#because even a tiny bit of doubt of what they do could end horrible- for golden; who had; like; a reputation actually.

[malkaviian]

I've having brainrot over Fredgolden since yesterday

[knapptapp]

Elevator- JamesPotter x GN!Reader

WC: 950

You are stuck in a muggle elevator with James Potter, Who wont stop flirting with you

Tags: Fluff, angst(?), Sarcastic reader, Slytherin reader, Flirty James Potter, Insecure reader

A/N: Wrote this from a prompt, trying to dip my toes into the Marauders fandom not a fully fleshed out fic or anything. A little experiment

“This might be a bad time to mention it, but I really like your perfume.”

“Oh shut up,” You said with a scowl as you once again pushed the emergency button.

Professor Corbyn had thought it a wonderful idea to assign the seventh year class a lengthy list of ‘muggle activities’ to complete. She had also thought up the brillant of idea of assigning partners randomly. Though you had your doubts about the “randomness”.

Still, it was a project worth a good chunk of your grade. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't blow it off. Which is how you ended up stuck in an elevator with James fucking Potter. James who thought your perfume was of utmost importance at the moment.

“No seriously, it's quite lovely.”

You ignored him and pressed the call button. A moment passed…..Nothing. Great, not even the phone was working.

“Where did you get it? From Diagon alley or-”

“Can you be useful for once?” You interrupted.

James pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning on, “Can you apparate?”

“No.” You admitted begrudgingly. Getting your license was on your to do list, there just hadn't been enough time. You were really starting to regret not putting it up higher on your list. You fanned yourself with your hand.

“Someone will come for us eventually.” James said with a shrug. He seemed completely care free and not at all worried about the situation at hand.

“Yeah. If we don't die from heatstroke before then.” You settled against the wall opposite of him and slid down till you were seated. It was just a tad bit cooler down on the floor.

“I know how you could cool off.” James said with a smirk. Just in case you hadn't understood his comment, he lifted just the hem of his shirt to reveal a sliver of tanned skin. You quickly looked away, but not before you caught a glimpse of a dark trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

“Oh fuck off.”

James copied you and slid down to the floor. Instead of sitting with his legs tucked up to his chest like yours, he instead stretched them all the way out. The elevator was tiny and James’ legs were long, the sides of his red converse knocked against your thighs. Cloth shopping had been another part of the project.

“Have I told you your shoes are ugly?”

“Many times,” James responded unphased, “You just don't like them because they're red.”

“Horrible color.”

“I think you'd look really nice in red. Got one shade specifically in mind actually.”

“Yeah, no” You fidgeted with the fraying sleeve of your dark green jumper. House pride was taken very seriously in Hogwarts. Wearing gryffindor red was an act of betrayal.

“You would,” He insisted, “I even have a jumper that would look perfect on you! Says ‘Potter’ right across the back.”

“Careful now James, I might think you're hitting on me.”

“Did it take you this long to notice?”

You knocked his foot away with your palm. James allowed it before he returned it back to tapping against your thigh. He was such a tease. He had been on this since you two got assigned partners.

“Ha Ha very funny,” You replied dryly.

He tapped his foot rhythmically against your leg, you tried your best to ignore it. The elevator was completely silent. The music had cut off when the elevator had come to a sudden stop with a metallic screech. There was nothing but the sounds of James and your breathing.

Your whole body was on edge. You couldn't help but keep anticipating the worst. Any movement made you feel like the elevator would go crashing to the ground below, You were stuck on the seventh floor and you had heard one to many horror stories.

“I'm bored,” James said, “We should do something.”

“Like what?”

“Why don't we play a game of truth or dare?” suggested James.

“Truth or dare? Seriously?”

“What else do you have in mind?” he replied smugly.

“Fine, let's play.” you agreed reluctantly.

“Okay, I'll start. Truth or dare?” James challenged.

You sat for a moment, mulling over your choices. There weren't many dare options while stuck in an elevator, but everyone and their mothers knew James Potter was a master prankster. He could probably come up with something within a second. Hell, he probably already had fifty dares planned out. Better to play it safe then.

“Truth.”

“Okay..” James pretended to think for a moment, he stroked his chin and gazed up at the roof dramatically, “Why don't you like me?”

Oh. Straight into it. You looked away from him uncomfortably. The thing was, you didn't not like him. Honestly, it was the opposite. But you couldn't let him know that. You would never hear the end of it.

“I don't not like you…You're just loud…” You said carefully.

“I think i’m quite charming honestly,” James smirked.

“Yeah, you think that.” You said with an eye roll

“You don't think I am?” James tilted his head to the side, one loose curl fell in front of his eyes. God damn it. Yes, you wanted to say. I've thought that you are charming since fourth year. But of course, you don't say any of it.

“Not at all.”

“You're forgetting the rules of the game again.” He teased. He leaned forward, only a couple inches closer than before, but still all too close.

“I’m not lying.” You attempted to sound confident and self assured but you couldn't manage to bring your voice above a whisper.

The gods must have heard your prayers because the phone on the wall rang. James and you stared at each other for a moment. He finally pulled his eyes away from you and stood up to answer the phone. You and your feelings were safe for another day.

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and the Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader]

It's time for the wedding - and the wedding night. Emperor is going to make sure you will bear his offsprings by the end of the night. Tags and TW: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, loss of virginity, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator AO3

You weren’t saved from the humiliation of a public wedding. 

You weren’t saved the torture of picking the flowers as you were choosing the attire to your own funeral – and you weren’t saved your innocence by allowing yourself to ignore all the handmaidens and their horrible, disgusting picture books about penetration, pools of blood and hell that is saved between the legs of a man. 

“My condolences, dear princess. For your parents. And congratulations on your wedding. Our deepest hopes go to your coronation, Empress.” “From the king of South, we send our sheerest condolences. And congratulations on the wedding.” “May your parents rest in peace. And glory to the Emperor.” “Grief surely suits you, Dear Empress. As well as the crown.”

You think you might puke right in your royal garments, looking at all of the royal visitors. 

King Price of Southern Kingdom, with all of his knights – you do not know if you can find solace in the girl clinging to the hand of his masked knight, the stench of death filling you with calmness that you don’t know how to deal with. The girl is terrified, just like you – if you may, you’re probably the same age, that years of servitude grazing in the hands that are covered by the sheerest amounts of gloves. 

The lady – you don’t know her name, and you doubt that any woman in this hall is even allowed to have one other than her husband’s – is looking at you with understanding. You think you might actually die. 

— Lady Ryley? 

She smiles, and before you can go to her – hold her hands, ask her to disappear with you, maybe run away somewhere, you don’t even know where – the masked knight already drags her away, a firm hand on her shoulder. You’re alone, the weight of the royal robe is pinning you to the floor. 

You are dressed in black as the only form of rebellion – guests must assume you’re still mourning your parents, the grief in their eyes is mixed with congratulations on the Empire finally getting prospects of offspring – you hope you’d tore your womb from your body before König could lay his hands on you. Guests may assume that the wedding is a tab bit strange, maybe somewhat unusual for the emperor to marry someone of your status – tiny kingdom, no worthwhile resources, and almost zero prospects for trade. Maybe, you were the only treasure this kingdom ever had to sell so eagerly. 

König holds your hands because you know that you would try to run the second he is letting you go. You know he knows this, too. Guests may assume that he is being protective of his young wife – assassins aren’t unheard of in these places, after all, you were the empress now. The much smarter guests knew what kind of looks you gave him – perhaps, you had the best options at killing the notorious emperor right after he robbed you of the last remains of your dignity. 

You smile and wave like a damned pampered pigeon, pretty and useless, all dressed up in bows and black pearls, dark stones illuminating the depths of your despair – only the monster you had for a husband would even consider ordering a mourning dress this beautiful. You’re almost ashamed of wanting to paint it red – you almost feel bad while holding the butter knife and thinking about plunging it into your chest, ripping away all the delicate laces and ornaments that cut through your skin each time you breathe a bit too freely. 

— You look divine in this dress, meine Liebe. 

He smiles, you know he is – he didn’t forget about his damn hood even on his own wedding, but he holds you dearly, but he smiles with his eyes, an eerie sense of happiness that makes every guest shake in their seats. The Ruler of the Empire doesn’t smile. Not at his wife, who looks like she would rather kill herself, for sure – but he smiles as you say your wows, knowing full well you are not going to fulfill them, but he laughs when the priest stutters once you refused to say you do the first time – König has to squeeze your hands, reminding you of your place. Even your stubbornness has a limit, apparently. 

His lips are dry and chastity. 

König knows he can’t kiss you like he wants to – too many guests, too many pricks, thinking they have a look on his wife. If it weren’t for the admirers and desperate rulers of foreign lands, trying to force their songs and daughters to marry him out of a pathetic attempt at saving their countries, he wouldn’t even think about a public wedding. If it weren’t for the annoyance of constantly swatting the offers away, he would never allow the world to see you. Not how beautiful you look, not how pretty your eyes are, glistening with tears, not how much he just wanted to smother you with affection like there isn’t anyone around. 

Hells, if he knew so many people would accept the short notice for an invitation, he would invade their kingdoms while they were away at his wedding. 

König holds your face in his hands, the contrast between soft skin and his gloves is making you shiver – he pushes his hood up, even just for a little bit, and the only thing that is ever revealed to the audience is the scars on his chin and sudden dryness of his lips. He thought he overcame his childish anxiety when he was still a tiny bird stuck in his adolescence – but he looks at you, his pretty little princess, and his hands are shaking from the anticipation of a kiss. 

The guests will assume you’re crying because you love him so, so much. 

The Emperor knows better, kissing the tears from your lips like it was the sweetest treat around. 

*** You thought you were smart.

You really did. 

Such a slick motion, such an easy task – the girl coming with Knight Riley, the weak one, with trembling hands and face that spoke of innocence of lambs and with calloused hands of a fellow worker, took your hand as you were leaving. The veil of laughs and jokes about finally conceiving a worthy heir for the empire made you shiver from horror – and the girl swatted you to her side, a single sleight of hand putting…something in your palms. 

Some sort of plant – dried, smelling of something sweet and edible, flowers that would feel crispy on your tongue. She smiles softly, her hands are gentle on yours – she whispers in your ear before your respective monsters can catch you and throw you in their layers again. 

She said, it was mercy. 

She said, it would make -it- feel quick and easy. 

You hoped, it was a poison. 

It had to be, you wouldn’t accept anything else – the desire to die and fulfill the destiny of a loyal servant, the whispers of the god of dignified death – you may not see the sweetness of the afterlife with your Princess, but killing oneself to save their bodies from being violated is a worthy fate for any. You pushed the plant in your mouth as swiftly as possible, chewing on the dried grass and crispy flowers, hoping the effect would be immediate. 

You’re bathed and oiled like a pig for devour, short for the apple stuffed in your mouth – instead, you have forced a mouthful of wine, goblets after goblets. To ease the tension of the first night, the servants said, smiling understandably. You feel warm, you feel dizzy, you feel hellishly feverish, and it couldn’t be just from the alcohol – you close your eyes and hope that the plant took its way finally, releasing you from the shell of the mortal life. You’re dressed up in pretty garments, skimpy as something that the empress should never wear – you feel like a cheap whore when your skin is glossy with oils and decorated with flowers. 

Just before you started chewing on them too, your husband finally arrived. 

You hoped you’d be dead before ever seeing him naked again – but you’re forced to watch his muscles tense as the only thing saving his lack of dignity is the smallest ever piece of undergarments. It doesn’t help in hiding his arousal, the monstrosity between his legs. You knew you would have to die before he is ever putting anything in you – but you see the outline of his manhood, poking from the side of a simple cloth, and somehow, you feel hotter than before. 

You blame it on the wine, you blame it on the poison you took. The warmness is spreading in your tummy to your lower areas, forcing its way to moisture your garments, a wet spot, embarrassingly big for an Empress, is slowly spreading between your oiled, scented legs. You’re nothing but a feast for him, a pretty little snack – you knew how much he liked to eat, after all. What great talent he had in forcing your legs apart and showing his head between them, that sinful tongue of his speaking of prayers and soft little blasphemies in the sweetness of your maidenhood. 

— You’re burning, little princess. 

You hoped it’s the poison working. 

For a second, he placed his hand on your forehead and caressed it softly, accessing your temperature. For a second, the cold of his hands made you nuzzle into his palm like a cat that was fed nothing but the finest pieces of meat by the hand that was ready to skin it for its skin. For a second, you hoped that his embrace alone would be enough to kill you. 

If you die, which you must do, you wish it would be with his hands holding you softly. 

— A virgin fewer? I thought you’d know what we’re going to do by now, little prin…

— Don’t stop be from dying. 

You let go of those words before you could claim your silence. 

König’s hands are grasping you immediately, a finger lays in your mouth, making you gag – you open your lips from instinct, no matter how much you want to stop him from ever entering your mouth. He is weirdly smooth with you, the other hand going to grab your waist and press you on the bed – like you ever had a chance to stand against him and run away. Like he didn’t have a row of guards just outside the door. 

— Dying? Scheisse, dumme What did you do? 

He quickly grasped your tongue, the traces of the flower still lingered on your teeth, on the further corners of your mouth – you didn’t know if you had to spit it out or eat it whole, and you didn’t want to guess in the matters of death and loss of dignity. You gag on his fingers as he laughs – an unusual sound. First, the smiles and happiness in his voice, the rings and chains he put you in, and now laugh? Perhaps you died already, and this is your eternal damnation. 

— Let go of me! You have no…

— Were you still so scared, Liebling? 

— I wasn’t…what do you mean, Your Highness? 

The title is good, the title puts some distance between you and him. Only imaginary – he is still as close as possible, hands on your body, wiping the traces of the flowers on the silk sheets and holding you in his embrace again, as tight as he possibly can. You feel ill, you feel hot, every time he puts his hands on you, you can feel your core throbbing, the poison making you dizzy and dumb. 

You almost feel like begging him to touch you again – and again, and again. König, for one, can’t wait to watch. 

— I wonder where you got it. Such a clever Katzen, ja? Eating aphrodisiacs before her wedding night, like I would just mount you like an animal without preparing my wife? 

He laughs and laughs, hand in your hair, petting you gently like you truly were a cat. You’re dumbfounded, the fewer makes everything make less and less sense. You close your eyes, you open your eyes – you feel him on you. Looking, watching, observing, you want him to stop, and you want him to rip away those stupid garments and touch you, as he did in that dim hallway, to push his masterful, sinful tongue down your folds and treat you like a…

You whimper as you fell on the sheets, truly embracing the cat in-heat stance you were for the last few minutes. You roll on the sheets, smooth silk makes your core cool just a bit, the pressure only building with each time you try to hump the sheets, not caring anymore if you were behaving like an animal. 

Perhaps, the Knight’s maiden really wanted to make everything easier for you – just in her own way. 

— Wh…what have you done to me? 

He is bracing his hands between your legs, lingering touches on the wetness of your garments, making you both shiver in anticipation. He is forcing his tongue on you, the immediate pressure making you meow from the sensation. You hate it, you hate it, you have to hate it because if you don’t, then what the hell are you even doing. It’s too much and too little, it does nothing to relief the warmth between your legs, only making you wetter with each stroke of his wide, warm tongue. — I haven’t done anything, little princess. You just want me. 

— I would never want you. 

— I can stop. 

You snap your legs around his neck before he can withdraw his face. 

König is laughing, the sheer adorableness of your expression making him want you even more. You look perfect, so lost in desire for him – gods, he just wanted to devour you, to strip you of all you worth and make you his just as much as he is yours. But simply pleasing you with his tongue won’t ever be enough for this night – he had waited for so long, too long, disgustingly long, he had to have you in every way possible. If he won’t consummate the marriage today, he might as well just die. 

Other night, he will make you beg – plead for him to give you his cock, push the throbbing member in your trembling folds, snap the pleasure from your hands and force you to accept being his wife. The other night, he could wait and tease you for as long as possible. The other night…

He doesn’t have the patience for this night – he can’t even kiss you now, the mere feeling of your trembling lips would snap him beyond repair. It’s unfair to you, little princess, his desire is too much for someone like you to take – alas, he has to have you. Alas, he will have you, one way or the other, even if he’d have to push your pretty head into the pillows and force his manhood between your folds. 

But you plead for him, the desire in your eyes, mixed with fear and anticipation, is enough for him to laugh again, his hand squeezing your chest. You look divine, absolutely – you would look even better when properly bred, tits full of milk, and belly swollen with his little soldiers. Emperor never thought of getting an offspring, always knew his fate was to fall into obscurity with the country he created, but you have wide hips, a soft belly, and warm hands – all the requirements of a mother. But you have the submissiveness of a pet and the wit of a wife. 

But he can’t wait to push his seed into you – with a groan, before you could even lay your eyes on his cock, he is already forcing it in, ravaging all the resistance you once had. 

The plant made you warm, aroused, and wet enough to be dripping when he first pushed his cockhead between your glistening folds. You cry, the feeling of being intruded, ravaged, bot entirely painful, but now very pleasant either, is nothing you were expecting of the first night with your husband. You were expecting screaming, pools of blood, half of your organs falling out from the newly made hole between your legs. 

You just feel…intruded. The knot in your stomach is as tight as ever, even as König gives you a few minutes to adjust, the outline of his manhood throbbing in your tummy. You don’t even want to look at him, and he allows you to drift into a trance, the aphrodisiac you took doing all the job of preparation for him. 

He is feeling you, raw and sensitive, your maidenhood is dripping down your thighs and his cock as he wasn’t exactly gentle – he will be the next night, and the night after, and after, he will promise to take care of you, little princess, but this night is about taking what belongs to him – and he will never allow you to keep your dignity when you can simply be his dumb, adorable wife. 

— You’re so…heavens, princess, you’re strangling me. 

He laughs, struggling to push in and out, his hand finding its place on your folds, playing and tugging with your swollen little clit. The bud is wet, no matter the pain you’re experiencing – the drug won’t allow you to stop wanting it, wanting him, König knows it’s not genuine, he has to work to make you this aroused, but for now, it will work. He doesn’t want you to feel pain – and he will make sure you’re able to take him. 

— Too much, it’s…stop, wait, I am…

— You can take it, Schatzi. 

— I can’t! — You will. 

You whimper under him, you cry under him, he only continues to move, tearing your loyalty to your kingdom with each harsh thrust. You came to this room wanting to die, but now you feel your hands wrapping around his neck, your hips buckling to meet his, to bring the overcoming pleasure like König isn’t the one to tear you apart – you feel raw, you feel tainted, the pleasure in your folds is nothing what you ever had before. 

You’re betraying yourself with each moan and each whimper – you find yourself begging for him, the tears of yours is not just from pain anymore. He kisses you, rough lips on your mouth, making sure you’re as prepared for him as he is, you want for him to stop, but you plead with him to continue. 

— Stop already…I…

— I only came twice, little princess. And you – trice. Doesn’t feel fair, ja? — ‘s not, I can’t take it anymore…

— I will breed you, Schatzen. Until you’re swollen with my sons. — It w…won’t be royal children…

— Ach, my blood is enough to make a dog royal. — But…

— I will breed you, little princess. You can stop pretending you don’t want it.

You’re not even sure at what orgasm you are already – you feel like he came already, the wetness in your cunt should be evident of his already breeding you quite a few times, but the time is a blur when every time you cum, your vision blurs and your brain becomes foggier and foggier. 

König knows you will look perfect, all thoughtless and swollen with his children – not now, maybe, with a few elixirs to enhance your ability to bear children, but he can’t wait till you’re done. You might not like it at first, princesses do tend to be just a bit dumb when it comes to their duties, but there is something in your eyes that is telling him you’re going to bring him sons just like a good girl you are. Just like he expects you to do, your pretty tummy all swollen, and your body is barely handling the passion of his lovemaking. Gods, he knew you would be worth it. Even if, to his knowledge, you’re not a princess at all.

[reverie-starlight]

{nobody like you- momo yaoyorozu}

I've been in such a momo mood lately, I just really needed to write something for my wife. I'm so in love with her she deserves all the best things ever.

fem!reader, no physical descriptions. slight angst but mostly fluffy. lots of yearning. reader and momo get a bit tipsy. teensy tiny bit suggestive at the end if you squint.

this is a part 2 to this drabble I wrote a while ago! reader is pro hero!momo's PR manager/assistant/best friend.

momo doesn’t need reassurance very often.

she hasn’t since her U.A. days. for the most part, she’s managed to overcome her insecurities and losses and shine in the hero world as a very dependable and capable leader.

but still, there are times that she falters and familiar feelings of doubt creep in.

you walk through the elevator that opens into her penthouse apartment carrying a bottle of wine and some take-out. for the first time that evening, she smiles.

"hey," you murmur, settling next to her on the red chaise-lounge overlooking tokyo's night life. it's cramped, considering she's huddled under her fluffiest blanket and surrounded by pillows, but you make it work and she's so grateful to have you close. "how are you feeling, honey?"

the immediate comfort of having you near dissipates and she's reminded of why you're here in the first place.

she shrugs. she feels absolutely horrible about how things on her last patrol had transpired. it was petty theft, there's absolutely no reason she should've let him get away, but she got distracted for one second because a kid ran in front of her begging for her help with finding his mother.

and of course a lost child takes priority over a stolen bag of groceries in most people's eyes, but the cranky old man (who was objectively having a better time than momo), decided to go on and on to anyone who hadn't seen the sequence of events about her "carelessness" and "clear bias". even after momo offered to pay for his new groceries and then some.

he happily took her up on that, but still decided to rip her to shreds when a pretty penny was dropped in his wallet in exchange for an interview from an outlet that has been anything but kind to her.

she groans and brings her hands to her face thinking about the media coverage she's been getting all day.

you put a hand on her knee and stroke your thumb over it to soothe her. "it's okay, momo. everyone who really saw what went down has been defending you online."

she peeks through her fingers to look at you with a pitiful expression. "really?"

you nod enthusiastically. "mhm! and besides, everyone knows better than to believe anything those vile journalists say about you."

momo drops her hands and looks at you gratefully. it's true, there's been a lot of fans and heroes alike calling out the news outlet for it's recent criticisms of fan favourite heroes, some of her friends included. she thinks back to the messages she received earlier from midoriya and mina, and those she's yet to check from todoroki and ochako.

"and," you continue, pulling her out of her thoughts yet again "you have me covering for you. I'll take care of it, don't you worry."

that's right, she thinks fondly. I have you...

but does she? nothing else has happened between you since that day you stitched her up. no words have been exchanged about it, no more developments have come about.

she's going to reach her breaking point soon, she can feel it, but she's terrified of putting herself out there without anything to confirm it won't be for nothing. not one sign to confirm that you feel the same.

you're not making it any easier by looking as good as you do right now- you're not dressed in anything particularly fancy, your clothes are rumpled and your eyeliner is a bit smudged, but you look perfect.

and you have food. what more could she ask for at this point?

you seem to remember the bag of food when her eyes are drawn to it and you light up. "oh! it's your favourite, I figured you needed a pick me up. seriously, I've got everything covered, so let's just unwind tonight."

she looks between you and the bottle you placed on the floor and nods.

about an hour and a half later, you’re both tipsy and singing at the top of your lungs to whatever songs come up on your shared playlist.

while you take a breather, you watch as she lets loose. her hair is down, her shoulders aren’t so visibly tense anymore, there’s a pinkish hue painting her cheeks and she looks more carefree than you’ve seen her in a long time.

maybe that’s not a fair observation, considering she’s currently inebriated (and you are too), but the sight captivates you nonetheless.

she’s gorgeous. so gorgeous it physically pains you to keep staring at her, yet you can’t look away. (in the back of your mind, you recall a joke she once made about you being a masochist and you almost laugh at your own expense.)

the yearning you’ve tried so hard to push down hits you like a truck and it only intensifies when the song ends and a slow song takes its place.

panting from her performance, momo turns her head towards you, the wide smile on her face that morphs into something far more gentle than you can handle right now.

you stare at each other. the slow strumming of the guitar in the background seems to charge the atmosphere and you’re both left with funny feelings in your chests as the song goes on.

your queue really knows how to set the mood.

the amount of love you have for her holds you to the ground and settles uncomfortably within you, like it’s fighting to come out. demanding to be heard. you don’t break eye contact. you can’t.

her eyes, wide and shining, show hesitation and… longing?

could she feel the same about you? all these weeks of yearning… does she feel it too? is she… waiting for you to make a move?

she breaks eye contact first, shaking her head a bit in the very same way she does when she’s doubting herself, but you’re just brave (and drunk) enough to keep her in this moment with you. determined enough to not let her down by chickening out.

“I love you,” you blurt out, and your own voice sobers you up immediately.

her head snaps up, and she looks at you again, this time shocked.

your heart sinks to your stomach as you take in the weight of your words. did you misread her? did you just ruin everything? you wonder what you must look like from her point of view right now. scared? probably.

“I love you too,” she says. the way she speaks is soft, but full of emotion, full of comfort. there’s hesitation mixed in there, like she’s unclear on what you’re getting at, but afraid to clarify.

you begin chewing on your bottom lip nervously, doubt creeping into the pit of your stomach, latching onto your heart and squeezing it tight enough to restrict your circulation. your body grows cold as the nerves eat away at you from the inside.

this is your only chance to write it off as how you’ve always meant it- friendly, platonic, very much not romantic. you could play it off, blame it on the alcohol, change the song and go back to how it’s always been…

but you think of that day you patched her up once again, and deep down you know your heart can’t take much more of this.

“I know… but do you… do you understand how I meant it this time?”

her breath hitches. a wobbly smile finds its way to her lips. “I think so,” she whispers.

you step towards her, grab her hand and rub your thumb over the back of it. “I’m so in love with you, momo yaoyorozu.”

she steps forward too, wrapping her arms around your neck. the tension in your chest subsides and it’s almost like you can feel your blood flowing again.

“I’m so in love with you, too,” she replies, her eyes meeting yours, wobbly smile evening out and becoming much more confident.

your hands find her hips and excitement blooms in your stomach. “can I kiss you?”

she nods and immediately leans in to capture your lips with hers. you gasp and reciprocate the best you can while trying to keep your grin at bay.

eventually you’re both giggling and pulling away, standing in her penthouse living room with your foreheads pressed together, breaths mixing as you pant.

momo isn’t in need of reassurance very often, but a kiss really can do wonders for a weary mind.

she pulls away a bit and asks you a question you’ve only ever dreamt of her asking. “will you be my girlfriend?”

you’re pretty sure the way you kiss her as soon as the last syllable leaves her lips is enough of an answer, but you reply anyway with a mumbled out “yes, I would love nothing more, sweetheart.”

nothing has ever felt as right as this.

~~~~~~~~

BONUS

when momo wakes the next morning, she’s greeted with the feeling of you curled up against her. images of everything that transpired after you made it official flash through her mind and heat creeps into her cheeks.

if it weren’t for the dull ache and pretty marks in various places across her body (strategically placed to be covered by her hero costume, she notes) she might have believed that part was all a dream.

but you’re really in bed, and all hers.

for the first time since becoming a hero, momo doesn’t care one bit about what’s being said about her in magazines. she doesn’t care about what criminals she’ll have to face later on.

her whole world, the only person who’s opinion she’ll ever truly care about ever again, is right beside her, sleeping soundly.

her heart flutters as she traces your back and watches your nose scrunch slightly. you’re so gorgeous in the morning light. she’s always known this, of course, but she’s absolutely ecstatic that the guilt that normally comes with that thought is no more.

she thinks back to something you had said to her last night- something mumbled incoherently as you both drifted off to sleep- and a realization suddenly hits her and sets her ablaze all over again.

shaking you awake, she waits for you to open your eyes before rolling on top of you excitedly. she relishes in your sleepy giggle and the feel of your arms wrapping around her waist.

“good morning, pretty girl,” she coos, pressing kisses all over your cheeks.

you whine in response, screwing your eyes shut and she smiles. “remember what you told me last night about needing to get all that stored up affection for me out?”

you peek up at her with one eye, curious as to where she’s going with this. “mhm?”

“well I just realized that I don’t need to hold back anymore, either.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m soooooo happy to have this done and very proud of how it turned out!! idk why but I genuinely think some if my best writing happens when I’m writing for miss momo.

the song I had in mind for the confession scene was sailor song, mostly bc it makes me yearn beyond belief and that’s the vibe of this fic lmao. I wanted to name this fic “dripping in my favour” bc I thought that whole section of the song is very fitting, but I really didn’t want people taking it out of context 🥹.

I am so down to turn this into a mini series, with PR manager!reader btw :3

@emmyrosee here it is!! <3

[norlestappen]

The Williams Shitstorm - LS2

Summary: After Alex crashed in Australia, Logan was just ready to be sad with y/n, but y/n was having none of that. She was ready to fight everyone to make sure her boyfriend was happy again. Sad-boyfriend!Logan x confident gf!reader

Time flew by, you cheering for your boyfriend, feeling so confident in his performance in the current season. You felt so happy knowing that Logan got his second chance and could finally prove that he was just as talented as the other drivers on the grid.

When you used to work in a boring office, you would always miss your boyfriend, seeing him on the television that was positioned on the other end of the room.

Dating a racing driver had its ups and downs, but you would never trade it for the world. You had a gentle, kind, and wholehearted man by your side, who never once doubted your abilities or you.

It seemed like the perfect opportunity when you were offered a job in Williams when Logan resigned for another year. You felt ecstatic being able to stay with your boyfriend, still being able to work and finally having that free time together that you guys always missed out on.

All of that gratefulness ended when you were in Melbourne, Alex had just crashed in FP2 and they had to find a solution on what to do. You were on edge a little bit, not liking the fact what the team was talking about. Getting Alex to race in Logans car? Impossible. Trying to repair his car? Unless they were magicians, that would be pretty impossible too. You were getting impatient, waiting in Logan’s drivers’ room, wanting an answer on this whole situation. You knew that Logan would agree to anything that James made him do, because he was just that person. Never arguing, in hopes to not raise any attention to himself.

So, when the door opened and he just laid down next to you on the tiny couch, you just knew something must have happened. He would always try to escape his mind by cuddling into you, like an infant. But you also knew that there was no way to get the information at that given moment. He needed to calm down, collect his thoughts and just relax before approaching the subject.

In the meantime, you were texting the wags group chat, trying to get more information on whatever drama was going on in the other teams. But most things weren’t new.

Kika and Flavy were complaining about Alpine being shit. Alexandra and Rebecca had their own conversation going on, while both Lilys, Luisa, and you were discussing what was going on with Logan. Barely a few minutes went on, when you got a message of Alex’s Lily:

Lily Albono: heyy girl, so I just talked to Alex, and I got horrible news. Alex is fine btw, but idk about Logan. Is he with you? Alex is worried. Apparently, Alex is driving Logans car tomorrow? Wish I had better news, but James said that Logan is sitting out this GP since Alex always has more points than him.

Your phone fell down, accidentally hitting Logan’s head as it fell down onto the floor. You couldn’t even process what happened as your whole body was suddenly fueled with anger and frustration.

Sitting up, you looked at your confused and sleepy boyfriend and you just hug him tightly. “Why didn’t you tell me, Lo? You do know that you can always tell me anything, right?” He looked up at you, nodding slightly, tears escaping his eyes already.

“You know about it, don’t you? That I can’t race anymore this week?” You nodded, not wanting to scare Logan because you knew that he was just the babygirl in this relationship.

[everlasting-rainfall]

Ok so we seen Shanks vs Akainu in pages au but what if it was pirates vs pirates or marines vs marines;)

shanks vs Buggy maybe even Shanks vs Kaido

Akainu vs Garp maybe even Akainu vs Koby since we all know how that went when Koby yelled at him that one time 😈

but if you want another pirate vs Marine pairing who has potential working well together then I would suggest Garp and Roger or Luffy and Koby 👀

Those are some pretty interesting match ups that you have there, dearie! I’m kind of imagining like an old Mortal Kombat styled scene with like pixelated graphics and health bars with you being tied to a post in the background as the prize for the winner

It’s honestly kind of a funny thought to me in all honesty but enough wasting time, let’s get into it! I’m sorry if some of these aren’t that good by the way, I kinda struggled with this a bit

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT FOR ANY REASON-!

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

Yandere, Violence, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Stalking, Blood Mention, Fighting, Getting Locked Up

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT FOR ANY REASON-!

So Shanks vs Buggy, I can’t see Shanks actively hurting Buggy even in a Yandere situation so I feel like how a fight between them would go down is probably like Buggy trying to fight Shanks and his crew

Maybe doing a bit well but it’s Shanks so without a doubt, he isn’t going to be able to do anything in the end so I feel like once Buggy has tired himself out that’s probably when Shanks offers him a proposition

He doesn’t want to hurt Buggy and Buggy wants you just like he does so why don’t they just share you?

I can only imagine Buggy’s reaction like this man shouts up a storm about how “No way, no deal! They’re mine! Not yours, keep your hands off of them!”

So Shanks just lets Buggy keep trying to steal you from them like no matter how complex the plan, Shanks just basically snags you back nearly every single time and probably leaves behind a note like “Offer is still in the air! 😁 -Shanks”

Eventually chances are that no matter how many times Buggy thinks that he has you, he keeps telling himself that he won’t give in and that you’ll be his and only his someday

However everyone has to break eventually so after Buggy puts his biggest plan to steal you and keep you with him forever in place only for Shanks to take you back a day later with the same note left behind, that’s when he’s probably surrender

He’d probably go walking off to Shanks and just be like “I’ll take you up on your offer now but only because I want to!! And I get her all to myself for an entire week!!” which Shanks agrees to

So all in all being fought over by Shanks and Buggy is basically just Buggy taking you then Shanks taking you until they agree to kind of share you

———————————

Shanks vs Kaido? Oh dear fucking lord… That can only go so horribly if they’re both chasing after the same person as if I remember then Kaido was actually on his way to Marineford when Shanks showed up during that arc

If they both have a crush on the same person then I pray for your well-being as I can imagine that Kaido probably had you first like he probably decided to make your island specifically part of his territory like man picked up your island and brought it closer to where his base is

Oh so graciously allowed the people of the island to live in exchange for you which caused you to become his tiny S/O who could fit in the palm of his hand and still have room to stretch themselves out and then some

Once Shanks found out about you though like let’s say that someone let information about Kaido’s S/O slip and that information spread until it reached Shanks, he was pretty interested and when he saw a picture of you that’s when he decided that he wanted you

And like what I’ve said before if one member of a crew is Yandere then expect all of them to be like Shanks’s crew were more than happy to go along with this idea of heading to Wano and snagging Kaido’s S/O as clearly you rightfully belong to Shanks as he loves you far more than Kaido does and more than the giant blue lizard (his words, not mine) ever could

And this is going to be one hell of a fight, Kaido is going to keep you with him or die horribly trying to like there has been quite a few attempts at taking you but they get you as far as almost on the ship before you’re stolen back

It’s terrifying, it’s loud, it’s bloody, and neither side is willing to give up until they have you

They’ll take breaks of course to rest and recover as they can’t fight forever and during that time, you better hope that you’re a master negotiator as otherwise this fight will either last forever or until one/both of them dies

This is kinda starting to sound like Broggy and Dorry to be honest but hey, whatever

In conclusion, Kaido and Shanks fighting over you kinda feels like a tower defense game as people are constantly coming from Shanks side to try and capture you while Kaido and the Beast Pirates defend you

The only problem comes from the fact that Kaido is more than likely at a disadvantage when it comes to fighting Shanks as I feel like Shanks is stronger

————————————

So Garp vs. Akainu as well? I’m sorry to say it but prepare to be married to Garp, Akainu doesn’t stand a chance against Garp as if Sengoku didn’t hold Garp down at Marineford then he would have killed Akainu plus we all see the feats that this man has accomplished

Let’s say that you were already Akainu’s Darling like he was a fairly alright Yandere to you if not terrifying as all hell like this man probably kidnapped you to keep you safe from the Pirate scum like “You’re pure and I won’t let a pirate taint you, you’re coming with me”

He doesn’t let you out of the house unless he’s with you as he knows he can protect you and that’s how you meet Garp, Garp is irritating to Akainu but he is a marine so he allows Garp to get close and look but not touch as if Garp tries to offer you a rice cracker or shake your hand then he’s smacking it away

Garp leaves you two alone with one thought in his head and it’s “How did a person as sweet as that wind up with Akainu of all people?” but regardless he continues on with his life with his mind very often drifting to you

Like he keeps imagining things with you and spacing out to random thoughts like he imagines going on dates with you and treating you far better than he thinks Akainu is doing as he envisions Akainu as this big scary lava monster that will burn you alive

At first, he doesn’t want to be a home wrecker by getting you to cheat with him but over time he starts to care less and less as he really wants you but alas he’s a marine and he can’t just go wrecking households for no reason other than “I love her” so he holds himself back reluctantly although he is very nice to you whenever he sees you with Akainu

Cut to Marineford and Marineford things happen, Garp is held down by Sengoku and Akainu lives albeit having been beaten down pretty bad

Garp is devastated by what happened and he tries to deal with things but as he’s dealing with things, his mind goes to you at one point albeit briefly and he realizes that you’re still married to Akainu and after what happened at Marineford. There’s no telling what could happen now

He’s going to save you so while Akainu is at Punk Hazard battling Aokiji, Garp breaks into your home and spirits you away with him to where he knows that he can keep you safe

Akainu will be pissed when he gets home and finds you gone especially with the clear signs that you were kidnapped, one of his first orders of business as Fleet Admiral will be tracking you down and getting you back

Your new husband isn’t worried at all though as if Akainu gets anywhere near you now then he’ll take care of it, Akainu can think all that he wants that he’ll have you back someday but while Garp is alive then nothing of the sort is happening

You’ll be staying right there with him and he’ll hear nothing about returning to Akainu like man’s expression visibly darkens if you bring up Akainu so it’s best to keep conversation topics about other things

At least you have more freedom with Garp, I guess? He’s definitely more protective and will join you if you go anywhere but he says you shouldn’t talk to anyone and let him do all the talking

It’s safe to just accept that Garp is your husband now, not Akainu and if Akainu ever tries to come for you then well it’s time to make the worlds hottest donut if you get what I mean

In conclusion, Garp vs. Akainu when it comes to you is just him stealing you and killing Akainu if he ever gets too close

————————————————

Ok so Akainu vs. Koby, huh? Yeah, we all did see what happened when Koby shouted at Akainu that one time and if I was writing this before the latest chapter then I would honestly say that Koby is someone who needs to back down and adore from afar while hoping that Akainu maybe dies an awful death

But after the latest chapter and also remembering that he was trained by Garp, I’d say that Koby would be able to give Akainu one hell of a fight if they were to fight over you and the odds would be against Koby

I feel like Koby’s best bet at keeping you with him would probably be to do what Garp did like grab you and run as I can’t see him willing to take Akainu on head on if Akainu wanted you as well like don’t get me wrong as if push came to shove then he’s going in

Luckily Akainu and Koby are somewhat reasonable people with Koby being way more reasonable than Akainu so you might be able to negotiate with them briefly to not get them to fight each other but that’s a small briefly because of Akainu as Koby will listen but Akainu will let you say like two words before it’s back to firing lava at Koby

Honestly I can’t see Koby being a Yandere that would actively kidnap you like he’d be the kind of Yandere where once you’re in a relationship with him, he’s clingy as fuck and barely leaves you alone especially if you live together but beyond putting you under prolonged house arrest for trying to leave, I can’t see it

So chances are that Akainu might actually kidnap you first over Koby and put you under permanent house arrest but maybe not so much house arrest as it is bedroom arrest until he can trust you to not run away from him

I can imagine though that Koby takes immediate notice of your disappearance and gets worried about you so he’ll probably go seeking you out and trying to figure out where you went

And if he finds out that Akainu has you then he’s not above putting a plan into motion that he calls Plan *Insert First Initial of Your Name*RFA which stands for *Your Name* Rescue From Akainu, it’s some pretty complex stuff too as he doesn’t want to just smash a window with a brick

When Koby has you though, he’s getting out of there and taking you with him so he can keep you safe and love you but eventually Akainu will probably find you and Koby. He’s not mad at you, well he sort of is but that’s besides the point

Koby probably will get a few new scars as Akainu steals you back and brings you home where you’re under serious lockdown like we’re talking ankle monitor more than likely and probably not being allowed to leave the bed except for basic necessities

Don’t expect to be there long though as Koby does intend to have you back eventually, it’s just that now he needs to a second edition of the plan with a better place to hide you and he’s not going to stop like even if you tell him to

He all but sees you as the princess in a tower with Akainu as a fire breathing dragon and him as the brave knight whose coming to save you

Chances are that he doesn’t even give a shit if he gets a few burn scars on the way out as it’ll be worth it when the drago- I mean, Akainu stops stealing you back

In conclusion, Akainu vs. Koby would probably boil down to a game of hide and seek until either Koby gets himself killed or Koby manages to either kill Akainu or hide you somewhere where Akainu legitimately can’t find you

—————————————

Garp and Roger fighting over you? I can personally see that fight lasting forever or at least until Roger dies, I think it would be pretty funny though if you just had no clue what was going the whole time so let’s go with that for this one

So imagine that you’re basically some kind of traveler and every island that you wind up going to if you stay there long enough then you will run into Gol D. Roger himself or Monkey D. Garp like you’ve been keeping record of how long it takes for one of them to show up on every island, it happens so much

Roger typically just throws his arm around your shoulders and greets you as if you were an old friend, he offers you to join his crew for a party and asks about any new adventures that you may have had recently while Garp just finds you and starts up a conversation with you like he’s pretty loud about it and maybe even offers you a rice cracker or two as he offers you to come with him to visit a marine base

Both situations would cause you to never be separated from them again if you agreed by the way but anyways, I can imagine that they always just have this serious look of disappointing on their faces whenever you decline

I can’t imagine the two of them immediately just jumping into a fight over you like it wouldn’t take long but it wouldn’t be just like greet each other then fight

Both of them are incredibly tough so I can imagine that any fight between them goes on without a winner like Yandere or not, Roger is going to put the needs of his crew first a lot of the time which I can see Garp accepting and saying he’ll let Roger go for the time being but maybe also throwing a few canon balls his way when Roger is leaving

Meanwhile as these fights are happening, you’re just like listening to music in the background being completely oblivious like it’s that one Spider-Man meme of like Spider-Man and the enemy fighting in the background while Stan Lee listens to music

Anyways enough jokes, my apologies…

Eventually one of them is likely going to capture you and bring you with them, I can imagine that because of how their fights for you are at a stalemate constantly then chances are that you’re never going to be leaving that person

The only reason why I can see Garp finally getting you is when Roger is executed and you’re in tears because Stockholm syndrome or maybe you actually fell in love with him then Garp will be there as a shoulder for you to cry on

He’ll comfort you through your grief and make you smile again eventually managing to get you to enter a relationship with him and boom, you’re stuck with another Yandere

The only way that I could see that scenario not being the case is if Roger asked one of his trusted crew members to keep an eye on you like Rayleigh or Gaban, hell I can even see you being entrusted to Shanks or Buggy when they get old enough like “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of Mom/Dad! No one will lay a hand on them!” because without a doubt they do see you as one

It doesn’t mean that Garp is going to stop trying though as he’ll always be there just watching and waiting for the perfect chance for him to get close and take you away

As for if Garp is the winner who eventually got you then you’re definitely saddened by Roger’s death as you were close but I can’t see any of Roger’s old crew trying to come after you, he definitely spoke about you but I can’t see him asking them to steal you from Garp as there’s no real point now that he’s dead

As for if you were present during Ace’s birth or his childhood? I feel like you weren’t there for Ace’s birth but you may have been occasionally with Garp when he went to visit Ace, Luffy, and Sabo but I don’t think enough to where they would actively remember you

In conclusion, Garp vs Roger feels like it boils down to a game of capture the flag but both parties are too busy fighting to actually capture the flag

———————————————

Now then Luffy vs Koby? I can personally see the two of them honestly deciding to ultimately share you at first to some extent as the two of them appear to be on somewhat good terms despite the fact that Luffy is a Pirate and Koby is a Marine

You know if you don’t count anything that involves the two of them fighting or Koby trying to catch Luffy as he’s a pirate and all but regardless, Koby is a good Marine and Luffy is a good Pirate so to an extent, I feel like they might decide to share you

This extent being that although they share you, sometimes Luffy won’t hand you off to Koby for his time with you and will try to make you stay with him while Koby does the same as he attempts to subtly convince you to stay with him

I’d recommend for either of their sake but mostly Koby’s sake to not pick either of them and just continue this life of being periodically passed between them and if you don’t want to see bloodshed or fighting then I’d recommend doing your best to convince Luffy and Koby to stick to the rules that were put in place

Koby would be easy to convince but Luffy, not so much as that man is as stubborn as a mule so you will have to make him one hell of a deal so you prevent a fight breaking out but then again even that might not work so a fight may be inevitable

And when they do fight against each other over you then I would say that Koby could put up a good fight against Luffy but I think that we all know who is winning this and walking away with you in the end and it isn’t Koby

I couldn’t see Luffy ever killing Koby but beating him so bad that he’s black and blue? Especially considering that Luffy is Yandere for you then he’ll gladly do it as many times as he needs to until Koby gets the message to stay away

But seeing as Koby is a Yandere for you as well then I don’t think that’s going to be any time soon, you can try to ask him to just stay away for his own sake if you run into him while alone but he won’t listen and will simply take you and get moving

Don’t expect to get too far though as soon enough, you’ll see an angry rubber man chasing the two of you or if you made off of the island then the Thousand Sunny chasing after the ship that Koby has you on

Either way, Luffy isn’t going to pull an Akainu and potentially kill Koby but he will get more and more irritated each time that Koby does show up to try and steal you away from him

Sometimes you probably do miss the days where Koby and Luffy would sort of share you between one another

In conclusion, Luffy vs. Koby probably feels like a game of keep away in all honesty where Luffy is keeping you away from Koby

[prettyinpwn]

Did Shermie ever argue with Filbrick about his decision to kick Stan out of the house? I mean, even though he was mad at Stan for ruining the Ford's project, I doubt he was happy about the news that his seventeen-year-old brother had become homeless and living in his own car.

Yeah, in my headcanon, I think Shermie - even if he was mad at Stan for breaking Ford's project and even if he did get a biased story about what happened - he still loved Stan since they're brothers. He definitely would have thought kicking Stan out was too far, hence why I think he tried to find Stan in Stan's grifter/drifting years after he got out of the military. But then when he found out Stan was conning people, the multiple identities, fleeing from state to state, getting involved with crime, etc... well, to him, I think it might have proved that maybe Stan really was beyond redemption. Especially if Shermie is as straight-laced as I personally headcanon him as.

I think that's why no one in the family came to Stan's "funeral" except their mother. Filbrick probably said good riddance, Ford was missing in the Multiverse, etc. Caryn went because she probably understood the situation more from Stan's perspective. She probably also felt guilty as hell for letting her husband just toss Stan out, maybe thinking, "If I'd just tried to stop Filbrick, maybe Stan wouldn't have been on the streets, and he wouldn't have turned to crime, and then he wouldn't have ended up dead so young...". Like she felt she was responsible, in a way, but she couldn't have invited Stan home because Filbrick would have said no, probably.

Back to Shermie, I think he probably just... gave up on Stan. Although, there probably was always a part of him that wondered, knowing that his father had a temper and tended to blame Stan for everything, and he probably knew Ford was a tiny bit biased because Ford believed that Stan ruined his future. But then Shermie probably got swept into his own life with a wife and kids, so just... let Stan go, hoping he'd get better and come back, but no. He ended up, effectively, "dead" to the other Pines.

I mean, imagine you have a brother your father always said was a coattail-riding loser. Then, he breaks your other brother's chances at a fancy college. Okay, oops, mighta been an accident. Then you follow his trail and find out he's become a conman getting involved with drugs and crime and who knows what else. You'd probably give up and think he's a lost cause. That maybe your other brother and father are kind of right about him being just a lost cause screw-up. Maybe you even feel betrayed yourself, wondering how your "screw-up" brother could do things that horrible, wondering how you ever believed in the good in him.

It's okay, though, because after Gravity Falls, I assume the Stans and Dipper and Mabel tell him and everyone else in the family the truth. Imagine that family reunion...

[starseaweed]

I've had some more bits and pieces of the RExLN crossover sitting in the freezer, so I might as well share some of it. I wrote a lil' of Six's thoughts around Leon and also Mono, so take this unbeta'd bit.

~ Now, for some incomprehensible reason, they followed the “not-Adult”, this… “Leon” man. Six wasn’t dumb, she knew this was going to end horribly, but Mono, in his incredible, unbelievable stupidity, decided it was a good idea to keep following the not-Adult. Even when the strange man stepped into copious amounts of muck, and even when he encountered bloated Adults, twisted like mindless animals, as Leon should have been. Why? Why was Leon so different? Hell, why were any Adults here acting like anything other than monsters? Plenty of them were twisted, sure. They came wriggling out of every tiny nook and cranny like leeches, lunging for anything that moved. Many came close to knocking the pair into the deadly waters below; far too thick for them to swim, and far, far too deep for them to wade through. Without fail, the not-Adult Leon, came tearing through the creatures, as if there was some kind of difference between him and them.

It stayed fresh in her mind while she and Mono, tip-toed on pipes behind the strange man. Echoed in her skull every time Leon spotted them, perking up with that idiotic smile before kneeling down to meet them. She bit the questions back every time he asked, “Are you holding up?” and “Sure you’re doing okay?” and after he fought a twisted Adult, “Were either of you hurt?”. Sometimes he offered them things, too. He said they’d “make them feel better”, if that was possible. Six didn’t understand his incessant use of ground-up plants. This weirdo had to be planning something. Maybe he was poisoning them, or fattening them up, or something. Because she knew he was lying. Without a shadow of a doubt, she knew behind that dumb face and kind eyes were lies, all lies. Six just knew. He was lying, everyone was, after all. The glasses woman, Leon, Mono, and yes, herself too. If she didn’t leave them behind first, they would leave her behind. And Six, well, she wasn’t going to be the one left behind. Ever. But these two boys! How should she say it… they were just so STUPID! Acting like they trusted her, double checking if she stayed close, doing everything like they cared! ...Like they cared about her. Her. Not what she could do for them. The weirdo Leon certainly didn't need her. And Mono had been doing just fine by himself, surviving until they met... Well, she didn't need them, either. So why. Why was she still there? Why were they still there? ~

It's been a while but I definitely remember the struggle of pinpointing Six's characterization. All of this, past pieces included, has been pretty rough and looking back on it I'm dissatisfied even with the extra work I put in to find the flow. Still, I want to provide for the few people interested in this little crossover! :3

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[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Yanni Yogi

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Case 1-4, “Turnabout Goodbyes,” is sort of the grand finale of the original Ace Attorney, and it ends the overarching story in a very satisfying way. We have the culmination of Phoenix and Edgeworth’s character arcs as well as elaboration on their shared history, we get some interesting developments about the past, and it features some of the most iconic moments in the entire series, from pointing out that it almost being Christmas means it wasn’t actually Christmas yet to cross-examining an actual parrot on the witness stand. Throw in the debut of charming hick photographer Lotta Hart and Larry Butz proving himself to be a bumbling asset, and you have one of the best and strongest cases the game has to offer (though in contrast with a lot of the rest of the series, it feels a bit easy).

Of course, a good case would be absolutely nothing without a good mystery leading into an impressive villain, and this case manages to have two! The first of them is without a doubt one of the single most sympathetic killers in the series, if not the most sympathetic: Yanni Yogi. Formerly a courtroom bailiff, being implicated in the DL-6 incident led to his entire life being ruined even if he was able to walk free. And in 1-4, he decides that enough is enough and he wants to get even. How exactly is this sympathetic? Well, that’s what this analysis is for.

Motivation/Goals: To put things extremely simply, Yogi’s goal is revenge. But nothing about 1-4 is simple, so let’s take the opportunity to do something that will be unique to some of these Ace Attorney analyses: Discuss the victim, Robert Hammond.

Hammond would likely have been worthy of a Psycho Analysis on his own if he wasn’t already dead; the man was a defense attorney who only cared about winning his cases, a very dark reminder that it isn’t just the prosecutors who are amoral in this series. Hammond took on Yogi after DL-6 and forced the poor guy to play the part of an insane man so that he could get out of the murder charges levied against him by Gregory Edgeworth’s ghost. And it worked! Yogi went free! There was just one teeny tiny little issue:

Yogi’s life was fucking destroyed.

Socially he ended up as an outcast, and things got to the point where his fiancee Polly committed suicide after dealing with the backlash. What’s more, Yogi was forced to continue living out his life as a deranged man, unable to really go back to normal. And keep in mind: All of this was done to free him from the consequences of a crime he didn’t commit, a crime he was only accused of because the victim’s spirit couldn’t possibly have known the real murderer was lurking outside the elevator.

It’s genuinely hard to blame Yogi for capping Hammond, because the dude was an utter asshole who demonstrably ruined Yogi’s life. Hammond absolutely deserved what was coming to him. Now, framing Miles Edgeworth, on the other hand… That’s a lot less forgivable. Edgeworth certainly never meant Yogi any harm, and he had just as poor an understanding of the situation as both his dead father and Yogi himself. No one involved here was on the same page, and all of them were being manipulated by the real murderer as part of his master plan to get his ultimate revenge.

Performance: In the live action movie, Yogi is portrayed by Fumiyo Kohinata, and to say he kills it in the role is an understatement. I think a lot of it comes from the movie showing rather than simply telling when it comes to Yogi’s horribly tragic backstory, with him getting to act out his reactions to Hammond’s cruelty towards him as well as stumbling across his wife’s body post-suicide, but he definitely ends up as one of the strongest aspects of an already stellar adaptation.

Breakdown: Yogi actually has one of the more lowkey breakdowns in the series when it comes to sympathetic killers, almost to the point that he doesn’t really have a breakdown. One minute he’s the teetering, goofy old man:

And then one avian cross-examination later, he gives up the goat and reveals his true self:

I actually think the lack of an extreme reaction gives Yogi a unique level of dignity and really highlights how utterly tragic his circumstances were, even if he really didn’t go about things in the best way.

Best Scene: The movie actually shows Yogi finding his wife’s body, and if it didn’t hit home how absolutely miserable and tragic this poor man’s life was before, well, here you go.

Final Thoughts & Score: More than any other sympathetic killer in the series, Yogi is the one who my heart goes out to most.

Yes, he’s not as friendly and charming as Acro, and he’s definitely not anywhere near as sexy as Geiru Toneido, but if you look at the facts this guy genuinely just didn’t deserve anything that happened to him. He didn’t kill Gregory Edgeworth, but no one believed him, not even his own lawyer; said lawyer forced him to pretend to be insane, which even if it got him free ruined his reputation and caused his beloved fiancee to kill herself; he ended up being stuck pretending to be a lunatic for years to keep suspicion off of himself even though, again, he was innocent; and then he ends up being used as a pawn in a convoluted revenge scheme. His only real crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time on that fateful day.

All of this really helps make Yogi the most pitiable villain out there. He is just a sad old man forced to live as something he’s not, and who lost literally everything. And after all that, the sole victory he managed to achieve was rendered completely hollow by the fact he ended up caught, being exposed in court, and then having the truth of DL-6 brought into the light, something that would have acted as his complete vindication had he not decided to kill. In the end, all he did was ensure his parrot was going to have to be taken in by someone else and perhaps even get himself the death penalty.

Yogi gets a 9/10 from me. A lot of this really comes from the movie more than anything, not because it’s better than the game version but because it expands upon and shows what the game already told us to great effect. He’s a fantastic sympathetic killer and one of the best tragic villains of the series, and the one all others should be measured against.

[khaire-traveler]

I have a question about signs from the gods if that is okay? I'm someone who generally doesn't look for signs from the gods and ends up rationalizing everything that could be seen as signs by others. The thing is, last week I was in a rough place emotionally and experiencing really bad feelings about things and I guess in desperation I called out to one of my deities asking if this was real, if I was wanted as a follower and I asked for a sign that I was wanted and was cared about. The next morning I woke up to a tiny little spider weaving a gorgeous web on my altar for said god, using two of the statues as anchors. To me this could be very very mundane, though a bit odd for tiny spider to build a web right there when typically they do it elsewhere. Then when I was doing some yard work I encountered two moths, one of which almost landed right in front of my lawn mower and thankfully. I spent a bit of time admiring her beauty and even gave her a little name before she decided she had enough of my adoration and flew away. And then my dad had me rescue this tiny frog in the wheelbarrow. The cutie sat on my hand for a good while before leaping into the great unknown of the bushes. Now see, my brain can easily rationalize this as the best day ever because I love tiny spiders, I absolutely adore moths, and I name all of the frogs in our yard every year. However, I can't help but wonder, because I thought of my god frequently during each critter encounter, if these were signs from my god to answer my questions. I'm honestly not sure because these could be very mundane things but at the same time, if there was any big dramatic gesture I'd probably end up terrified. I'm horrible at reading signs when it's not related to nature and survival. :(

Hey, friend! Thank you for the ask!

I have this problem (rationalizing potential signs) as well, actually, and it's something I've been working pretty hard on unlearning. I think, for me, these feelings partially stem from this rhetoric within society that "spiritual people" are just "crazy" and "dumb" and "making things up". I feel like there is a lot of shame around being spiritual and allowing ourselves to experience spiritual things. When I see something and feel it's a sign, I always find this little voice in my head being like, "No, you're just looking for signs," but honestly, what is the harm in looking for signs? Isn't that kind of the point anyway?

While I can't interpret signs for you (since they tend to be a very personal thing that varies for each person), I will share my opinion. It sounds like you already know the answer. Maybe you're doubting your experiences and would just like that confirmation that "yes, this is real, yes, this is a sign and an answer", but honestly, it seems like you genuinely already have your answer. My best advice to give you is to trust yourself.

UPG here, but once, I asked Hermes for an answer to a really important question. It was something that gave me lots of anxiety and that I was "unsure" about. He refused to give me an answer, and all he said instead was "you already know the answer". And he was right, I did know, but I wanted someone else to confirm it anyway, even though I didn't need them to, because I doubted myself. Whenever I go to Hermes with similar problems now, he reminds me "you already know the answer". I wanted to share that experience with you because it felt relevant. I hope it helps in some way.

My personal opinion is that each of those things was a sign to remind you that this is real, you are cared for, and you are loved. I encourage you to be gentler on yourself, and remember your experiences are valid. I don't mean to speak for the gods here, but your deities definitely don't hate, or even dislike, you. They're out there, watching over you, and I'm sure they're really happy that the cute critters you saw could bring you even just a moment of peace and joy. You are worthy of the care and love of the gods. Remind yourself of that.

I hope this helped in some way! Please take good care of yourself. 🧡☺️

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Weight Of A Heart

Summary: Tinkerbell had held Regina's heart. She still holds it even after it is back in Regina's chest.

The weight of a heart isn’t so heavy. 

Not when it is held in the palm of one’s hand, physically and beating.

Each heart has its own weight, Tinkerbell imagines.

Darkened hearts are heavier than fully bright ones.

Blackened hearts are the heaviest of them all. 

Or maybe it is just something that she is imagining... 

Maybe the only reason that the heart feels heavy is because it is beating in her hand. 

Maybe she is imprinting the weight of a decision on something that is not heavy at all.

Regina doesn’t protest. 

She doesn’t beg and she doesn’t cry. 

Not until Tinkerbell mentions her son. 

“You love him don’t you?”

And she is seeing a different woman entirely. A woman who wears an expression that does not befit the dark heart beating in the fairy’s hand. Love. She can see it in Regina’s eyes. She can see it in the tear that slips down her cheek when she says that she finally did something right. 

The queen says a lot of things. And Tinkerbell has grown to distrust every single word. But she can’t bring herself to doubt the sincerity of her words.

She loves her son. 

And Tinkerbell imagines that that is why her heart isn’t entirely black; why it still has a small but vibrant red glow to it.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do.” She says. 

And Tinkerbell can’t help but wonder if she truly wants to live at all. She thinks that Regina does, but not for herself. Not for herself at all. 

For her son.

For the one thing that she got right. 

And what kind of fairy—wingless or not—would she be if she had a hand in an innocent boy meeting some type of fate at the hands of a devious little fiend like Peter Pan. He has been a shadow and a blight on so many lives for too long. 

“I’ll give you your heart back, but I won’t help you.” Tinkerbell swears. 

She has never been good at sticking to promises. 

Not when the promises are dismal and unkind.

Especially not when she is met with sad, teary eyes.

She should know better.

She is too trusting.

And that has been exploited time and time again.

Too many times. 

Her heart may not be tiny and inky. But it has cooled considerably and it has grown terribly stony. 

Maybe she and the queen aren’t so different.

Maybe that is why she had been drawn to her in the first place, all those years ago. 

Blue had always told her that she was a bad fairy. Implied that she was a bad person. And maybe that is what Regina had been. A means to an end, albeit with genuinely good intentions behind it. A situation where everyone wins; two troubled souls fixing each other. 

Naive.

She had been naive. 

And Regina had been scared. 

What a dreadful, poisonous combination. 

Tinkerbell had bitten off more than she could chew. She should have known that a little bit of pixie dust and a glimpse at a soulmate wouldn’t have been enough. Not for someone who has only seen how love can hurt. Not for someone whose heart had already grown cold and stony. Regina hadn’t needed pixie dust. 

She needed a friend.

Someone who could have shown her that love isn’t such a terrifying thing. 

But she shouldn’t have lied. 

She shouldn't have have left Tinkerbell to feel as though she was the problem. That she was a dreadful, useless fairy. Shouldn’t have left her to take all of the blame. 

And Blue. 

She thinks that she is angry at Blue most of all. Blue who made her feel so small and so inadequate that she felt compelled to meddle in something that she had no business tampering with. 

Blue who dwindled her confidence so far and always made her feel like she had to prove herself. Sometimes she thinks that Blue liked to single her out. She couldn’t have been that horrible and troublesome, could she have?

And that is why she finds herself tagging along afterall, to save the son of the woman who’d cost her her wings. 

She promises herself that she won’t sympathize too much. 

That she is doing this for the boy, Henry, and him alone. Maybe for Emma too. 

She promises herself that she won’t even talk to Regina. 

She is so very bad at keeping promises. 

And Regina is so very good at making herself easy to talk to. 

Actually she is rather quite terrible at it. She is prickly and standoffish. And most of the time it is hard to keep a conversation with her going where small talk is concerned. 

But Tinkerbell finds herself content with that; she isn’t really one for lengthy conversations these days.

What has she gotten herself into?

Surely she isn’t growing fond of the Evil Queen. She wouldn’t…

She couldn’t.

She knows that she isn’t the Queen’s soulmate.

But when Regina gets her son back it becomes set in stone. She has this look in her eyes, she wears this smile. And she flashes it at Tinkerbell. Tells her that she might not have gotten her son back…her and Emma’s son back—they’re still working on that—without her help. Emma says it too. Snow White and Prince Charming, tell her that she had been helpful. That she brought their grandson home. 

And Tinkerbell feels like a fairy again. 

For the first time she feels like Blue had been wrong about her. 

That one mistake might just come to pass. 

Even if she doesn’t get her wings back, it isn’t such a bad thing to see Regina and Emma happy. It certainly isn’t a bad thing to see Henry, the real Henry this time, smiling and healthy. 

.oOo.

It is hard to approach her. Someone who had the best intentions. Someone who had never done her wrong. Someone who’d she’d done wrong all the same. Regina has spoken with Tinkerbell several times over but it never seems to get easier. Never seems to get any less awkward as far as she can tell. 

At first it was because she hadn’t apologized. 

Now it is because she apologizes too much.

She can never seem to find a comfortable in between with anything, let alone with people and relationships. 

“You’re pulling back.” Tinkerbell mentions one day. 

And she, not quite as clever and articulated as she had initially thought herself to be replies, “I’m more of a pushing away type of person.”

To her relief, Tinkerbell gives a snort and a chuckle. “Oh? Is that right?”

Regina nods. “There is a difference between pulling back and pushing away.”

“Care to explain it?”

She isn’t exactly sure if Tinkerbell is asking in earnest or in jest. So she replies just in case. “Pulling away is the withdrawal of oneself from the relationship. Pushing away is doing everything in your power to compel the other person to withdraw for you.” 

And Tinkerbell laughs again. Regina’s face reddens, the fairy had almost certainly been asking in jest. 

“But you did run away? From Robin Hood. I’ve never seen someone withdraw so expertly.” 

Regina clears her throat. “It wasn’t quite expert. You see, I got lost on the way home and ended up circling back to that tavern. So it wasn’t quite as swift of a departure as you might have imagined. In fact, I think that I met his glance for a moment…” She doesn’t know if this little story is making the situation better or worse. She isn’t exactly one for jokes, dark or otherwise. They never seem to land well coming from her lips.

But Tinkerbell is laughing again. 

“It stands to reason that I am much better at doing and saying things that push people away.” 

“Not from where I stand, it doesn’t seem that way.” 

“Well, I’m not exactly giving it my best effort this time.” Regina confesses. She presses her lips firmly together and knits her brows. “I don’t want to push you away, I want a friend. I want a lover. And you’ve treated me very well. Despite everything you…you’re a good person.” She pauses. “I’m not. It wouldn’t be fair for me to…” she gestures vaguely at nothing in particular. “You deserve someone who can actually…” But that isn’t quite what she wants to say either. “You held my heart. You saw what it looks like. You deserve someone who can actually love another person.”

“You can love another person, Regina. I already saw that with you and Henry.”

“Yes. Maybe.” She replies. “But you don’t think that it would be awful for me to find a lover while you still have no wings?”

Tinkerbell quirks a brow. “Then what do you call these?” She stands up and unfurls a pretty pair of green wings. She gives them a good flap, it is not unlike watching leaves rustle caught in a hot summerbreeze. They shower a small dusting of gold like dust motes in a haze. “I got them back after capturing an evil shadow.”

Regina smiles. She doesn’t do it often but it is getting easier these days. She smiles for Henry and for his willingness to give her another chance. She smiles for Emma who is open to letting her join the Charmings for dinner now and again. And she smiles for Tinkerbell who says the right thing and seems to understand her; both her dark sense of humor and what it is like to hate someone who wronged her so much that it began to take over her life. She understands what it is to have a touch of darkness. What it is like to have someone telling her that trouble or unworthy is all that she will ever be. 

“I’m very glad to hear it…see it. You deserve to have your wings back. You only seemed like a terrible fairy because you took on such impossible tasks. Blue hadn’t even tried…” Not many people tried to save her. Not during the time period when salvaging her was possible. The helping hands had all been extended far too late and she had bitten every single one of them. 

And Tinkerbell is holding out her hand now. 

Quite literally.

“I didn’t take on an impossible task, Regina.” She swears. “Let me help you find your soulmate. I’m sure that he’s…”

Regina takes a sharp breath. “I think that maybe the pixie dust might not lead to the same place.”

“Well, yes! I can’t imagine that he’s still at that same tavern…”

Regina takes Tinkerbell’s hand. “That’s not what I mean. I think that, maybe, if you did use the pixie dust again, that we wouldn’t have to walk–or fly–very far this time.”

Tinkerbell furrows her brows. “Oh, well…” she trails off. “Oh. Oh!”

Regina grimaces and rubs a hand over her face, if only to keep the fairy from noticing the second blush creeping onto her cheeks. Evidently her entire face very well could be red this time. 

“You. Are you trying to tell me what I think you’re trying to tell me?”

“Well I guess that that would depend on what you think that I’m trying to tell you.” 

“Regina, do you…are you in love with me?”

“I think so.” She hasn’t felt love in such a long time. Perhaps she is mistaken. She doesn’t think so. “I don’t think that we need to solve everything with pixie dust…or magic. Henry and I have been working on the not using magic thing for a while not. It hasn’t exactly been doing well. But I think that we’ve decided to make an exception for using magic to do good things…” She is rambling. Making herself look ridiculous.

“Henry might be onto something. We have hearts for a reason. Sometimes they know what’s best.” Tinkerbell agrees. “In fact, I know lots of people who have fallen in love without magic or pixie dust to guide them. Blue told me that I need to believe in myself more or no one else will; that I needed to trust myself. Maybe you do too.”

“Good advice from a sketchy person.” Regina clears her throat. “Not that I am a good person, myself but nobody is asking me for advice so…”

Tinkerbell laughs. “You’re a fine person, Regina.” 

Regina swallows.

“You want to do right by people now and that has to count for something.”

“I suppose.” 

“It counts to me.” Tinkerbell recipes, authenticating her words with a peck on the cheek. 

Regina’s stomach tickles and her heart flutters. 

Her cold, small, hardened black heart. 

She thinks that it might have some warmth in it again. Some softness.

She holds Tinkerbell’s hand to her chest, right over her heart. 

“I needed someone to believe in me. And you need someone to believe in you.”

Regina swallows that lump in her throat and nods. She is getting teary again. “That would be very nice.” 

And her heart hammers in her chest. 

Tinkerbell holds her hand there for the longest of time. 

The weight of a heart is a heavy thing. 

But a heavy heart can grow light again.

Light and fluttery and warm.

[squirreltastrophe]

SO I WROTE A SILLY SHORT STORY HEHE!!!! :3

OK SO UHHHH. REALLY NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS BUT I GOTTA WORK ON PUTTING STUFF I MAKE OUT THERE SO!!!!

I wrote this little short story for a class and it;s silly and I kinda like how it came out so I went "hmm why don't I post it!" it's about my silly ocs that I post about a lot :3. oh also it has illustrations! oh and disclaimer I'm not the greatest writer ever I just like to get silly with it. I have fun :D.

BUT UH anyway I'm proctrastingating now oops story time

 Even the most mundane tasks are so different when you’re dead. Jinny knew this all too well. Sometimes it was convenient; no more need for doors when you can phase through walls! But other times, being dead was extremely lonely. Like when 99% of the human race can’t see (let alone understand) your ghostly form.

But Jinny would never in a million years admit she was “lonely”. How could she be lonely when she had such awesome living friends? Jinny thought about her best friends, Ophelia and Albert, a lot. The three of them were always acting on Jinny’s stupidest ideas and going on adventures. Or, more accurately, Jinny and Ophelia would act on an adventure and drag a begrudging Albert along.

The awesome friendship adventure plan today was to take Albert’s beloved bike to the largest hill they could find and ride down it without using the breaks. At all! When Jinny brought this idea up with her friends, Ophelia had enthusiastically volunteered to be the one on the bike. This was surprising, given how Ophelia had the courage and mind of a field mouse. Jinny figured she was trying to prove something to herself. She tended to do that sort of thing.

Jinny fidgeted with her hair in excitement. Sure she wasn’t actually the one riding the bike, it’d take her too much energy to not phase through the dang thing, but as long as Jinny’s friends were having fun, so was she!

After a walk through the winding streets of suburbia, the three friends arrived at a large hill. Jinny could see Ophelia tense up as they walked to the crest.

“What’s wrong?” Jinny asked, her voice startling Ophelia a bit.

“Uh, I’m fine.” Ophelia replied. “Just a bit nervous. Are you sure I can ride a bike down this hill without breaking my neck?”

“I’m sure whatever happens, it’ll turn out fine. And if you did break your neck, we could be ghost buddies! Pal-tergiests!” Jinny said. Her favorite coping strategy was bad death-related puns. Despite the eyeroll, Jinny could see Ophelia smile a little and relax her shoulders.

The helmet Ophelia was wearing (at Albert’s insistence) cast a shadow over her face, making it sorta hard to see her expressions, but that wasn’t the biggest issue. Jinny could read Ophelia very well— Which made sense, given that Jinny’d known Ophelia for pretty much her entire afterlife! They’d grown up together in the Underworld because of Ophelia’ unique kidnapped-by-demons-when-she-was-a-baby situation. Jinny and Ophelia had run away and come up to the living world for the first time recently. Ophelia’d been positively giddy with all the new creatures and plants they’d found. Before she could zone out even more, Jinny was pulled out of her thoughts by Albert’s reedy voice.

“I still think this seems like a horrible idea.” He said. Albert had a way of doubting Jinny’s plans, though she didn’t see why.

“Even if my impeccable idea ends badly, at least we got to see this view!” Jinny chimed.

The breeze had a tinge of Autumn sweetness to it. The steep hill they were on overlooked the small forest-surrounded town. Jinny could see tiny people and cars on the streets, all living their lives. The town reminded her of an ant colony, always moving and changing. 

The Underworld wasn’t like that. Sure, it was full of activity, but ghosts or imps didn’t change in the same way actual living people did. The bustle up here felt… different.

Jinny shook her melancholy away and turned to Ophelia, who was climbing on the bike now. 

“Are you ready?” Jinny asked, grinning. Ophelia nodded, her lips pursed together. On the count of three, Albert and Jinny pushed the bike with a heave! Ophelia bolted forward, letting out a squeak. Jinny watched as Ophelia barreled down the hill, the bike bouncing every which way.

“This was probably a terrible idea, huh?” Jinny said.

“Definitely.”

As if on cue, the bike crashed into a crag on the hill and Ophelia flew over the rock like a candy wrapper. Jinny yelped and sped down the hill after Albert. 

Ophelia sat at the bottom of the hill, holding a scraped knee, tears rolling down her face. Jinny felt a pit of guilt form in her stomach. She floated next to Ophelia, asking her if she was okay. Ophelia shook her head and blubbered in the same manner as a sopping wet cat. Without speaking, Albert whipped a small first aid kit out of his backpack and started to put some sort of ointment on Ophelia’s nasty-looking cut. 

How the heck is he prepared for everything? What does he keep in that backpack? Jinny thought. One time, Ophelia had needed something to dig with, and Albert offered an egg beater he’d had on hand. Not a hand shovel. An egg beater. It also seemed that Albert had a never-ending library of his favorite comics in his backpack. Jinny thought about Albert more than what was considered normal. Or completely platonic. But Jinny was getting lost in her thoughts again. 

Ophelia was still sniffling when Albert pulled her to her feet. They were all in agreement that Ophelia should never get on a bike again. And that they should all go home.

That night, the house was still and quiet. Too still and quiet. The house felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for everyone to come back to life in the morning. 

Jinny laid on the living room floor, turning the events of the day around in her head. Jinny hated silence. It unsettled her. The quiet drone of the tv— still on even though Ophelia was asleep on the couch— mingled with her self-deprecating thoughts.

I shouldn’t have even made Ophelia get on that stupid bike, Jinny thought. She got hurt because of me. Jinny’s thoughts continued to spiral like this until she realized she kept coming back to one thing: Ophelia bled when she scraped her knee. Jinny couldn’t do that.

Sure, it was trivial to mull over the fact that Jinny couldn’t bleed, being a ghost and all, but this fact just felt like yet another barrier between Jinny and her friends. Another piece of evidence that Jinny was only a paranormal puppet, pretending to be like everyone else. Jinny smiled as she came up with yet another immaculate idea. 

I can make myself like them.

 -   -   -

As soon as Jinny saw the morning light stream through the window, she popped up and started to poke Ophelia awake. 

“Rise and shine!” Jinny said in a sing-songy, overly-peppy tone. Ophelia simply responded with a series of grumbles and rolled over. Jinny shrugged off Ophelia’s less-than-friendly greeting. “I’m gonna go out! Be back soon!” 

Jinny had originally planned to bring her friends on her people watching/mimicking mission too; that was, until she realized they’d probably question why she was taking notes on everyone she saw. It’d be better for everyone if Jinny did this particular activity alone.

Jinny bounced out the front door, notepad in hand. She’d already planned out her entire day, from the places she’d go to the weather she’d expect (lacking the ability to sleep well will do that to you). The main place Jinny had planned to go to was the local park. She floated down the street in that direction, passing through the occasional person. 

Jinny arrived at the playground as the sun was approaching its climax. The park was very nice today! The forest encircling the park had a rusty fall time hue. People chattered and wandered like absent-minded mice. Jinny found a bench under a shaded tree and sat. Her leg bounced up and down as she forced herself to focus on the people passing by. 

She noticed a woman in a blue coat, leading an eager child to the swingset. She observed the way the sun’s rays bounced off of the fleshy faces surrounding her. She took note of how the people mingled with each other. How they all seemed to effortlessly fit together.

Jinny heard a mischievous laugh from behind her and whipped around. She saw a group of three older kids, plotting together. 

“We can’t explore the forest now! My sister’s still watching!” The smallest of them squeaked. 

“Oh c’mon! We won’t ever get a chance if we keep stalling! It’s not like she’s paying attention anyway.” The third child ignored the first two, simply reading a book off to the side. 

These kids striked Jinny as eerily like her friends. She wished they were with her right now. As the group ran into the forest, Jinny felt inclined to follow. It wasn’t too creepy if she was looking out for them, right?

Jinny followed the kids through clearings and thickets, dandelions and thistles. The forest was teeming with life and sound. Birds sang disjointed songs, creatures skittered everywhere, and ferns swayed with the gentle breeze. Jinny knew the kids couldn’t see her, but she found herself occasionally hiding behind  trees anyway. I guess I’m more tense than I thought. Every once in a while, Jinny smiled or giggled to herself when the kids would start bantering with each other.

Jinny found herself distracted by the canopy above her as she floated along. There wasn’t a sun in the Underworld (obviously), so Jinny was endlessly fascinated with how the sunlight danced through different things. Ophelia actually helped her notice this— Ophelia was always realizing little beautiful things around her.

Just as Jinny pulled her thoughts back to reality, she noticed that the quietest of the children was staring straight at her. Or, more accurately, through her. 

“Have you guys been hearing that?” The small girl squeaked, turning around to face her friends. “That rustling sound behind us.”

Jinny looked down and realized she had walked right into the middle of a bush while she was lost in her thoughts. Of course the kids could hear her now!

“Now that you mention it, I’ve been hearing it too.” The adventurous one replied.

Jinny felt an alarm begin to blare in her head. It’d be extremely embarrassing if she was caught by  5th graders! And it’d be even more embarrassing if she had to admit she’d been taking notes on socialization from these 5th graders!

Jinny bolted away from the little adventurers. She knew she was causing a ruckus, but at this point she couldn’t care less.

-   -   -

Jinny phased through the front door, walking in on Ophelia and Albert playing a video game. Ophelia was losing repeatedly, as usual. Jinny felt the shame and embarrassment set in as she approached her friends. She’d definitely have to tell them what she’d been up to now. And Jinny hated talking about stupid sappy emotions!

Albert greeted Jinny as Ophelia threw down her controller in frustration. 

“What the heck have you been up to all day?” He asked with a chuckle. Jinny’s face got uncomfortably warm. With a sigh, she plopped herself down between her friends. No way she could get out of explaining herself now.

“I… I was observing living people because I thought I could be more like you guys.” Jinny fiddled with her fingers. “I know it’s stupid and it wouldn’t work anyway but-”

“What? Why would you do that?” Ophelia asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

“I dunno!”

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out so blunt. I was just wondering why you’d do something like that when you’re so awesome already!” Ophelia continued. Jinny further shrinked into herself with the praise.

“I, for one, think being a ghost is cool and sick and tubular.” Albert said. “Tubular” was an… odd choice of words. But the meaning came across the same.

Jinny smiled a little. Now she just felt silly for worrying so much before. Jinny felt love swell up inside her and pulled her friends in for a hug. She thought back on the experiences she’d had with her pals: watching ice cream drip onto the sidewalk, laughing through badly made rom coms, attempting to befriend stray cats. Jinny realized how warm she felt right now. Not temperature wise (Jinny wasn’t even sure she could feel temperature), but warm in an emotional way. 

Jinny had been too wrapped up in mimicry and expectations to realize who she was. But she knew when she found herself, her friends would be waiting with open arms and unending warmth.

YIPEE YAHOO THATS IT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THAT A LIL BIT :3 this is one of the first writing things I've finished in a hot minute so it's very close to my heart!!!! writing is so silly I wanna get better at it hehe

[sonickedtrowel]

Young!11/River kissing for a bet pls (extra points for featuring Amy and Rory) 💕

Omg Anon I thought this ask was lost to the sands of time but it's still here and if you are too, well, you're in luck!! (ao3 link)

“Tell me you saw that,” said Amy.

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific,” Rory replied.  “I’ve seen a lot of things today, and I’m pretty sure I can’t remember half of them.”

“River and the Doctor!  They are obviously shagging, right?”

“Do I really have to think about this?” Rory whinged.  “I’ve got enough of a headache from all the alien memory erasure.”

“Come on.  There’s no way you didn’t notice.”

“I, uh, did get that impression,” he reluctantly admitted.  “I’m just not sure he knows it yet.”  Amy snorted.  “River said something to me, back when this all started.  From her point of view, it’s... like he’s slowly forgetting her.”

“That’s horrible,” Amy said softly.

“Yeah.  I wanted to say something helpful, you know?  She can be a bit scary, but it’s obvious how this hurts her.  But I don’t think there’s really anything to be done.  Whenever he does work it out, it’ll already be in her past.”

“Poor River,” said Amy.  “The Doctor’s a complete moron about this stuff.  A big, genius, stupid moron.  And even we needed a little shove.  If Mels hadn’t said anything, who knows how long it would have taken us—”

The sonic whirred, and the tiny red bulb flashing amongst the instruments on the TARDIS console blinked out.  The live feed went silent.  

Alone with the humming of the time rotor again, the Doctor slumped over the console.

Well, fine, maybe he was a moron.  But it wasn’t as if anything about this was easy.  It hadn’t been easy when she died before his eyes, telling him not to dare change one line of their life together that he’d yet to live.  It hadn’t been easy trying to keep her from winding her way into his hearts— in fact, he’d failed rather spectacularly on that front, despite his best intentions.  

It wasn’t easy to begin, when he’d already seen the end.  When he couldn’t change her future because it was already his past.  Wasn’t it all set in stone already, then, no matter what he did?  So how did it still feel like he was making a complete mess of everything?

Maybe it was past time he started clearing up after them.

___

“I won’t lie,” River called as he emerged from the TARDIS, “I was rather hoping you’d be back.”  She was sat half-curled on her bunk, her back against the cell wall and her diary open on her lap.  “How long has it been?  A few decades?”

“Er, about half an hour?”

“Oh.”  There was a quiet brittleness to the sound, her initial bravado faltering as she laid down her pen, and the Doctor noticed for the first time the red tinge around her eyes.  “Me too,” she said softly.

River Song had never looked so uncertain.  The memory of her warmth still tingled on his lips; the blaze of joy that had spilled out of her mind and suffused every place they touched.  How quickly and utterly he’d doused that exquisite glow with a thoughtless word.  He wouldn’t dare think River fragile, but something was on the verge of breaking here, if he didn’t handle it with the proper care.

No pressure.  The Doctor took a deep breath and gripped a bar of her cell, pausing in the still-open doorway.  “I was, uh, hoping I could give that another go.”  His cheeks felt so hot there was no doubt he’d turned a very unattractive shade of tomato.

“Doctor,” she said, placating, her gaze dropping to her lap as she sat up and valiantly cobbled together a façade of composure, “you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”  He forgot how to swallow for a moment, but basically managed not to audibly choke on his own tongue.  What was worse than tomato?  Molten lava?  The distance between them was humiliating.  He couldn’t have such a mortifyingly sensitive conversation shouting across a room.  Somehow, when he forced his unreliable legs to carry him jerkily over the gulf between them, it was only a couple of steps.

The Doctor sat down on her bed.  He made sure not to think about the fact that he was sitting on her bed.  River watched him, frozen and wide-eyed.

“River, I— I want this,” he managed to wrench out.  You.  Us.  Even as he made her an offering of his pride, his tongue couldn’t seem to shape the truer words.  He desperately hoped she understood.  No, no, that wasn’t good enough.  He reached out, taking both of her cold hands in his.  “River,” he repeated, the word creaking past his lips, raspy and low.  A plea and an admission.  He was tired, so tired of fighting it.  It hadn’t worked, anyway.  He was done for.  And every time he ran away, he only hurt her more.

He lifted one hand to tuck her spectacular hair behind her ear, and her eyes fluttered ever-so-briefly shut.  She still hadn’t moved; she seemed almost afraid to breathe.  Miscalculating their relationship like that must have been shockingly painful for her.  She’d reached out to touch him and been burned.  The urge to reassure her gave him courage enough to speak again, but god knew what was going to come out of his mouth when he did.

“River,” he muttered again, maybe just because he’d always loved the way her name felt on his tongue.  He brushed the backs of his fingers feather-light over her face, then his hand slowly lowered, hovering hesitant between them.  “Can I…”

“Yes,” she said, though it came out as a breath without sound, and she cleared her throat.  “You can touch me.”

Her whispered words sent a startling spike of heat through him, and almost before the Doctor knew it he was kissing her, slowly; scarcely moving but to lean in and cradle her face in his hands.  He did his best to take in the little details: the slight friction of her lips sliding soft against his, the stifled whimper she exhaled over his cheek.  He pulled back just enough for a shared breath to warm the air between them, for his nose to brush hers, then kissed her again.  When he dared to trace over her lower lip with his tongue, she sighed contentedly as her lips parted.  Surely it had been this lovely before, too, but the shock had gotten the better of him.  Now he felt he could just melt into her; forget everything in the universe but how good it was to finally let himself love her.

She’d been generous with her permission, so he didn’t hesitate to slip an arm around her back and pull her closer.  The warm, solid shape of her under his hands, pressed to his chest, was intoxicating.  It was baffling.  He was a fairly indiscriminate hugger, but he’d always been too terrified to touch River like that— maybe afraid once he started, he’d never stop.  And good job he hadn’t, because this was not what it was normally like.  This was… bigger.  And the more he kissed her; the more he leant over her for a better angle and his palms pressed into her back and she shifted her body beneath him, making a ragged, desperate little noise in her throat; the more he realised this was very quickly becoming something he hadn’t exactly planned on.  Of course, he could stop any time.  River was following his lead, accepting whatever he offered but making no demands of her own.  That didn’t seem fair.  She deserved so much better than he’d given her.

“You’re, uh.  Sure I can’t convince you to come with me?” he muttered in her ear, and he actually felt her shiver.  Mental note of that, check.

“I really shouldn’t…” she whispered, but the ellipsis was audible, hanging in the air between them.

“I’ll have you back before they miss you.  And, ah, Amy and Rory have gone to bed.”  Not that he was implying they were going to require privacy, or anything— no, actually, maybe that was exactly what he was saying.  Thankfully not aloud, although somehow he felt like River knew just what he was thinking anyway.

“Hang on,” she said, squinting off into the near distance with a frown, “I’m just figuring out how weird something is.”

“Um, okay.”

“Mm, decided I don’t care.  Let’s go.”

__

Sneaking River out of prison (which surely shouldn’t have been so easy to do— what kind of operation were they running, anyway?) and into the darkened TARDIS console room made the Doctor feel, for some reason, positively giddy.  (It was also completely unnecessary, because it was his ship, and his companions had gone to bed, and there was also no reason she shouldn’t be there with him just like she had been an hour ago, anyway— except that it all felt very different now.)  She was holding his hand, and that was another completely mundane thing he did with friends and acquaintances every day without a second thought, but which suddenly seemed unusually intimate and warm and wonderful when it was River.  He couldn’t seem to stop giggling, which might have partly been nerves, and partly the unnecessary sneaking, but was mostly because he was, actually, ridiculously happy.  

River kept shushing him, but she was laughing too, which made him laugh more, which made her laugh and shush more and then, in a moment of wildly impulsive bravery, he backed her up against the console and kissed her.  That stifled both their giggles, as she let out a long sigh and wrapped her arms around his neck.  She really was outrageously, staggeringly, miraculously wonderful.  It was nice to just let himself think that for a moment, without five tonnes of weight attached to it; without all the shadows it cast.  Instead, just for now, he thought: They really could have been doing this all along?  He was definitely a moron.

“...and you really think this is going to work?  Challenging him to a bet?”

“Worth a shot.  Believe me, he’s a sore loser.  That’s how I got him to go to Space Florida.”

“Um, what is that?” River groaned mournfully.

“Ah, probably bumped into Amy’s nanorecorder, it was somewhere on the console,” the Doctor muttered over the dull chatter.

“Could you please shut it off?” she whinged, which seemed a bit out of character, but he obligingly fumbled one-handed over the controls for it in the dim light.  He didn’t find anything immediately, but he did crane his head to the side enough that he wound up pressed into River’s neck, and her skin was so very warm and soft under his lips as he breathed her in.  The sounds she made in response to that were even more enticing, and he forgot all about whatever it was he’d been looking for, until the echoey chatter came through again, louder:

“Oh, you should’ve seen him the first time I met River.  Before that, I sort of thought he was asexual?  But, not like a person is— like an amoeba.  But then he was trying to be grumpy with her and obviously kept coming up with horny instead.”

River burst into riotous laughter as the Doctor choked on air, searching frantically along the console for the stupid bloody little lightbulb — but then River hopped up onto the console and wrapped her legs around him, beaming at him as she pulled him down for another kiss and, well.  A little more humiliation was really a small price to pay.

“Oh, no.  Um, retreat.  Retreat!”  Rory was urgently whispering, but it didn’t sound as faint as it had before.

“What?  Is that— oh my god!” Amy shrieked.

Reluctantly, the Doctor pulled back from River, breathless and blushing, and almost immediately locked eyes across the console room with Amy.  Who was not talking to Rory in their room, but instead standing beside him in the corridor entrance, looking scandalised and delighted whilst he very deliberately averted his eyes.

“They do not need our help, clearly,” Rory said, trying to tug her away, but Amy whooped and cheered instead of following.

River covered her mouth, shaking with laughter.  

The Doctor sighed heavily, mustered up the few remaining crumbs of his dignity, and commanded, “Ponds, out!”

“Right on the console, Doctor, really!” Amy shouted back, grinning wickedly.  “Well done, River!”

“Out!” he repeated, a bit more desperately.  Amy’s boisterous laughter finally started to fade away down the corridor as he groaned and buried his burning face in River’s shoulder.

“There, there, sweetie,” she said, patting his back sympathetically.  “They’ll see worse.”

“That… is really not terribly comforting, River.”

“Yeah.  You have no idea.”

[harryfeatgaga]

Hi Paige!!! Horny anon here <333 Woke up feeling soft and thinking about H as an older bf… ;(( Let’s discuss…

The thing that strikes me most about Harry with a younger s/o is how protective he would be. I think he realizes that despite the age difference she’s perfectly capable, she’s an adult after all, and he doesn’t mean to be so over the top with it but he almost can’t help himself. It all starts when photos of you together surface for the first time, just a blurry little shot of you two holding hands in the produce aisle of the grocery store.

Your face is barely visible but you’ve got your head thrown back in laughter while he points out something just off screen and Harry feels robbed of the moment just as quickly as he sees it there, laid out cheaply on some gossip site and circled in red like some spectacle. He needs to take a moment to sift through his thoughts and gather himself. He knows people will be nasty about it just because they can be, they’ll comment about your appearance despite barely taking the time to study it, and they’ll call to question your character despite knowing nothing of it, and he knows that they’ll question his decision to be with you. It doesn’t matter to him any, he’s sure about how he feels—how you make him feel—but I think there might be a sense of insecurity in him about how you might handle it. He’s been at it for so long, exposed to brutal judgement since he was younger than you, but you’re just so innocent in all of this, so pure, so completely unscathed as yet by the realities of the life he lives, that he wants to sweep you up in his arms and collapse into a bubble that’s just you and him, where no one can see you, where your relationship is safe. And he does what he can to make it so, always advising interviewers ahead of time that his relationship is entirely off-limits, making sure he is as low-key about your outings as possible (even though it kills him a bit), and buying any photos of the two of you before they see the light of day (especially a certain photoset of you two on a yacht in St. Lucia that were horribly compromising but, oof, we can talk about that later). He does it all happily too even though he begrudges that it is a necessity.

He was forced long ago disregard any hope of romantic displays in public and the rational part of his brain adheres to his cautious garding of you easily, but the selfish part wishes he could just walk about with an arm over your shoulder, that he could just tell people to fuck off if they so much as looked at you for a second too long. He wishes he could tell nosy paps to mind their own business, to worry about their own personal lives and leave his alone, but in the end he knows better. And when he gets to come home to you, gets to shut out the world and abandon all of his pride for that innocent smile you always give him, he thinks it all worth every effort he’s made.

He gets to wrap his arms around you, and pull your body against his and it’s private and intimate and real and no one else knows about it but the two of you. It’s that that he protects with everything he has, it’s everything to him.

I know I’m being a soft bitch right now but I really think that his protectiveness would stem from love, not any sort of dominant want to control you, or because it strokes his ego in any way (he has other ways of doing that, we can discuss this next <3). I really think he would feel just so lucky to have you, to get to be the one that some monumental firsts in your life happen with that it’s everything he can fo to protect the most real and honest part of him—your love.

He feels so lucky that you trust him enough to share in those moments of vulnerability and doubtful insecurity and God does he want to keep those moments safe.

Ultimately, I think Harry would be a tiny bit insecure because he knows that dating him is not as easy as it should be. He comes with baggage and it would be naive of him to pretend not to notice it so, instead, he fights tooth and nail to keep it from affecting your relationship and that translates into very protective guarding of you.

wow this was a lot thank you for listening im crying <333 i’ll be horny later ;((

OH WOW YOU WROTE A WHOLE FIC FJNVBHHFJ LOVES ITTTT but yes :(((( I think harry is protective of his loved ones no matter what and it makes me wanna cry cause he just loves and cares so muchhhh waaaaaaa

[eclecticrecap]

Unfortunately, I think the right of passage of my life is to just accept the fact I will constantly be stuck in horrible decisions to choose from, such as:

My grandmother's house, a small home, only three bedrooms, one my father used (he snores too much that my mother cannot stand to sleep next to him) before he later could live inside the service/wifi forsaken home in the countryside to flourish and replenish a sense of humanity unlike his grubby handed children, whilst working for a pharmacy chain. The other room, was used by my mother, my brother having to sleep in that room because the second guest bed was just so small and my brother was afraid to sleep alone don't you DARE bully him (He won't technically see it but idk it wouldnt sit well on my conscious) And me? Well usually I'd share the master bed with my grandmother up until fated 2020 when I picked up the permanent curse of floor sleeping, you think I would be capable at that time of touching the second floor, even? Let alone a bed? Whilst the OCD brain termites had forsaken my bodily autonomy? I had free will, and permission to sleep on the floor.

But here's another problem, my grandmother's house doesn't particularly have a workspace friendly spot besides her own things, not many easy places to put my drawing tablet and pc without having to uncomfortably sit, so all I really had was the dining room's sewing table, I don't know why the sewing table was so desk-able and serving cunt with that tablecloth ontop of it, (during 2020 I got glitter stuck on it and then one tiny blot of ink.....whoops) BUT NOT ONLY THAT ITS RIGHT NEXT TO THE FUCKING KITCHEN, so I kinda had to settle for just not having a good place to be in Discord voice calls, for a 16yo chronically online during covid time that is a personal nightmare.

And let me tell you it would make me scratch my skin in anxiety and frustration when one day I had been on my pc and smelled the MOST DISGUSTING FUCKING STENCH OF A COUNTERTOP POLISH EVER HOLY SHIT I WENT INTO A SPIRAL OF ANXIETY, I DIDN"T KNOW WHAT TO DO, WHERE TO GO, THE BRAIN TERMITES FORBID ME THE STAIRS, FORBID ME TO SIT AMONGST THE CHAIRS AND COUCHES OF THE LIVING ROOM, HELL, EVEN THE FUCKING BACKYARD.

So I strong-armed through it, she was polishing her countertop for at least 30 minutes, not sure why it took 30 minutes, I arguably was already anxious to be there because she constantly would accuse me of scratching her stove when there wasn't anything noticeable on her stove, one time I placed a knife on there for 5 seconds to get something and the blade didnt even touch the stove and she started getting real mad and said "It's nothing like how it used to look" or something like that when THERE WAS BARELY ANY VISIBLE SCRATCHES ON THIS STOVETOP, I WAS SENT INTO A PANIC I COULDN"T EVNENNb FUCKOJGHN OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY GFOOOOOODDDD

Now, you know how I had dyed my hair a bit during this year? Well when I said I fully bleached my hair, I didn't mention the fact the lower layer of my full head of hair, was dyed red, now, remember the mention of my OCD preventing me from properly showering? Because the brain termites told me using the showers would result in terrible things happening to me? (I genuinely don't know how the fuck I didn't stink if I recall there were some moments I ended up sponge bathing in one of the bathrooms because there's no damn way, it was SUMMER in arizona.)

Well, that resulted in me not spending time to wash my hair, and if you ever dyed your hair (respectively, look at you, I highly doubt theres someone reading this who hasn't, I don't mind being proven wrong.) well, red hair, is messy, and the red dye SOMEHOW WAS TURNING MY SHIRT'S TAG PINK???????? AND WHENEVER I SCRATCFHED MY CRUSTY ASS SCALP, PINK WOULD BECOME MY FINGERTIPS, UNDERNEATH MY NAILS. AND I GUESS BY TOUCHING THE COUNTERTOP...THE FUCKING COUNTERTOP OR ANYTHING I FUCKING TOUCHED TURNED FUCKING PINK???????????????????????????

So you can imagine later in october, when I dyed it dark blue, I would probably run into this same problem, I wanted to wash it in the kitchen sink, since my family often uses sinks to wash hair because WE ARE FREAKS I DONT CARE WHAT IM TOLD I GET IT ITS WEIRD. But I wanted to wait until i could have assistance for it, I believe it was because I didn't know what shampoo to use, and alot of the times I just, crusty teen shit I sucked at washing my own hair.

But my grandmother randomly started thinking I was going to shower, however, I didn't say I was going to shower, now maybe its because I was afraid to use the shower, but even then I was still sponge-bathing to at least keep some form of hygiene, but I had a feeling it was more because of my hair because she didn't give a shit if I was in public spaces, and for her, the person who will openly tell you if she thinks you look too uggo for idk.. a walmart? And I previously was obviously discussing the hair dye transfer problem, so I had decided beforehand to just, wash my hair in the sink, like weird family tradition.

Now this was I believe the day after I dyed it blue, I had to leave the house, and we were supposed to leave the house soon. But suddenly she tells me she would not take me to the store unless my hair was washed, so I was a little anxious, because the brain termites were telling me showers were bad, but I felt like explaining it would make me get laughed at, despite how real those intrusive thoughts feel to someone with OCD, and I didn't predict us being stuck at this house for well... the entire year. It was normal for us to wash hair in the kitchen sink, it's metal, it's been done for years, but she didn't want to wait until I had help with washing my hair in said sink so that was arguably not fun. Thank fuck I'm medicated??????? idk

At least nothing in her house turned blue.

[hoodoo12]

Risqué

NSFW. Beetlejuice/reader, public-ish sex

No.

No.

No way.

No.

Nothing was ever right!

You sighed in frustration and your eyes started to burn, a precursor to tears. You sniffed heavily and wiped an angry hand over your face to try and stymie them.

Like he was an especially attuned dog, Beetlejuice popped up behind you. You didn’t know if he was basically a stalker or what, but he always seemed quicker to appear when you were miserable. Like a reverse incubus, it was if he couldn’t stay away when you felt horrible, like he was reveling in your gloom and dismay.

Deep down, you knew that wasn’t true. The ghost liked to make random appearances, yes, and if it seemed like it was when you were having a hard time it was because--again like a dog--he didn’t like you being upset. You were just feeling so down at the moment you weren’t thinking straight.

“Hey, babydoll, what’s up?” he asked loudly, as if the two of you were standing in your bedroom and not the dressing room of a department store. His eyes widened as he saw you were naked. “Oh baby--that’s what I like!”

“Not now, Beej,” you told him, dropping your head so he wouldn’t see the tears welling up in your eyes.

That move was a mistake, because it made those tears fall.

He didn’t miss seeing that.

“Hey, hey--” he said, taking your shoulders and spinning you to face him. You didn’t look up. “Baby, what is going on?”

“Nothing,” you lied, then repeated it, as if that would make it true. “Nothing!”

The ghost narrowed his eyes and when you glanced up at him, you saw he was taking in everything in the small room. Pieces of clothing were on hangers or tossed onto the ottoman that was supposed to serve as a chair. A couple of bits of fabric were simply left where you’d dropped them, in messy heaps on the floor.

You crossed your arms over your chest despondently as you saw a lewd grin start on his face. This was not how you imagined this afternoon was going to turn out.

“Babydoll--are you trying on lingerie? Are you trying on sexy clothing--for me?” he asked.

“No!” you contradicted. “I’m not trying on anymore! None of it looks good on me!”

The grin morphed to pursed lips as Beetlejuice considered this. “I doubt that’s true, babes.”

He grabbed your hips and swayed a little to some music that only he heard, making you sway with him. You didn’t help; you didn’t even uncross your arms.

“It is true!” you insisted. “Nothing is right--I hate lingerie, and I hate--”

You stopped yourself from saying what was really on the tip of your tongue. Beetlejuice could figure it out on his own, you told yourself.

He grunted his disagreement. Reaching out to a bit of satin that was on a hanger, he rubbed it between two grimy fingers.

“Who cares about this stuff anyway?” he dismissed. “It just ends up on the floor in a couple of minutes.”

Sighing, you knew there was no way to make him understand. You whispered, “I care . . .”

Beetlejuice ‘hmph’ed’ but didn’t continue to deride whether lingerie was important or not. Instead, he gave your hips a squeeze, then stepped past you to shove the discarded clothing on the hard ottoman to the floor so he could sit down.

“Okay, babydoll. Show me.”

“What?!”

“Show me,” he repeated, with a wave of his hand. “Gimme a fashion show. Let me see what you look like in this stuff.”

Immediately you flushed. Okay, yes, you’d wanted to get some new sexy undergarments to show off to him, but not in a harshly lit dressing room of a busy department store with random strangers in the other rooms! You wanted it to be a surprise, with some strategically placed soft lighting and privacy!

“Beej, I don’t know . . .”

“I do. Come on, put something on.”

“I already told you nothing looks right!”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

The ghost looked like he was ready to take up permanent residence in this tiny stall. You were tempted to try and wait him out, but he’d planted his feet on the clothes you’d worn in and he was dead, so he had all the time in the world and then some.

“Here. Put this on for me,” he said, scooping a random slip of clothing off the floor and holding it out to you.

You sighed and gave up. There was no plain refusal when it came to him being insistent. Taking what he offered, you stepped into the white ruffled pair of boyshorts panties and pulled them up. While you were bent over, you grabbed the matching bra and slipped into it as well. Once everything was in place, you tugged the panties to a more comfortable position and scrutinized yourself in the mirror instead of looking at him. You still hated it.

Finally though, you couldn’t help but glance over at the ghost.

That leer had returned.

“That’s hot, babydoll,” he told you, sincerely.

You looked in the mirror again. “No it’s not,” you disagreed, and were meticulous in telling him why. “The cups don’t fit right, so my boobs don’t look good. The straps are too tight, but this is supposed to be my size. I don’t like the way the ruffles kind of go out instead of laying flat. I look awful in this!”

Beetlejuice cocked his head like he was trying to see what you saw, then shrugged. “Okay, then. How about that?”

He pointed to a maroon teddy you thought might have been fun to try on. It looked good on the model wearing it on its tag.

“Ugh, no!”

“Babe . . .”

Because you knew he could be a needling pest, you sighed again and took off the bra and panty set. Grabbing the teddy, you shimmied into it.

The lace was scratchy and the cut on the hips was too high. It didn’t have enough support for your boobs, plus there were only ribbons to tie the front of the cups shut, so once again you self-consciously crossed your arms over your chest.

Beetlejuice gave this one a little more scrutiny. That didn’t make you feel any better.

After what seemed like an eternity of him staring at you, he said, “It that crotchless?”

You nodded, and it felt like the lace in your crotch became extra annoying.

“That’s almost perfect,” he announced.

Oh god. You glanced over yourself, wondering what it was he disliked about it. You knew what you didn’t like; there must be something that you hadn’t noticed, like too much of your back was showing, or the high hips were especially unflattering--

Beetlejuice clicked his tongue, and the color of the entire piece faded away to be replaced with vertical black and white stripes.

A snort of mortified laughter escaped you.

“Absolutely no way!” you blurted. “There is no way I’m wearing stripes! Not horizontal, not vertical--I swear to god I will send you back right now if you don’t change fix this, Beej!”

With a disappointed scowl, he waved his hand and the lingerie was back to its original color.

“You’re no fun,” he groused.

“You’re obsessed,” you countered.

“Guilty as charged,” he agreed easily, and you had to shake your head with a smile.

This time you didn’t give him the opportunity to demand the next piece of lingerie for you to try on. You took the one you thought might look passable on you, dropped the teddy and kicked it into the corner of the dressing room, and pulled on the looser, babydoll-styled piece.

It fell into place, hitting just the tops of your thighs. Once again the fabric was a little itchy, due to a fine metallic thread woven into it that caught the light. The straps over your shoulders were a little tight too, but not the worst. You did like the additional styling on the high waist line, and the way it flared out and didn’t hug you too tightly.

You picked up the hem and let it float back against your legs. You still didn’t like exactly where it hit, thinking it drew too much attention to an area you weren’t especially happy with. You looked for the panties that were meant to go with it, but didn’t see them. When it dawned on you that there’d been no response from your audience, you stopped analyzing yourself in the mirror and looked over at Beetlejuice.

You caught him drawing his thumb over his lower lip, taking you in with dark eyes. Now a new look had come to him. If you were required to put a name on his expression, you’d call it unbridled, borderline scary, lust.

Unselfconsciously, he dropped a hand to his crotch and adjusted himself. He cleared his throat to say,

“That color is perfect.”

You looked down yourself again. You’d never thought of yourself as looking good in blood red.

“That one . . .” He cleared his throat again. “That’s the one, babydoll. You look so fucking sexy.”

It was your automatic reaction to scoff and deflect the praise, but Beetlejuice held up a hand to interrupt you.

“Come over here,” he ordered.

It only took two steps to be in front of him.

You watched his gaze travel over your body and only with great effort did you not cover yourself again. He licked his lips and took your waist again. His grip was a little too tight, and you knew him well enough to know that was another indicator he was turned on; he liked to hold you like he thought someone might come along at that exact moment and sweep you away. When he looked up at your face again, you also knew the expression there incredibly well.

“Beej, no!” you whispered with a bit of panic in your voice. “We are not getting it on in this dressing room!”

“Baby,” he replied, “you’re so hot, I just wanna--I just wanna--”

“Beej . . .”

A sly smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Why don’t you just sit here for a moment, hmm? Just sit right here on my lap--”

Smoothly, he maneuvered you closer. You should be firm. You should insist that this was inappropriate, and there would be a very good chance you’d get caught and thrown out of the store and possibly even arrested! But it was nice to see how much you’d turned him on, and against your better judgement, you moved so you were straddling his lap.

“Right here, baby, lemme see how that fabric looks spread out a little--”

You eased onto his legs. Never wanting to put your full weight on him if you could avoid it, you balanced on the balls of your feet to hold yourself up.

Beetlejuice wasn’t having it. His grip moved to the small of your back, and he pulled you forward, so you settled right up against him, almost belly to belly. With your legs spread to accommodate his hips, there was no mistaking the bulge under his fly.

He stared directly at your chest.

“This is nice, baby,” he cooed.

Sometimes when his voice dropped the gravelly quality of it made you shiver. He noticed, and smirked.

“You like this, doll? I like this--I like this color on you, I like the way the fabric is just tight enough to emphasize your tits but thin enough that I can see your nipples, I especially like that it’s open at the bottom so there’s nothing covering your pussy,” he said indecently, in the same low timbre.

You licked your lips. You were wearing practically nothing, but suddenly this dressing room was too hot.

Confident you were going to stay in place on his lap, Beetlejuice released your back. He brought his hands forward to cup your breasts, running his thumbs over your fabric covered nipples. They tightened, forming hard points that he immediately gave gentle twists to.

You gasped.

“Shh, shh--” he cautioned, “--don’t wanna get anyone suspicious!”

But instead of stopping, instead of taking the responsibility that he himself was the one causing the problem, Beetlejuice pinched your nipples again. He darted his head forward, snake-like quick; you were familiar with the movement and only just stopped him from grabbing a nipple between his teeth.

“Beej, no!” you ordered in a hiss. “This isn’t mine!”

He growled in frustration but obeyed, but went back to the scandalous talk.

“It doesn’t matter this lingerie isn’t yours,” he whispered. “We can try to keep it as clean as possible, but I can feel the heat of your pussy on my dick and I know how wet you’re getting. You gonna leave a wet spot on the front of my pants? Are you gonna be able to not finger yourself if I leave you here right now?”

That last question startled you because no, damn it, he worked you up so much you’d just half-accepted the two of you were going to get down and dirty here!

Beetlejuice saw the shocked expression on your face and laughed.

“Oh, so you wouldn’t be able to not get yourself off, huh? Well then, maybe I should help you with that--”

With that, he shoved a hand between you. To your disappointment, it wasn’t to touch you. To your shameful delight, it was to work open the button and fly of his trousers, and ease his cock out. For once you didn’t rib him on the fact he preferred to go commando under his pants.

Puzzled, you shifted backwards to give him some room. “You’re not just going to make your pants disappear?” you asked, with a vague wave of your hand.

He looked up at you like you were insane. “We’re in a women’s dressing room, babe. What if someone catches us? No way I’m gonna be nude if I’ve gotta blitz out of here.”

The dry, serious tone he adopted to tell you that made you slap his chest as you laughed. He shushed you again. You knew him well enough that being caught was not a big concern for him. He was just being a brat.

Holding his cock at the base between you, Beetlejuice jerked his head and raised his eyebrows, and again, you knew him well enough to read the insinuation--

“Hop on for a quickie?” he whispered, confirming what you knew he implied.

When you didn’t respond quickly enough, he pushed the loose fabric of the lingerie you were wearing up to your belly, bunching it there so you could see everything he did, and gave himself a stroke. He licked his lips and repeated the motion, a small groan escaping him as he did.

“Come on babe,” he urged. “You sitting on my lap looking so hot? I’d love to fuck you, but if you’re too worried about getting caught, I’m gonna jerk myself off. How’re you gonna put that sexy piece of clothing back on the rack if it’s got my jizz on it?”

As if to prove the seriousness of his threat, his hand moved more quickly on his shaft.

You truly enjoyed watching him pleasure himself, because it exposed him in more ways than he would probably like to know. It was different than having mutual sex with him; that was excellent too but it was easy to get overwhelmed with your own physical reactions instead of concentrating on him. But watching him masturbate, hearing the tiny sounds of self-pleasure from him, seeing his jaw get looser and looser as his core and legs got tighter as he approached climax--all of that really turned you on.

He knew that.

So his threat of coming on the front of the lingerie you were wearing was mostly hollow, because he knew that it wouldn’t take too much for you to get impatient and finally agree to his suggestion.

In only a few moments you felt flushed and sluttily desperate.

“Well?” he grinned, swiping the head of his cock with his thumb.

“Yes, okay!” you groaned.

“That’s my girl!” Beetlejuice praised. “Come up here again--this is gonna be so good--”

At his instruction, you stood up a little. He grabbed you under the legs, near your ass, to position you correctly, then licked his hand, gave his cock a swipe while he held it steady, and told you to lower yourself.

Although there’d been no traditional foreplay up to this point, you rocked down onto him. With a tiny burn of resistance that felt glorious, his cock split and entered you. Your gasp was sharp, and Beetlejuice grabbed your wrist, raised your hand and put it, palm side to your lips, to muffle yourself.

“If you’re gonna be noisy, better keep that there,” he warned, but his voice was strained too.

You nodded and kept your hand clamped to your mouth as he let your wrist go.

“Good, that’s good, baby--” he praised, taking your hips and upper thighs again.

The loose material of the lingerie hid where you were joined, but that didn’t matter. Beetlejuice demonstrated how he wanted you to move by lifting your hips and rocking himself up into you, then letting you relax before doing it again. The position kept his cock seated deep inside you. Once you understood the extent that he wanted you to move--which wasn’t much--you took over the rhythm yourself, raising yourself up minutely before settling back into the cup of his lap.

With his face planted in the side of your neck and keeping his voice low, Beetlejuice murmured dirty praise.

“Fuck, baby, just like that--your pussy feels so good! You’re so wet, you’re so hot around my cock--fuck--a little more, a little more, perfect! Ohhh fuck I love your cunt--”

You couldn’t help but squeak a little each time you dropped back down on him. His grip became even tighter but you couldn’t even think about the possibility he was going to leave bruises, or worse, ruin the fabric he was bunching in his hands. He was right; this felt so good, so debauched to be fucking here, where the walls were thin and other people were literally just feet away.

On one downward stroke you squeezed your pussy around him and he jerked back, slamming into the wall behind him, looking at you with wild eyes. You managed a smile behind your hand, but what you’d done spurred him and he planted his feet to have more leverage to shove up into you.

That pulled you off balance and you fell forward onto his chest. He didn’t stop; now that he had more freedom to move he continued to fuck you at a faster pace, with more thrusting. The position also tipped your pelvis which put more direct pressure on your clit, making pleasure spike upward into your gut. It was your turn to bury your face in his neck and shoulder, and you panted hotly onto his skin.

“Baby--oh fuck--” he groaned.

Through the panting, you grabbed a chunk of his skin to steady yourself, and that made him lose his words and keen instead.

He stilled for a second, held in place between your teeth, his hands on your hips, and his cock in your pussy. Then, with an involuntary buck and further keening wheeze, his entire body tensed as he came.

The bridge of his body pressed strongly on your clit and it couldn’t be true but you would’ve sworn you felt his cock pulse his release into you. Your pleasure almost peaked, you were just ready to topple over the edge of ecstacy, and he relaxed with a groan.

You continued to pant. Under you, Beetlejuice trembled and finally, pushed himself back upright.

“Jesus, baby,” he croaked in a dry voice.

You gave him a slight smile.

He swallowed, then his eyes widened as realization dawned on him. “Oh shit. You didn’t come, did you?”

You shook your head and dropped your eyes

“Shit. Shit!”

Now it was your turn to shush him. “Beej. Beej! Shhh! It’s okay, it’s okay, you can make it up to me later--”

“I’ll make it up to you!” he said, as if he hadn’t heard you. He took your shoulders so you had no choice but to look at him. “Promise, babe. You buy this sexy-ass outfit, and I am going to ravish you every time you wear it. It’ll get to the point that you’re gonna get wet just putting it on, like a Pavlovian response, you know? From all the times I’m gonna make you come in it--”

His voice got louder towards the end of his vow, and you hurriedly kissed him on the mouth to shut him up. He returned it eagerly, and with that plus the fact you were still sitting atop him, his cock still deep inside you, you believed him.

You let the kiss linger for a moment, then carefully stood up off of him. The wet spot he’d mentioned earlier on the front of his trousers was wide and obvious and you knew he didn’t care the least bit about it. Carefully you pulled the somehow unspoiled but slightly wrinkled babydoll lingerie over your head, slipped it over a hanger, and wiggled back into your street clothes. That was made slightly difficult as Beetlejuice kept pinching you, until you batted him away and shoo’ed him off.

He left as silently as he’d arrived, blowing you a saucy kiss as he disappeared.

You looked at the state of the mess the dressing room was still in, with discarded scraps of lingerie everywhere. Beetlejuice felt so guilty you probably should have made him straighten it up! And, if you sniffed deeply, there was the underlying odor of sex lingering in the tiny room.

Oh well.

Quickly you threw everything back together, ignored if it was hanging crooked, and put everything but the one piece on a rack outside the door.

Just as you took a step towards the checkout counter, a gravelly voice whispered close to your ear,

“Hurry up babe--I’m ready for round two!”

Beetlejuice was nowhere to be seen, but you rushed to complete your purchase and get the heck home.

fin!