Anon:Hi! Erm I was wondering if you could do a sister Winchester story were one of her brothers accidentally knocks her out during training and while she’s out she has a like a weird dream (completely up to you) and when she wakes up she’s face to face with her brothers and is slightly freaked out//just starts laughing but soon complains about the pain?¿? Sorry it’s long lol I love your writing!!
Nonnie, this was tons of fun to write! Thank you for the idea! As always, feel free to comment with your thoughts. I could really use some constructive criticism.
Summary: Sam Winchester, your brother, accidentally knocks you out during a sparring session. While unconscious, you take a very interesting trip to dreamland…
The air is pervaded with the lovely stench of sweat. BO wafts through the air of the simple training room Dean had set up. A mat lies in the center of the room serving as a safe sparring area. And on that mat, circling each other, are you and your brother, Sam Winchester, both of you holding taped fists in front of your faces. You are locked in yet another combat training session that had lasted for longer than you wanted. Covered in sweat and some new bruises, you’re ready to end this fight.
“C’mon, Sam. You’re not scared to hit a girl, are you?” you taunt.
“I’m not the one who’s been circling for the past few minutes,” Sam retorts back.
You grin peevishly. “Sorry, what was that? Can’t hear you from down here. Your head’s too far up in the clouds! Watch out for any passing planes, Godzilla!”
“Look who’s talking, shrimpy.”
“Hey, Being fun-sized has its advantages. For instance, I can do this!” You dive between Sam’s legs, spring up behind him, and wrap your arms and legs tightly around his torso before he can react. You tighten your grip on his neck. “What’cha gonna do about that, huh?”
Sam’s voice comes out a little strangled. “Just this.” He rolls on the ground so suddenly, you release your grip in shock. Sam stands back up, placing a foot on your chest. “Take that, squirt.”
“Oh, you’re gonna regret that one, moose man.” You drive your hands into Sam’s ankle, twist, and throw him all in one motion. Sam loses balance and falls to the ground while you get to your own feet. You raise your fists again.
“Bring it on, Goliath.”
Sam does something completely unexpected. He launches himself up, throwing his whole body into a punch aimed for your face. You side step and respond with a pleasant right hook to his face. Sam staggers backward a little.
“How’s that for a taste of your own-”
Your cocky remark is cut off by Sam’s fist slamming into the side of your left temple: a perfect knockout punch. You feel weightless as you slam to the mat on the floor, watching everything go dark.
You start swimming up through bright green water. You see a bright sun just up above your head. Instinct tells you to start going in that direction. You break through the surface of the water, only you’re not up anymore. Rather, the water is the sky and the clouds and light are the ground. You drop down into a fluffy bed of a pink cotton cloud. You shred a piece and pop it in your mouth. Cotton candy. Yum. You look around to get an idea of your surroundings. Even in your dream life, your hunting skills kick in. Usually, your dreams were filled with faces of past hunts, nightmares of monsters, the normal PTSD-esque effects of being a hunter. The last time dreamland was like this, you were around 7 years old.
“BLAAAAARGH!!” You turn around suddenly, prepping your dream self to be chased by whatever fictional beast was after you. Right on schedule. But what you saw was surprising even for your mind. Up, towering above you, was a giant version of your brother, Sam, his long hair even longer than usual and moose antlers sticking out from the top of his head. Great big moose legs erupted from beneath his torso, like a Greek satyr. Only with moose legs.
Just when you think it couldn’t get any stranger, out on the shoulder of Moose-Man popped a mini version of Dean. Before you can even comprehend the obscurity of this new development, he starts chittering rather than talking. And a squirrel tail pops out behind him.
“Ooookayyyy…..this one is new.” You reach into your back pocket, expecting to find your normal dream weaponry. A knife, a gun, an angel blade, sword, you have a bit of a versatile inventory normally.
You got an ostrich.
But, hey. Whatever works. You chuck it at Moose-Man and Squirrel-Boy. It kind of explodes in a fury of feathers. You think. You heard some very indignant squawking followed by the sound of soft flapping, similar to when Cas appears. You turn and start running. Well, jumping from cloud to cloud, but same thing. You sort of lunar landing jump from blue cotton candy cloud to pink cotton candy cloud, hearing angry squirrel chittering and mad moose bellowing. You don’t dare look back, lest you start dying of laughter. Or getting squashed by Sam the Moose-Man’s giant hooves. Or dying of laughter while getting squished by Sam the Moose-Man’s giant hooves.
Either option doesn’t sound too good to dream you.
The heavy thudding of Moose-Man’s footsteps is louder than Kansas tornadoes.You keep running, fearing the prospect of falling behind. But it feels like you’re stuck in slow motion. Legs like jello, you try and try and try to move. Sprint. Crawl. Fly. Anything to get you away. More angry squirrel chatters tell you the mutant version of Dean is closing in on you. You turn your head an impossibly 180 degrees to see what-in-the-name-of-Chuck is going on.
As if it couldn’t get any weirder. Squirrel-Boy now has Wolverine claws erupting from his adorable little furry front paws. He raises one hand up, ready to shred you like a cheese grater. So, you react normally: talking your way out of it. You raise your hands in front of your body, saying the first thing on your dream-addled mind.
“I DON’T SPEAK SQUIRREL!!!”
Furry Dean chitters at you confused. The razor sharp blades from his paws shethe themselves. “CRCRCRCKRRK RKERKRRKCRKCEKR?”
“No hablo Squirrel-o,” you respond, a little desperately.
“KRCERCKEKRK.” Dean scurries up a newly appearing tree with…pie leaves? The towering plant has a trunk of stacked aluminum pie tins, sort of like a palm tree, and up at the top, spreading out from everything, sat steaming, fresh-baked pies of every kind. Squirrel-Boy curls up to where the ‘leaves’ meet together. He snatches the nearest pecan pie and starts munching on it happily.
You brush off cotton candy from your pants. “Well, that takes of Dean. So, what about-” A giant roar interrupts the rest of your sentence, but, hey, you get your answer. “There’s Sam…”
You look up. Sure enough, there’s the demented, furry version of your older brother. You do not hesitate to even try and throw a weapon at him this time. You just turn tail and RUN.
Dreamland really sucks. In the midst of your running, an orange, black winged, guinea pig with Cas’s face pops up in the middle of your path. Being the subconscious dream klutz you are, of course you trip on it. You twist your body and fall straight on your back. The guinea pig of Cas uses his miniature black wings to fly away from you.
Just as you turn your head to watch the fuzzy guinea pig leave, another noise snaps your head back to where it was.
“RAAAAAAARRRRGH!!!” Moose-Man Sam raises one of his giant moose hooves and slams it down on your face-
You sit up, cold sweat dripping off your face. You pretty much immediately regret it though. The pain on the left side of your head hurts to high heaven. You unintentionally gasp out, raising one hand to feel the damage.
“Y/N?” You’re pulled into a great big hug from a brother you hadn’t noticed sat beside you. You recognize who it is immediately.
You notice you’re in your bedroom in the Bunker, soft blankets pressing against the bottom of your arms. Sam sits on the side of your bed.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to go full force on you.”
“Damn right you didn’t. I’m refereeing all your sparring matches from now on.” You hear the gruff, but caring tone of your other brother from elsewhere in the room.
“When you went down, I panicked. We couldn’t wake you up, so we brought you to your room. Dean and I were about ready to take you - what are you laughing about?”
You start laughing hard and loud. Your dream had been so crazy that to actually hear Sam and Dean sends you into a fit of laughter. You couldn’t have been laughing harder if you were sprayed with the Joker’s laughing gas.
“Y/N? What is it??” Dean sounds so confused in the corner of your room. You remember how he was up the pie tree. His voice only stirs you into a deeper laughing spree.
“What?! What’d I say??” Dean shrugs at Sam, both brothers past confusion.
“No hablo Squirrel-o!” you giggle out, quoting your dream self.
“That’s it. Sammy, we’re getting her to a hospital now.”
“Heheheheheh-owowowowowow.” Your laughing turns to painful wincing at the pain in your head. You rub your severely bruised head. “I’m fine, guys.”
Dean looks at you with more incredulity than a teacher who hears the ‘my-dog-ate-my-homework’ excuse. “Uh-huh. Sam, pick her up. I’ll warm up the car. We’re getting your head checked.”
“Ah, Dean. C’mon, man. It was one punch! I’m fine!” you protest. You start to get out of bed, but you immediately trip. Sam catches you before you faceplant on the floor.
“Woah! Yep. We’re taking you to the doctor. C’mon.” Sam hauls you up off the ground and wraps your arm around his shoulder. “Can you walk at all?”
You experimentally place one foot on the ground. “Maybe…” You slip again. “Nope.”
“All right.” Sam scoops your legs up. “What the heck was that about?” he asks you as he carries you up to the door outside.
Your head is lolling around a bit more than you’d like it to, still hurting bad. “I had the weirdest dream, man…” You half giggle when you remember bits and pieces. “I threw an ostrich at your Moose face.”
#do you ever think about how fuckin unnecessary this was #like homegirl bernadette over here already had two guns all up in her face she REALLY DIDNT NEED A THIRD TO BE CONVINCED #they literally set all this up just for Kate fucking Fuller to make her dramatic entrance reborn as the motherfuckin Phoenix #the One True Alpha of heists and supernatural ass kicking #what the f u c k
so obviously he started growing out his hair as soon as he got to hogwarts just to piss his parents the fuck off thats like actual canon
and he skates by under the radar for the first couple years when his hair’s only just kind of shaggy and not long
but at the end of like his third or fourth year he comes home for the summer and his hair is down to just past his shoulders and his mother is livid and forces him to sit down so she can cut it all off and he takes it with a stony face bc he won’t let her see how much she’s hurting him
its only when he’s shut in his room later and faking sleep that he lets himself grieve for his hair because a) he’s sirius black and he’s Vain and b) his hair was like. the one thing he had that set him apart from all the rules and the strictness and the family expectations of what he should be and how a Man of the most ancient and noble house of black should act and now its all gone
except he wakes up the next morning and it’s all grown back and he could cry with how happy he is and the look of fury on his mother’s face still makes him quake a little but she seems to realise there’s no point trying to cut it off again and sirius takes some grim satisfaction in having won this one
and from then on he has a thing about his hair where no one’s allowed to touch it because it makes him really panicky (which he totally brushes off with snark and ‘get your hands away from my hair james i kNow where those hands have been we share a doRM’)
the only person who he lets touch it is remus and he doesn’t even realise it the first time because he’s just thrown himself down to rest his head on remus’ lap after quidditch practice. his hair is still in a messy bun and remus absentmindedly starts untangling it, sirius letting his eyes fall shut and humming contentedly. and its remus who notices what he’s Done and he snatches his hands away all of a sudden because he knows the hair thing isn’t just vanity and he’s stumbling over his apologies when sirius just looks up at him and is like ‘moony, moony stop. it’s okay, it’s fine, calm down. remus. i don’t mind it when it’s you’
and from then on remus ends up brushing/twisting/braiding sirius’ hair and it’s just. it’s their Thing and it actually calms sirius rather than freaking him out
and the day he gets word that his family’s disowned him he has the worst panic attack he’s had in years because it doesn’t matter that he hated his parents he still feels like he’s failed and that he’s not good enough he’s a fuck up and god everyone’s voices are so loud, there’s so much noise and movement in the great hall and he has to get out
remus sees him leave and finds him curled up in his bed in gryffindor tower and he’s crying like remus has never seen him cry before; huge wracking gasps like they’re being ripped from his chest and remus just. sits himself down lightly on the bed and gently shifts sirius to rest against his chest and carefully combs his fingers through sirius’ hair, so so slowly, until his breathing evens out, and his eyes are still wet with tears but he’s not shaking anymore
Prompt: To everyone’s surprise, William Magnusson’s relationship with (Y/N) was a serious one. And everything was going on perfectly until their third year starts and the new girls arrive, Noora Sætre being one of them.
Pairing: William Magnusson x Reader
A/N: I really love Noorhelm so it was kind of hard for me to write this lol. Also, I’m completely in love with P!Chris, so there’s a lot of him in this too. Anyways, I hope you like it! (Kind of thinking this needs a sequel, but I don’t know. What’d you think?)
(Y/N) rolled her eyes as she saw them talking for the third time that day. She tightened her grip on her bag, holding it so hard her knuckles turned white.
“You’re so jealous,” said the person sitting next to her. She turned, glaring, to face Christoffer, who had the most annoying smirk playing on his lips.
“I’m not,” she answered, obviously lying. Chris scoffed.
“Oh, (Y/N),” he said, throwing his arm over her shoulders and bringing her closer to him. “You know that you don’t have to be jealous, right?”
(Y/N) shrugged, shaking her head and then resting it over Chris’ shoulder. Chris and her had been best best friends since they could remember, to the point that they would even say they were brothers. She took a deep breath as she turned to see William again. He was smiling as Noora talked, his hands resting in the front pockets of his jeans.
To be honest, I feel like Peridot’s face speaks volumes in this screenshot. She’s been helping Lapis recover and forgive herself over the horrible things she’d done - While She Was Whole - and here, one of Steven’s best friends (his third to be exact), who should be a safe person, not only brought up something horrible Lapis did that she forgot, but brought something up Lapis had done while she was in a stably-cracked manic state and implied that she should remember it because who she was then was still her, when it wasn’t. Peridot’s a gem, so, to her, this probably comes off as Connie assuming the things someone did while going through something like severe substance-abuse withdrawal are things that person would choose to do anyway.
Ok. Third and final segment of the Neverland Renaissance. The prompt for this one read: after Emma is saved
by David from her little escapade in the Neverland’s ocean, Hook brings her
lots of blankets to warm her up in her room. This is one of the first one’s I wrote, which you’ll probably be able to tell. But thank you all for the support and likes/reblogs. And I hope you enjoy this one. :)
Emma sneezes, sniffles and wipes her nose with the
back of her hand.
rescued her from the ocean, she had been ushered into a cabin on the ship, Mary
Margaret fussing over her, checking her temperature and jumping in fright every
time she coughs.
Emma snaps after the third time Mary Margaret places the back of her hand over
Emma’s forehead. Guilt creeps up in her at the hurt look on Mary Margaret’s
face, but she just isn’t used to this,
to having parents and people fuss over every little thing. Heck, until a couple
of weeks ago, she had lived her whole life without parents. It’s a stretch from
twenty-eight years of loneliness to having a family (and then some) overnight.
She’s still finding her footing.
AN: Cinderella-esque drabble set in the 1800s (or thereabouts). Unbetaed because lately I’ve just been flying by the seat of my pants and it’s starting to show in research/quality. Will need to stop that soon. :)
Walking toward the enormous, ornate doors, Molly took a deep breath and pressed her hand against her stomach in hopes of calming the sudden fluttering of butterflies.
She could do this.
Her black gown fit her like a glove. She had spent the better part of three months sewing in what little free time she had to make the ball gown out of her mourning dress. After her father passed the year before, she was left with no more family; no one left to mourn. A black gown was surely a social faux-paus, but with the mask on her face and the silver chain threaded through her flowing, uncovered tresses, no one would recognize her as the morbid morgue mouse. And she couldn’t afford to buy even a third-hand dress. She’d had to scrimp and save for the silver beading she’d added to the sweetheart neckline. The fitted sleeves ended at her elbows and the skirt billowed out from the bottom of the corset, the fabric brushing the ground with every twist she took.
She couldn’t stop the excited and nervous smile from spreading across her face.
The manservants on either side of the entrance opened the doors to the ballroom. Music and laughter filled her ears and she pulled her shoulders back.
She was going to the ball!
He’d danced with seventeen women. And all of them were insipid little dullards. Sherlock caught his mother’s pointed glare over the head of his current dancing partner, a particularly arrogant duchess with nefarious designs on his crown, and forced an emotionless smile.
They whirled about the floor and Sherlock glanced at the line of masked ladies waiting for their turn with him. It stretched around the enormous room. He inwardly groaned. Why had he agreed to this?
Behind him, the doors opened and a subdued hush came over the attendees in a wave.
Latecomers were not an uncommon occurrence, so it was a surprise to Sherlock that the small orchestra trailed off in a discordant mess and the conversations around him come to a stumbling halt as everyone turned to look up.
Sherlock followed their gazes and turned around.
A woman stood at the top of the stairs, petite with soft brown hair. Her features were pleasing, if a bit plain. But was most striking about her was the black gown she wore. The silver beading along the neckline shimmered in the lights as her chest rose and fell. Already he could hear the snide comments from those around him about the audacity of the stranger for brash, inappropriate colour she wore, but he found himself admiring her for that alone. Her hair was loose and fell to her waist in a gentle wave and, unlike all the other women, her arms were bare of jewelry or gloves.
Sherlock quirked an eyebrow in intrigue.
At last, someone not concerned with ‘proper etiquette’.
Abandoning the duchess, Sherlock kept his eyes locked on the newcomer and slowly made his way toward her as she descended the stairs. A dark blush stained her cheeks at being the center of attention, but she kept her head held high. When she reached the bottom, Sherlock broke free of the crowd and stepped in front of her path.
She looked up at him and her brown eyes widened behind her mask in shock when she realised who was blocking her way.
'Your H-Highness.’ She belatedly remembered to curtsy and Sherlock cursed the ridiculous custom even as he bowed at the waist.
A small gasp escaped her lips when he took her hand and pressed a kiss to the soft skin. When she tried to pull it back, his fingers caressed the flesh of her palm and he felt the callouses on her fingertips and he glanced down to note the minute scars on her fingers.
This woman was most certainly not born of royalty.
A genuine smile creased his face and he held fast to her hand.
'May I claim the first dance?’
The blush traveled down her neck and spread across her collarbone.
'You may,’ she replied in a soft, but confident voice.
The gaping onlookers parted as he led her to the center of the dance floor. Sherlock turned and placed his free hand on her waist, tugging her closer. She had to tilt her head up to look him in the eye. He could see the pounding of her heart against her throat and, for the first time, found himself flattered to be admired by a woman.
The first notes of a waltz flowed through the air. With confidence, he stepped forward and they fell into the dance with ease.
'You are not royalty.’
Instantly, her red cheeks paled and fear crossed her features. Sherlock regretted his untethered tongue and rushed to reassure her.
'Do not worry, I have no intention of outing the one person in this room who has not made me wish to perish from boredom.’
She swallowed nervously and glanced over at the King and Queen, who watched them unabashedly. But then she looked up at him and suddenly Sherlock felt as if she was reading his very thoughts. How could this stranger see him so well?
'Then I have arrived just in time,’ she quipped with a mock serious frown. 'One cannot have the crown prince dying at his own ball!’
Sherlock chuckled and spun them in a quarter turn. The skirt of her gown billowed out around his legs and he found himself entranced by her smile. Though not as conventionally beautiful as many of the other women, with thin lips and a small figure, her gentle confidence and courage made her all the more beautiful in his eyes.
'What is your name?’
Her eyes twinkled mischievously. 'Now, why would I tell you that? It would rather spoil the anonymity of a masque ball.’
'True,’ he agreed. 'But I find myself at an unfair disadvantage. You know who I am, yet I must spend the evening wondering who you are.’
'I doubt that. Once our dance is finished, you will be on to the next woman and forget all about me.’
Sherlock sobered and slowed to a stop. 'I doubt that.’
Her cheeks darkened further and she lowered her eyes. But Sherlock could see the shy smile she was trying to hold back. Readjusting his hand on her waist, he pulled her just a bit closer and led them back into the dance.
Okay but ever since the issue where we learn Roxy and Jetta live together, which is apparently something they don’t want any one else in the band to know, especially Pizzazz as she had some rule about band mates living together.
Ever since I have suspected that the two of them are actually a couple, and this first issue of The Misfits own ongoing does nothing but super reinforce that for me.
I mean “Nothing can Separate us.”
And then several years earlier when they actually meet for the first time, just look at Roxy’s face in those panels, I mean it’s like a heart bomb exploded on her face in that third panel. If that’s not, Oh my god I love her, I don’t know what is.
His jaw dropped when he saw T’mara. Even with undeniable lucidity, some part of his brain had worried that she had really gone, that she was dead, and that it was his fault. But with her standing before him, Pendles could not help but snake what he could of his tentacle around her waist and pulled her in close.
Running his hand across her back and rubbing his face against hers, Pendles reveled in the waves of relief: T’mara was here, she was real. She was probably confused as he wordlessly embraced her covered in fresh wounds, but it did not matter to him and he could not explain himself even if he needed to. But every nerve and sensor sang in chorus as he held her body close to his and rubbed his scales against her skin in near desperate strokes. She was alive.
“I missed you,” he muttered through his destroyed voice. “So much.”
This is the third part to year 7 in the sherlolly-Harry Potter series! Happy Valentine’s Day!
Molly didn’t go to dinner. She ran down into the Hufflepuff common room and to her dorm. Somehow word spread like wildfire around Hogwarts and Molly didn’t want to experience it quite yet.
She couldn’t get Sherlock’s face out of her head. Every time she tried to focus on something else it came swimming into view. Their patronuses matched. They were soul mates. This somehow managed to fill Molly with happiness and pain all in one.
She must have been there for hours. She wasn’t afraid of everyone else but the fact she showed her heart to Sherlock like that made her sick. She couldn’t wrap her head around what it meant. Did he love her? Did she even care if he did? She put her head in her lap and tears rushed down her face. Yes. She cared. She loved him.
“Molly?” a voice said. It was a girl from the year below her. Molly felt bad that she couldn’t remember the girls name.
“There’s someone outside the common room looking for you.”
Molly’s thoughts sprang to Sherlock.“Who?”
Molly got to her feet and walked outside into the hall. Mary was standing there with a napkin of food. “Lestrade told us what happened. You want to talk about it?” Molly shook her head. “Yea, you do. Come on.” Mary wrapped her arm around Molly’s shoulder and lead her to the stairs outside the common room. They sat and Molly dug into the food.
“So. You and Sherlock are soul mates.” Molly snapped to face her. The smile on Mary’s face didn’t slip. “Don’t look at me like your heart isn’t jumping with joy. Molly, have you any idea what this means?” Mary was smiling widely.
“Nothing. It means nothing. He’s with Irene.” To Molly’s surprise, Mary laughed.
“See, this is why you have to come to dinner.”
“They had a row outside the Great Hall. I’ll give her credit; she doesn’t give a damn who hears her. She heard about the patronuses and apparently wasn’t that pleased about it.” Mary took a grape from the napkin and then returned to the story, “They’re finished,” she said with a mouth full of grape, “Sherlock called it when she insulted you.”
Molly’s heart burst with happiness and she sat their smiling to herself. After a minute, Mary checked her watch. “Damn! I’ve got to get to Gryffindor tower. See you tomorrow on the train. ” She got up and started walking.
“Wait! Mary, what do I do.” Mary turned and, walking backwards, shrugged her shoulders with a smile.
“Damn you!” But Molly couldn’t help but smile too.
Molly was walking towards one of the Hogwarts’ Express compartments when she heard a deep, rich voice call her name. She turned and looked up to see Sherlock. “I heard about you and Irene. I’m sorry.”
“What? Oh yea, that. Uh, Molly I wanted to er talk to you about the other day.”
“The patronuses? Sherlo-”
He leaned down and, cupping her face in his hands, kissed her. Sparks seemed to fly between them and Molly kissed him back. When they finally broke apart, they stared at each other for a moment, smiling. Finally, they went into the compartment. Neither of them could stop themselves from grinning.
Mary had been the only one in the compartment during the kiss, John and Lestrade having prefect duty, and continually looked up from her book and smiled at the two of them. John and Lestrade were a bit confused when they opened the compartment door to find Molly asleep on Sherlock’s shoulder, their hands intertwined. However, they quickly figured out what had happened, Mary having whispered it in the both of their ears, and joined in with the smiling.
When the train had finally made it to the station, Molly walked off the train, hand in hand with Sherlock. She had a moment where she realized she would probably never board the train again, but, then looking at the wonderful person next to her, she realized she had gotten all she needed from it. Hogwarts had given her everything she wanted. She was a freaking wizard, knew how to perform amazing spells, would be working at a magical hospital with John: St. Mungo’s, and had the most amazing friends (and now boyfriend) that she could have ever asked for. Yes, she loved Hogwarts.
Sherlock had to go find his sister before he met up with his parents and Molly’s parents were waving her over. The two of them looked at each other. After a moment Sherlock said, “Are you going to be in London tonight?”
“Would you like to have chips tonight?”
Molly smiled. “Yes. I’d love that.” He kissed her and began to walk away. Before he got too far, however, he turned to her.
imagine the class having a party or something and they’re playing twister and it gets outta hand
• first it’s just fun and only competition is between Alix and Kim
• There’s two or three mats so everyone’s playing
• Soon a real competition starts
• One mats girls the others boys (if a third it’s just whoever is left)
• everyone’s all over the place
• some people dropping out from embarrassing positions and others going hardcore
• lots of arguing
• Chloe steps on people’s fingers
• at one point with the boys someones like “hey check out the girls” and they all turn and look and they all go down because they slip in shock because to a bunch of hormonal teen boys the girls look like they’re in some very sexual positions (Mari is face up with Ayla’s arms on either side of her waist with her shirt neck going down low while she’s in between her legs and Mari’s face is an inch from Alix’s boobs, who happens to be hovering over her)
• At one point Mari is right over Chloe and slowly does a push up to try and push Chloe into the mat bc she was talking trash to her
• Sabrina lasts surprising long
• Rose dropped out on the second move
• Juleka and Mylene drop out around five
• Nath and Ivan at six
• Chloe plays dirty (stepping on hands and hair, trash talking, blowing on necks) while Lila trys to flirt to make others slip up
• Boys are elbowing each other all over the place (they’re bigger than the girls so there’s less maneuvering room)
• Adrien wins his first round ever
• Adrien is really good and Nino’s mad about it
• Final girls round is: Alix, Mari, and Lila
• Final boys is: Adrien, Kim, and Max
• It comes down to Alix, Mari, Kim, and Adrien
• Eventually Kim slips and takes Alix down with him
• This leaves Adrien and Mari
• after two more spins Alya takes the spinner from Rose
• “final two! How bout you say we mix it up and do individual spins?” Everyone’s like “yeah!” “Let’s do that” and Mari’s like internally “Alya NO!!”
• cue deliberate embarrassing/close positions
• Mari over Adrien with her face RIGHT above his chest
• Adrien over top of Mari and she can feel him breathing on her neck
• Mari with one leg over him and having to flip over him because she’s falling off the mat
• Her face being so red but Adrien thinking it’s from exertion
• His face is red for the same reasons
• Both sweaty
• Mari huffing into his ear bc her head is in the space between his head and shoulder while on top of him by two centimeters and. He. Can’t. Take. It. Anymore. And crumbles to the floor
• Mari in complete shock she won
• Adrien rolling over and telling her “good game Marinette. Congratulations.” Then she collapses next to him
• They’re so tired they just lay there panting for a few min while everyone is lining up for game 2 (minus Alix and Kim, they’re still tired so they’re the spinners)
• Mari only plays two more rounds. One just to defeat Nino and another because it was just Rose and Nath on a mat bc they’ve dropped out
• Nath drops out from the pressure of being that close to Mari (she was over his stomach while he was upside down and her shirt rode up)
• Adrien plays one more round with Juleka, Mylene and Alya but Chloe butts in and he “falls” bc Chloe is taking the fun outta it
• Lila joins after he drops out just so she can crush Chloe
• Later that night Alya sends a bunch of pics in the group chat of the party
• a lot of them are the Mari Adrien showdown
• Both of them save all those pics
• Plagg makes unnecessary comment about it (“ohhh you must’ve really liked being that close to her huh?” “Did you like losing to her that bad?”)
• Adrien gets defensive
• It’s the only thing he thinks about as he falls asleep (“maybe I can challenge her to a rematch…”)