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nukacoola · 3 years ago

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Companions React to Sole Visiting Their Dead Spouse Part 1/2

Ada:

Today Sole had informed Ada that they wanted to visit the vault they had come from. Ada had heard a bit about vaults from Jackson but she had yet to visit one herself. When they began to descend on the elevator that led to the vault, Ada noticed Sole’s mood start to shift. She recognized the emotion in Sole’s face to be sadness, greif. Ada knew of this emotion from what she had experienced with Jackson and her fellow robot’s deaths. She began to suspect that Sole was visiting the death site of someone who she was close to. They continued to walk

through the vault until they arrived at the entrance of a short hall. The hall seemed to house a number of large machines. Ada’s internal thermometer told her that it was quite cold so she assumed the machines were the source of the unusual temperature. Sole’s mood seemed to worsen as they led Ada down the hall. Ada noticed as they walked that frozen human corpses were held in each of the pod-like machines. When they stopped before one of the pods towards the end of the hall it became clear to Ada that Sole had a relationship with the deceased human they had stopped at. Sole looked up at the deceased human and their eyes began to water. Ada remembered back to her own experiences with death and grief. She felt she had to help Sole as Sole had helped her.

“I understand how you feel, Ma’am/Sir. If there is anything I can do to aid you please let me know.” Sole smiled sadly and turned slightly.

“Thank you, Ada. I appreciate you being here for me.” Sole then turned back to face the dead human. They shed a few tears before they approached a control panel that presumably controlled the machine the dead human was in. They pulled a lever and the Ada heard a hiss of the pod depressurising. The door to the pod slowly opened as Sole approached the human. They seemed to be taking a ring off of the hand of the human. They held the cold metal to their lips and whispered something Ada could not hear before slipping the ring in their pocket.

“Alright, we can go now.” They addressed Ada as they moved to close the door of the pod. “Thank you.” They repeated.

“You are welcome, Ma’am/Sir.” Ada responded. Ada and Sole then left the vault together. Ada knew that there was no way she could repay Sole for how they helped her, but she would still continue to try.

Cait:

“Why do we have ta go to this stupid ice box again?” Cait complained, rubbing her bare arms.

“It’s not my fault you refused to wear a coat.” Sole joked but Cait noticed their voice had a twinge of sadness in it. Cait had been confused when Sole asked her to come to Vault 111 with them. They’d been traveling together for ages and Sole didn’t really ask Cait if she wanted to go places, they just went. The location of today was weird as well. Usually they had a purpose for the places they went. Some lazy settlers couldn’t get off their arse’s to fight off a few ghouls or they were gettin’ a handful a’ caps to go fight a bunch a’ muties. Today’s trip to Vault 111 was weird and out of the blue. Cait didn’t like it but it seemed important to Sole so she agreed. Together they walked further into the vault and the further they walked the colder it got. They eventually reached a wide hall full of weird human sized containers. Cait noticed the ice that slicked the floor and the frost that stuck to the windows of the weird containers as they passed the first one she peered in the window. The dead body of a frozen woman in a vault suit was inside. She had seen a fair amount of bad shit in her day and this whole vault definitely made the cut. Sole had stopped in front of an ice coffin close to the end of the hall when Cait realized. Sole had told her about their dead spouse a while back and they’d also mentioned how they’re from a vault. This was that vault. That body they were now cryin’ in front of was their spouse. Seeing Sole like that did not feel good. Not good at all. She needed to reassure them, she hated it when they were upset.

“I know this must be difficult for you.” She stepped forwards, “I… I’m here if you need to talk.” Sole turned to her and smiled. They reached out their hand to take Cait’s.

“Thank you, Cait. You’re a great friend.” They squeezed Cait’s hand. Cait squeezed back and watched Sole as hot tears continued to roll down their cheeks. She hoped that one day they could be more than friends. Maybe then Cait could wipe those tears away an’ kiss away the burns of grief they had left behind. For now, though, this is all she needed.

Codsworth:

It had been a hard week for Sole and Codsworth. The initial reunion of the two had been nothing but joyful. The family had been reunited against all odds! But of course it wasn’t the whole family. The absence of Sole’s better half and young Shaun left a gaping hole in both Sole’s real and Codsworth’s metaphorical hearts. The shock of their partner’s murder and Shaun’s kidnapping had worn off for Sole and in it’s wake, it left them cripplingly depressed. The past three days Sole had barely been able to get out of bed. They just listened to their partner’s holotape on repeat while cradling young Shaun’s favorite rattle in their arms’. Codsworth had been doing his best to care for them, bringing them food and water and making sure to check up on them every hour or so, but he was becoming worried. He was just preparing lunch for Sole when he was surprised by their figure standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Codsworth greeted them excitedly. Sole awkwardly hugged his large metal body and thanked him for all the meals he had prepared and all the patience he had shown. They explained how when they had left the vault, they were in such shock that they never got to say a real goodbye to their partner. Codsworth listened patiently and happily agreed when they asked him to accompany them back to the vault to say a real goodbye.

They entered the cold concrete bunker which Codsworth had previously waited and hoped to see stir for over 210 years. Sole led him through the halls and the two eventually arrived at some machinery which Sole identified as the cryogenic freezing pods. They approached the end of the hall and Sole moved to one of the many control panels next two one of the many pods. After puzzling over the panel they tried pulling a red lever. The large door of the cryo pod hissed as it slowly opened to reveal their spouse. Standing next to Codsworth in front of their partner, they grabbed and held the grasper fixed on one of his three arms. Even with one his beloved family members standing dead right before him, Codsworth still couldn’t believe it.

“Oh dear, is that…” he trailed off, “Mum/Sir, I’m… I’m so sorry.” Codsworth tried to keep his heartbroken voice steady as Sole began to softly sob next to him. He wished more than anything he could hug them, but since he could not, this almost hand holding would have to do. They stood there, mourning together for about two hours before Sole was ready to go. They were still very torn up. But it seemed as if a large weight had been lifted from their chest. Before they closed their partner’s pod, Sole went up to them and removed their wedding ring.

“I’ll find who did this, and I’ll get Shaun back. I promise” they said to their spouse.

“Indeed Mum/Sir. We’ll stop at nothing to get young Shaun back!” Sole smiled at Codsworth and together the two set off to find Sole’s baby.

Curie:

After everything Sole had done to help Curie, there wasn’t even a second thought on whether or not she would go with them to the vault they had come from. She would help Sole with anything, no matter what. When she had first booted up in vault 81 she was very excited to dedicate herself to the scientific endeavors of Vault-Tec. When her fellow scientist informed her of how they would be growing hundreds of pathogens in mole rats and testing these pathogens on unsuspecting humans, she felt bad. As bad as a Ms.Nanny model robot could at least. She eventually grew attached to the mole rats they were infecting. She was especially fond of sweet little Clyde. When one day Clyde escaped his cage, Curie did not have time to warn the scientists she had worked with. Despite her friend’s deaths, Curie took solace in the fact that the morally gray work of Vault-Tec’s could not continue. Despite the conductors of the experiment's deaths, Curie continued her work. 200 years later, she had been finished with the cure for a long while. She was pretty much stuck in this small area of the vault waiting to be told she could leave. Thankfully, Sole came along and her prayers were answered! They released her and told her about a young boy who was infected. She was able to help the one human who had the misfortune of being infected by the molerat disease with her life’s work, the cure. After that, Sole had welcomed Curie to continue her scientific studies alongside them. When Sole eventually helped Curie become alive, however, was when Curie truly understood how much she loved Sole. She would go to the ends of the earth for them so accompanying them to a vault was, as Sole might say, no big deal.

On the walk to the vault Sole told an inquisitive Curie about the experiment 111 had performed. They also told Curie how losing their spouse and child happened while they were still trapped in their cryogenic pod. They told Curie that they were visiting the body of their deceased spouse. It wasn’t too long of a walk before they reached the familiar facility. Sole led Curie through the cool halls of the vault and down a short hall to their spouse’s body. They took a deep breath and stepped up to the control panel adjacent to the cryo pod. After fiddling with the controls the pod appeared to depressurize and open. Curie’s heart ached for Sole. She knew how loss felt and of all the human emotions she was now able to feel, she liked that one the least.

Sole began to cry at seeing their deceased partner again. Curie had an urge to cry too. It was such an awful feeling. As much as she wanted to though, she knew she couldn’t give in to it. She had to stay strong for her dearest friend who must be struggling a lot more than she is right now. She stepped closer to her partner and gently laid a hand on their upper back.

“I wish I knew how to make zis better. It iz not a phyzical injury that I can heal.” Curie was silent for a moment, thinking of what to say next, “However I know it still hurts terribly. I am here for you always.” Sole slumped and began to cry harder which made Curie very worried. Maybe she had said the wrong thing! Did she make it worse? But right when she was going to apologize and excuse herself Sole turned around and hugged her tightly. She hugged back and allowed Sole to cry on her shoulder.

“Thank you Curie, you’re the best.” They sniffled out. Curie smiled as a few stray tears fell down her face. She was so glad she was able to help her friend as they have helped her so many times before.

Danse:

Danse hadn’t known what to expect when his fellow soldier had requested they make a stop at Vault 111 during their recon mission to the far reaches of the commonwealth. He of course knew that Sole was from this vault. They had told him so upon their first meeting. He remembered being surprised that Sole had admitted to being a Vault Dweller, though he now understood they probably had no idea of the stigma surrounding Vault Dwellers as they had only been above ground for a short time. Nonetheless, when he granted permission for his subordinate to lead him to the vault he assumed they wanted to go back for something they had not taken when they had first left. He never suspected to walk into a graveyard of frozen corpses. Of course he knew the basics of what had occurred here. Sole had told him a bit about their spouse and the cruel experiment unknowingly performed on them both. Even knowing this, experiencing the criminal loss of life Vault-Tec had caused first hand was rather sickening. He could only imagine what Sole was going through.

Danse soon found that he did not have to imagine. Sole had led him down an isle of frozen bodies before stopping in front one. He noticed their hands were shaking as they reached for the control panel standing next to the pod they had stopped at. They pulled a red lever and the contraption hissed as the door began to open. Danse could see a frozen body held within the metal pod. Sole’s whole body was shaking now. From his place off to the side of them he could see tears rolling down their cheeks. This must be their spouse. Danse was at a loss. He wanted to help them but he knew there was no way he could do anything that would get them over such an incredible loss. Even so, he needed to do something. His power armor hissed as it depressurized. He stepped out of it and approached Sole.

“Take as long as you need, Soldier.” He placed a hand on their shoulder briefly before turning away to give them space. As he began to leave, Sole grabbed his hand. He turned to them, surprised. He only got to see the tears streaming down Sole’s red, blotchy cheeks for a moment before they roughly pulled him towards them for a hug. Shocked, he stiffened. It was only when they started to softly sob into his chest that he refocused and hugged them back. They stayed that way for a long time. Danse couldn’t help but think back to Scribe Haylen. The situation was nearly the same and yet he didn’t have the same ache in his chest when he had held the scribe. Eventually Sole’s sobs turned to sniffles and sniffles to silence. Their hold on him loosed and Danse took this as his queue to release them. Their face was still puffy and red but as he looked down at them while they smiled up at him he couldn’t help but think how beautiful they looked.

“Thank you.” They breathed. Danse simply nodded. Sole turned away from him to right themselves and he used this opportunity to get back into his power armor. Sole closed up the cryogenics pod and they left the vault without another word shared. Danse hoped he had helped them. Even if it was only in a small way.

Deacon:

When Sole asked Deacon to accompany them on a visit to Vault 111, he of course accepted. This is not to say that he was excited. Far from it. He would never admit it to them, but he had done a lot of research on Vault 111 far before he had met Sole. He had taken a particular interest in this vault after hearing a rumor of Institute activity near it. After trying and failing to get into it, he went to Vault-Tec headquarters in hopes of finding some more info on this particular experiment. He had been able to guess the vault had some type of human-cryogenic-preservation thing going on due to terminals he’d read there and books he’d read elsewhere. After Sole had left the vault, the interior door was open and Deacon was able to explore further. One cryo pod being open while the rest were full of corpses painted a pretty clear picture. The internal terminals allowed Deacon to discover that there was once an infant “housed” there. The infant belonged to the vaultie he saw leave and the only corpse who’s cause of death was a bullet to the head. It was pretty clear to him what had happened. What he didn’t know was what the Institute needed with an infant.

Due to his research, Deacon obviously knew exactly what happened in that Vault. He also knew how much it had taken from Sole specifically and he had a pretty good idea of why they wanted to go back. His suspicions were confirmed when they led him down a familiar hall of cryo pods. They stopped close to the end of the short hallway to stand in front of the dead person Deacon had first seen almost a year ago. He looked to Sole, they were staring at the body and shivering. He couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the murder. He settled on both. He tried not to remember just how much he understood their pain, but of course he couldn’t forget. His chest tightened as he saw tears beginning to leak from their eyes. They shakily reached for the control panel next to the coffin and pulled the red lever to open it. Their face began to contort into an expression Deacon knew very well. Their tears were flowing freely now and he felt he had to do something, anything to try to help them. He approached them and placed a hand on their shoulder, effectively wrapping his arm around them. They stood there for about a minute, Sole sniffling from time to time, before Sole turned into him and wrapped their arms around him. Deacon didn’t think about how it could be dangerous when he hugged them back, he just did. He held Sole in that cold, empty room for a long time. Even after Sole had stopped crying, they stood there.

“Thanks Dee.” Sole whispered before finally letting go of Deacon. They looked up at him, smiling and though he didn’t know why he felt his stomach flip, he provided a small smile back. Sole closed the pod and together the pair left Vault 111, hopefully, for the last time.

Dogmeat:

When Dogmeat woke up that morning it was just another day with his wonderful friend. Throughout the day however, Dogmeat began to worry. He felt his friend start to become sad. This made him sad too. He loved his friend! He wanted his friend to be happy! He stuck close to their side especially when they entered a very cold big place which seemed to make his friend even more sad. He and his friend walked further into the cold place until they decided to stop. His friend sat down on the cold floor so Dogmeat did too. He saw that his friend had begun to cry. He whimpered and rested his head in his friend’s lap. For a while they sat, Dogmeat’s friend slowly stroking Dogmeat’s fur and eventually, they stopped crying. Dogmeat sat up and blinked at his friend. His friend gave him a sad smile, he gave them a big slobbery kiss. His friend laughed and so he gave them another kiss. His friend kissed his forehead before standing. Together, they walked out of the cold place. Dogmeat was happy, and he felt his friend was too.

Gage: Gage was never into the touchy feely stuff but he had to admit he had a soft spot for the Overboss. They’re badass as hell and take no shit but they also knew how to be compassionate when they needed to be. It was something Gage had never been able to do well and something he respected in his boss. There was something off about them the day they asked Gage to accompany them to Vault 111 in the Commonwealth. They seemed more timid, like they were worried about his response. He’d already told them he’d follow them to the ends of the earth and he meant it so of course he said yes. The trip was long and the boss seemed to get quieter and more down the closer they got to the vault. This was worrying to Gage. Like he said, he wasn’t good at the touchy feely stuff. He wasn’t gonna know how to deal with it if the Boss needed someone to comfort them from whatever was making them sad.

They finally reached the vault and Sole instructed him to stand on the gear shaped platform while they ran over to a small building nearby. After about 30 seconds lights around the platform started to flash. There was the sound of a blaring alarm paired with a rumbling of the ground beneath him. He was about to get the hell off of the thing but Sole ran over to wait on the platform next to him. If it was safe in Sole’s eyes, Gage supposed he would trust it. After a few seconds the platform started to lower with a loud screech of metal on metal. Despite the bad feeling that was growing exponentially inside of him he followed the Overboss’ example. When the vault elevator brought them down to solid ground again, Sole led the way through a cold metal complex to a bunch of weird machinery that really just looked like a bunch of fancy coffins. Looking through the small glass windows on the weird pods proved that that’s exactly what they were. Sole’s footsteps were heavy and slow as they led Gage down the icey corridor. There was something very personal about this place to them. He would soon find out what it was as they stopped in front of on of the coffins. Sole fidgeted with their hands for a moment before they reached to the control panel next to the pod and opened it. There was a hiss of depressurization when the door opened to reveal a body. Someone they’d obviously known and been close to. The Boss’ posture slumped and they started… crying. They were crying… Dammit, Gage had no idea how to deal with this. He had to do something to let them know he cared though, because he did. He stepped closer to Sole reaching his hand out to them before recoiling it. Oh god. Alright just say something, anything.

“Hey, uh, Boss, I just want you to know- well I get it. And I’m real sorry.” They huffed a laugh through tears. Fuck did he do it wrong?? But before he could worry too much they turned to him with a sad smile.

“Thank you Gage, really, thank you.” He nodded stiffly, not knowing how else to react. They stood there in silence for a while before Sole closed the pod and stepped back, wiping their tears away. Gage looked away put of respect until they cleared their throat. “Ready to get out of this shithole?” They smiled at him.

“Hell yeah, you lead the way, Boss.” -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So I saw a video of the Companion’s comments upon bringing them back to Vault 111 and opening your spouses pod and I wanted to write a little thing. :) The bold sentences are real in game dialogue but not every character has some. This is part 1 of 2 so if your favorite isn’t in this one don’t worry.

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lastbluetardis · 3 years ago

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Sacred New Beginnings (1/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU, @doctorroseprompts

This Chapter: Teen, ~5500 words

Note: Er... surprise? This idea has been in my head for months but my brain took it and ran with it this weekend. I plotted the whole thing and am gonna try to update every weekend. I don’t anticipate this being more than like... 7-10 chapter? I’d love to keep it under 5 chapters but that might be trimming things down too much for my liking. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little story!

AO3

Flashing lights and shrieks of his name greet James the moment the back door to his armored car is opened. His head of security ducks out first and James can only see a mass of feet and legs but it’s more than enough to let him know it’s a heavier than usual crowd. Not surprising, considering the news of his latest break-up just dropped while he’d been flying back from a visit to America.

He slides out of the car, helped by hands that pull him as much as guide him through the throng. He ignores the shouts of his name—telling him to look left or right or up or down or every combination therein—and the barrage of questions and jokes that aren’t funny.

Was it you or him that ended it?

Three weeks, is that a new personal record?

Another notch in the bedpost, eh James?

Got another beau lined up yet?

If you’re looking for candidates, what do we have to do to get our names in the running?

“Ignore them,” he mutters to himself, too quietly for anyone except his security team to hear.

In answer, one of them gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they reach his front door. Someone has already unlocked it for him and the darkness within is a blessing he’s all too willing to be shoved into. The cacophony muffles once the door shuts, and finally he’s alone, a rarity for him. If it’s not his security, it’s personal assistants and writers and producers and photographers and the paparazzi.

Or his lover of the month, as the papers have taken to calling his partners.

But nope, his home is empty and quiet and bloody freezing. A shiver ripples up his spine as he treads to the thermostat controller. Summer finally released its hold on London, and the muggy heat has been replaced with a damp chill that burrows down into his bones.

Several button-presses later, James hears the familiar clank of the radiator and he can smell the heating kick on. It’ll take a while for his house to warm up, so James keeps his peacoat on for the time being as he putters around his home, checking the fridge and the cabinets. As always, they’re well-stocked. He hasn’t had to do anything as mundane as grocery shopping in the five years since his YouTube channel full of acoustic covers of popular songs went viral and landed him a lucrative deal with a prestigious record label. Only in his wildest dreams had he expected to find fame and fortune in the hobby he loved so much—for it to have actually happened still took him by surprise, as though any minute he’d be told “it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time for you to leave wonderland now.”

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he goes to the antique dining table that can easily seat ten people, which is great for holidays or in-home meetings, but just plain depressing every other day of the year. A stack of mail has piled up, and he spends the next five minutes attempting to sort it before giving up and telling himself he’ll look at it in the morning, once he’s not quite as groggy—transatlantic flights always take it out of him.

Instead, he rootles around his fridge until he comes up with the necessary items to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich. With the prospect of food in front of him, James realizes he is starving. He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while he assembles his pitiful meal, heaping on lettuce and sliced tomatoes as though that’s enough to negate the pile processed protein and greasy chips he layers in for crunch.

It’s tastier than any sandwich as a right to be, and he nearly makes himself a second one before catches sight of his phone screen and the slew of incoming notifications. His work is never finished, is it?

There are several texts from his publicist, Donna, welcoming him home and congratulating him on not making an arse of himself just by trying to walk up the front drive of his home. (To be fair, he felt entitled to channel his inner crotchety old man and tell reporters to get off his damn lawn if they encroached on his personal property.)

“Though some photos are surfacing of your trip to New York… Anything you need me to get ahead of?”

He rubs his fingers into his eyes, knowing she’s probably referring to his last night out in the city, where he went bar hopping until the wee hours of the morning to try to forget the text his subsequently-ex-boyfriend had sent him.

Thanks for everything, but I need to focus on my career. Cheers mate.

The career that James had kickstarted for him by introducing his rising actor boyfriend to several of his friends in the film industry, because James had been so damn desperate for affection that he’d once again let the wool get pulled in front of his eyes.

And so James had reached out to mates who lived in New York and they’d all gone out and acted half their age and had a wonderful time once James forgot about why he’d gone out in the first place.

But none of that now. Nope. No sir.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replies. “Let me know if you catch wind of anything.”

Despite the fact that he only just got home and he’s jetlagged and still feeling the effects of his night out in New York, James can’t stay in his house right now. It’s so quiet that his brain is creating its own white noise. He can’t stand being in his head on a good day, and today is not a good day.

He grabs his keys and wallet and makes for the back of the house. His property is landlocked with the back gardens of other houses; the paps have learned the hard way that James is dead serious about protecting his neighbors’ privacy and will not hesitate to phone the police to arrest and sue anyone caught trespassing on private property to snag a photo of him. James hosts dinner for his neighbors several times a year and buys them gifts any chance he can to show his appreciation for their patience and tolerance.

In the dead of night, he slips out into his back garden, the crisp October air burning his lungs in the best way as he ducks his way through the neighborhood, his feet taking him far away from the crowd of reporters that are still stationed in front of his own home. Hopefully they’ll all have dispersed by the time he gets back. Perhaps he should have turned on music or a movie or something, made them think he was settled in for a lazy night in.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, enjoying this taste of freedom and trying to remember the days when he could leave out the front door of his flat without any fanfare.

It’s dark, and thick clouds obscure whichever moon phase they’re in, but the street lamps glow yellow on the damp pavement, lighting his way forward. A crisp autumn breeze ruffles his hair and the leaves, sending them tumbling around him and skittering across the residential street that’s so much quieter than the bustle of New York. It’s good to be home, though.

He arrives at a bus stop and catches one headed into the city proper. It’s no secret that James lives in London, and therefore the general population has gotten used to glimpsing him on the tube or walking on the street or frequenting pubs. He knows people snap quick photos of him, and he’s always happy to stop and pose for a selfie with respectful fans, but mostly he’s left alone when he’s out by himself like this.

Nevertheless, he hears the excited undertones of people trying to inconspicuously point him out to their oblivious friends. He keeps his head down, mindlessly opening and closing apps on his phone for something to do as he pretends he doesn’t notice them. He won’t be on the bus much longer anyway.

Several people get off the bus with him, including a group of teenage girls who are whispering heatedly among themselves. It’s almost funny, watching them debate amongst themselves before one of them approaches him.

She’s red-faced but determined as she blurts, “Can we get a photo?”

“Sure thing,” he says good-naturedly, inclining his head for them to come closer. “Need me to take it?” He holds out a lanky arm and flops it around a bit. “Got a longer reach than any of you.”

He’s certain one of the girls is about to start crying with joy as they all nestle into his side and hand him a new-model iPhone. Damn, it’s fancier than his own. When he was their age, he had an old flip phone that lost reception if he breathed on it wrong. It was a tank though—he’d dropped that thing hundreds of times, and nary a scratch.

“Do me a favor,” he says, handing the phone back to its owner, “and don’t ping our location if you post to social media, yeah? I appreciate it.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” one of the girls squeaks.

His face splits into a grin and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Is that so?”

The girls spend the next five minutes chatting with him about music and how they’ve been following him ever since his YouTube days. He listens and chimes in every now and then when they ask him a direct question, but he prefers being passive in exchanges like this, content to hear peoples’ stories. It makes him feel normal, if only for a little while.

Finally, they take their leave, and James turns in the opposite direction even though the destination he had in mind is down the street the girls had just taken. But he’s been burned far too many times by encounters with seemingly innocent fans, only for them to begin following him around and showing up outside his house to talk to him again. He makes a point of not drawing out public encounters with his fans.

He wanders down a street he’s vaguely familiar with, figuring he can backtrack in a couple blocks. The night is too beautiful for him to be upset about needing to take a detour.

Everything looks different in the dark, the glow of neon signs bathing everything in hues of greens and blues and pinks and yellows. Shops and restaurants are mostly shut up for the night, their windows dark or blinds drawn. Dingey motels with pay-by-the-hour rates are in full swing, as are the pubs that have a revolving door of people in varying states of intoxication.

Deep bass that he can feel all the way in his chest catches his attention, and he gets turned around a few times, but he eventually finds the establishment: Bad Wolf Brews. At first, he doesn’t think it’s open, and that he must be mistaken about where the music is coming from, but the heavy front oak door opens, and he realizes the glass on the door is tempered so that the interior lights don’t shine through. The music is clear and heavy and vibrating in his bones. He doesn’t think twice before catching the door before it closes and slipping inside.

The air is humid and smells of sweat and stale beer. Bodies are writhing and gyrating to the rhythm blasting through invisible speakers. The acoustics are phenomenal; none of the layers are lost and the sound quality is nearly as good as if he were listening to the record at home on his own stereo system.

The lights are low, and he’s sure he trips into a few people in the minute it takes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but finally, he’s at the bar. There are three open stools, and he claims one between a blonde woman and a red-haired man as he wonders what the hell this dive bar serves. He can see beer taps, but he’s more of a cocktail guy. He must look as lost as he feels, because the bartender hands him a menu that looks like it was hand-written and then photo-copied. It jives with the overall vibe of the pub.

The bartender checks in with him a minute later. James opens a tab and orders a sidecar sans sugar, and is pleasantly surprised by the quality. Not to make assumptions, but he’d figured an establishment such as this would have cheap liquor. If the alcohol in his drink is cheap, it’s well masked.

When he’s drained the last drop and about to signal for another, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Can I buy your next round?”

James looks up into the face of a stranger. It’s a woman with striking green eyes and a disheveled pixie cut. Judging by her crimson cheeks and glazed eyes, she’s three sheets to the wind. There’s buzzed, then there’s drunk, and then there’s plastered. He prefers not to let himself get to that last category, and by extension, he doesn’t really like to associate much with people who won’t remember the night come morning.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says with his most charming grin. “G’night.”

He has no idea if the woman knows who he is, but the way she shrugs and saunters to the gentleman sitting beside James, he doubts it.

He gets clumsily propositioned a few more times and always politely declines with a smile. So far, nobody here seems to recognize him and he is going to ride out this anonymity for as long as it’ll last. It has been too long since he’s been able to sit in a pub and drink quietly. Well, quietly, insofar as crazed fans or paparazzi aren’t harassing him—the music is loud enough that he’s sure to have ringing in his ears for a few hours once he gets home.

But he’s not really in any rush to get home, and so he orders his fourth cocktail before making his way to the loo. Alcohol goes right through him, and it’s nearly gotten him in trouble on tour a time or two.

There’s no line, but the loo is crowded, and he tries to ignore the double-takes as he stands in front of a urinal to take care of business. If he wakes up tomorrow morning to find that someone snapped a photo of him having a piss, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Bladder tended to, James keeps his head ducked and shoulders his way back into the bar. His stool is unoccupied, and when he steps forward, he realizes why. A purse sits on it, seemingly reserving the seat but he can’t figure out for whom. He’s about to take the cocktail the bartender hands him and stand against the shadowed wall when someone picks up the purse.

It’s his blonde-haired stool mate. She flashes him a broad grin that lights up her entire face and squeezes something deep in his stomach.

“Saved your seat for ya,” she says with the ease and confidence of someone who’s known him his whole life.

“Thanks,” he manages through a suddenly dry mouth.

Feeling like an idiot for standing and gaping, he slips into his seat and downs half his new sidecar in one go. It’s as though the ice has been broken now, and she turns to him, her elbow on the counter and her cheek propped on her fist.

“Pretty sure you could outdrink a fish, mate,” she drawls, smiling again in that easy way that does too many strange things to his insides. “You’ve been knockin’ ‘em back for over an hour now.”

Has it really been that long? James checks his watch, and yup, it’s half past ten. The paps should be gone from his house by now, but he feels no draw to leave this place. The alcohol has left him pleasantly tipsy and warm, but he’s more drunk on the fantasy that he’s just a normal bloke having a nice night out in a newly-discovered dive bar.

“Fish don’t really drink though, do they? They absorb water through their gills via osmosis,” he replies, and he wants to bite his tongue off because what the fuck was that??

This woman, whatever her name is, doesn’t seem to mind his answer though, because her face scrunches in a giggle. His body is hot and throbbing with more than drink now, and he wants to hear that sound again but his brain has stopped working.

“Is that so different from you absorbin’ alcohol through your bloodstream?” she muses, finishing off whatever is in her short tumbler.

“Can I buy your next round?” he blurts rather than responding to her question, which he’s almost certain was rhetorical.

Her smile melts into something softer, something private and a little shy. “If you’d like.”

“I do.” He flags down the bartender and glances at his new companion expectantly.

“Gin and tonic,” she says. She thanks the bartender, then James when she takes her first sip. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“James,” he says, feeling stupid because his face is plastered all over London, which likes to boast that it’s the home of international celeb James Noble. But wouldn’t he seem more of an arse if he just assumed this gorgeous woman knew who he was?

Nevertheless, his stomach sinks a bit when she snorts into her drink and says, “I thought it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me,” he forces, his voice flat. He hides his frown with his glass, knocking back the rest of his sidecar like it’s a shot. The room sways slightly with the violent motion of his head, and maybe he’s slightly drunker than he’d thought.

If Rose catches on to his sudden sour mood, she doesn’t mention it. “What brings you here to Bad Wolf?”

He shrugs and blows out a noisy breath. “I dunno. Went for a walk, ended up here.”

“Those are the best sort of adventures.” She hums wistfully. “Sometimes you find what you didn’t know you needed when you let yourself get lost.”

That observation is far too astute for his current state of mind, so instead he says, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment before she says, “Okay.”

He hops down from his stool, but Rose hesitates, clutching her purse and coat awkwardly. The bartender helpfully tells her to keep them on her stool, and he’ll keep an eye on it. Rose flashes him a grin that James would rather she flash at him, but he realizes that is utterly absurd, so he simply rests his coat on top of her things to better hide them from view. He then holds out his hand for her. Her palm is soft and warm against his as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

They find space towards the back of the pub, hidden in the shadows of a hallway that states it’s closed off to patrons. And of course, of fucking course, right when he rests his hands on her hips to find the rhythm of the song, a new one comes on, and his own voice belts from the speakers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. He loves his music—he made it, after all—but he can’t help but feel pretentious and more than a little silly to dance to it like this.

Rose, however, grins and says, “Oh, come on, this is one of my favorites.”

She catches his hands where he’d loosened them at her waist and forces him to grab hold of her. She’s wearing high-waisted trousers and a top that leaves a sliver of her belly exposed. His thumb grazes the skin of her bare side, and it’s enough to send tingles through his body. Rose, meanwhile, slings her arms around his shoulders and begins to rock her hips from side to side in sync with the bass, embellishing the motions until she looks absolutely ridiculous but so, so beautiful.

He can’t help but grin and laugh, and he mirrors her movements until they’re both dancing like idiots to his music.

“This is how my baby brother dances,” she explains, bouncing up and down while twisting her hips. “We have regular dance parties together.”

“How old’s your brother?” he asks.

“Just turned four.”

He blinks, and blood rushes from his face. “And… and how old are you?”

“A perfectly legal twenty-four,” she drawls, reaching up to flick his nose. “You can start breathing again.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s quite the age gap.”

“My mum got remarried when I was nineteen,” Rose says with a shrug. “She and my stepdad didn’t waste much time.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath.

“It does feel a bit like they’ve started over,” Rose confesses with a too-stiff shrug. “New family, new life, and I’m the interloper.

There is no way this vivacious woman in front of him could ever be considered an interloper, but before he can tell her that, she continues, “Mum does her best to assure me otherwise, but still. It’s hard to watch all the things Mum and Dad are able to do for Tony—that’s my brother, Tony—when Mum struggled so much as a single mum with me.”

“Your dad’s not in the picture?”

A sad smile pinches her face, and he regrets asking.

“No, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Well, he’s totally buggered this all up, hasn’t he? He wracks his brain on how to salvage the easy banter they’d had at the bar, but draws a blank.

Rose seems to realize they’ve lost the mood, but she breaks out into a lazy grin and says, “Since you seemed so opposed to dancing to your own music, it’ll please you to know a new song’s on. C’mon, show me your moves.”

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he follows her lead, watching her dance her heart out until her cheeks are pink and her hair is damp with sweat. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, since he can feel the perspiration beading down his back and beneath his arms, but he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight has been the most fun he’s had in a very long time. Clubbing in New York had been a lark, but he’s been swarmed by his American fans half the night, and had been busy drowning his latest heartbreak to fully enjoy it. But here, now, with Rose, it’s like he’s any other bloke in a pub, chatting up a pretty girl he wants to get to know.

Their bodies are wrapped around each other with the ease and grace of partners who have known each other for years, and he forgets that he has known Rose for all of a few hours. He never wants this night to end. He wants to cling to this fairytale and pretend that the clock isn’t about to strike the proverbial midnight.

But time marches on as always. The clock really does strike midnight, and the bartender begins to clear people out of his establishment. James is as exhausted as he is exhilarated, no longer drunk on booze but rather the company of Rose and the magic they made together by simply dancing the night away.

They head back to the bar to retrieve their coats and her purse, and to close out their tabs. James slides his credit card to the bartender and asks him to charge everyone’s tab to his card. If the bartender is surprised, he hides it well. A few minutes later, James is signing off on the receipt of purchase of several thousand pounds-worth of alcohol. His personal assistant is sure to be confused as hell when she wakes up to see the charge. He fires off a quick warning text to her so she doesn’t open up a fraudulent charge claim.

James salutes the bartender, knowing he’ll come back to this pub as often as he can until he’s found out and this place once again becomes somewhere that’s overrun with his fans.

The night is refreshingly cold when he and Rose emerge into it, a nice change after the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. However, she hunches her shoulders against the chill, prompting him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her into his side, all too eager to lend her some of his body heat.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” he asks, glancing around the street that is now full of the drunken patrons who’d been in the pub with them. They all disperse in different directions, stumbling home or to a different bar that is still open. “Or wait with you ‘til you catch a cab?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, pulling up her phone to order a ride. She taps on the screen for a few quiet moments then says, “Done. Should be here in a few minutes.”

They descend into a slightly awkward silence that James wants to break, but he can’t think of anything clever to say. So he says nothing, and finally headlights wash over them, momentarily blinding them before a taxi pulls up.

“D’you wanna share?” she asks, opening the door to the back seat.

Is she as reluctant to leave him as he is to leave her? Or is she being polite and eco-friendly by ride sharing? Nevertheless, he nods and slides into the back seat beside her.

There is something incredibly intimate about sitting with Rose in the dark interior of the taxi, and he feels like he’s fifteen and wondering how to hold his date’s hand after a cheap night out at the cinemas. He fists his hands together, knotting his fingers until his knuckles pop.

The driver goes to the address Rose provides first, and all too soon they’ve arrived.

“I’ll cover the fare,” he says when she makes to hand over some bank notes to the diver. “It’d be my pleasure.”

She hesitates, but nods, then opens the door to climb out of the car. His pulse quickens as he watches her walk away with nothing but a, “Goodnight.”

“Can you wait just a minute?” he asks the driver.

“Meter’s still runnin’,” he grunts.

“That’s fine.”

James scrambles out of the taxi. “Hey, Rose?”

She turns back to face him, frowning.

“I… er… I had a great time tonight,” he says lamely, but her frown relaxes into a smile. “It was fun. With you. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she answers.

He licks his lips; his mouth is bone dry and his pulse pounds in his ears, making his vision throb with each frenzied beat.

“Do you… do you maybe wanna do it again some time? Hang out together? I… I’d really like to see you again,” he says, cursing his clumsy, fumbling words.

She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a one-off, a story for her to tell her mates.

You’ll never guess who I met at the pub last night. James Noble! He paid for all my drinks and we danced like idiots.

He stews in his misery of doubt, and just when he’s about to tell her to forget about it, she slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful edge creeping into his voice.

She laughs. “Really.”

“Brilliant!” James fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and he thrusts it at her. “Give me your number? I’ll text you. Or call.”

He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, waiting for her to finish up with his phone. He has a sudden, potent bolt of panic that she’s snooping through his private messages or photographs for something to use against him to make a quick profit, but before that panic can take root, she hands his mobile back to him. It’s open to a new texting conversation.

From: 🌹 Bad Wolf Girl 🌹

Now I’ve got your number too 😉

He beams at the name she’s given to herself in his contacts, then he pockets his phone.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better,” she replies with that knee-weakening smile he’s grown to love over the course of the night. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stands there like a moron until she’s safely inside, then he turns back to the taxi and climbs in. The deserted streets streak by as the driver takes him to his neighborhood. He never gives his address though; he always chooses a destination a few streets away, just in case.

James generously tips the driver and bids him goodnight before slipping into the night to his home. He was right: the paparazzi are gone. There is no fanfare as he slips his key into the lock and lets himself into his house. It’s warm and cozy, but still too quiet for his liking.

Between the plane ride and his night out, he feels greasy and disgusting, and indulges in a hot shower before bed. He washes Rose’s scent off of his body, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that’s as sweet as it is musky.

He’s groggy by the time he crawls into his giant, king-sized bed and burrows deep into his mounds of pillows and duvets. One of his ex-girlfriends once teased that he turns into the marshmallow man when he sleeps.

His sleep is deep and dreamless, and when he awakes with the sun the following morning, he feels more refreshed and invigorated than he ever remembers being. He’s got a full day of meetings with his songwriting team to brainstorm his next album, and he is ready.

But first, he checks his phone. There’s nothing from Rose, which makes him a little sad, but also nothing from his publicist, which is always a good sign. If ever she messages or calls him first thing in the morning, it always means there’s some sort of dumpster fire to put out. Usually a dumpster fire full of compromising photos of him.

He makes a point of not Googling himself, but he does occasionally check his social media pages for new posts about him, wanting to know when, where, and how his fans came across him in the wild. He easily finds the photo that he took with the group of teenage girls, and makes a point to like the original post and type a quick, “Nice to meet you all. Thanks for chatting with me last night - J” in the comments section. He snorts to himself as his comment blows up within seconds.

But other than some grainy photos of him riding the bus, he can’t find any other photos of himself. Nothing of him wandering the streets or drinking in the pub or even having a wee in the mens’ room. And best of all, there’s nothing of him and Rose. No photos of them dancing together or sharing a cab. If Rose has a social media account, it didn’t post any sneaky photos or bragging stories about dancing all night with James Noble.

He can’t quite believe it; he managed to have a fun night out drinking without it all being thrown back in his face the next morning. Within seconds, he’s grinning to himself and pulling up Rose’s contact information. It’s still in his phone, further proof that his night with her wasn’t some sort of jetlagged fever dream. She was real.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Thanks for last night.”

She responds almost instantly. Good morning to you too. I should be thanking you for paying my drink tab and taxi fare 😉 And for being an excellent dance partner.

“The pleasure was all mine, on all counts.” He sends that message, then types out a new one, “I’m gonna be in meetings all day (yes, I know it’s Sunday), so please don’t be discouraged if I don’t reply. But I’d really like to see you again. Want to do dinner or drinks or coffee or something?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, needing to make himself presentable for when his driver picks him up in an hour. Yet he can’t help but check his phone every three seconds, until finally there’s a message from Rose.

Yeah, I’d like that. I work ‘til five most nights, but I’m free after that. Or we can wait ‘til the weekend.

With spirits lighter than they’ve been in months, James steps out of his house with a broad, stupid grin that the ever-present crowd of paparazzi are all too happy to photograph.

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctorroseprompts #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #yet another iteration of james and rose lmao #romance #meet cute #light angst #musician au #my fic #sacred new beginnings

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writesowhatnext · 4 years ago

Text

everybody has those days // fred weasley

Summary: A drunken night at Harry and Ginny’s wedding leads to a slightly, very awkward situation with the reader and the bride’s elder brother

Request: nope

A/N: basically I read sunkissed by @ickle-ronniekins and I became, as the kids say, thirsty also as I was doing the warnings I realised that I essentially described uni so go figure!!! i don’t know why but this was so difficult to write and I’m like wow am I just losing the ability to form sentences

Reader: female

Warnings: suggestive themes, hangover, drinking, nudity, hickeys, innuendo, swearing,

A low sound escaped your lips as you shuffled, frowning at the strange weight over your waist. Peeling your eyes open, you winced as rays of bright sunlight leaked through the open curtains. So, you figured, today was almost certainly not going to be a very productive one. You huffed and then blinked slowly, adjusting to the light and letting your eyes focus, a decision you definitely regretted as a familiar face came into view.

Now, you’d recognise Fred Weasley’s face anywhere. Not only was he your best friend’s brother, but he was also half of your bosses and a man you’d been regrettably attracted to for almost seven years. So, as you looked at the slope of his nose and the freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and his brassy red hair, you knew that you had made a decision somewhere along the way the night before with very hefty repercussions. And so, as all rational and mature people do in such a situation, you decided to handle it with a certain level of grace and decorum.

“Oh, fuck.”

You hauled yourself from the bed, your head screaming at the immediate whiplash from your sharp exit. The room spun around you and your knuckles look fit to burst as you clutched at the sheets in your hands, pulling them to your chest. Whether it was your abrupt profanity or the vicious reorganisation of his bedsheets, Fred let out a deep, gruff exclamation and tumbled backwards off the other side of the bed.

For a moment, you were both silent, except for the panting noises of your combined heavy breathing, and you found yourself staring very intently at Fred’s confused expression, trying desperately to remember the night before. Why couldn’t you sleep with and forget someone you hadn’t been pining for years for? Wouldn’t that have been more fun?

“What the bloody hell did you-“ he stopped himself as he looked at you wrapped up in his bedsheets, the skin of your neck and collarbones mottled with dark purplish bruises that he was sure he could almost still taste on his tongue. “Oh.”

He stood up with great difficulty, rubbing his head with his hand, sending his hair into ruffled disarray. You didn’t exactly mean to look down and you also didn’t mean to let out a high-pitched screech at the sight of his manhood.

“You’re naked!”

You looked away quickly, heat flooding your cheeks as he grabbed a pillow, the one you’d just been lying on, and placed it over his junk.

“You’re naked, too!”

Though you hadn’t intended to, his indignant tone made you look at him, and you caught what was left of an embarrassed flush extending from his face, all the way down his neck. You clenched your jaw at the sight.

“Please don’t think about me naked,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut as the throbbing in your forehead returned.

“Sorry, love,” he said. A lopsided grin pulling at his lips despite the edge to his voice, his inner panic rather obvious beneath the surface. “But I think that ship’s already-“

“Fred!” you squeaked, your eyes growing wide. He stayed silent, but his smile didn’t budge, enjoying your flustered expression far too much. “Do you remember what happened?”

You looked at him then, properly this time. He was handsome, but you always knew that, what with his strong jawline and the long slant of his neck. The skin all over his collar and chest was pale and freckled and covered in dark, splotchy hickeys, you realised with a strange warmth flooding your system. You swallowed against the tightness in your throat as your eyes trailed down, taking silent note of the lean muscles of his arms and his toned stomach.

“No, but if the way you’re looking me up and down right now is anything to go by, I think I can take a guess how it started.”

“What- No- You… Fred, you are so irritating,” you spluttered, annoyed that he could get you so riled up so easily. He shot you a lazy grin, the same one you’d seen almost every day since Ginny introduced the two of you. From the day you met, you and Fred had a habit of bickering constantly about nothing and everything all at the same time and you were sure that had you not been a close family friend, you’d have been fired years ago. Thinking of the family for the first time, your face soured as you dreaded to think what their reaction would be if they found out about how you spent your night. They’d probably hate you.

“You’re not too bad yourself, love.”

You shot him a dry look before remembering where you were. “I have to leave. Like right now.”

You didn’t wait for him to reply, too busy searching the ground for your clothes, heat searing under your skin at the haphazard display of them on the floor.

“Hey, wait, hold on,” Fred said, reaching out to you with one arm, holding the pillow with the other. You bit your lip, forcing yourself to focus.

“What?”

“Shouldn’t we…” he voice wavered slightly, a first for Fred. “Shouldn’t we talk about this?”

“This-“ you said, pointing between you and him, your underwear flying around in your grip. “Was a mistake.”

You noticed the way his eyes lingered on your hand and huffed, reaching down the get the rest of your clothes, searching for your dignity whilst you were down there. He probably only wanted a shag and whilst that would be totally fine for someone else, you just couldn’t do that. Not with your history. Not with your feelings.

“But-“

You didn’t give him the chance to speak as you shot up sharply.

“Turn around then!”

His brown eyes turned dry as he tilted his head, a silent sarcastic question on his lips. Your frown deepened and he sighed, turning around dutifully. You rushed to put your clothes from the night before on, struggling to keep your balance, especially when your eyes stalled on his bare bum.

“You better be looking at my arse,” he said, his signature smirk loud in his voice. You couldn’t even try to respond, returning to your dressing with new-found haste.

That had been a week and a half ago and you were still avoiding a proper conversation with him. You’d talk, of course, you worked together, you had to, but it was always just courtesy, small talk, and then that deafening silence Fred hated so much. He missed the easy banter you had and more than anything, he missed you. It all just felt so wrong and he couldn’t help but feel that he’d messed everything up somehow. And so, if you asked him, that’s why he was stood there, hiding behind boxes of sweets stacked neatly on a row of shelves and watching you refill the massive tub of love potions. He felt like a creep, but he hadn’t formed the right sentences or backbone required to talk to you yet. And so, as you emptied the box in your hand and made to fetch another from the backroom, he went to follow you, stopped only by a familiar waistcoat, or rather the man wearing it.

“You alright there, Fred?” George asked, the smile in his voice more than evident as he looked down at his crouching brother.

“Just peachy, cheers, George.”

“So, you’re just stalking Y/N for fun then, yeah?”

Fred glared up at his brother, sighing and standing up under his expectant stare.

“What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing,” Fred said far too quickly. He cursed his defensiveness and groaned. Instinctively, he knew you wouldn’t have told anyone; you said it was a mistake, he reminded himself, earning a familiar sinking feeling at the memory. And so, he’d avoided mentioning it to anyone either, even George, who was now staring at him with a very suspicious scowl.

“Fine,” Fred huffed, rubbing his face with his hands. “At Ginny’s wedding we uh- we-“

Well, he didn’t really remember, did he? He knew on a base level what must’ve happened, but you’d both been so pissed and-

“You shagged.”

“How the bloody hell do you know that?”

George’s laughter only served to further Fred’s indignance. “You two disappeared at midnight, fawning over each other like lovesick teenagers… it doesn’t take a lot to connect those dots, Freddie.”

Fred’s expression soured. “So, everybody knows, then.”

“Afraid so. Mum’s chuffed, obviously, thinks it means you’ll finally get together. With you pair, it was inevitable, though. Especially with that industrial-strength Romanian firewhiskey Charlie smuggled in.”

Fred groaned at the memory, gripped the shelf in front of him so hard his knuckles turned white.

“It’s ruined everything, George. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

George laughed again.

“What’s so bloody funny?”

“You’ve both been mad for each other since fourth year and you think a quick screw is gonna change that? We’ve been placing bets on you for years.”

“You what?”

“You’re so bloody oblivious, the pair of you, honestly.”

“I don’t-“ Fred huffed, immediately dismissing the idea that you would fancy him in any way. There was no chance. “I don’t understand.”

George, helpful as ever, just shook his head, chuckling as Fred rested his forehead on his hands. Neither of them spoke for a moment, but when someone cleared their throat next to him, he sighed.

“George, I’m-“

He stopped short when he saw you, with your arms cross and eyebrows raised. You were clearly unhappy with him. It was hard for him to care though when his words caught in his throat at the sight of you.

“You’re not George.”

“Why are you spying on me?”

“I’m not-“

“Fred.”

“I am Fred, actually.”

Your vaguely threatening expression made him rethink his approach.

“I’m not spying on you,” he insisted, throwing his hands up. “I’m just watching… closely.”

You rolled your eyes. As you looked at him properly for the first time since the incident, a strange feeling stirred in your chest. He was the same Fred he had been before; the same handsome features and the same five-steps-ahead ingenuity behind his eyes, but somehow it was all different. A very bad different. You sighed, turning to go back to your restocking when his hand caught your wrist. You frowned, your eyes trailing from his hand to his face, studying his almost surprised expression.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” he said, his eyes oddly sincere. You swallowed. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes-“

“I’ll say-“

“Can you not just listen to me?”

“Not when you’re acting so strange!”

“I’m acting strange? You’re the one that’s barely said a bloody word to me since we-“

“Fred!”

“Oh, give off,” he huffed, finally letting go of your arm. “George already knows.”

“You told him?”

“The whole family knows! Apparently, love, we aren’t as subtle as we think.”

You groaned, leaning back against the cash register and sliding down it until you hit the floor, rocking your head back against the wood.

“Is it really that bad?” he asked, pausing a moment before sitting next to you, your shoulders almost touching. You rubbed your eyes with your hands, thinking about Ginny’s reaction when she found out. It was a surprise she didn’t hate you already.

“It’s not the same for you, Fred. This is your family, it’s fine for you. But I’m just this girl that’s friends with your sister and probably should’ve been fired ages ago and they probably think I’m a right slag-“

He barked a laugh, his head tipping back and smacking against the register loudly. Had you not have found his consequent pout annoyingly adorable; you probably would’ve been able to keep your frustrated tone without a smile tugging at your lips.

“What is so funny about that?”

“Well, I mean, you don’t need to be worried about that, do you? You’ve always been a slag,” he said, laughing at your offended expression as you smacked his arm, unable to contain your own laughter.

“You’re such a cheeky git.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N, you were never just some girl. You’ve been a part of this family since you were fourteen.”

You didn’t say anything at that, not even when you felt his eyes carefully inspecting your side profile.

“And it wasn’t a mistake for me,” he said, softer this time. “It’s actually been a very long time coming.”

You sighed, drawing your knees up to your chest and biting your lip.

“It wasn’t for me either.”

It wasn’t until his knee hit against yours that you mustered up the courage to look at him, floored slightly by the sheer amount of emotion in his eyes.

“So, what now?” you whispered, raising an eyebrow. It felt foreign to be so vulnerable with Fred, but you found that you didn’t hate it as much as you thought you would.

“Well,” he said, pulling back his sleeve to look at the time. “We’ve got about twenty minutes till we open and an empty cupboard about,” he squinted. “Thirty feet away.”

You wanted to be mad at him; that was always your go-to emotion with Fred, but as you watched him grin with his bright eyes and his tongue between his teeth, all you felt was a familiar fondness for this stupid, obnoxious, annoying man. And even as you stood up and let him pull you to the broom closet, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad about that either.

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years ago

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.33}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.5k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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They arrived in front of Morgan's private rooms a few minutes later, and it instantly sobered Robin up from her feelings of happiness and comfort that she had been able to cling onto ever since setting foot into the office earlier. If only life could always be as easy as it had seemed minutes ago, just Snape and her, and their relentless curiosity for magic and adoration for each other… But it wasn't, and both of them seemed to remember that as they stood in front of Morgan's door in silence. If they didn't find out about Morgan's reasons, didn't find out what this entire thing was about, there would be no life for Robin to lead at all.

She looked up at Snape next to her for a silent moment of gathering her wits, and his gaze spoke volumes of the same story. They could do this. They would find the bloody portrait, and then they would take the next step and the next and the next until this stupid mess was over with, until Morgan was no threat anymore. Whatever that might take. Even if it meant having to make Dumbledore their friend or enemy.

Upon a silent agreement that time was of essence, Robin got started on opening the door at last. It was warded rather heavily as she found, but that didn't stop her in the least, and on the contrary made things rather easy in return. Quite like paint that was applied in thick layers, she could peel them back and remove them all at once, even as thickly plastered as they were. A few minutes of quietly murmured spells and some trial and error later, the door swung open with a little squeaking noise and opened up the view of a perfectly ordinary, even if slightly ostentatious bed- and living room.

"I have to ask…" Robin spoke up quietly, once they had closed the door behind themselves and were now looking around the dark room with a lumos each. "Are you actually bad at breaking into places, or did you just pretend to be? Earlier today, I mean."

"I successfully worked as a spy in one of the worst wars known to wizarding history, and even beyond that, you have seen the neighborhood I grew up in. What do you think?" He asked in return, easily and without reproach, while yet he kept his focus on searching the room around them.

"Honestly, I think you could probably break into Azkaban unnoticed and back out again as well if you wanted to."

"That's perhaps a bit exaggerated, but the general sentiment is close enough."

"Then why did you want me to do it?" A small frown creased Robin's brows, as her eyes darted over the various pieces of luxurious furniture. "I'm sure you're far better at opening doors than I am."

"To humour you." Again, his reply came easily and with an almost graspable not-smirk engrained in his tone, and Robin inevitably had to smile as well while he went on. "In very much the same way you always do when you ask me to grab an item from the top shelves for you. You know as well as I do that you wouldn't even have to use your wand to collect it yourself, but instead you keep asking me to help you. Because you know how much it pleases me."

The smile on Robin's lips broadened, and finally her eyes found Snape on the other side of the room. "I had a vague idea that you knew I was doing it on purpose by now. Did you see that in my mind?"

"No. I simply know you well enough to know how well you know me."

"That's as confusing as it is amazing." She sighed with the same smile, then went back to searching the room with her eyes fixed on the shadowy corners and places. "And thank you, for humouring me. I needed it today."

For another ten minutes they searched the admittedly small chambers in well practiced collaboration, checking even the adjunct bathroom and the wardrobes, but they still came up empty handed. Robin ran a hand through her unruly hair in frustration, then looked up at Snape who was standing next to her in the open space in equal irritation. "The bloody portrait has to be here. It wasn't in the classroom nor in the office, so it just needs to be here. There's no other possibility!"

"Considering how… frequented Morgan's quarters are by visitors of various kinds, it would only seem logical that he hid it well enough to not be found by guests on accident, but close enough to retrieve for his private moments."

"Ugh…" Robin shuddered while pulling a face. "It's not your fault, but any way to phrase it just sounds disgusting to me."

"I try to ignore that as best as possible. But the facts remain as they are, and I believe he hid it in close reach. The question remains as to where."

"Let's see… Perhaps we have to think like Morgan if we want to find the stupid thing." She suggested, and upon Snape's attentive yet expectant expression, she elaborated as silently demanded. "If I was Morgan, a wizard of thirty something years who is obsessed with a girl who is my student and who I happen to have a painting of… I would put it in a place where I often see it. I would be a lazy arse, but clever enough to still get my way; which means I would hide it somewhere where I don't have to move it, only conceal it."

"Sounds reasonable."

"And if I was Morgan, I would put it in a place where I can enjoy it while following my daily routine, since I would always be short of time and everything else would be too much of a hassle."

"Still reasonable."

"So… where in my chambers would I spend a lot of time?" Robin frowned to herself, then started sauntering through the room once more. "The desk, perhaps. I would always be working here instead of my office."

"But would you, as Morgan, not choose a place to display it that doesn't demand a constant split of attention? Having the portrait near the desk would pose a terrible distraction from your work. And as much as I hate the man, he always finishes his grading and other work neatly and in time." Snape commented in return, and Robin found herself nodding along as she trailed away from the desk again.

"True, I wouldn't be able to focus if I was constantly tempted to look at something I am obsessed with. And I would be terrible at controlling my own impulses. So… where else would I spend a lot of time by myself? What would I like doing in my free time?" She sauntered over to the small sitting area in the far corner, frowning to herself in contemplation. "Reading, perhaps?"

"You really don't have the slightest idea about what goes on in the mind of the average male, regardless of age, do you?"

Robin turned back around to Snape with a scoff, a half smirk and one raised eyebrow. "But you do? I can hardly imagine that."

"I was unfortunate enough to live with a hoard of them back in my school days." He scoffed at the memory, rolling his eyes to himself before he continued on in obvious disdain for what he was saying. "Perhaps Morgan was taking a literal approach with his words about looking at the painting each morning and each night. Perhaps, he hid it in the very place where he spends his every morning and night indeed."

"You don't mean-... No. No…"

"I wish I could hope I'm wrong." The gravity of Snape's tone made Robin shudder a little, or perhaps it simply was the idea he was so subtly presenting, but she took a deep breath anyway and walked over to the large four-poster bed in determination. That same model seemed to be a staple for all staff rooms, and if Morgan had hidden the portrait there, she would find it.

Indeed, after a moment of pushing through the queasy and awkward feeling of searching the vile man's bed, Robin finally found what she was looking for. Hidden under the roof of the canopy, concealed and fixated in place with some subtle charms work, was the portrait that she had last laid eyes upon in her fourth year. The almost perfect image of herself, the eerie similarity that now was almost absolute, hidden in such a place for only Morgan's eyes to devour at his fancy. Robin felt sick at the thought, her stomach churning, and even the last hairs in her neck were standing upright now. Morgan really hadn't been joking about his literal need for her… she suppressed the need to gag, which was only followed by another unpleasant shiver. This was worse than any amount of blood had ever made her feel.

"I, uh… I found the portrait." She finally managed to speak out loud without the bile rising in her throat, and after another few seconds of staring at the bloody thing that still looked just like she remembered, she added, "The… other me really doesn't have earrings, just as we thought, but otherwise she could be my mirror image. Well, if I had lived a couple hundred years ago, that is."

Her words faded, but even after multiple moments of silence she still received no answer, nor did she hear Snape coming any closer to look at her findings for himself. With a confused frown, Robin turned to look through the open room behind her only to find him lingering by the desk now, a deep frown plastered on his own face as he inspected a dark brown wooden box in front of him in silence. Again, as so often, his expression and body language spoke volumes, this time of weariness and caution.

"Sev? What's wrong?" Robin couldn't keep the concern out of her voice as she skipped over to the other side of the room to stand beside him in an instant. For a moment she followed his gaze to the intricately decorated box on the tabletop. It was an intriguingly unique piece, even if Snape seemed to be rather lost in thought than to be studying the object itself, and she finally looked back up at him with unease written all over her features when he still didn't reply. "Talk to me. Please."

"I believe to have seen this very object in the headmaster's office before… Years ago, when I was a student, and again and again when I started teaching, but not any time recently. In one of the shelves in the far back of the room where all the important artefacts are stored, far out of everyone's reach." He answered at last, obviously lost in thought and consideration, which didn't do much to calm Robin's uproaring nervousness. If Snape was concerned, she should be double as much.

"Do you know what's inside?" She finally dared to ask, and while she wasn't sure if she even wanted to know the answer, she suddenly was very certain that whatever the box held would bring them closer to solving the mystery around Morgan and the Portrait. It had to, everything else just wouldn't make sense. But perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

"I have no idea." He mused, seconds before casting a detection charm for curses and dark magic over the object, only to have it come back negative. "But we should certainly take a look. Out of all the bizarre objects in Morgan's room, this is perhaps the second most curious after the portrait."

"Why do you think that?"

"Have you ever in the entire castle seen an object that required a key and not magic to unlock it?" He finally turned to Robin, then motioned to the box once more while his eyes stayed on her though. Frowning to herself, Robin leaned down closer towards the box and held her wand so that she could properly study the object in question with sufficient light. Indeed, there was a keyhole on the lid. Something she hadn't seen in use in the longest time. For a few minutes she tried every spell to open the box she had at her disposal, then however gave up in the light of her company's greater knowledge of such spellwork.

"That really is curious." She said as she straightened her back once more. "Do you want to try?"

"I already have."

"And?"

"There is nothing to be done without the corresponding key. It seems to be entirely unaffected by magic in general. And knowing who the box belonged to, it likely wouldn't do to simply break it open either."

"Pity." Robin sighed, stemming her hands into her hips as she thought. If the box really had been among the important artefacts in the headmaster's office for at least ten years and had still been there when Snape started teaching, then it must have not been in Morgan's possession much longer than the portrait. But if-...

"I can feel you thinking, Robin." Snape interrupted her thoughts before she really could get going deeper. "And usually that results in some brilliant revelation. Enlighten me, yes?"

"Right…" She breathed, nodding both to him and herself. "I was just thinking, if the box was in the headmaster's office from possibly before the time you started school until roughly when you started teaching, then it can't belong to Morgan and also can't have been in his possession for long."

"The latter is obvious, but what brings you to assume the former?"

"Well, when you started school at the tender age of eleven, then Morgan must've been like what, sixteen? Seventeen?" She reasoned, more guessing than knowing, but the point stood nonetheless. "Either way, as you previously pointed out, he is quite the ordinary male with an ordinary mind."

"That we have yet to determine for certain."

"I'm not talking about him going crazy over me, that's another issue entirely so let's just ignore that for a second. What I mean is that at whatever age he was when you started school, he was still a teenager. And how likely is it that a normal teenager possesses artifacts that are important enough to make the headmaster's top shelf?"

"I see your point." Snape mused, frowning to himself again for a moment. "In that case Dumbledore must have given it to him deliberately, at a point in time after I started teaching even though there does not seem to be an apparent reason for that particular timing. Which in return makes it highly unlikely that the contents of this box don't correlate to the portrait in some way."

"Precisely my line of thought."

"That makes it all the more important to find a way to open this crude thing now." He grumbled to himself and went back to studying the box intently. "Obviously Morgan will possess the key, but I sincerely doubt that Dumbledore doesn't still have one as well. He wouldn't part from anything of relevance without precautions."

"Wait, so there can be more than one key?" Robin's mind came to a sudden halt, then toppled over some more and finally changed direction. "I was under the impression that Morgan would logically have the only one."

"I see no reason why there couldn't be more than one. Creating them certainly must be a difficult procedure, but not impossible to replicate over and over again if desired."

"Oh gods…" Her voice grew shallow as her heartbeat sped up in an instant, followed by a cold rush of adrenaline while she mentally chastised herself. They had a lock without a key. She had a key without a lock. How stupid could she be not to make that connection sooner?!

"Minerva's key. Of course…" He came to the same conclusion as her then, eyes widening every so slightly as he watched Robin fumbling with her locket with slightly shaking hands. She had too much adrenaline in her body for anything else, was too exhausted and anxious… But this had to be the reason why McGonagall had given her a key for her birthday, and why she'd been so insistent on it that Robin kept it a secret. She had another key to this box, a key that wasn't supposed to exist.

"Fingers crossed…" Robin said under her breath as she finally put the small piece of metal to good use at last. It fit into the lock easily, and with a weary look up at Snape, Robin finally twisted it in one swift move. It obliged without resistance, and she pulled her hand back as if burnt when not one metallic clicking was heard from inside the box, but multiple in a row. Oh gods, hopefully she hadn't just set off some trap or self destruction or anything of the likes… But after a few seconds, the sounds faded, and the box sat still and innocently as ever on the desk before them.

"Do you wish to open it or shall I?" Snape asked quietly, but even he didn't dare to take his eyes off the box now.

"I'll open it, and you make sure that nothing jumps at me. Like always, yes?" She propositioned, nodding to herself to perhaps shake some of the fear out of her head. This was a good idea… she just needed to make herself believe that now. "We've been in plenty of situations like this before, haven't we? I go off to inspect some potentially dangerous thing, and you make sure I survive it. Isn't that what we always do when we go hunting for ingredients?"

"It is similar enough, yes."

"Good…" She took a deep breath, then placed her hand on top of the lid and looked over at Snape once more for a confirmation of what she was about to do. He motioned for her to go ahead, and after another second of hesitation, Robin finally had enough of herself and flipped the stupid box open with a start.

Nothing jumped at her, nor did she seem to have set off any kind of follow-up spells. It simply was a box, admittedly larger on the inside than the outside, but Robin barely took notice of that any longer, seeing how most of her own boxes and bags were graced with the same magic. What did surprise her however were the contents the box in front of her held now, in all their striking unspectacularity. A look at Snape confirmed that he shared that sentiment to the fullest. They had expected anything at this point… but not just a gigantic stack of parchments, ranging from literally ancient to almost modern.

"Well, at least we have something to look into now…" Robin sighed to herself as she frowned down at the pile of paper in front of her. "There has to be some kind of important information written on these, or nobody would've bothered hiding them that well. They will either give us answers, or leverage on Dumbledore who in return can give us answers."

"Indeed… However this is hardly the time nor place to look through an epos of loose leaf parchments." Snape said in argument with circumstance, which made Robin look up at him again while raising her eyebrows.

"Do you really think we should just take the box? Morgan will notice for sure, and then it won't be hard to guess for him who took it."

"I think we should take the parchments." He returned easily, then motioned to the object in front of them once more. "The lid had a thin layer of dust on it already, which means that Morgan likely knows the contents of these papers at this point and therefore has no need to open the box again any time soon. If we leave the box where it is, and with a bit of luck, he won't notice the papers' absence until we long have the information we need. Until we are ready to face him on equal grounds."

"Clever." Robin replied with a half smile. "As always."

Snape merely rolled his eyes in that exaggerated manner that humour her so much, then they finally went to gather up the papers into a portable pile in his arms. Half a minute later, Robin locked the box back up with her key, then hid the latter back inside her locket.

"What about the portrait?" She asked as they made for the door at last, after having spent decidedly too much time in Morgan's quarters already. "It feels wrong to leave it here, in that place… I know we have to, but it makes me feel sick nonetheless."

"As much as it bothers me, I'm afraid we have to leave it where it is indeed." He answered, then his voice turned into more of a growl than the rich silk it usually was. "But don't believe for even a second that I wouldn't gladly end his pathetic existence for lusting after you like this."

"Because I'm yours and only yours?" She couldn't help asking with a small smile, while she peeked out through the door into the empty hallways first before opening it further for him as well.

"Because you deserve better than that."

"But also because I'm yours."

"Yes."

"You really can't deny that you are quite territorial, you know…"

"I would rather call it protective than territorial."

"Same thing."

"Does it bother you?" He inquired calmly but in seriousness, looking down at Robin over the papers in his arms expectantly.

"Rather on the contrary." She replied with a small but affectionate smile. "It makes me feel almost too giddy with pride and adoration. I just wish you could show a little more of that in public too; would certainly keep the right people from bothering me. Oh well… I wish."

"Believe me, so do I." He sighed in return, then took another look inside Morgan's room once they both stood in the hallway. "Let us hope he will be too drunk upon his return to notice the traces we left."

"Or… I could turn back the time inside the room to before we arrived?" Robin suggested more than asked with a hopeful and pointedly innocent expression. "You know I can freeze objects in time… And I'm actually quite sure that I can turn time back in a limited space just as easily, as long as there are no people inside. That's way more difficult, or rather impossible without a timeturner."

"You are aware that technically tampering with time is forbidden in any regard, yes?"

"So is breaking into a professor's private chambers and stealing his papers."

For half a second Snape seemed to freeze in his protest, then a not-smirk tugged on his lips and he shrugged as far as his arms full of parchments allowed. "I ran out of arguments. Go ahead."

A mirroring smirk played on Robin's lips for a moment, then she took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand. She'd read more about messing with time than she should probably admit, going through the entire restricted section of the library without anyone ever putting a stop to her efforts. Really, all the fun magic was in the restricted section anyway. Everything that was worth learning about. The part about potions and herbology she'd already finished years ago, then the dark arts had followed a long time prior as well, and now finally she had moved on to researching charms, also in regards to the still impending NEWTs.

It took two attempts to cast the difficult spell successfully, but then the room looked precisely how it had before they had entered. Even the layer of dust on the box was back in place and undisturbed by fingerprints. Content with her efforts, Robin finally closed the door and placed the same wards on it that she had removed upon their arrival.

"Do you know what truly is a shame?" Snape asked after a moment, while they quietly made their way back through the dark hallways and down a few stories.

"Quite many things, but please, do enlighten me."

"That neither Morgan nor Flitwick will ever know how ridiculously talented you are in their subjects."

Robin let out a humoured huff in replacement for a certainly too loud chuckle. "Oh, I think Morgan does know at this point. I managed to fend him and his best efforts off after all, even if just barely. Isn't that what defense class is about?"

"About fending off your crazy professor? I certainly hope not."

Now Robin did snort a little, even though the topic itself should have been rather depressing. "It's ironic that I have to defend myself against him with defenses that he himself has taught me. Or rather I would have to, if I hadn't read so much more about the dark arts in advance. What truly saved me today wasn't anything I learned in defense class… but rather the things I came up with myself, or what you showed me. Things Morgan didn't see coming."

"And therefore my point stands."

"How so?"

"Well, any idiot can learn the textbook by heart and master the school taught spells."

"Most idiots can't, in fact, as you very well know. They're far too narrow minded to even accomplish such a thing, and-..."

"Anyway…" He went on, in a manner that reminded Robin an awful lot of her own mannerisms, but she gave him that and let him go on. "What makes you such a brilliant witch and not just an outstanding student is that you don't even try to stay within the given boundaries. Most of the things you excel at are either straight out illegal for most people, or at least so far out of the school curriculum that your teachers will never know what you truly can do."

"I don't really mind." Robin shrugged in return. "It's a good thing that Morgan doesn't know me well enough to know what I can do. That's my only advantage over him."

"I certainly agree with that assessment. Perhaps once Morgan isn't an issue anymore we can see to it that you get the recognition you deserve."

"I just want to ace my NEWTs and move on to more interesting matters of study once and for all. I don't need anyone's recognition. The only person I ever actually tried to impress is you, and that seems to have worked out for me just fine." She replied with a small smirk, which earned her another of those lovely feignedly annoyed expressions in return. They both knew she was right though, she had impressed him so many times and likely always would, and it had indeed worked out in both their favour. And, almost needles to say at this point, Robin felt like they both were equally proud of that fact after all.

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shiftylinguini · 4 years ago

Note

Do you take prompts? If not, have a nice day, but if so, I love your Bound series, and I was wondering if you'd consider a prequel about Remus first realizing that he's both desperate for, and desperately possessive of, Sirius, when they were back in school.

YES, hello, I do, however it goes without saying that it takes me forever to actually post them LOL. Anyway, I wrote this yonks ago and tidied it up this afternoon because I was in a Mood, and here we go.

Warnings for jealousy, Hogwarts era, casual promiscuity and references to Sirius/OFC, werewolfy imagery, Irish Remus and general angst regarding boys being careless with each others’ feelings. enjoy! lol.

It’s Halloween, and Remus is miserable.

***

It’s Halloween, and Remus is miserable.

There's a party in the dungeons; the Slytherins are hosting. "They're twats," James declared before he left their dorms, deliberately dishevelled in his pirate costume, a cutlass dangling from one hand and cider in the other. "But they throw a good piss up."

Peter agreed, predictably affable and struggling into his Peter Pan outfit. Sirius ignored them both, concentrating on doing his eyeliner right. He's a self-declared glam rock icon tonight, black glitter and flares and Marc Bolan curls. His pirate costume (second mate to James's Hook, of course) lay discarded on his bed in favour of something louder, more offensive, more Muggle.

They've all been too polite to ask why. (They all know it's because Regulus might be there).

The party probably is good. Remus isn't there.

He was there, for an hour or so. Just long enough for two chipped mugs of butterbeer heavily spiked with cheap whiskey and to see Sirius with his tongue down Margot Holdings' throat, his lipstick smearing crimson onto hers.

Remus begged off then, made his escape after throwing James some crap excuse about how the moon two nights ago was still making him feel woozy. James knew it was bullshit. He said nothing though, and let Remus scarper off like a kicked dog. James is the best of mates that way; he bulldozes through most conversations and into people's lives but he knows when to be quiet, how to keep a secret.

When to let Remus skulk off to their dorm to hide in his bunk and stew about Sirius.

Remus pulls the curtains tight. He kicks his shoes off, but leaves the rest of his costume as it is, pressing his face to the pillow and probably smearing lazy Dracula greasepaint all over it. It was a half-arsed effort, really. Three quarter-arsed, at best; Remus doesn't like dressing up as monsters. (He has enough of a time playing human).

He closes his eyes, then opens them again. He huffs grumpily against the pillow, wriggling to get comfortable and failing. He feels crap. He has no valid excuse for it―not one he's willing to admit to.

James knows about Remus and Sirius, and the bed hopping between them. He has ears, and eyes, and the dorm's not that big. It's not really a secret. The four of them just act like it's one, for everybody's sake.

Whatever it is, it's usually just a mess. And not a particularly monogamous one.

Remus has no reason to be upset about it. He and Sirius aren't an item. They're something, but Sirius isn't breaking any rules by snogging pretty girls under dimmed party lights. It might be nice if he didn't do it in front of Remus, but it also might be nice if he hadn't tried to make Remus a murderer two years ago. There's a lot of ways they could be nicer to each other. In perspective, the kissing doesn't seem that bad.

Remus could do the same, and might, if he trusted himself around anyone other than Sirius. (If there were girls as pretty as Sirius).

Remus doesn't trust himself with people other than Sirius, though. He's bookish and boring and plain and sometimes he daydreams about ripping his classmates apart. He's tall and pleasant and polite, and he's forever five years old, a rag doll in a wolf's jaws in a field in Ireland, changed and scarred. Sirius gets it, even if he can be a prick. He pushes buttons. He lights up the room. He gets under Remus's skin and makes him feel sane at the same time. He's one of the few people Remus trusts himself and the wolf around, even if he doesn't really trust Sirius anymore. Sirius fucked that right up for the both of them. It's confusing, but Remus is smart. He'll figure his way around it.

He devours books instead, pages and scrolls and tomes. He tries to be boring. He tries to be plain. He tries to be someone people like but mostly forget, the nice Irish lad tagging along with loud James and cocky Sirius and sweet Peter. He worries sometimes that he's doing it too well.

He tries not to think of Margot's hands on Sirius's waist, but he falls asleep to fevered images of them just the same.

***

Remus half-wakes to the <i>swish</i> of curtains flinging open. There's a low giggle and then the thump of platform boots hitting the floor.

"Moony." The bed dips. "Moooonyyy."

Remus is half asleep, surfacing from dreams he's already forgetting. He snuffles into his pillow, as if he can bury himself like a mole and back into sleep.

He's almost back asleep when he feels arms wrapping around his chest, Sirius spooning up behind him. He smells like alcohol, the remnants of cologne and clean sweat. He smells like someone else too; Remus shuts that thought down as quickly as he can, but it's too late. That little wolfy part of him that doesn't vanish with the full moon is always attuned to these things, pricking up its ears and growling low and threatening. Remus feels it in his belly. He's wide awake now.

"Sirius," he whispers, low and annoyed. He swallows. "You know this isn't your bed, yeah?" he grumbles.

Sirius laughs. He's drunk, loose and pliant. Remus doesn't know if that means he fucked her. He could tell, if he tried, if he let the wolf sniff her out. He's not going to do that though. He's got to have some self respect.

Sirius snake arms squeeze around him tighter. His knees are tucked up behind Remus's. "I couldn't find you," he slurs. "And then James said you were sad." Sirius exhales on a half yawn.

Remus waits, but Sirius doesn't say more, as if this is enough of an explanation as to why he's crawled into Remus's bed and wrapped around him like a vine.

Honestly, it is. Sirius can be complex, and sometimes he can be impressively simple.

And if Remus keeps his eyes shut, and doesn't look at the time on his watch, then he can pretend it's only been half an hour since he left the party―that Sirius noticed quickly and didn't stay on for hours, 'til dawn was approaching and the morning birds were chirping, didn't finger Margot behind a statue and kiss her neck until he left marks and then saunter back to his other mates, proud and loose-limbed and swigging whiskey before working up a sweat on the makeshift dance floor. That he didn't ask James as an afterthought once he'd had his fun, <i>hey, where did Mooney bugger off to?</i> That he didn't come and hop into Remus's bed as a way to end his night instead of the purpose of it.

It's a night thought. It's horse shit, and Remus knows it, but if he never sees the time then it will never be confirmed. If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, if your best mate is a careless prick but you weren't there to see it, then did it really happen?

Behind him, Sirius's breath gusts over the back of his neck, and then again. The rhythm of sleep. His chest rises and falls easily, pressed all up against Remus's back, hips flush against Remus's pyjama-clad thighs. Remus keeps his own breathing shallow, tries not to breathe him in. It makes his head spin a little, not quite enough oxygen getting into his lungs. He's wide awake, and so is the wolf, the scar on his shoulder prickling like pins and needles and his senses tingling too.

His pillow is going to smell like Sirius for days now after this, longer if he hides the case from the elves and doesn't let them wash it. He'll want to roll in it, smell like Sirius, rub his face over the plain cotton and mouth at it until his breath dampens the pillow and Remus can taste it on his tongue. He might let himself do it. He'll hate himself afterwards, but he might let himself all the same.

He blinks, his vision swimming a little from his half-held breath before he gasps down a lungful, and there it is. Sirius all around him, thick in the air. He smells sweet, and sleepy, relaxed and content, and with a bitter pang Remus can smell her too. The wolf inside him can smell her. Remus braces for the comforting lurch of anger, of rage, for gnashing teeth and snarling lips, but it doesn't come.

There's a whine building in his chest instead, something sad and bereft, hurt. It feels like ears pulled back against his head, like a soft muzzle pressed against the cold ground. It sounds like a kicked dog, crawling on its belly back for more anyway.

Remus sniffs, blinking the sting away from his eyes and feeling his lashes come away wet. He curls a fist into his blanket, fingers tense and his breath shaky as he alternates between short sharp breaths and letting himself breath Sirius in, his chest tight from more than Sirius's boa constrictor arms. His eyes droop eventually, his face sore from frowning, but sleep hovers in his periphery like the moon slipping out of view over a highway.

Remus is too smart to fall for Sirius. The wolf isn't.

***

#wolfstar #remus x sirius #bound series #my fic #pre series sorta #all mistakes are mine #also yes #i started this on halloween 2020 lmfao #im such a dick

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cockroachgirl1997 · 3 years ago

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today was so bad ur girl is EPISODING. omg. last night i cried in my bfs bathroom for like 30 mins then excused myself n went to bed then woke up this morning still Feeling It so again went for a 30 min session in the bathroom n was like ok this cannot continue Here so i packed all my stuff told the bf im going home with the ugliest tear strained voice n just dropped off the face of the earth w no further comment. felt stupid then bc i hadnt even checked my connection home so i just spent an hour outside in the disgusting humid rain next to the station. texted my friend bc i craved company but he was at work. impulse bought half the contents of a grocery store to place it next 2 the black out drunk homeless guy who always hangs out in the area n then fled the scene bc i literally cannot be seen doing stuff like this lest the person thanks me or another person approaches me about it. I Do Not Want To Talk I Want To Do This Completely Anonymously Please And Thank You. pretend im not there. i was also wearing sunglasses the whole way home bc i needed'nt be witnessed crying like a little bitch. anyways it took me way too long to get home but it was good bc i had to walk a lot which made me feel slightly less wretched. spent 5 bucks on a kebab which i ate while getting especially soaked since no busses were going n i had to walk the rest of the way home. at some point i had also texted w my bf bc he was confused about what was going on w me so i vented a bit about how shit everything is rn and he ordered a supplement thats supposed to work like ssris or whatever bc we are both huge fans of self medication and taking both recreational and otc drugs. spent more money on the internet and overall i just threw out 200 bucks in total today i think. anyways i found a psychiatrist who specializes in adult adhd and accepts people with normal insurance and this gave me so much hope that ive had way more energy since then. i also decided to #nevergiveup and sent my university 10 more emails bc i will NOT accept them ruining my future just bc they are too lazy to respond to important emails. on monday i will be calling the psychiatrists office to make an appointment and also terrorize the university people via phone bc i doubt they will be any more arsed to read my new emails. am going to bed now bc im working tomorrow and need 2 be fresh since my boss asked me to be the instructor for a new person who is joining us. which is kind of a big deal to me since it shows she trusts in my abilities. anyways. goodnight now. mwah mwah xx

#personal

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kingonafiftymetreroad · 4 years ago

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Fic Rec Post

Hey everybody! One of my secret santas asked me what my favorite fics are so I decided to make a full blown rec post just for them. These are a little all over the place so I hope you can find something that you enjoy here! ☁️✨

Please make sure to read all tags and warnings before reading a fic. And don’t forget to kudos/comment!

🌙 The Finish Line (Is A Good Place For Us To Start) by LoadedGunn 122k

Louis Tomlinson, one-time Formula 1 World Champion, is looking forward to the 2013 season. He’s got Zayn in his garage and Liam in his ear, he’s got Cowell Racing backing him despite former indiscretions, he’s got experience and the best race car out there. Not to mention he’s the only racer they have, after Oliver dropped out late last year.

It hasn’t occurred to him that Oliver would have to be replaced by February. That is, until he finds himself at a party celebrating Harry Styles leaving Ferrari for Cowell. Harry hotshot Styles, who broke a record last year and is probably looking to make a big splash. Harry Styles, who is talented and somewhat intimidating. Harry Styles, who left Ferrari for reasons unknown and seems kind of lonely and harmless in person. Lonely, harmless, hot as fuck. Whatever.

The first thing Louis does is take him under his wing. From there it’s nine months of slow-burning romance, the past catching up to them, turning into the human puppy pile that is OT5 and a lot of feelings until, of course, reaching the finish line.

🌙 a promise lives within you now by sarcasticfluentry 46k

A Lord of the Rings-inspired Middle Earth AU. Louis is an Elven prince, next in line to become King of Mirkwood, and Harry is the orphaned Human boy who grows up alongside him. They fall in love, but Louis’s obligations to the throne, Harry’s mortality, and impending war threaten to tear them apart.

🌙 if you're for real and not pretend by brownheadedstranger 21k

In which Harry works in a bakery and Louis can't seem to find what he's looking for.

🌙 Into The Blue by zarah5 117k (story is locked, ao3 account required to read)

AU. In which Louis is Harry's scuba instructor and quite happy to provide the requested special treatment, pun fully intended. It can't be all that difficult to convince Harry that they're on the same page, right? Also, Niall and Liam may or may not be dating, and Zayn is surrounded by emotionally stunted idiots. He bears it with dignity.

🌙 Don't Unplug Me Or Shut Me Down by slashter 7k

Louis scowls. "He's a photography student. He works with gorgeous models and probably breaks hearts with his smile. I'm a nerd. I earn my money fixing broken crap, and for some stupid reason, I like it. He wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts, he's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers, et cetera, et cetera." Louis sighs. "I swear, the coolest thing I've ever done is wear contacts."

Basically, Louis is a self-proclaimed nerd who fixes things and Harry seems too perfect to keep breaking as many things as he does.

🌙 You Are The Blood by sarcasticfluentry 175k

A seventh-year Hogwarts AU in which Niall gets all the girls, Liam goes on a journey of self-discovery, Zayn falls in love, Harry wants something more, and Louis tries to figure out once and for all why he, a Muggleborn, was sorted into Slytherin.

🌙 this must be what all the fuss is about by youcomecrash 3k

"You're sweaty," he mumbles matter-of-factly. Louis opens his eyes and raises his head from between his arms. Harry's just staring up at him with a lazy expression and Louis kind of wants to kiss him to sleep. "That's because it's a hundred degrees in here, babe."

🌙 I Fell From the Sky For You (Like a Shooting Star) [by louserz] by waddupjordan (orphan_account) 8k (This was originally posted on tumblr by @louserz and this person had permission to post it on ao3 for the author. if the original author sees this and wants me to take this off of my rec post please DM me and I will. This fic displays elements of depression and homelessness although it is not tagged that way so please take caution in reading this. I don’t want to accidentally trigger anybody.<3)

Harry owns a bookstore, Louis is homeless, and apparently even shooting stars fall in love.

🌙 Sail Across Me by iwillpaintasongforlou 21k

Harry is a prince that is about to be forced into marriage against his will and running away to sea seems like a much better option. Louis is the captain of the infamous pirate ship The Rogue and he has a thing for helping defenseless creatures. Especially when they're as pretty as this one.

🌙 but maybe im just in love when you wake me up by theonewiththelarrystories 6k

lazy morning sex, prompted by Asher: "like a whole sleepy sunday morning vibe of waking up together and then louis pulling a sleepy harry into a warm bath and louis washing harry all over. a bit of body!worship, louis gently working conditioner into harrys curls and him practically purring. Then louis taking it slow with kisses on harrys neck and gentle touches and then fingering harry until hes whining with his head thrown back against louis’ shoulder little needy noises coming from his perfect fucking lips. and then harrys boneless and content while louis leads him back to their bed and spreads him out face down and rims the fuck out of him until hes screaming and then he fucks him gently and then they cuddle on the couch and harry wears louis’ white sweater and louis calls him ‘sweetheart.’"

🌙 strawberry milk fic by Wankerville 158k (3 parts)

This is a 3 part story. The 1st part was originally written alone and then the author added the rest. You can just read the 1st part (19k), and you’ll still be satisfied without feeling added pressured to read the whole thing. Please read all the tags and warnings for each fic beforehand!

🌙 and we live like legends now by soleilouis 16k girl!direction

harry works at a juice bar, and louis is the cute girl that skates at the park right next door.

🌙 Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore 102k (story is locked, ao3 account required to read) @mediawhorefics

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

🌙 jump in the deep end by istajmaal 5k

Louis’s stomach lurches as he closes the last bit of distance, Harry’s nose settling between his arse cheeks and pushing them apart. Harry’s lips brush against the puckered skin around Louis’s hole in a kiss and Louis lets out a whine so high-pitched he barely recognizes it as coming from himself—what if I'm not clean enough, what if Harry hates it, what if Harry pushes me away—but then Harry’s long, wet tongue swoops in a circle around Louis’s rim and Louis feels like all the breath is knocked out of him. He grabs for Harry’s hand, still digging into his thigh, and squeezes over it, until Harry releases his vice grip on Louis’s thigh and laces his fingers through Louis’s.

or, Louis's arse is a sensitive subject, so Harry approaches it gently. With his tongue.

🌙 the wheel breaks the butterfly by embodied 4k girl!direction @aliensingucci

“Out with it, Styles,” Louis groans. Harry’s suddenly regretting this whole thing, and she’s sure she’s beet red now, so she just blurts it out so fast she’s not sure if Louis even understands her right away.

“I’ve never gotten head before.”

AU. harry and louis are roommates. girls' night ends a little differently than usual.

🌙 you flower, you feast by stylinsoncity 18k

He's King of the Underworld, but don't assume Louis has it all. He could stand for some excitement in his monotonous, eternal life and maybe, even.....a soulmate.

(Despite not having a soul.)

And along came "Harry".

🌙 you change, water sea by got2ghost 4k girl!direction (ziam with side larry)

“Zayn wants me to teach her how to make a girl squirt,” Louis says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. Liam chokes on the water she’d been swigging from her thermos, which makes Louis throw her head back and laugh. Zayn’s brows pinch together and she pats Liam gently on the shoulder, muttering, ‘you okay babes?’

🌙 The Case Of The (Definitely Not Haunted) Styles Mansion by BriaMaria 40k

“So there’s a sense of humor buried beneath all that condescension, huh?” Louis said when he’d stopped laughing.

“It’s not condescension, it’s intelligence. I understand you might not be able to recognize it yourself,” Marcel said, then slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh god, I’m sorry.”

Louis stepped closer, his eyes on Marcel’s face. “For being an asshat?”

“For being rude,” Marcel said, from beneath his palm.

Louis shifted a half-step closer until he was at the very edge of Marcel’s personal space. It felt like he was nudging at it, asking to be let in. Marcel flushed hot for no reason.

“Lucky for you it takes quite a lot to actually insult me,” Louis said taking one step closer. Too close. Too close.

Marcel met Louis’ eyes. Those blue eyes that reminded Marcel of poetry instead of science, lyrics instead of formulas. They were so pretty he wanted to drown in them.

---

Or the Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted.

🌙 You are the Lyrics by TheIfInLife 4k @larryficwriter

or, Harry wears lingerie for the first time and Louis definitely approves.

🌙 Wild at Heart Ain't Hard to Find by QuickedWeen 11k girl!direction @becomeawendybird

Louis and her best friends Niall and Liam always take an annual vacation together. This year Niall has picked Redwater Canyon, a small tourist town where everyone lives like it's the Old West. There are saloons, stagecoaches, and limited access to WiFi.

The town boasts tours, excursions, activities, and the hottest woman Louis has ever seen in the form of the local blacksmith.

🌙 Withdrawal Was the Weeping by QuickedWeen 11k girl!direction

Confined by life and society, Harry spends her Sunday afternoons walking aimlessly about the countryside as it's her only source of freedom. One Sunday she is aided by the most beautiful woman she has ever met, but not everything is as it seems. Was it a trick of the light? Was it Harry's own active imagination? There is nothing to do but try to find her again.

🌙 i must admit i thought i'd like to make you mine by disgruntledkittenface 50k @disgruntledkittenface

Louis fell apart when her ex broke up with her and moved across the country. Just as she’s starting to move on, Zayn comes back to town for their mutual friends’ wedding – with a new girlfriend as her plus one.

Blindsided and scrambling to save face, Louis lets herself get talked into a fake relationship with her new friend Harry. Their arrangement makes Louis feel pathetic and embarrassed, but it’s only going to last a few weeks. She just has to get through the wedding – what could happen?

🌙 tempted by the fruit of another by disgruntledkittenface 3k (zayn/louis/harry)

Zayn didn’t mean to look. And she certainly didn’t mean to watch.

It’s just that Louis and Harry are the worst hosts in the world; they’re in their bedroom, clearly fucking (again), and so loud that Zayn can’t concentrate on her game of Among Us in the living room. Liam has killed her twice. Liam. So she just went down the hallway to make sure their bedroom door was at least closed.

It wasn’t.

Zayn stumbles into a world of possibility when she stays with Harry and Louis for a few weeks.

🌙 I have more favorite fics but they are not included here due to them being deleted from ao3. They’re saved in PDF form both on my laptop and my phone (I go back and read them all the time) so if you’re interested in those you’re welcome to reach out to me and ask privately and I’ll share what I can.

This turned out a lot longer than I had expected. If you read through the whole thing thank you! ✨

#☁️✨#fic rec #masterpost #long post #fic rec masterpost #ls #fav #i plan on adding more fics as i read them too #hope ur able to find something to read ss!#if ur looking for more specific types of fics lmk and ill see what i got :)#fic #larry stylinson #my post #my recs

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rachelbethhines · 4 years ago

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Short Cuts

So the reviews for Rapunzel’s Return are taking longer then expected and due to real life complications I’ve now fallen behind in my intended schedule. So in order to catch up, I’ll be doing a series of rapid-fire mini reviews of all the official shorts that the series released in addition to the usual reviews.

Summary: Ten shorts were released throughout the three seasons of the show detailing Rapunzel’s misadventures in Corona.

Check Mate

Pascal tries to get Max to play chess with him, but the horse is too busy with guard duty to play. Pascal’s antics wind up causing a fire and Max must save him.

This short, plus the later Unicorn-y short, and the episode Pascal’s Story pretty much confirms that chess is pascal’s favorite game. Shame that’s the only idiosyncrasy that the series gives besides being the conscious of the group that sometimes gives the other characters guilty looks.

I said it before and I’ll say again, the animal sidekicks in the franchise don’t have enough personality to carry whole episodes by themselves, but shorts like this are ok and where things like this should have stayed.

Prison Bake

Attila recounts how he used his baking skills to break his fellow pub thugs out of prison back before they met Rapunzel.

This just raises so many questions. Why were they arrested? What was their punishment besides jail? Why weren’t they just re-arrested later after escaping? If they were all wanted criminals before meeting Raps then why did they try to call the guards during the movie to collect the reward money on Eugene’s head? Do we really think “crack-down on crime” Frederic would pardon them before Rapunzel’s return? How do we know they weren’t just framed given how shitty Corona’s legal system is?

Like I just need a tiny bit more context show. Two to three minutes isn’t really long enough to set up conflicts. These shorts should have been more like five or six minutes really.

Also Ludwig the Castle Cook is also just wasted. They built a model for him and hired a VA and everything and all he does is appear in this one short and nothing else. Like I think he makes a non-speaking cameo in The Alchemist Returns or something, but that’s it. It’s a clear mismanagement of resources.

Make Me Smile

Rapunzel tries unsuccessfully to make Old Lady Crowley smile, but it’s not until she holds an honest conversation with the woman does she find a solution.

This is best short out of the bunch, and not just cause it stars the great Pat Carol either.

This is how Rapunzel should have been handled in the main series proper. Which is why I screen-grabbed this whole convo. It’s perfect.

Rapunzel spent 18 years lock in a tower. Of course she doesn’t understand different perspectives from her own cause her development has been stunted. She’s compassionate but lacks empathy. So she has a hard time connecting with others, but once she slows down an actually takes the time to listen to people she is capable of learning.

We needed more of this; just on a larger scale. Have Raps make mistakes, have people be annoyed with her or right angry when she messes up, and then have her learn.

Why the series thought it was a good idea to have everyone kiss her royal arse instead while she dug in her heels and consendinly took charge of everything even while still screwing up, I’ll never know.

Hare Peace

Feldspar asks Rapunzel to take care of his “precious”. Rapunzel thinks he means a pet rabbit, and is run ragged trying to keep up with it, but it turns out he was talking about his prized cabbage instead.

These shorts overall work a lot better than the main show. They know what they are and don’t try to be anything else. Therefore they deliver what is promised competently. They’re nothing amazing nor groundbreaking and in truth I wouldn’t want a whole series of them, but I get the feeling this is what the head executives at Disney were expecting when they signed off on the show and not whatever mess the main series turned out to be.

Night Bite

Rapunzel, Eugene, and the animals are out camping for the night and Max gets irritated by all the bugs.

What doesn’t work so well is the placement of some of the shorts. This particular short aired during season two and indeed that would make sense given that they are camping out here. Which why would they do that if they were still in Corona...

Yet some of the later shorts, which also aired during season two, clearly do take place in Corona debunking that theory. Just some context would be nice show, that’s all.

Also this short is meh.. not bad, not, good, just there.

Hiccup Fever

Rapunzel gets the hiccups and everyone in Corona seems to have advice on how to get rid of them, but only Eugene has the solution.

I’d argue that this is the funniest of the shorts. I legit laughed out loud at some points which is rare.

However it does sadly prove on thing.

Rapunzel was always a shit girlfriend, even before season three.

Being a douche to your boyfriend isn’t funny show.

Snowball

Rapunzel and Pascal plan to have some fun in the snow and things go awry.

So where and when is this exactly?

Unlike the other shorts, the context and setting for this one is paramount to whether or not Rapunzel is a simply lazy or a an outright dick.

For you see, Rapunzel had never been outside in the show before Queen for a Day. Ergo, this can only take place during the latter half of season one or during season two.

Now season two makes a lot of sense. They’re at some cabin in the woods that was never mentioned are seen on screen before and this did air during season two anyways. If that is the case then Raps just avoiding her planned road trip like always.

However, the last short and the next two also aired during season two and all of those do take place in Corona during season one and even the wiki states that they were all meant to take place during season one in original concept.

Yet if that is the case then Rapunzel is ignoring Varian right now and playing around in the thing that almost killed him...

Oh and that still doesn’t explain where this cabin is. Is it the mountain retreat that the King and Queen were going to spend their anniversary at?

What’s really mind boggling though is that they made this short in order to reuse the character models from Queen for a Day in order to save money, but then went and built this whole set that’s never seen outside of this short.

Like seriously who was on charge of the budget decisions in the series?

Hairdon't

Rapunzel offers to cut Eugene’s hair but then messes it up. She spends all day trying to stop Eugene from seeing his new do, but turns out the hairstyle becomes a hit with the Corona townspeople.

Rapunzel seriously lucked out here and it borderlines on the main series style levels of BS. She asks Eugene not to get upset before he sees what she’s done and, guess what, he is rightly upset.

Honestly the series needed to let Eugene get angry at Rapunzel for stuff. That’s what happens in relationships, you will make your partner mad at times and that’s ok. It’s all about how both of you handle that.

We never get to see how Eugene and Rapunzel would handle a real ordinary conflict and not just magic/ex girlfriend shenanigans that don't end with them putting off talking about it.

Even their best episodes in season two still are over conflicts that don’t have any immediate impact on their lives and are mostly hypotheticals to them, like kids or how other people should approach dating. And of course by season three Eugene is just reduced to a doormat.

Unicorn-y

Rapunzel tries to help Vladimir find his missing prized unicorn figurine in this spoof of old detective movies. Turns out Max and Pascal had found it and were using it to play chess.

Ok, first off, Eugene has the patience of a saint and deserves so much better than Raps and her bullcrap here. Same goes for Lance who is tied up as well during this scene.

But also this is another short that needed to be more than three mins long. The “mystery” is over before it even starts and the film noir parody only barely has time register in the viewer’s mind and then it’s over with.

Shorty’s Theme Song Takeover!

The last of the shorts aired after the show had ended as part of the Disney Channel’s on going promotional gimmick “Theme Song Takeover!”

Shorty finds Rapunzel’s journal and sings his own version of the show’s theme song, “Wind in my Beard”.

It’s ok.

All of Disney’s animated shows for the 2019/2020 line up has done one and some are funnier than than this and others not so. The Shorty one is pretty middle ground but what makes it work is that Rapunzel is completely oblivious to what’s going on and only Shorty, always the anomaly of the series, can perceive the fourth wall. Thus proving he was never really human.

As for placement, we know it’s season three cause of Rapunzel’s dress and they’re mostly likely inside the Snuggly Duckling right now. So just slot it in wherever you see fit.

Conclusion

That’s it for the shorts. The rest of Rapunzel’s Return should be up later this week and then hopefully I’ll be all caught up in time to cover the next episode next week.

#tangled #tangled the series #rapunzles tangled adventure #short cuts #anti-rapunzel #anti-tangled

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professordrarry · 4 years ago

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Hey! It's my first time doing this, so bare with me: College students (maybe something like arts?). Academic rivals. Late for class and alone on the classroom because class moved to somewhere unknown on campus! -- Hope you have the best time with the asks ;)

Hello! this took forever. I hope you don’t mind that I also combined it with one from @drarryruinedme7 because they just flowed so nicely together

“What are you doing here?”

Harry was out of breath. He definitely hated that he was out of breath, especially when he looked around and found that it was only Malfoy in the room. Which honestly didn’t make much sense since he was almost fifteen minutes late for this tutorial. “What am I doing here?" Malfoy returned cooly." well, that's rich. Considering you're the late one. "

"I'm always late," Harry replied quickly. Which was obviously a stupid thing to say. He felt the same way he had every day since the game the week before. Flustered and alone, tired and confused. Plus, out of breath and overheated. None of this was helped when Malfoy turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I've noticed," he quipped with a smirk. "Well, if you must know, it would seem tutorial has been moved." When Harry did not reply, Malfoy held up his phone. "So I mean, I've texted everyone I know on the design course. All four of them. And I can't figure it out. So if you have any leads, that would be the only helpful thing you've done this morning."

"I literally just got here," Harry sighed back. He pulled out his phone nevertheless and tried to put his tone away as he texted Pavarti. "You can't possibly know what I've done with my morning."

Malfoy snorted. "I do so. Have you seen your hair? Because I am. Right now. If you didn't wake up twelve minutes ago and then run to campus, I will put myself in goal next game."

The statement startled a laugh out of Harry just as his phone pinged. "Fine," he said begrudgingly. "But I'm tempted to lie so they the world gets to see you attempt a save."

"Hey! I'll have you know I can play any position and be completely proficient."

Any position, huh?

In his mind, the obvious quip floated immediately forward. Easy. Flashy. Fun. But the words stuck like a gob of gum in his throat. Because….well, because Saturday, but he wasn't going to dwell on that.

He tried to cover for himself quickly and held up his phone. "Patel. Class was moved to the B Wing room. Something about the printer."

"Well, that's fucking fantastic, isn't it. Right then. Off we go."

"Y-you...I can… Okay, fine."

He pushed his pack straps back up his shoulder and reflexively pushed his glasses flat to his face and then followed Malfoy’s swift form back out of the A Building onto the quad, back into the sunny morning. He exhaled as the light brought him back to the floaty, happy mood he'd been in that morning. The tension eased out of his bones. He was almost able to ignore the fact that Malfoy had slowed his pace to match his shorter stride. And that he was in that grey cardigan and denim, hands shoved in pockets in a very pointed way. That he was very decidedly not talking to Harry.

They'd made it halfway across the square when Malfoy seemed to veer drastically off course.

"Malfoy, B wing," Harry called as Malfoy got further away. "Late for class? Remember?"

Malfoy spun to face him and shrugged. "We're twenty minutes late to a forty-minute tutorial. I'm getting coffee from the good cart. You coming?"

"I—" which was a pointless start to the sentence, honestly. He was already walking towards Malfoy, a magnetic pull; he was pretending it was toward the caffeine. A latte. That was all.

"You'll have to pay," Malfoy said nonchalantly to him as he approached and began walking again. "I left my wallet in my other bag."

Harry let the outraged mutter flow out of him. It felt like the first safe noise he'd made around the man in nearly a week.

"Convenient," he replied as the got to the cart. "Large latte, please. And I guess whatever he's having," he added with a grimace.

"Flat white. And a caramel macchiato - oh cut it out, Potter," he added as he noted Harry's face. "We're missing Andrews' printing tutorial. Bribes are going to be necessary."

Harry grumbled, but paid the girl behind the cart who managed to - very, excruciatingly slowly - make them three drinks.

By the time they made it to the B Building, Parvati was walking to them with a look of utter amusement.

"Good job, you two. Andrews is fuming. This is the one class all term you were meant to be on time for. He's waiting in there. Wants to see you."

"Thanks, Patel," Malfoy said breezily, pushing past her.

Harry felt a flare of fury pass through him. Malfoy was truly exhausting. Nothing phased him. He briefly thanked Parvati more sincerely before rushing into the empty classroom as well.

There, he found Philip Andrews smirking, a hand in his sandy blonde hair as he chuckled at Malfoy’s offering. He was trying desperately to stay mad, Harry could see it in his eyebrows, but whatever that fucking charm was that Malfoy managed to find for everyone who wasn't Harry seemed to have already smoothed things over.

"Potter," Andrews barked. "I hear you are the benefactor behind this little bribe? I'd thank you but mostly I'm pissed off that I'm going to have to spend half an hour explaining this damn thing to you two because you're so precious that you couldn't bother making to my class."

"I'm so sorry, Philip," Harry muttered. "I honestly just overslept."

Malfoy smirked at Philip as he took a micro-step closer to him. Harry's anger flared again. "You could make him promise not to do it again, but I feel like that might be pointless."

"You, Mr Malfoy, could do with checking your own email," Philip admonished, though his smile was now broad and he sipped his coffee.

"I know. I do apologise, too."

"Right. Whatever. Get out of here. I'm busy."

Malfoy gave a small salute that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else but somehow managed to be annoying and flirtatious in equal measure on him. He waltzed out the door and Harry smiled sheepishly before following.

"Told you coffee was a good idea," Malfoy said snarkily as the door shut behind them.

And Harry snapped.

"I can't believe you didn't wake me up!" he hissed, moving quickly so that he was able to back Malfoy into the wall a little bit. To his great irritation, Malfoy’s smirk only grew. "Fuck off, you arse! Seriously! I can't afford to fail this class! We aren't all here on daddy's money!"

"Oh relax, Potter. Honestly. Has anyone ever told you you're a tad dramatic?"

"I'm dramatic! You idiot. You missed the class too because neither of us checked our email last night!"

"I already told you. I'm not going to cart your little scholarship around just because…just because…I was ready this morning and you weren't. So I left."

Harry deflated. "What the hell am I doing?" he asked himself. "You can't even say it. A football rivalry and that's enough for you to not even be able to say it."

Malfoy’s eyes snapped from their lazy smirk to one almost approaching concern. He reached forward and caught Harry's t-shirt gently between two fingers. Harry didn't exactly resist.

"You know, Potter, if I'd known three years ago three years ago that missing class was all it would take for you to get me up against a wall, we could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble."

"This isn't a joke, Malfoy. I can't… InI can't afford to…"

"Hey," Malfoy said softly. "Hey, okay. I'm sorry Harry. I'll… I'll wake you up next time."

"Oh, next time, you will you," Harry grumbled, sagging a little into Malfoy’s body. "Next time is a bit presumptuous there, Malfoy."

"Is it?" Malfoy whispered, leaning in close.

Harry caught his mouth in his and sighed. "Definitely presumptuous."

"Well," Malfoy admitted as he pulled back. "You know what they say about assuming."

"I do. That Draco Malfoy is more of an ass than you or me."

"Lucky for you," Draco replied, pulling Harry back into his mouth.

Harry dropped his coffee, leaving a mess in the corridor that he had no hope of cleaning up. One day, his ridiculous decisions were definitely going to catch up to him.

#DRARRY FOR LIFE #drarryruinedme7 #artemissilva #drarry #drarry drabble #muggle au #college au #woah i never write those #it was strange but fun

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rushingheadlong · 4 years ago

Text

Thrill Me, Chill Me, Fulfill Me - a poly!Queen smut fic

Summary: The boys plan an evening of dressing up and watching Rocky Horror Picture Show, but the effort that Brian puts into his outfit takes the others by surprise.

Wordcount:

Tags/Warnings: NSFW/18+, poly!Queen, slight modern AU, D/s (sub!Brian), crossdressing, light feminization, orgasm delay/denial, sex toys

Notes: First part toes the line of smut, second part is just filth. Please heed the tags/warnings and don’t read if this doesn’t seem like your cup of tea. This is also cross-posted to AO3 if you prefer to read it there!

Huge thanks to the DL server for helping me iron out some details, and especially to ehhh and Lee for volunteering as betas ♥

(In case it's not clear enough in the fic: John is dressed as Brad in the laboratory scene, Roger is dressed as Rocky, Freddie is in Magenta's maid outfit, and Brian is wearing a floor show outfit.)

“We were supposed to put some effort into the costumes, John.”

“I did put in effort,” John says mildly. “I bought the lab coat, didn’t I?”

Roger rolls his eyes. “Oh, wow, I’m sorry then, you clearly did so much work for this…”

“Well what about you? You can’t tell me that you didn’t already own these.” John reaches out and snaps the waistband on the obscenely tiny gold shorts that comprise the entirety of Roger’s Rocky costume, since he didn’t bother picking up any gold boots.

“You wanker, I did not already own these!” Roger protests, though he’s laughing as he says it. “Unlike you, who is definitely just wearing your own pants right now!”

“You say that as if you don’t love seeing me in just my pants.”

“Oh, I do,” Roger agrees. He takes a step forward and pushes his hands underneath the lab coat to settle them on the bare skin of John’s waist. “I just like it a little bit more when you’re not doing it because you chose to dress up as the most boring character in-”

John surges forward to crowd Roger against the counter, and captures his lips in a kiss to cut off the rest of his teasing. Roger responds eagerly, pressing against him hungrily and sliding his hands down to cup John’s arse and pull him in closer. John groans and can’t stop himself from rutting up against Roger, who whimpers and rolls his hips against John’s in response.

“And what are you two up to in here, hm? I thought you were supposed to be getting the drinks, not starting the fun without me!” Freddie says as he struts into the room.

Roger pulls away from John to glance over at Freddie. John, however, is less willing to stop what they were doing and instead starts kissing and nipping along Roger’s throat. “We- ah- we are getting drinks,” he says, tilting his head to give John better access.

“Mm, I can see that.” Freddie cups John’s chin and pulls his head around so he can kiss him, quick but fierce, with a small nip to his bottom lip as he pulls away. “And I can see that neither of you put any effort into your costumes like you were supposed to.”

“You’ve definitely done the most so far,” Roger agrees and he finally pushes John back so he can move away from the counter and get a better look at Freddie’s costume.

“That was the point here, wasn’t it? Some light crossdressing while we watch the movie and rile each other up.” He gives both John and Roger a once-over and adds, “Not that you two don’t look delicious, of course…”

“You’re dating us, and we’re half-naked. If you didn’t think we looked good we’d have a problem right now,” John jokes.

Freddie laughs and reaches to pull down a few glasses from the cupboard. His short dress rides up a little, revealing just a small glimpse of the suspenders that he’s wearing underneath, and he smirks as he hears Roger’s quiet, appreciative groan. It’s John, though, who reaches out to touch him and Freddie laughs as he ducks out of his grasp.

“Now, now, save that for later, darling,” he says, though he does press another kiss to the corner of John’s mouth as he grabs the wine that Roger had bought earlier. “Movie first, and then you can strip me out of this and ravish me.”

“At least it’ll be easy enough to get you out of that,” John says. “Though, I am surprised. I thought for sure you would have dressed as Frank-N-Furter.” Roger grabs two of the drinks after Freddie pours them, and John gets the other two, and Freddie follows them into the living room with the rest of the bottle of wine.

“I considered it, but I couldn’t be bothered to spend an evening laced into a corset,” Freddie admits as they settle onto the large sofa. The DVD is already queued up with the main menu on the screen, waiting for them to start the movie just as soon as Brian joins them.

“I’m a little disappointed that none of us opted for corsets though,” Roger says. He settles onto John’s lap, his legs spread out over Freddie, so there’s room for Brian at the far end of the couch. “I mean, I get it, they’re a pain, but I was hoping one of us would be brave enough to wear one.”

“Do you know what Brian’s wearing?” Freddie asks.

Roger shakes his head. “No, but it’s Brian. He’s probably dressed as Riff-Raff, knowing him.”

“Or Eddie,” John says. “Especially since he loves Meatloaf’s music anyway.”

“You’re probably right,” Freddie says with a sigh. “Still, even Riff Raff has his shirt undone so he’ll be showing some skin…”

“No more than he ever shows when we’re performing-”

Roger cuts off the rest of his sentence as the bathroom door opens down the hall. The three of them all turn towards the doorway as Brian approaches - and then their mouths drop open in shock when they see what he’s wearing.

“Brian-” Freddie chokes out, his eyes as wide as saucers as he takes in Brian’s outfit.

Unlike the rest of them, Brian has gone all-out with his costume. He clearly took his inspiration from the floor show scene and is wearing a black front-lacing corset, the tiniest black panties in existence, and delicate fishnet stockings held up with suspenders. He even has matching elbow-length gloves, and black heels on his feet. The bright boa draped around his shoulders completes the look, and he buries his face in the feathers in embarrassment as the others just stare at him.

“Oh, god, I know, I look ridiculous, I knew I should’ve just dressed as Riff Raff…” he mumbles.

“Absolutely not!” Freddie snaps. “Darling, you look- you’re-”

“You’re fucking hot,” Roger finishes for him. He surges to his feet and crosses the room towards Brian.

With the heels on Brian completely towers over him, but Roger still manages to reach up to pull the boa away from Brian’s shoulders and face. Brian catches it in the crook of his elbows and lets it settle against his lower back.

“You even put on makeup,” John groans in appreciation, now that Brian’s face is properly visible.

“I thought that was the point of this…”

“It is. The rest of us are just lazy slackers,” Roger says. He tries to grab onto the laces of the corset to use that to pull Brian down to kiss him, but he can’t quite fit his fingers underneath them. “Fuck, Brian, how tightly did you lace this up?”

“Tight enough,” Brian says with a laugh that’s breathy enough to let them know that he’s not joking about that.

Roger grabs onto Brian’s hips instead, and the moment that he feels the corset his eyes widen even more. He runs his hands along it and says, “Brian, there’s real boning in here!”

“Well, I thought I’d do this properly,” Brian says as he loosely drapes his arms over Roger’s shoulders.

“Yeah? You just wanted a proper costume, is that it?” John says in a low voice. Freddie has shifted next to him on the couch, now pressed close against his side, and one of John’s hands is teasing along the side of Freddie’s thigh as they both stare at Brian with hungry eyes.

Brian nods, biting his bottom lip and squirming a little underneath Roger’s hands.

“Because I think you really just wanted an excuse to be a bit of a naughty girl for us,” John continues, and Brian whimpers at his words. “I think you wanted to put on those stockings and lace yourself up in that corset so tightly you could barely breathe and tease us until we gave you exactly what you’re aching for. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah,” Brian breathes. His eyes are dark with arousal and his tiny panties do very little to hide his rapidly hardening cock. John raises an eyebrow at him and Brian swallows harshly and corrects himself. “Yes sir.”

“Freddie, what were you saying about having to wait until the movie was over before we could have any fun?” Roger says, glancing back over his shoulder. “‘cause I’ll be honest, I can’t wait that long, not with our baby girl looking like this.”

“Sirs, I- I don’t-” Brian stammers, looking away from them as he struggles to voice his thoughts.

“Yes, Brian? What don’t you want?” Freddie asks. He’s draped himself over John and has been mouthing at the column of his neck, but he pulls away now to look properly at Brian. “Come on, darling, use your words.”

There’s a flush high on Brian’s face and he whines low in his throat, but just manages to force out, “I don’t want to come yet. Sirs.”

“Who said anything about you coming?” John says without hesitation and Brian moans outright at that. “Roger, bring him over here. I want you on your knees, Brian.”

Roger, still with his hands on Brian’s waist, walks backwards to lead him over to the couch, stopping a few feet away and gently coaxing Brian down. It takes Brian a moment to drop to his knees without tripping over the heels, and once he’s in place it’s clear how much the corset is holding him in place. His back is ramrod straight, and his breathing is harsh and loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“God, aren’t you a sight…” Freddie purrs as he stands up. Brian looks up at him through his lashes, but Freddie tangles a hand in his hair and gently tugs Brian’s head back so he’s forced to meet his gaze. “Our beautiful girl, just waiting to be used…”

Freddie smirks and looks back at John and Roger. “So, who wants to go first?”

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

Brian puts up no resistance as Roger pulls him up from his knees and drapes him over the arm of the couch. His arms are already bound loosely behind his back with the boa he had been wearing, but Roger now pulls it away and says, “I’m going to get some cuffs for your wrists instead. And…” He slides one hand down and palms Brian’s arse. “...a plug, I think.”

“Get the larger one,” John tells him. “Brian can take it.”

Brian moans brokenly and the other three chuckle at his desperation.

“Should probably get a cock ring too, if he’s already this worked up,” Freddie adds. He tangles one hand in Brian’s curls and pulls his head up. “Don’t you agree, Brimi?”

“What’s the run time for the movie?” Roger asks John over their head, as Brian whines and squirms in Freddie’s grasp.

“Just over an hour and a half,” John tells him. Too long for them to put the cock ring on Brian right from the start, then. “But grab one of the adjustable rings anyway, so we don’t have to get up later if we need it.” Roger nods, and hurries off to their bedroom.

Freddie, meanwhile, is still focused on Brian. “Mm, someone got a little messy during those blowjobs,” he teases. “Look at you, darling, your lipstick is all smeared. And…” Freddie drags his finger through a stray bit of come at the corner of Brian’s mouth and licks it clean, smirking as both Brian and John groan. “Seems like we might have been a bit too much for our girl to handle.”

Brian makes a small noise of protest and shakes his head. “No, sir. Never.”

“Aw, it’s alright, love. You still did so well for us.” Freddie kisses him and when he pulls back it’s easy to see how Brian’s eyes have started to glaze over as he falls deeper into his role in the scene. Freddie lets go of Brian’s hair and Brian lets his head hang forward again, though with the corset on he can’t really properly relax against the arm of the couch.

“Brian,” John says, and it’s only once Brian manages to lift his head again and looks at him that he asks, “What’s your safeword, baby?” They went over this once already, before they had used his mouth, but it never hurts to double-check and make sure that Brian can still remember them.

Brian licks his lips and after a moment he says, “Red to stop. Green to continue. Yellow to slow down.”

John leans past Freddie to give Brian a quick kiss. “Good girl. You aren’t going to come until the movie is over so use your safewords if it becomes too much, alright?”

Brian nods. “I will, sir.”

“Good,” John tells him again, as Roger returns to the living room.

“So, John, it’s a good thing you told me to get the larger plug,” he says casually as he sets everything he brought carefully along the back on the couch. “Because as it turns out, I couldn’t find the smaller one at all.” He grabs Brian’s arse and gives it a squeeze and asks, “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Brian?”

“Oh, fuck,” Freddie groans when he realizes what Roger is hinting at.

Roger already has Brian’s panties pulled down past the curve of his arse, just far enough that he can pull out the plug that Brian slipped in when he was getting ready earlier. Just because it’s their smaller one doesn’t make it small, and Roger is able to sink two slick fingers inside him with ease.

“Yeah, someone was a little naughty earlier, weren’t you?” Roger scissors his fingers and fucks Brian a little bit more to get him ready for the larger toy, and Broan moans and clenches down around him.

“Roger, hurry up, give our girl what she needs,” John says.

Brian goes a little tense at John’s words and he squirms underneath Roger’s touch, though from slight discomfort this time, not arousal. Freddie notices and he watches him with a careful eye as Roger pulls out his fingers and slicks up the new plug, and says, “What, you think I’m going to accidentally make her come too soon?”

Brian makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat, a sharp change from his wanton moaning just a moment before, and his face twists up in an unpleasant expression. John and Roger, from their positions, can’t see that - but Freddie can, and he’s quick to say, “Rog, wait.”

Roger freezes immediately and Freddie gently lifts Brian’s chin to study him carefully. “Brian, what’s your color?”

Brian whines and tries to hide his face, and John and Roger share a silent look of alarm. They know that Brian only gets like this - uncomfortable, and embarrassed to admit it - when they’ve crossed a line and Brian is just far enough in subspace that he thinks he can power through it instead of speaking up. That’s why it helps to have three people to handle him, so at least one of them can catch when he gets in this headspace and nip it in the bud.

Freddie won’t let Brian turn away, though, and after a moment he admits, “Yellow. I- I don’t want to be called “she” anymore tonight, I think.”

“Okay. Is “girl” still alright or do you want us to stop that too?” John asks. They had been calling him both “girl” and “she” while they fucked his face earlier, but that’s how these scenes go sometimes; what works in one moment doesn’t always work later on, and that’s why checking in like this is always so important.

Brian shakes his head. “No, that’s fine. Just not the other.”

The others quickly voice their understanding and Roger presses a kiss to the back of Brian’s neck. “Sorry, Brian,” he apologizes.

“‘s alright,” Brian says. If anything, this momentary detour in this scene only helps Brian sink under a little bit more, safe with the knowledge that his doms will be there for him even if Brian loses sight of his own needs. “Now, can we just…?” He wiggles his arse and Roger laughs.

“Yeah. Yeah, I got you,” Roger says. He runs one hand soothingly up Brian’s back, and then slowly starts to work the new plug in. Brian whimpers at the feeling of it stretching him, and he gasps as it’s finally seated fully inside him. Roger pulls his panties back up and spanks him once and Brian moans at the unexpected sting of pain.

“There,” Roger says as he pulls Brian back upright. “That should just about do it, I think. Unless…” He settles his hands on Brian’s waist, stroking his thumbs over the fabric of the corset, and raises an eyebrow at John and Freddie. “Don’t you think our girl would look gorgeous if this was taken in a little bit tighter?”

“Oh, he would,” John agrees without hesitation. “But I did just tell you how long the movie is, so let’s shelve that idea for now, alright?”

“No, please-” Brian tries to beg, but John is quick to cut him off.

“If you wanted that corset even tighter than it already is, you should have done that when you were getting dressed,” John says sternly. “It’s not your decision anymore, understand?”

Brian whines unhappily but he nods and says, “Yes, sir.”

“There is one more thing, though,” Freddie says as he grabs the fleece-lined cuffs that Roger brought out as well. He secures them around Brian’s wrists and double-checks that they aren’t too tight, and then asks Roger and John, “In front of him or behind?”

“In front,” John says. “I don’t want his arms behind him for that long.”

Freddie nods and clips the cuffs together in front of Brian. “There. Now he’s all set.”

Roger gently steers Brian around to the front of the couch and asks, “Where do you want him, then?”

“In the middle,” John says.

“What’s the middle of four people?”

“Right here,” Freddie says as he pulls Brian down so he’s sitting between him and John. With the corset on he’s forced to maintain a strict posture; every time he slouches, the corset digs into him painfully and his breathing becomes just a bit shallower, the tiniest bit more strained.

Roger pouts as he takes the only remaining seat on the other side of Freddie, and Freddie leans over and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll make sure to keep you entertained during the movie too,” he promises.

“Speaking of which,” John says as he curls one hand possessively around Brian’s thigh, his fingers brushing dangerously close to where Brian’s hard dick is straining at his panties. “Are we ready to start watching this?”

“Please,” Brian says, nearly begging, and John chuckles as he presses play to start the DVD.

The opening notes of Science Fiction, Double Feature have barely started playing before Freddie settles a hand on Brian’s other thigh. Brian inhales sharply but neither John nor Freddie seem in a rush to do more than that at the moment. They don’t need to do anything else right now, though; just the promise of more to come has Brian squirming in anticipation - at least, as much as he’s able to while he’s laced into the corset. He whimpers as the thick plug nestled inside him is jostled and he tries to subtly grind down against it, desperate for even the tiniest bit of stimulation, but John tightens his grip on Brian’s thigh and he reluctantly settles back down.

This isn’t the first time that the four of them have watched this movie together and normally they’d be singing along and shouting the audience responses at the telly. Freddie is still humming bits of the songs under his breath but, for the most part, none of them want to break the mood of the scene too much.

John and Freddie keep stroking at Brian’s thighs, not touching his cock but getting just close enough to keep him on edge. Roger, meanwhile, is leaning against Freddie with one arm stretched along the back of the couch. He’s playing with Brian’s hair, petting along his bare shoulders, tickling his fingers along the edge of Brian’s corset… any part of Brian that he can reach, he seems determined to touch and explore.

“I would like, if I may, to take you on a strange journey.”

John snaps one of Brian’s suspenders against his thigh, just to make him jump. He does and he whimpers a little too, and says, “Sirs, please…”

“It’s way too earlier for you to be begging, baby girl,” Roger says. “You’re going to ruin the movie.”

“Should’ve gotten a gag if you wanted him to be quiet,” John says.

“Nah, he can be good.” Roger scratches at Brian’s scalp and asks, “Isn’t that right, Bri? You can be good for us, can’t you?”

Brian nods quickly. “Yes sir, I’ll be go- oh.” The rest of his sentence is cut off in a loud moan as Freddie chooses that moment to finally settle his hand over Brian’s cock. Brian instinctively tries to buck his hips up into the touch but Freddie pulls away when he does and Brian whines, desperate, and says, “Sir, pl-” before he remembers, and falls quiet.

“Oh, that’s just mean,” John says with a low chuckle.

“Well, I don’t want to make it too easy on him,” Freddie says with a wicked grin. He grabs Brian’s chin and pulls his head around towards him and adds, “Besides, I know he can handle it,” before kissing Brian deeply.

Roger groans quietly at the sight of Freddie licking into Brian’s mouth, absolutely devouring every inch of him, as in the background Janet and Brad sing about the light over at the Frankenstein place.

Their teasing only ramps up from there. Freddie moves to suck dark bruises along Brian’s throat when Roger drags John to his feet to dance the Time Warp (because Roger refuses to watch Rocky Horror without dancing along with this song, no matter what else is going on).

“Should’ve had you get up and do the Time Warp with Roger instead, make you put on a little show for us…” Freddie purrs in Brian’s ear. “What I wouldn’t give to watch you try to dance in this tight corset. Bet you’d be just gasping for breath by the end of it, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes sir,” Brian breathes, because honestly he’s nearly gasping now just sitting here. He cinched the corset in as much as he was able to and it restricts his breathing more than he was expecting. He has to breathe carefully, almost shallowly, and that’s easier said than done when he’s nearly dizzy with arousal.

“God, that’d be a sight to see.” John grips Brian’s curls and forces his head back and Brian stares up at him, panting and flushed from his cheeks down across the top of his chest. “Especially with that fat plug holding you nice and open for us right now.”

Brian moans and John leans down to kiss him roughly, swallowing down the sound. And when the song ends Roger settles onto Brian’s lap to take his turn making out with him while grinding down against him and making the plug shift deliciously inside him - at least until Brian pants, “Close, ‘m close,” in warning and Roger slides gracefully off and turns his attention to Freddie instead.

They give him a break during Hot Patootie, Brian’s favorite part of the movie, but John lazily plucks at Brian’s nipples during the brief lull between songs that follows, pinching and pulling and twisting gently at them until they’re sore and Brian can’t hold back the quiet noises of pained-pleasure at every touch against the sensitive buds. And when Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me starts up in earnest all three of them are on him, petting over his bare skin and biting along his jawline and palming his cock through panties that are damp and sticky with precome.

They all back off again once the song ends and Brian immediately whines at the loss of contact. There are tears pricking at the corner of his eyes and he’s trying so hard to be good, but he’s overstimulated and desperate and quickly losing whatever tenuous control he’s been holding onto so far. The tight corset leaves him breathless and sharpens his arousal, makes it impossible to ignore - not that he could ignore it anyway, not with the way that the plug is filling him up and putting pressure on his prostate every time he moves.

“S-sirs,” he says and he whines again, not wanting to say please but needing something, anything from his partners right now.

“Shh, you’re doing so good for us, baby girl, you’re doing so good,” John praises him as he brushes Brian’s air out of his face and presses a chaste kiss to his temple. “What’s your color, Bri?”

Brian tries to take a deep breath only to be stopped by the corset. He whimpers and pants a little and it takes him a moment to get his breathing back under control, but when he does he finally says, “Green.”

“Good girl,” John says, a sentiment that’s immediately echoed by Freddie and Roger.

They’re all toeing a close line. One wrong touch, a little too much stimulation, and Brian is going come no matter how hard he tries to stop it - but none of them can keep their hands off him now.

“I think it’s just about time for this,” Roger says as he grabs the cock ring and kneels down in front of Brian. Brian moans at the sight of Roger between his legs, and John and Freddie have to hold him still as Roger pulls Brian’s cock out of his panties and fits the adjustable strap around the base of his cock and balls.

“There, that should do it,” he says as he double-checks the fit. He glances up at Brian and asks, “Not too tight?”

“Or too loose?” Freddie adds.

Brian shakes his head. “No, sirs.”

“Good,” Roger says - and then he licks a stripe up Brian’s cock, from the base to the tip. Brian shouts and tries to buck up into Roger’s mouth but Freddie and John won’t let him. The attempt still shifts the plug inside him and Brian moans and pulls against his partners’ hands, and with one last flick of his tongue over Brian’s slit Roger pulls away with a smug smile. He stands up and cards a hand through Brian’s hair, tilting his head back so he’s looking up at him. “Still feeling alright?” Roger asks, teasing.

Brian stares at him with eyes blown wide with desperate lust and he licks his lips and says, “Green.”

Roger hadn’t quite meant his question to be another check-in, but given how far under Brian is by now it never hurts to hear that he’s still an enthusiastic participant in what’s going on, so he kisses Brian on the forehead and says again, “Good girl.”

“Mm, and look at this, your pretty little cock is right here for us to tease now,” John says as he oh-so-lightly brushes the tip of one finger down Brian’s shaft. Brian cries out and grabs at John’s wrist with his bound hands, trying to make him touch him more than that.

Freddie spanks the inside of Brian’s thigh, hard, and Brian cries out again. “None of that now, dearie,” he says as John pulls Brian’s hands away from his. “You were being so good for us, don’t start misbehaving now.”

“I’m sorry, sirs, I’m just-” Brian cuts off with a moan as John gives his cock one slow, firm stroke before letting go again.

“Behave,” John says sternly, and he lands a slap on Brian’s other thigh, just because he can.

“If you two aren’t careful, he’s going to come through that cock ring before we’re done with him,” Roger warns.

“He’s not allowed to come. I want to ride him before the end of the night,” Freddie says, and Brian groans at the prospect.

John laughs and says, “I don’t think he’s going to be able to handle that, Freddie. Or do you not see how quickly he’s falling to pieces?”

“I can handle it, sirs, I can, I promise I can,” Brian says, so eager to be good for them that he’ll agree to almost anything right now if it means pleasing them - and having them keep touching him, of course.

“We’ll talk about that when the movie is over.” John kisses his temple and adds, “Now, hush. The floor show is starting.”

Brian bites his lip but nods, and he tries valiantly to pay attention to the movie as Columbia unfreezes and starts her short solo.

“It was great when it all began. I was a regular Frankie fan…”

The floor show may be starting but it’s clear that John, Freddie, and Roger have no intention of watching it. Roger has moved off the couch completely and is standing behind Brian now, playing with his still-sore nipples and kissing the side of Brian’s neck that Freddie hasn’t already marked up. John and Freddie, for their part, are seemingly doing everything in their power to make Brian unravel completely. Freddie is alternating between rolling Brian’s balls between his clever fingers and teasing at his cock with touches that are just too light to tip him over that edge, while John is pinching and scratching at Brian’s tender inner thighs, the pain a delicious contrast to the pleasure that Freddie is inflicting on him.

Brian is trembling constantly now, and the shaking only makes the stretch of the plug inside him that much more noticeable, every slight shift of it harder to ignore. Brian’s eyes are squeezed shut and his lashes are damp with tears. He’s panting and moaning and whining, unable to stay quiet now even if he wanted to while the corset continues to steal his breath away, the restriction against his chest only ratcheting his arousal up even higher. He keeps choking out half-formed sentences, Sirs and Oh god falling from his lips - at least until Roger slides two fingers into his mouth and Brian is reduced to wordless groans as he flicks his tongue over the digits.

“Yeah, just like that, baby girl, you love having your mouth filled, don’t you?” Roger growls in his ear and Brian nods, and closes his lips around Roger’s fingers to suck on them.

“Fuck,” John groans. “Rog, that’s just making me want to have our girl to suck me off again.”

Roger laughs and pulls his fingers out of Brian’s mouth with a small pop. He wipes them off on Brian’s cheek, ignoring his disappointed whine and the way he keeps his mouth open as if hoping it’ll be filled again. “He sucked you off before the movie started. That wasn’t enough for you?”

“Not when his mouth feels that good,” John says as he pushes Brian’s mouth closed and kisses him briefly.

“On the subject of his mouth, and his cock…” Freddie drags his fingers through the precome beading at the tip of Brian’s cock, and smirks at the strangled moan from Brian. “Our dear Frank-N-Furter is about to be killed, so we do have to consider what we’re doing with him next.” He smears his fingers over Brian’s lips, and laughs lightly as Brian’s tongue darts out to taste his own precome. “I think our sweet girl has been good enough to come, what do you say?”

“Yeah, I think he deserves it,” John agrees. “Pretty sure he’s going to come the second we get that cock ring off anyway, whether we give him permission or not. The only question is, which one of us is going to fuck him?”

Brian wants them all to fuck him, wants to be taken fast and rough by the three of them in turn until he’s filled with come and utterly used and ruined - but his boyfriends know that won’t end well if they try to do that. Brian is so far past desperate that they know that there’s a risk of him dropping hard, the kind of subdrop that takes hours of gentle aftercare to pull him out of because his system always struggles to regulate itself after the sort of endorphin release that’s in store for him after a scene like this. They never want to put him through that, not if they can help it.

So John, Roger, and Freddie have a quiet conversation about their plans behind Brian’s back. Freddie keeps gently tickling and teasing at Brian’s cock, keeping him just distracted enough that he doesn’t realize that decisions are being made without him noticing, while on the screen Brad and Janet start singing their final lament in the dirt outside as the mansion rockets into space.

“Alright, baby girl, this is what’s going to happen,” Roger says just as the reprise of Science Fiction Double Feature starts playing. Freddie lets go of Brian’s dick so he can pay attention to what Roger is saying, but Brian whimpers and bucks his hips up and tries to grab Freddie to bring his hand back to his cock.

John pins Brian’s hands against his chest and says, “None of that now, Brian. Can you give me a color, please?”

Brian looks at him with wide, watery eyes. He’s breathing as heavily as he can in his corset and he’s so far in subspace that it’s almost alarming. John is about to safeword on his behalf when Brian says, clearly, “Green, sir.”

“Alright,” John says. “Take a breath and listen to Roger, this is important.”

Brian nods and tries to turn to look at Roger, but he can’t twist that far around in the corset and Brian whines quietly in frustration. Roger quickly walks around to the front of the couch instead and stands in front of Brian, petting his hair gently as Brian looks up at him with eyes that are the slightest bit clearer than they were a moment before, thank god for that.

“John is going to fuck Freddie, and I’m going to fuck you,” Roger tells him. Brian opens his mouth, probably to insist that he can take all three of them, but Roger is quick to add, “You’ve been so good for us so far that we don’t want to make you wait too much longer to come, alright?”

Brian nods eagerly at that. Roger laughs softly and kisses the top of his head. “They’re going to go into the bedroom first, since somebody-” He glances over at Freddie. “-needs a little bit of time to get prepped. And I want a moment alone with you, since those two have already had their hands on you all night.”

Technically Roger has had his hands on Brian as well, but they need to put a little bit of a break into their play. They all know exactly what Freddie looks and sounds like the moment he gets anything inside him, after all, and they’ve basically been edging Brian since the start of the movie. If they want to have any hope of Brian holding out long enough to actually be fucked then it’s for the best if John gets most of the prep out of the way before Roger brings Brian in.

John doesn’t waste any time in pulling Freddie out of the room, though with the way Freddie starts moaning shortly after there’s no hiding what the two of them are up to in the bedroom. Brian whimpers at the sounds drifting down the hall and looks up at Roger with pleading eyes.

“I’ve got you, Brimi, don’t you worry,” Roger promises.

He starts with undoing the cuffs around Brian’s wrists and pulling down the fingerless gloves. He dutifully checks Brian’s circulation and for bruises, and even though there clearly aren’t any he still kisses the inside of each of Brian’s wrists when he’s done. The heels come off next; why Brian is still wearing them when he’s been sitting down all this time, Roger honestly has no idea, but it just takes a gentle nudge for Brian to toe them off. Roger moves them aside and pulls Brian up to his feet, and Brian sways and whimpers as the plug inside him shifts at the movement.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about that plug,” Roger teases. He unclips the suspenders from Brian’s stockings and pulls both the belt and panties down so Brian can step out of everything.

“No, sir, ‘s too big to forget about,” Brian admits as Roger kneels in front of him to roll down his stockings and pull them off, one at a time, with Brian holding onto his shoulder for balance. Roger can’t resist licking up the length of Brian’s cock again and reaching behind him to toy with the base of the plug, and Brian cries out loudly, gripping onto him tighter as he doubles over at the sudden burst of pleasure.

And from the bedroom comes another loud, answering moan from Freddie.

Roger stands back up, even though Brian whines and tries to push him back down. Roger lets the moment of brattiness slide, because despite coming down Brian’s throat less than two hours ago he’s hard and aching in his now too-tight gold shorts and he doesn’t have the patience to punish Brian for his desperation now. All he has to do is get the corset off and then, hopefully, John will have Freddie prepped, and the four of them can finally fall into bed together and put an end to the game that feels like it’s been going on for half the evening now.

Luckily there’s a zipper running down the side of Brian’s corset, which Freddie would no doubt take offense at because it’s probably not screen-accurate - but then again, his Magenta costume leans a little bit too much towards “sexy maid” itself so Roger doesn’t think he would really have a leg to stand on in that conversation. There are red marks along Brian’s torso from how tight he cinched up the corset when got dressed and he takes a deep, gasping breath as Roger pulls it away and sets it on the couch (carefully, since he knows they’ll want to revisit that particular item of clothing again later).

Roger runs his hands along those reddened indentations now, feeling the way that Brian trembles under his gentle touch. “And to think,” he murmurs, “you had wanted us to make this even tighter on you.” His eyes flick up to meet Brian’s and he smirks, and adds, “You really are just a fucking masochist, aren’t you? No, that’s not quite it…”

He snakes a hand up to Brian’s throat, not pressing down, but even the threat of being choked has Brian’s eyes going wide and his pulse fluttering rapidly under Roger’s hand. “You just like not being able to breathe, don’t you?”

“Sir…” Brian breathes, the single word carrying an unspoken plea for more - a plea that Brian won’t voice because he was told earlier not to beg and he’s trying so fucking hard to be good.

Roger lets go of Brian’s throat and grabs his face to pull him down into a searing kiss. “C’mon. Bedroom, now.”

Freddie’s moaning has died down a little, but as Roger drags Brian down towards the bedroom they start to hear his quieter groans and whimpers. And when they stumble into the room they can see that John has Freddie facedown on the bed, with his arse in the air. John has stripped out of his pants and lab coat but Freddie is still in his maid’s costume, the skirt flipped up over his back so John can work him open.

“Took you long enough,” John says with a bit of a wild grin. He has three fingers buried deep in Freddie and he twists them, wrenching an open, gasping groan from Freddie.

“Yeah, well, looks like you made good use of the time,” Roger says. “Didn’t want to bother undressing him, I take it?”

“Nah. He looks too good in a dress, doesn’t he?”

“Mm, you know, he really does,” Roger agrees, and Freddie whimpers a little at the compliment. Roger pushes Brian forward and says to him, “Up on the bed, pretty girl, next to Freddie and on your back.”

Brian clambers up onto the bed and Freddie reaches out for him immediately, instinctively, as John pulls his fingers out of him. Roger shimmies out of his shorts and snags the lube that was on the bed while John grabs condoms for them both, and a few moments later the two of them are making out sloppily while they stroke each other’s cocks, slicking them up as quickly as they can.

“You ready?” John murmurs against Roger’s mouth.

“Yeah,” Roger says, with a wide grin. “Let’s do this.”

“Fucking finally,” Freddie growls, wiggling his arse.

He gasps when John smacks it and grabs his hips tightly. “None of that now, Fred. You’ll take what I give you.”

Freddie laughs at that and cranes his neck around so he can look at John. “I’m not subbing for you tonight, Deaky. I don’t have to follow orders.”

“True,” John agrees as he holds Freddie open and grinds against his hole, not pushing in yet but just teasing at his rim. “But don’t pretend that you don’t love it when we get bossy with you.”

“Then you don’t pretend that you don’t love when I get bratty- oh.” Freddie buries his head in his arms again and moans as John enters him with one slow, deep thrust.

Roger, meanwhile, is kneeling between Brian’s legs and is working the plug out of him, as Brian gasps and squirms beneath him. “They’re ridiculous, aren’t they?” he says casually as he slips two fingers into Brian to make sure he’s open and still slick enough to take him.

“S-sir,” Brian whines.

“Yeah, alright, alright, I’ve got you,” Roger says with a quiet chuckle as he lines the head of his cock up at Brian’s entrance and slowly starts to push inside.

He’s so open from the plug that Roger almost sinks into him to the hilt on the first thrust. Brian cries out and wraps his legs around Roger, trying to coax him in deeper, his hands grasping at the sheets at his side. Next to him Freddie is groaning and gasping, dragging his face against the bed, and rocking back against every one of John’s rough thrusts into him.

Roger leans down to kiss Brian when he’s buried fully inside him and tells him, “You can beg and be as noisy as you want now, but no coming until the cock ring is off, understand?”

“Yes sir.” Roger grinds up into him and Brian throws his head back and moans. “Oh, god, sir, please-”

“Color, Brian?”

“Green, green, please sir, please just fuck me!”

So Roger does, because with Brian begging beneath him and Freddie and John fucking next to him he knows that he isn’t going to last long. None of them are, really. Freddie is nearly wordless with pleasure as he moves just enough to kiss Brian, panting and licking into his mouth as John fucks him hard and fast, groaning praises at him and digging his fingers into Freddie’s hips with every thrust. There are tears in the corners of Brian’s eyes again and the noises that are punched out of him are filthy and sinful, and Roger can’t stop running his mouth, “So good for us, baby girl, so fucking good” and “Feel amazing, Brian, you’re fucking perfect” slipping out in a constant stream.

Freddie is the first one to moan, “Gonna come, gonna fucking come,” and John reaches down to quickly jerk him off as he keeps pounding into him.

Roger fumbles for the cock ring around Brian’s cock. He knows that once Freddie comes Brian is liable to go off as well, even with the ring on, and none of them want Brian to feel like he failed them by accidentally disobeying Roger’s order at this point in the evening.

He gets the ring off just as John growls, “Yeah, that’s it Fred, c’mon, wanna feel you come for us, show us how good it fucking feels.” And a few moments later Freddie does fall over that edge with a shout, spilling into John’s hand and tightening around him as John’s thrusts become a little more erratic, his own orgasm quickly building now.

“Touch yourself, Brian, be a good girl and come for me now, wanna see you come,” Roger pants because he’s almost there too but he wants Brian to come first, he needs Brian to come first, he needs to make sure their baby girl is taken care of before he loses the last shred of his control.

But Brian is too far gone to follow this last order. His eyes are blown wide with lust, so dark that the hazel of his irises has almost entirely disappeared, and if he even hears Roger he shows no signs of it as he moans and keeps his hands fisted in the sheets.

As it turns out, though, that doesn’t matter. John comes with a low groan, his hips stuttering into Freddie, and then without a single touch to his cock Brian’s orgasm slams into him, come splattering over his stomach as he cries out and writhes beneath Roger.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck-” Roger chants, the only thing he can get out before his climax washes over him and John pulls him into a rough kiss and Freddie somehow gets a hand on Brian to stroke him through the last aftershocks of his orgasm.

Freddie is, somehow, the first to move. Maybe it’s because he was the first to come, and therefore the first to come back to his senses, but once John pulls out and flops down on the bed next to him Freddie rolls over and, after a few moments, he pushes himself upright with a small groan. He staggers out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. He returns a few minutes later, now finally naked and cleaned up and carrying a damp washcloth for Brian. Roger has pulled out of Brian by now and disposed of the condoms and John is starting to get his bearings back as well.

Brian, however, is a completely different story. He’s still blissed out and only slowly coming back to himself, reaching for his boyfriends with shaking and uncoordinated hands, and whining unhappily as Freddie drags the washcloth over his stomach and too-sensitive cock and John grabs a wipe from their

All of them try to stay in contact with him while they get him cleaned up. John sits up against the headboard and gently moves Brian so his head in resting in his lap. John pets his hair, murmuring praises down at him, telling him that he did so well for them tonight, he’s such a good boy for letting them play with him like this (because they never call Brian their “girl” once the scene ends; that’s a hard line of his, and they always respect it). Freddie, once he’s done with the washcloth, curls up against Brian’s side, pressed as close as he can get so Brian can feel that he’s not alone as he starts to come down.

While they’re handling Brian, Roger ducks into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of the sports drink and a few of the granola bars that they keep on hand for moments like this. Between the four of them they polish off the drink, though it takes a little bit of effort to coax Brian upright enough so he doesn’t choke on it and he doesn’t manage to eat more than half of a granola bar before he hands it back to Roger and flops back down on the bed.

And that’s their cue to lie down next to him. Freddie is next to him in the middle, because he might not have subbed but no one is going to deny him that little extra bit of care after the rough - but very much welcome - fucking from John. Roger presses up against his back, and John slides out from underneath Brian to settle in on his other side, his hand thrown across Brian and Freddie and almost reaching over to Roger. Roger laces their fingers together and smiles at him over their boyfriends’ heads, before kissing the back of Freddie’s neck.

“Feeling alright?” he asks the room at large.

“Mm, feeling wonderful,” Freddie murmurs. He has his face buried in the crook of Brian’s neck and the words are almost entirely lost in Brian’s hair, but manages to make himself heard anyway.

“Tired. But good,” John agrees. “Though, we might have to actually watch the movie again on another night.”

Roger chuckles. “Yeah, probably. Without costumes next time, though.”

“Or we need to take a page out of Brian’s book and embrace the costumes a little bit more,” John says.

“Speaking of Brian, how is he?” Roger asks. He starts to sit up a little to see for himself, but Freddie reaches one arm behind him and pushes Roger back down.

“Already asleep,” Freddie says. “We really wore him out tonight, poor dear.” And sure enough Brian’s soft, even breathing can be heard drifting up from the middle of their tangle of limbs and blankets.

“I think he has the right idea there,” John says around a yawn, and Roger and Freddie murmur their agreement. They’re all worn out, after an evening like that, and one by one the rest of them drift off to sleep as well.

#queen band fic #poly!queen #poly!queen fic #queen band smut #my fic #happy Halloween have some p*rn lmfao

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taronfanfic · 5 years ago

Text

Blue

A/N: This may have got slightly out of hand ;)

The neon blue glow of the Troubadour sign illuminated your bare feet as you padded identical laps around the living and kitchen space of Taron’s flat. It was almost 3am on a Sunday morning and the London streets below were completely empty. You weren’t sure what felt weirder: seeing no one out in the park during the day or hearing no drunken cries of joy, loud music and laughter as people returned home from their wild nights out. Lockdown was eery.

“Babe, come to bed.” Taron whined from the bedroom. In the first 10 days he was happy to sleep, catching up on all his missed hours from the last 5 years spent building his career, but the longer this went on the more restless he became. The home gym sessions were never appealing, so once the novelty had worn off neither of you could motivate each other to move far from the sofa or the bed and so it was inevitable for your body clocks to shift further and further forward.

“You look like a right nutter doing laps like that.” He commented with a slight giggle.

“Says the one lurking in the shadows wearing only his boxers.”

“At least they’re mine!” You stopped pacing and looked down your body at Taron’s t-shirt, something you’d quickly claimed as your own as soon as you moved in. It didn’t even cover your bum, but you never heard Taron complaining when you spent your lazy Sunday’s wearing only it and your knickers.

“Fair.” You laughed back to him before continuing your loop close to the balcony, around the front of the sofa and over to where Taron was now leaning against the wall. He reached out for your hand as you approached him and pulled you in against his body.

“Come back to bed.” A soft kiss was left to your cheek.

“I would, but I’m not tired. I wish I was tired. I can’t stand lying awake in bed though.” It was hard not to moan and sigh when you could feel your mood dropping with each passing day.

“We’ll watch something then.”

“I’m bored of that too, I just want to… do something fun.”

“Let off some steam?” He sympathised as he pushed your hair back from your face and drew you in for a tighter hug.

“Yeah.”

“Something energetic, work up a sweat… together. Where you can let loose and scream if it’s what your heart desires?”

“God, that would be nice.”

“Leave it to me.” Taron whispered in your ear seductively before lowering his lips to your neck and leaving a lengthy strong kiss. He guided you around and backed you up against the wall, holding you there for a while as he looked straight into your eyes and waited for you to make a move.

“What are you thinking?” You reached up to touch his neck and face, but your wrist was quickly pinned up above your head.

“We have so much time. What do you want to try?”

“This is, this is pretty hot.” You stumbled over your words as Taron’s fingers delved beneath the elastic of your knickers now your t-shirt had ridden up. He slid two between your folds and curled them around until he met your slickness and dragged it back up to your clit so he could start to tease you. “I feel like I really need to scream though, so maybe we go rough?”

“Biting? Spanking? Fucking so hard that you can’t get out of bed tomorrow?”

“Yes.” You moaned as Taron’s teeth took a grip at the neck of your t-shirt and tugged it to the side so he could get to the skin of your shoulder and graze it. “Hurt me.” A rumbling growl vibrated from Taron’s throat as he pushed his body into yours and then started to kiss you. It was messy and passionate; your mouths lingering open and waiting to feel each other as you both started to crave more. Taron withdrew his fingers from your underwear and slid them straight under your t-shirt so he could take hold of your breast and squeeze it. He was making your knees weak, your core wet and your heart race. As you took his lower lip between your teeth you wondered why you’d not spent more of this lockdown having sex. Fuck the blankets and movies when you’ve got the most passionate lover on tap. He was so turned on right now; you feel it straining against the soft cotton of his boxers.

“We need a safe word.” Taron locked on to your eyes as he paused your kiss and started to lift your t-shirt from your hips. You let him undress you, watching him drop the item to the floor before you placed your hands to his chest and walked him back to the opposite wall.

“Like what?”

“Something you wouldn’t normally say.” You noticed his eyes scanning around the room for objects but stopped him before he got too distracted. The neon colour which illuminated the usually white walls was perfect.

“Blue.” You placed one hand to his cheek as you kissed him deeply and cupped his balls with the other.

“Blue.” He whispered his agreement back and then opened his eyes. They had a new darkness to them, the lust clear as day. “No holding back. If you want it, say it.”

“Spank me.” You replied immediately and Taron started to shake his head slowly in delight.

“Bend the fuck over.”

A playful giggle erupted in you as you stepped away from Taron and lay your top half over the end of the sofa, leaving your arse high in the air and waiting for him. His fingertips felt cold against your skin as he pushed your underwear in to the centre of your bum and revealed more of your peachy flesh. The nerves of what was to come were bubbling away inside you, adding to your pooling excitement.

“Don’t tell me when.” You requested as you reached out for a cushion and placed it beneath your head ready to muffle your cries into.

“No? You just want me to go for it?”

“Yeah, surprise me-fuuuuck.” You felt the sharp pain of Taron’s teeth biting your bum harshly and you couldn’t suppress the anger that fired up your senses. “Fuck off! That was not spanking.” Your head shot round sharply to glare at him just as you saw his raised hand speeding down to slap your already bitten skin.

“Shit!” You hissed this time as you jolted with the stinging pain. “YES!”

“I needed something to aim for.” Taron explained as he caressed your opposite cheek softly. A second and third hit came closer together and you found yourself breathing heavily and moaning into the cushion below as your core throbbed for more.

“Again.” You growled and received three more spanks, the last being the hardest of them all. “Fucking hell!... I want revenge.” You sighed as you felt more riled up than you had done in years.

“What do you want to do to me?” Taron asked arrogantly, looming over you as you turned onto your back, moved down the sofa and spread your legs open for him.

“Scratch you and bite you, mark you all over. Come here.” The eye contact never broke apart as he knelt between your legs and slowly offered his body to you. For your revenge to be sweetest you needed to take him by surprise. Things started off lovingly. Caressing hands, soft, light, slow traces of fingertips around his hips, over his hard cock and then up his body to his neck and face. A tender kiss was shared between you as you lulled him into a false sense of security despite telling him what was to come. You almost tempted yourself into changing the plan. Making love with Taron was never a chore. But as you shifted beneath him into a more comfortable position you felt the red raw skin of your arse still burning away. Your fingers curled into a tight grip of Taron’s hair as you kissed him harder. A slow scratch dragged down his shoulder and bicep before you moved in and pinched his nipple tightly. You could feel his face tense as you released him from your lips and tilted his head to the side so you could get to work on his neck. Unlike his bite to you, you started lightly, pinching the skin between your teeth and following with a wet kiss. Your fingers switched to his other nipple, gripping it tightly and starting to twist it a little until you heard the hiss of pain and pleasure coming from Taron. He started to rub himself harder into your crotch, so you dragged your fingers down his torso and took hold of him through his boxers.

“It’s so hot when you’re desperate for it.” You whispered into his ear before sucking on his lobe and nibbling it. You caressed your hand around him then dipped inside his boxers to do the most damage. It was the finest line between pleasure and pain so you started slowly and softly, working your fingertips over his balls and lightly dragging your fingernails around his skin.

“Oh god, fuck. Shit… you’re-jesus, that feels so good.” Spilled from Taron’s lips as he dropped his head to your shoulder in delight. Too much pleasure. You upped the pressure and scratched a little harder, letting your index finger and thumb meet in a tiny pinch of skin and being rewarded with another hissed cry. “Aaah, fuck, fuck fuck. No.” Taron’s hand rushed down to your arm and gripped firmly but you didn’t pull back. Instead you kissed him playfully.

“That’s not the word.”

“I’m not gonna say it.” He looked so intensely at you before kissing you back firmly. “I don’t want this to stop.”

“Then fuck me.”

“I’m gonna make you cum so hard.” He almost growled as he rushed to lower his boxers and pull them off his feet. You freed yourself of your underwear and lay back waiting with your core on full show, only to find Taron heading south with his mouth first. His tongue delved into you and licked you quickly, tasting your arousal and making your feet lift in pleasure. This was not what you had pictured but it felt heavenly. Every lick, kiss, graze and suck against your skin had you tingling all over. You could hear Taron enjoying it too, moaning to himself as his fingers teased your inner thighs at the same time. Before long your first orgasm hit, shuddering through your tensing body and filling your core with joy. Taron lapped you up and felt every second of it. The smile on his face as he lifted his head said it all.

“Now you’re going to feel everything,” He smirked “go on all fours, lean against the back of the sofa.”

He wasn’t wrong. He filled you straight away, your juices letting him slide in hard and fast with ease. Everything was heightened after your first orgasm, so much more sensitive and electric. Pulses flew through your body as your nerves were crashed into over and over. Taron was stood, thrusting with everything he had, rocking up onto his toes as he circled his hips and slammed his thighs into the backs of yours. Everything about it was loud. Skin on skin, grunts, moans, swears. You rocked against the padding of the sofa, your arms folded beneath your head, your breasts jolting up with every ounce of power that Taron was giving it.

“Fuck, fuck fuck.” You cried as your eyes closed tightly shut with the pleasure. “Ooow, FUCK!” You screamed as an out of the blue slap landed to your already sore arse cheek. “Taron!”

“Argh, scream my name!” He spanked you twice more and you could only swear in response. “No!” He groaned as he returned to gripping your hips and trying to fuck you even harder.

“T, fuck. Oh god. Don’t stop!” The inevitable rush was building and building inside you and you’d hate him forever if he even dared to stop and leave you hanging. He upped the pace and it was perfect. You were panting out yeses with every thrust, reaching your arms out in front of you as though you could take hold of your orgasm and claim it sooner.

“Come on, baby.” Taron moaned. “Scream for me.”

“Fuuuuck.” You groaned, seconds before a final stinging slap echoed around the room and pushed you over the edge. “Taron!” You cried at the top of your lungs as your body came apart harder than ever before. The exhausted breaths which followed merged with Taron’s own grunts as he completely lost it at the sight, sound and feel of your orgasm. He was still spilling as he pulled out of you and rest his tip against your red raw cheek.

“Fucking hell.” He sighed as he softly stroked himself down from his high and caressed his cum around your bum as he continued to mark his territory.

“I really needed that.” You sighed in reply, too exhausted to do anything other than collapse your chest down into the cushions. “Thank you.”

“I hope I’ve not hurt you too much.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“It looks really sore.” Taron stroked caringly up and down your back a few times before his hand stopped at the top of your shoulder.

“It is, but it’s worth it.” You grinned.

“Can we go to bed now? I’ll even carry you there.” He scooped your up into his arms and leant in to kiss your cheek but was met with your lips and a tender exchange to finish the night.

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#taron egerton #taron egerton x reader #taron egerton fanfiction #taron egerton imagine #taron egerton fanfic

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wollymalfoy · 4 years ago

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Hogwarts is my home (pt6)

Masterlist for the previous parts :)

Tags: @samnblack @idontknowwhatthisisfam @mrspadfoot4

Writers note: I haven’t spell checked this because I’m lazy and I don’t want to keep you all waiting! 🤣

You sat in Hagrids with the golden trio, ‘why don’t we just set him free’ said Harry as him and Hagrid gazed out of the window. ‘Yeah we could sneak him away before they come and get him’ you said sadly. ‘Ahh they’d know it was me’ Hagrid said sadly. You ran over to him and gave him a hug, your arms barely going round half of him. You and Hermione argued with Hagrid to let you stay but he refused to let you see something so horrible. You sat fumbling with your fingers ignoring the sound around you, you wanted to be with Hagrid, to help him through this and it hurt you not being able to. ‘Scabbers!’ Ron said joyfully. You looked up and watched as the rat was handed to Ron. ‘I think that means you owe someone an apology’ Hermione said harshly. ‘Right, when I see Crookshanks I’ll let him know’ he said cockily. You scoffed at his and Hermione gave you a stern look, ‘I meant me!’ She said looking back to Ron. The vase behind Hermione broke making you jump. ‘What on earth was that!’ You yelled. ‘OWW!’ Harry yelled. You ran to the window and saw that three men where approaching the hut. ‘You shouldn’t be here’ Hagrid said panicking. You all left quickly, careful to not be seen.

You sat at the top of the hill, your head buried in your eyes waiting for the sound of the axe. Hermione began to cry behind you at the sound of the beheading. You held in your tears you had to be brave, for your friends sake. The thought that it was Dracos fault crept back and added to the sadness you already felt. You couldn’t comprehend that the vulnerable person you knew too well would do something so horrible. You knew he had issues, but to get an innocent creature killed! Ron gasped. This made you come out of the trance you was in. ‘he bit me.’ You turned around to see scabbers run from Ron. Ron ran after him tripping as he did so. He’d just gotten him back he couldn’t lose him again. You, Harry and Hermione followed him. ‘Scabbers doesn’t seem to be a fan of him anymore’ you said out of breath until you saw what tree Ron was near. ‘Erm guys...’ you said tapping Harry’s arm. ‘You do realise what tree this is’ Hermione said keeping her eyes on the tree. Ron pointed behind you with a teffified look, ‘Run! It’s the grim!’ You turned to see a shabby black dog, you tripped as it ran towards you and jumper over the three of your heads. It ran towards Ron his face full of terror and grabbed his ankle pulling him into the womping willow. He cried in pain and in fear as he was pulled. You sat stiff with terror as you watched Harry and Hermione run after him. THWACK! The womping willow threw them back. This made come back to reality, you got up from where you lay and ran to the castle. ‘Where are you going!’ Harry yelled. ‘I’m getting help’ you yelled not looking back.

You ran through the halls almost losing balance as you turned each corner. You found yourself in the dungeons and rapping on your fathers office door. Although you hadn’t spoken to him properly since you had gotten back from Draco’s you needed him and you was prepared to put aside your differences to save a friend. There was no answer. You barged in to see if he was there but the place was empty. You breathed heavy, panicking, thinking of where he could be. You ran around the dungeons looking for him, his classroom, his bedroom, the store cupboard. You couldn’t find him. The next person you thought of was professor Lupin. He was the defence agains the dark arts professor he could help. You ran up the marble stair cases and barged into his office, not caring for knocking, your friends where in danger! Professor Lupin wasn’t there however your father was looking at a piece of parchment on the desk. You recognised it, the marauders map. Of course you knew what it was you’d been friends with Fred and George for many years now. There was no time to question why the map was there or why your father was alone in Lupins office. ‘What are you doing here it’s late’ you father asked his voice soft. ‘I need help, it’s Ron, he got dragged Into the womping willow’ you managed to say, still panting, ‘a big dog, you need to help him.’ He saw the panic in your face and glided towards you and out the door . You followed him, ‘Y/N you need to stay here I’ll sort this out’ he said. ‘No I’m coming!’ You yelled trying to keep up with him. ‘I don’t want you getting hurt Y/N’ he said sadly. You ignored him and followed him on to the grounds.

You headed down the cramped passage in the womping willow. Where did it lead to? you had no idea. ‘Very well, kill him’ you heard a familiar voice say, ‘but wait one more minute, Harry has the right to know why’ Lupin said his voice dry. ‘Is that-‘ your dad put his finger on his lip to keep you quiet. ‘Come our Peter, come out, come out and play’ you hear another voice say as you followed your dad up the stairs. ‘Expeliarmus’ your father said and a man with long curly black hair had lost his wand. You stood behind your dad petrified as he kept his wand pointed at the two men. You fumbled with your robes and got out your wand pointing it at the men but your hand shaking vigorously. ‘What the fuck is going on?’ You said as you looked at the golden trio. The trio as terrified as you. As your father pushed the rough looking man toward the piano you moved to the wall, your wand pointed at your professor. You shrieked as Harry shot a spell at your father and he flew into the bed. ‘That was dad Harry!’ You yelled. You was too afraid to go to your fathers aid because it meant going past Sirius Black so moved slowly towards Harry. You listened to them all discuss the man Peter Pettigrew, which you thought was dead, your father had told you. But according to your professor and the man you now knew was Sirius Black he was alive and was Ron’s rat. ‘All they could find of Pettigrew was his finger...’ you and Harry said in unison. You watched as the men threw spells at the rat as it fumbled around the room until it transformed into a man. You watched the scene play out all while your father was still motionless in the bed. ‘After that the dementors can have you’ Harry said coldly.

You followed your friends, your professor and Sirius down the passage of the womping willow. Your father floating behind with a spell Lupin had cast. ‘The fleas, they’re murder’ you heard the man say in front of you. Having now known the true story you was no longer afraid of the man and laughed at this. When you got out of the passage Black looked at you, ‘Snapes your dad?’ He questioned and you nodded, ‘arent you glad you didn’t get his looks’ he smirked. You couldn’t help but smile at this.

You stayed with Ron and Hermione as Harry spoke to Sirius. ‘I think I have some dittany you can use Ron’ you said fumbling in the small bag you kept with you at all times. It had an extension charm, which made it difficult to find things. ‘Thanks Y/N’ Ron sighed. ‘Accio dittany’ you said and the bottle flew out of the bag. Before you could open the bottle Hermione muttered, ‘oh no.’ ‘What?’ You and Ron said terrified she stood up and pointed at the moon, ‘HARRY!’ You watched as Lupin began to shake and whine. You grabbed at Ron and helped him stand, keeping an eye on Lupin as he transformed into a werewolf. You pulled Hermione back as the werewolf bowled at her. Your father emerged from the willow and moved towards the 4 of you grabbing hold of Harry. You pointed behind him unable to form words. He turned around seeing the beast and moved to protect the 4 of you. The werewolf swung a long arm at your father causing you all to fall, ‘dad!’ You yelled as you fell and hit your head on a rock. Your vision began to blur and everything went black.

You woke up in a hospital bed Ron in another bed beside you. ‘What happened?’ You asked sitting up your head throbbing slightly. Ron explained and you was furious. Your father was still blaming Sirius for peters death even though peter was clearly alive and well. If only he hadn’t gotten away. You had to explain it to your dad, maybe he could clear Sirius’ name, after all an adults word is better than a bunch of teenagers. You got out of bed and ran as fast as you could go find your father. ‘Where you going?’ Ron shouted.

‘Dad!’ You yelled as you burst through the door of his office, ‘you have to believe us, Sirius didn’t kill Pettigrew he’s alive!’ ‘Y/N although you and your friends little story is convincing I am not fooled’ he said coldly. ‘But it’s the truth I saw him! I saw Pettigrew! He’s alive, why don’t you believe me!’ You said moving closer to him. ‘Y/N those two men are very manipulative, they’d make you believe anything’ he said standing, ‘I’m asking you to see reason, Pettigrew is dead!’ He said furrowing his eyebrows at you. ‘He’s not! I was him! How would I have seen him if he wasn’t alive!’ ‘Just go Y/N I’ve had enough of arguing with you, we never get along anymore!’ ‘Well that’s- that’s because your a complete... arse! Yeah, you’re a complete arse’ you fathers face softened at this he looked at you with no emotion on his face, ‘Pettigrew is dead and Sirius Black is a murderer’ he said calmly. ‘You never listen!’ You said as you picked up thing off his desk and threw them at the wall. Ink splatters covered the wall, parchment covered the floor like a carpet. Y/N...’ he said sadly as he watched you destroy his office. You breathed heavily then gave him one last look and turned on your heel. You father sat his head in his hands not knowing what to do.

You were full of rage as you walked to the common room, the last person you wanted to see was Draco Malfoy. However he was sat at the table in the common room and waved at you with a sad smile. ‘Can I talk to you?’ He said. You sighed and walked over to him. ‘I’m sorry about that Beas- buckbeak’ he said looking into your eyes, ‘and I’m sorry for insulting Hagrid, he’s your friend and I shouldn’t insult your friends.’ ‘Not in front of her anyways’ Blaise laughed from across the table and Draco gave him a terrifying glance that made him shut up. ‘I just hope you can forgive me’ Draco finished. You thought for a moment then looked at him. ‘I’m not ready to forgive you just now, I have a lot of things to deal with and my heads still killing me.’ You finally said. Draco frowned at you and nodded, ‘I understand’ he gave you a quick kiss and you looked at him longingly. You wanted things to be good but like your father Draco was hard to change and things would never be ‘normal.’ He’d been brainwashed by his father from a young age and you understood that. Maybe you’d be the same if your mother was around. But he had the chance to let go of all of that, to be a good person, to show the world he wasn’t like his father just like you had shown you wasn’t like yours. But he refused and sometimes you felt like giving up on the boy, even before you started dating you had this thought. It was horrible to say but it was true. You loved him and was willing to try your hardest for him to be the Draco Malfoy you knew.

‘What happened to you’ George said as you sat under your usual tree. ‘I hit my head’ you said as you lay there eyes closed as the sun shon on the 4 of you. ‘Yeah but how’ he said trying to get you to talk more. You had been very quiet since the night in the womping willow. ‘I don’t wanna talk about it right now’ you said. ‘I spoke to mum she said you can stay with us for summer’ Fred said putting his shirt over your head, ‘since you don’t get along with sevy snape anymore’ he smirked as you took the shirt off your head. ‘Are you sure shes okay with having me all summer?’ You asked. ‘Of course, she loves you’ George smiled with a twinkle in his eyes.

Thanks for reading, loves! :)

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy fluff #blaise zabini fluff #draco malfoy x reader #george weasley x reader #golden trio era #harry potter #blaise x reader #blaise zabini #draco malfoy x y/n #george weasley x y/n #fred weasley x reader #hermione granger x reader #ron weasley x reader #severus snape x reader #slytherin!reader

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marril96 · 5 years ago

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When in Rome...

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Your and Rowena’s moment of fun is ruined when an alternate world hunter starts making unreasonable demands.

A/N: Set after 13x21.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

Things were hectic at the bunker, and if it wasn't for your and Rowena's tiny, same-private space, you would have gone insane. The two of you settled on a pair of chairs by the library, invisible to the swarm of people around you. It was more for your benefit like hers; Rowena could handle herself amongst people just fine, having done so for almost four hundred years.

As an introvert, you were finding it difficult. There was too much noise, too many people. They were like ants, swarming you, surrounding you, technically harmless but not enough for you to let your guard down. They may not have wished you harm, but the majority of them were still hunters. As such, they couldn't be trusted. Just because Rowena had helped them didn't mean they posed no threat. The two of you were witches, and that was enough for them to want you dead.

You were supposed to be on your way home by now. With the rift taken care of and everyone back home and safe, you and Rowena had done your part. But there were still a few things the Winchester needed help with and Sam had asked Rowena to stay for a while longer. She agreed, and thus you were stuck. You weren't going to leave her here alone, the only witch in a sea of humans. Leaving her alone had gotten her brutally tortured and murdered by Lucifer the year before, and from then on the two of you had agreed to stick together as much as you could. Where one went, the other followed.

"You have to work on your pronunciation," Rowena said. You were having difficulty with a spell and had asked her to help you out. Anything to pass the time.

"Gaelic is hard," you said.

"It is," Rowena agreed, sympathetic. She was a great teacher, endlessly patient, quick to calm you down every time you got into one of your I-quit moods. "Would it help if I wrote down the phonetics for you?"

"Yes, please!"

She smiled. "Alright." You handed her the piece of paper the spell was written on. She took a pen from the coffee table and started scribbling on the back. "When we get home, we're starting Gaelic lessons again."

"Okay." You'd handled Latin just fine, but could never grasp Gaelic. It was a difficult language to learn. Pronouncing it was all but impossible. "There's a language school in town. Maybe I should sign up for Gaelic lessons."

Rowena looked at you, deadpan, serious. "Don't insult me."

You grinned, which prompted a smile to break free on her mouth. "Just kidding. You're a good teacher."

She raised an eyebrow. "Just good?"

"Great. Awesome. Gorgeous." Her face lit up; the way to Rowena's heart was through flattery. "Sexy. Lovely. Adorable."

"Adorable?" she questioned.

"Most adorable." You booped her nose, and she scrunched up her face, confirming your words. Adorable. Adorablest. Goodness, you loved her! "God, you're so precious!"

She playfully smacked your arm, cheeks flaming, red as her hair. "Am not."

You pouted. "Ow! No violence!"

"Then behave."

"So mean."

"That's right. I'm mean. Not adorable, and certainly not precious."

"Sure." Your tone was dripping with sarcasm. Rowena rolled her eyes with all the drama of a theater actress, a practiced, seasoned one. "Think I'll ever be as powerful as you?"

The thought came to you out of nowhere, though it wasn't the first time you'd pondered it. Rowena was a powerful witch. One of the most powerful witches in the world. Was it possible for you to acquire such power? Birth hadn't gifted you nearly half of it, but was it possible to amplify what you had? Was practice and studying enough? Or would you forever be a regular witch, no different than any other in the crowd?

You were okay with being ordinary, but it would be a lie to say you didn't aspire to be like Rowena. The woman could make gods fall to their knees, could make archangels tremble in their vessels. One word, and what she wanted was hers. Who wouldn't want to be like her?

Many witches would kill for a chance to study under her. You were dating her. All you had to do was ask, and all her knowledge, gathered through centuries of hardship, was yours.

You just needed skill to harness it.

"Aye," Rowena said without a moment's hesitation. Completely and utterly sure of her response, as if you'd asked if the sky was blue or if bees made honey. She just knew it, and she was certain of it, and it made your heart swell up with warmth. "You're a natural-born witch, just like me. You're skilled, and you work hard." A smirk grazed her lips. "You have a great teacher, after all. I don't see why you wouldn't be like me. Power is taken, not given. Remember that, dear. I was born with potential, just like you. It was up to me what I did with it, and I made the most with it because why wouldn't I? It was mine for the taking."

She made it sound so easy. So effortless. Want? Take. Have. The end. If only you were gifted with such confidence. If only you were so sure of your capabilities. You weren't a bad witch by any means, but your power was still raw. Untamed. You still struggled. In comparison to Rowena, you were a peasant.

To be fair, almost every witch was a peasant in comparison to her, but that didn't make you feel any better about yourself.

"You're really good at pep talks, you know that?" you joked, trying to lighten the glum mood that befell you. No use beating yourself up over something trivial. After all, it was just magic. Your magic, that worked perfectly fine the way it was. However much you wanted it, you didn't need limitless power. You weren't helpless; you could defend yourself if you were in need. You could fight. You could have fun. So what if you couldn't seek out and kill reapers? It didn't make you any less of a witch, no matter what your insecurities said.

"Shut up!" Rowena said, a traitorous giggle — one of the most adorable, precious sounds she could make — escaping her mouth.

"You should pursue it as a career," you teased.

It earned you a glare that had to have killed before. The kind that scared everyone but you because you knew her enough to know she was all bark and no bite. A yappy puppy that loved to put on an act in attempts to be tough, all the while melting into a puddle at the softest touch.

You pecked the tip of her nose and blew her a kiss as she shot you another glare. The corners of her mouth twitched; she kept it shut, lips a thin line, giggles begging for freedom that would never come.

"You know what my favorite spell is?" Your eyes wandered to a bookshelf across from you, right behind Rowena. You focused on the spine of a random book; a leather-bound one, with neat writing and intricate lines trailing around the letters. As old as you and Rowena combined, possibly older. Beautiful in that way old, well-loved books were. Your hands rose up in the air, palms open, and you said, "Liber."

Magic stirred within you, a warm, comforting rush of delight, and the book shot out from the shelf, straight into your waiting hands. Your mouth dissolved into a grin as you clutched the book to your chest, heart brimming with pride, with wonder. No matter how many times you performed the same spell, it never ceased to amaze you.

"Lazy-arse," Rowena commented.

You shrugged. "Why should I get up when I can just say the word — Liber—" you glanced at another book, and it, too, jumped into your hands "—and voila! It's here."

Rowena shook her head. "I should have never taught you that spell."

"Hey!" you protested. "I'm a practical girl."

"You're a lazy girl."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

She sighed, shaking her head.

"It's fun and you know it! Liber!" This time it was a journal, written almost a century ago by some Man of Letters. You set it on your lap, atop the other two books. Rowena couldn't help it — she chuckled, and you shot her a smug glance. "Told ya."

"It's not—"

"Could you stop?"

The two of you looked up, startled by the unknown voice. A man was staring at you. He was tall, hair a scruffy brown, clothes hanging on him like curtains — Sam and Dean's borrowed flannel, too big for his skinny frame.

Rowena frowned. "Beg pardon?"

"Could you stop doing magic?" His voice was strained. Politeness as fake as the smile he was trying to put on. "Please."

"We're not doing anything bad," you said, baffled by the request. Unsure how to approach it. "We're just having fun."

He swallowed. Cleared his throat. Swallowed again. "Could you please not do it?"

Why did that please sound so accusatory? So insulting? As if he wanted to call you a bad word and opted for a pleasantry instead, hoping you wouldn't notice.

"Why should we not?" Rowena asked, daring him to shed the mask and say exactly what was on his mind. Challenging him the way she always did, never one to back down.

"It's making me uncomfortable," the man said.

Rowena raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"We're not doing anything to you," you said. You didn't even know his name. Up until now, you'd never seen him before in your life. Plenty of people had rushed in through the gate; you were more focused on Rowena, tired, at the end of her strengths, than the swarms of strangers bursting in through the rift.

"I don't like magic."

The man's cheeks flushed, a faint tint of shame staining them red. It was hard to believe he had any shame, saying things like that. For all you knew, it was as fake as everything else about him.

"Or witches." Instantly, pulling on a ridiculous smile, he added, "No offense."

People always said that, as if the phrase somehow made the blatantly offensive thing less offensive. As if it made it okay just because someone said (and lied through their teeth) they didn't mean it.

You stared at him, flabbergasted. Rowena's face was the picture of offense, but there was a flicker of amusement in the small smile on her mouth. She'd heard it all before. All the worst insults, she knew by heart. Nothing surprised her anymore. The audacity of the man, though, made her want to curse him right then and there (you could see it in her eyes, the desire to let her magic roam free, to unleash it upon him), but she kept herself in check. No need to make a scene — yet — over an insolent man.

"I don't mind you… doing whatever it is you do," he said. "Just, please, don't do it in front of me."

"Then don't look," Rowena said simply.

He tilted his head. "What?"

"If our magic bothers you so much, don't look at it. Surely you are able to look away?"

A nervous smile. "In my world, witches—" the word was spat out as if it were dirty, foul "—don't hang around hunters. And they don't use their magic around us, if they know what's good for them."

Was that a threat?

"This isn't your world, is it?" Rowena said, cold as ice. Tone a thinly-veiled threat.

"I'm just saying I'm not used to seeing magic being used so openly," the man said with an innocent shrug.

You couldn't resist a retort. "And we're not used to being threatened so openly." Two could play this game.

"I'm not threatening you."

"Yes, you are." You weren't going to back down, either. Rowena had taught you well. Alone, you would have cowered, maybe ran away, but with her there, you had nothing to fear. She wouldn't let anything happen to you. She wouldn't let a stranger — an ungrateful hunter — lay a finger on you. "Leave us alone."

He held up his hands, a feigned surrender. "I'm not doing anything to you. I just want you to stop using magic around me."

Looking him straight in the eyes, you held out a hand to your side and exclaimed, "Liber!" The book — a random paperback — flew perfectly into your palm. Not taking your eyes off the man, you laid it on the others in your lap. Does this bother you? your gaze said. Challenged. Dared. Does it make you uncomfortable?

It apparently did for he shifted his feet awkwardly and took a large breath. "Please, don't do that. I don't want you any harm. I just don't want to be around magic."

"You're the one who approached us," you pointed out.

A gulp. "Like I said, in my world—"

Rowena cut him off. "Shall we find you a way to go back?"

He stared, baffled. "What?"

"You seem to miss your world. Would you like us to help you go back?"

"Wha-that's not what I'm saying!"

"Witches fear you in your world, do they not? Isn't that what you want?"

"I don't… that's not what this is about. I don't want you to fear me!" The tone of his voice, his demeanor, the flicker in his eyes said otherwise. "Just stop using magic! How hard is that?"

"You didn't mind our magic when it kept the rift open for you and your people to come here," you said. "Maybe we should've let it close and left you in that war-torn shithole."

A vein on his forehead popped, face flushing an angry red. "I didn't ask for your help!"

"Why'd you come here, then? You could've stayed home. No magic there."

"You don't know what it's like to see everything you've ever known destroyed. The people you grew up with dead. Your home shattered to pieces."

"Sounds horrible." It truly did. "Seems you're better off here. With witches."

"I'm not used to your kind."

"Get used to us, then."

"Your kind is unnatural." He spat it as if it were filth.

There we go. "So you do have a problem with witches." Surprise, surprise.

"I don't want you here," he said. As if his opinion held weight. As if he had any say in the matter.

You couldn't hold back a laugh. "Sam and Dean are our friends." Acquaintances? Allies? Who was counting anymore? "We've been here long before you. If that bothers you, why don't you leave? You're living here for free. You're wearing Sam and Dean's clothes and eating their food. You don't get to make any demands."

"Who are you to talk to me like that?" he spat. "You're just a witch!"

"And you're an ungrateful bastard!"

"Watch your mouth!"

"Or what?" Rowena said. "What are you going to do, boy?"

The hunter leaned in as if to whisper a secret. "Sam and Dean won't always be around."

"That's right," Rowena told him, looking him straight in the eyes. Making her own threat clear. "They won't."

He laughed. "You're pretty feisty for a witch. Knew a few of them just like you. At the end, they were all begging for mercy."

"I don't beg."

"Yet."

"Leave us alone!" you shouted, purposely loud, having had enough of this. You'd agreed to stay on Sam's behest, but you'd never signed up to be harassed. You weren't going to let some lowly hunter threaten you.

All the chatter in the Bunker instantly stopped. Heads turned your way. Eyes observed you, curious, confused. The hunter froze at the sudden attention, caught off guard.

"Is everything okay?" Sam asked, walking over.

"This guy's threatening us," you said.

"What?" He eyed the hunter, who put his hands up.

"She's lying."

"She is not," Rowena said. "This nit won't leave us be."

"Is that true?" Sam asked him.

The hunter sighed. "They were using magic. I just told them to knock it off."

"We were just having fun," you said.

"And I told you I don't want you to use magic around me!"

"It was a simple bloody spell to pick up books!" Rowena snapped. "We weren't hexing anyone!"

Sam looked from the two of you over to him. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is, they're witches!" the hunter said. "How can you let them into your house?"

"They're friends," Sam said defensively.

"They're witches." His face twisted with disgust. "And they were using magic. Doesn't that bother you?"

"No. They weren't doing anything wrong."

"Their entire existence is wrong."

"Fuck you!" you spat.

"Okay," Sam said, holding up his hands. "Okay, let's all calm down."

It was easy for him to say. He wasn't the one being insulted.

"I want them gone," the hunter said.

Sam turned to him. "They're not going anywhere. Like I said, they're friends, and we need them."

"I don't need them."

"That's fine, but this is Dean and I's home. They're welcome here." He pointed up the stairs. "If you don't like it, there's the door."

Warmth swelled in your chest. Rowena smirked victoriously.

The hunter was flabbergasted. "Are you seriously siding with witches over a hunter?"

"Yeah," Sam said without a flicker of a doubt. "I am. They've helped us a lot. If it weren't for them, the rift would have closed and none of us would be here right now. I understand your reservations, but they're not bad people."

"You're crazy! This world is crazy!" Sam shrugged. The hunter rolled his eyes. "Suit yourself. I'm not hanging around witches."

He slid up the stairs and slammed the door on his way out so hard the walls shook. You sighed in relief. Good riddance.

"What was that all about?" Dean asked, emerging from the kitchen with a sandwich in his hands.

"One of the other world guys didn't like our rules," Sam said.

"Sucks to be him," Dean commented, took a bite out of his sandwich, and went back to the kitchen.

"You guys okay?" Sam asked.

"Aye," Rowena said. "A wee hunter doesn't scare us."

"Sorry about that. Most of the guys are really nice. I swear, this won't happen again."

You sure hoped so.

"Don't worry about us, Samuel. We're big girls."

You nodded, though it felt nice to know the Winchesters — for once in your life— were completely on your side.

"You're always welcome here," he said.

"We know," Rowena said. "Do you happen to have any more of that scotch from last night?"

Sam laughed. "Sure. I'll get you some."

"It would be much appreciated."

You quirked up an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

She shrugged. "That nincompoop exhausted me. I need a drink."

You supposed that was fair. Maybe you could snag a glass as well.

And, hopefully, you could head home soon.

As welcoming as the Winchesters were, there was no place like home.

*****

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