#burnie answers

[think-ill-watch-it-burn]

Hi,can you do (R,S) with Beni and/or joker,thank you

Hi Anon!! Since this was asked so long ago and I didn't get a chance to clarify sooner, I'm going to assume you meant the NSFT Alphabet? If not, and you're still out there, feel free to drop me a correction in my inbox!

Also, why not both??

Beni and Joker NSFT R and S under the cut!

NSFT Alphabet: R S

Shinmon Benimaru

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I think for Beni it would be largely circumstantial. On the one hand he doesn't want to expose anyone to your antics who would prefer to be left out. On the other hand, you're wearing his patience thin and his bluff will most certainly not be called. If he makes a threat you can bet your life he intends to make good on it, and he will always outmatch your bullheadedness, even in your own game.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Damn near unlimited. Have you ever seen this man fight? He'd be more likely to get distracted than lose stamina, and I wouldn't necessarily call him easily distractible.

As far as length of a session, I think that would depend more on what his goal is and the circumstances surrounding it. Is it one of the first times you're together? Have you two been playing cat and mouse around each other all day (or longer)? Is this a quick, stolen moment, or an empassioned I missed you? I think, for the most part Beni goes for precisely how long he intends to, no more, no less.

Joker/52

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

The man is made of risks. His driving force is risk. The riskier, the better, especially once you find your rhythm. He finds glee in simply experimenting for the sake of experimentation, anything the two of you can think of and feel comfortable with, he's game for, with few exceptions.

His goal in your sex life is to find every possible way to turn you on and please you, with his own personal flair. How many times can he make you cum in one session, one day? How close can he tease you to your breaking point? How far can he push your limits physically? Training you in any capacity would probably get him going, and getting frisky public-adjacent. Somewhere that you're close to other people but can't be seen. Probably somewhere high up.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Like Beni, his stamina is near limitless. He'll likely exhaust YOU before he tires. He enjoys pushing himself to his limits until he damn near collapses, thoroughly devouring you. His endurance? Top tier. His ability to last...? Mmmm less than stellar.

But that's okay, he more than makes up for it.

He'll go for as many sessions as you're willing to most of the time. Every once in a while he likes to slow it down, focusing on the moment over how many moments he can squeeze out of you.

[angeart]

ALSO

whats the context for the burning picture? its not their nest that burned down that was sad? is that while theyre still in the permadeath world? i assume so since it mentions retribution? is this something to do with the vex arc we havent seen but obviously made things worse in new and different ways? can we appreciate how cool that art is and how impactful that scene feels even though i don't know whats going on entirely?

the burning drawing isn't one of their nest! the nest they will have at some point is built in a meadow, and it's high off the ground, built up, to cater to grian's instincts that he kept stifling for so long. (remember, he can't fly. he yearns to be high up, but can't.)

the burny burny from the art does happen while they're still in the permadeath server. it's a deliberate decision grian and scar make. they're not burning anything that belongs to them.

i will be writing a ramble about it at some point, so look out for that! :3 (if you look at the hhau masterpost, you might even spot a placeholder for it ready in the outline—)

i will say, it does happen during the vex arc. but it's not actually important, as no vexes get mentioned. it's an event solely between scar and grian, and i'm excited to tell you guys about it, but i need some time <3

aND. WAH. OKAY. i did not expect the art appreciation after all the questions 🥺🥺🥺🥺 thank youuu!! i wasn't sure how well i'd be able to draw the scene but i'm pretty happy with the results, so hearing you affirm that really helps me feel good about it <333

[twistedsamuraiadvice]

may I recommend you send off that one person with a quick Iaijutsu slice. It worked with Cosmos-dono whenever he yelled at me for a malfunctioning robot

Hello again.

Am I doing the right thing, acknowledging your presence? Although, if you aren't real you can not answer that.

Mm. I may take your advice regardless. Fool-Bright would be even more cross with me, though. Annoyance be damned, the man may simply need to be permitted.

They plan to have him stay the night this coming weekend, though I'm against it. Fool-Bright says it was his apartment first, and I've no right to tell them to shove off.

Damn.

-Simon Blackquill

[skyward-floored]

wait wait who's the antagonist?? I can't remember if you've said already sksgaksbna (Hero of Sages)

- hero-of-the-wolf

Well it’s kind of like in a link to the past, where there’s the guy trying to wake up Ganon, and then Ganon himself. I haven’t worked out the resurrection guy too much, but I’m thinking he might have a fire theme? Because Berry is all about plants, and I have a plant theme going, so having the antagonist be fiery would be neat I think.

Either way, he’s the one who kidnaps Berry’s sisters.

And there are very few people Berry hates in this world, but that guy is one of them.

[dragynkeep]

What happened to Kim Newman?

tldr was that she was mocapping & ended up fracturing her spine, as well as having further pain related injuries due to this initial one. she attempted to put in for worker's compensation to deal with her medical bills & being out of work only for rooster teeth to fuck her over, which. burn in hell rt.

[leonardalphachurch]

NOOOOOO but that whole part drives me crazy? Wash, you wanted to get Epsilon so you'd have proof about the AI crimes, but now you've got the ORIGINAL AI crime??? He's right there. Take Church as evidence! I get he wanted to "stop the Meta" (considering there is kind of a big revelation that the Meta isn't just "some guy collecting AI to be more powerful" but "the AI sort of getting absorbed together after being torn apart and used and also Maine is still in there"), and I guess Wash thought if they "erased" the AI they couldn't be used by bad people anymore... but dude. This is not coherent. What if the EMP wiped out Epsilon? Now you've got NO AI and NO proof! What if the EMP didn't even work, now Alpha and the Fragments AND the Meta all just captured! I can make up my own background reasons for this, I can imagine something up, but in the actual series? WHY

it pains me bc these scenes are SO GOOD like the dialogue the character interactions they’re SO fucking choice but a lot of the motivations here just. do not hold up to scrutiny. i try hard not to do the “character made a bad decision: this is a plot hole” but i actually think the act of the characters making these decisions is perfectly in character, it’s just that they’re reasons for making them as presented in the show don’t really make any sense? why does wash want church to go with him? why does church want to go with him?? like. you can come up with satisfying answers on your own bc, like i said, the choices themselves do make sense! but the answers the show provides. at the very least to me are not very satisfying or coherent. and i really don’t think that was on purpose, as some kind of like. up to interpretation thing. i think it’s just kind of clunky writing.

[sunyandmony]

Hello! How are you? I hope you’re okay!

Anyways I was wondering about that Veteran Sun Drabble you were talking about writing? Is it a work in progress? I am by no means rushing you or pressuring you into anything, I was just curious.

Anyways have a great day!

-Q

Welp, I have been pushing it a bit back because of a few recent events. But if I start it for real and not just in my brain.... I may or may not finish it till next week? Don't count on me, I am always tired.

[curiosity-killed]

Hello! I got curious about the alcohol poll you posted and the other anons comment about the burn being unpleasant. For me the burn is a central part of the pleasure of drinking. For me a good glass of whiskey, vodka or cognac is good taste with a distinct burn but without an overwhelming taste of etanol. Do you really not enjoy the burn in the slightest?

i think i am maybe the worst person to answer this XD

I think that "burn" flavor/sensation is like most strong flavors in that they tend to be divisive and have people who love them and who hate them and a quiet spread of people somewhere in the middle. Like some people are down with drinking everclear straight and some people won't touch anything that's more than 0.1% alcohol by volume and then a lot of people fall somewhere in between.

also incidentally, this is where my comment about the different flavors of alcohol comes out: I don't like the burn of whiskey or gin but I do like it in tequila + mezcal ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ and then you add in additional ingredients and it becomes a matter of balance

[ashey-did-owt-wrong]

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person? (*´ω`*)

Am i glad you asked! Maybe not? Aaa i cant decide now why

Ive two cats and three dogs ans they are the cutest and best little puppies and kittens (dogs are 4,4,5 and cats 8,8 y/o but still theyre babies in my eyes) i cant choose between them.

I guess im a dog person because they give me meaning and purpose and thats so important, but i love how my cats are independent - despite theyre so annoying sometimes. Example if i dont let my cat into my room, sometines she'll do her best to knock over the guitar case just outside.

Ill have some pictures some point later if anyones interested?

[avernusfuries]

@spiderwarden asked: Stares at longingly from across the camp. unprompted love.

As Gale had often said, there was no rest for the wicked. This evening would be no exception, as they had spent the better part of three days having trudged through muck and mire and opted for cold food things because no one could be bothered to cook. That had suited Karlach fine, for she had also scoffed down her bread, cheese and other little picky bits with reckless abandon and had taken herself off to bed. The nights had been surprisingly mild, but with the bitter and chilly wind causing more than a few teeth to chatter, she'd set off to secure some wood. In hindsight, that might've been a terrible idea, for the tiefling had soon realised her connundrum and returned to strongarm Lae'zel into helping carry it back.

She had taken the request with little complaint, though she had made a comment about the silliness of her having taken on the work alone. Karlach had laughed good-naturedly at it at the time. It took a further twenty minutes before they had returned. The tiefling could chop it, and Lae'zel moved to pile up the wood in question into a neat little pile, where the others moved to get the fire itself started.

She knew that Minthara watched her, sometimes. Karlach felt as though she had a sense for it, how the hair on the nape of her neck would stand on end. And she would always lift her head, meet the drow's eye and smile at her. She was not the quiet sort, Minthara. They had learned very quickly that she possessed a dry sort of wit that was disarming, but more often than not, hilarious. Now was not one of those funny looks where she would pull a face and look away. When Karlach met her eye now, her expression was tender almost.

Against her better judgement, Karlach waved at her. Awkwardly. "You gonna stare, or are you gonna come join me? Fire's almost done, and dinner'll be on soon."

[hayleythesugarbowl]

you should do a spencer agnew x reader but reader is the new smosh games PA and she has a slow burn / flirty relationship with spencer :)))

Cool Shoes || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist • part 2  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you join smosh as the newest addition to the games crew, you are immediately attracted to spencer. but will your little crush turn into something more?

word count: 3.7k

warnings: mild language

a/n: thank you so much for this request ml!! i love writing for spencer sm and honestly i kinda fell in love w him a little bit while writing this so ty 🤭 this isn’t superrr slow burny (i got to excited and eager lol oops) but there’s plenty of flirting and i hope you enjoy this!! 🎀

edit!! i have a part two now, so if you enjoy this fic go check that out 💋

<— some more spencer fics • next part —>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “And this concludes your official tour of Smosh,” Shayne said, throwing his arms wide. “Any questions?”

     “Yes,” you answered, “Is that my ring?”

     “(Y/n),” Shayne whined as he slipped the ring that was definitely yours into his pocket quickly, “That’s what you got out of my tour?”

     “You’re right, I’m sorry Oh Wise Guide,” you teased, “You know I wouldn’t be here without you. Or if I was, I’d be really lost.”

     You had just officially begun your job at Smosh that morning. Shayne had immediately started showing you around and you really were grateful.

     You’d known Shayne for years and he was the one that suggested you try and get a job with Smosh when you’d moved to LA a few months ago. 

     You’d gotten a job as the Smosh Games PA and you couldn’t wait to get started. You already knew a lot of the people who worked there—either because you’d met them through Shayne outside of Smosh or from the multiple times you’d visited the studio before you’d applied for the job.

     Plus, this was the first job you’d had where you actually felt like you’d be doing something you enjoyed. 

     “Who’s lost?” You heard a voice from behind you and you spun around quickly.

     “Oh, (Y/n), this is Spencer, the director of our games channel,” Shayne introduced you to the man who had spoke. “Spencer, this is (Y/n), the new games PA.”

     You knew you should’ve said something to him along the lines of ‘hi, nice to meet you. i’m (y/n). i look forward to working with you’ but all that came out was “Cool shoes.”

    You didn't know why that was what your mind had landed on—he was wearing basic gray sneakers—but you were so caught off guard by how attractive he was that you’d kinda choked.

     Because damn. He had the most gorgeous eyes you’d ever seen on a person before. 

     Spencer smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Either you’re just trying to kiss ass already or you’ve got really bad taste in shoes because these babies are mid at best.”

     You smiled, looking down at your own shoes. “Definitely the second option—these are someone’s grandma’s shoes. Seriously, I scavenged them from my Nanna’s closet.”

     This got you a laugh from Spencer and you continued, “Unless I should be kissing ass?”

     “Nah,” Spencer waved the thought away, “most of your job’s just gonna consist of bringing me Mountain Dew. So unless you can screw that up…”

     “He’s not serious, is he?” You turned around to ask Shayne. “Because you said this wasn’t gonna be like my last job.”

     “You slung Mountain Dew at your last job?” Spencer asked. 

     You shook your head. “Just had a lousy boss who took the assistant part of my job a little too far. But I appreciate your concern for my employment history,” you teased. 

     You were surprised at how easy it was to talk to Spencer. Usually you wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to joke around with someone you just met—let alone your new boss. Your new boss who you had almost undressed with your eyes upon first sight. 

     “Settle down, I was just gonna ask if you had any cans left over,” Spencer winked.

     “Spencer’s kind of addicted to Mountain Dew Kickstart,” Shayne piped in. “And by kind of—”

     “He means I’ve already had four today,” Spencer finished.

     You made a face, “It’s 9:00am.”

     “Ooh,” Spencer winced dramatically, “Sorry, but I don’t think our values align. Go ahead and bring in the next one, Shayne.  (Y/n), it was nice meeting you—good luck with the shoes thing.”

     Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow, “You already have another person lined up for my job?”

     Spencer leaned towards you and you felt your pulse pick up ever-so-slightly. “Shayne doesn’t know it yet, but it’s actually just him,” he whispered loudly.

     “Well then I may have to quit, just to see how this goes,” you said, turning to Shayne who crossed his arms.

     “Not when I was just starting to like you,” Spencer pouted and you felt your cheeks warm.

     “I was just starting to think you’re not so bad yourself,” you shot back.

     “Woah, I just meant ‘cause you have a secret stash of Mountain Dew.”

     “And I meant because you have cool shoes,” you teased.

     “Well, now that we’ve got that settled,” Spencer smiled, “I expect to see you here by 5:00am sharp tomorrow morning.”

     “Seriously?” Your job description hadn’t said anything about getting to work when it was still dark out!

     Spencer shrugged. “I guess I can give you a few more hours. Y’know, so you can shop for some decent footwear beforehand. See ya later, grandma shoes.”

      He began to walk backwards and you said a quick ‘it was nice to meet you’ before he turned around and walked back the way he came.

     You couldn’t stop the smile that was forming on your face. You could already tell this was going to turn out to be a great job. You couldn’t wait to get to work tomorrow. And you couldn’t pretend part of that wasn’t because you wanted to see Spencer again.   

     And not just because that’s what your eyes wanted. You had enjoyed talking with him. You felt like you’d really hit it off. You felt like you two could really become good friends and coworkers. 

     You turned to Shayne, aware that you were probably still smiling like an idiot. 

     “What?” He fixed you with a quizzical look.

     “Nothing, I’m just excited to start working here,” you said.

     Shayne raised an eyebrow.

     “And,” You added, reluctantly, and only because you knew Shayne would find out  eventually, “you didn’t tell me my boss was hot.”

     Now Shayne raised both eyebrows, “Spencer?”

     “What?”

     “Nothing,” he said, “I mean, he’s single, so go for it if you want. He seemed like he really liked you and—”

     “No,” you cut him off, “Definitely not. He’s my boss. I don’t want to ‘go for’ anything other than a good, friendly, professional relationship.”

     “Okay,” Shayne nodded. 

      You nodded back and he was silent for a moment before smiling, 

     “‘Course that’s what I said about Courtney…”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

You took a sip of your coffee from the mug you were holding as you made your way down the hall and towards your office.

     You’d been working at Smosh for approximately seventeen days and you had finally stopped getting lost throughout the building on a daily basis.

     Once Spencer had showed you the ropes and made sure you knew what you were doing, you had joined right in to the well oiled machine that was Smosh.

     Unfortunately, your sense of directions wasn’t as good as your work ethic and so it had taken extra time for you to remember where everything was. Much to Shayne’s amusement.

     You were deep in thought as you rounded the corner and you didn’t see the person right in front of you.

     You ran straight into Spencer and as you collided with him, your coffee drink spilled all down your front as you were knocked to the floor. You quickly picked yourself up off the ground. 

     “I am so sorry,” you rushed, “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

     “It’s all good,” Spencer said, standing up, “I am officially awake now, so I guess I owe you one.”

     You laughed with him but you felt your face getting hot in embarrassment. You looked down at your blouse and found it more brown than it was purple from the coffee. You tried in vain to wipe it off.

     “Damn, I hope that wasn’t a family heirloom too,” Spencer pointed to your shirt, “Here, take my hoodie.”

     He started to pull the sweatshirt over his head as you protested, “No, it’s ok—I’ll be fine. It’s not that bad—it’s kind of a look.”

     “Really, I insist,” Spencer said, handing you his hoodie. “Gives me a chance to show off my anime t-shirt anyway.”

     You took the sweatshirt from him, mumbling your thanks and pulling it over your head.

      Spencer’s scent engulfed you as you put on his warm hoodie and you tried not to get distracted by the way his cologne made you a little bit dizzy. 

      Over the last several days, as you’d been adjusting to your new job, you’d almost forgotten your tiny crush on Spencer. 

     Almost. 

     You’d been so focused on work that you hadn’t really had time to stop and think about your feelings towards your boss. 

     You really enjoyed working with him and he was quickly becoming your favorite person at Smosh—other than Shayne, of course. You sent a silent apology to him in your head.

      And then there were the moments when Spencer would laugh at one of your jokes or compliment you on a task you did or smile shyly at you up through his lashes and you felt all warm inside.

     Like right now—him giving you his hoodie. That brought you out of your reverie as you remembered where you were. Standing in front of the man you were currently lost in thought about.

     “Right, well, I better get back to—” You gestured in front of you, trailing off as you had honestly forgot what exactly you were headed to your office for. 

     “Of course, I wouldn’t want to keep you from—” He gestured in the direction you had, as if the nothing that you had indicated was what needed your attention. 

     You rolled your eyes at him amicably before heading in the direction you had been going. 

     After a quick stop in your office—you hadn’t found what you apparently had been looking for in there. And if while you were in the office by yourself you pulled up the collar of the sweater to your nose for a second or seven, who was there to see you?—you set off for the break room. 

     You saw Shayne sitting at a table with some other cast and crew members and you walked over towards him, plopping down across from him and Erin, an associate producer for Smosh.

     You had gotten to know her a bit throughout these past couple weeks and already felt like you had been friends for months.

     “Hey you,” Shayne greeted, “What’s up?”

     You shrugged. “Oh, you know, same old same old. What’s new with you?”

     “Well, we filmed a TNTL this morning, and I had this new idea for a character. So basically—”

     “(Y/n), is that Spencer’s sweatshirt?” Erin interrupted, her eyes fixed on your top. 

     “Oh, um, yeah,” you told her.

    At the same time Shayne asked, “How do you even know what Spencer wore to work today?” 

     “I’m a woman, we know these things,” Erin paused. “Come on, he wears that thing four times a week, like it’s hard.”

     She turned her gaze back to you. 

     You cleared your throat. “But, yeah, anyways, I spilled coffee on my blouse so he gave me this.”

     Erin raised an eyebrow, “Did he now?”

     “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked her, trying your hardest not to blush. 

     “No reason,” she leaned back, acting casual, “It’s just Dude 101, a guy doesn’t give a girl his hoodie unless he likes her.”

     You scoffed, “That’s crazy, Erin. He was just being nice.”

     This you felt sure about. Whatever your feelings were towards Spencer, you were sure he only though of you as his coworker. 

     Right?

     “Well, it’s obvious you like him,” Erin added, as if that was an absolute fact.

     “What?” You spit out, probably faster and louder than was necessary or convincing.   

     You glanced at Shayne and he raised his arms as if to say, Don’t look at me, my lips have been sealed!

     “I’ve seen the way you act around him, (Y/n). And the way he acts around you.” 

     Was it that obvious that you had a little, tiny crush on Spencer? I mean, you guys got along really well. And we’re constantly making each other laugh. But that just meant you were friends, right? He definitely didn’t act any different around you than he did with anyone else at Smosh, did he? 

     Granted, you hadn’t even been working here three weeks yet and you weren’t one hundred percent sure how he acted around everyone else. But you had no reason to believe it was any different than with you!

     “You’re crazy,” you told Erin.

     “So you deny, it?” She folded her hands on the table in front of her, “You don’t have feelings for Spencer?”

     “Well,” you started. You didn’t want to lie to her, not when you were just starting a friendship. You sighed, lowering your voice so only Erin and Shayne could hear you, “I might have some feelings for—”

     “Spencer!” Shayne said loudly and awkwardly, as if to warn you of his sudden presence behind you.

     You spun around probably too quickly and found yourself looking up at him. 

     “Hi, Spencer,” you said, sincerely hoping he hadn’t overheard any of the previous conversation.

     “Hey (Y/n), long time no see,” he smiled, putting his hands in his pockets. “So, I was wondering, since we’ve got that big project coming up next Wednesday, do you think you’d be able to meet me outside of work to get a head start on it? We could go to a coffee shop or my place or something?”

     He almost looked…nervous asking you to work on a project outside of normal work hours. Probably just figuring you’d decline at sacrificing your free hours.

     You watched as Erin raised an eyebrow and you promptly ignored her. 

     “Yeah sure,” you said, “Sounds like a plan.”

     “Really?” He sounded relieved, “Ok awesome, I’ll text you some dates.”

     “Perfect,” you said, “And it’ll give me a chance to give you back this hoodie once I have other clothes to change into.”

     “Keep it,” Spencer shrugged, looking down “It looks way better on you that it ever did on me anyways.”

     You brushed your hair behind your ears. “I might take you up on that offer.”

     “‘Course you will have to give me something in return,” he said, “I mean, fair’s fair, man.”

     “Naturally,” you looked down at your body to find something suitable, your eyes landing on the scrunchie at your wrist. 

     You handed it to him and he took your offering, slipping the scrunchie into his wrist. 

     “Classy,” he nodded, holding his arm out at different angles to look at it.

     “Very,” you agreed, giggling. 

     You both fell silent and you looked back down at the table. Shayne said something to Spencer and they began a conversation—the chosen, something something—and you were silent until Spencer left the table, laughing at something Shayne had said.  

     Immediately after he exited the room, Erin pounced.

     “Okay what the hell was that?” She asked.

     “What was what?”

     Erin put on a high voice and then a low voice and back again, mimicking your conversation “Oh, hi, Spencer. Hi, (Y/n). Wanna come to my place? Oh, I’d love to. You look so sexy. No you look sexy. Wanna exchange wardrobes?” 

     “Okay, that’s not how any of that went,” you said, but you couldn’t help yourself from smiling.

     “That’s what it sounded like from over here,” Shayne added. “He invited you to his house, man. And he’s gonna text you?”

     You’d exchanged numbers right after you began your job, but you hadn’t actually had many text conversations. You didn’t really think it was a big deal.

     “Yeah, we’ve texted before,” you said, “But don’t think it means anything, so far he’s mostly just sent me memes.”

     “What kind of memes?” Shayne asked, as though this was severely important. 

     “Cat, SpongeBob, the occasional wombat.”

     “Trust me,” he said, “that means something. I’m a psychologist, so I kinda know these things.”                                

“Havingapsychologydegreeisn’tthesameasbeingapsychologist,” Erin coughed into her hand.  

     “You know what—” Shayne started, turning to Erin.

     “Guys,” you interrupted.

     “Right,” Erin agreed, “not the time. What I’m trying to say is, that was flirting Miss (Y/n), whether you like it or not.”

     Had you and Spencer been flirting? You weren’t exactly an expert on the subject, so maybe Erin was right. A part of you definitely hoped that was the case. 

     “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Amanda leaned in from the table next to yours, “But I also think there was definitely flirting going on.”

      You, Shayne, and Erin all turned to look at her.

      “Come on people, you know I like kissing scenes, why should this come as a shock?” She threw up her hands and you laughed.

       “Who’s kissing?” You hadn’t seen Courtney enter the room, but now she came and sat down next to her husband and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

       “We were just talking about how it’s just a matter of time before Spencer and (Y/n) are totally gonna ba—”

      “Erin!” You cut her off, definitely blushing now as Courtney giggled.

      “So you and Spencer, huh?” She asked, smiling. 

      “That’s what these two seem to think,” you gestured to your friends.

     “Not think,” Erin said.

     “We know,” Shayne finished.

     “Fine,” you relented a bit, “I do like him, a little. Well, okay a lot. I guess I like him a lot. He’s smart and sweet and funny and charming and so cute and has great cologne, apparently,” you gestured to the hoodie. You took a deep breath. “And I really really like him.”

     You realized as you said it, that it was true. You’d spent the past couple of weeks trying to convince yourself that you only thought of Spencer as a friend and a coworker. But you realized, the more you talked to your friends, that you really did have feelings for him. That were more than friendly or coworker-ly. 

     Maybe this was something that you really did want. And that could maybe happen. You had felt the connection between you and Spencer, so it was possible he might feel the same way about you.

     Unless you were reading this all wrong and—Oh God, what if you told him how you felt and he rejected you and then you had to work side by side with him in awkwardness forever? 

     “But so what? It’s not as if he feels the same way. I don’t want to make things weird between us,” you finished.

     “Trust me, my guy, he likes you,” Courtney contributed. “I’m married to a psychologist, I know these things.”

     “See!” Shayne crossed his arms triumphantly and Erin rolled her eyes. 

     “Stilldoesn’tcount,” she cough-spoke. 

     “And I’m taking this back!” You said, noticing the ring on Shayne’s middle finger and reaching over to grab it, once and for all. 

     “Anyways,” Courtney finished, “I say tell him how you feel, see where this goes.”

     “I concur,” Shayne said and his wife raised an eyebrow at him. “What? I’ve always wanted to say that!”

     “She’s right,” Erin said, “and by the end of the week you’ll be ban—”

     “Erin!” 

     She merely smirked as she picked up her soda drink and took a sip. 

     “So I just go up and ask Spencer out?” You messed with the drawstrings of your sweatshirt. You were encouraged by your friends’ words, and you really wanted to go up and just do it, but you felt doubt creeping in. 

     “What if I mess up what I’m trying to say?  Or fall on my face walking up to him? Or worse, what if he says no?”

     “He wouldn’t.” You heard his voice first. You looked up and found him walking slowly through the doorway as he kept speaking. “Say no, I mean. If I know him as well as I think I do—and I pride myself on knowing him pretty damn well—then he’d say yes.”        

     He was in front of you now. “Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.”

     You tried to catch your breath as you processed what was happening. “Oh yeah? What else would he say?”

     “Well, uh, he’d probably that he’s attracted to you. And that he wanted to ask you out the moment he met you and is so glad you did it first because now he doesn’t have to continue his poor, pathetic attempts at making a move,” he said, placing a hand in the back of his neck.

     You stood up, coming to stand right in front of Spencer. “When did you come back?” 

     You’d thought he’d walked away a few minutes ago after your conversation had ended. 

     “Never left,” he said, “Bent down to tie my shoe, and then I heard way too many nice things about myself to leave.”

     You giggled, shoving his shoulder. “So humble.”

     “Hey, when you hear someone professing their love for you…” Spencer shrugged. 

     “Ok, that’s not what was happening,” you crossed your arms.

     “I beg to differ,” Erin piped in.

     “Not what it sounded like from our side of the table,” added Shayne. 

     You had forgotten both of them were there. You’d been so caught up in what was happening with Spencer, you’d forgotten anyone was there, actually.

     But as you looked around, you found that everyone currently occupying the break room was stopped to watch the two of you. 

     Angela whooped from a few tables over. 

     “Well since it’s unanimous, apparently,” you joked, “What do you say? Will you go out with me.”

     “I most certainly will,” Spencer said, smiling at you.

     You reached out and took his hand, linking it with yours. He looked at you for a moment before leaning in and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

     You placed your hand where his lips had touched yours. You couldn’t believe this was happening. And you couldn’t wait to see where this went—you and Spencer, you thought. You felt giddy with excitement.

     “Well, I’ll see ya later then,” Spencer said, beginning to walk backwards. “and I already have an idea for our first official date.”

     “And what’s that?”

     “I’m gonna take you to a Payless ShoeSource.”

     “I thought you liked my grandma shoes,” you crossed your arms.

     “(Y/n), I like everything about you,” he said, “but those things have to to go.”      

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed this one!! have a lovely week all my spencer girlies 🤭🩰

<— some more spencer fics • next part —>

[think-ill-watch-it-burn]

Can you please make 17 of the smut dialogue prompts with Beni? Thank you ❣❣

Hi Anon!! So, this didn't turn out quite as raunchy as I'd intended but I hope you still like it!

Shinmon Benimaru

#50 NSFT Dialogue Prompts: #17. “Now kiss me properly.”

You stood, leaned against the kitchen counter, wiping sweat from your face with one hand and digging halfmoons into the softer underside with the other. Feeling like you're stood in the unnaturally calm eye of a tornado, you heave a sigh and cherish the opportunity to catch your breath.

"There you are," Beni calls as he sweeps into the room. You grunt in tired acknowledgement. "What's wrong with you?"

Struggling to find the words to start, you gesture to the mess strewn from one end of the guard house to the other. "Everything," you mutter, "look at... just, everything."

Beni tilts his head as he takes in the state of you, then the room, a quiet grunt of agreement. "Yeah. Looks pretty bad. You want some help?"

"Can't you just set it all on fire? We can rebuild."

Beni scoffs and smirks. "Quit complaining, it'll only take a little bit. Come on."

You sigh. "If you insist."

Beni chuckles and slides past you, hand sliding across your waist, reaching for a kiss as he passes. You turn your head just enough for a barely-there peck and move to go the other way when Beni's hand on your waist holds you in place.

"What was that?"

"What?" You ask, hearing the sharp cut of you own tone. "We'll have time for that once all this is cleaned."

Beni grunts, lip curled, clearly displeased, but moves on without protest.

20 minutes later and the two of you had made quick work of the kitchen and dining room, agreeing to tackle the rest of the mess after dinner that evening.

As you're washing up two hands grasp your waist, travling slowly around and down your hips, a warm chest pressed against your back.

"What's this?" you tease.

Without a sound Beni turns you around, your hands dripping rivulets of water down his robe as you grip his shoulders. He moves to kiss you but stops short, lips barely brushing yours enough to tickle. You try to chase them but he pulls away, smirk curling at the corners, teasing you again only to pull away.

"You know that kiss was unacceptable," he scolds. You scoff and lean away, grinning, but with a quick hand between your shoulder blades he pulls and pins your chest to his, head turned to nuzzle your neck. A series of warm, soft kisses up to the corners of your lips and another teasing brush of those warm lips against yours, fingers brushing past your waistband to press against you through panties. A breathy chuckle when he finds them damp.

His grin widens as he presses slow, firm circles, middle finger raised just enough to brush your clit. Your breath hitches when he licks his lips.

"Now," he commands quietly, eyes dropping to your open mouth and back, his breath a warm breeze over your tingling lips, "kiss me properly."

He allows you to close the gap, drawing each lip in for a gentle suckle and quick swipe of his tongue and simultaneously slipping his fingers under your panties and between your lips, stroking your clit directly. Your knees buckle but he catches you, lifting you onto the counter with one arm. A little readjusting and he's nestled between your legs, his receding pants catching on his spread thighs, breathless as he mutters a clipped, "good girl."

(Since this post keeps fucking with me in my drafts looking like it's disappeared, I'mma just clench the ol buttcheeks and post it. I really hope it came out okay!!)

[angeart]

hello asks part 3 here (i hope you dont mind i find it easier to organize my thoughts and what i want to say like this)

hhhhhhh ari au art

that art is awesome i love the lighting in the first one and the framing of the last one is so interesting it really shows just how invasive the press and the outside world all is i also love the posing of the second one and its just. they cant get away from it. from the pressure and the anxiety and the news and all those opinions

each step in the art is a deterioration of grians situation in that au idk i think its interesting that these are the pics you were inspired to make theyre so good i love your art

and yeah it is darker in some ways than hhau, because it deals so heavily with active suicidal impulses and its a different type of dark. hhau is so focused on the fear and desperation and trying to escape, where as the ari au feels like pressure bearing down on grian and a lack of way out.

its just........... hard

grians stuck in a really hard place and i get why she cant find a way out for herself because it would likely require starting over completely and even that might not get them away from the public and that would require him to fully give up on something that brought him so much joy even if it also brought pain and anxiety.

anyway my most coherent expression of my thoughts and feelings about ari au consists of this:

qoiuwheajishuiawfdosugyhiewjorwsdfgyuhijoqwepdghusjoipahpiuwpajsd

-burny anon

i do find it easier too when the topics are split across asks so this is good!

YAY ARI AU! wahhh thank u for liking the art 🥺❤️

i picked those scenes because ben suggested i draw a sort of 'then' vs 'now' comparison, and i thought of doing it from the perspective of photos the press could get. i have one more sketch tucked away that is a private moment of scar and grian that i might draw one day. we'll see.

and yeah. yeah, they absolutely cannot get away from it, from the scrutiny, the pressure, the sense of privacy absolutely crumbling into something non-existent. together with the sense of self outside of all of these expectations and being constantly observed, every action or word an opportunity to be misinterpreted without anyone asking them what the truth is. (they don't have a voice here; they're just there to provide drama and entertainment. to be consumed. their consent in this does not matter.)

the press and the stalkers and (some of) the fans don't care about grian as a person. grian—ari—is an idea, an idol. they craft her to be perfect in their eyes (something nobody can live up to and remain seen as a human being), only to decide they then need to tear down and decimate that perfection.

it's just so harrowing and horrible.

you know, grian started with a dream. he just wanted to sing and have fun and be seen. (not like this. not like this.)

now some people might sneer and point, saying he's got exactly what he wanted: she is seen. she will never not be seen again.

i think ari au is so dark not only because of the topics, but also because it feels so real? hhau has hybrids and different world, wings and magic and whatnot. but this? this has none of that. this is set into a real world, and they're just normal human beings, struggling. and there's no easy solution or a way out.

love your thoughts on this au hehe <3

[twistedsamuraiadvice]

🎀 list 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals or followers. I mean, if you want to.

Oh! Thank you for asking reader!

I think Prosecutor Blackquill already asked a bunch of people this, but here's my list!

My Nana's baking, it's so good!

Spending time with my friends at the precinct

Movie night with Prosecutor Blackquill

Taking Rover for walks, I think it's at least as good for me as it is for him!

Planning my next date night with Burnie...not that it's serious! It's not! We've just been on two or three so far..

And that's my list! Thank you!

In Justice We Trust!

-Bobby Fulbright

[ibbythebee]

Hospital Wing Hermits

gif credit: @handknit on wattpad

pairing: Neville Longbottom x year younger!reader

summary: From Neville's second year at Hogwarts to his last, his most memorable times with you have been spent in the hospital wing.

genre: fluffiness all round, slight angst at the end... but only a little, slow-burny

warnings: this fic is so soft that you will potentially combust, slight swearing, SO MUCH hand holding, the reader is an oblivious goofball until she's not, kissing, talks about illnesses and injuries, blood and boogers

words: 6k

masterlist

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Neville's 2nd Year

Clutching onto Madame Pomfrey is nothing new to Neville. In the middle of the night, however, is a different story. The Nurse coos whenever the boy makes the slightest sound of pain, holding him up as not to put anymore pressure on his right foot.

"We're just about there, dear. Come on, just a few more steps..."

Leading him to the middle of the hospital wing's room, she then guides him onto an untouched bed, and immediately slides a pillow underneath his ankle. A spot of light on the opposite side of the room does not go unnoticed to either the woman or boy as soon as they had entered the room.

Neville rubs his eyes, squinting at the strange glowing mound of sheets. He watches as, with a sigh, Madame Pomfrey marches to the other preoccupied bed and pulls over the white covers to reveal you, a sheepish looking girl.

Under the light of your wand, your face looks puffy, lips and nose chapped, hair amuck. You cough into your elbow and smile a toothy innocent smile, batting your big eyes at the woman, silently pleading your innocence.

Pomfrey, however, does not play games. "Turn off that incessant light, Miss L/N. Do you realise what time it is?"

Your lips shape into a pout, voice stuffy as you answer. "But Madame Pomfrey, it's so boring here. I'm bored."

"No, you should be asleep. Turn that off right now. I don't want to have to send another owl to your mother about you refusing medical help."

"Just a few more minutes please? I'll finish the page I'm reading."

"Absolutely not. It's basic manners and respect for your fellow peer." She motions to Neville, and you finally turn to him.

Despite the fatigue in your features, your eyes seem to glow, piercing through the dark room. Perhaps it's just his lack of sleep or absence of light, but there is something drawing him to you and he fails to look away. Nothing comes out of his mouth even though he knows he's probably supposed to greet you, but neither do you.

A second longer you stare at your new roommate and in eventual defeat, you pout. The light from your wand fades, as you mumble 'nox' under your breath and get comfortable under the blankets.

Satisfied, Madame Pomfrey clears the rubbish bin underneath your bed and turns back to Neville handing him a small flask of some sort of healing potion.

"All right. Off to bed now both of you. Good night, dears."

You both mutter a 'goodnight', closing your eyes, gingerly pulling the covers up to your chins.

It stays mostly quiet in the room, apart from the Nurse's shuffling. Though as time passes, shoes click and click away, and then the door creaks shut.

"Psst!"

Neville stirs.

"Hey, psst!"

"Huh?" Is all Neville can manage, lifting his head with a groggy squint.

"What happened to you?" You ask in a loud whisper and sniffle. Sitting straight, and staring right at him. Your eyes really are big, inquisitive.

"Well I... twisted my ankle," he finally says.

"How?"

"I... I'd rather not say. It's embarrassing, really."

"I won't tell anyone," you say as-a-matter-of-factly. "You can hex me if I do."

He looks at you through narrow eyes again and this time it's your teeth that glow. As you show no interest in falling asleep, Neville's neck admits defeat and his head crashes back down onto the pillow. "Can we just please go to sleep?"

"I caught a cold... or maybe a fever. Runny nose—" you sniff, wiping your face with your pajama sleeve "—wet cough, high temperature. My mum says I have a weak immune system."

"Well, that's not very good, is it?" He comments half-heartedly to the ceiling.

"No, it isn't."

Silence. For a moment, he believes that you've finally surrendered yourself.

"So how'd you twist your ankle in the middle of the night?"

Never mind.

"You don't seem like a rule-breaker," you say.

He carefully shuffles up to sit and sighs. Where on earth did you get your energy from? He hadn't met such a talkative first year before.

Neville takes a moment to answer, debating on whether or not you're harmless enough for him to be vulnerable. "I had a nightmare, okay? I fell off my bed and... landed badly."

"Well, that's not very good, is it?" You echo.

"No, it isn't."

Silence once again ensues, but this time Neville's ready for your chatterbox mouth.

"What's your name? I'm..." You suddenly stop and he nearly laughs when your silhouette jerks and you sneeze. It's loud, like his Gran.

"Nice to meet you, Achoo." He chuckles, holding a hand over his mouth.

You sniff again, face hot in a new wave of humiliation, and this time you wipe your face with more aggression. "Hey, that's not funny! My name is — A-ACHHHOO!"

"Isn't that what I just said?" He can't help but laugh again. Relishing in the groan you emit and how furiously you blow your nose.

With a poke of your tongue, you retort. "Whatever, Mr... mm... Fall-out-of-bed...n-nightmare-broken-ankle-boy."

"Wow, that's really fantastic, Achoo." He slides back down into his bed, closing his eyes with content and tries to hold in his giggles as you continue with determination to clear up your mistake.

Initially, Neville thought he wouldn't even be able to get in a nap, but now with the understanding that you bark more than you bite, he creates a silly image of you in the form of a puppy. As your voice rings in the background, the puppy image barks with you, and he feels his eyes grow heavy, falling into a content and nightmare-less sleep.

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Neville’s 4th Year

Ever since sleeping the night in the hospital wing, Neville knew he'd be seeing more of you. It was surprising to him that he hadn't noticed you before that night, especially seeing as you were such a social butterfly. And despite being in the year below, he'd always manage to catch your eyes in the Great Hall. And in the courtyard. And in the halls. And through a classroom window. You were everywhere and anywhere. And when you weren't, you were in bed in the hospital wing.

Just like you are now. The fourteen-year-old hadn't seen you for the past few weeks after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, and needless to say, he had to see you.

And such a perfect opportunity had arose today, albeit a painful one, but an opportunity none the less.

Neville opens the door to the wing as gently as possible as not to wake you, however knowing you, you probably already were.

Entering the room, he clutches his sore hand to his ribs and cranes his neck to spot the nurse. Instead he finds your lying form under a mountain of blankets.

You stir, and Neville curses at his shoes for making so much noise. Sure, his intention of coming here was to see you, but he’d seldom seen you in such a peaceful state and didn’t want to ruin that for you.

“Neville?” He hears you say and then you’re facing him.

He smiles down at you, with a voice just as soft as silk. "Hey, Achoo. Didn't mean to wake you. How you feeling?”

“I’m feeling alright. Kinda headache-y, but fine. Ugh, what time is it?” You rub your eyes and stretch as you sit up.

The messiness of your bed-hair is incredibly endearing and the curve in Neville’s lips only grow at the sight.

“It’s third period.”

“Then… what are you doing here? Are you hurt?”

You’re suddenly on your feet, eyes round and wide, taking in the scene of the tall boy. He flinches, attempting to hide his hand in his robe sleeve.

You snatch his hand, bringing it close to your face. It’s a burn. All over the back of his palm. "Bloody hell— Where's Madame Pomfrey?"

"I was about to ask you the same question." A small chuckle falls from his lips as you examine him. Somehow, in some miracle he watches your big eyes grow larger as you twist his hand, move his long fingers to get as much information about his wound.

He feels like he’s going crazy, your touch is a new kind of burn on his skin. It doesn’t sting, but it is hot. And you don’t even know you’re causing it.

"She's always gone when you actually need her,” you huff.

"It's not as bad as it looks, really. Just hurts a little when I move it."

"What about when I...?" You drift off, as you slide a delicate thumb over his beet-red knuckles.

The tips of his ears turn the same shade of red. "Stings."

With no further words, he lets you pull him to one corner of the hospital wing, searching for a particular ointment on the many shelves of medical supplies. You don't let go of his hand, and he doesn't dare pull away.

"Let me guess how it happened—" you say, grabbing a round jar of blue gel to read the label.

"Seamus." You both state and then share a laugh.

Placing the jar back, you continue your search and Neville fills the comfortable silence. "It's Potions class. For once I thought I was doing pretty decent and then next thing I know, Seamus' cauldron blows up next to me and of course I get the damage."

His hand is held up to your face again and he watches as you grab a new jar with a less solid looking gel, creamy in colour.

"I suppose it's a good way for me to get out of the rest of the class," he shrugs.

"And get away from Snape," you quip and earn a chuckle from him. There was a time in Neville’s third year, when you had come to learn about his amusing boggart. He’d snuck into the hospital wing, claiming he had a nasty headache and ended up staying the night, neither of you getting a wink of sleep. It had also been revealed that the thing you were most frightened of was giants.

“Sit down,” your motioning to the mattress behind him.

He does so without question, still attached to you by your pinkie, making himself comfortable on the edge of a neatly tucked bed. He follows your every action as you place the ointment jar beside his thigh and open the lid. You scoop a teaspoon amount with your fingers and lifted his burnt hand again.

Before the cream touches his burn, you begin to tell him about what illness you've caught today and he barely feels the sting of the medicine. There's no better spell or potion to kill pain than your voice, that much was evident even back when he first met you.

Concentration laces your features and unbeknownst to you, your hips hit the edge of the mattress, unaware to the fact that Neville's knees are on either side of you.

The sight of you between him for some reason makes it difficult for him to swallow. The urge to trap you with his legs increases by the second. "Hey, Y/N?"

You wipe off excess ointment on your pajama top and turn your attention to him. He rarely called you by your first name. Something's up.

"Yeah?"

"Well, the erm... You know in a week or so?"

"Mhm?"

There's a pause as he searches your eyes for confidence, then he finally announces. "Would you say you're a good dancer?"

Creases form between your brows and you pout at the question, really thinking it over. If there was anything else Neville had learnt about you was that you always answered his queries with great interest and thought. You never treat his questions as though they're dumb, and he’s come to adore you for that.

As you ponder, he slides his non-burnt hand under yours, idly fiddling with your delicate fingers; tracing around the length of them, lifting them up and dropping them one by one, and eventually laying his palm flat on top of yours. Were his hands always this big?

The tips of your fingers tap-tap against his, as you finally answer. "I suppose... I would like to think I am."

"Well... that's good to hear."

"What about you?"

"Oh me?" He finds your face and swallows thickly. "I've been practicing lately, so I can only hope I've improved."

A giggle breaks free from your lips and it’s music to his ears. "Practicing? Whatever for?"

"The Yule Ball, of course."

"The..." The creases near your brows form again. "I've completely forgotten about that."

He squeezes a finger of yours. "So, no one's asked you yet?"

You sneeze into your elbow and then for a second time, and your voice becomes stuffy to the amusement of Neville. "Asked me what?"

"Asked you to be their date, of course."

"Oh. No." Scoffing. "Being stuck in here means no social-life. And besides—" You spin around quick to grab a roll of bandage, and gingerly flatten it over his burn "—who's gonna want to dance with someone who sneezes every five minutes?"

"I would."

"That's what I thought — wait... you would?"

In an effort to look nonchalant, Neville shrugs, finding interest in a bird that's flying near the window. The tips of his ears poking out of his shaggy hair are giving you a different response, they're blushing.

You finish with his wound and step away from the bed, fingers feeling cold when you let go of him.

Upon inspection of your medical handiwork, he smiles gently. He hadn't felt a thing. "Thanks for this."

"I... I can't guarantee that I'll be completely healthy that day," you say.

"The Yule Ball?"

You nod in an almost embarrassed way, as you fiddle with the collar of your sleeping clothes.

Neville just shakes his head. "The suit my Gran got for me has a lot of pockets so I’ll carry all your tissues for you. Or anything else you might need, I'll keep them for you."

"That'sssss.... ACHHU!"

"Bless you. So what do you say? Would you... want to go with me? Maybe? I promise not to step on your feet."

"Miss L/N?! What on earth are you doing out of bed?!"

"MADAME POMFREY!" You both exclaim, faces and necks feeling hot.

"Come on, dear, why don't you ever follow simple orders?!"

Mumbles of pathetic protest fall from your lips as the woman drags you back to the other side of the room. You knock into Neville’s knee on the way and so he’s quick to follow behind you with his own incoherent babble about the burn on his hand.

You're settled under the blankets once again and watch as the nurse's eyes bulge at the sight of the tall boy's perfectly cared for palm. She inspects the bandage, inquires about the pain and what the cause was, all while Neville can't keep the flushed look off his face.

"She— well... Y/N helped me out. It doesn't hurt anymore, I'm fine now, Ma'am."

As the said woman keeps a hold of his hand, she turns to you with daggers. "What did you use? A potion? Spell, perhaps? Mr Longbottom could have severe side-effects if you're not careful."

"He won't," you grin toothily as you did back in your first year and point to the shelf in the right corner. "I used the ointment that you gave Theodore Nott not that long ago. Haha, Nott not."

Neville stifles a laugh, and isn't surprised when the nurse doesn't question you further. You might be the only student that can get away with arguing with Madame Pomfrey.

The nurse's face instead takes the form of an appreciative and impressed expression. It's only natural that with your ‘weak immune system’, you've gained as much medical knowledge as you have colds and flus.

"I'll admit, you've done a splendid job with Neville. However, you simply cannot use whatever you like, whenever you like, on whomever you like. Next time this happens you need to wait for me to return, alright? Is that understood?"

Taking a glance at Neville's sheepish state, you sigh and nod in response.

"And Neville dear, don't encourage this behaviour. Especially not from Miss L/N."

"Okay, Ma'am."

She gives the boy a goodbye and immediately turns to you, a full on lecture spilling from her mouth. He isn’t supposed to leave yet, not when he’s just finally had the courage to ask you out.

Neville finds your helpless gaze behind the woman’s shoulder, and sends you a sad sort of smile before turning on his heel to get to the door.

"I-I'll go with you!" You yell.

The tall boy pauses, heart flipping at your words.

"To the Yule Ball."

There’s no stopping the grin that forms, and he finally nods after a second, hair shaking with the action.

Your eyes speak to him as your own smile appears.

Meanwhile, the woman huffs and puffs, cleaning the area around your bed. "Not in this state, you won't."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Neville's 5th Year

The last time Neville was in the hospital wing, he'd come to talk to you about his recent endeavours in Herbology and let slip that he's been secretly practicing defensive magic with a group of other students, being taught by none other than Harry himself. There was no doubt that you would also be trusted enough to join, however seeing as you were once again bed-ridden, it felt best to keep it a secret until you got better.

Now it wasn't a secret anymore, and each time he'd visit you'd ask him to put in a good word with Harry, with the group. Neville always said he would, but he never did, fearing that Professor Umbitch would eventually catch onto you and you'd have to pay the ultimate price.

Karma is an Umbitch, however, and now it looks as if the only answer to Neville's current predicament is to let you join Dumbledore's Army, despite all his worries and his efforts to stop you from doing that.

Today’s DA training has been cut short, due to the fact that the fifteen-year old is now incapacitated. Blood refusing to slow down from his nose.

Going to Madame Pomfrey would've required him to come up with a believable story as to what happened, so the next best thing was to send for you, someone who already knows about this secret group.

"Neville!" A Ravenclaw boy shouts, interrupting his thoughts. "Your Bogey Bug is here— ow!"

Someone smacks the kid, and then suddenly the Weasley twins are leading you into the Room of Requirement. You stand over him, adorning new pajamas he hadn't seen before.

"Hey Achoo," he weakly smiles. "Thanks for coming."

The DA gather around, as you crouch to his side and immediately take the cloth he's been holding to his nose. You make a face at him. “Oh Neville… what are we going to do with you?”

A fresh line of blood rolls down to his lip, so you let him leave the fabric there to sink it in.

"Keep your head steady, okay? Don't lean back, just let the blood flow for now."

"I think my nose might be broken?"

"Neville, I swear to..." your head spins sharply, and a few students flinch. "Who did this?"

"We were practicing stupefy," the familiar voice of Seamus answers and immediately your tense shoulders relax seeing his face emerge behind the twins. "I didn't mean to. I swear, Y/N."

"He really didn't mean to," Neville echoes.

You sneeze into your elbow and shake your head, palm making contact with your cheek. "See, this is why you should’ve told me about this secret army group thing so I could've joined and stopped something like this from happening.”

"I'm sorry."

You take Neville's hand again and lift the cloth, checking over the damage. There is damage, alright. You try not to make a show of wincing, fearing that the brown-haired boy would get anxious by your reaction, but his nose really does look quite out of sorts. Out of line. Broken.

He realises you haven't said a word in a while and smiles again, "you can fix, can't you, Achoo?"

"I told Neville I could treat him, but he kept refusing and insisted for your presence," Luna's soft voice interrupts as she crouches down beside you.

Someone amongst the crowd starts to coo and the tips of Neville's ears manage to turn beet red, more so when you turn your attention to him, expression unreadable.

Luna carries on, eyes focused on you. "He wouldn't let anyone touch him. Not until now, anyway."

"Okay!" A sudden clap startles even Luna, and you all turn to the perpetrator. Harry Potter's back is turned to your direction as he addresses the crowd, "I think we'll call it a day. Neville needs his strength and so do you."

The crowd murmurs, exchanging pouts and disappointed shrugs.

"Be proud of yourselves, you all did brilliantly today. Each and every one of you have improved. Next time we get to meet we'll continue with the Patronus Charm."

"What about Bogey Bug? How do we know she's not gonna rat us out?" A girl in Hufflepuff asks.

Neville sees you stand up, slapping a hand over your chest. "I swear on my life and the life of Neville—."

"Hey!"

"—that I will not snitch on this group or expose any of you. I promise to be loyal and keep my mouth shut about this."

Some faces don't seem convinced, as more murmurs and chatter erupt.

"She can be our nurse!" Neville exclaims, stealing everyone's attention. It's time to put in that good word for you. "We won't have to go to the hospital wing if Achoo— I mean, Y/N is here. She's really good at what she does. Plus, I accidentally told her about the army about a month ago and she hasn't told a soul since. I do..."

Your big eyes soften when he turns to you.

"...I trust her with my life."

"All right then," Harry claps once more. "All those in favour of Y/N becoming part of the army, raise your hand."

A few hands come up, whilst others whisper for a moment. One more, then four more, and then more hands raise faster than you can count them. You and the broken-nosed boy share grins, as you squeeze his free hand.

"That's it then. Y/N, welcome to Dumbledore's Army."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Neville’s 6th year

Following the events of the previous year of school you and Neville had grown ever closer. Outside of the classroom you'd never be seen without the other. Inseparable. There'd even been a rumour going around that you were dating, but you always denied such claims and Neville could only comply. He hadn't yet told anyone about his feelings for you, although it seemed that those in his close circle were figuring it out on their own.

After having looked like a lost pygmy puff in the Great Hall, Luna found Neville and mentioned to him that you looked 'out of sorts' during class. He hadn't even asked about you. She just knew to tell him.

So, it’s only fitting for him to be by your side now, during lunch hour.

You’re shivering underneath all the sheets and blankets, and yet as Neville glides the back of his fingers across your forehead, you’re sweating as well.

“Hang in there Achoo, you’ll be fine in no time. The spell will take effect.”

You can only give so much as a nod, and groan when your lower abdomen tightens with a deep, stabbing ache.

“Shh,” Neville smooths his delicate fingers over your forehead again, tucking loose strands back to their place with the rest of your hair. “I'm here. Do you want me to distract you with anything?"

"Anything," you squeak, eyes shut tightly as if doing that would stop your cramps and make you fall asleep faster. "Please."

"Alright, erm..." He slides his tongue over his bottom lip and leans in closer to you, elbow pressing into the mattress. "I suppose I can tell you about a dream I had not long ago. You were in it."

"The Hippogriff one?" You tremble.

"No, this is a new one," he smiles when you meet his gaze, finding your fingers peeking through the sheets and taking them into his hands. "It's really stupid, as dreams usually go, but I really like it."

Your fingers are stretched out, as Neville begins to trace over your palm. First he draws a circle and you giggle a little at the feeling.

"This is me," he draws a triangle, "and this is you. It seems like any ordinary day, except you and I have the same classes. In the dream we're both popular. Everyone cheers for us when we get good marks, and even Professor Snape smiles at you."

"No way."

He laughs and traces a shape with lots of spikes. "Yes way. It really seems too good to be true, because there's even a moment where we successfully sneak out at night, we're just in our pajamas and we're watching the stars from the astronomy tower."

"I'm waiting for the 'but'."

"But — here comes the stupid part — you just start flying out of nowhere. One second you're next to me, the next you're just in the sky. I'm freaking out trying to reach for your hand, but you're just so calm about the fact that you mysteriously gained the ability to fly."

You're giggling again, especially as he slaps your palm a few times to emphasise the story. "Accurate reaction."

"And then it just ends with me being able to breath fire."

"What?" You laugh, brows pulling together in amusement. "I wonder what Professor Trelawney would say about that. What all of it might represent."

He draws a line on each of your fingers, slow and tickly. "If it's anything like I've been told before, it probably means bad luck."

"Well I was also in the dream with you, so we'll go through the bad luck together." To his surprise, you thread your fingers through his and squeeze. You're not trembling anymore, you haven't been for the past minute or so, and it doesn't feel like you're being stabbed over and over in the stomach.

"Think you can sleep now?" He asks, fingers hesitantly unravelling.

You nod, grinning at him, those eyes of yours finally shining as bright as they usually do.

"Want me to go get Madame Pomfrey?"

You shake your head. And then your arms are around his neck, head tucked in the space between your bicep and his jawline.

It feels like a millennium till he returns your gesture, arms securing around your waist and back, pulling you in tightly and desperately. The mix of the wing's clinical scent and the smell of baked desserts fills his nose. He could've sworn he'd smelt something like this during Potions class.

"Stay with me," you purr. "Please."

He knows he has class in ten minutes, he knows he can't skip, he knows he'll get in trouble.

So with your arms determined to remain wrapped around each other he bends over, moving till your head meets the pillow. He kicks off one of his school shoes. Then the other.

You feel his knees dip into the mattress beside your thighs, and then you have to part for a moment as he slips under the blankets, his head settling on the pillow right beside yours.

When he's comfortable, you take one of his hands and lower it until he brushes over your clothed belly.

Keeping the heat from entering his ears and cheeks is impossible, as his hand flattens over your stomach, shock evident in his features from your bold action.

"Could you keep it there?" You say, when you feel his uncertainty. "It'll help if the cramps come back." Your own hands smooth over his, trapping him there.

"I will." He swallows thickly. "Are you comfortable?"

You nod. "Are you?"

"Absolutely. Yes. I am."

A content breath passes your lips and you smile, all giddy like, at the ceiling. "Thank you for being here. For being with me always. For not making fun of me being sick all the time. Not calling me Bogey Bug. For... for just being you. For being my most favourite person ever."

"I could really say the same about you." Both your voices are barely above a whisper, seeing as your faces are so close together.

"Thanks Neville," you turn to him, and tap the back of his hand on your belly.

You stare at each other for a moment, and for some reason it doesn't feel wrong. It's not awkward.

Neville breaks the silence. "You... you know how everyone keeps saying that we're... you know going out?"

"Yeah."

Neville pauses for a second, you're staring so intensely, pupils large and beautiful. He tries to swallow past the lump in his throat and squeezes the material of your clothes. He can talk to you, he can ask you the question. He's battled against Bellatrix Lestrange before, he's been put in Gryffindor for a reason. He can ask you. "What do you say we make those rumours... not rumours anymore?"

The corners of your mouth twitch. "You-You mean... you mean like...?"

"Yes. Like that. Like... I want to spend the rest of my life with you, sort of way."

You don't say anything.

He continues, with a small bite of his lip. "Like... I'm completely mad for you and if I don't tell you now I don't think I'll ever get the chance to again."

"This... isn't a dream, is it?"

"Can I prove to you this isn't a dream?"

"Okay."

And it really feels like a dream, as his face leans in and you feels his lips press against the corner of your mouth.

"Did that help?" he whispers.

You twist around to lay on your side, guiding Neville's big hand up to your waist. "You missed, Neville."

"What?"

"You missed."

This time you both lean in, and this time Neville doesn't miss.

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Neville’s 7th year

The last Horcrux has been destroyed, Voldemort's killed, the Death Eaters have fled. New life has been brought to Hogwarts, sun pooling through the shattered windows of the Great Hall.

People sit on broken stools, torn and ashy blankets, chatter quiet and solemn. A few people manage to tell jokes and liven the mood, others cuddle, kiss, crying tears of relief. Nurses scamper around tending to the badly wounded.

Only...

As Neville limps his way through the hall he desperately scans over the crowds only to realise you're not here. You're not by Madame Pomfrey. You're not by Luna either. Neville finds Ginny's tired but hopeful figure and before he can tap her shoulder, she's already turned to him with a gentle smile.

She shakes her head before he even has a chance to speak. "I haven't seen Y/N. Not since... well not since she took care of Freddie. 'M sorry Neville."

"No," he shakes his head and gives the girl a gentle hug when her voice wavers and her bottom lip quivers. "No, I'm sorry."

"You helped kill Voldemort. That's hardly anything to be sorry for," she smiles again as they part, softly pushing at his shoulder to leave. To keep searching for you. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye out for her."

Neville sends her a purposeful nod and turns to leave, the sword of Gryffindor still snug in his hand. At times he uses the weapon as a crutch, the pain in his everything starting to take a toll as previous rushes of adrenaline begin to fade. The only thing keeping him going is the thought of you. You and your sneezes, your messy hair, your often nasally voice, your big eyes and equally big grins. You.

He passes what looks to be remnant of the hospital wing's door, merely a pile of wood chips and metal beams now. He hears the distant tweet of a bird, the pitter-patter of loose rubble and someone's sneeze.

The sword clangs to the ground and he's sprinting. Neville rounds the corner of the entrance to the wing and he stops, breath heavy, vision blurry.

You're there, and you're already staring at him, your grin so large and your eyes even more so and you're holding onto something familiar.

"N-Neville?" your voice is soft and so stuffy and gorgeous.

"Achoo, good Godric." His sore legs carry him to your side, and you're running toward him, arms open. And then you jump and he completely forgets about how much pain he's in when he catches you.

You cling to his sweater, to his shoulders, to his neck, to his waist, squeezing him with every bit of strength you've got left.

He's grasping at your hoody, your waist, your hair, your skin, he's touching all of you, scared that if he'll let go you won't be there anymore.

"I love you so much," he says through a trembling voice.

You pull away slightly and return your feet to the ground, legs unwrapping from his hips. You crane your neck to kiss his jaw, and then you kiss his cheek and his other and then finally his lips. And it sets your heart on fire, full of adoration and care and relief. You don't ever want to stop feeling him here, his supple lips against yours, especially as his hands cup your jaw, reeling you in for more and more.

"I love you Neville," you cry when you finally have to pull away to catch your breaths. "Ever since I first met you. You and your twisted ankle."

He chuckles, tenderly wiping a tear from the apple of your cheek with his thumb. He scans over the room for a moment, as he feels your fingers come to dance over the dry trail of blood from his head wound.

"I don't think we're ever gonna leave this place," he says with a caress of your jaw.

Following his gaze, you giggle. Those beds you spent countless nights on, those countless concoctions and medical supplies you've had used on you, they're all here, scattered and battered around the room.

"That's why I came here instead of the Hall," you say, keeping one arm around your boyfriend's waist and unravelling the other to reveal an intact jar of creamy coloured ointment. "I'm so sorry, I must've scared you nuts."

"Scared me to death more like, but all I had to do was listen out for your sneezes. Turns out it isn't that hard to find you."

You poke your tongue out and he laughs. "That's so embarrassing. Always comes back to me being a Bogey Bug."

"Yeah," he smoothly pulls you in for an ardent kiss, "my Bogey Bug."

"You know what else I am?"

You're leaning against his arms that are wrapped around you and he watches as you take off the lid of the jar. Just like his fourth year, you use your fingers to scoop up a teaspoon of the cream.

"What? What else are you?"

You step out and take one of his hands, letting his palm sit over the top of yours. And then the cream is applied over the burns on the back of his hands. In spite of these burns looking way worse than his wound from Potions class back in his fourth year, the pain is still barely felt once the ointment's smoothed over. What's also killing the sting is looking at your breathtaking eyes. He's lost in them, distracted completely.

"I'm also your nurse," you finally say, wiping the excess over your hoody.

Neville's mouth curls into a smirk, snaking his arms around you again and pressing your bodies tightly together. "Well, nurse. My lips are feeling kind of sore, do you think you can fix them?"

You hum, eyes twinkling with mischief as your hands link behind his neck.

His gaze dips to your mouth, trying to fight the heat flowing to his cheeks and ears. There will never be a time when you won't make him nervous and giddy.

You mirror his action, eyes taking their time stare at his lips. "You know what, darling? I think I've got just the thing for you."

[cinnabunwanda]

I CANT HELP BUT LOVE YOU OKAY? ˗ˏˋ꒰ WANDA . MAXIMOFF꒱ -> drabble

content warning —fluff only!!

pairing —fem reader x Wanda Maximoff

summary —Tony and Steve discuss your sexuality, with Natasha, Bucky, Bruce, Peter, and Wanda joining the conversation. Stark and Cap try to determine your sexuality.

word count —  0.6k

As you descended the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast, you caught snippets of conversation from the team gathered there. The voices echoed off the walls and mingled into a cacophony of chatter.

Man 1: There's no way she's straight. She radiates top energy.

Man 2: Straight women can be tops too, you know.

Man 1: She called the witch 'Princess', that is not straight behavior.

You rolled your eyes, used to their playful banter by now, and made your way into the kitchen. "Morning," you greeted Tony and Steve with a smile before turning to see Clint perched on the vents above. You chuckled at his unconventional entrance.

"Good Morning, Y/n!" he called out with a grin. You settled into a chair at the table, facing your teammates who were clearly surprised by Clint's presence.

"So, what were you two idiots talking about?" You grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl and sat on the chair backwards, resting your arms on the backrest.

"Hey," Tony protested with mock offense, "he's the idiot, I'm a genius."

"Yeah, a genius who sucks at evasion," you countered wryly. Turning to Clint, you asked, "So what were they discussing?"

"They were trying to figure out if you're gay or not," Clint replied with a mischievous smirk. You couldn't help but laugh out loud at their childish antics.

"Really boys?" Steve looked away sheepishly while Tony shrugged nonchalantly. Just then, the rest of the team filed into the room. Natasha, Bucky, Bruce, Peter, and Wanda all took their seats around the table after grabbing their respective breakfast items. Natasha broke the silence first.

"So what topic brought the conversation in here to a crashing halt?"

"Stark and Cap were trying to figure out if I'm gay," you explained with a shake of your head. Natasha snorted under her breath, not buying their absurd line of questioning.

"Seriously boys? I've never met anyone more obviously a lesbian than Y/n," she deadpanned, her signature smirk making an appearance. You couldn't help but feel a hint of joy at the rare display of emotion from her. Pushing it aside, you focused on the rest of your teammates.

"You all know I'm a lesbian, so what about the rest of you?" Tony answered first with a cool confidence, "Straight."

When you turned to Steve, his cheeks grew red and his eyes silently begged for you to move on. Not wanting to cause any discomfort, you moved onto Bucky who replied with a non-committal shrug, "Uh, I think the word is bisexual." You nodded in acknowledgement before turning to Natasha.

"Tasha?" She smirked knowingly, "Yes." You nodded once more and then looked at Peter.

"Kid? Are you straight?" Peter shook his head uncertainly, "I-I don't think so, Miss Y/n." Not sure how to respond, you simply nod and take a bite of food. That's when Tony broke the silence again.

"Wanda, what about you?" You watched as Wanda's face flushed a deep shade of red before stuttering out an answer, "I-I'm straight." Trying not to laugh, you took another bite of your banana but ended up choking on it when Wanda called out defensively towards you.

"I am straight!" she insisted with fiery determination. After catching your breath, you nodded understandingly but before you could say anything else, JARVIS interrupted with an important message.

"Mr. Stark, Director Fury has sent you a mission." As you all filed out of the kitchen to attend to your respective tasks for the day, you pinned Wanda against the wall for a moment. Leaning close enough so only she would hear you, you whispered with a hint of challenge in your tone.

"If you're straight, then why do I know how you taste?" Without waiting for an answer, you pushed off the wall and walked away, feeling her gaze burning into your back as you exited the room.

©Elena do not copy, edit, or translate my works.