#and then you SHOT HIM DOWN IN THE MIDDLE OF IT

[gojoscinnamonroll]

thinking about messing with ino! while he’s in the middle of a video game; he has been playing on that stupid game for what feels like hours and even though he’ll ask you every 10 minutes or so, “baby, are you okay?” “princess, do you need anything?” etc etc, you were still annoyed on how his video game had more of his attention than you.

so, when you finally got fed up and bored of lying on his bed scrolling mindlessly on tiktok, pinterest, instagram, and twitter on rotation for what feels like eons, you set your phone down and with a mischievous grin, walked over to him in his gaming chair and got on your knees. “whatcha doin’ pretty baby?” he asked with his eyes still glued to the screen, “oh, nothing… don’t mind me, just go back to playing your game ‘kay?” you looked up at him with a innocent smile. but in your head, you were thinking about how you were going to punish him for giving his attention to a stupid game on a tv than you being right in front of him and in his presence.

you started caressing at the bulge in his grey sweatpants and his breath hitched. ino was trying really hard to lock in and focus on getting his victory royale but he also wanted to just throw his controller across the room & watch you take him. “what’s wrong baby? thought you were too focused on your game? hm?” giving him a playful smile as you pull his length out of his sweatpants, pumping it a few times before pressing a kiss to his swollen tip already oozing with pre. "I- I am baby.." he exhaled as you felt him melt into your touch. you licked along the vein trailing down his cock slowly before enveloping him with your soft lips. he let out a low whine as you slowly take him whole. he didn't realize his character in game was dying over and over from being shot at because it wasn't moving until you stopped to look up at him with doe eyes and glossy lips, "focus.." you purred. "your game isn't going to win itself now is it?" he snapped out of his daze to focus on his game again, "y-yeah, you're right" he stuttered with flushed cheeks. you went back to stroking him again with delicate hands and your pretty mouth.

"f-fuuck mama, you f-feel so good" ino moaning as your head goes up and down him and gently playing with his balls overstimming him as he tries to concentrate on winning his game. teasing him, you trail a few kisses up and down his length as you murmured against him, "I'm sure I do..." still leaving kisses. "too bad you don't give your poor little girlfriend the same amount of attention as your silly little game."

whimpering, he starts to profusely apologize, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby, I'll get off the game and give you all my attention, I p-promise, you're making me feel so good, I-"

you interrupt him. "win this game for me and I'll let you be a good boy and cum down my throat" tapping his tip onto your pink, glossy pout with a pretend thinking face.

his eyes light up like a kid in a candy store and starts spamming all types of buttons on his controller eager to win this game as you continue to bobble down his cock, drool spilling from the sides of your lips and getting so sloppy that you can practically blow bubbles on him.

VICTORY ROYALE!! pops up and takes over the screen of the tv and he starts blabbering as he starts thrusting himself into your mouth, "baby baby baby baby can I- mmph.. can I c-cum please, please can I cum?" he throws the controller to the other side of the room and starts gripping onto the armrests of the game chair until his knuckles started turning white. "c'mon you nerd," you looked at him with lust in your eyes, "give it to me." as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out for him to release his load down your throat.

"thankyouthankyouthankyou" he rambled as you milked him for all he had. "learned your lesson? you goof." you laughed.

"yes. yes i did." getting up from the chair and kicking the rest of his sweats off and throwing them to the side to lean down and pick you up princess style and laying you down in the bed.

"now i'm going to make it up to you, your highness" kissing your hand teasingly and sliding your shorts off.

likes + reblogs appreciated <3 please don't steal/copy/modify my works!

[hanniebaeee]

Welcome Home

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing!

Genre: Flufff

Summary: Your boyfriend Hyunjin is so excited to take you home for the very first time. The catch? He's the King of the Underworld, and his home is well...the Underworld.

You stood in the middle of your bedroom, staring down at the pile of clothes you were desperately trying to pack. You had a suitcase open in front of you, but you're not really sure what to pack, really. Because someone wasn't being really helpful with this whole packing thing.

You throw a glance at Hyunjin, who stood leaning against your doorway, arms crossed, watching you.

Hyunjin. The King of the Underworld. Your very own boyfriend, who was bouncing off the walls completely excited for your trip to the Underworld for the very first time.

You'd be spending six months with him in his world, which was an agreement you two came to, to make this thing work. Especially since him being a God restricted his prolonged periods of absence from the underworld. 

"Are you almost done?" Hyunjin asked, his voice dripping with impatience as he came over and hovered over you like a shadow. 

“You could help me, you know,” You said dryly. “Do I need sweaters? Is your dungeon cold?”

“Excuse you, I don't live in a dungeon.” Hyunjin  scoffed dramatically, a hand on his hip. "You don't need a sweater. Actually you don't need half of what you're packing, trust me."

"Oh, I won’t? Then tell me what I should bring, Your Majesty," you said, raising an eyebrow as he discarded a sweater from your suitcase. "You won’t be cold because it's eternally warm where I live."

You threw up your hands in exasperation.

"Ok, fine, fine. What else?"

"Now, get rid of the rest. You won’t need anything." Hyunjin said as he plopped onto your bed, looking far too smug for someone who lived in a literal hellhole.

“Baby, can you please just-” You began, but Hyunjin groaned, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, nuzzling into your neck.

"You won’t need any of these clothes anyway," he mumbled, dismissing a pair of jeans you had just picked out. “It’s just us down there. You’ll be fine in your skin."

"Excuse me?" You shot him an incredulous look. "What do you mean, I won't need any clothes?!"

Hyunjin giggled, his hands wandering to your waist, pulling you closer.

"Well, if you really want to wear them..." He grinned, but then his smile softened. “But I think you’ll look better without them.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and tried not to smile. You were trying to resist, but the way he gazed at you made it impossible. Hyunjin knew exactly how to tame you.

“You're crazy,” You laugh, as he left soft kisses along the side of your neck.

“Darling, I’m the King of the Underworld. I’m prepared to have my Queen home. You really don't have to worry about anything.” He leaned down to kiss your cheek, just barely grazing your skin. "Trust me. It’s just us and Cerberus. Oh, and a few souls here and there…"

“Hyunjin, I'm genuinely worried now.” You managed, prying yourself off his grip. 

“Don't be!! Cerberus will be there to protect you. He's the best dog in the world.” Hyunjin’s face lit up as he spoke of his beloved pet. “You’ll love him.”

“Sure I will.” You said, narrowing your eyes at Hyunjin as he discreetly pushed a stack of clothes away from your suitcase. “YAH! STOP IT!”

“Ok, I'm done,” you finally announced, slamming the lid of your suitcase shut. You turned to face Hyunjin and found him lying on your bed with his arms tucked behind his head.

You barely had a moment to lift your suitcase before Hyunjin was by your side. And the transition from your bedroom to the underworld was...well…unexpected, to say the least. You were surrounded by an eerie, otherworldly glow - and then, everything was bathed in shadows and lit by flickering torches.

As soon as your feet touched the black stone floor of Hyunjin’s home, he held you close and murmured, “Welcome home, my queen,”

You rolled your eyes, even though your heart fluttered. Before you could respond, a deep growl cut through the air.

You froze, whipping your head to the side. There, standing just a few feet away, was Cerberus, Hyunjin’s very own baby - with his three heads, and the most terrifying growl you’d ever heard. Hyunjin grinned as he stepped forward and hugged the massive dog. 

“Cerby! There’s my boy! Look, it’s mummy!” Hyunjin called out excitedly. “Now, be a good boy and don’t scare her. We’re on a tight schedule here.”

And just like that, the beast started wagging its tail, all three heads giving you the most intense side-eye, but no longer growling.

“Come on, babe, don't be rude!” Hyunjin said, holding out his hand to you.

You could see how excited he is and you knew that he'd never put you in danger, so you take his hand, letting him pull you closer. 

Cerberus let out a low whine and nudged one of his massive heads against you. You froze for a moment, and then reached out to pet him. Surprisingly, his fur was soft under your fingers, and his eyes literally glowed with joy as you scratched behind one of his ears.

Hyunjin’s smirk returned as he watched you interact with his son.

“See? Told you he’s the goodest boy.” He said, kissing your cheek. “And, he’s got your back, babe. He’ll protect you from anything.”

“Protect me from what exactly?” you asked, still petting Cerberus.

“From me, of course,” Hyunjin said with a teasing wink, his hold on you tightening. “You know…so that I don't get carried away.”

You laughed, and said, “This is called digging your own grave, Hyunjin.”

Cerberus huffed and gave an exaggerated snarl, the middle head baring its teeth at Hyunjin’s proximity to you.

“He’s just protective. He’s never seen me like this before, you know.” he said, completely unbothered. 

You giggled, rubbing Cerberus's ear affectionately.

Hyunjin’s hands slid down your back and he pressed his lips against your neck.

“I’m so happy you're finally here, baby,” he said, his lips trailing down your throat, his hands now sliding over your waist, trying to pull you into him completely. His fingers caressed your jawline as he leaned down, his lips so close to yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jinnie,” You whispered, and Hyunjin leaned in to capture your lips in a soft kiss. He hummed as your fingers ran through his hair, and just then Cerberus let out a deep, low growl.

Hyunjin (clearly frustrated now) shot him a look and said, “I’ve got this under control, Cerby.” 

You bit your lower lip to stop yourself from laughing as Hyunjin’s hands slid lower, stopping right on your butt, just as Cerberus gave a gentle nudge to your side.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and said, “I swear, you're such a cockblock.”

“He’s just trying to make sure I survive my first night here with you.” you said and Hyunjin laughed darkly, his eyes burning with mischief and desire.

“Oh, don’t worry, my queen.” He murmured, and kissed you again, slow and deep. “And believe me…you’re going to love it here with me.

As you walked through Hyunjin’s obsidian-tiled palace of shadow and flame, you couldn't help but admire the place. The tiles beneath your feet were lit by the golden glow of molten rivers that twisted like veins under the black floors.

Even as he led you to his bedroom, his hands moved down your back, and Cerberus let out a softer growl - almost like a sigh - as if he had given up on trying to stop Hyunjin.

“So what do you think?” He asked, stopping in front of a beautiful room. 

You gave an appreciating nod, and said, “I love it.”

“Yeah? You do? Are you happy?”

“What's not to love? I've got the sweetest dog and a completely unhinged god here to protect me. This is perfect.”

Hyunjin looked down at you with that wicked grin of his.

“Babe, you have no idea just how good this is going to be,” he said. 

And you couldn't help but agree

[the-moons-tears]

Scaramouche x reader (Spiderman au)

GUYS GUYS SPIDER-MAN SCARA BRAINROT EIFJEJDCKKEFM gods i CANT

Hot emo spider boy grrr

Not very spicy (a bit at the end) this is pretty much just a plot that I enjoyed writing about

Preview:

"all you have to do is keep your pretty eyes open, and try not to fall behind."

Blues, greens, whites, and reds zoomed by the eye coverings on your mask. Noises from the city and its traffic flared up in your ears and ended as soon as they came. The sharp wind whipping your hair around, and the feeling of your suit moving with your body made you feel alive.

Your hands moved methodically in a pull up, release, and shoot cycle. The strong webbing that was naturally formed in your body shot out through a tiny slit in your wrist, and the cut in your suit fabric made it easy to shoot out of.

The ground seemed so far away every time you launched yourself up into the night air, but became almost touchable when you let gravity take you back down. Your lungs took in large amounts of air and released heavily through the mask fabric.

When you arrived at a certain large skyscraper, you began your ascent. The webbing that flew out hit the glass panels which you used to propel you upwards. The noises from the city below grew quieter as you neared the top roof with the internet tower sitting in the middle.

Your hand grasped the edge of the building and used your upward force to swing over the ledge onto the roof surface. Standing upright, the wind hit you and blew your hair away from your face showing you the view that you never got tired of. The city looked so small from there. Leaning over where you just came from, this was definitely the tallest building in your city.

Planes overhead made their presence known by the blinking lights that were flashing from their bodies. Above them lay the stars, although you couldn't see them because of the light pollution. The silence, even though so many things were happening, was always strange. It just showed how high up you were. The wind was your only company with its occasional howl coming from any direction.

Although, your solitude didn't last long. A cold sensation ran down your spine and an instinctual alert inside your mind told you something was coming. A figure, black as the night above came so fast at you, you didn't have time to react.

In a tangle of arms and at the speed of the impact, you and the figure crashed into the part of the roof that led to stairs to the floors below. A loud grunt came from the figure beside you when their head hit the wall.

Your own body had slammed into the stone pretty hard. Obviously it was much worse for you since the impact sent you into the wall first. A strangled gasp for air escaped your lungs after it had been knocked out and you fell to your side with your vision spinning. Rough hands turned you over, ripped off your mask from your face, and grabbed you over your mouth. The other hand held your shoulder to the ground.

Above you, the figure, who you figured was a male, was breathing hard. The hand over your mouth gripped hard, and your attempts to speak failed. In your panic, you shot webbing onto his face with your free hand and kicked him back once you got a leg up from underneath him.

Immediately once you had enough free space, you made a dash for the edge so you could jump off. Alarms went off in your mind again, making you duck in time to see a web shooting overhead at what would have been your neck. The next one, however, you couldn't dodge in time.

White webbing caught your ribs and pulled you to the man again. Before you could blink, you were wrapped in web that was holding you in all directions. You couldn't move, and your mask that protected your identity lay away from you on the ground. When you finally were still, you could see clearly who he was.

Short violet hair moved in the wind revealing a black mask with purple and blue iridescent web looking designs interlacing it. The body suit also had the same design. The person's mask ended at their hairline, letting the bangs that were there fall over it. Everyone had seen him, he was quite famous although no one knew his real identity. The savior of teyvat city, spiderman.

He ran a hand through his hair rubbing the spot that hit the wall and let out a long sigh. "I really wanted an easy night tonight..." the man ran his hands down his face and walked toward you. Without gentleness, he grabbed you face again and tilted it how he pleased.

"What the hell-do you always treat people this way?"

"Well most people I come across that have any sort of power aren't exactly wishing the city a merry Christmas."

Fair. From what you had seen, every time he made an appearance was when a supernatural threat was in the city, like that one battle with a giant lizard you saw on YouTube. You'd seen what he was capable of, and that he probably didn't have any intention other than protecting the city, so you decided to be compliant.

For a bit, he was silent. He brought a hand up that had your webbing that was on his face on it, and his silver eyes on his mask narrowed.

"I watched you swing up here from a distance before attacking you. You shot this from your wrist."

"Yeah, I'm guessing you want a backstory?"

"Normally I wouldn't care, but your web is the same make as mine. It's not coincidental." He then waved his hand for you to speak.

You simplified the story as needed in your head, and begin to tell about your spider experience.

...

You were in college enjoying your student life when it happened. With your university being so close to ILDOTTORE Inc., a lot of students came to study in the sciences, you being one of them.

In one of your leisurely afternoons at the campus park, you were sitting on a bench just looking at the wind blow through the trees when you felt a sharp pain on your hand. The pain continued to spike when you pulled your hand up and shook it. Looking at your palm, sitting there was an iridescent spider that had its fangs lodged in your skin.

It looked abnormal for sure. Its eyes were bigger and it's legs were longer. A strange symbol was marked on its back, almost like an experimental number you would put on test subjects. Without a thought you immediately slapped the spider.

When it didn't come off the first hit, you took off your shoe and pressed it to your hand, not caring about the dirt because the bite hurt. When you got the spider off your hand, you relaxed thinking you'd definitely killed it.

Feeling something moving on your thigh, you looked down and jumped from your sitting position with your hand swatting at your thigh. The spider, with one less leg now, was crawling up your leg until you swat it off.

"Oh hell no, die hoe." You took the shoe that was still off and put it quickly back on your foot. As the spider was speeding away, you chased it a couple of steps from the bench and stomped on it like you'd never put your foot on the ground before. After twisting your foot back and forth on the spider, you took your shoe off an examined if it was really dead.

It twitched only once even though it was completely crushed, but that was enough to smush it again until you were only looking at a black smudge on the concrete path.

Ever since that day, you had to stay in your apartment with a sick excuse because of the changes your body was undergoing. The pain was blaring. Your hands would stick to things randomly, and your vision would shift from regular to being able to see through walls. You felt feather light, could move faster, and jump higher.

The strangest parts were the fact that you could shoot webbing from openings in your wrists, and that you would get a strange feeling when something was about to happen. Your reaction time had heightened and your body molded itself into being fitter.

After days of change and determining that the spider gave you those powers, you found ways to control your new abilities. You even made yourself a suit from your webbing. After school days, you would practice in a remote alleyway what all you could do. Swinging around and climbing walls wasn't as hard as you thought. Watching videos of Spider-Man's fights also gave you some tips on how to move well. You were around one month into your new experience before this incident.

...

"So that's where it went...And you made sure 100% that you killed the spider?"

"The only thing left was a blot on the ground. Pretty sure it's dead."

"Great. My two problems have been cut to one."

You wondered if the problem he was referring to was you and the spider. You were correct.

"So can you let me out now?" You wiggled the only movable thing your body, which was your hands. Spider-Man laughed sarcastically and stepped backwards to sit onto the edge of the building. The wind picked up swaying his hair, and his eye pieces on his mask moved in a gleeful expression that you knew had a teasing glint in them.

"Nah, you can get out yourself. You're the same as me right?"

The same? You huffed and looked around you spotting the places his web connected to other structures that held you in place. Angling your hands in the direction of the connection, you shot a web and held on to the end. Your web connected to the place his was stuck on and you pulled with your hand as far away as you could.

His web snapped off, letting one arm loose. From there you broke yourself free from all the webbing. Walking with your back turned to him, you picked your mask up off the ground, moved your hair out of your face, and put it back on.

Suddenly, you felt a web come in contact with your back. Turning around, you saw that spiderman wasn't there anymore. A long web was quickly sliding down off the edge, and you noticed too late that the web was connected to you.

With a scream, you were yanked forward and launched off the building. Looking down, you spotted Spider-Man diving down with the web that held you in one of his hands. When his fall had reached around half of the buildings height, we shot a web from his free hand and began a swing.

"You better shoot a web, I'm gonna let go!" Although most of his words got lost in the wind, you got the message. As soon as you shot a string, the web on your back became loose. You quickly yanked it off your back and swung with your other hand to catch up to him.

You synced up your swing timing to match his, but as soon as you did he changed direction. you caught up to him stopping on a building top where he hung off the side waiting for you.

"You're slow." Indigo hair blew in the wind and his head tilted. His arm hung out in the wind beside him while he held onto the edge with his other.

"Well maybe I would have caught up faster if someone didn't pull me off the tallest building in the city. Secondly, I'm still knew to this whole thing." You landed a bit below him with a web holding you to the building. The man above you laughed and spoke in a haughty tone,

"all you have to do is keep your pretty eyes open, and try not to fall behind." His hand left the edge letting gravity take him. Diving after him, you followed him through narrow alleyways and under highways. It was hard to see him because his suit was so dark, but the iridescent colors on his chest guided you.

You didn't know why you were following him, or better yet why he was indirectly telling you to. Chasing him around in sporadic movements soon became easier. It almost felt like he was training you.

At one point, he disappeared from your vision. Coming to a stop in a dark street where no cars were coming, you looked around. A sharp zing went off in your head, making you turn around in time to see a web come in contact with your face. The mask attached came off and your hand shot up to cover your face.

"Hey! You don't know who's around here, and there may be cameras in this area!" You yelled out in the direction the web came from with your hands over your whole face.

"If you can't block a simple thing like that, and by the way that wasn't even an attack, you're not going to survive fights or the media." A sultry voice spoke near your left ear.

You turned pretending to not be surprised by his sudden closeness. "What are you even talking about-"

"You think you can go back to normal society with these powers? You're already all over the media from swinging around tonight with me."

Spider-Man shoved your mask on your hands that cover yourself and you quickly put the mask back on. When you remove your hands, the first thing you see is a phone screen reading,

Another spider joins Spider-Man? Two swinging figures seen around teyvat city tonight, watch the video footage!

With narrowed 'I'm-not-having-it' eyes, you looked at him behind the phone, "you did this on purpose didn't you."

"The point is, you're now obligated to protecting the city whether you want to or not. It would be better if I trained you so you don't end up wasting your abilities by dying early."

My gods. Everything was happening so fast. Your hand came up to rub your temple through the mask because of the headache that rose.

Your hands went out in a calm down motion. "Ok ok give me a minute. I'm in college and I do have a lot of time, but how am I going to balance these two things? And how on earth are we going to meet up, to quote you, train?"

"Well I make it work with my classes. We can set a schedule for you to meet me at the building we first came in contact."

You mean the place you nearly busted my head open you thought to yourself before you caught an important detail in his words.

"You're in college?" You pause and look at Spider-Man who has his arms crossed. Silence before he spoke,

"No-"

"Oh wow you're younger than everyone thinks. I thought you were like 30 or something."

"Do I sound anything like thirty?" He said aggravated as he shot another web in your face making you take a couple steps back and struggle to get it off.

From that spot, you both worked out a plan to meet up three times a week on the tallest building roof. The first few weeks were rough, and they made you realize how tasking his job was. His training was rigorous, but you caught on fairly well. There were a couple times you went to grab his mask in hand to hand combat, only for you to fail and for him to flick your forehead. You tried making conversation, to which he didn't necessarily ignore you, but he kept his answers short and vague.

"So what major are you in since you won't answer which college you're at?" You poked his shoulder from where you were both sitting on the edge of the building.

"I'm an art student..."

"Actually?" You leaned forward and peered into the eyes on his mask. He nodded and went on staring out at the city. "What kind of medium do you like to use?"

"Charcoal most of the time. Occasional graphite or spray paint."

"I'll have to see some of your work sometime when we're not training. I really enjoy art."

"hmm..."

Over the next few times you two met, Spider-Man would let himself be more carefree with you in your now frequent conversations after training on top of the building. On one of your more tiring training sessions, a thought came into your head. This is merely training, what about real fights. Getting beaten and bruised with the media filming all of it. Was it ever lonely or stressful all by himself?

When you both sat down on the edge, you asked the question.

"It is lonely, being the only one in this position? Saving the city all by yourself?"

"It...was lonely, but now I'm too preoccupied dealing with your annoying ass to be like that."

"Aww, did my 'annoying ass' fill the void in your heart?" You exaggerated the last bit and poked his shoulder.

"Pshh." He pushed your poking hand off of him and tried to shoot a web at you again, but you dodged it. When his hand shot the web, you took the opportunity to try to grab his mask again. It had honestly become a thing to tease him with.

This time however, was different. He just seemed to sit there and let your hand wrap around the edges of his mask, taking it off and exposing his face. His hair whipped around in the wind, the violet bangs brushing his forehead. Long eyelashes and eyes that blinked slowly, almost teasingly so. His irises, like the color on his suit, but with depth and a color you could only describe as mesmerizing. Skin soft and a rosy pair of lips that parted slightly as you took the mask away. You almost reached out to touch him.

"Your eye pieces are wide open, what's the matter~?" His hand extends a bit and closes your slightly open mouth. He doesn't even bother to take the mask back from you, and instead just leans back on the ledge and throws his head back. Adam's apple moving as he swallows slightly.

"Uh-" you cleared your throat and tried looking at him again to speak, but when you did his eyes were locked with yours making your lungs close up.

"Scaramouche."

His voice brought you back. "What? Like Bohemian rhapso-"

"My name dumbass. You can use that instead of Spider-Man. Of course, not in public..."

You took off your own mask and set it beside his that now lay between you both. The wind felt good on your face, you hadn't taken it off in a while up there. There was a silence that hung from that point. You both rested there in your seated positions, and scaramouche could have sworn he heard you try out his name on your tongue.

...

The next month was peaceful. Winter break had begun, so you were able to rest at your apartment and spend more time with scaramouche. He actually started letting you into his life. You learned where he went to college and got to see a lot of his art projects in his own living space, although he kept some of them hidden from you for reasons unknown to you. Of course, you couldn't leave him alone about them and would always be trying to search for them when he wasn't looking.

"Hey, what do you say to getting a drink at- what the hell do you have in your hand?"

You stood there at his sketching desk, with papers that made your eyes wide. On the parchment, were graphite sketches of...you. The way the details on your face were so accurate made you blush furiously. All those times he would just seem to stare at you when your mask was off, was he looking so intently so he could draw you? The answer was right in front of your face.

Gods you were in deep. Not only did you develop feelings for him when you started training, but seeing this made you realize it was probably not one-sided.

Quick footsteps came behind you and a hand reached out to take the papers from you. Turning to him, you were surprised to see scaramouche's face close to yours with glaring eyes and a red that reached his ears.

"Did I not say that you weren't allowed to see those?"

Nothing came out your mouth. Your lips only parted to try and give an apology, and you didn't miss the way his eyes flicked down to your parted mouth. His eyes said so much, but you could see there was a fear in them as well.

...

After that incident, not much was said between you. The very next day you met on the tallest building once more. It was the day that you two would spar, like every other time right?

Wrong. You were both distracted. Every grab on your arm shot electricity through your soul, more than before. The same could be said for him. The distraction caused an accidental blow to the face, which knocked your mask off.

"Ah shit, are you al-" his voice cut short. You were leaning back against the wall behind you that he first encountered you on. Your chest was heaving and visible breath from the temperature came from your mouth. You looked too good to him in that moment, so he let his desires take over.

"Yeah I'm good...it just knocked my mask off-" a strong grip pushed you against the wall.

"Hey what-" Looking up at him, you saw his hand reach up and rip off his mask, his violet hair messily flowing around. He threw it to the floor before grabbing your face and smashing his lips on yours.

Your hands instinctively grabbed his suit turtleneck collar and pulled him into you. He wasted no time pushing his tongue past your lips and putting his body flush against yours. Surprised sounds left you as you could barely breath. He was desperate, hungry, and could no longer hold himself back.

The drawings were his only cope to deal with the feelings. Gods he was scared, scared that you would want to end the whole partner thing if you knew. Now all those doubts dissipated when he felt you meld your lips back with his when he tried to part your mouths.

Hands ran down your ribs and to your waist. His fingers were gripping you with need, and his mouth kissed you with abandon. Scaramouche never wanted to take his lips of yours, not after he'd waited so long gazing at you, watching the way you tried to do what he did, and feeling your covered skin when you fought.

Neither of you needed to breathe. You believed you could be sustained solely by each other's lips.

Only after several minutes of pure bliss in each other's mouths did you break apart for much needed air. You gasped and panted, and scaramouche did the same. He rested his head on your shoulder in the aftermath, just feeling your warmth that enveloped him despite the cold winds.

"Want to head to my apartment? We can um...continue there if you also want to-"

"Yes.”

You blushed when his hands wrapped around you and his face turned to kiss your jaw.

"I wonder if the media would like to know that Spider-Man is a romantic."

"Shut up..." He gave a slight laugh and slowly drew away from you. His eyes were clearly glazed over with a need for more, but he'd save it for when you were both warmer in your home. After picking up your masks off the ground, you both quickly made your way to your home where you couldn't stop scaramouche from starting to kiss your nape and skin before you even got into your apartment room.

[koolades-world]

this piece is based off this post, which you can find here. I had heard it as an audio at first actually and fell in love with it. it's kind of essential for this read. it's basically talking about how before their loved one guessed their favorite color was yellow, they didn't have one. after that, yellow was special! sooo cute and i though luci fit in perfectly as the speaker!!! if you were tuned yesterday for my solomon birthmarks fic, this is two out of my four ideas! i had one more in my drafts that i decided to throw in for fun

so so excited to write this. so fluffy!!!

the color of happiness

"Don't forget about your coffee, Mc." Lucifer nudged the cup towards you, acting as a gentle reminder of it's existance.

"Right, right. Just let me finish this thought." You were laser focused on the paper you were in the middle of planning. You were desperate to get all the thoughts out before you inevitable got distracted and forgot everything.

"I don't mean to dissuade you from your schoolwork, but it's getting cold." He chuckled at your half assed attempt to wave him off.

"You can just reheat it with magic." You stuck out your tongue ever so slightly as you scribbled.

"And what if I can't?" Lucifer was practically enchanted with your little mannerisms.

"You can and would. I know you. You'd find a way to make it happen for me." Despite how smug you sounded, he knew you were right. He'd jump through however many hoops as he had to for you.

There was no coming back from your words, so he went back to his own work. By the time he'd restarted, you'd stopped for a break, and were ready to bug him.

"On that note, I feel like I know so much about you, yet so little at the same time." You held the mug in one hand, the other underneath your chin as you gazed up at him.

"What prompted this?" Lucifer set down his pen despite just having gotten back to work. He'd felt like the two of you knew each other quite well. You'd been through thick and thin together, even defied death at each others side.

"Let's play twenty-one questions!" You ignored his question. Perhaps you just wanted an excuse to hear his voice.

"Alright. I can't say I've played before, but I know of it." He found himself smiling again, as he often did around you.

"It's easy! We just ask each other questions to get to know each other better."

"Which one of your brothers is your favorite?" You asked. He hadn't been expecting such a hard hitter of a question at first

"Must I answer?" He joked.

"Come on! Alright, then which do you hate the least?" You suppressed laughter.

"Do not shout this from the rooftops, but, Mammon." He already knew how'd you'd react, but he still found himself amused when you inevitably did.

"I knew it!" You celebrated, throwing your arms in the air. "Alright, your turn."

He absentmindedly messed with his gloves. "What is your favorite part of human world?" Lucifer had thought hard about that question. You seemed too enthusiastic about the entire thing, and he couldn't help but cave.

"That's an easy one! The sunrise. I would almost never wake up in time for it, but it's so beautiful." Your eyes sparkled. He made a mental note to plan a surprise trip to the human world for you. "I've actually been dying to know the answer to this next question for a while now."

"Oh? Ask away then." Lucifer was curious. There was a lot a human could want to ask the Lucifer Morningstar. You already knew his story, but there was a lot to be asked about what the Celestial Realm was like, or what having his power was like. But instead you asked him,

"What's your favorite color?"

The question hit him like a shot to the heart. He should've known you weren't interested in anything but him, for who he was. For once, he didn't know the answer a question as simple as that. He'd never really given it though. Maybe it was red? It was the color of his eyes, and the color of Diavolo. Maybe it was blue? That was the color of his sin. Maybe it was black? Everything he bought seemed to be in that color. Or, just maybe, it was that he didn't have one.

He floundered, his thoughts much more chaotic than what he let on. "Oh, wait! Let me guess!" He nodded, despite not knowing how he'd respond. You pursed your lips, deep in thought, when you burst out with what you thought was the answer.

"Yellow! It's yellow!" You placed a hand on his arm, eagerly awaiting his answer. You looked so full of joy, that somehow, made the answer seem correct to him.

"You're right." Lucifer nodded his head in confirmation.

"Knew it!" You threw your arms around him, pulling him into a side hug. After the inital shock, he hugged you back. "Yellow was already the best color, but now it's even better since it's your favorite too." The rest of your game, and break flew by.

But he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. How could he had been so blind to a color he saw everyday? After that, the color held a special meaning to him. Not only was it the color of his favorite brother, and the color of your favorite thing about the human world, it was also the color of you to him.

Yellow was never the same after that.

The runny yellow yolk of the sunny side up eggs tasted that little bit better. He wasn't upset when he saw a yellow ball of yarn roll out from Satan's room. The yellow umbrella you carried around always caught his eyes, and so did yellow devildom equivalent of roses he passed every day on his way to RAD in a way they hadn't before. He promptly bought them and presented them to you when you arrived after him. The smile you gave him and the way you buried your face in the flowers meant the world to him.

Yellow suited you.

[beelinx]

childhood best friends to lovers w/ denki kaminari

Warnings: None! (I think) Maybe Denki’s a little ooc ? 833 words ! Reader is gender neutral :P

Childhood Friend!Denki who you met in kindergarten. Some kid was trying to steal your lollipop, and Denki, looking all valiant and brave, electrocuted the kid to save you. Of course, he still hadn’t gotten the hang of his quirk, and electrocuted you, too.

Childhood Friend!Denki who felt so so so bad about it. So, when he regained consciousness from the short-circuit he had experienced, invited you over for a playdate at his house.

Childhood Friend!Denki who begs his mom to let you stay for a sleepover, and then proceeds to sob uncontrollably as he watches you leave his house holding your mother’s hand after his plan fails.

Childhood Friend!Denki who never let you play with any of the other kindergarten boys. He grabbed your hand and dragged you away, ensuring you only built those blocks with him.

Childhood Friend!Denki who always partnered up with you in group projects, pouting if the teacher chose the groups and separated you two. Grumbling under his breath as he watched you make a presentation with some other dude.

Childhood Friend!Denki who’d get so jealous when you gave more attention to someone else that he made you swear you two would be best friends forever. You giggled and pinky promised you obviously would be, and he smiled proudly.

Best Friend!Denki who loved how you cared for him after he short-circuits. Sometimes he even did so on purpose just to have you fuss over him.

Best Friend!Denki who is only okay with you beating him at Mario Kart, or any such games.

Best Friend!Denki who spends more time over at your house than at his.

Best Friend!Denki who asked you to your middle school dance, gaining the guts after hearing a guy say he’d been thinking about asking you.

Best Friend!Denki who almost short-circuited after he saw you coming down the stairs to him. He swore he’d never seen anyone more beautiful. Your mothers giggled at the sight of you two, all dressed up and blushing, and took about a hundred pictures.

Best Friend!Denki who realized his feelings for you were more than a crush that very same night. Seeing you laugh at all his stupid jokes made it click for him. He wanted to hear your laugh all his life. He needed to.

Best Friend!Denki who begged you to try out for UA’s hero course, which you reluctantly agreed to do.

Best Friend!Denki who almost didn’t go to UA after he found out you didn’t get into the hero course with him. Of course, you smacked some sense into him. He almost jumped with joy when you told him you were going to the general course, so you’d both still be in the same high school.

Best Friend!Denki who kept you as a secret from all his class 1A friends. He knew how cool they were, he saw how all the girls fawned over them, and he selfishly wanted to keep you all to himself. He didn’t want to risk you falling in love and leaving him for Todoroki.

Best Friend!Denki who almost lost in the first round of the sports festival simply because he got distracted by the fact you were cheering him on.

Best Friend!Denki who was so embarrassed he lost so miserably, and was almost too ashamed to see you afterwards.

Best Friend!Denki who always thought about your safety first, your face never leaving his mind throughout any fight.

Best Friend!Denki who finally gets the guts to ask you out after he saw you walking with Shinso, and Sero chimed in, telling him if he didn’t shoot his shot, someone else would do it for him.

Best Friend!Denki, who you’ve never seen so nervous, hands sweating and fiddling with his shirt, face flushed, and voice cracking, asking you if you’d let him be your boyfriend.

Boyfriend!Denki who’d show you off to anyone that crossed his path. At this point, all his friends know more about you than you know about yourself.

Boyfriend!Denki who’d always go out of his way to try to impress you, which has resulted in many embarrassing moments that his friends are never going to let you.

Boyfriend!Denki who’d try to win all the prizes at the fair for you, but only end up getting you some small pig plushie, who you’ve come to adore.

Boyfriend!Denki who actually regrets winning it now, because you seem to prefer cuddling with Mr Chubbs than you do with him.

Boyfriend!Denki who gets you flowers once a week after being advised by Kirishima. He gets you your favorites, sometimes spicing it up to see how you react to the new flowers.

Boyfriend!Denki who bought a ring on your one month anniversary, and has been saving it for the right time to ask, when he knows you’re ready, too.

Boyfriend!Denki who’s been ready to marry you since the day he first met you.

first tumblr post this is scary chat

tysm for reading!! <3

[matcha-milkies]

LIKE AN OLEANDER

Summary: Bill Cipher needs a footstool and a thoroughly Stockholmed Ford is happy to oblige.

Relationships: Bill Cipher & Ford Pines, Pyronica is there too

Content Warnings: Abuse, Master/Pet, Psychological Torture/Horror/Trauma, Stockholm Syndrome, Victim Blaming, Sensory Deprivation

Tags: Triangle Bill, Canon Divergence - Weirdmageddon, Bill Cipher Wins, Collars, Chains, Whump, Hurt No Comfort, Bill Cipher is a Jerk

Word Count: 1,306

Link to AO3: Here

A/N: Based on @jellyskink’s immaculate Domesticated Ford AU, in which Bill mentally breaks Ford in the 1980s and brainwashes him into an obedient and fawning pet. Weirdmageddon started early, and over time the weirdness bubble surrounding Gravity Falls naturally expanded to contain both California and Oregon. If you want to learn more, there’s a lot more tidbits on their blog, though fair warning it’s a pretty dark and sad AU.

Thank you, jellyskink, for giving me the green light to write a fic for this!

I saw someone say this au is “all pain, no sex” which is really at the heart of what I look for in fics, but is so painstakingly absent in most fandoms, so this is a godsend •⩊•

If you haven’t listened to “Oleander” by Mother Mother what are you even doing with your life /lh

Bill Cipher is in a particularly good mood today. He and Pyronica probably broke a record for largest bonfire in California, even counting all their previous antics over the years. Not the dream demon’s most creative endeavor by a long shot, but hey, sometimes you just gotta start a blazing inferno to let off some steam. Nothing wrong with a bit of simple, straightforward arson now and then.

It’s only when he returns to the Fearamid, practically glowing, buzzing and high off the screams of the innocent, that he remembers the state he left Sixer in.

The man is in a kneeling position, collared by the neck. His hair, fluffy and disheveled, feathers down to around his shoulders, brushing against the cruel blue metal. His twelve fingers twitch and grasp at nothing, futilely, as though groping for purchase on a rugged cliffside. His purple sweater is rumpled in places, like he had pulled and grabbed at that too, to no evident avail. He’s whimpering to himself, words that are at first indiscernible as Bill enters the massive chamber.

The scientist is tethered to a ring near the base of the Throne of Frozen Human Agony, staring vacantly into the middle space, unseeing. It’s not his fault. Bill severed all input from his optic nerves, so he literally can’t see. Or hear. Or feel. Yeah, he cut off those nerves too. It was supposed to be a punishment that lasted a few hours. And then Bill had left and gotten carried away with his fun, and well, it had been an entire day.

Whoops.

Make no mistake, he doesn’t feel bad about it. If anything, it’s kind of funny, like forgetting to feed your dog! Wait. Humans don’t find that funny. Well, who can expect them to understand the emotions of an all-powerful chaos god? He draws closer, and the previously indiscernible words sharpen into clarity.

“I love you, my muse. I love you.”

Repeated ad nauseam to the uncaring void.

“Aww,” Bill clasps his hands together and brings them closer to his eye. “He’s so pathetic!” Pyronica, who came in with him, nods her agreement and laughs along. This must be what it’s like to catch your puppy mid-dream, its little tongue lolling and leg kicking at nothing.

He can’t remember whether he instructed his pet to repeat those words or not. Honestly, it’s anyone’s guess. Bill’s will and Ford’s are so inextricable at this point that Ford often does things without needing to be told. Of course, they’re not entirely on the same wavelength, or else punishment wouldn’t be required in the first place.

“Eh, remind me to snap him out of it in another half an hour,” Bill says, settling himself on the throne. With a wave of an arm he summons a martini glass. “I’m gonna have myself a drink.”

“Sure thing, boss.” He summons a glass for her too, and hipshot, she accepts. “Hey, you think we should’ve put the fire out before we left?”

They both share a hearty chuckle over that. “Would be a shame if it all burned down!” Bill sighs as the laughter dies down. “Nah, but seriously. California will still be there for us to play with tomorrow. And if it isn’t, we can always just rebuild it! In my image! Ha!”

“Yeah. Technically the fires are my image though.”

“Touché!”

They talk for a while, maybe 20 minutes or so in this fashion, casually sipping time punch and discussing unnatural disasters like they’re music festivals. Ford goes completely untouched and unnoticed, until suddenly Bill returns his attention to the human, and a light bulb goes off next to his hat.

“Wait. Do you wanna see something hysterical? I have the best idea.”

Every sensation returns to Ford at once in a flood of color, touch and sound. Sometimes, when Bill is feeling merciful, he eases him back into it, but his merciful moods are few and far between. More commonly, he likes to toss the scientist in the deep end and watch him flounder, tears quickly beading at the corners of Ford’s eyes and spilling fatly over his cheeks. His body convulses in a singular, broken sob, and before he can finish another apologetic, “I love you,” Bill hits him with a hard command.

“Stanford! I need a footstool!” The demon extends his legs and wiggles his feet a little. He whistles as though beckoning a dog. “Come ‘ere!”

Despite his disorientation, Ford rushes to obey, lurching in the direction of Bill’s voice and falling flat on his face. Shakenly, he picks himself off the ground, letting loose a singular groan.

“I’m still waiting!” Bill sings, swinging his legs a little for effect. Pyronica snickers. Ford tries again, following the sound of his muse’s voice, although he is quickly dismayed to find that he’s already reached the end of his chain. He falls just short of Bill’s feet, and no matter how he chokes himself, no matter how hard he tugs at the collar or the chain attached, he can’t go any further than this. His distress is evident in the way he keens.

“What are you doing?” Bill demands, rolling his eye. “All I asked for was a simple footstool and you can’t even do that? Bad! Bad dog!” Ford sobs.

“I-I’m sorry, my muse!” he rasps, the cold metal of the collar pressing in on his windpipe as he strains to obey. “I’m so sorry!”

Pyronica is practically in stitches at this point, and Bill is a showman, a class clown ever chasing the next laugh. “Are you really though?” His eye wanes to an amused crescent. “Do you even love me, if you can’t even follow a command as simple as this?”

“Yes!” Ford insists with a cry. “Yes, my muse, I love you! I’m sorry that I’m so useless… Please, please forgive me…”

“Why should I? Do you think you deserve forgiveness?”

“N- No,” Ford sniffs, “but—”

“Alright, alright. Since I’m in such a good mood, I’ll give you a hand.” Bill waves his hand in a circle and the chain elongates, allowing just enough slack for Ford to crawl under his waiting feet. Bill settles them heavily on top of Ford’s back and sighs. “Ahh, that’s better.” The man shakes under the weight.

“Thank you, my muse,” he says. Normally, he would be a lot happier about serving Bill like this, but he’s clearly still torn up over his recent punishment and failures. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it, kid!” Bill rests his hands behind his ‘head,’ or rather, the tip of his topmost vertex. “Maybe after this, if you’re good, you can have a treat.”

“R- Really? Oh, thank you so much, my muse. I promise I’ll be good.” His voice is still wavery from the earlier-shed tears, but his cheer seems to be returning. It’s not difficult to keep the man happy when he’s so thoroughly and hopelessly smitten with his muse. Bill could have Pyronica drop-kick Ford off the top of the Fearamid right now and when he reached the bottom he would find a way to smile and thank Bill, no matter how many broken pieces he was in.

“Yeah. Now shut up while I get some reading in. Hasn’t anyone ever told you footstools don’t talk? Sheesh.” With a sigh, Bill summons an extradimensional magazine and floats it in front of his eye, every so often flipping through the pages. Pyronica says she’s off to see what Teeth and Keyhole are up to, and Bill acknowledges her departure with a little grunt and wave. Ford stifles a whimper. His back has already been giving him issues lately, and this definitely isn’t helping matters, but he soldiers through it for his muse. He’s determined not to mess up again. He’s determined to be a good footstool.

A/N: This is my first time writing from Bill’s perspective! I don’t usually write him this cruel, so it was a fun change of pace to lean full force into that side of him. Thanks again, jellyskink, I hope you liked this little installment!

[thebibliophilevigilante]

When Madison’s face lit up, even Jason couldn’t suppress a smile. Taking her hand in his, he offered a small squeeze. “You should feel that way, because you are pretty. You’re downright gorgeous. Surely you know this?”

His brow furrowed then as he listened to her explain the kind of games she was interested in. Most of the games that she said she was decent at were physical, and much more in his wheelhouse. He had been expecting her to say the horse racing one where you roll the balls up the track board and into a hole, or the ones where you shoot water into a clown’s mouth. Like he had said before, she gave him a run for his money, and if she was as decent as she claimed to be with those kinds of games? He was going to be screwed. Head over heels, hopelessly in love, screwed.

“Fuckboys, I tell you what,” he chuckled, arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer to him as they approached the spinning ride. “I warn you, pretty girl, I am an amazing shot...and I’m not a bitchy little boy either. If you happen to outshoot me, well...I’ll just have to take your breath away in a prideful kiss as a reward.”

Teal eyes peeled away from he to look at the spinning platform, which was gradually slowing to a stop. Two young kids had been caught in the middle, trying to be little daredevils, but were slip-sliding around. The way the ride bounced made Jason’s stomach lurch slightly, but he’d been through worse. If he can swing from rooftop to rooftop every damn night, he could handle this little ride.

Madison was giving him some tips and tricks, causing him to chuckle. The thought of her on the back of a mechanical bull as it bucked was quite the mental picture: leather chaps, a bikini top, her long wavy hair cascading down her back bouncing as she held on for dear life with those fantastic hips-

The loss of Madison’s pinkie and the tug of her hand to his, dragging him onto the ride, broke him from his daydream.

He huffed to himself as he entered the ride. He had to stop allowing himself to get distracted like that.

“Mechanical bulls. I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Oh, he was definitely keeping it in mind, all right. Especially when he was back in his apartment by himself. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “Despite being Yankees and city-slickers up here, there is actually a pretty nice country bar here in Gotham. Maybe I’ll take you sometime...and you can show me your...bull-riding skills.”

As soon as they were seated, his arms hooked under the lowest rail, his left bracing himself, his right bracketing behind her, trying to give a little extra padding behind her head so she didn’t bounce it against the metal bars. He monitored as more people climbed aboard, the attendant obviously counting each head. Once the attendant was satisfied, he nodded to himself and closed the gate. Jason’s stomach lurched again before he nodded. “Let’s do it.”

When it comes to getting intel, there are several ways to go about it. One could ask politely, or ask the right questions to eventually draw information from their target. There is intimidation, threatening your target and demanding the information in exchange for remaining unharmed. Then there is incognito surveillance, appearing inconspicuous and melding in with one’s environment just listening and watching.

The current session was the latter.

A raven-haired man with a blanched tuft in his bangs kept his teal eyes trained on the book in his massive, calloused right hand. His left swirled his take-away cup absentmindedly. He was reading words, but they weren’t registering in his brain. His focus was more concentrated on the conversations around him, and what information he could gather before his next patrol.

The first three rules of real estate are location, location, location. Burnley Brewhouse definitely had that, especially for Jason Todd. It was conveniently placed right on the very edge of Burnley, practically at the juncture of where Crime Alley and The Bowery neighborhoods started (which were all Jason’s domain). By day, the neighborhood was full of regular citizens, students and tourists. By night, the whole area was crawling with denizens of the dark wheeling and dealing for their own personal gain and vices while putting others at risk.

Jason brought his cup to his mouth for a sip, his eyes flicking to the counter where two men with heavier builds were waiting for their order. One had a rough 5 o’clock shadow, the other a scraggly, unkempt blond beard, both wearing holy jeans and beat-up leather jackets. He recalled seeing them once during a patrol a couple of weeks prior, skulking around by the Freight Yards. They were definitely up to no good then, and could offer him decent information in the present. The barista handed both of them a take-away cup, and his eyes quickly glanced down to his book again, his peripherals watching as they meandered around to sit at a table caddy-corner from his in the back corner of the shop.

“Terry was telling me about that new candy order he has coming in,” 5 O’Clock muttered lowly to his friend. “Said it should get here overnight, and we can distribute to the stores first thing in the morning.”

Scraggles ran his nails over his beard as he listened. “Loaded with sugar? Y’know these kids can’t get enough of their sugar.”

“He said it was everything needed from the inventory list. He said he has his pal Molly coming in to help with the shipment too.”

There was a small pause before, “How many donuts did he get and where from?”

“11 for the crew. I think he said they’re from Declan’s over on 14th Street.”

Jason had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Those two idiots were blatantly discussing a drug drop in broad daylight just as if they were talking about a regular candy store shipment.

He switched the book to his right hand as he snagged a napkin from the holder and a pen from the table. He scribbled a note to himself, writing the characters’ names from his book, followed by “PG 11, DL 14.” He knew his own shorthand; the character names were to keep up appearances. “PG 11” would remind him the drop was scheduled for 11, and “DL 14” would remind him the ship would be at Dock Bay 14.

His attention went back to his book as he brought the pen to his lips, teeth nibbling on the retractable plunge as he appeared deep in thought. He was about to tune back into 5 O’Clock and Scraggly’s conversation when the cafe’s entry bell rung.

His eyes flitted to the door to assess the entrant, and he froze. A young brunette with piercing dark eyes was glancing around, looking for a place to perch herself no doubt. She was breathtaking, and certainly unlike any other person he had seen come in to Burnley’s. As she turned to the counter, he couldn’t help the large grin that danced over his face. First he got lucky with the tip-off. Would he be lucky enough for that gorgeous girl to sit anywhere within his vicinity?

@rpwiththelilflower

[cas-readsandwrites]

Lavender: Interludes

Set in Jackson post TLOU S1 in the Lavender universe by @justagalwhowrites, a few little scenes of Joel, Doc, and the fam in Jackson. Listen I am not pregnant, I have no desire to be pregnant, so I don't know WHERE this came from, but I love soft Joel healing from his trauma and finding love and joy in his family! Content: Reader is described as pregnant. There is smut. And fluff. And love. Grab some ice cream and your heating pads if you're in the same time of the month as me. Minors DNI. 3.6k words

I am not quiet about the fact that Lavender is one of my favorite fanfics, in my two decades popping in and out of various fandoms. Doc and Joel are my distraction and angst and comfort when I need it. Sometimes my imagination runs a little wild.... many many thanks to Kit for creating these characters and being totally cool with the fact that I wrote a little fanfic of her fanfic :D So here we go!

~~~

Joel had walked into the house late one evening, after patrol had gone long and he had to wait to give report to the next crew going out. He was extra antsy and wanted to get home, now more than ever. This was his last patrol for the next several months, as he would not need to leave the walls of the town during the last month of your pregnancy and hopefully not for a month or two afterwards. He would be put on extra shifts on guard duty or with the carpenter crew, but as long as he was within a quick run down the street or an ear-shot of someone yelling for him with news of you, he was fine with that. 

Anyway, when he had come home, you had been standing in the middle of the living room, seemingly all the sheets and blankets from the house around you and stacked in a laundry basket at the bottom of the stairs. All of the glasses and mugs were sitting out drying on the counter, as well as the few baby bottles you had brought home from the clinic (just in case you had said, hopeful that you would be able to breastfeed). All of the lights were still on upstairs. 

“Baby,” he said, matter-of-factly, “what the hell are you doin’?”

You spun around, holding a fitted sheet in your hands, fresh from the laundry line outside. The town was encouraged to use the communal laundry whenever possible, to limit wear and tear on the machines in the houses, but understandably many families had middle-of-the-night unexpected messes or heavy loads that they would do at home if the mechanicals still worked. The dryer in their house was still inconsistent, as much as Joel took it apart and banged on it and put it back together, it gave them a few good spins before shuddering to a halt again. Thankfully Tommy and Maria’s across the street was still functional, adding to the growing list of ways that he felt like he was in… well, a commune, with his brother as their lives and households continually overlapped, something he suspected would only increase after the baby was born.

“I think I’m nesting,” you answered back, looking around at the piles of fabric and wiggling your fingers in the sheets. “It seemed like a good idea to have all the linens clean, and then I was hand-washing some things in the kitchen, so it seemed like a good idea to clean off some of the dishes and things we haven’t really used, they were kind of dusty and I didn’t want it getting in the bottles…” you trailed off and sighed. “Ok, it looks ridiculous, but trust me, it needed to be done!” 

Joel wasn’t about to fight you on that, as much as he worried about your health and safety in what he viewed as an extra-fragile state, it seemed like you had come even more alive with an extra vivacity throughout your pregnancy. Even when you were throwing up, or cranky with hormones, you were even more feisty. Which was saying something, considering all the times you had verbally sparred back in Boston, along the road to Jackson, even back when you were taking care of yourself and your grandmother all alone. “Ok, well… can I help you?” he asked. “Seems like you got it in hand, but please don’t tell me you’ve been carrying laundry around all day.” 

You waved your hands again, corners of the sheet scrunching around your fingers. “Ellie put up with me for a while and did the heavy lifting with the wet things. She wanted to go out for the evening, though, so it’s just been me and the folded piles tonight.” You looked around as you tucked the corners across and into each other, neatly snapping the sheet and folding the edges in. “I guess if you can take these all back up into the closet upstairs, then it will be mostly done.” 

You looked around at the folded pile in the basket, mentally cataloguing your task, before seeming to snap out of it and look back at him. “But you just got home! I’m so sorry, blame my brain for being wired towards this.” You waded through the piles and threw yourself into his arms, even with your stomach grown with his baby, still fitting in just right where he could wrap around your shoulders and your back and you could lean into that space against his chest. Joel ran his hand up and down your back, around your side, warm palm against the place where your child grew. You hummed as he kissed the top of your head, centering himself as he always did when coming home on your scent and the warm gravity of you in his arms. 

“Why don’t you go up to bed?” he murmured against your temple. “I’ll get the rest of this. You’ve been on your feet a lot. Please go lay down? I’d love to just… be with you tonight.” You nodded, tipping your head back to kiss him. He anchored himself to you, the press of your lips against his. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” you said, squeezing him again before stepping away and looking around at the living room before walking upstairs.

They had been in this house for several months, well-established in Jackson, but he couldn’t shake the nighttime routines yet, circling the first floor of the house, checking that the exits were clear, locked, lights off, locking his rifle in the downstairs closet, keeping his sidearm in the nightstand next to his side of the bed. He heard you moving around the bathroom and treading the hallway into the bedroom. Thankfully, Ellie came home not too soon after as he was finished folding. She shrugged and tilted her head with an eyebrow raised in a nonverbal I don’t know, man, it wasn’t my idea. He handed her the basket and wordlessly gestured up the stairs. She just as silently tilted her forehead against his arm as she passed in a greeting and good-night, and they trooped up the stairs together. “Good night, Ellie!” he heard you call across the hall.

He showered, washing off the road and sweat, before climbing in bed behind you, already nested in your structure of pillows. “Mmmf,” you murmured, nestling back into his chest. He traced the line of the back of your neck with one hand and looped his arm around your front, resting on your stomach. You traced the back of his hand with your fingers in the dark. It didn’t seem to take much, even at this stage in your pregnancy, and soon you were bringing his hand below the slope of your stomach to that place between your legs that seemed so much more sensitive nowadays. 

“Baby,” he murmured in your ear, “you gonna be ok? Don’t want to hurt you…”

You moaned quietly as his fingertips traced your clit, leading down to your center, tracing your entrance and just dipping inside. You gasped and tilted your hips, moving your leg to open that space for him. “Please, Joel,” you breathed, trying to be quiet, mindful of Ellie down the hall. “I trust you, I know you won’t hurt me, I want to feel you, please…”

He kissed the space below your ear, the scratch of his beard tickling the back of your shoulder. “Don’t gotta beg for me, sweetheart, always gonna give you what you need.”

Urged by your own hand, he felt the wetness from your entrance already, dipping his fingers in to coat them, coming back to your clit, warm and aching. It didn’t take long for the pressure from his fingers, alternating between circling and lightly pressing on your sensitive areas, before he felt you throbbing, heard your tiny gasps as you tugged on the corner of your pillow, thrusting your hips back into his as he brought you to your edge. Even after months of your reassurance that you knew he wouldn’t hurt you, had never done so, and you still obviously wanted him, he waited for your cues. He tried to ignore his hardening cock, but your thrust backwards had nestled him into the soft flesh of your ass, so warm and delightfully more from pregnancy, and he couldn't help as he rocked against you. Even as you came down, you pushed his hand back towards your center, hitching your top leg up to rest on his, reaching behind for his hip, holding him close.

He ran his hand down your leg, gripping your thigh against him as he moved to push himself against you, the heat and wetness from your center drawing him in. He lined the tip of him with your center, your body grasping to pull him in, as if promises over decades and the proof of your love growing inside you weren’t enough. He stopped only long enough to ask, “this ok, baby? You feel alright?” 

You whimpered, tilting your head back towards him, and he ran his nose along what he could reach of your jaw, kissing the side of your neck, breathing against the edge of your ear. “Feels so good, please, don’t stop,” you whispered, rocking just so the tip of him slid in. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of you around him, pressed against him, as he slid inside you from behind. You bit your lip to stop from crying out, rocking back into him with abandon. He had to focus to stop from coming immediately - how could he not, the softness of the most round, plush parts of you pressed against his body and in his hands, your warmth even more enveloping. He focused instead on the lines of your body, kissing your shoulder, gripping your hip as he thrust in and out, syncing with the rocking of your hips. His hand slipped around your front to the top of your legs again, circling and rubbing against your clit. You were so lost in your pleasure, grasping at the blanket in front of you, and he wanted this to last as long as you needed. Unable to see your face or kiss you, giving himself into your body wherever you would take him, he used his words instead, punctuated by his own groans and pleasure. Words of praise and promise, your beauty, the sensation of your body, goddess that you were, holding both himself and your child together deep inside yourself. 

-finally, “oh, fuck, there you go baby, I can feel you, so ready, come on-” and you turned your face down into your pillow, breathing heavily, as your body fairly shook with your orgasm, clenching and rippling around him, and he held on tight and rode it out with you, thrusting up once, twice, one more time until he felt himself come apart deeply and at home in your body. 

The two of you lay together in the tangle of blankets and blankets, now kicked down around your legs and askew around you, his chest heaving with deep breaths against yours. He felt you melt into the mattress. After a moment he checked himself, not wanting you to need to move, and cautiously lifted an arm to brace himself against the mattress. You made a little noise and tilted your head back against him again. He reach in front of you and sat partway up, leaning over you to kiss you at an angle, reassuring you, and himself that you were still alright, that he hadn’t hurt you or pushed you too much in some way that he would have no way of knowing about, his memories of the only other pregnant woman in his life so far distant and embroiled in its own tinge of sadness and self-doubt that none of it was to be trusted. Only you, here, your daughter for all intents and purposes down the hall, the solidity of this house, was what he could count on. 

He kissed you again and nuzzled against your forehead. “Lay down, baby, I got you. Need anything?” he felt you shake your head and settled against your pillow. He smiled. You often had a hard time falling asleep and staying asleep as you advanced in your pregnancy, but something about the release of sex would turn you into goo and put you to sleep afterwards almost right away. 

He carefully sat all the way up, leaning over you to reset your pillows where you liked them, against the pressure of your knees, hips and belly supported against the mattress, under your arm, one against the small of your back. When you were tucked in and covered, he quietly stepped down the hall to fill your glass of water and set it down next to you, checking again the lights outside and the door to Ellie’s room, before sliding carefully back in behind you. Not able to get as close through your fortress of pillows, he rested an arm along your hip, breathing in the scent of your hair that always seemed to end up draped across his pillow.

He heard you sigh and shuffle, and was about to ask what else you needed, before you spoke quietly, through the cloud of sleep he knew was almost ready to carry you off. “I love you,” you murmured into the soft darkness of the bedroom. He leaned his head forward, resting his forehead on the space between your shoulderblades, just behind your heart. “Love you so much, baby,” he whispered, squeezing your hip, before sleep claimed you both. 

~~~

Joel and Tommy watched as you and Maria talked in the living room of Tommy and Maria’s house after dinner, while they stood in the doorway of the kitchen drinking whiskey, judiciously keeping the scent of alcohol away from your pregnant self and Maria’s breastfeeding. Well, Tommy was watching Joel as Joel watched you shuffle on the couch, gently positioning yourself to rest your lower back. “She doin’ ok?” Tommy asked, trying to catch Joel’s eye. 

Joel glanced over at his brother like he was unaware they were even in a conversation together. “Oh- yeah. She said her legs and back are starting to get real tired. Tried telling her to rest more, but you know her, says moving is actually better and she doesn’t want to leave the clinic yet.”

Tommy nodded, knowing this brand of his sister-in-law’s stubbornness and resilient streak. “You ever try doin’ the thing where you stand behind her and lift up her stomach?”

Now Joel was really looking at his brother. “What?” he asked. They didn’t really… talk girls. Joel did his best when Tommy was growing up to have The Talk (that went pretty well, living embodiment of the consequences of Joel’s actions usually screaming in her high chair in the background of those conversations when Tommy would be headed out the door to pick up yet another date) as well as trying to make sure his brother was generally a respectful and polite person to a partner, but other than that, they didn’t really talk about the ins and outs of each other’s relationships. Until you. Even way back when, yours and Joel’s relationship had been more real, more recognized, tangible, than most other things in his life.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, “you know, like you’re gonna hug her from behind or somethin?” He demonstrated in the air in front of him. “Get your arms around her and under her stomach, towards the bottom, where Maria always said was the most sore because it was heavy, stretching out some muscles, and just-” he linked his fingers together, glass carefully balanced in one bear-paw of a hand- “hup.” He demonstrated gently lifting a beach ball in front of him.

Joel watched his brother looking like he was trying to hula hoop in the middle of his kitchen. “Sure it doesn’t hurt her?” Tommy laughed and patted his brother on his arm. “Be gentle, man. Naw, Maria loved it. Would have walked around behind her for the whole last month for her if I could’ve.” Joel nodded, regretting already the time he missed in his brother’s life, refusing to accept his new marriage to Maria, blocking out the thoughts of his brother becoming a father, when all his brother had done for him was to step into Joel’s own life and take on Joel’s burdens as his own. By the time Joel and his girls had made it back to Jackson, several months had passed and Maria had already given birth. 

Tommy patted his arm again. “She knows you’d do anything for her. Maria and I will, too. Need a babysitter or an extra hand when it’s time, just holler.” He gestured with his glass towards their window that overlooked the street, across which your home with Joel was softly illuminated by the front door light, waiting for you to come home. You caught Tommy’s movement out of the corner of your eye, looking up and smiling at your husband and your brother-in-law together again, as they should be.

The next day, you were walking slowly around the house while getting ready for a shift at the clinic. You were still the only doctor in town, though they had gained a few additional staff that, while not quite trained as well as you’d hoped nurses would be, were improving as medical assistants and able to triage and take histories and help with physical exams. One of the more senior nurses who had been in town for a while had taken on the heavier medical work before you had arrived. She had taken to your education and you had recently “graduated” her from your unofficial training and dubbed her a nurse practitioner, only needing to sign off with you on certain types of cases. The extra help meant that at least you could sit more and slow your pace to see a few less patients, but for now you said your brain and your energy were fine, and you weren’t going to let a few bodyaches get in the way of being present for the people who needed the knowledge that only you had. 

Joel watched as you stood in front of your dresser, choosing which top to go over your precious few pairs of pants they had found to be modified with a maternity band. You sighed and rested your hands on the small of your back, leaning just so, trying to stretch - well, everything. 

Joel begrudgingly remembered his brother’s words, knowing he was going to be eating shit for a while, Tommy being more of an expert in the “pregnancy and infancy caregiver in the apocalypse” duties. Joel still had him beat in the teenager department at least. For now, though, he walked up behind you to kiss your temple, slipping his arms around you as he often did to trace the contours of your body, holding your hips or placing a palm to feel the baby.

“Wish you would call it at the clinic, baby, I really do,” he murmured. 

“I know,” you sighed, “not yet, though. My mind feels fine. I’m taking it as easy as I can there, I promise, and you know I’m in the right place if I need anything.” You looked down at his hands gently circling your stomach. “I know by now it’s useless to ask you to not worry, but please, take it easy on yourself, too,” you said, placing your hand on his.

Joel wanted to bury his face in your hair, carry you to bed, hold on to you and rub your feet and bring you tea for the next four weeks. He didn’t deserve you, mindful as you were towards his worries and the health of the entire town. “You’re askin’ for the impossible, babe, you know that.” 

You laughed lightly. “I know. I can try. At least I didn’t leverage doctor’s orders this time.” You tilted your head back, resting on his chest. “I’ll take a few more days, keep making some plans with the staff, and see how I feel later this week. ‘kay?”

“ ‘kay,” he echoed. You moved to step forward and reach for a dresser drawer again, but Joel followed and gently tugged you back against him. You opened your mouth to softly protest - you did need to get moving, after all - but Joel slid his hands firmly under your stomach, warm and sturdy, and without even realizing what was happening, you felt the pressure in his hands increase and a blessed lightness spread across the top of your hips and your pelvic muscles. 

Joel leaned back just slightly, the weight of your belly in his hands, and he heard you make a noise he had never even heard you make in bed. “Oh God,” you groaned, drawing it out in a soft sigh. “I didn't even realize how much that- please don't move, I just want to stay-” you let your arms drop, thoughts of a shirt vanishing as you let yourself be cradled in this temporary, bodily gravity defying relief. 

Joel wanted to chuckle at your words, but the deep instinct to simultaneously protect you while bringing you so close, around him, be inside you, kicked up again. He could only rest his forehead on the crown of your head, remind himself that you were here and whole and healthy, and marvel at your innate strength and abundant spirit to allow your body to be changed for him and for your family. He would always strive to be worthy of you, he knew that now. For now, that meant standing quietly in your home together, swaying gently, holding you and your child, your whole universe in his hands.

[fatale-distraction]

We Are Family - An EmmRook one-shot

Rating: General

Pairing: Abigail Ingellvar (Elven Mourn Watch Rook) x Emmrich Volkarin

Tags: Fluff, domestic fluff, slice of life, humor

SPOILERS for Emmrich’s personal quests!

Summary: Just a cute little one-shot. Abigail is teaching Manfred a very special word to surprise Emmrich. Spoilers for Emmrich’s character arc.

For more on Abigail and Emmy’s relationship, check out the other works in this series, and Abigail’s profile!

Full one-shot under the cut. Please consider checking it out on Ao3 as well!

"Okay, Manfred," Abigail said patiently, holding up an old learning primer. "Let's try this again. 'Papa.'"

The skeleton hissed and dropped his jaw in what Rook had come to learn was his version of a smile. Abigail sighed.

"Papa," she insisted, lowering the book. "Come on, Manfred, at least give me a 'puh' sound. Emmrich will be so delighted to hear you call him papa!"

"Magic!"

"Magic practice later, Manfred! Right now, I need you to say 'papa.'"

Manfred gave a disappointed hiss and clacked his teeth.

"The stupid creature isn't going to call him 'papa,'" a snide, irritated voice called from across the room. "As if Volkarin weren't ridiculous enough with that construct, now you'll have it chasing him around like a duckling calling him Father."

"Shut up, Hezenkoss," Abigail muttered at the glowing skull. "Or I'll put the cloth over you again. You can go night-night like a cute little canary."

"I am NOT a cute little canary!" Johanna screeched, the skull clattering slightly on its pedestal. Abigail rolled her eyes and mouthed mockingly along with her while Manfred clapped his hands over a garbled giggle. "I am a scientist!"

"Yes, yes…"

"Disrespectful whelp!"

"If you don't have anything useful to say, then kindly shut your yap," Abigail requested with a prim sniff. She straightened her floppy bowtie and turned her attention back to Manfred. "Once again, sweetling. 'Papa.'"

"Lunch!"

"Manfred!"

Johanna groaned long, loud, and resonating. "Construct!" she shrieked. "Say 'Papa' or I will self-immolate and take this entire room and everything and everyone in it down with me!"

"Bad!”

"Very good, Manfred." Abigail gave him an encouraging pat.

At this moment, Emmrich bustled through the door, arms laden with books and sheaves of parchment, cheerfully murmuring to himself about Fade resonance and magical feedback loops. Abigail took advantage of his distraction to hurl the learning primer across the room and out of sight. She held a finger to her lips and Manfred covered his mouth with both hands.

"Ah! Abigail!" Emmrich smiled when he noticed them sitting at the table. "And Manfred, what are we learning today?"

"Lunch!"

"Stupendous!"

Abigail sighed again, fondly this time, as her partner unloaded his burden on top of his desk. Manfred skittered to his side to assist.

"I'm glad you're here, my dearest," Emmrich said, sorting through pages of neat, faded scrawl and precise geometric diagrams. He turned, leaning against his desk with one ankle crossed over the other and smiled at her. "Manfred and I have been working on a little surprise for you. Manfred?"

Jeweled eyes rotated one way and then the other. Manfred turned back to Abigail, crossed the room and threw his bony arms around her middle, resting his head on her bosom.

"Mummy!" he hissed happily.

Abigail's jaw fell open, eyebrows bent upward. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and she gave a wet, joyful laugh, hugging him back. "Oh, Manfred…" she murmured, resting her cheek on top of his smooth skull.

Emmrich watched them with damp, smiling eyes. Johanna retched in the corner and was ignored.

"We've been practicing a surprise for you, too," admitted Abigail, brushing a finger under her eyes. "Go on, Manfred, give it a try."

The skeleton gave another joyful hiss and took Rook's hand, towing her behind him across the room, where he took Emmrich's hand. The Mortalitasi looked down at him in expectant amusement. Abigail tucked herself against his side, Emmrich's arm circling her waist by reflex. Manfred squeezed their hands in his.

"Papa!" He garbled. "Mummy and Papa!"

Emmrich laughed with delight and surprise, pulling his skeletal son into a hug with his partner. Abigail kissed both their cheeks.

"Excellent job, Manfred!" She said, exultant and proud. "Very good."

"BLECH!" Shrieked Johanna.

[badger-tales]

Stolen Glances// F.W x Reader

a/n: Guys my requests are still open, who and what i write is pinned on my account!

request:

I’ve been reading your fics for awhile now and I’ve finally worked up the courage to request a fic. (Anonymously, of course)

Can you please do a fic of reader x Fred Weasley where reader has liked Fred for awhile but he never noticed. But then, after a quidditch match or smth, Reader heads back to the common room real sulky (because she saw Fred and Angelina and came to the wrong conclusion) when Fred comes and walks her to the common room. They don’t have to confess their feeling or anything if you don’t want to, but I just want a nice, wholesome, fluff fic. Thank you!

word count: 6K

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. The Gryffindor team was in the middle of an intense practice session, their scarlet robes fluttering behind them like the tails of streaking comets. The air was filled with the sounds of beating wings, shouted instructions, and the occasional thud of Bludgers hitting the bats of Beaters.

You sat perched on one of the higher rows in the Gryffindor stands, surrounded by a mix of excited students. The air was crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of damp grass and the thrill of competition. Your friends were chatting animatedly beside you, their eyes flitting from one player to another, but your gaze was locked on one figure alone.

Fred Weasley.

There he was, flying circles around the rest of the team with that familiar, confident ease that made your heart pound in your chest. His messy red hair caught the sunlight, and every now and then, that infectious grin of his would flash across his face, making him seem even more brilliant. It was like he belonged up there in the sky, as if the broom was just an extension of him, a natural part of who he was.

You sighed, resting your chin on your palm, trying (and failing) to tear your eyes away from him.  

"Why does he have to be so annoyingly perfect?" you thought to yourself, a touch of bitterness seeping into your internal monologue. "I bet he doesn’t even know I exist."

The practice continued, with Fred and George working seamlessly as a Beater duo, sending Bludgers flying toward their teammates who were practicing dodges. Each time Fred whacked a Bludger, his muscles tensed, and you couldn’t help but admire the strength and grace behind each swing.

But it was more than just his skill on the field that had you so utterly captivated. It was the way he seemed to light up a room—or in this case, an entire Quidditch pitch—effortlessly drawing people in with his charm, his laughter, his natural charisma. And yet, it was that very charm that made him feel so... out of reach. 

"He’s probably got girls lining up just to talk to him," you mused bitterly, shaking your head. "Why would he ever notice someone like me?"

As if on cue, Fred suddenly pulled up on his broom, hovering in place for a moment. His gaze drifted toward the stands, squinting slightly as if trying to spot someone in the crowd. Your heart leapt into your throat. Was he looking... at you?

Time seemed to slow down as he raised his hand and waved. For a fleeting, heart-stopping moment, you could have sworn his eyes locked with yours. The blood rushed to your cheeks, and you could feel your heart thudding against your ribcage like it was trying to break free.

"Could he really be waving at me?" you wondered, hope blooming in your chest. You even managed a tentative wave back, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat.

But then, reality crashed down like a Bludger to the gut.

Fred's grin widened as a group of younger Gryffindor students a few rows below you erupted into cheers, waving back enthusiastically. He shot them a playful salute, his eyes crinkling with laughter.

Your arm froze mid-wave, a hot flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You quickly lowered your hand, trying to pretend you were just brushing a stray hair out of your face. 

"Of course, it wasn’t for me," you muttered under your breath, a bitter smile twisting your lips. You could feel your friends exchanging glances beside you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at them. Instead, you focused intently on the pitch, willing the sting of rejection to fade.

Fred turned back to his teammates, seemingly unaware of the little scene that had played out in the stands. He was back to his easygoing self, joking with George as they lined up for another round of Bludger practice. 

And you? You were left sitting there, trying to force your heart to stop racing, trying to swallow down the disappointment that tasted far too familiar. Because that was the thing about having a crush on someone like Fred Weasley—it was always just out of reach, like trying to catch a Snitch with your bare hands.

But despite the sting, you couldn’t stop your eyes from drifting back to him, couldn’t stop that tiny flicker of hope from lighting up inside you every time he came close. Because maybe, just maybe... one day, he'd notice you.

But for now, you stayed in your seat, surrounded by laughter and cheers, with only the warmth of the afternoon sun to keep you company.

The late afternoon sun was beginning to set behind the castle, bathing the Hogwarts grounds in a soft, golden glow. The sky above was a mix of pinks and oranges, the colors reflecting off the shimmering lake in the distance. Quidditch practice had ended, and now, players were trickling out of the changing rooms, their laughter and banter filling the cooling air as they made their way back toward the castle.

You lingered just outside, leaning against the cool stone wall, pretending to be busy adjusting the strap of your bag. In reality, your fingers were fidgeting aimlessly, your mind barely registering your friend's conversation with one of the reserve players beside you. The words were just noise—a distant hum as you scanned the players leaving the pitch.

Your heart was racing, but you kept your expression carefully neutral. You were waiting. Waiting for a glimpse of him. You told yourself you were just delaying your walk back to the castle, but deep down, you knew the truth: you were hoping to see Fred Weasley one last time before the evening was over. Maybe today, after catching his eye during practice, he’d notice you. Maybe he’d smile, say something, anything...

"Pathetic," you thought, scolding yourself, but you couldn't help it. That flutter of hope was there, persistent and stubborn.

Just as you were about to give up and turn away, the door to the changing rooms swung open. Your breath hitched as Fred stepped out, his red hair damp and tousled, droplets of water still clinging to his neck. His practice robes were slung casually over one shoulder, revealing the snug, sweat-stained shirt beneath that clung to his broad shoulders. 

Your heart did a little flip, and you stood a bit straighter, your pulse quickening. He looked so effortlessly perfect, his grin bright as ever. For a moment, you felt a spark of courage, the fleeting thought that maybe, just maybe, you could muster the nerve to wave or even call out to him.

But before you could act, someone else beat you to it.

Angelina Johnson appeared beside him, striding out of the changing rooms with that confident, easy grace that seemed to come so naturally to her. She was still in her Quidditch gear, her dark braids pulled back, and there was a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. The two of them shared a laugh, the kind of laugh that made it seem like they were the only ones in the world. 

You felt your chest tighten, your heart sinking like a stone as you watched Fred drape an arm over Angelina’s shoulders. It was such a casual gesture, the kind he did with all his

close friends, but the way she leaned into him... the easy familiarity between them... it made your stomach twist painfully.

"You’ve always been my favorite Beater partner, Angie," Fred said, his voice carrying easily over the noise of the other players. His tone was light, teasing, and it sent a ripple of laughter through Angelina.

The world around you seemed to blur, the laughter and chatter of your fellow students fading into a dull hum. All you could hear were Fred’s words, replaying over and over like a cruel echo. The scene in front of you—Fred’s arm around Angelina, the way he looked at her—felt like a punch to the gut.

"Why her?" you thought bitterly, feeling a sharp pang of envy. Angelina was everything you weren’t—confident, beautiful, athletic. She fit effortlessly into Fred’s world, while you... you were just a spectator on the sidelines, always watching but never truly part of it.

A sharp sting pricked the back of your eyes, and you blinked furiously, refusing to let the tears fall.  

"Get a grip," you muttered to yourself under your breath. "It’s not like he ever noticed you, anyway." You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it felt like it was stuck there, making it hard to breathe.

You took a deep, shaky breath and tore your gaze away from them, your vision blurring with unshed tears. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to see you like this—especially Fred. 

"How could I have been so stupid?" you berated yourself silently as you turned on your heel. You began walking quickly, your footsteps heavy and hurried as if you could somehow outrun the hurt clawing at your chest.  

"Of course he’d go for someone like her. How could I ever compare?"

As you weaved through the students still lingering near the pitch, the world around you became a blur. All you could see was that image of Fred’s arm around Angelina, his bright, carefree smile, the way she leaned into him without hesitation. It was like a scene burned into your mind, tormenting you with each step.

"You idiot," you thought harshly, clutching the strap of your bag so tightly that your knuckles turned white. "Did you really think you ever had a chance? He’s always been out of your league." 

The laughter from the Quidditch players echoed behind you, and it only made the ache in your chest worse. You ducked your head as you passed a group of Hufflepuffs, hoping they wouldn’t notice the tell-tale shine in your eyes. The castle loomed ahead, its familiar silhouette now feeling more like a cage, every corridor and stairway a reminder of how foolish you’d been to ever think Fred Weasley could see you as more than just another face in the crowd.

By the time you reached the main staircase, you were practically running, desperate to reach the sanctuary of the Gryffindor common room where you could hide away from the world. Your breaths came in shallow gasps, your throat tight with the effort to hold back tears.

"I was just a fool," you thought, a single tear finally slipping down your cheek as you turned the corner. "He never noticed me. He never will."

You wiped it away angrily, quickening your pace. Maybe once you got to your dorm, you could bury yourself under your blankets and pretend this day had never happened. But as Fred’s laughter replayed in your mind, that hollow ache in your chest only deepened, a painful reminder that the crush you’d tried so hard to ignore had just been shattered into a thousand pieces.

The castle was growing colder as the evening chill settled into the stone walls, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows that danced eerily across the corridors. Most students had retreated to the warmth of their common rooms by now, leaving the hallways nearly deserted. Your footsteps echoed in the emptiness, each step seeming to mock you, the sound hollow and taunting in your ears.

You walked quickly, head down, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if you could somehow hold yourself together. The memory of Fred with his arm around Angelina replayed in your mind like a cruel, broken record: the way they laughed together, how natural and easy it was between them. Every replay brought a fresh stab of pain, and your heart clenched with a bitterness that spread like ice through your veins.

"Why did I let myself hope?" you thought bitterly, your breaths coming faster, more shallow. "I should’ve known better. It was foolish to think someone like him would notice someone like me." 

The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before you, each flickering torch like a cruel spotlight illuminating your thoughts. Your eyes stung, but you pressed your lips together to stop them from trembling, refusing to let the tears fall. 

In the silence, your whispered words seemed to echo louder than you intended:  

"Stupid feelings. Stupid Fred."

As soon as the words left your mouth, a pang of guilt washed over you. You didn’t really think Fred was stupid. No, the problem was that he was far too wonderful—kind, funny, effortlessly charming. It was why it hurt so much that he didn’t see you the way you saw him. But right now, the hurt and frustration twisted your feelings into a tangled mess that you couldn’t sort through.

"No," you argued with yourself, wiping furiously at your eyes. "He’s not wonderful if he can’t even see what’s right in front of him."

But just as you were nearing the corner by the library, hurried footsteps echoed behind you, breaking the silence of the empty corridor. Your heart lurched, and for a wild moment, you hoped it was just a Prefect doing their rounds. But then, you heard that unmistakable voice—slightly breathless, tinged with concern.

"Oi! Wait up, will you?"

You froze, your back stiffening. Of course, it had to be him. You clenched your fists, trying to steady your breath, but your heart was already racing, your emotions threatening to spill over. You took a deep breath, wiping at your eyes one last time before reluctantly turning around.

There he was—Fred Weasley, jogging toward you, his hair slightly tousled and cheeks flushed from the cold. His Gryffindor scarf was loose around his neck, his shirt still slightly damp from practice, the scent of soap and fresh air clinging to him.

"Oh, Merlin," you thought, your heart sinking. "Why did it have to be him?"

You averted your gaze, focusing on the floor, the ancient stones suddenly fascinating. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you were sure they were glowing like a pair of red lanterns.  

"What do you want, Fred?" you asked, the words coming out sharper than you intended. You winced internally but kept your eyes down, afraid that if you looked at him, everything you were feeling would be written all over your face.

Fred paused, leaning forward slightly to catch his breath, his hands resting on his knees. When he straightened up, his expression was a mix of concern and confusion.  

"Just... thought you shouldn’t be walking back alone," he said, his tone light but with a hint of something softer beneath it. "It’s late, you know."

You could hear the familiar teasing lilt in his voice, but there was also that glimmer of genuine worry that made your chest ache even more. Why did he have to be so kind, so thoughtful? It only made everything hurt more. 

"I’m fine," you replied curtly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, trying to keep your voice steady. "I can walk myself."

Fred’s brows furrowed, his smile faltering. He looked genuinely taken aback by your tone, his eyes searching your face.  

"Alright, alright," he said, holding up his hands as if in surrender. "Didn’t mean to step on your toes. Just thought you might want some company."

Company. The word grated against your already frayed nerves. Company now, when it no longer mattered. Where was this when you needed him to notice you, to see how you felt? But instead of voicing your thoughts, you shrugged, still refusing to meet his gaze.

Fred didn't move, though, and you could feel his eyes on you, trying to read what was wrong. The silence between you was thick and heavy, and all you wanted was to escape, to put as much distance as possible between you and those concerned hazel eyes.

"Seriously, are you alright?" he asked, his voice softer now, the teasing tone gone. "You’ve been... well, you don’t seem yourself tonight."

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to push down the tears that threatened to spill. "I wonder why," you thought bitterly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You couldn’t tell him how much it hurt to see him with Angelina, how foolish you felt for ever thinking you could be anything more than a friend to him.

Instead, all you managed was a quiet,  

"I’m just tired, Fred. It’s been a long day."

Fred’s face softened even more, and he took a step closer. He was so close now that you could smell the faint, comforting scent of soap mixed with the crisp chill of the evening air.  

"Alright," he said gently, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But if something’s bothering you... you can tell me, you know."

You nodded stiffly, not trusting yourself to speak. If you opened your mouth now, you were afraid everything would spill out—all your hurt, your frustration, your stupid, unrequited feelings. The ache in your chest was almost unbearable, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing you like this.

Fred hesitated for a moment, like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t push. Instead, he simply fell into step beside you, matching your slow, tense pace. The corridor stretched ahead, dark and silent except for the faint sound of your footsteps and the occasional crackle of torchlight.

As you reached the staircase leading up to the Gryffindor tower, Fred’s fingers brushed lightly against yours, the touch almost hesitant, as if he was testing the waters. Your heart leapt at the contact, a flicker of warmth amidst the cold that had settled inside you. But before you could process it, you pulled your hand away, clenching it into a fist to stop it from trembling.

"Goodnight, Fred," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, you hurried up the stairs, your footsteps echoing behind you. You didn’t dare look back, afraid that if you did, the tears you’d been holding back would finally break free.

Fred stood at the base of the staircase, watching you disappear, a confused and slightly hurt expression on his face. But you didn’t see it—your vision was too blurred by the tears that had finally escaped, leaving a glistening trail down your cheeks.

The Gryffindor common room was unusually quiet, the warmth of the crackling fire filling the near-empty space with a cozy, intimate atmosphere. The flickering glow danced across the walls, casting long, wavering shadows that seemed to move in sync with your erratic thoughts. The few first-years in the corner barely registered to you—they were simply background noise, whispers that faded away as you focused on the tightening knot in your chest.

You and Fred entered together, the cold from the castle corridors clinging to your clothes, quickly replaced by the welcoming heat of the common room. You hesitated near the door, feeling that strange tension between wanting to run to your dormitory and wanting to stay near him, even though every second hurt. 

Fred paused, looking at you with a gentle gaze, before nodding toward the large armchairs by the hearth.  

"Come on, let’s sit for a bit," he suggested, his voice softer than usual. There was an uncharacteristic uncertainty in his tone, as if he sensed just how fragile the moment was. 

You swallowed hard, reluctant but following him nonetheless. Every muscle in your body was tense, as though you were walking into a trap of your own making. You felt like you were about to break, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave—not with the way Fred was looking at you.

You sank into the plush armchair, the warmth of the fire licking at your face, but it did little to chase away the cold that had settled deep in your bones. Fred sat across from you, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He was watching you, his eyes full of that same concern that had been haunting you all evening, and it was almost unbearable. You turned your gaze to the flames, the dancing colors easier to focus on than the intensity of his eyes.

The silence between you was thick, heavy with words unspoken, questions unasked. You didn’t want to be here, didn’t want this conversation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You bit the inside of your cheek, hard enough to ground yourself, to keep yourself from snapping. "Why can’t he just let this go?" you thought, frustration and hurt battling for control.

Fred cleared his throat, trying to break the tension. He flashed that familiar grin, the one that usually made your heart flutter, made you forget everything else.  

"You’re awfully quiet tonight. Lost your voice after cheering for us so much at practice?" he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

But tonight, that grin was a reminder of everything you could never have, everything that seemed so far out of reach. You forced a laugh, hollow and thin, barely glancing at him.  

"Yeah, something like that," you muttered, your voice sounding distant even to yourself. 

"Come on, just act normal," you scolded yourself internally. "Don’t let him see how much this is affecting you." But the ache in your chest made it impossible to mask your feelings, no matter how hard you tried.

Fred's grin faded, his brow furrowing as he leaned in closer, his eyes searching your face.  

"Alright, enough of that," he said, his voice softening, the teasing gone. "Something’s definitely off, and I’m not leaving until you tell me what it is."

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten painfully. You didn’t want this—didn’t want his concern, his kindness. It was easier when he was teasing, when you could brush him off and pretend you were okay. But this, the gentle tone, the genuine worry—it was too much. It made the walls you’d built around your heart feel like they were crumbling, and you weren’t ready for that.

You bit your lip, your fingers digging into the armrest of the chair as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded.  

"It’s nothing, really," you said, forcing your voice to stay steady, though it felt like you were holding back a dam that was ready to burst.

Fred’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not believing you. He shifted in his seat, leaning even closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.  

"You’ve been acting weird all evening. And it’s not just tonight—it’s been going on for days." His gaze softened, a touch of uncertainty entering his expression. "Did I do something wrong?"

The question almost shattered you. If only he knew. You felt a lump form in your throat, your vision blurring as tears threatened to spill. You shook your head quickly, focusing on your lap, trying to blink the tears away.  

"No, it’s... it’s not you, Fred," you managed, your voice trembling, barely holding together. 

He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching your face. You could feel him studying you, trying to piece together what was wrong. He sighed softly, rubbing the back of his neck, a rare sign of discomfort.  

"Look, I’m not great at this stuff," he admitted, "but you can talk to me, you know. Whatever it is, I’m here."

His words almost undid you. There was a raw earnestness in his voice, a vulnerability that you rarely saw from Fred. For a split second, you were tempted to tell him everything—the hurt, the jealousy, the way your heart ached every time you saw him with Angelina. But the fear of rejection, the fear of making a fool of yourself, kept you silent. The walls around your heart were fragile, but they were still standing.

Fred reached out, his fingers brushing against your knee gently, and it sent a jolt through you.  

"Hey," he said softly, his eyes meeting yours, his gaze pleading. "Please, don’t shut me out."

The unexpected touch, the warmth of his fingers, was too much. A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. You turned your face away quickly, your breath hitching.  

"I-I can’t," you whispered, your voice breaking. "It’s too... I just can’t, alright?"

You heard him inhale sharply, and you knew he’d seen the tear. You hated how vulnerable you felt, hated that you were falling apart in front of him. You wished you could disappear, wished the floor would swallow you up.

Fred’s expression softened even more, and he moved his chair closer, the legs scraping softly against the floor. He was so close now that you could feel his warmth, the scent of him mingling with the smoky heat of the fire.  

"Please," he urged again, his voice barely a whisper, filled with so much gentleness it made your heart ache. "Just talk to me."

You couldn’t hold it in any longer. The emotions you’d been bottling up finally overflowed.  

"I thought—" your voice broke, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. "I thought you and Angelina... I saw you two after practice, and I just—" You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. "Forget it. It’s stupid."

Fred looked confused, his brow furrowing.  

"Angelina?" he repeated, his voice tinged with surprise. "What about her?"

The words came out in a rush, a mix of frustration and hurt.  

"I saw you two together. You had your arm around her, and you were laughing, and I just... I thought..." You trailed off, your voice barely a whisper, realizing how pathetic you must sound. 

Fred stared at you for a long moment, and then, to your utter confusion, he started to laugh. It wasn’t mocking—there was no malice in it—but it caught you so off guard that you flinched, more tears spilling over.

"Merlin’s beard," he said between chuckles, rubbing his forehead. "Is that what this is about? You thought... oh, no, love, no." He leaned forward, his tone softening as he reached for your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours warmly.  

"Angelina’s just my friend. We’ve been teammates for years, that’s all."

You blinked, the words taking a moment to sink in.  

"But... you were so close, and I thought..."

Fred shook his head, smiling gently.  

"Nah," he interrupted, squeezing your hand. "I promise you, there’s nothing like that between us. She’s practically my sister." He paused, his gaze searching yours, his eyes filled with warmth. "Is that really what’s been bothering you?"

You nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment washing over you. Fred was still holding your hand, his touch grounding you, and for the first time tonight, you finally looked up into his eyes. They were warm, soft, filled with something you couldn’t quite name, something that made hope flicker inside you.

"Well," he said quietly, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand, "if I’d known you were jealous, I would’ve done something about it sooner."

Your breath caught in your throat.  

"Jealous? I—I wasn’t—" you stammered, your cheeks burning.

Fred smiled softly, leaning closer, his eyes never leaving yours.  

"You were," he said gently, his voice teasing but affectionate. "And... I think I like it." His eyes flickered to your lips for a split second before returning to yours. "I think... I like you."

Your heart stuttered, his confession hanging in the air between you. The warmth of the fire, the way he was looking at you—it was overwhelming. But for the first time, it didn’t feel like you were making a fool of yourself. It felt like maybe, just maybe, your hopes weren’t so foolish after all.

"You... you really mean that?" you whispered, barely daring to believe it.

Fred grinned, squeezing your hand again.  

"Yeah, I really do."

And just like that, the ache in your chest began to lift, replaced by something warm and light—a flicker of hope that maybe, this time, things would be different.

The days following your confession with Fred passed in a blur, the bustling atmosphere of Hogwarts enveloping you in its usual hustle and bustle. The castle was decked out in festive decorations for the upcoming winter break—garlands of evergreens draped over staircases, candles twinkling like stars, and the faint scent of cinnamon drifting through the corridors. Yet, none of that seemed as magical as the way Fred Weasley was now treating you.

It started almost immediately after that heartfelt conversation in the common room. You could hardly catch your breath before Fred began seeking you out at every opportunity. It was as though a switch had flipped inside him, and he was determined not to let another moment slip by. The morning after, you were quietly sipping your pumpkin juice in the Great Hall when Fred slid onto the bench beside you, so casually that it nearly made you spill your drink.

“Morning,” he said, grinning widely as he nudged your shoulder playfully. “Saved you a spot.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips, even though your heart raced at his proximity. It was a heady mix of disbelief and delight—was this really happening? You nodded shyly in response, still getting used to this new, attentive version of Fred. The way he looked at you, with that warm sparkle in his eyes, sent a flurry of butterflies through your stomach.

In the days that followed, Fred’s usual playful teasing shifted into something deeper, more affectionate. You couldn’t take two steps in the castle without him appearing at your side, whether it was slipping into the chair next to you in the library or “coincidentally” bumping into you as you walked between classes. It was as if he couldn’t stand to be away from you, and every encounter left you feeling giddy and lightheaded.

One afternoon, as you chatted with your friends near the courtyard, Fred leaned against the wall nearby, waiting for you. When you finally noticed him, he shot you a cheeky grin. “Finally! Thought you’d forgotten all about me,” he teased, his eyes crinkling in that familiar way that made your heart flutter.

You tried to play it cool, rolling your eyes even as warmth spread through you. “You’re impossible, Weasley,” you muttered, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips.

During Potions class, when you were paired together, Fred took full advantage of your close proximity. As you tried to focus on your bubbling cauldron, he leaned in close, his breath brushing your ear as he whispered jokes that sent shivers down your spine.

“You know,” he said in that low, teasing tone, “if I’d known you liked me that much, I would’ve asked you to be my personal cheerleader ages ago.”

You laughed, cheeks burning as you tried to keep stirring the potion. “Cheerleader? I think you’re confusing me with the actual Quidditch team,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly.

“Nah, I’d rather have you cheering just for me,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. The lightness of his words was underscored by something far more genuine, something that made your heart race.

Yet despite his affectionate words, a tiny voice of doubt lingered in the back of your mind. Every time Fred brushed his fingers against yours or leaned in too close, your heart soared, but the question remained—was this just Fred being Fred? What if it was all just another one of his jokes?

One evening, after a long day of classes, you were walking back from Transfiguration when Fred fell into step beside you, his shoulder bumping yours playfully. “So,” he said, sounding almost nonchalant, “I was thinking... maybe we could sneak out after dinner tonight? I hear the view from the Astronomy Tower is pretty spectacular.”

You paused, turning to look at him, your heart thudding in your chest. “Are you... are you serious?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, a thread of hope woven into your words.

Fred turned to face you fully, his teasing grin softening into something far more genuine. “Of course I’m serious,” he said, his voice quiet and earnest. “I... I want to spend time with you. Just the two of us.”

Later that night, you found yourself sneaking through the castle under the cover of Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. The thrill of sneaking around with him sent your heart racing as you tried to stifle your giggles whenever Filch’s footsteps echoed down the corridor. Fred’s hand held yours tightly, his warmth steadying you as he led you up the winding staircase to the Astronomy Tower.

When you reached the top, you stepped out into the cold, crisp night air. The sky above was clear, stars scattered like diamonds across a velvet expanse, the moon casting a silvery glow over the castle grounds. For a moment, it felt like you’d stepped into a dream.

Fred pulled the cloak off with a dramatic flourish, spreading it on the cold stone floor so you could sit. “Perfect spot, isn’t it?” he said, grinning as he settled beside you.

You nodded, sitting so close that your knees touched. The night was silent, except for the soft breeze and the occasional distant hoot of an owl. For once, Fred wasn’t joking or teasing. He was just watching you, his eyes reflecting the starlight.

“I’ve been thinking a lot since... well, since you told me how you felt,” Fred began, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “I’m sorry I was so thick. I should’ve noticed sooner.”

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. “I never thought you’d... I didn’t think you felt the same.”

Fred’s gaze held yours, his eyes soft and sincere. “I do. I think I’ve liked you for a long time, but I was too busy being an idiot to realize it. But now that I know... I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Your breath caught as he leaned in closer, his gaze flicking to your lips. You nodded slightly, and that was all he needed. Fred closed the distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was warm, tender, and filled with all the words that had gone unspoken between you. The world seemed to melt away until it was just the two of you under the stars.

When you finally pulled away, you were both smiling like fools, your foreheads pressed together. “So... does this mean you’ll be cheering for me at every Quidditch match?” Fred teased, his grin returning.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Only if you promise to score at least two goals every game.”

“Deal,” he whispered, sealing the promise with another soft kiss.

Sneaking back to the common room, your hands still intertwined, you couldn’t stop smiling. As you stepped through the portrait hole, a few friends shot you knowing glances, but Fred just pulled you closer, unfazed by the attention.

“Guess the whole castle’s going to know by morning,” you muttered, half-embarrassed, half-delighted.

“Good,” Fred said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let them know. I’ve finally got the girl I’ve been waiting for.”

The two of you curled up together on one of the sofas by the dying fire, the warmth from the hearth wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. Fred rested his chin on top of your head, his arms around you. “You know,” he murmured sleepily, “I never thought I’d get this lucky.”

You smiled, snuggling closer to him. “Neither did I,” you whispered.

As the castle settled into peaceful quiet and the fire burned low, you drifted off in Fred’s arms, knowing that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

[deathwitchess]

"And what exactly interests you then? Hm? A mystery to uncover? Hm? Crossing a few lines?" Baird asked with a little amused flick of his eyebrow. It was a fun topic, at the very least, an entertaining back and forth. And he enjoyed when someone showed some interest in him, How could he not?

"True and I do love all the attention I deserve" Baird shot back without missing a beat as he enjoyed that laugh that danced though the air between them. It was a nice sound from the other man, considering the mental clouds the other had seemingly had when this conversation started. "Well now- you think nine levels of hell with you wouldn't be worth it? I think we both know that's not true." never let it be said he was the sort to back away from such a time.

'Really now? Going to boil me down to one answer like that? Complex, I suppose. The dead are full of regret. Missed chances. Missed moments. Not all that different from people. The side of you that you present to the world might not be the same one you consider yourself. The dead are the same way, trapped in moments they can't move on from. So...complex is better." The Scottish man mused with small shrug of his shoulder.

"You know there's a big gap between blowing something up and getting yourself killed. " With some concerning things in the middle but- hey, he wasn't about that to push too much on the subject. "Just keep your head on your shoulders handsome."

“no,   but   only   because   i   would   approach   you   whether   you   were   dangerous   or   safe.   it's   not   only   the   thrill   that   interests   me.”   he   had   no   shame   in   making   all   of   that   apparent.

thinking   about   how   many   people   could   just   pop   up   now   as   ghosts   was   going   to   be   exhausting.   he'd   much   prefer   his   hauntings   to   be   physical.   “and   the   most   entertaining   always   gets   the   attention   they   deserve.”   a   small   laugh   fell   from   his   lips   as   baird   made   such   a   bold   statement.   although   a   part   of   him   knew   the   man   thought   he   was   telling   the   truth.   “even   so,   that   doesn't   mean   i   wouldn't   make   you   see   the   nine   levels   of   hell.”   in   his   eyes,   they   were   equally   matched.

“which   path   do   you   prefer   from   both?   the   complexity   or   the   simplicity?   careful   how   you   answer,   because   that   will   reveal   everything   about   who   you   are.”   now   isamu   was   being   dramatic,   but   he   wasn't   going   to   take   his   statement   back.   instead,   he   leaned   back   as   he   eyed   the   death   witch,   wondering   which   one   would   he   choose. 

“i'm   not   going   to   blow   anything   up   or   get   myself   killed,   hopefully,   so   it's   a   surprise   for   now.”   hopefully   not   for   long.

[beepsalotl]

never gonna get over MOON rising and WINTER turning. enough.

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF ATTICAN TRAVERSE: KROGAN TEAM

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Lt. James Vega, EDI, and Urdnot Grunt With: Urdnot Wrex, Dr. Mordin Solus, Primarch Adrien Victus and The Rachni Queen I don't need luck- I have ammo. Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[anonbinaryweirdo]

IS SHE GONNA FINALLY KILL HIM OMG

SHES PICKING UP THE ROCK SHES GONNA KILL HIM SHES GONNA

[possum-tooth]

um. im ab to live w my parents again.......

[richardnixonbutagirl]

my crush asked me if I was a cheerleader when I was in high school and I had to admit that I didn’t even go to high school <3 just normal girl things