#and she knows she will forever be dead to him

[matchpointfaist]

request!! Divorced! Art and controversially young gf reader where she makes him feel like a man again after years of being emasculated and humbled by tashi, tennis and everything else!!

i wasn’t always a cynic, it’s just i’ve been bought and sold

pt 1/3 in my challengersversary x luke hemmings release today! <3

divorced! art x his controversially young gf <33

love this sm!! tw for smut, age gap, size kink if you squint

everyone knew art donaldson. he was a legend, a celebrity in the tennis world, a star from the minute he’d stepped foot out of stanford and onto the professional circuit. you didn’t know much about tennis, really. you’d watch matches occasionally with friends or your parents, background noise for whatever occasion. but when he played, you watched. you paid attention, listened to the little grunts that left his lips with each swing of the racket, the passion he displayed every single match, even when you could see how exhausted he was, when he had to tape up his shoulder between sets. he made the sport look like something more, a dance or love, or something in between. he was graceful, on fire, glowing.

you also knew his wife, tashi. everyone did, heard the tragedy of her injury, the trajectory of her career ended with a single jerk of her knee. it was sad, you knew. she had the sort of dead eyes someone only got after years of chasing something they’d never have again, empty as she watched her husband move across the court, only sparking with something close to light when he won. you felt bad for her, sure, but you felt worse for him. forever forced to live in his wife’s shadow, forced to spend every moment of his life chasing after a trophy she’d once strived for.

when news of the divorce broke, the tennis community was alight with rumors, scandal and accusations running rampant through each word published about the subject. you didn’t know, that wasn’t your circle, but everyone was talking about it. you eventually heard the news from people magazine, picking it up off the shelf as you waited in line to checkout at the grocery store, curiosity lacing your features. ‘art donaldson and tashi duncan divorced after 8 years of marriage. who’s to blame?’

a few hours and some google searches later, you’d discovered that allegedly she’d had an affair with another player, that art had caught them together at some hotel in new york. his face was plastered online, cheeks red and eyes bloodshot as he pushed passed paparazzi to his car, blonde hair covered by a dark hoodie. he looked so far from the art you’d seen on the court. long gone was the bright eyed passion you’d seen years prior, back when you were in the bleachers with your parents. he was tired, more so than you’d ever seen him, worn down in the way only people in love could be. was he, you wondered, truly in love with her? or was it all a front, a long standing facade for the public?

you didn’t know where he ended up, if he’d gone back home (wherever that even was), or was still in new york, waiting for more tournaments. you assumed, honestly, that he’d drop all of his upcoming matches. or worse, more permanent, retire. you were in the city, staying in some overpriced hotel your parents paid for while you met them for a small vacation, a weekend spent museum hopping and dining out. when you headed out for the day, you could hardly even get out of the lobby, camera flashes filling every spot of your vision and constant chatter filling your ears. that’s when your eyes fell on him.

art was just feet away, hoodie drawn up as he checked in, his hands trembling when he passed the concierge his card. you knew you shouldn’t say anything, knew he was overwhelmed enough, but maybe that’s what drew you to him. as he turned for the elevators, you stopped him, smiling up at him unsurely, “art donaldson?” “yeah,” he wasn’t rude, not even when his jaw clenched, “sorry, kid, i just need to get up to my room,” “right, of course,” you smiled, nodded, “sorry about the crowd. goodnight,” he gave you a once over before disappearing between the metallic doors of the elevator, shuttling up to a room you’d surely never see. you shook it off, kept your head down as you pushed through the crowd of paparazzi, and went about your day. his face stayed in the back of your mind, though, even as you wandered the halls of the moma, even as you sat for dinner with your parents. his eyes haunted you, the shell of the man you’d once watched echoing through your mind.

later that night, when you couldn’t sleep, the sounds of the city too much for you, you went down to the hotel bar. your cardigan was pulled tight around the satin dress you’d worn out earlier, giving you a semblance of comfort as you slid onto a barstool, ordering a glass of wine and opening up the paperback you’d brought down. you heard a voice next to you, quiet and gravelly as they ordered a vodka soda, and you glanced up as you felt the air shift, the barstool beside yours slid out enough for someone to sit. “hi again,” your eyes fell on him, on the unease in his posture. “oh, hi,” he looked at you through his lashes, quickly straightening his posture, clearing his throat, “i’m sorry for earlier, it was hectic,”

“it’s okay,” you waved a dismissive hand, “i’m surprised to see you staying here, i thought someone like you would stay in a private villa or something,” “someone like me?” the words sounded like they caught in his throat, “what does that mean, exactly?” he was defensive, rigid all over, muscles taut with obvious tension. “just someone as famous as you, that’s all,” you said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder despite your better judgement, “i’m sorry about the divorce,” his eyes fell to where your hand rested, his teeth working at his bottom lip, “i don’t want to talk about that,” “of course,” you nodded, “we don’t have to talk at all, if you’d rather be left alone. i just wanted to be polite,” you pulled your hand away, resting it on the cool wood of the bar. “no,” it came out quick, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it at all, “no, i- i’d like to talk,”

he was hesitant, opening up to you in stages, telling you about stanford and then eventually tashi, and then eventually the divorce, about all the fallout he’d been dealing with since. he was soft spoken, but you could tell there was a hardness beneath the surface, a stern interior begging to be let out for once. you laughed at all his half hearted jokes, smiling and nodding when he over explained things you honestly already knew, but loved to hear about regardless. one drink turned to four, and he was red faced and smiling at everything you said, his hand resting over yours on his forearm. “how old are you, anyway?” he asked finally, when the alcohol had finally rendered him down to admit his attraction to you. “21,” you smiled, “lemme guess yours?” “oh, jesus,” he ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head, “yeah, knock yourself out,”

you trailed a fingertip down his arm, “mm, 29?” “32,” he replied, like it pained him to admit, “much too old for you,” “i’m old enough to make my own decisions,” you argued, “besides, don’t all athletes keep a younger girl around? thought it was part of your handbook or something,” you teased, one hand trailing up to toy with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “well yes, but i shouldn’t be here alone with you,” “why?” you pouted, “i’m old enough to know what i want. what i like,” “yeah?” his voice was hoarse, “and what’s that?” “older guys strong enough to take care of me,” you hummed, eyes sparkling, “you, in particular,”

he didn’t think of tashi when he pulled you to the elevator, pressing the button for the penthouse suite, his hands barely leaving your waist. he didn’t think of the way that she’d treated him when you attached your lips to his neck, sucking and biting like you were hungry for it, for him. he didn’t think of the constant pressure, of the nights he couldn’t perform, as you slid your hand down to the front of his joggers, wrapping your fingers around his length through the fabric, your lips finding his. he focused on you, on the way your eyes glazed over with lust, your lips parted and glossy. he focused on the warmth of your skin against his, the desperation fizzing between the two of you, as you stumbled off the elevator and into his room.

you were soft, pliant in a way she never had been, needy and loud and wide eyed, looking up at him from the mattress like you were worshipping him, like you were tracking his every moment. you reached for his waistband, eager and enthusiastic as you pulled down his boxers, and for once in his recent life, he didn’t shy away from the pleasure, didn’t feel guilt immediately after satisfaction. you whined around him like it made you feel good to get him off, your tongue circling his tip, his eyes rolling back and his hands finding their way to your hair, holding you tight. “feel so good, baby,” he panted, eyes shut tight, “god, just like that,”

he fucked your throat, thighs twitching with tension. he thought, distantly, that he couldn’t remember the last time someone had done this for him. tashi never had, said it was demeaning, but she was always quick to pull him between her thighs after an argument, his tongue working out apologies that she never would have accepted if he’d merely spoken them. he was close- too close- already, and he pulled out of your mouth with a groan, a trail of spit connecting from his tip to your lips. you pouted, brows knit, “why’d you stop?” “need to fuck you,” he mumbled, leaning down to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips.

you made a soft, surprised sound as he flipped you over, your dress falling away sometime between the kiss and him planting your face into the mattress, your ass in the air. “is this okay?” he asked, shuddering as he trailed his cock along your clit, a soft whine muffled by the mattress. “yes,” you nodded, leaning up just enough for him to hear you, “m on the pill, don’t worry,” that was all he needed to hear. he held your hips tight as he bottomed out inside of you, groaning at the way you felt around him, tight and warm and welcoming in a way he hadn’t feel in years. “oh, baby,” he groaned, leaning down to let his weight fall onto you, fucking into you slow and steady, dragging it out, “feel so good,” you looked so small underneath him, his hands enveloping your frame, making him even crazier. your sounds were muffled by the mattress, but each time you leaned up for air, your breathless moans filled his senses, making that heat in his stomach even hotter.

you rocked back against him, fucking yourself on his cock, and he nearly came right there. “yeah? you like that?” his voice was hoarse, akin to a growl, as he brought a hand down against your ass. you clenched around him as the smack rang through the otherwise quiet room, “oh, art,” he could hear it even through the blankets. “that’s my girl,” he murmured, fucking into you harder, his grip tightening on your hips, “god, gonna make me cum, baby,” you sped up at that, your skin slapping against his, desperate and unrelenting. “oh, fuck,” he threw his head back as he came, filling you up, his hips twitching, “good girl, baby, fuck,”

you whined when he pulled out, glancing over your shoulder at him, your cheeks red and mascara smeared. “you weren’t done?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “you want more, hm?” “please,” you mumbled, eyes wide, “just wanna finish,” “i got you, baby,” he smiled down at you, brushing a lock of hair from your face before helping you roll over, spreading your legs as you laid on your back, “god, made a mess of you,”

he slid two fingers inside of you, pumping them slowly, cursing under his breath as he watched them come out slick with his own cum, “you’re so fucking pretty,” you let out a soft moan at that, tightening around his fingers. he rubbed at your clit with his thumb, curling his fingers up against that spot that had you mewling, hips bucking beneath him. “come on, come on my fingers. gimme a show, pretty girl,” he murmured, talking you through it, watching your every reaction. you came moments later, eyes squeezed shut, rutting against his hand as your thighs trembled. “there you go,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to your knee, slowing his fingers before gently pulling out. he reached up, watching with lidded eyes as you sucked his fingers into your mouth, lapping up the slick coating them. “god,” he groaned, “you’re so dirty,”

“mm,” you giggled, reaching up and pulling him down to you, kissing his cheek, “just for you,” “yeah? you gonna be all mine?” he grinned, kissing your forehead. he didn’t stop to think of the implications, of the recent divorce, of the media circus if he stepped out with a girl 12 years younger than him. it didn’t matter, not when you curled up against him, so sweet and complacent. he wrapped an arm around you, smiling to himself when you rubber your cheek against his bicep, a soft, content smile on your lips. “i’ll wake you in the morning,” he murmured, “night, baby,”

the next morning, he went down in the elevator with you, leading you back to the room you’d been staying in just beside your parents. “i’ll see you tonight?” you asked, smiling and hopeful. he nodded, kissing your forehead quickly, “i’ll text you when i get in from my match, promise,” “mm, good,” you giggled, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, “win for me?” for once, it didn’t feel like a punishment, or a threat. it just felt sweet. “yeah, baby. i’ll win for you,”

six months later, the two of you were on the cover of every magazine cover, tennis and otherwise. his pretty, albeit controversial, young girlfriend. he’d long forgotten the way tashi had once looked down on him. you looked at him like he held the moon and stars, like you were helpless without him. anything you needed, he gave you, and all you had to do was love him. that part always came easy.

[cryingpariah]

(The incredible Sneak-Wave Pirates belong to the equally incredible @inzendino !)

Jackie: Hello Hello!

Rein: If you weren’t a living compass, I’d be concerned you were something of a stalker.

Jackie: Oh I’m much too busy to stalk anyone, though I admit, I've been dying for an introduction to be made with your newest member.

Hati (bursting through door to the deck): Captain! I smell another person on board!

Jackie: Y'know, if it wasn’t for the Mink's uncanny sense of smell I’d be offended by that statement.

Hati: :0! You sound like the nice lady from the phone! Are you really here this time?

Jackie (sitting on deck to be at eye level): Live and in person. Nice to meet you Hati. May I ask what exactly you were smelling before?

Hati: You just don’t smell like anyone else on the ship! You smell like *sniffs* the wind, paper, ink and *pause, then sniff Jackie's bag* this one smells long.

Rein (staring at bag): Take this as a sign to clean your stuff more Jackie. Nothing in this world should smell long.

Hati (touching his snout): Maybe my nose is broken??

Jackie (patting Hati while sending a playful glare to Rein): Neither of those things are true. This bag is no ordinary bag so it lacks an ordinary smell. It’s eaten the Bottom-Bottom fruit and has become a Bottomless Bag. It can carry infinity.

Hati: :O!! That's so cool! Doesn’t that get heavy though?

Jackie: It is very cool! And not to worry, it’s also light as a feather regardless of its content. It’s quite literally the perfect accessory for a girl on the go and no Rein, it is absolutely not for sale.

Rein: Kohoko, am I that obvious! Just thinking about all the beri I could take with me…

Jackie (laughing): You have potentially the world's stealthy ship and a robot hand with almost half a thousand uses and you still need this bag? Does your greed know no end!

Rein: KOHOKO! OF COURSE IT DOESN’T!

Jackie: Hate to crush your dreams here but even if you could take it, you wouldn’t be able to use it anyway. The bag doesn’t open for anyone but the previous owner, who is dead of his own volition, and me.

Rein: Can’t believe you're presenting a master thief something that’s never been opened and not expect me to go for it.

Jackie (standing up) : I’m fully expecting it, just don’t want you to get your hopes up. Here are the ground rules: You have until I finish my lunch break (hour and a half) to open it, you may get assistance from your crewmates and weapons/DF abilities are allowed but if you rip the leather I’m charging you for it.

Rein (nodding along): All fair. What happens if I do the impossible?

Jackie: Guess we have no choice then to fight to the (not) death for it. *pulls out lunch from bag and hands it to Rein* Have at it big guy.

Rein: Mono! Sol! Jolene! Need you on the deck pronto!

[Mild time jump]

Rein: …And we have until she finishes her lunch so let’s give it all we got!

Jolene: Sorry kid but we're definitely taking the infinite booze bag!

Sol: SHIKIKIKI! YOU MEAN THE INFINITE WEAPON BAG!

Mono: C-can it really hold anything anything like.. *gulp* people?

Jackie (unscrewing thermos): Could probably fit a giant in there but I have no idea if there’s air so I haven’t tried. Also your time start 27 seconds ago.

Rein: Alright, let’s do this!

[Montage of the Sneak-Waves trying to open the infinite bag while Jackie and Hati chat and split Jackie's lunch.]

Hati: Thank you for the food Miss Jackie!

Jackie: Not a problem, I’m just glad you liked it. Here *passes over a brownie* something sweet for after dinner.

Jackie (loudly speaking): I do believe your time is up!

[Jackie walks over to the now disheveled Sneak Waves and gently takes the bag, looking down to see Sol hanging off it with her teeth.]

Jackie: Kinda need this back now.

Sol: *indecipherable shouting*

Rein: It’s alright Sunny, we tried our best. *carefully wrenches Sol off the bag and into his hand*

Jolene/Jackie: 😏😏/👁️👁️

Sol (red-faced): SHIKIKI! STOP LOOKING AT ME!

Rein: I guess that’s it. My dreams of the infinite money bag are over…

Hati: *patting Rein's leg* Sorry Captain.

Jackie (putting thermos back into bag and walking off): Who’s to say really. If you were to get me another great story like Grand Tesoro, you might catch me during another lunch break.

Rein (perking up): Kohoko! You’ve got yourself a deal! Prepare for stories that’ll blow your mind!

Jackie: Counting on it Captain.

[ashwhowrites]

Hello hello my wonderful friend!

I’m not sure if you’ve done one of this trope before, you’ve written so many so it wouldn’t surprise me! But this may be a little different? I’d like to request sex pollen trope with Eddie and then some miscommunication and angst with a happy ending. ❤️❤️

I was thinking maybe they’re in the upside down and some weird plant/mist/etc down there does it? Or honestly it doesn’t have to be so literal. Whatever way to get the sex pollen effect you like best. But basically the whole older group is affected, whatever happens with the others is off-screen. Reader and Eddie have both been in love with each other forever but she doesn’t think Eddie likes her back and Eddie thinks she’s way beyond his league and wouldn’t ever want him. The sex pollen happens and then after when the group is embarrassed and getting ready to move past it a few comments are made by the others like “I’d never have done that in my right mind” or like joking comments about “let’s forget this ever happened”, “my eyes - I need bleach!” Basically trying to make light of it and move past it. And Eddie makes some kind of joking comment as well, sure that reader is mortified to have done that with her best friend. Reader is devastated because she hoped that it might have meant something and that he’d meant what he’d said to her during as much as she had meant what she said to him. She distances herself from Eddie which upsets him but he understands (thinks it’s because of the pollen stuff, not his comment). He’s talking to Steve about it one day, unsure what to do to fix it and Steve is confused. Apparently the others (minus Jonathon and Nancy or whoever you prefer to ship as an established couple) all just touched themselves with the exception of the established couple. The pollen didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do, it just made you crazy horny and more uninhibited. It also didn’t make anyone else say things, or compel them to say things. They were in control completely. Cue realization. Eddie goes to reader, confronts her (“did you mean what you said?”), she’s like please don’t do this, you said yourself *insert joking comment*. He reveals what he learned from Steve. Reader is embarrassed and blushing but realizes Eddie said some things during too. Actual confessions happen, happy ending, tears and kisses.

I feel like I did an awful job of explaining but don’t feel like you have to stick exactly to that mess above. I just wasn’t sure how else to describe the idea I’m going for? I’m just wanting the Ash spin on sex pollen trope that has your signature delicious miscommunication angst and then happy ending. Full creative control is yours obviously and I’ll be happy with it because you wrote it and you’re my fave 🥰

My first take on sex pollen trope so 🤞🏻 I hope I do it justice. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting ❤️

Mysterious plant

⚠️smut

It was summer break, Y/N, Robin and Eddie just graduated, Nancy and Steve needed a break from the work life, so they all decided to take a camping trip. They packed all their stuff into Eddie's van and hit the road before sundown.

The trip was everything they needed. Time in the sun, time away from responsibilities, and a whole lot of drugs and alcohol. They only spent a few nights there, before they headed back. None knowing they were bringing something back with them.

"Yo, is this poisonous?" Eddie asked as he reached forward to touch a strange looking plant.

"Don't touch it!" Y/N warned him, slapping his hand away. She looked down at the plant, truly having no idea what it was.

"Nothing I've seen before. But we are in the woods so we probably shouldn't touch it," Nancy said as she looked down at it.

They all surrounded it as they looked at it. A gust of wind came and ripped the roots right out of the ground. The dirt flew up and made them cough as it filled their nose.

"Welp, at least it's dead now," Robin said as she coughed. The strange plant caused them to cough for a good few minutes as they packed everything up.

As Eddie drove them back, he felt a little funky. His body was getting really warm and he could feel himself sweating.

"Is anyone else hot?" Y/N asked from the passenger seat. She cranked up the AC.

"Yes," Steve groaned as he uncomfortably shifted in his spot in the back. Nancy and Robin groaned in agreement.

Eddie couldn't help but speed as the air continued to get thick and hot.

~

"Finally!" Eddie groaned as he walked into his trailer. He quickly tore off his shirt, throwing it in the bathroom as he walked to his room.

Y/N ran a towel under the sink, putting it on her forehead as she tried to soak in the cold water. She closed her eyes as she took deep breaths. She heard Eddie walking around and the sound of him running the sink. She kept her eyes shut as she focused on not getting sick from how overheated she was.

Eddie splashed the water on his face, letting the droplets run down his naked chest. His mind was blank as all he could feel was how hot he felt.

He turned off the sink, quickly tying his hair up. "You want to change? I've got some boxers you can throw on," he asked. For the first time since leaving, he looked at her.

And this different feeling ran through his body. A shiver up his spine. He always had the hots for her, it was obvious she was attractive. But he'd never make a move on his best friend. Not after all the years they spent together and the friendship they created. He knew he had feelings for her, but his body was practically aching as he looked at her.

She opened her eyes to answer him, words stuck in her throat as he stood in just boxers. She gulped as her body seemed to have a mind of its own. She felt her face burn as she shifted, feeling a pool of wetness between her thighs. She knew for a fact it wasn't because of the heat.

She had a thing for Eddie for years. Started as a little schoolgirl crush and developed into something much more when they both went through puberty. He grew into his body and she's been dealing with falling in love with her best friend for a while now.

Eddie was nowhere near the type to be in a relationship. So, she figured not to bother wishing on a star he'd feel the same. She was always so good at keeping her composure, which is why she was shocked that she couldn't form words as he stared at her.

He must have felt something too. Because the longer they stared at each other, the longer their bodies craved each other.

"Uh, sure," she finally got out. She pushed herself away from the counter and walked to his room.

Eddie didn't feel in control of his own body as he followed her. He was a nice guy, he knew to give her privacy. But it was like he had no choice, in a trance as he walked in. She could feel his eyes on her, and she loved it. Normally, she would push him out but something in her wanted him to watch her.

She turned as her body smacked into his. She gasped as she could easily feel his hard cock against her. She looked into his eyes as she stripped off her shirt. She held her breath when his hands wrapped around her, palms against her back as he slid up and unhooked her bra.

She didn't feel nervous or self-conscious as the material fell to the floor. His hands skimmed to her hips, holding her softly. All his mind was focused on was the burning heat in his stomach and the throbbing of his cock. He wasn't worried about it being his best friend, he wasn't taking the time to be in awe of her naked chest in front of him, he needed to fuck her.

The only thing both of them could think about.

He was fast as he smashed his lips on hers. The simple kiss brought moans out of them as they gripped each other. The kiss was messy and desperate, trying to relieve the sexual tension they felt. But it only edged them on. Their tongues danced with each other as he pushed her down on his bed, keeping his mouth on hers.

She rubbed her thighs together, the amount of wetness she felt was indescribable. She had never been this wet before. She could physically feel her cunt throbbing and her clit ache to be touched.

When he pulled away, a line of spit connected them from his lips to hers. His eyes bored into hers and it was as they were communicating without words.

In quick movements, they stripped each other. Their hands were fast and uncoordinated as they tried to feel every inch of each other.

Her hands burned as they ran up his chest and then down his back. The feeling of his skin drove her insane and she wanted to feel more and more. He shivered as she touched him, his hands moving to her chest.

His cock twitched as he massaged her breasts, fingers rolling her nipples as precum leaked out of him. She thought having his touch would settle the fire in her stomach but it only fueled it more. They both understood there was no reason for foreplay, too impatient as their bodies ached.

Eddie could barely think straight as he shoved himself into her. Loudly moaning in bliss he felt her wrap around him. She whined as she felt him fill her up, wasting no time as she moved her hips.

He pressed his lips against hers as he began to thrust into her. He felt insane as he fucked her as fast and hard as possible. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as he hit every spot inside of her. Their sweaty bodies rubbed against each other.

He pulled away as he panted into her face. Both had no control as their moans filled up the room. He could feel his toes curling from the way his balls slammed against her. It was something he wanted for so long and it was way better than he imagined.

"More, please. I need more," she whined as she clawed at his back. His body felt perfect against her. She was addicted to every part of him. The smell of sex and sweat made her arch.

She shivered as he laughed. A dark mocking laugh.

"Yeah? Fucking beg for it, slut,"

She figured she'd gasp at his words but all that came out was a loud moan. She should have known he was dominant and rough.

"Fuck. Please! You feel so good. I just need more. I'll take anything just fuck, please, something," she begged.

Eddie kept his focus on fucking her as he reached for his nightstand. He yanked it open, mindlessly searching. Y/N felt her cunt pulse with excitement as he pulled out a small vibrator. She wasn't surprised Eddie would have sex toys hiding somewhere. She tried to make a mental note to look back at the nightstand in the future.

She jolted as he pressed it against her clit, the vibrations adding more pleasure.

"Moan for me, beautiful. I've dreamed of hearing you moan my name," he whispered as he flicked the vibrator on a higher level.

She gasped as her bundles of nerves reacted to the new vibration. She also loved knowing he thought about this before.

"Eddieeeeeee," she moaned as she clawed at his back. Her back arched as she felt herself cumming. She's positive this was a record speed for how quickly she needed to cum. "I need to cum, Eddie."

"Good girl, cum for me, baby. Let me fuck you through it," he encouraged as he allowed himself to get close. "Can I please fill you up?" He begged.

Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as she continued to cum. Her ears loved the sound of his choked begs.

"Yes,"

The second she said it, his stomach snapped. He tossed the vibrator to the side as he used his fingers. She squirmed as her clit burned. Moaning as he continued to fuck her.

"Oh my God, FUCK," she screamed as her cunt grew sensitive. Every thrust and circle pained her as another orgasm started building.

He dropped to his elbows as he gave his final thrusts, hot spurts of cum painting her insides. Both moaning at the feeling.

She figured the heat and burn would disappear, but nothing changed. Her cunt was soaked and now pulsing for more. Eddie noticed it within himself too, his cock already hardening inside of her.

He looked up at her, a sexy smirk as he slowly began to slide himself in and out of her. He watched her face to see how well she'd take him again. And he didn't see a slight bit of discomfort. She moaned, moving her hands down to his chest as she softly clawed.

"I'm not ready to be done with you, can you handle more?" He asked, halting his movements in case she wanted to be done.

"Yes, but I want to ride you," she admitted as she placed her palms against his chest and pushed. He slowly slid out of her.

A huge smile crossed his face as he dropped on his back, wrapping a hand around his cock. He slowly jerked himself as he looked at her. "You're breathtaking."

She blushed as she moved on top of him. She placed her hands on his hairy thighs and sank down on him.

"You'd kill me if you knew how many times I've thought of you in this position," he moaned as she began to bounce on him. He gripped her hips and helped her move her hips.

"I probably should but this feels too good to care," she moaned. Her body was feeling things she had never known before. She couldn't get enough of how amazing he felt inside of her.

He laughed, sitting up as he wrapped his arms around her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she used the new balance to bounce faster. He sucked on her neck, loving the taste of her sweat. She yanked out his hair, letting his curls fall on his shoulders.

"Why did we never think to do this before?" She asked as she shivered in pleasure. They could've been doing this for years at this point, instead of robbing themselves of how amazing their bodies worked together.

He released her neck as he pulled back to look at her. He was sure it was an in-the-moment comment, but he thought the same thing for months. "Didn't think you'd ever see me that kind of way."

Her hips slowed at the honesty in his voice. Her heart melted for him. She rolled her hips forward as she brought her arms around his neck. The closeness made the moment more passionate as she looked into his eyes. "I see you in the best kind of way."

He smashed his lips on hers, thrusting his hips up to fuck her as she moaned into the kiss

It didn't matter how much they touched each other. Or how deep he was in her. The burning desire for each other wasn't lessening. It was making them want it more and for it to never end.

She rocked her hips against him, feeling a familiar burn in her stomach. Eddie felt every strand of his hair soaked in sweat, sticking to his face.

"Fuck you're so beautiful, so wet, so perfect around me," he praised, biting his lip as he fucked up in her as hard as he could. "I could fuck you for the rest of my life."

Her heart pounded at his words. Breath hitching as she bounced on him. "Yeah? You promise?"

"Is that what you want? To be wrapped around my cock forever?" He whispered as her breath fanned his face. Her body reacted to him by squeezing around him. "Fuck do that again."

She repeated the action, loving how he let out a long moan. "Tell me you want it too," she whispered, her lips inches above his.

"I want you for the rest of my life," he admitted. He shocked himself by saying it but he meant it. "I think I'm in love with you."

She froze on top of him, blinking a thousand times. Did he just admit he was in love with her?

"No, I know I'm in love with you," he corrected. His hands ran up her back, holding the back of her head as he brought her lips against his.

She kissed him back. She moaned into his mouth as his left hand moved down to her clit. She pulled away, smiling in pleasure and bliss.

"I love you too," she confessed. Her forehead was against his as she felt her orgasm building. She rocked her hips against him, soaking in the feeling of his fingers on her clit. "Make me cum."

"My pleasure," he smirked, cockily circling her clit as she began to fall apart.

She felt her stomach burn with the familiar feeling, she leaned down and sank her teeth into his shoulder as she came again. Eddie growled out at the feeling, loving the harsh sting as she broke his skin.

~~~

Eddie woke up to the sound of a phone ringing. He rubbed his eyes as he looked around. His room was a mess, everything scattered everywhere, shit was falling off his walls, and his desk was no longer together properly.

The ringing continued, and Eddie felt a body next to him move. A reminder of who helped him create the mess. He gulped as he looked over at her. She was still asleep, on her stomach as she faced the other direction. He slowly got up, hissing as he stood up straight. A burning sensation ran all over his back, he wrapped his sheet around him and he practically limped as he walked to get the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Eddie. I talked to Robin and Nancy, and we all think something was up with that plant. We are going to meet up to talk about it, can we meet at your place? Call Y/N too," Steve said. Eddie agreed to meet them and hung up.

He walked towards his room, Y/N awake as she held a blanket around her body as she looked for her clothes.

"Morning, um, Steve wants us to meet here to talk about something," back to his shy self, Eddie turned around to give her privacy.

"Okay, yeah. Just gonna go get ready!" She squealed as she gathered her clothes and ran towards the bathroom. Once the door slammed, Eddie changed into new clothes. His body was sore which made everything harder, he was curious if her body was in any pain.

He held his shirt in his hand, waiting for her to exit the bathroom.

"Oh! You um, still are...not dressed," she said as she awkwardly tried not to look at his naked heavily marked chest. She felt her face burn as she saw all the hickies and scratch marks.

"Yeah, I kinda need help with my back. Could you put this on me?" He stood up and handed her the small tube of ointment. She gasped as he turned, his back far worse than his chest.

"Oh fuck, is it bad?" He asked upon hearing her gasp. She was embarrassed for what she left behind, but also enjoyed having her mark all over him.

"Just a lot of them. This might sting," she warned as she began to rub the ointment along his skin.

Just like that, the same fire burned in his stomach as she touched him. But this time, his brain was awake and active. Making him think logically that whatever happened yesterday only happened because of that damn plant.

He couldn't get excited by the feeling of her hands rubbing his back. Or how her breath hit his skin and made his spine straighten.

After she finished, he turned around. As they stared at each other, the air got thicker. She blew out a nervous breath.

"Can we talk quickly? I want to talk about some things we said last night." She asked

"Maybe after?" Eddie asked, feeling like he needed to throw up. He was nervous about what she wanted to say and he wanted time to deal with it.

"Um, yeah," she nodded. Her stomach turned with anxiety. She didn't want to wait. She wanted to clear the air about what happened and she needed to know how he felt about it. She turned around and walked out to his living room, needing to be out of his room and the aftermath of themselves.

Eddie took a few deep breaths and walked out. He walked to his front door and left it unlocked. He wanted to sit next to her but he felt terrified. So, he sat on the opposite side. Y/N felt the blow to her chest but tried not to show it. They never sat this far apart. The air was awkward as they sat in silence.

A loud commotion came from outside as everyone traveled in. Steve, Robin and Nancy all stood in front of the couch.

Steve awkwardly coughed as he started, "So, Nancy and I did some research about the plant we saw. I'm going to be blunt, I did things I wish I never thought of."

Y/N scrunched her face, uncomfortable with the idea of her friend sleeping with each other.

"I can't even look at myself," Robin laughed as she tried to make light of the situation.

"Moral of the story," Nancy said as she rolled her eyes, "It was a sex pollen plant. And we are moving past it and nothing happened!"

"Sex pollen?" Y/N questioned out loud, "Never heard of it."

Eddie was silent as he listened. It was confirmed that the plant was the reason all of that happened. He knew he wanted to do it because he liked her. But she did it because of the damn pollen.

"Wanna go get food?" Steve asked as he clapped. Everyone nodded, ready to move on from the awkward conversation.

Y/N grabbed Eddie's hand before he walked out, "We still need to talk."

"It was the pollen, it's okay. We can move past it like they all did," he explained. She dropped his hand and accepted his answer. Clearly, there was nothing else behind what happened.

She was absolutely shattered. And it hurt that he refused to talk about it. He admitted he was in love with her and now wanted to pretend it never happened.

~~~

A few weeks passed and Y/N tried to be okay with not expressing how she felt to Eddie. She tried to fake it and return to normal. It seemed everyone else did.

Robin, Nancy, and Steve didn't seem like anything happened between any of them. Y/N was never going to ask for details so she had no idea who got involved with who, and she was fine with not knowing.

Y/N walked up to the small diner as the gang was meeting for breakfast. She walked in and everyone was already sitting. She slid in on the end next to Eddie.

"I wish I could bleach my eyes so I wouldn't have the vision of it anymore," Steve laughed. The table laughed with him and Y/N wasn't sure what the topic was.

"I know. I'm ashamed of my own body. I didn't think it could do all it did," Robin shivered.

"Me too. I feel like I can never go to church again," Nancy groaned as she covered her face.

Y/N figured it was about the recent event they all moved on from, except her.

"All I know is if I see that plant again, I'm walking away because I never want to experience that again. Horrified from that night" Eddie laughed. The table joined in but Y/N felt a kick to her gut.

She hugged herself as she felt embarrassed. Was having hours of sex with her that horrible? She'd be fine to do it all over again but that's where they were different. She was in love with him and he got infected. She meant what she said and confessed, and it was all a joke to him.

"What about you? You haven't said anything about what you did," Steve said as he looked at her. Y/N felt her body burn as everyone turned to look at her.

"I'd prefer not to talk about it," Y/N said. She didn't want to say anything after the horrific comment Eddie made.

Eddie gave her a side glance, slightly relieved she didn't say anything. He was sure she was horrified by what she did with him. And wanted to take back everything she said. Which is why he kept hiding from the conversation he knew she wanted to have.

They accepted her answer, finally moving on from the topic.

~

The second Y/N got home she allowed herself to cry in the comfort of her room. She admitted everything to that boy and he wanted to erase the night from history. She felt crushed and heartbroken.

She should have known Eddie wouldn't touch her that way without a substance. She should have known he wasn't the type to say how he felt and that everything he said wasn't true.

She hated that she was the only one who seemed to have true feelings about what she did. The rest of the gang clearly could move on. Eddie didn't mean anything, and she was stuck feeling everything.

~~~

Y/N had to distance herself a bit from Eddie because everything was still hurting. She couldn't face him knowing she meant everything she said and did. He'd probably laugh in her face if he knew that.

Eddie noticed the distance, but he understood why she needed it. She fucked the freak and now had to deal with the thought of it. He was disappointed that the events ruined their friendship because that's what he was scared of the most. He spent days ignoring how he felt for her so she didn't leave. And now, she is gone.

He went from spending every day with her to nothing at all for two straight weeks. He missed her.

He called Steve over for help, which meant he was desperate.

"Y/N has been a ghost to me for like two weeks. I don't want to rush her or anything, but I mean, we are all in the same boat. We all were infected by that pollen and did things with each other. But you three all moved on like nothing happened. How did you do it? How can I make it easier for her?" Eddie asked question after question.

Steve looked at him, confused, "Wait, did you two sleep with each other? Like as in you and Y/N had sex!"

"I don't understand how you are confused by that," Eddie rolled his eyes, "obviously we had sex otherwise there wouldn't be an issue!"

"Wow," Steve said, a slow smirk forming on his face, "you guys really fucked? Was she any good?"

"I'm about three seconds away from decking you in the face," Eddie growled, "You have Nancy, don't worry about how Y/N is."

Steve backed up from the threat but laughed at Eddie's clear jealousy. "Alright, calm down. Clearly, she's all yours; I got that. Nancy, Robin and I were all alone when we dealt with the pollen. I did research on it and everything. It's basically just a pollen that makes you crazy horny, barely able to satisfy it and that's why it continues on for hours. None of us had sex with each other. It doesn't make you desire whoever is with you. That's not how it works. So whatever you and Y/N did, came straight from your guys. Just with a push," Steve explained.

"But maybe it's because we were together when it happened! So we desired each other" Eddie tried to explain.

"I was with Nancy in the same car when I started to feel it. Touching her or sleeping with her never crossed my mind," Steve said as he crossed his arms. He leaned back against Eddie's couch, "You my friend are in love with her and that's why it happened."

"Woah now," Eddie laughed, "I never said anything about love."

Steve rolled his eyes but a playful smile on his face. "Don't bother trying to cover it. I told you, I did all the research. It doesn't make you feel anything you haven't already felt. And it doesn't make you say anything you didn't mean. Whatever happened between you two, happened because of how you guys already felt."

Eddie soaked in his words, his stomach fluttering as he thought about everything they said during their time together. "So, let's say she admitted to loving me and something like that. That's the truth? Not the pollen?"

"Bingo," Steve smiled as he leaned forward, "So, seriously, how was it?"

Eddie rolled his eyes, but a smile broke on his face. Steve shoved him as he saw the smile.

"You totally are into her!"

"Oh shut up!"

~

Eddie was terrified to face his feelings but he wasn't going to be the reason he lost her. The only way she's allowed to leave his life is by her decision. He'll never drive her there and he'll beg before she does.

All he had to do was admit he was in love with her. He was doubting himself, but losing her forever scared him more than any confession. He already had the suspicion she felt the same, if what Steve said was true. It gave him comfort he wouldn't be shooting in the dark.

He softly knocked on her bedroom window, the moon his only form of light. She took a deep breath as she flipped her lamp on. Only one person knocked on her window, and truthfully she missed him. She quickly got out of bed and walked over, unlocking it and allowing him inside. She shivered as she felt the cold night air, shutting the window.

"Well, at least you are prepared for me to stay. That has to be a good sign," Eddie tried to joke as she closed the window, instead of leaving it open for an early exit.

She smiled at him and walked to sit on her bed. "You don't have to be so nervous," she said as he stood in one spot. "You can sit. I won't bite you."

"Liked it last time you did," he joked back as he sat next to her. The joke landed flat as she awkwardly looked away. "Moving on. I just want to check on you. I understand things are a little weird for us. But I don't want you to think I'm not here for you."

Her heart swelled at his words, she turned to look at him with a soft smile. "I appreciate that. I'm sorry I've been weird. I just needed more time to move on. But I've missed my best friend."

He ignored the sadness he felt when she called him her best friend. He was glad he was, but he wanted to be something more to her. A best friend that's in a boyfriend.

"Did you need more time to move on because you meant what you said?" He threw the question out there like a grenade. No warning as it landed in her lap.

She hugged herself, looking down at her lap. "We don't need to do this, Eddie." She heavily sighed, "You said it yourself that we can move on like they all did and I don't want to make you relive such a horrifying memory of what sex is like with me."

Eddie kicked himself as the words were tossed back at him. She remembered what he said; that meant it stuck with her, and he felt like an asshole.

"I found out from Steve that none of them had sex with each other. It was just us," he explained. That caused her to look at him.

She shrugged as she thought it over, "probably because we were with each other."

"That's what I said. But it turns out, the pollen makes you crazy horny and nothing else. Steve said everything we did and said was because it was already in our body, the desire and tension. The pollen was just a push."

She looked at him horrified, her body burning in embarrassment. "That was far more than a push!" She covered her face with her hands. She liked the idea of blaming the pollen for the crazy shit she did to her best friend. It was embarrassing enough to have a crush, but now she did every sexual fantasy she thought of with him, and it was because she wanted to.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to die more because he knew she loved him or because he knew she wanted to fuck him.

"But isn't it nice to know we wanted to?" He asked, trying to remove her hands but she wouldn't budge.

"No, Edward. I want to cry in a hole and disappear. Because now, you know how I feel and I can't even blame it on that fucking plant!" Then it hit her, he couldn't blame the plant either.

She slowly removed her hands as she looked over at him. He was bent down as he tried to look into her eyes. His brown eyes looked at her with worry and softness.

"You...you said things too!" She gasped, pointing at him. "You! You told me you think about me sexually all the time. And that you-"

Eddie covered her mouth with his hand, "Yeah, I was there, gorgeous. I don't need you to remind me." He blushed embarrassed. "I meant the other things I said too."

She had never seen Eddie so serious. Not a single twinkle of tease in his eye or a twitch of his mouth. He slowly removed her hand.

She couldn't believe it. Years spent thinking about how good they'd be together, how much more love she could offer him if they went past friends. And it was truly something that could happen. She teared up at the thought. All the hurt she felt pining after him and it all was worth it.

He cupped her face as the first tear dropped. He wiped it away, licking his lips. "Are you okay?"

"Do you want to do this?" She whispered, looking down at his lips.

"Yes," he said without hesitation. Then finally, his lips pressed against hers. She eagerly kissed him back. She had been craving to do this again and she figured she never would. But fuck, she's glad she was wrong.

Eddie softly pushed her on her back as he crawled on top of her. The kiss deepened as he moved his hands down her body, swinging her leg around his waist.

She ran her fingers through his hair, head in the clouds. She pulled away, moving her hands to rest on his shoulders as she looked up at him.

"I love you," he whispered as he leaned in to press his forehead against hers. His eyes staring into hers, his warm hands on her hips.

"I love you too," she smiled, leaning up to softly kiss his lips.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123 @emxxblog

[leaawrites]

Later

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: part 2 to Now Or Never

Warnings: angst, fluff, I hate this but anyway...

Wordcount: 1.2k

Masterlist, F1 Masterlist

The lights were already bleeding together as she stepped into the club Lando had told her to meet him at. The music could be heard from outside the venue, but inside it was deafening. Loud club classics coming from where the DJ was standing above the crowd and every speaker that was scattered across the room.

Near the entrance, Lando was waiting with a drink ready for her. Greeting her with a hug that lingered a second longer than casual. His voice already drooping a bit as he guided her to where the others were waiting.

"I've got this for ya," he said, giving her the drink in hand. "Max said yer liked it." His British accent becoming clearer with the alcohol. "We're this way."

Taking her hand in his, they pushed through the crowd, Lando stopping all too often to greet someone or take in their congratulations on the good season. Introducing her with her full name.

"She's the reason I look good in the media," he'd say, pulling her into his side with a smile plastered on his face.

Heat coming over her when his lips grazed the top of her head.

"I'm only telling what's true," she answered then, making him laugh to the point he doubled over.

Walking further into the room Lando now had his arm wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her close as he made sure she safely stayed by his side.

"Look who's made it for once," Max said, standing up from his place next to Kelly to greet her.

"Hello, Mr. 4 times World Champion," she greeted him back, gratefully accepting the hug he initiated.

"You're gonna put in a good word for me after what I've read so far?" He asked, pulling back and sitting back down. Arm wrapped around Kelly's shoulders.

"Always," she answered, trying to walk over to the empty places on the couch. Her movement stopping by Lando’s fingers tightening around her hand, pulling her back towards him again.

"What about me?" He asked, already feeling left out. A pout on his face. Big, wide blown pupils looking at her, his bottom lip slightly sticking out.

"As if I ever talk bad about you," she said back, patting his shoulder in assurance. Her hand quickly flying up to cradling his cheek. Fingers tracing over his jaw. Taking a sip from the glass he gave her at the start of the night.

That's how the night went on, filled with drinks, talking and lingering touches that should mean less than they did. His hands on her waist as they danced to the vibrating music, his breath against her skin as he leaned closer to her ear for her to understand him, her head head on his shoulder and her legs thrown over his lap as the night started to wear her out.

"You wanna go back?" Lando asked, drawing shapes on her hip where his hand laid.

"No, just a tired phase, I'll get over it in a bit and be wide awake and then you'll have to put up with my hyper-active for another few hours," she said, slurring her words more than one does at a decent amount of alcohol in their system.

"I wouldn't mind that, you know?" Lando said, his eyes flying over her face, down to her lips. "Forever."

His eyes stayed fixated, not noticing the way her eyes lost the tired look in them. But he noticed the corners of her lips moving down into a frown.

"What do you mean?" She asked, sitting up straighter. His hand slipping from her waist down on the leather of the couch.

"Nothing." Looking away from her, he moved his body further towards the wall next to them. The side of her body that was pressed against his suddenly falling cold. Like dead skin.

"Lando," she started, his eyes not looking at her but the liquid swirling in his glass. "I wanna go home."

Nodding his head, he stood up without another word,walking towards the exit of the club, saying his goodbyes, checking that she was always behind him. Close enough to keep her safe, far enough away to not touch her by accident.

The air outside was cold, the neon lights not keeping them warm like they used to on other occasions. People were still lining up at the entrance to the place they just left.

Walking side by side, the hotel they stayed in was just 15 minutes away.

Watching him walk in front of her she knew that it wasn't nothing he had to say. It was obvious by walking past him. Kicking rocks under his feet, his hands shoved in his pockets, sunglasses pulled over his glass-like eyes.

Taking a few quick steps to catch up with him,she slipped her hand into his, pulling him back under the streetlight, bright neon lights all around them.

"What was that inside?" She asked, not letting him pull away from her grip.

"A party. People were dancing and drinking like us," he answered the obvious. Still not looking up from his shoes.

Rolling her eyes at his answer, she tried being more specific with her question. She knew how good he was at dodging questions, she'd seen it happen all too often. It just never happened to her. "What did you mean when you said 'forever'?"

"Nothing," he said again, seemingly sobering up quick enough to organize his thoughts. "Just a slip up."

"What kind of slip up?" She asked again, not letting him turn away. "Lando, just tell me what you wanted to say. It can’t be that bad. I know the worst people say about you, what could possibly be so bad you can’t tell me?"

Taking in a deep breath, he finally looked at her. All too aware that she wouldn't let loose until she had an answer that satisfied her. One that was the truth. It was her job after all.

"I thought about, since we're in Vegas and all, that if I somehow didn’t lose the championship, I'd ask you to marry me," he confessed, his thumb drawing circles over her hand. Eyes widening at his answer, he continued talking, "It was just a drunk thought I had whenever I couldn’t think straight, don’t think much of it."

"Lando, I barely know you outside of interviews."

"It's insane I know, stop thinking about it." Trying to walk once more, he tried ignoring the small smile pulling on her lips.

"Lando," she said again, tucking him back in. Faces inches apart now. "I barely know you."

"I know, that's what you just said- could you stop making me look stupid?" He rambled on, not quite catching up to the intention behind her words.

"You seemed nice enough to ask a girl out a couple minutes ago. Guess things have changed, huh?"

"You wanna go out with me?"

"That's not how you ask that question to receive a yes, you know?"

"Can I take you out?"

"I'd love to."

"Let's see how I feel about saying yes in a year or two, okay?"

[voguesriot]

NOT A LOT / JUST FOREVER ✹ sebastian sallow

( summary ) when harry potter said he wanted a reason to skip potions, he didn’t expect to wind up developing a kinship with a portrait of a young witch by the kitchens, but how can he complain when her smile is just as welcoming as her stories?

( pairing ) sebastian sallow x female!reader (mc), platonic!harry potter x female!reader, small mention of ominis gaunt x anne sallow

( notes/warnings ) set during the philosophers stone and the end of the deathly hallows. this was supposed to be a mostly seb/minorly harry fic but it kind of inverted because i love harry potter and want to wrap him in a warm blanket and keep him safe forever. also!!! this is the first proper fic i’ve written in over a year so pls be kind 🤍. angst but mostly fluff! reader assuming a motherly role with harry! low-key sebastian assuming a fatherly role with harry too! canon-compliant violence mentions! minimal usage of y/n! not proofread!

Harry Potter had known torment like no other. Stood little over 5 foot tall, he had felt blistering rage poured from callous hands and the bitter loneliness nipping at his guts. But none of it, not the broom cupboard, not the scar, would be worse that enduring another double potions class.

And so, the boy who lived took a left turn down a spiral staircase instead of carrying on to the dungeons and followed the candlelit corridors until he found himself facing a dead-end. It was, he thought, maybe the most peaceful part of the castle he’d seen in his two months of admittance. There was no cobwebbed ceiling corners, no scathing suits of armour, no ghastly ghosts taunting his every breath. The walls were barren except for a lone portrait frame displayed on the far wall. Harry walked closer.

It was an empty frame, holding only a background of red curtains and a plush sofa. He wondered who that frame was meant to home and worried his footsteps had frightened them off. He turned to walk away, to find a shadowy area by one of the far courtyards where he could waste the rest of his two hours. But just as he did so, back already to the wall, he heard a gentle voice.

“Are you lost, sweetheart?”

Harry’s head whipped to the frame once more with such speed he wouldn’t be shocked to feel a sharp pain in the morning. Sat on the sofa was now a witch who looked to be older than him, if only by a few years. She wore a white collared shirt with a red tie and a long grey skirt beneath dark brown overcoat. There was a scar on her left cheek that Harry believed he’d find intimidating on anyone else, but something in the way she smiled at him, the softness of her eyes, told him he’d struggle to find an off-putting thing about her.

He hadn’t even realised he’d been staring, lips parted, question ignored, until she let out a small laugh. Harry Potter had been laughed at before, he’d been laughed at before he’d even been born, he knew what it meant for two people to share a look and a giggle when you speak — or, more aptly, don’t speak. But the insult he was accustomed to never came. He felt no wave of shame, no cheeks reddened with embarrassment. In a strange act of fate, he found himself laughing with her.

“I’m Y/n Sallow. Pleased to make your acquaintance…” She paused and nodded for him to introduce himself.

“Harry. Harry Potter.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “I’ve heard many things about you. It’s good to put a face to the name. So, Harry, my question still remains; are you lost?”

“I have double potions.”

She laughed again and so did he. “I see. You know, I remember your professor when he was about your age. Terribly frightened boy, but wildly genius.”

“He hates me for something that isn’t my fault.”

“People tend to channel anger when their other feelings are too confusing. It’s easier for them. But I know how you feel, love. Believe me.”

“Nobody knows how I feel.” Harry didn’t like how self-effacing he sounded, but to him it was mere truth. Nobody else had lost in the same ways he had and been forced to live with its guilt, nobody else was thrust into the war of a world they didn’t understand.

“You only say that because you haven’t taken History of Magic yet.”

Harry looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“Get comfortable.” The boy took off his robe and folded in the floor, sitting atop it and crossing his legs, elbows resting on his knees.

For the next three hours, Harry paid no need to the fact he had missed a charms lesson, as he found himself immersed in the stories she told. Of long-dormant repositories of ancient magic, of goblins, and poachers, and graphorns, and plight, the scale of what he faced seemed not dwarfed, but levelled by that of her own.

She told him of the fears she felt as she entered the Great Hall, how lonely she was on her first day, and Harry felt his heart swell at the fortune of meeting Ron as early as he did. When he said this, she smiled and said Ron reminded her of an old friend, a former Hufflepuff and renowned magiczoologist.

“She said she didn’t have many friends before I arrived, which caught me by such surprise, because I believed her to be one of the kindest witches I had ever met. One of the bravest too. In fact, she led me on one of the most remarkable adventures of my life…” She said, a melancholic smile on her face as she talked of Golden Snidgets and centaurs.

As their second hour drew to a close, she brought her storytelling to a sudden halt. “Enough of me. Darling, how has Hogwarts been for you?”

Harry paused, having barely reflected on the question himself. “It’s been good.” A moment of silence. “I think.”

“You think?”

“It’s just…” His breath caught in his throat, as millions of thoughts came to mind but to words followed suit. “I just feel so out of place. I found out about magic two months ago, and suddenly everyone has these big expectations of me because of what happened when I was a baby.” She nodded in understanding and felt her heart break in her chest.

When you looked at him, you saw him not as a prodigal son or a budding star, but as the child he was. His glasses slightly crooked, almost hanging off his nose, his cheeks red and rosy, his eyes downcast. He looked a mirror of you, and you hated it with a ferocity you hadn’t felt in years.

It was supposed to end with you, the torment of children, the horror of destiny. You still remembered the terror you felt when you first touched that portkey, when Fig told you more of those iron-clad knights would follow, when the fate of a world you knew naught about was thrust upon your fifteen-year-old shoulders.

When Ranrok was defeated and you were told you’d be safe, you were lied to. The poachers still came in droves, angrier, smarter, fit to kill with the taste of your blood in their mouths. More loyalists subscribed to Ranrok’s ideals and strived off the image of your head mounted on a wall. There was always new monsters to fight, new people in need, new reasons to run away and forge a new life.

But you never did, you never took the bait. You knew that if you left, if you abandoned your responsibilities that eventually they would fall onto another you. Another child born with your gift, and they too would know true loneliness and fear and you could not let that happen.

You graduated and became a freelance cursebreaker. If people felt unsafe, you were the first port of call. You risked your life with the sole mission of preventing another child from filling your shoes. You did all this, and it meant nothing. It meant nothing because now, over a century later, a young boy is being punished for actions he didn’t commit, tormented for events out of his control.

Harry Potter was cut from the same cloth as you, and so, you listened.

The bell tower tolled and sent a shock down Harry’s spine. Was it lunchtime already? He stood up and dusted off his cloak. “Do you ever get lonely?” He asked. “All the other portraits have others around them.”

“I rarely dwell in this frame, to be honest. I have a few others around, there’s one by the Magical Theory classroom on the fourth floor of the Astronomy wing. That’s where I spend most of my time, but I’ve got two in Hogsmeade, another in a run-down hamlet southwest of here, even have one in America.” You gave him a sweet smile. “The portrait of the old potions professor, Aesop Sharp, sends word for me whenever he sees someone come down this hall. Say hello to him when you pass, will you?”

He nodded his head, halfway down the corridor before he turned around and hoped you hadn’t gone yet. “Thank you for this. Is it—” he paused again and took a deep breath, “is it alright if I come here again? If I can talk to you again?”

His heart pounded in his throat, caught with a fear of you saying no. Of laughing at him for finding such comfort in a mere conversation. Harry Potter had long since accepted that he’d never truly know the feeling of being cared for, being heard. He had made his peace with such a thing. He was a child now, but he’d grow. He’d grow in his own and he’d grow to be a kind man who cared for others with kindness never afforded for him. He was okay with this, but now that he’d met you, he knew he couldn’t live that way anymore.

He’d never had enough material things to be selfish over, but he’d be selfish now if he needed to. He needed this again, this feeling of being truly seen and understood.

Ever since he came to the wizarding world, Harry had been told he had his mother’s eyes, her kindness and warmth. Looking at you now, he figured you were the closest to her he’d find. In the softness of your gaze, he shed the weight of his worries.

You smiled again and nodded. “Tell dear Aesop to send word whenever you need me, darling.”

His feet felt lighter as they travelled up the steps, eagerly searching for a portrait he hadn’t noticed before until he was outside the potions classroom and read the golden plaque. Aesop Sharp.

The man had a gruff face with rugged stubble and scars on his chin. His lips quirked up with a thin veil of remembrance. “I take it she arrived on time?”

“She said to say ‘hi’. And thank you.”

“She thanked me?”

“I’m thanking you.” Aesop only hummed and nodded.

“There’s nothing to thank me for, boy. Other than the fact that your potions professor will be kept uninformed of your detour.” Harry’s cheeks flushed a deep red and Aesop let out what could almost be considered a laugh. “It’s best you run along now. The rest—the first—of your classes will drag on an empty stomach.”

“I was wondering when you’d return.” Sebastian teased from the frame. “Almost four whole hours on my own with only Weasley for company.”

As you joined Sebastian in the portrait, settling comfortably on the sofa he’d been sprawled across, his arm found a comfortable place around your shoulders, holding you close.

Garreth, whose portrait was on the corner wall to the left of yours by his request, let out a hearty laugh at that. “You say that as though you weren’t the one recount all the old days, Sallow. No need to try impress the lady, you fooled her years ago.”

“Don’t be rude, Garreth. It’s sweet he cares so much after all these years.” Poppy chided from her frame beside his, appearing just as Natty did across from her.

“Where’s Ominis?” You asked, expecting a quip from your dear friend.

“He went to visit Feldcroft. Said he missed the place and wanted to see how ol’ Victoria is holding up.” You smiled as Sebastian mentioned Ominis and Anne’s great-great granddaughter.

“It’s is sweet that they stay in such close touch.” You smiled. “We must visit again soon. Adam is still in London, I think. His daughter is starting Hogwarts next year. Same with Sarah’s son.” Your heart swelled at the thought of the family of your own.

“It’ll be nice not to be the only one here with family visits in the castle.” Garreth said.

“My boy will be nothing like your Percy.” Sebastian defended.

“If he’s anything like you, he’ll be exactly like the twins, though.”

“I heard Imelda gave them an earful last week after they almost blew up her frame by the Trophy Room.” Natty laughed. “They’re definitely Weasley’s.”

“There’ll be more of them than there is Ravenclaw’s with the way things are going.” Poppy commented. “A young boy this year, and a girl next?”

“What can I say, we’re family people! I heard Ron’s befriended the Potter boy.” At this, your ears perked up.

“Harry?”

“Uh-oh.” Sebastian taunted, toying with a stand of your hair. “Something tells me you’ve taken someone under your wing again.”

You pinched his side as the others chuckled joked between themselves. “You say that as though it’s a bad thing. I thought you liked when I cared for people.”

“I do.” He smiled, putting his hand on the back of your head and pulling you close to press a kiss to your temple. “Just find it a bit funny is all.”

“I want all of you to keep an eye on him. I was talking him today and I could feel this— this— this loneliness hanging around him. He was talking to me and it felt like I was talking to myself at fifteen.”

A silence washed over the portraits. They’d seen you through it all. They saw you when Lodgok passed, when Fig passed, when everything worked against you and there was nothing they could do to help. Sebastian’s grip on you tightened, guilt stirring in the pits of his stomach.

It had been almost two centuries since everything with Anne’s curse had come to pass. He’d apologised countless times, kneeling before you with his head hung his shame and your hands held tightly in his, tears staining your skirts. You’d forgiven him just as many. You cradled his face and kissed his cheeks and told him that what happened then mattered no more than what you had for dinner the night prior. He was still your love, and you were the lone focus of his devotion, that was what mattered.

But time does not heal all wounds, and there would always be a part of you that remembered how he had to mean Crucio and how he didn’t write to you at all that summer, just as there would always be a part of him that yearned to go back and beat sense into the younger version of him who saw you as only a means of rescuing Anne.

They all knew how important the safety of the boy would grow to be to you, and made a silent pact to follow through with whatever you asked.

“I still remember when James and Lily were in first year.” Lamented Poppy. “She knew how to put a boy in his place. Could’ve learned a lot from her in our years.”

“She was so lovely, too. I always knew she’d become Head Girl. She reminded me of Amit. Always so smart but just as kind.” Natty sighed. “How’s Amit doing anyways, Y/n? You were the last to visit the library.”

“He’s well. Apparently a seventh year recognised him from his books the other day, he’s just as bashful as ever. Got red even recounting the story.” You grinned fondly.

“I remember how jealous Sebastian was on your first Astronomy lesson when Professor Shah volunteered Amit to share a telescope with you instead of him.” Garreth laughed, a deep laugh that came from the back of his throat.

“I was not jealous!”

“You were.” It seemed Ominis had a penchant for arriving just when Sebastian needed to be put in his place. “I couldn’t see it but I could sense it. You weren’t exactly subtle.”

“I couldn’t tell, if that makes you feel better.” You attempted to console.

“He professed his love to you for a year and you couldn’t tell. That’s no consolation.” It seemed he had a penchant for catching you out as well.

“Easy, Gaunt.” Sebastian warned. “Let’s not forget five years of pining for Anne. Makes our thing look like a breeze.”

Your friend halted and shook his head, a breathy laugh escaping him. “You have me there, Sebastian.”

“How’s Vic?”

“She’s good. Really good. Asking after the lot of you, Poppy especially.” The former magiczoologist furrowed her brows. “Said your research papers on mooncalves have been an invaluable asset to her work on rescuing and rehoming them.”

“I always knew she’d do brilliant things.” Poppy beamed. “It was a guarantee given who her family is.”

You settled further into Sebastian’s embrace as the conversation rolled on, head on his shoulder and relishing in his warmth. This was the kind of peace you so desperately longed for in your girlhood, this was the home you fought so hard to protect, safe in the arms of your love and the company of your family.

You could only pray Harry found the same someday.

It became routine for the boy to visit your portrait over the months that passed, so much so that Aesop no longer needed to send for you when Harry passed because you’d be there already, waiting.

You felt a kinship with him that you could only compare to the bond you had felt with your own children all those years ago. You loved your great-grandchildren dearly, but they had inherited your wanderlust and seemed nearly impossible to get a hold of, a feat made even more difficult given your inability to do… anything, really. But Harry was here, in need of guidance, a service you were more than willing to give.

When you heard he won quidditch matches, you’d leap from your sofa and nearly wept with pride, just as you did with every assignment result he relayed to you. Harry seemed to preen to your praise.

You quickly became his confidant. He told you of his years with the Dursleys, his troll encounter at Halloween (where you had laughed at another similarity between the pair of you), his fears of Voldemort, and, eventually, his plans to find the Philosopher’s Stone.

“You must promise me you’ll be careful, Harry.” You warned. “It’s no small feat you’re about to undertake, do not underestimate it by any means. Without a doubt, you’ll be trialled before you find the stone, you have to keep a clear head. Do not let yourself get distracted, if only for a moment.”

There was a taught crease between your brows and your shoulders were tensed with worry. The boy seemed almost apologetic as he nodded. “I swear it. Ron and Hermione will help me too. I won’t be alone.”

You remembered how happy he was when he spoke of his friends, so similar to how you did. He seemed to glow with the joy of being accepted not despite being know, but because of it instead. “You keep an eye out for them as well. I don’t want to hear any stories of a first year sent to the Hospital Wing.”

An authoritative edge laced your voice that set Harry’s spine straight, heart clenching at the protectiveness you showed over him and those he held close.

“Harry,” your words were gentler now, softer, “you’re a brilliant wizard, destined to do great things, but you do not have to do them now. Not if you’re not ready.”

“I am ready. I have to do this. If I don’t, who else will?”

In a humbling moment, you realised there was nothing you could say to the boy that wouldn’t be wholly hypocritical. “Just—” you sighed, “promise me that you’ll come visit when you’re done, let me know you’re safe, tell me of your adventure.”

“I promise.” He smiled.

Later that evening, when curfew had long been set, you found yourself visiting the Trophy Room for the first time in many months. You smiled at Imelda as you passed through the portrait across from her.

“Hello, old friend.” You grinned warmly, stepping into the portrait of Eleazer Fig, tucked away behind the Goblet of Fire.

The man seemed to melt in your presence, a bright smile taking over his face as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“It’s been far too long, sweet girl.” He said in your ear, still holding you close.

“I fear an apology is in order.” You said almost feebly.

“What ever for?”

“I believe I now know the torment you felt in our year together.” A laugh escaped you. “I’ve developed a friendship with the young Potter boy.”

Fig nodded his head in understanding. “You worry for the child?”

“With every dawn. To know he’s in such danger and I am unable to help— it’s a cruel torture.”

“I know.” His hands found your own. “No child should have to face what he will — what you did. But if you stand by him whenever he calls, know that is the help he needs. The support of someone who has seen what he has and come out to lead a better life will give him the hope he needs to persevere.”

You hadn’t realised there were even tears in your eyes until they dropped onto your cheeks. It was one of Fig’s many talents to draw the rawest, most powerful emotions from within you.

Over the years, you’d gone to him when the slightest problems left you upset. You’d run to his portrait whenever you didn’t want to sit through History of Magic and sit on the floor and tell him everything there was to tell, from your breakfast that day to the deepest fears in year heart.

“Believe me, child. If he is in any way like you, he will shock you with abilities. I know you shocked me.” He moved to cradle your face softly, resting his forehead against your own.

“I feel so helpless. None of what he stands before is fair. He’s only a boy.” He knew the truth of your words, for they’d been said to him before Harry Potter had even been born. I am so helpless. None of this is fair. I’m only a girl.

“All you can do for him is let him know that you will always be there, never to judge, only to support. The boy needs comfort and normalcy, so that is what you must remain.”

“You’ve always known just what to say.” You smiled at him, face wrought with melancholia.

“It has always been easy to speak with you, friend. You were the closest I’d ever gotten to a child of my own.” His own eyes shone now. “Miriam truly would’ve adored you. The pair of you would’ve driven me mad.”

You let out a watery laugh and pulled him into another tight embrace, your chin tucked over his shoulder, anchoring you to him as you stayed that way for an indiscernible about of time before making your way down to your lone portrait to anxiously wait for Harry’s arrival.

The end of the school year drew close faster than any of the others had, you were sure of it, and soon Harry was sat before you, still shaking with the excitement of winning Gryffindor the House Cup, telling you of how happy the last year had made him.

“I’ll miss you, though.” He frowned. “Don’t suppose you have any portraits near Surrey?”

“I’m afraid not, sweet one. But I’ll be here when you return, eagerly awaiting your stories of summer. Maybe I’ll have some new ones myself too.”

A comfortable silence passed through you both, Harry pulling at him fingers and you looking down at him warmly. “I’m so proud of you, Harry.” He looked up at you quickly, a flicker of shock on his face.

“You’re so brave, so strong, so kind. You’ve dealt with more danger this past year than most wizards do in their lifetime, and you’re still here to tell the tale, still smiling while you do it. It’s a remarkable thing. I hope you know that.”

A tear caught the light trickling in from the corridor’s high windows as it dropped from his eyes, irises swimming with gratitude and remnants of pain he was not yet willing to divulge. He thanked you once more with an earnest sincerity that was so rare to see, and then left to pack his things, swearing to visit you again on September 1st.

As Harry sat staring out his window in The Leaky Cauldron at the dull night sky, knees pulled to his chest and hands clasped tightly together, he wondered how it was possible for him to feel more alone than ever, exiled from the house he grew up in, waiting anxiously for his thirteenth birthday to come.

He wanted to be back in Hogwarts. People cared for him in Hogwarts. You cared for him in Hogwarts. Here the bed creaked and the pipes clanged and the wind whistled as it came through the windows and his loneliness made him feel sick. So Harry did what he always did when he needed a distraction, he went for a walk.

The floorboards groaned beneath his weight, a small sound seeming so mammoth when laid before a silent hallway. If he listened hard enough, Harry could hear the quiet drone of conversation and drunken laughter from lingering patrons downstairs, but he carried on his path away until it was just him and his steady breaths.

“Are you lost?” A portrait asked making the boy jump from his skin. A masculine voice, deep and authoritative but complete with a soothing edge Harry likened vaguely to Arthur Weasley or Dumbledore.

Harry turned to face his frame. It was a simple model, nothing fancy enough to seem out of place in its dwelling, but polished enough to know it was revered. The man was beautiful, Harry thought. With freckled cheeks, big brown eyes, and a slightly flattened nose. He smiled at Harry’s hesitation, a small, kind thing, as though he were welcoming an old friend or coaxing a fawn from hiding.

Sebastian Sallow. Auror. 1875-1938. The golden plaque beneath him read. The last name made Harry’s breath hitch. Sallow.

You’d told him stories of your lover many times, of how you found each other just as you needed it most, how you stayed by him when no others would and how he returned the debt in kind. Harry had almost been able to fall in love with the man through your words alone.

“You’re Y/n’s husband.” He blurted without thinking, and Sebastian’s small smile grew to split his face, a deep laugh rumbling from his chest.

“It is one of my grander accomplishments.” A confident content that could almost be confused for smugness settled on his face. “And you’re Harry Potter. I’ve heard many things about you. Seems you’ve managed to quite entrance my wife.”

A dark red flooded Harry’s cheeks. “She’s very kind.”

“She is indeed. Though, she’d kill me if I didn’t ask what brings you here.”

Harry paused. “I couldn’t stay home any longer.”

Sebastian clicked his tongue, humming in acknowledgment. “I understand. Are you alright?”

It was a simple question, one he normally would’ve brushed off without second thought, but Sebastian seemed to share your ability of coaxing out Harry’s deepest truth. “I don’t know.”

A tense beat passed between them, neither knowing exactly what to say, both knowing you would if you were there, until Sebastian eventually broke the silence. “I remember when I felt like that.” Harry looked at him inquisitively.

“Christmas in our fifth year, I had… a falling out with my uncle and sister. The thought of going back home made me feel ill, so I didn’t. For the first time, I spent the holiday in the castle, just as she did.”

December 22nd, 1890.

A grey cloud seemed eternally settled above Sebastian’s head and the sight of your friend’s unspoken torment made your skin crawl. Ominis had just departed for Gaunt Manor, making hushed comment on the fact he’d likely be back within a week. You wished he hadn’t left at all.

Your worry for Sebastian had been gnawing away at you ever since the events surrounding Salazar’s Sciptorium. You feared for the path he threatened to follow, the darkness settling into the far corners of his mind. His nose was always stuck in the damned book you found in that room, reading, searching, and scouring for anything that would help Anne.

A small part of you knew he would give his own life to absolve her of that pain, a larger part feared he would give yours too.

“Have you eaten?” You asked him, taking a gentle approach with deliberate steps towards his hunched-over frame, careful not to startle him.

“Hm?” He hummed in half-acknowledgment.

“I said, ‘Have you eaten?’” There was a smile evident in your voice as you pulled out the chair beside him.

“Oh— Uhm, not yet.” He brushed off your concern. You thought Sebastian was clever, but if he truly was, he would’ve known you wouldn’t let up that easily.

You sighed, standing up again and patting his shoulders. “Up.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Up. You’ve been sat here every day this past week from dawn till dusk and I will not let it carry on any longer.” He hung his lead low and shook it slightly and you could tell he was fighting a smile. “If you won’t move for the sake of yourself, do it for the sake of chivalry. I intend to go to Hogsmeade and don’t wish to go alone. For safety.”

“You and I both know you’d best any opponents that cross us before I could even ready my wand.” He laughed, but he was slowly gathering his things and tucking them beneath his arm.

“Not if my opponent is loneliness. Come on, Sebastian. Entertain me.” You didn’t even attempt to hide your smugness as he stood by your side, holding his arm out for you to take. “How charming.” You commented, your hand resting on his elbow as he guided you from Hogwarts.

After spending almost every day of the past three months in your company, Sebastian had come to think nothing of mindless affection.

He noticed it first in your interactions with Natsai. How you pulled her into a tight embrace after she won a round of Crossed Wands, only letting go when it was your turn to duel.

Then it was with Poppy. How the pair of you always seemed to sit or stand close enough to each other to touch in some way. How she’d place her head on your shoulder and you’d rest yours on top of hers.

Even with Anne, who you had only just met, you placed your hands on her shoulders ever-so-softly as she told you of her strife. It seemed to natural for you to touch those you cared for.

He realised you were more hesitant to show affection to your male classmates. You’d hold Garreth’s arm as you laughed at a joke, but always retracted after a few seconds. But the Scriptorium changed everything.

In the moment, he supposed it was mere adrenaline, that the way you tightly squeezed Ominis after his parseltounge display was a mere product of high tensions. But when he cast Crucio, he saw Ominis react in a way he never had before. Ominis grabbed you and held you close as you cried and thrashed in his arms, hands shaking as he fought every urge in him to leave you alone and fend off him own haunting memories.

After that, you and Ominis became more freely affectionate than ever, sparking more than a few courtship rumours that made Sebastian’s heart race more than they should have. The blond boy would let you lead him through crowded areas where his wand might have failed him. You’d let him lean against you in History of Magic.

Your closeness with Sebastian was forged from a moment of weakness on his end.

A week prior to the Christmas break, the day Sebastian decided not to return to Feldcroft, you’d caught him sat on a bench by the greenhouses, watching the wildflowers billow in the moonlight. His hands were clasped before him, his knee kept bouncing, and his brows were furrowed into a deep line.

You approached him just as you had in the library, with a soft tenderness, inviting him to the Room of Requirement for some space to clear his mind.

He took his anger out of conjured training dummies and yelled so loud you had to move your diricawls to a different vivarium so they wouldn’t get scared until, eventually, he collapsed onto one of the sofas you had set up in the middle of the room. The last thing he remembered of that night was your fingers combing through his hair. And then he woke up, his head resting in your lap, your hands still in his tresses. He sat up quickly, instantly aware of how compromising such a position could be.

You were fast asleep, head tilted back on the sofa in a way that must’ve been most uncomfortable. His cheeks warmed at the thought of you sitting through that for his sake. He took off his robe and draped it over your frame, smiling as you subconsciously curled around it.

From that night on, it felt like a barrier had been broken between the two of you. Sebastian’s hand would seek yours beneath tables, his touch would linger on the small of your back in Hogsmeade.

“She always made me feel welcomed.” He said to Harry, eyes glazed over as he stayed half-distracted is his reminiscence. “She did that for everyone.” A laugh bubbled out of his mouth. “I remember all of our daughter’s friends wanted to come stay at our home just to see her. No matter how busy she was with work, she’d make them food and sweets and entertain whatever stories they had to tell her.”

Harry found himself laughing too, a sense of longing rooting him in his spot. He watched Sebastian, who he’d read about as a formidable curse-breaker unafraid of anything, turn to nothing more than a smitten schoolchild at the recollection of your younger memories and wondered what it would’ve been like to hear such stories from his own father.

“When she passed, it seemed as though the world itself stopped to grieve. Our Annie didn’t know what to do and I didn’t know how to help her. I mean, how can you tell a child her mother is dead?” Sebastian was vaguely aware that he was preaching to the wrong choir, but he so rarely got to wallow in the pain he felt all those years ago and found himself swept into its storm all over again.

The word ‘child’ caught Harry’s ears and made him look at Sebastian in confusion. “How could Anne be a child when Y/n passed? She said you had her at thirty.”

Sebastian’s mind cleared, shock melting to realisation on his face as the fact you’d kept your death from Harry dawned on him. “She was thirty-eight when it happened.”

“How?” Harry found himself asking without care for how insensitive it may have come across.

“It was supposed to be her final mission before retirement. She’d been worked to the bone for over twenty years, and if I carried on in my post, we’d have had more than enough money to carry on comfortably while she minded Anne. She was promised an easy case to finish it off, something about a loose canon in the south of France. She insisted to bring me along for ‘aid’ but I knew it was because the year prior I’d made comment about wanting to visit.”

“The case itself was fine, an old witch had written a barely legible spell book centuries before our time and passed it down from generation to generation as nothing more than mantle decoration, but it fell into the hands of a reckless wizard. Between the two of us, he was contained easily, but he had a wife who didn’t know the full story. She saw none of his wrongdoings and only us defeating and detaining him. She cast a killing curse on me whilst my back was turned and—” His breath caught in his throat.

“Her valiance had always been both my most and least favourite trait of hers. She pushed me out of the way before anyone could blink.”

A heavy silence settled over them both. A pit weighed in Harry’s stomach, stoking a fire of anger at the injustice of the Wizarding World.

His mother was a kind woman. His father was a kind man. You were kind. And what kindness was afforded to you in return? A cold death by an uncaring wand? Is that what truly came from devotion? Is that what would come to him?

“I’m sorry.” Was all he managed to say to Sebastian.

“There’s no need. I’m with her now.” The man smiled back. “It’s funny, when we were younger, I would be so annoyed every time an artist requested to commission a painting of her because it took away from the time I could spend with her. But once she passed, I couldn’t have been more grateful for them, because it gave me infinite chances to speak with her again.”

It wasn’t long before Harry felt the gentle temptations of sleep crawl to the forefronts of his mind and he bid Sebastian adieu after making the portrait promise to say hello on his behalf.

Decades had passed now since that first fateful day in the potions corridor. Harry had grown from a feeble and uncertain boy to a man weathered by grief but uplifted by the love he gave and received in turn.

He recalled you saying once how you wished for him the same family you made with Sebastian and he liked to believe that he now did. His eldest son radiated a nervous energy as he hovered by the front door of his girlfriend’s parents house, his other children stood behind him, giggling at their brother’s anxiety, Ginny stood by his side and smiled up at him with a knowing look.

It was the first time they were meeting the girl’s family, having met her once or twice in passing when they dropped James Sirius off at 9 3/4, and Harry couldn’t have been more excited if he tried. The way his son seemed to glow at the mention of the girl put him in mind of how he did with Ginny, how Rob did with Hermione, how Sebastian had that night in the Leaky Cauldron.

He wondered how the two of you fared in the years since he last spoke with you. It seemed as he travelled for auror work, he found less and less time to spend in the Three Broomsticks speaking with a painting over a few too many firewhiskeys. He hoped you were well and that you’d be proud of what he managed to accomplish, that he carried on the ‘chosen one’ lineage with a happy ending just as you had before.

Before he could wallow any longer, the door swung open to reveal a woman with a warm smile and brown eyes. “Hello!” She beamed.

“Amelia?!” Ginny exclaimed with a bright before introductions could be made. The woman’s jaw dropped in shock.

“Ginny Weasley?!” The redhead ushered her children inside to give the other woman a tight hug. “Merlin, you’ve changed since Hogwarts.” She let out a breathy laugh, holding Ginny by the shoulders.

“We were in the same year.” Ginny explained to her husband while Amelia told the children her daughter was just ahead in the front room.

“Lovely to meet you officially, Harry.” Amelia smiled and shook his hand. “My husband’s just popped down to the shop to get some wine and I’m finishing up the dinner, so make yourselves comfortable. Food should be ready in about ten minutes.”

Ginny went inside to greet the girl her son was so besotted by while Harry stayed back to hang her coat. As he walked toward the front room, he took his time in admiring the artwork lining their walls. They were all nice pieces, although nothing seemed to grab his attention until he saw the plaque on the last one before the door.

He could hear the fire crackling and his family laughing, but there was only one thing he could focus on. Y/n and Sebastian Sallow.

He dared not look up for fear he’d somehow misremembered the name of the woman who saved his school time sanity and raised his hopes for naught. He kept his eyes firmly in the plaque until he heard that same soft voice once again.

“Hello, sweetheart. I thought you’d gotten lost.”

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Okay, now I’m finally not on the road and have a chance to reblog this, YEAH. THIS. The discourse around this has got to be among the most infuriating fan discourse I’ve come across simply because of how determined some people seem to insist that the rules of storytelling don’t apply to this one guy in particular.

Death in Star Wars is somewhat fungible. It always has been. It’s not a bug, it’s a feature baked into its DNA from basically the beginning. If a writer wants a us to know a character died in this franchise they have to make sure we know make sure we know that character is really dead. That’s why Fives has a full arc and dies in Rex’s arms, and why Crosshair has an entire mental breakdown next to Mayday’s body after failing to find a pulse.

And if it’s a character who’s part of the lead group in a show? You can’t just kill them on screen, you’ve got to justify it. Make the audience accept that it’s real and move on. Especially if you’re writing for kids. This is why Kanan got a solid episode of death prep, an on screen death, an entire completely silent credits sequence afterwards to give him a moment of silence, a reconfirmation of the death from the lead in the beginning of the next episode, a whole episode of processing and getting to a point of acceptance and consolation for the other mains, and then two more episodes of processing and acceptance for the lead while also making it completely clear that Kanan can’t come back and why.

And you know what? They still might not stay dead after that. I actually wouldn’t say no to either Fives or Mayday coming back, and could see it happening, even if I think the intent at the time was 100% for them to be and stay dead, and even if it would take a significant amount of retcon to do so. Star Wars has retconned more solid deaths than theirs and handwaved away the explanations of how. Maul is missing half his internal organs. How’d he survive like that for a decade? He got real angry, the force is mysterious, don’t worry about it. (I would object to Kanan coming back, but that’s because I don’t know how you’d round out his arc better than they did with Jedi Night. It’s the most narratively justifiable death in Star Wars.)

Popular characters come back in Star Wars all the time because they’re popular and Star Wars doesn’t really care about death all that much. There’d be nothing keeping Tech permadead forever even if they’d actually killed him off in the first place and I’m still not sure they did.

Because, I mean. They don’t kill him. They drop him off screen. All we actually know about his status is that he’s not wearing those goggles. We don’t even know if Omega, who’s usually right about this kind of thing, thinks for sure that he’s dead, because the most explicit thing she says about it is that he’s not gone. We don’t know if Phee thinks he’s dead because we don’t see her get the news—hell, you could actually make the argument that none of the bad batchers are 100% sure he’s dead (except maybe Crosshair, who might just have to think that). He’s not written like a dead guy, he’s written as MIA. The episode in which he falls is written like a textbook fakeout. There’s so much survival shadowing you could write essays on it. There was significant hinting he could be CX-2—something that’s never proven wrong on screen, by the way—which, if nothing else, even if it’s not him, served as a suggestion that Tech could have survived the fall because just hinting provides a gateway through which he could come back. He’s got a whole unfinished character arc and significant connections to the other arcs that remain unfinished. Nothing in the epilogue confirms he didn’t come back during the gap.

If I were writing this particular plot as a fakeout I genuinely don’t know what else I’d do besides just showing the man alive. It’s not just that he could come back, it’s that they’ve sort of written it in such a way that he kind of has to in order for anything outside of Omega’s arc to make any sense.

And yet this is the one character “death” where arguing that it’s a fakeout was considered the niche, delusional opinion in the more online parts of the fandom.

It was actually to the point that I kind of wonder if the solidity with which you can argue that it sure looks like an intentional (if extended) fakeout, and one of the very few intended fakeouts in Star Wars (Star Wars brings a lot of characters back, but with the exceptions of Ahsoka and maybe Fennec the returns are generally retcons after the fact) is part of what has some people insisting it can’t be changed no matter what. Not for the portion of the audience that sees themselves in Tech—with that part of the audience I think it’s as simple as the fact that we’re used to autistic characters being treated badly, have justifiably low expectations, and don’t want to get our hopes up because of it.

With everyone else, though, it’s like Tech comes up and suddenly any notion that Star Wars is space opera for children (slight sidebar—I don’t mean that as an insult, it’s just a categorization, I do think TBB is a for kids/for families show but I mean that as high praise in its case) flies out the window. I recently had a (maddening) conversation with someone who, turns out, kept arguing with me that Tech had to stay dead in part because he thought it was so obvious that the writers were/are planning on him coming back. No one does that for any other character in the franchise. Ever.

I’ve seen people go from arguing that Maul could come back again post “Twin Suns” pyre funeral on Tatooine (again, not out of the question, it’s Star Wars) to saying that Tech can’t ever come back. For reasons. I even put on a hazmat suit to trawl some old reddit posts about Fallen Order and the Ninth Sister’s “death.” And guess what?

No one in those posts thought she was dead.

Because no one in fiction ever dies in a fall like that.

The thing that's insane about the Tech Lives Discourse is that it seems to live in an alternate universe where zero normal narrative rules apply. Because so many major character deaths in media that are otherwise definitive will still get a little bit of "What if it's a fakeout" and everyone accepts this at least as a possibility even if they personally think it's a real death. And in Star Wars it's pretty accepted that even if a character died onscreen in front of you there's always a chance they'll come back even if they died out of universe years ago.

But from the second Plan 99 aired, suggesting that Tech was alive got you insulted or dismissed as delusional despite him having the single most sus "death" in history. Suddenly real life fall statistics have meaning in Star Wars and "no body no death" isn't a common narrative trope anymore. But just for him, every other character continues as normal.

Genuinely I don't understand why it's so out there to assume Tech's alive. He fell offscreen into some clouds and the only thing we know about him from the epilogue is that Omega still has the broken goggles. Literally nothing is actually keeping him dead and the fact that "Tech's alive we just haven't seen how he comes back into the story yet" is treated as a delusional niche opinion is straight up bizarre. No other character gets this treatment! Why is everyone so weird about him?

[sylvieserene]

currently thinking about how dark enchantress is technically WLC and how maybe her weakness is still PVC deep down

It definitely could be true.

While I was writing the chapters for my PureLily fic, Love is like a Poison , I found myself pondering about it in my free time lol mainly to get a better understanding of WL's character

Idk if I have said this here before but I see White Lily Cookie and Dark Enchantress cookie as Kagome and Kikyo from Inuyasha as their characters resemble eachother perfectly.

Just like Kagome and Kikyo, both are the same as they share the same soul but with two different halves and beings.

When their souls split and DE was born, they got divided in two halves.

Just like Dark Enchantress Cookie's birth was through a tragic event and basically the "death" of White Lily Cookie

As shown in her gacha animation too

Kikyo's tragic "death" is what caused the birth of her reincarnation

But also a hollow version of her when she was brought to life again unfairly.

Just like the Shikon Jewel which shall never again choose her or shine for her in her rebirth, the light of freedom shall NEVER shine for DE because just like Kikyo, upon death both of them were reincarnated as former shells of themselves, born with only resentment, revenge and hatred towards the world, the last feeling they felt before they died.

WL got to keep the love and kindness part of her soul whole DE got born with her dark hatred, jealousy resentment, angry and regretful side. Just like Kagome got born with love and empathy while Kikyo got born with anger and resentment because of how unfair life had been to her previous to her "reincarnation" (Inuyasha fans will know)

Just like her, DE is also more than happy to get rid of her "other half" as it is the part she is missing and she.... doesn't want to acknowledge that

She doesn't want the reminder of the pain when she went through at all.

Just like DE, she (Kikyo) lived a miserable existence as she couldn't accept the fact that Kagome (who is basically her reincarnated in modern time, sharing her soul and heart) exists and Inuyasha (whom she loved) still loved her (just like she loved him) and wanted to reach a conclusion. She continued to hate him, but still kept reaching out to him. She didn't get liberated until she found closure from him.

I see White Lily Cookie and Dark Enchantress Cookie's character in the same light because underneath all that hatred and anger, DE, as much as she likes to pretend she doesn't care, she cares a lot.

Which is evitable with her question here.

Just like WL, who asks the same question.

Despite everything, DE is still what WL is, but just a former shell of it for she only got her hatred while WL got to keep the love and kindness she possessed at heart.

At the end, DE is merely a shadow of what WL is and would forever be incomplete without her. Deep at heart, despite the anger and resentment, DE is still is doing what she feels like is in the best interest for Cookie Kind. Not to attain world dominance, not to get all that power for herself but trying to "fix" the world in a way she feels is right

All of these wars and atrocities? All of this is still for the "help" of others.

Mainly because Dark Enchantress Cookie still cares.

She is still that scared White Lily Cookie with anger and fear clinging her heart as she fell to her ultimate doom.

That girl who thought she can change the world single handedly.

The girl who failed.

The girl who lost her life in the process and is angry about it.

The dead girl still saying "Only I can offer a path to unity."

Just like Kikyo, who also seeked to "fix" the world after she got reincarnated with just hatred

DE is still trying to do what's best for everyone even if it means casualties and hurting everyone in the process.

Something WL, being morally grey, also has done to reach the "truth" (not this severely ofc cuz she still held love and kindness, smth de lacks) but did all the same and perhaps even continues to do so without realising. But she recognises this flaw and is trying her best to fix it.

This is why, I can confidently say Dark Enchantress Cookie has deeply suppressed feelings still for Pure Vanilla cookie and vise versa.

Because again underneath that soul less shell, she still is an extension or perhaps a part of WL, who still carries similar feelings and sentiment over things she cares about.

And no matter what she tries, it keeps showing.

White Lily Cookie is consciously aware that Pure Vanilla Cookie is her major weak spot. Something which even Shadow Milk Cookie catches on very quickly.

Even Dark Enchantress cookie is aware that perhaps only Pure Vanilla cookie who, as much as she'd like to discard her past, continues to be someone she sees as a threat because he can stop her, not just via power but via being himself

And it shows, over and over again.

"Especially you"

Even back when she met him all over again, she's like "So you finally admit you were an idiot aye?"

When PV tries to talk about it, she goes

She is amused and curious. Because she does know this guy was close to her. She knows his deal, she is interested in hearing his side even though frankly she got no reason. She still has an interest over him.

But she recognises this instantly so she doesn't even let him speak lol

Because while she is interested, she is still angry. As evidenced here:

The interesting thing here is, she glares. Because she still recognises that something about him still makes her feel ...weak

Which is why her next question was this

She questions her weakness despite Pomegranate never even mentioning anything about it and just saying "as long as pv is here, the echoes of the past will continue in this castle"

Which is why, DE inorder to get rid of this, tries to kill him lol because she knows Pomegranate is right and that she won't be able to do anything if PV just keeps being himself because no matter how hard she wants to throw away her past, that strange pull for him would never go because he is a major part of it.

What better way to stop making yourself feel bad but by simply getting rid of the thing causing that hurt especially when you're in an eternal cycle of anger and resentment and are incapable of thinking rationally emotion-wise?

She is still angry at him for sealing her and if we go deeper, not getting/understanding her. Which ultimately lead to her doom and cause DE because like I said, underneath all those layers, WL still is alive in DE, in a form who is angry at PV for not understanding her even before anything happened. Something which ultimately led them to splitting paths as even PV admits, he didn't get her and which is what led to both of realising that they gotta part ways, leading to WL's expedition to beast yeast for searching the truth and for PV to stay back and help crispia and his kingdom.

Both did things for helping others.

Their goals aligned but at the same time, they didn't.

Because neither of them got eachother.

Because unfortunate timing.

PV valued his Kingdom more than searching the world with her for a truth they may never find.

This is why when she "meets" him again in Creme Republic, she is almost disappointed at him lol

To the point you can interpret it as "You are still an idiot and you are talking to me?! Stfu"

Just like she was disappointed back at banquet because despite all this time, he has still not seen the "error" in his ways according to her.

He still didn't understand her vision.

This is why, this is exactly why DE is the way she is to him.

She is still deeply affected by him. Even if she doesn't admit it, she still cares a lot. She still has deeply suppressed feelings for him which make her question herself even when literally no one on earthbread is capable of doing so.

She doesn't understand these complex feelings because she never processed her anger. She is permanently incapable of processing these feelings because her other half got that part and now she is merely a husk of what she was.

Just like Pure Vanilla Cookie still questioned his feelings for White Lily Cookie (whom he knew had become Dark Enchantress Cookie), Dark Enchantress cookie definitely questions hers but in a way she is capable of mentally and in her own way.

Pure Vanilla Cookie is what Inuyasha is to Kagome/Kikyo. He recognises the soul of White Lily Cookie even when she can't find it out because he truly loves her. He didn't just love her, he fell in love with her soul. He recognised it was WL in his final moments of the Dark flour war as his eyes went wide which is why he sealed her instead of killing her and along with that sealed his own memories because he couldn't bear this anymore.

This is why when told again that de is wl, he accepts it relatively fast because he knows, he knew and was in intentional denial because he didn't want her to be that.

This is also why he is the one approached by the light of freedom because it also knows that only he has the ability to know the true WL and recognise her being.

This is also why he is more than happy to get WL despite her being half alive to the point of him being willing to die just to get her back because he loves her soul and he wants that part, the one whom he fell for, come back to life and wake up.

This is also why again and again back when he didn't know the entire debacle of WL and thought she is gone for good in exchange of DE, he tried to explain her over and over again that there still was time and she can come back if she wants because he didn't want to seal her, not when he clearly recognises that it's her, it's still the same soul he fell for but now against him.

This is why he happily embraces WL back when she is alive again because he realises that she and DE are not the same despite being the same soul.

Because he fell for WL and not her but he can still/might have residual feelings because at the end, they're still part of each other but he'll always love WL more because DE and WL are no longer the same. But he will definitely always have a spot for DE too cuz that's a fragment of WL too. A part of her too.

So does that mean DE has feelings for PV? Highly possible because it's clear that she's still drawn to him and what he has to say. She still holds him in high regards despite what she likes to admit to herself.

So yes, it is very possible that DE still has deeply suppressed feelings for PV just like he did for her once (before WL woke up) but she would NEVER voice them because caught in a cycle of eternal anger, pain and resentment, she has lost the ability long ago to process these emotions.

Just like Kikyo continued to love Inuyasha but couldn't say it out loud despite her evil birth, despite everything, still continued to subtly show so as she became incapable of love in her new unfair "birth", DE shall always remain this tragic character with an unfair fate and life incapable of emotions and feelings other than hatred.

This is also why, these 3 shall always remain my favourite characters as WL is not a Mary Sue, she is a deeply complicated, complex character who deserves all the love she gets along with PV.

[panlight]

What was your favorite change in LaD? Least favorite? The one that made the most sense? Made the LEAST sense? (I'm looking at you, epic car chase. >.>)

Favorite change, hands-down, is that Beau actually has to give things up. They have to fake his death, Charlie and Renee mourn him and he never gets to see them again. That's . . . that's fair? That's the price you're supposed to pay to be young and immortal forever. I'm not reading vampire stories to have my cake and eat it too. I want there to be downsides and heartbreak and isolation from the human world. Otherwise I'd read about some other supernatural create that's not horror-based.

Least favorite change(s) are all the gendered backstory changes. There are some that are necessary: Carine being a nurse rather than a doctor for part of her career, for example. But SM tended to needlessly complicate things because she couldn't figure out how men would be victims of violence the way women were in Twilight. Earnest's wife being an alcoholic who drunkenly jumped off a cliff with their toddler is just VERY different than Esme's story in ways it didn't need to be. Earnest could have taken his newborn daughter and ran away, fearing for her safety given his wife's abuse, and the baby could have died of natural causes shortly after and that would be much more like Esme's story. The whole rival crime syndicate angle with Royal is needlessly complicated. Rowen could have attacked and left him for dead herself to more closely match Rosalie's story.

Makes the most sense . . . I mean again, the ending. There's no death baby (because Edythe can't be pregnant) and Beau becoming a vampire is more like how all the others did: without any warning and without much choice. He barely knows these people. He moved to Forks in January and he's changed in March. It's not this long drawn out "nooooo we can't change you it would be wrong" only to get the "surprise! Actually everything worked out Perfect Piece of Forever-ly!"

I don't think the Mele thing makes any sense. The whole thing feels very "working backwards" in that SM couldn't conceive of a Volturi triumvirate working without Aro's power, so she had to invent a way for powers to be transferred somehow. So she invented a vampire whose power was . . . stealing other vampires' powers but not being able to use them herself and only being able to give them to someone else. That's so weird and so specific. Why would anyone develop that kind of power? How is it useful to Mele herself? It's always felt very clunky to me. Personally I don't think powers are that important and Sulpicia could have ruled with fear just fine -- she killed her own super powerful husband, after all! Tremble before her! But I'd rather there were a ~magic ritual used to transfer the power, or she got Aro's gift after eating his ashes or whatever. Mele makes no sense to me.

(Also, yes, the car chase makes no sense. It was an answer to a question no one was asking and it interrupted the flow of the story. Did not need a high octane action sequence here. It felt out of place and I cannot accept that this happened and it's NEVER MENTIONED in any of the other books when Alice stealing a car in Italy became a running joke in the family).

Also don't think it makes sense that Beau like Bella is super controlled. It basically proves that it wasn't that Bella was "mentally prepared" or whatever, it was that she was the protagonist and was always going to have an easy time of it. Beau had no time to prepare and basically did just as well.

[asexualperversion]

I fi may request a dad!Ace x mom!reader where they teach their kid to punch bad guys using a marine or enemy pirate. Ace, in complete shock, yells like, "Why would you do that?" but the reader points out 'its better to start early,' and references his childhood, much to his annoyance. This video/clips of a character from Zenless Zeno Trifger, where she lets a kid punch someone while she's so proud, made me giggle so much, and I need this to happen.

Ace x Fem! reader Teaching Their Child Young

ACCEPTING REQUEST

Au but the only different is that Akainu's dead. This is a world were ace LIVES FOREVER

Ace, while nervous, loved the chance to be a dad. He respected Gold D Roger as the king of the pirates, but we saw in his backstory that he hated him as his dad. His relationship with his father was very lacking. The only thing his dad left him was the stigma of his blood. This is something Ace had to grow up with. While he was fending for himself, he also had to tackle the impact of Gold D. Roger. This led Ace to become a pirate and fight against what society said about him. It's also what led him to find a family with Pops and the white-beard pirates. Whitebeard wasn't a name that brought shame to his existence. He provided a family and support system outside of Luffy and (as far as he was aware) the deceased Sabo. It probably combated a lot of loneliness Ace didn't realize he felt. Pops probably became a genuine father figure. (highkey and unnecessary trauma dump rn, but I am so jealous of Ace bc I wish my dad was not present and despite my need for independence I still oddly crave a father figure despite how I push them away) That's where a lot of his healing came from. He learned to embrace who he was and live as Fire Fist Ace, Division Commander of the White Beard Pirates. Not the damned Gold D Rogers bastard son. His sense of self and individuality. But he had a chance to maybe make up for it. With the woman he loved. When you got pregnant, he saw another future. One where he could do right by being present. Of course, there's the fear of what his child may think of him as a pirate. But it wasn't going to stop the baby on the way. Ace would provide a life for you and your baby. He would also be very attentive during pregnancy, given how his mother passed. And you had a baby girl, he was outnumbered by you. She's as rambunctious as her father. The toddler phase brought out the will of D. His baby could never hate him, but she could turn into him. Dealing with himself is something Ace was not prepared for. Especially as he walked onto the deck of the moby dick to see his darling girls and … some pirates. "What?" he stood there stunned before walking over to get a better look "What are you doing with our daughter?" You smiled up at him, holding a raggedy and bruised pirate in a full Nelson "ya know, just teaching her young" Right in front of you was your little girl. Dark hair in a ponytail and band-aids on her knuckles. "Look Dad I knocked out his tooth," she said holding the tooth up in her little hand. "That can't count honey, I think it was loose" you teased at her. Ace sighed, picking up his little girl and grabbing the tooth out of her hand. "I don't think she needs to be learning this so young" Tossing the tooth away and looking over at you. "Garp taught you young; you turned out just fine." He opened his mouth and closed it, squeezing his daughter closer to his chest, holding her desperately, scared of the idea of her growing up. "That old bag just wanted me to be a marine." "Yeah, and well, he left you with mountain bandits." At that, he chuckled, looking between you and your child. "Maybe we should visit Grandpa soon?"

[anincompletelist]

spideypool fic recs (part one)!

hello! :D I apologize once again to my rwrb folks for flooding the dash with these guys, I promise we will return to regularly scheduled programming ASAP!

but for my friends that might be interested, you can thank @incalamity who poured gasoline on my metaphorical spideypool shaped fire as of late. I've been losing track of my favorite fics so I thought I'd put them together here!

as with any recs, please always be sure to check the tags and heed any warnings in the notes etc. (esp if you're coming from the rwrb space, spideypool has very different themes! sjdfgjdgf)

happy reading! x

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Domina(tion) K(ink) by Vixen13 | E | 18k

Wade gets off on pain. Wade gets off on praise. These things aren’t really a big deal until he accidentally pops a raging boner while getting a tattoo. The weird part is that his artist, Peter, doesn’t appear to mind.

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this side of paradise by thistleraven | E | 6k

a sex pollen fuck buddy fic. For the record: the whole thing is Peter’s fault. They’re sitting on a rooftop, nearing the end of patrol, when Peter decides to jab Fate right in the eye and flip her the bird for good measure. "—and I was sure it was about to be a sex pollen disaster, but thankfully," Wade says, knocking on his temple for good luck, "just some classic, springtime eau d'jizz from those pear tree things." “There is no such thing as sex pollen,” Peter snorts derisively. Wade points accusingly at him. “Now you’ve done it! You’ve Invoked the Trope! We’re doomed by the narrative now!”

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The Moist Demanding Chasm of His Mouth by RatPapi | E | 4k

Deadpool gets a look at Spidey's fangs and immediately wants to know more. Lucky for him, Spidey doesn't put up too much of a fight. There's a lot more spider than he bargained for, but Wade certainly isn't complaining.

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A Helping Hand by Lunastories | E | 7k

Ever since the spider bite, Peter hasn't been able to come. Every time he gets close, his senses get overwhelmed and he ends up frustrated and unable to orgasm. Enter one Wade Wilson who is very good at making sure Peter focuses on him, and only him.

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Prove me Wrong by Fredegund | E | 26k

There aren’t many things Wade Winston Wilson's good for as an omega. He's male. He's large. He's at least a head taller than most alphas out there, alphas who like their omegas dainty and petite and female. So no, there aren't many things he's good for as an omega.  Peter sets out to prove him wrong.

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atlas by a_cry_in_the_wilderness | E | 3k

The first time that Wade tells Spider-man that he’s beautiful, the hero laughs in a way that makes Wade realize that there’s a wound that he’s accidentally brushed against. It’s too late to stop the bleeding, but he tries to compress it anyway. Peter Parker alludes to not looking how Wade expects underneath the mask leading Wade down a spiral reflecting on his own insecurities and expectations.

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Web Wonder by LinksLeftTit | E | 9k

Peter had felt odd as of late, the weeks passing into autumn following his birthday had been strange. A sense of urgency had begun building under his skin. Tingling raptures of pinpricks he had never quite experienced before. It set him on edge. The same sense begging him to hole up inside. To be safe and warm inside the concrete barrier of his apartment. All Peter felt was an insatiable heat.

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My Boyfriend's a Murder Bot by Fredegund | M | 55k

Wade Winston Wilson is ugly. His skin's inside out. It ripples and moves every second of every day, at constant war with the cancer. Vanessa put on a brave face for him when she first saw the changes, but it turns out even she can't stomach the sight for long. He's ugly and alone and nothing will ever be good in life again -  If only that were his only problem. But Weapon X is at it again, under crisp new management, turning orphans into super slaves and bringing out the big guns to make sure nobody interferes this go around (namely one Pool comma Dead). So now, not only is Wade alone and ugly forever, but he's got a bit of a pest problem in the form of a black-clad murder-happy man spider with a collar around his neck and an unhealthy obsession with tying Deadpool up. So maybe it's not all bad...

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Tiny Entanglements by MargaretKire | E | 6k (DO NOT read this if you have a fear of spiders ksjdgfkjsdgf)

Spider-Man has some hidden desires. So does Deadpool. Things get complicated when Morbius claims to have a cure for Peter’s ‘impure’ DNA. Or: Three thousand spiders in a suit fall in love with Wade Wilson. Featuring: Spider interludes

Mean It by Twisted_Mind | T+ | 6k

Wade shakes his head. “If I’m your friend, you gotta let me feed you—them’s the rules!” “Yeah, well, apparently if you’re my friend, the rule is I give you cancer, so.” There’s a beat of silence as Peter realizes belatedly that that inside thought became an outside thought without getting approved by his brain, and Wade is entirely still and silent.

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and since this is all terribly self indulgent, here's a few that explore wade's mutation (and chronic pain specifically) in further detail:

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cradle by macaronigrille | M | 8k

Peter’s encounters with Deadpool are initially only fleeting. He doesn’t know much about him, simply that he’s a trained mercenary for hire who’s nearly impossible to kill.  Impossible to kill, maybe. But as Peter spends more time with Wade, he realizes that Wade is not unbreakable. From broken fingers to head injuries, Peter teaches Wade how to be cared for, and Wade returns the favor when Peter needs him most.  (Or: 5 times that Peter helped Wade with his healing factor, and one time that Wade returned the favor.)

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nerve induction by silvermarie | E | 8k

Peter and Wade have a very brief body-swap that leaves Peter reeling with what he felt in Wade's body - and what Wade clearly felt in his. Peter decides it's time someone took Wade's pain seriously. What use is being a scientist if you can't help your violent mercenary bro?

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+ one wade/peter/logan for my fellow multiship amigos <3

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joyride! by ilyasomina | E | 3k

"What are you doing, Wade," Logan spits out through gritted teeth. "Stop fucking around. Leave the kid alone." Wade laughs, low and mean. "The last thing he wants is for me to leave him alone," Wade leans in so his lips are against the fabric of Peter's mask. "I bet you'd love someone else who can tame you as well as I can. Maybe Logan here, hm?"

(Or, Deadpool introduces Wolverine to New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.)

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and finally, my two (as of right now) spideypool fics:

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bite your tongue on purpose | M | 6k

This might be the first time Peter’s ever noticing it. Everyone assumes Wade's incessant talking is a distraction tactic, or a form of torture, or simply to be a brat, even once the threat has been neutralized and they’re all winding down. But it isn’t. Peter recognizes it because he has the same thing, just presents in different ways. It’s anxiety. [or, five times peter recognizes and helps wade with his anxiety, and one time wade does the same for him, even if it looks a little different.]

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down swinging | E | 6k

Wade wears his designation like the leather of his suit; skin-tight and confidently and demanding the attention of everyone in—or outside of—a room. Like he can’t even help it. Unapologetic, and so comfortable with it that he likes to shove up against all the stereotypes without a second thought. Even if he didn’t have the physical build of an alpha, it just makes sense for him. Peter, on the other hand, has never been as comfortable with his own. [or, peter is convinced that there are certain parts of himself he'll never be able to share again after his mutation. wade changes his mind, and peter ends up doing the same for wade, too.]

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more to come probably, but this one was getting a bit long so here she is! see you all soon! :D

x

[gublernatural]

spring equinox | s.w.

my submission for the Fanfic Writers of the SPN Fandom April Challenge <3

prompt: I missed feeling the sun on my skin.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is not only dead, but stuck in Hell (so sorry) but there are no real descriptions of what happened down there, sam is grieving hard in the beginning, i actually edited a fic for once (thank u for beta-ing @crowleysmistress)

summary: the spring brings flowers, vampire hunts, and a beautiful gift for a grieving sam.

January first. The marker of the new year, a symbol of change. It never made sense to Sam; January first being the start of the calendar, yeah, sure, but seeing it as a new beginning never made any sense. What was new about it?

Dead-set in the middle of the winter months, bringing Kansas nothing but dreary, cold weather. No celebrations that were particularly enticing to Sam, and this year Sam can’t even bring himself to accompany Dean to the bar to watch whatever performances are playing on the TV, play wing man so Dean can “start the new year off with a bang” (his words), and countdown to midnight.

No, Sam is stuck in bed, stuck in the same pattern he’d been in at the beginning of what has felt like a forever winter.

Grief.

Sam’s most familiar friend. It’s haunted him his entire life, quite literally since he was a baby. No matter how much older he grows, how many changes he has tried to make or goals he has tried to achieve, he cannot escape loss. Just as January cannot escape the dreadful winter.

However, this time was different for Sam. This loss, this pain, this grief, felt different. It felt like a blizzard, surrounding him in nothing but cold and giving him a bone-deep ache in his chest. His steps felt heavy as he walked, as if he was trying to track through foot upon foot of snow.

His girl. The one person in the world who was his. His to hold, to protect, to love. The one person in this world who was able to handle all of him in every kind of way.

You were a hunter, too. Sam remembered a conversation he’d had with his brother just a few days before you hunted them down, quite literally. A conversation about making it work with another hunter, someone who understood the life they lived.

Then you showed up, leaning against the impala, heated about their heavy steps alerting the ōkami to their presence, ready to cuss both of them out despite it turning out to be a successful hunt after all.

Sam, instantly enamored with you, let your angry rant go in one ear and out the other. He looked at you with the puppy dog eyes he saved for when he really, really wanted something and said, “ Do you want to get a drink with us?” He wasn't sure if your face or Dean’s scrunched up faster. Your rant stopped, and you stumbled over an answer, completely forgetting about what was pissing you off in the first place. “Uh, yeah, yeah, sure,” you accepted. Sam ignored the way Dean mumbled a “great” under his breath.

And now you are gone. Years later, after a long journey you’d taken with the Winchesters, you were gone. Not just gone, but stuck. Stuck in hell. And there was nothing Sam could do about it and that hurt worse than anything he’d ever been through.

“C’mon, man, it’s Jody,” Dean ushered, resting against Sam’s door frame. “You know she wouldn’t be calling unless she needed us. Both of us.”

Sam knew he was right, even if it was an excuse for Dean to finally get him out of bed. “Okay,” Sam sighed. Dean tried to fight the smirk that was growing on his face, happy to see his brother finally getting vertical. Sam rubbed his face, trying to push off the exhaustion, anger, and sadness he had been feeling. He moved slowly as he got ready, not feeling any motivation to rush.

By the time Sam met Dean in the car, the sun had started to set. “Let’s go, Sammy. We got a couple hours ride ahead of us,” Dean cheered. There was no complaint about Sam taking too long to get ready, no music that was too loud, and no songs that Dean knew Sam didn’t like. Sam pretended not to notice how thoughtful Dean was being. No chick flick moments, Sam thought.

he hunt was something that Claire had stumbled onto. It took all of them a few days to figure out what they were hunting, and even longer to successfully gank it; allowing February to roll into March, and snow start to turn into rain. It was a group success, one that had Sam feeling like maybe, just maybe, he could be okay without you. Not good, but functioning. Enough that he could get back to doing what he does best; saving people, hunting things, the family business. Outside of you, that was his purpose.

You would want him to keep going, that he knew.

“You alright?” Dean asked as they took their seats in the impala. Sam felt warm for the first time in months. His belly full with Jody and Alex’s home cooked meal, his brother by his side, and a new outlook on what he needs to be doing. The blankets on his bed did not provide the same warmth, the same comfort, that being around his family did. Even if it was missing someone, he belongs with his family.

As Dean drove, Sam spent his time online, looking for the next case. He braced himself with how he approached it. Dean would shut him down if he thought he was getting too eager, dealing with his grief by putting his own life on the line.

“Hey, look,” Sam broke the silence as Dean rolled up to a redlight a few hours away from Jody’s, on their way home. “Like 30 miles that way,” Sam vaguely gestured over Dean’s shoulder, “They found two bodies drained of all of their blood two days ago.” Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother, a silent invitation for a detour. Dean shrugged tiredly, but turned towards the town.

A simple vamp hunt that only took a few days for the brothers to wrap up. Sammy woke up on the morning of the Spring Equinox, feeling like he could finally start his new year. Surrounded by sunshine, Sam deemed March 20th his new January 1st, and set a resolution for himself: I am going to always keep fighting. For the people who needed to be saved, for his brother, for you. 

That was all he needed to do. Keep fighting.

The Impala slowed to a stop just a few yards outside of the bunker. Far enough that Sam couldn’t see the front door through the trees. “You good?” Dean asked as Sam stepped out, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “Yeah, you should park it in the garage. I need a little R and R for a few days.” Dean nodded, happy his brother was able to admit that for once, and pulled off towards the garage.

Sam walked down the dirt path with a pep in his step that hadn’t been there when they first left for Jody’s. He felt different. Lighter. Warmer.

“I’ll have to thank her,” Sam thought, grateful for Jody’s impact on his life.

Sam scanned the clearing in front of the bunker, hunter’s instinct. His eyes followed the horizon until the woods came into view. He inspected them from a distance, making sure nothing weird was out there. And nothing was, so he continued his search until his eyes landed on the front door of the bunker.

His eyebrows furrowed as he noticed legs dangling from the concrete pad atop the door. He let out a gasp as his gaze drifted upwards. He would recognize that face anywhere, any day, from any distance.

His girl.

Sam’s backpack was on the ground and his long legs were sprinting up the hill before he could register where he was going. Before those hunter’s instincts could kick in. He could hear your laughter as he made his way to you. Your real laughter, not a recording or an old voicemail of it. Your genuine, true laughter. If Sam thought he was warm before, he was overheating now.

Sam tried his best to be gentle as he pulled you into his arms. He was like an excited dog, one that has the best of intentions but forgets how big he really is. All of sudden, you were surrounded by nothing but Sam. For the first time in what felt like years, you were finally home.

Sam allowed himself to bask in the idea of you before he pulled away, “Are you real?” Something he should’ve considered before he was within harming distance, especially given his history. You nodded, raising your forearm to show the cut from where you’d tested yourself with silver. After your time in Hell, you had to be sure for yourself you were real. Sure, you felt real, the world around you seemed real, but you had been tortured with it all, and much worse, before. Your guard was up and it was going to take a lot to break it down.

“I tried it all, I swear. Silver, holy water, I even tried to find Ruby’s knife just to be sure.” Sam’s face twisted in confusion. You sighed, knowing you owed him an explanation. First, you claimed your seat back in front of the bunker door. You’d been deprived of all things nature for far too long. It was the end of March, when it finally starts to feel like Spring again in Kansas, and you wanted to bask in all the world had to offer for as long as possible.

As Sam took his place on the ground next to you, he fired off another question, “Why are you out here? You could’ve gone in.” He was still wary of you being real. The real you knew how to get in, yet you were sitting outside.

You shrugged, this time a slow, sadder shrug, and answered, “I missed feeling the sun on my skin.” And with that, Sam understood. He knew you were stuck in Hell, he knew you remembered every second of it, he knew you were real.

With a sad smile, he pulled you closer and pressed a kiss against the top of your head. “You don’t have to tell me now, you don’t have to tell me at all, you just have to tell me that you are going to be okay.”  Maybe it would take days, weeks, years, decades, he didn’t care. You only had to promise him you would be okay, eventually.

“I will, I have you.” You replied, pressing yourself closer to him. You were sure you would be. Not today, probably not even soon, but one day. You were here, real, alive. You could feel the sun on your skin and Sam’s skin pressed against your own. That was all you needed to have a chance for a new beginning. No matter the day. 

[genesis-laced0ut]

Ashes of Us

Cheater!Eddie Munson x reader

If u enjoy be sure to like and reblog!!

PART 2

You never thought you’d be that girl.

The one who lost herself trying to hold onto someone else.

The one who ignored the warning signs — the late replies, the sudden coldness in his voice, the parties he “forgot” to invite you to.

The one who loved someone even when it hurt.

And with Eddie Munson, it always hurt.

You met him freshman year.

He was a mess of denim and chaos, laughing too loud in the back of every lecture hall, scratching song lyrics into the margins of his textbooks instead of taking notes.

You were supposed to be smarter than this.

Smarter than the way he smiled at you one afternoon, all dimples and dangerous promises.

Smarter than thinking you could be the one to fix him.

By junior year, you weren’t smart anymore.

You were in love.

You found out on a Tuesday.

Not a dramatic, cinematic Tuesday.

A normal, bone-achingly cold Tuesday where you were stupidly happy to get off work early, giddy to surprise him.

Maybe you’d even stay the night.

Maybe he’d sing you that half-finished song he always said he was writing about you.

You held onto those maybes like a fool.

His door was half-open.

The hallway smelled like burnt incense and cheap weed.

You pushed the door open with a shy smile already forming on your lips—

—and you saw it.

Her.

In his bed.

In his fucking bed.

Wearing your favorite Metallica shirt — the one you used to steal from his closet, the one he used to tease you about.

Her hands were twisted in his hair.

His mouth was on her neck, the way it used to be on yours.

You froze.

You couldn’t even breathe.

It felt like someone had driven a knife into your stomach and twisted.

You should have screamed.

You should have thrown something, cried, anything.

Instead, you just stood there, a ghost at your own funeral.

And when he finally looked up —

when his brown eyes went wide and horrified —

you realized something even worse:

He knew.

He knew what he was doing.

And he still did it anyway.

“Baby—” he stumbled, shoving the girl off him like she was nothing, tripping over the sheets to reach you.

His voice was cracked and desperate.

“Baby, I— it’s not—fuck, please—”

You stepped back.

You felt like your body wasn’t yours anymore.

Like you were watching this happen to someone else.

She stared at you with wide, smug eyes.

Not even sorry.

Not even ashamed.

“Save it,” you croaked, your throat raw with unshed tears. “Don’t… don’t fucking touch me.”

He was crying now.

Actually crying.

Fat, ugly tears running down his face, the same face you used to trace with your fingers late at night, whispering promises about forever.

“Please,” he gasped. “It didn’t mean anything. I was drunk, I was high, I— I didn’t even know what I was doing—”

“You knew enough to take off your fucking clothes,” you snapped.

Your voice was shaking, but the rage was stronger.

It had to be.

“You meant everything to me, Eddie.”

You said it so quietly it almost didn’t sound like you.

“And I was just… convenient,” you finished, bitter and broken and hollow.

“Someone you could fuck over when you got bored.”

He looked like he was dying.

Like he couldn’t stand to hear the words — because he knew they were true.

“I love you,” he choked.

It sounded like a weapon now, not a comfort.

A curse.

You smiled then — not sweet, not kind.

Something sharp and cold and dead inside.

“No,” you whispered.

“You just love what I let you get away with.”

And then you turned around.

You walked out, ignoring the way he called after you, ignoring the sound of him falling to his knees in the hallway, sobbing your name like a broken prayer.

You didn’t look back.

If you did, you knew you would never leave.

Later that night, alone in your apartment, you let yourself break.

You tore down the Polaroids of you and him taped to your walls.

You deleted every voicemail, every text, every song he ever sent you at 2 a.m.

You cried so hard you thought you might throw up.

You hated yourself for still loving him.

For still aching for him in places you didn’t even know could hurt.

You slept in one of his old shirts — not out of nostalgia, but because you were too wrecked to change.

It smelled like him.

It smelled like the graveyard of everything you lost.

You dreamed of him that night.

Of his hands, his smile, the way he used to call you his lucky charm.

When you woke up, your pillow was soaked in tears.

You realized something even worse than heartbreak.

You would survive this.

And somehow, surviving felt like the cruelest thing of all.

.

.

.

Its currently 5:17 am and i havent slept. Have a lot of this fic done already. Lmk if yall want more!

DONT FORGET TO LIKE AND REBLOG!!!

PART 2

[manlikeazi]

hi I love your work so so much and i was really hoping you could do an Aj one where they break up and he goes and begs for forgiveness ik you did a Sharky one already but am desperate for an Aj one it was so goood

Fix It, Right Now - Aj Shabeel

Summary: You and Aj gets into a fight and all it takes for Aj to apologize is a serious talk and a bunch of chaos.

Pairing: Aj Shabeel x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Masterlist

Note: This req is similar to the one I received on wattpad so I just kinda did it both in this one lmao.

The Beta Squad mansion was unusually quiet. Tense. The kind of silence that made even the sound of a spoon tapping a mug feel like a drum solo. 

 Aj sat on the couch, arms crossed, staring blankly at the TV. It was on but he wasn't watching. He hadn't said a word in hours. 

 Because you were mad at him. Rightfully so.

 The fight had started earlier that afternoon. You'd called him out gently on constantly brushing off your feelings, especially around his friends. Instead of taking it seriously, Aj, in typical Aj fashion, deflected with sarcasm. 

You left the room, furious, hurt, disappointed and eyes glossy and then telling him you needed space. Then that space had turned into hours. Long ones.

////_////_////_////

Chunkz was the first to step in. He walked into the room, hands in his pockets, eyes focused, no jokes just serious older brother mode. He stood in front of Aj, blocking the TV. 

 "You gonna keep being an idiot or what?" Chunkz said, looking at Aj straight in the eyes.

"Not in the mood, man" Aj said as he didn't even blink, trying to look past Chunkz. 

"Yeah? Well I'm not in the mood to watch my boy throw away the best thing that's ever happened to him 'cause his pride's doing pushups in the back of his brain" Chunkz said as he observed Aj who stayed quiet. 

"Listen to me yeah? She loves you, bro. She's patient, kind, good to you and you treat her like she's just gonna wait around forever? Grow the hell up" Chunkz said as you next to him and wrapped his one arm around Aj.

 Aj's jaw clenched. 

 "Say one more dumb thing and I swear I'll slap the ego outta you" Chunkz said, voice low, eyes dead serious. 

"This isn't about you being right. This is about you being better. Fix it. Now" Chunkz added as he straightened up, gave Aj a long, final look, and walked out. 

////_////_////_////

Then hours after Chunkz's talking to, there came Sharky. 

 Subtle, surgical and annoying. 

"So... how's it feel knowing you're gonna be single before sundown?" Sharky said as he plopped down next to Aj and stretched. 

"Piss off, get out of here man" Aj said as he side-eyed him. 

 "I'm just saying" Sharky replied casually 

"It takes a special kind of talent to ruin something good and act like you're the victim" Sharky said with a small smile. 

Aj felt uncomfortable and shifted to try and look more composed.

"You know what I noticed? She used to always laugh when you entered a room. Like, proper light-up-the-space laugh. Haven't heard that today" Sharky said as he leaned forward, voice lighter now. 

Aj didn't respond.

 "You good at making jokes, yeah but you're also good at making people cry, apparently" Sharky said. 

 That one stung and it was meant to. 

"You'll either apologize tonight or regret it every day after. Your choice, Romeo"  Sharky said as he clapped him on the back and stood. 

////_////_////_////

After Chunkz and Sharky's annoying attempt of making Aj feel even more horrible than he's currently feeling a few hours ago. Then, came chaos. 

Because Niko and Kenny just bursted into the room dressed in... costumes? 

Kenny wore a bedsheet like a toga, holding a plunger like a sword. Niko had wrapped himself in fairy lights and was holding a speaker over his head playing "Let Me Love You" by Mario. 

 "What the hell--" Aj started. 

 "WE'RE HERE TO SAVE YOUR RELATIONSHIP!" Niko said, dramatically. 

"On behalf of love itself, we command you to get off your sorry arse and APOLOGIZE" Kenny said as he stepped forward dramatically. 

"THIS ISN'T ABOUT PRIDE" Niko said, twirling. 

"IT'S ABOUT HEART AND COMMON SENSE" Niko added. 

 "Do it for her" Kenny said as he begged, fake tears streaming from under his sunglasses. 

"Do it for the story! The grandchildren!" Kenny added.

 Aj stared at them both. Didn't knew whether to be terrified or disgusted by the threatics of his friends. 

 "...Y'all are actually insane" Aj said. 

"Correct" Kenny replied. 

"But we're also right" Niko added.  

"And now she's down there, sad and waiting. Go fix it" Niko said as he pointed to the hallway. 

 And suddenly, between Chunkz's lecture, Sharky's jabs, and these two lunatics prancing around like emotional backup dancers... Aj got it. 

////_////_////_////

After all the convincing doings of his friends, from Chunkz's intimidation to Niko and Kenny's chaos. Aj found his courage to apologize. He walked down the hall, heartbeat loud in his ears. Stopping in your door. Well, technically his door because it's originally his room in the mansion.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out the window, knees tucked up. He knocked softly. 

 "...Yeah?" You said softly, voice done well on trying not to crack.

"Can I come in?" Aj said as he opened the door. 

 You didn't answer right away, hesitating and thinking if this will start another fight but then you gave it a chance as you gave a small nod. 

He stepped inside and sat beside you. For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then said.

"I was a prick, a jerk" Aj said. 

You looked at him, surprised at the bluntness. 

"I made a joke instead of listening and that's on me. I hurt you, I dismissed you and that's not the kind of man I want to be, not for you" Aj said, his sincereness can be noticed in his tone. 

Your eyes softened, but you stayed quiet. You knew Aj wasn't really open about his feelings and when he did open up, it's always the truth.

"I thought being chill meant not being emotional but that just made me cold. I didn't mean to make you feel like your feelings didn't matter. They do, you do" Aj said looking into your eyes, apologetic. 

"I'm sorry, baby, for real" Aj said as he reached for your hand. 

"You made me feel small" You muttered. 

 "I know" Aj whispered. 

"And I'll spend every day making you feel like you're the biggest thing in my world because you are" Aj added. 

You stared at him for a long beat... then finally melted into his arms, holding him tight. 

"I missed you" You mumbled into his hoodie. 

"I missed you too" Aj said as he breathed into your hair. 

"I promise, I'm learning. Just... don't give up on me yet" Aj added. 

"I'm not going anywhere" You said then you leaned back just enough to kiss himsoft, slow, and forgiving. 

////_////_////_//// 

Back in the Living Room where four members of the beta squad sat on the couch, waiting for Aj to comeback with you or just any sign that you both fixed the problem already.

"Do you hear that?" Niko said as he peeked around the corner. 

"They're not yelling" Kenny whispered. 

"That's a good sign" Kenny added. 

"Told you jabs work" Sharky said as he grinned. 

"And a little talking to" Chunkz said with a small smile, arms crossed. 

They waited. Then, Aj and you walked out, hand in hand, your eyes still a little red but smiling. Aj looked... lighter. 

 Everyone tried not to cheer.Then Niko dramatically pressed play on the bluetooth connected speaker again. 

 "LET ME LOOOOOVE YOUUUU--" The speaker spat out loudly and all of you bursted out laughing then just like that, everything felt right again.

- end -

Hello lovelies!!! Top tier consistency, basically carrying the fanfic side of the beta squad rn. Ha! Kidding.

I hope y'all have an amazing day, absolute love and guidance.

As I said everytime, send in some request and ideas!!

[womenlovee]

Hers

pairing: rosita espinosa x fem!reader

summary: rosita can’t stand when someone thinks they can have her wife, so she shows them just who her wife belongs to

warnings: MINORS DNI, fingering (r!receiving), finger riding, slight degrading, jealous rosita, spencer basically being a creep

word count: 1.3k

author’s note: no one asked for this but i genuinely need more content of this woman so i decided to make some myself

“Yeah, just like that. Keep riding my fingers like a good little slut.” Rosita purrs, watching as you desperately grind up and down on her lap.

Rosita knows exactly what she’s doing, especially considering who’s downstairs—Spencer. The limp-dicked excuse for a man who can never seem to look anywhere but your breasts, and who clearly doesn’t know what respecting women looks like.

She can handle someone mistakenly flirting with you before realizing you’re hers—but Spencer? That’s a whole different story.

You’ll openly call Rosita baby or my love, and he’ll just claim it’s friendly. Rosita will grab your ass right in front of him and stick her tongue down your throat, and he’ll say it’s just a phase. Hell, you’ll even flash him the ring Rosita recently proposed to you with, and he’ll still find an excuse.

Spencer gets under her skin in ways she never thought possible. So when she was mid-way through stripping you out of your clothes and heard the annoying sound of his voice downstairs, a whole new animal came out.

Usually, she has to clamp her hand over your mouth or throat to keep you quiet—but now? Now she wants the whole town to hear you.

Hear you as she claims you again and again and again, until your legs are basically dead.

And here you are—grinding on her lap, thrusting your body up and down on her long, tan fingers, whimpering like a desperate little thing, every noise spilling from your lips just fueling the fire burning hot in Rosita’s chest.

“That’s it, baby.” She coaxes, her voice thick with lust as she curls her fingers deep inside you, making you arch helplessly. “Let them hear how good I make you feel. Let that puta know you belong to me.”

Your hands clutch at her shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of her shirt, but Rosita doesn’t slow down. If anything, she picks up the pace, driving her fingers into you harder, faster, her thumb finding that sensitive spot that makes your whole body jerk.

“Rosita.” You gasp, hips stuttering against her, thighs trembling.

“Uh-uh.” She growls low against your ear, biting down lightly on the shell of it. “You don’t get to cum yet. Not until you tell me. Tell me who you belong to.”

Your mind is fogged with pleasure, your body strung tight, but you manage to choke it out because you have no other choice—not when she’s got you like this.

“You, Rosita.” You sob, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I’m yours. Only yours.”

“Yeah? What does this say then?” Rosita asks, using her free hand to grab your left wrist, lifting your hand in front of both of you to see the glistening diamond ring.

“That I’m yours until forever falls apart.” You gasp out, her fingers hitting the right spot inside of you.

A dark, satisfied chuckle rumbles from her chest. “Damn right.”

She doesn’t stop. She doesn’t let you breathe.

She’s relentless, fucking you open on her fingers until you’re practically falling apart, crying her name like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

And downstairs, Spencer’s probably listening. Maybe he finally gets it now.

He gets to listen to Rosita fucking you. Her wife.

He doesn’t get to see the way you tremble in her lap. The way your pussy grips her fingers so tight when you come undone. The way you slump into her and pant in her ear, telling her how good she makes you feel.

Rosita slowly slips her fingers out of you, her touch suddenly gentle, almost reverent. She brings her hand up to her mouth, sucking her fingers clean with a smug, satisfied hum—her dark eyes never leaving your flushed, fucked-out face.

“You’re so good for me, mi amor.” She murmurs, pressing a kiss to your damp forehead.

Your body shudders weakly in her arms, and Rosita chuckles softly before pulling you closer, cradling you into her like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“Let’s go get you something to eat because I am far from being done with you.” Rosita rasps as her hands trail down your warm, naked body.

She swiftly stands up with you wrapped around her waist before setting you down gently onto the bed. After scavenging through the dresser, she pulls out one of her baggy sleep shirts and tosses it softly over to you along with a pair of comfy shorts.

“As much as I’d love to keep you naked, there are people downstairs, and they’ll never get the privilege of seeing what’s mine.”

Her words send a jolt straight through your core, causing you to shiver slightly.

Rosita must have noticed, because she leans down with a cheeky smirk before giving you a breathtaking kiss—slow, deep, claiming.

You sigh into her mouth, your body already buzzing again just from her touch.

Rosita pulls away with a soft growl, resting her forehead against yours. “Get dressed, baby. I need to feed you before I really break you.”

There’s a promise in her voice—dark, wicked, and so full of love that it makes your heart ache.

You slip on the oversized shirt and shorts, still feeling the aftershocks of what she just did to you. Rosita watches you the whole time, possessive and hungry, like she’s already planning the next round.

Hand in hand, she guides you down the stairs, stepping one down in front of you while holding your hand up to keep you steady. Abraham, Spencer, and Eugene all sit in the living room, Abe and Eugene conversing about god knows what while Spencer tries to subtly look at the two of you.

His gaze catches the sight of the hickies blooming down your neck along with the slight tremble of your legs with every step you take.

Rosita doesn’t hide it.

She wants him to see.

She wants everyone to see.

Rosita quickly pulls you into her lap at one of the seats of the table, handing you the now opened can of peaches along with a fork. Her arm remains protectively wrapped around your waist, pulling your back further into her chest, not that you mind.

Spencer tries to mumble something under his breath, but when Rosita hears the words ‘I can make her feel better’. She sees red.

“Hey, pendejo!” The girl shouts across the room before squeezing your face gently between one of her hands, turning your head towards the target. “You see this?”

Spencer doesn’t answer, but when he makes direct eye contact to her, she knows he’s listening.

“This. She is mine. She’s in my clothes. She moans my name. She. Is. Mine.” Rosita’s teeth grits harder with each word before she removes her hand from your face and places it flatly below your chest.

Abe watches with a sly grin, but pretends his focus is on something else. Spencer on the other hand has no idea what to say. No smug or cocky response left on the tip of his tongue.

“Keep your fucking eyes to yourself unless you want to lose them.” She says coldly, her voice sharp enough to slice through steel.

Silence.

Spencer doesn’t say another word.

You smile to yourself as you lean back into Rosita’s arms, feeling safer, and more claimed than ever.

You’re hers.

Until forever falls apart.

[the-haunted-office]

Doom shrugs when he says she's glad she's here now and that she keeps going. It's a gesture made in half-agreement with him, although she doesn't elaborate on what she means by it.

The truth is, she's only here because she kept refusing to die when the Narrative dictated that her time was up... and now she can't die. Or rather, she can't stay dead, not permanently, and not in a way that matters. She is going to essentially live forever past eternity, until all the universes in the multiverse end, and then when that happens, the mangled remains of her soul are going to be forced into the In-Between, where she will remain for the remainer of... whatever happens when time ceases to be. It's something she can't even imagine. Like trying to think of what a new color will look like if that color was a curse.

The additional truth is, there are plenty of days where she doesn't want to keep going, but she has no choice.

She wonders if Russell understands what that's like.

Doom just grins. "Oh, I'd have found a way to make you to hate me, trust me. All drains lead to the ocean, as they say, ehehehe. In this case meaning, it would have happened eventually, ehehehehe."

Oh, weren't those the days, everybody hating her no matter what she did, and so it was easier to intentionally do things to make people hate her. At least then it was by her own design.

"Or are you saying that if I had chased you into the ocean, thus curing your fear of it, you'd have forgiven me? What if there was a kaiju down there? Or sand? You know how scary sand is, Russell," she snickers, changing her voice to impersonate Anakin Skywalker. "It's so... sandy and coarse. Ehehehe."

Russell was already getting the awful feeling that Doom had been through absolute pain and trauma. The brief silence couldn't help but give him that concern.

So he decided that all he could really hope for next was that she was healing from her experience.

"Y-yeah, you, you are," Russell said, "And, and I, I hope you're, you're rec-recovering well from, from that. I, I can only imagine the, the kind of, of exp-experience it, it was."

But he tugged at his own sleeve.

"I'll, I'll take your, your word for that. You don't, you don't need to, to prove it, or anything. I, I believe you," Russell said, "And I'm, I'm glad you're, you're here now and, and, and keep-keeping on going."

But then Russell nodded.

"I, I guess that, that makes sense," Russell said, "After that, that sorta thing, it, it would be hard to, to be af-afraid of, of much else. Heh, m-maybe. Or, or maybe I, I would have tried to, to find some way to, to co-exist with, with you."

[khruschevshoe]

You know, I saw all the Orpheus and Eurydice web weaving posts for Clara and 12. I saw all of the Hadestown references on all of your posts. And yet none of that actually prepared me for watching Hell Bent and going oh. Oh shit.

Because I knew about the confession dial and what he does in Heaven Sent to get her back. I know the general plot of Hell Bent. I did not realize he literally shows up with a guitar at the beginning and end of it all. That he went to the underworld in Heaven Sent and comes out of the underworld in Hell Bent and manages not to look back but only because he's planning on never looking back. He's planning on wiping her mind and so instead she looks back and dooms him, wiping his mind, and he ends the entirety of their run playing his guitar into the desert to a ghost. He will never get her back because she looked back. She will forever haunt him because he succeeded and failed at the same time. Because she wrenched her agency out of the situation. And he doesn't remember her, she can't remember her, but he is haunted by her. He is LITERALLY PLAYING HER SONG at the end of it.

I finally understand why people are so obsessed with the twelveclara dynamic, and I would put at least fifty bucks on the idea that Steven Moffat looked at how the Ten/Donna subplot ended in Journey's End (Doctor and companion become a hybrid and the Doctor realizes that if he doesn't wipe her memories she'll die because she has too much Time Lord in her) and went how do I Orpheus/Eurydice this shit but flip the table as to who is Orpheus and who is Eurydice at the last second? Who gets to walk into hell and who gets to look back and who gets to be haunted? BOTH OF THEM. ALWAYS BOTH OF THEM. THEY WILL HAUNT EACH OTHER UNTIL THE END OF TIME ITSELF.

Now excuse me while I go scream into my pillow-

(Also, this all your fault, @twelvesbian, I hope you're happy.)