#but if anyone has a voice similar to butters and would like to try and voice act for it (for free) hmu

[everythingwasnormalhere]

you, yes you, would you want to work for free on an app that will have no finantial compensation and that will be using your time for free? this is your chance!

[cowboybeepboop]

I'm not too sure if you're still taking requests but I was wondering if you can do a Scott from twisters and a super shy reader one? Like it could be Scott is her boss or something and he notices that she's super timid and shy and takes care of her. It could be fluff or smut but mostly leaning towards smut lol

I absolutely love all your work and you are such a talented writer!

Pairing: Scott Miller x fem! Reader

Genre: Romantic smut with fluff at the end

Word count: 5 k

Warnings: a little bit of roughness, p in v sex, fingering, semi public sex

a/n: Omg, I’m actually so excited you requested this bc I’ve been thinking of writing something similar for a bit. I’m always happy to take requests as well 😝 Also thank you so much! I hope this lives up to what you were expecting <3

You’ve been working at a small publishing company for the past couple months. It’s all been great, aside from the *strange* interest your boss Mr. Miller has taken in you. He seems to thrive on pushing your boundaries and putting you in situations that you would usually try and avoid. But at least he doesn’t yell at you or get on your ass about every small detail like he does with the rest of his crew.

The office buzzed with the usual cacophony of clicking keyboards and hushed conversations, but your desk remained a bubble of relative calm. That was, until James, the office chatterbox, perched himself on the edge of your table, his elbow propping up a paperback novel and his legs swinging carelessly.

He had a way of invading personal spaces without so much as a knock. "Hey, could you just...?" he began, dangling a manuscript in the air expectantly. It was the third time that week he'd asked you to cover for him. His eyes sparkled with the hope that you’d once again take the bait.

Your heart sank, knowing you couldn't refuse him without causing a scene or damaging the precarious office dynamics. But before you could utter a word, Mr. Miller's sharp voice sliced through the air like a hot knife through butter. "James," he barked, his stern gaze sweeping over the room and landing on the manuscript in James' hand, "this is the third time I've caught you offloading your work. Do it yourself or face the consequences."

The room fell silent, and James, caught in the act, had the decency to look sheepish. He scurried away, muttering something about deadlines and coffee. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of gratitude towards Mr. Miller, despite his mysterious intentions.

Your eyes brightened as you smiled up at your boss, giving him a silent “thank you”. Mr. Miller's gruff expression did little to hide the smug satisfaction that briefly flashed across his face before he turned away, the tension in the room dissipating as swiftly as it had appeared.

He marched back to his office, the heavy door swinging shut behind him with a decisive thud. You watched him go, feeling a mix of relief and curiosity about the enigmatic man who had just come to your aid. The silence was broken by the resumption of whispers and the shuffling of papers, but your thoughts remained fixed on the peculiar exchange.

You chew on the cap of your pen as your mind continues to wander to your boss. The tall and buff man who never lets a single hair get out of place. You couldn't deny the undeniable attraction you felt towards Mr. Miller, despite his brusque demeanor. His piercing blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and the way his tailored suits hugged his broad shoulders had not gone unnoticed by the female staff, or anyone with a pulse for that matter.

Yet, his rough around the edges personality kept everyone at bay, except for you. The way he'd occasionally drop a curse word in the middle of a meeting or roll up his sleeves to reveal strong muscles was oddly charming. You found yourself eager to learn more about the man behind the stern facade, hoping that there was a softer, more approachable side to him that the office hadn't yet discovered.

As the lunch hour begins, Mr. Miller steps out of his office, his gaze sweeping over the bustling office. He spots you, diligently working at your desk, and saunters over. He leans against your cubicle, arms crossed, emanating a mix of authority and nonchalance. His eyes lock onto yours, a subtle smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“So,” he drawls, his gruff voice a contrast to the ambient office chatter, “busy day, huh?” Your gaze meets his.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You give him a soft smile before looking back at your computer screen, trying to ignore the way your heart rate picks up in his presence.

“Uh-huh.” He lets out a low, contemplative hum, his eyes studying you, making you feel almost exposed. His gaze lingers a beat longer than necessary before he glances away.

“You look... stressed,” he comments, his tone casual but his observation astute. He leans in just a bit closer than what would be considered appropriate for coworkers.

You gulp as you lean back in your seat, trying to create distance between the two of you. “I’m not stressed.” Your pitch becomes slightly higher as a soft flush paints your cheeks.

Mr. Miller notices your shift backwards and the subtle rise in your voice, his smirk growing as he pushes himself off the cubicle wall and stands tall over you. He towers over your sitting form, the intensity in his gaze increasing.

“You sure about that, sweetheart?” he drawls, the last word rolling off his tongue in that way that always makes your heart skip a beat.

“Uh, Mr. Miller?” Your voice cracks a little as you shoot out of your chair. “I’ve got to go grab some things from the storage room.” you mumble as you slide past him.

Scott watches as you dart out of your seat, his smirk still firmly in place. He allows you to brush past him, his eyes following your every step. He waits a beat, letting you gain a small lead, before he slowly starts to follow you, his footsteps nearly silent. His eyes never leave your form as he continues to walk a few feet behind, his hands shoved into his pockets.

You open the door to the storage closet, taking a deep breath as you walk inside. An annoyed sigh leaves your lips as you notice the stapler you need is on the top shelf. You stand on your tippy toes, which doesn’t get you close enough so you begin to jump, not noticing your boss standing against the closed door.

Mr. Miller stays back, silently leaning against the door as he watches you attempt to reach the stapler on the top shelf. A hint of amusement dances in his eyes and a slight smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. He remains quiet, a silent observer of your struggle.

He lets you jump for a few moments, enjoying the way your body rises up and down, before he finally makes a sound. “Need some help there, sweetheart?”

“Oh shit!” Your eyes widen as you turn around, startled by his voice. He chuckles, the sound low and rough, as you inadvertently collide with his chest. He leans down, reaching easily over you and plucks the stapler from the top shelf. His other hand lands on your hip to steady you, his grip firm but not unwelcome.

“You’re a bit jumpy, aren’t you?” he teases, his voice a low rumble. He looks down at you, his eyes glinting with amusement.

You clear your throat as your eyes fall to the floor. “I didn’t expect you to be in here,” you fix your skirt as you shift awkwardly.

Mr. Miller takes a step closer, closing the distance between the two of you, effectively trapping you between his body and the wall. He looks down at you, his eyes darkened with something you can’t quite place.

“You didn’t expect someone to walk into the storage closet?” he asks, his smirk turning into a small, sly smile. He raises the stapler in his hand, still grasping it just above your head, his forearm mere inches from your face.

“Well,” you look up at him, chewing on your bottom lip. “Everyone else went to lunch, so I didn’t expect anyone to come in…” your voice trails off as you glance past him at the closed door.

Mr. Miller notices your gaze flicker to the door, his smirk widening as he leans closer, his free hand bracing against the wall beside you, effectively caging you in.

“So you thought you’d be all alone in here, did you?” he drawls, his voice lower and more intimate, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils. He shifts his foot, his legs now bracket yours, trapping you even more effectively.

“Mr. Miller?” You press your hand against his chest, pushing his body slightly. A dark blush paints your skin as you gaze up at him.

Scott feels your hand push against his chest, but he doesn't budge. Instead, he leans in closer, his body practically flush against yours. His eyes roam over you, taking in the way the blush colors your skin.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he responds, his voice a deep rumble. His hand on the wall moves to your waist, his fingers splaying out across the thin material of your blouse.

“What are.. are you doing?” You gulp as he pulls you closer to him. Scott lets out a low chuckle, his smirk still firmly in place. He continues to press you against the wall, his body almost enveloping you completely.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he drawls, his hand on your waist shifting slightly, his thumb starting to trace small, infuriating patterns across your hip bone.

You lean into his chest with a soft gasp at his touch. “This isn’t very, uh, professional…” you groan out as his hands trail over your skin.

Scott lets out another deep chuckle, his touch growing more purposeful as his hand continues its maddening journey across your skin. He can feel your body responding to his touch, your gasp of pleasure feeding his growing desire.

“Professional…” he echoes, his voice a low rumble in his throat. “It’s lunch break, sweetheart. There’s no one here but you and me.” He leans closer, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath hot against your skin. “And I don’t feel like being professional right now.”

Scott’s smirk turns into a full-fledged smile as he reads the clear invitation in your eyes. Before you can fully process his intentions, he pulls you into a passionate kiss, his hands sliding your skirt up as he does so. Your body responds instinctively, your arms wrapping around his neck as his lips claim yours.

His touch is surprisingly gentle, yet firm, leaving no room for doubt or denial. You can feel the heat from his palms as they graze the bare skin of your thighs, sending shivers down your spine. His kiss is demanding but not aggressive, a silent declaration of his desire that you find yourself unable to resist.

The sound of your breath mingling with his fills the small space as your hearts race in tandem, the line between professionalism and passion blurring like the ink on a freshly edited manuscript.

Mr. Miller's hand slides down further, slipping under the hem of your skirt and brushing against the silk of your panties. His touch sends a jolt of excitement through your body, making you squirm against the wall. He chuckles against your lips, feeling your wetness through the thin fabric.

His fingers trace the edge of your panties, teasing the sensitive skin before hooking them and sliding them down your thighs. His palm flattens against your bare mound, the heat of his hand sending a rush of pleasure through your core. You gasp into his mouth as he massages you, his thumb circling your clit with a masterful pressure that leaves you trembling and desperate for more.

The storage room suddenly feels much smaller as your world narrows to the feel of his body pressing against yours and the sensations he's coaxing from your body. Your thighs instinctively squeeze around his arm as he expertly works his thumb against your clit, his movements growing more insistent and deliberate.

His other hand moves to the small of your back, pressing you harder against the wall, his body pinning yours in place as his kiss deepens. His tongue delves into your mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his thumb, and you can't help but moan softly. The pressure builds within you, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as you feel the beginnings of an orgasm coil in your belly.

Your hands grasp his shoulders, nails digging in as you try to anchor yourself against the overwhelming sensations. The room is filled with the muffled sounds of your moans and his groans, the only music to the illicit dance of your bodies. His fingers continue to explore, slipping one inside of you, stretching and filling you with a delicious fullness that makes your knees weak.

Your hips buck against his hand, desperately seeking more friction as he whispers dirty words into your ear, his breath hot and heavy. The walls seem to close in around you, and all you can focus on is the exquisite torment he's inflicting, the promise of a climax that seems just out of reach.

You pull away from the kiss, moaning out his name. “Scott..” you bury your face in his neck. Mr. Miller's thumb continues its relentless circles around your clit, his hand curling into a fist as he feels your wetness soaking his fingers. His other hand squeezes your ass, pulling you even closer to his growing erection, which presses against your stomach.

He seems to enjoy the way you're responding to him, the way your body moves with his touch. His teeth graze your neck, eliciting a shiver that runs down your spine, as he whispers in your ear, "You're so fucking wet for me, aren't you?" His voice is thick with lust, his breath warm and heavy against your skin.

Your moans become louder, muffled by his mouth, as he brings you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. The storage room feels like it's spinning around you, your body a taut bowstring ready to snap. And just when you think you can't take it anymore, Mr. Miller's thumb presses down hard on your clit, and you shatter in his arms, your orgasm ripping through you like a wildfire, leaving you boneless and panting against the wall.

As the intensity of your climax subsides, Scott’s kisses turn tender, pressing against your cheeks and neck as he supports your trembling body. He gently sets you on your feet, his strong arms keeping you upright as your legs wobble like jelly.

With a satisfied smirk, he withdraws his hand from beneath your skirt and brings it to his mouth, licking his fingers clean with a wolfish gaze that sends another wave of heat through your core. His eyes never leave yours as he tastes you, savoring the sweetness of your arousal.

The intimacy of the moment is almost overwhelming, leaving you breathless and utterly exposed in the dingy office storage closet. You stand there, panting and flushed, unable to look away from the raw hunger in his gaze. The air around you feels thick with unspoken desire, the silence only broken by the distant hum of the office outside the door, a stark contrast to the passionate scene playing out in the shadowy confines of the room.

Your body feels alive, every nerve ending still singing from his touch, and your mind is racing with the implications of what just happened between you. His fingers move to pull the hem of your skirt down, fixing your clothes as he pulls away from you.

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips as his eyes roam over your disheveled form. The sight of you, leaning against the wall, looking utterly spent, fuels his inner dominance, his primal desire to possess and claim.

He takes a step back, putting some distance between you, but his gaze remains fixed on you like a predator studying its prey. He runs a hand along his jaw. "You taste even sweeter than I imagined," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly.

Your skin turns a deep red as you cover your face in embarrassment. “We should probably go back to work now…” You mutter while trying to change the subject.

Scott lets out a throaty chuckle at your sudden change of topic, his gaze still locked onto every move you make. He can tell you’re feeling embarrassed, flustered by what just took place between you, and he can’t help but find it amusing and adorable.

He takes another step back and leans against the door, arms crossed over his chest now. "That’s the last thing on my mind right now," he responds with a smirk, his eyes raking over your body.

Your hand grasps his arm as you push him away gently. “Mr. Miller,” you bite your lip, “We *should* go get back to work before…” your voice trails off.

Scott’s smirk deepens as you push him gently, his eyes darkening with a mixture of desire and dominance. He doesn’t budge, his body tense and unyielding under your touch. His arms remain crossed over his chest, his muscles corded and taut.

"Before what, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice a low rumble in his throat. He takes a step closer, invading your personal space again. "You want to act like nothing just happened in here?“

“No. That’s not what I meant,” your tone is soft as you gaze up at him. “But, we have to go back to work before anyone notices..”

Scott’s smirk softens, his expression gentling a bit as you gaze up at him. He can see the genuine concern in your eyes, and he understands the logical reason behind your words. It’s true that you can’t stay in this storage closet forever, not without the risk of someone discovering what just happened.

He uncrosses his arms and reaches out, taking your chin gently between his fingers. “You’re right,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing a lazy path along your lower lip. “We do need to go back eventually.”

Standing on your tippy toes you pull him into a gentle kiss. Your hand trailing down his muscular chest. Scott melts into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against his body. He returns the kiss with equal gentle passion, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, seeking entrance.

His hands move over your body, pulling you even closer, his muscles tense and taut beneath your touch, as if he’s holding himself back from losing control.

When the kiss breaks, he rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he tries to regain his bearings. "We should really go back, sweetheart."

“Mhm..” you murmur, “We really should.” You step away with a sigh not willing to leave his embrace. Scott lets out a small huff of laughter at your reluctance to leave.

He understands the feeling, the desire to remain in this intimate bubble you’ve created together, away from the outside world. But he knows just as well as you do that it’s inevitable, you have to go back to work eventually.

"Come on," he says, his voice gruff but gentle. "Let’s get out of here, before we get ourselves into more trouble.” You follow close behind him groaning when you sit back down at your desk, your eyes following him as he returns to his office.

Scott returns to his office, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. He can feel your eyes on him as he walks away, and it takes everything in him to resist the urge to turn around and pull you back into that small storage closet.

He takes a seat behind his desk and lets out a deep breath, trying to focus on the paperwork in front of him, but his mind keeps wandering back to the taste of you and the feel of your body against his.

The rest of the work day drones on endlessly, your eyes constantly flicking between your boss and the clock. You spin in your chair while chewing on your pen again. As the day comes to an end, James finds his way back to your desk this time with a sweet smile as he grabs the back of your chair, turning you to face him.

James approaches your desk, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He gently grabs the back of your chair, spinning it around to face him.

"Hey there," he greets, his smile widening at the sight of you. "Got any plans for tonight?" You gaze up at him with an awkward smile.

“Uh, actually I need to stay late tonight..” you turn your attention back to your computer, fumbling with a few scattered papers on your desk.

James tilts his head as he watches you mess with the papers on your desk, a small frown creasing his forehead.

"Stay late?" he repeats, taking a small step closer to your desk. "Why do you need to stay late tonight?"

Just as you're trying to come up with a response to James' question, Scott's deep voice calls out from his office.

"Ms. Y/N, can I see you in here for a moment?" he calls out, sounding casual but firm. You hurry towards Scott's office, your heart pounding in your chest as you step through the door, Scott is seated behind his desk, papers spread out before him, but his eyes are fixed on you as you enter.

"Close the door," he instructs, his voice low and commanding. The door shuts with a soft click, enclosing you and Scott in the quiet solitude of his office. He watches you move towards him, his gaze intently fixed on you.

"Come here," he commands, beckoning you forward with a crook of his finger. You bite down on your lip as you walk to him, sitting on the desk in front of him.

As you perch yourself on the desk in front of him, Scott's hands come to rest on your thighs, his palms hot even through the fabric of your skirt. He leans back in his chair, his gaze roaming over your body, taking in every detail.

"We need to talk," he murmurs, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thighs. Your feet hook into the arms of his chair as you pull him closer to you, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“Mhm, we need to talk.” You look at him with eyes full of desire. Scott's lips curl into a smirk as you pull him closer, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your waist. He lets you pull him in, his chair rolling easily as he comes to a stop right in between your legs.

Scott chuckles lowly at your brazen move, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. His hands slide up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher up your legs until they're resting on your hips.

He looks up at you with a dark, smoldering gaze, his hands squeezing your hips tightly. "Is this how we talk now, sweetheart?"

You pull him into a passionate kiss, Scott grins against your mouth, his hands sliding around to cup your ass as he kisses you back with a fervor that takes your breath away. He stands up from his chair, pressing you back against the desk as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth.

You wrap your legs around his body pulling him tight against you. Scott groans into the kiss, his body molded perfectly against yours. His hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as he rocks his hips into you, his hard length pressing against the thin fabric of your panties.

He breaks the kiss and moves to your neck, his teeth and tongue nipping and soothing the sensitive skin. "You have no idea how badly I've been wanting to do this all day," he whispers hoarsely.

“Show me how bad,” you moan out, your hands moving to his belt as you fumble with the buckle. Scott grins at your demand, watching as your shaky hands struggle with his belt.

"Impatient, are we?" he teases, his hands covering yours, aiding you in undoing his belt and the button of his pants.

He presses you back against the desk, pinning your hands above your head as his hips grind against yours, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this eager before, sweetheart."

“Scott I need you,” you moan quietly, “please.” Scott's smirk turns into a full-blown smile at your needy whimper, his eyes darkening with desire. He quickly pulls your panties aside, revealing your wet, swollen sex to his hungry gaze.

His own arousal is palpable, his cock straining against his briefs. With a swift motion, he releases himself and sheaths it with a condom he's had in his pocket, anticipation making his hands shake slightly. He lines himself up with your entrance and with one powerful thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely.

You gasp into his mouth as he starts to move, his strokes deep and measured, his hands holding you down on the desk as he takes you over and over again. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through your body, making you arch into him, desperate for more.

The sound of your moans mingles with the rustle of paper and the slap of skin on skin, creating a symphony of passion that echoes through the otherwise silent office. The urgency in his movements grows, his hips slamming into yours with a rhythm that matches the racing of your heart.

You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your muscles tightening around him as you whisper his name like a prayer. His grip on your wrists tightens, his hips moving faster, more insistent. You know it won't be long before you both succumb to the overwhelming desire that's been building between you all day.

As the tension between you reaches a fever pitch, Scott's hips begin to move with an erratic rhythm, his breathing heavy and ragged against your neck. You can feel the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot deep within you, sending shudders of pleasure through your body with every stroke. His grip on your wrists tightens even more, his movements becoming more forceful as he nears his own climax.

Your eyes flutter closed as you lean back, arching your body into him, silently begging for more. His teeth graze your skin, his tongue tracing a wet path up to your ear, where he whispers a string of filthy words that only serve to stoke the fire burning within you.

You tighten your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, faster, the pressure building until it's almost unbearable. And then, with one final, powerful thrust, he groans deeply, his body tensing as he releases inside the condom. The wave of your own orgasm follows almost immediately, a powerful crescendo that leaves you gasping for air. Your bodies remain intertwined for a moment, both of you panting and trembling from the intensity of your shared release.

As the tremors of your shared climax subside, Scott pulls out of you gently, the feeling of emptiness making you whimper. He quickly disposes of the condom in a nearby trash bin, his movements swift and practiced, not wanting to break the spell that's woven around the two of you. He then presses soft, delicate kisses along your neck and collarbone, his breathing still heavy with desire.

Each kiss feels like a whispered promise of more to come, a silent apology for the roughness of his earlier touch. His hands glide over your body, smoothing out your rumpled clothes, his eyes never leaving yours. The air in the office is thick with the scent of sex and the unspoken understanding that everything has changed between you. You watch him, your heart racing, as he takes a step back, his gaze lingering on your swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

He helps you down from the desk, his hands lingering on your waist as you stand unsteadily on wobbly legs. He pulls his pants up, his eyes never leaving yours, as he tucks in his shirt and re-buckles his belt. With a soft smile, he leans in to kiss you, his hands moving to fix your skirt and panties. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as he ensures you’re put back together properly.

You watch him, still dizzy from the passionate encounter, as he straightens his tie and runs a hand through his hair. The smell of sex lingers in the air, a potent reminder of what just transpired. He pulls you into his arms, pressing sweet kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, and finally your lips, his breath warm and comforting against your skin.

Scott wraps you in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, finally your lips. You shiver slightly, still a bit flushed and breathless from the passionate encounter. "You alright, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice gruff yet gentle.

“Yes, more than alright.” A soft smile paints your lips as you press your face into his chest, breathing in his cologne.

Scott grins as you bury your face in his chest, his arms holding you close. He revels in the feel of your body against his, the warmth and softness of your skin.

"Good," he murmurs, running a soothing hand down your back. "Because I have a question for you." You hug his waist cuddling into his warm and muscular body.

“What is it?” You pull back a bit, looking up at him. Scott keeps you snug against him, enjoying the feel of your body cuddled into his. His arms tighten around you, reluctant to let you go just yet.

"I was wondering," he begins, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "If you'd like to go out to dinner with me tonight?" You smile at him sweetly.

“I’d love to.” Scott's smile widens into a full-blown grin at your acceptance. He gently cups your chin with his thumb and forefinger, looking down at you with a gaze that holds a hint of possessive intent.

"Good," he says, his voice low and husky. "Because I can't stand the thought of letting you out of my sight for too long."

[astrxlfinale]

🌿 Author portrait. Get to know the author behind the blog! repost, do not reblog.

Basics.

Name/nickname: Jace. (Has been my net handle for forever.) The Grumpy Ass.

Age: 32! I am indeed made of all bones and walking canes now.

Pronouns: He/Him.

Years of writing: Since my mid-teens. It really started around the time I first got a computer at my grandma's old place. Was able to watch overseas shows then one thing led to another.

Reflection.

Why did you pick up writing?: For me if was to answer one simple thing. 'What if', and that itself could be tied to countless scenarios that wouldn't be shared in canon continuity. Initially it was what do the characters do off the screen, then it edged to getting more detailed, to what new journeys or shared moments could they have? It led to a hell of a fun snowball effect. Coming onto different platforms and seeing it was shared or that other folks were ahead of the curved served as some fun motivation. In all the good, bad and deadass kinds of wild. It led to another 'what if' to answer, and still is being answered to this day with the RP hobby.

Do you have any writing routines?: My methods for knocking out replies are to always actively read the post. (no duh Jace), BUT, this comes with the idea on how to blend and extend. How can I give the post offered to me its due diligence and reactions, but how can I equally build off that by ensuring there's enough content to be responsive to for my RP partner? I let my character perceive to find their voice in terms of response and actions during this process.

Afterwards once I got the framework in my head, I kick on some tunes I genuinely enjoy getting it all doled out with the metaphorical meat and potatoes.

That said when it comes to scrounging up not muse per say, but that certain line of writing that I'm satisfied with? I just hop back to old works (fan made and official) that really worked those writing wrinkles in my head. There's some content that vividly let my fingers flow to 'paint a picture', in either emotion or literal presence in scene setting.

What's your favorite part about writing?: For me it'd just be bringing feeling to a scene. To give a very easy ground for anyone, experienced or new in this kind of thing to just feel the said scene. Not as some realistic one for one, but as a means to let their imagination comfortably sit in the drivers seat and have these elements expand before it. Tied with that is being able to find neat/cool ways to highlight my own muse's emotions through writing, letting it so volatile in it's creativity and their said emotions in said scenario.

Three things you like about your writing.

One. I really enjoy how shameless my writing can be. Honestly speaking, my personal taste never really clashed well with 'refinement'. It's blunt and broad, it holds energy and isn't ashamed to really let that be. I feel like that essence of 'voice' within writing is an important fundamental for me enjoying it. In hand with this, it's also why I never could actively write like other authors, and trying to say write similar to how a series does would never great great results from me. I want to carry that particular voice that varies with my muses, and have it flourish with what they also bring to the table.

Two. One thing I've also become proud of is details. Coming from a point where text based dialogue writing was my main bread and butter, watching the change in how it actually expanded has been like night and day for me. In particular, being able to describe a scene in these warm, cold or chaotic ways, adding that touch of whimsical flare to my posts as well. It's primarily why I get my kick from always having some fantasy in my settings, old age, modern or futuristic all the same. I love when I can get to use all the extra detail as extensions.

Three. This isn't tied into the act of writing in itself. Now days however I have to say I really improved on the aspect of proper plotting. My main issue was that I used to make it sound either too much like a script, or I got so creativity locked that it actually sucked the fun out the process for me. Taking some new approaches to the RP hobby has actually ironed out this detail, and I've come to see the incredible amounts of fun that can be held with it too. I intend taking the utmost advantage as well.

A question for the next person.

Write a question for the next person to answer. Once you've answered it, leave a new question for someone else to answer.

When life throws you lemons, and gets you down, does writing become something that you're drawn to as to get you through it, or do you feel like it does the opposite?

For me it'd be the absolute opposite. My creativity first and foremost is tied to me having a good mood. Being in more negative headspaces generally makes me harder to approach, so normally I wouldn't frequent any social angles for a prolonged period while I get that ironed out. It becomes a case of contrasting gears that are heavily rusted.

This is why I often put emphasis on this being a hobby for me. To me, it's similar as to booting up a video game for example and giving it a good spin. A more downtrodden me is moreso being a slough and not really wanting to move, outside of just watching tv while being a bump on a log. Stuff like that needs genuine time for me or a key situation involving said scenario to really iron out those kinks.

It leaves a bad taste for my type of character let that touch of escaping get involved.

New question: What are your favorite details that you enjoy to highlight about your muse through writing? Is a physical element? A measure of character that holds the most flare? This can have multiple answers or a solitary one.

Tagged by: @araneitela Look at you dive bombing me with this. Thank you kindly homegirl.

Tagging: Any and all can proceed to take part! What's your writing lore, let the fine details fly out.

[atmosghoul]

43, SWISS/DEW- PLZZZZ OMG I LOVE UR WORK!!!!

ANON THANK U SO MUCH YOU HAVE ACTIVATED MY TRAP CARD SWISSDEW IS MY LIIFFEEEE

This uh,,,,kinda got away from me soooo ENJOOYYYY

Minors go away this isnt for you

Dew has a problem. A great big beautiful, charismatic, problem called Swiss. What a stupid name. 

Ever since Swiss was summoned, he and the rambunctious fire ghoul have butted heads. Aether says that they're just too similar. Both assholes in their own right, both flirtatious to a fault and both very aware of their talents and their effect on those around them. All of the ghouls try to get them to play nice, breaking up arguments and sometimes even physical fights that the two get into. 

If you ask Mountain though, he’ll say they just need to fuck already. 

The sexual tension of Swiss and Dewdrop in a room together can be cut with a child’s toy butter knife. Dew knows it, Swiss knows it. But both are too stubborn to admit it to anyone, especially each other or themselves. And while it is a bit more of Dew having a problem with Swiss than the other way around, Swiss has too much fun lighting a fuse under the little firecracker and watching him explode.

“Firefly, I said I’m sorry, okay? ! didn't know those wings were yours. I thought they were fair game!,” Swiss says, for once genuinely apologetic for inadvertently stealing the fire ghoul's food from the fridge.

“Satanas, knock it OFF with that annoying nickname! No one else called me that until you showed up! Where did you ev- It doesn’t matter. DON’T steal my fucking food again.” Dew drop says stomping closer to Swiss hoping to intimidate the larger ghoul by crowding his space. 

Needless to say, it isn’t working. 

Swiss humours the smaller ghoul stalking towards him though and matches each of Dew’s steps forward with a step back, back, back, until he hits a wall and puts his hands up in mock surrender.

“Look, if it’s any consolation, those wings were so hot I think I started blowing smoke out of my nose like you do when you get angry.”

Dew stops and exhales, smoke pouring out his nose just as Swiss said as the tips of his ears turn an angry red

“Yeah! See? Just like that!” Swiss says pointing excitedly. Like a kid pointing out his favourite animal at the zoo. 

“It really did hurt so, in a way, I’ve kind of already paid penance for my crimes, if you think about it, firecracker,” Swiss says with a shit eating grin and a chuckle.

“Fucking hell, ANOTHER stupid nickname! Why do you INSIST on pissing me off every damn time I see you what the fuck did I ever do to you?” Dew is starting to shout now, exasperated.

Swiss puts on a clearly fake sympathetic look and places his hands on Dew’s shoulders and bends down slightly to get to eye level. “Aw, fire lily, you didn’t do anything! I guess I’m just a little addicted to getting you all riled up like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a quick scrunch of his nose in the fire ghoul’s direction.

Dew freezes at that nickname. It hits too close to home. Bringing back memories of his past. Back when he was a water ghoul and Mountain would call him waterlily. 

Dew growls, throwing his arms up and shrugging Swiss’ hands off his shoulders before poking Swiss in the chest hard, encroaching even further into the multi ghoul's personal space.

“You should be addicted to shutting the fuck up,” Dew growls and Swiss can hear the anger in his voice is real and something in Swiss snaps. 

He grabs Dew by his arms and spins them around, pinning Dew to the wall with an arm across his chest and presses his hips into Dew to keep his full body pinned almost effortlessly. He watches Dew’s reaction and smirks at the blush that creeps up Dew’s neck and into his cheeks, the ashen skin becoming tinged with a reddish orange. Swiss’ gaze drops to Dew drops small mouth that’s now hanging open slightly.

“Aw little firecracker, you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you looks stupid,” 

And with that comment, it’s Dew’s turn to snap. He growls and dips his head down to spit sparks onto Swiss’ forearm and kicks him in the shin before delivering a punch to the multi ghoul’s gut. 

Swiss doubles over and Dew takes advantage of the situation. He grabs Swiss by the shoulders and pins him against the wall in the same way. 

Swiss outright laughs at the size difference between the two of them. It's not too drastic but it's enough to be comical. 

“Oh boy, little firecracker’s about to explode aren’t y-”

“SHUT UP” Dew all but screams in Swiss’ face. 

Something in Dew’s voice, probably the way it cracked slightly, and in his face makes Swiss pause and really take him in. Dew is properly angry. More angry than Swiss has ever seen him at least that he’s been the cause of. 

His face softens and he reaches a hand up to gently grip Dew’s arm. 

“Dewdrop, I-” “I SAID SHUT. UP.” 

Swiss obeys and gives the fire ghoul a moment.

After a beat Dew’s eyes leave Swiss’ face and looks up to the ceiling.

“What if I did?” Dew says after a few seconds.

Swiss tilts his head in confusion. “What if you did…what?”

“Wanted to…” Dew trails off and growls in frustration.

Realisation dawns on Swiss and he gently grabs Dewdrop's arm and removes it from his collar bone. 

“All you had to do was ask.”

He doesn't even give the fire ghoul time to think before his lips crash into Dew’s quickly. 

Dew freezes for a second before reciprocating and Swiss snakes a hand into Dew’s gorgeous long hair and gives a small tug to adjust the angle and deepen the kiss. Dew wraps his arms around Swiss’ neck and the larger ghoul reaches down to grip Dew’s thighs and hoist him up to wrap small legs around his own waist. He walks them to Dew’s room, kicking the door closed once inside and breaks the kiss depositing Dew on the bed. They stare at each other for a moment. 

“You sure you wanna do this? Word is you haven't yet since you were summoned. I’m not exactly gentle,” Dew says, not trying to get out of it, just a warning. 

“You’re right, I haven’t,” Swiss confirms as he sheds his clothes. “But I want this as much as you do, firelily.”

Dew bites at his lip in contemplation, staring unabashedly as Swiss’ unfairly attractive body. 

“Ok just, do me a favour and do NOT call me that.” Swiss nods at the request, receiving a nod from Dew in return.

“Good. Now get back here,” Dew says as he shucks off his shirt and trousers before reaching for Swiss, beckoning him onto the bed.

Their lips meet again, gentler this time but just as heated. Dew snakes a hand down between them to palm Swiss through his boxers earning a whimper from the multi ghoul above him. Dew smirks into the kiss. 

“Didn't peg you for a whimpering kinda guy,” Dew chuckles, teasingly.

Swiss props himself up on his hands and knees and moves to kiss down Dew’s neck and torso. “Oh baby the pegging comes later,” He says trailing kisses and bites down the small torso underneath him. “Right now I want that cute cock in my mouth,”

Dew shudders at Swiss’ words, his mouth going a bit dry.  

“Y-you don’t want it the other way round? It is your first time after all,” Dew says shakily as Swiss pulls the fire ghoul's cock out of his underwear and begins long and slow strokes.

“Oh I'll have that pretty mouth of yours too. But I want to taste you first,” 

And before Dew can protest, Swiss' mouth is on him. Taking him all the way to the hilt on the first go. 

Dew makes a sound as if he’d gotten a swift punch to the gut, letting out a shaky groan as his hand flies to Swiss’ hair and grips tight. Gently guiding his head up and down to feel every bit of that talented tongue along his cock. Swiss moans around Dew's cock and it feels so good, almost too good.

Dew mumbles something in ghoulish, almost coming out as a whimper. 

“Wait wait wait,” Dew says, pulling Swiss off his leaking cock before he loses himself.

 “Are you sure this is your first time?” He asks incredulously. 

Swiss wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smirks, his tongue lolling out to lick at his lips. It makes Dew’s cock twitch yearning for that tongue again.

“First time topside, first time with these…human-ish bodies, yeah,” Swiss chuckles.

They hold each other's gaze for a moment, both panting heavily. Dew takes in Swiss’ appearance, mouth and chin already shining with spit, his eyes heavily lidded with lust. Dewdrop nods quickly.

“More,” He breathes out as he grips Swiss’ hair again and pushes him back down to his cock.

Swiss runs his tongue up from the base of Dew’s cock up to the tip earning a loud moan, before taking him in again and bobbing up and down. He thinks he must be doing something right because suddenly Dew has both hands on Swiss' horns and starts thrusting into his mouth letting out whimpering pained noises to match Swiss' own moans that only add to Dew's pleasure.

Suddenly Dew swears under his breath and stops, holding  Swiss’ head still and pulls out of his mouth.

“Sorry, got carried aw-”

“No keep going,” Swiss says, his voice gravely in a way that makes Dew's cock twitch.

Dew hesitates, not really wanting to ruin Swiss’ first time sucking cock by damaging his throat. Copia and Imperator would never let him hear the end of it. But the decision is made for him when Swiss uses one hand to start slowly stroking Dew’s cock again, using the other to grab his hands one by one placing them on his head and moving to hold his mouth open over the head of Dew’s cock sticking his tongue out to flick over the head teasingly. 

And how could he say no? He tightens his grip in Swiss’ hair and starts fucking his mouth at an easy pace, relishing in the feel of Swiss’ mouth hot and wet on his already leaking cock. He speeds up, unable to resist chasing his bliss in the multi ghoul’s mouth, gasping for air between every whimper and moan Swiss rings out of him. Dew feels like he might explode. Maybe firecracker is an apt nickname for him after all. 

He won’t last much longer and Swiss seems to get the hint when Dew slows down and pulls out reluctantly. 

Swiss shakes his head, “Nuh-uh. Give it to me. I want it,” he says, hands moving under Dew's legs to grip his small thighs. He doesn't even care how desperate he sounds, all he can think about is Dewdrop's perfect cock and how his cum will taste on his tongue.

Dew is panting, staring at Swiss like he’s the most beautiful creature on earth or in hell and just nods. 

Swiss gets his mouth back on Dew in a flash bobbing up and down, Dew’s hands fly to grab onto Swiss’ horns, using them as leverage to pull him down onto his cock over and over again until he feels his release getting closer and closer. He tries to warn Swiss, not wanting to catch him off guard on his first time but the sensation is too good, too much. His words fail him and all that comes out is desperate whimpers, gasps and moans.

“Please, please, please,” is all Dew can get out before his orgasm crashes through him in waves. He thrusts all the way into Swiss’ mouth and holds him there with a hand firmly on the back of Swiss’ head. Dew feels the back of the multi ghoul’s throat hit the head of his cock, and Swiss swallows. A sensation that causes another orgasm to crash through him before the first one has even subsided. Dew’s hips grind into Swiss' mouth once, twice more before he lets him up for air and the debauched look on the ghoul’s face is to die for. 

Swiss sits up on his knees and they both catch their breath for a moment before Dew lets out a low shaky groan throwing his arm over his face. “Satanas…again, you're sure this was your first time?” he asks again.

Swiss nods with a chuckle and crawls up the bed to lay next to Dew.

“I’m just naturally that good I guess,” he says with a smirk and a shrug. Dew rolls his eyes. 

“Shut up and kiss me,” 

Swiss obliges and Dew tastes his own release on Swiss’ tongue making his head spin a little. 

The rest of the ghouls and ghoulettes notice Swiss and Dew fighting a lot less often and even if they don't know for sure what happened to get them to get along, they’re happy that they've learned to coexist.

Mountain knows though. He smelled it on them the very next day. That was none of his business though.

[leafletonline]

cw family abuse/neglect, ableism So my grandma has Alzheimer's and our family's known that her mental health wasn't doing fantastic for a little while but today I had a long phonecall with my mom and it really hit me how cold, cruel and devoid and empathy this family is. My grandma is 91, she's a sweet little French woman that never did any harm to anyone that I know of, or that I could witness in my own lifetime. She's not too talkative but she always had a smile and a warm hug for me when she came around. She read me stories when we came to see her - I still vividly remember the tone of her voice as she soothed me to sleep. She cooked lovely meals for us and we went for a walk together in the afternoons. The fact that she has Alzheimer's is not a happy notion, but it's something that I'm somewhat at peace with - it's the unfortunate, sad reality of being 91 years old. When you have a relative *this* old, you're grateful they're still around one more day, one more week to answer the phone - you know their health is only going to decline from that point onward. When I was younger, I thought that mental illness was one of the worse things that could happen to you, which is certainly a very stock-standard brand of ableism. I thought that getting Alzheimer's or Parkinson's, or being schizophrenic, were horrible fates, arguably worse than death. (If I had known that I was *just* a pinch of neurodivergence away from being put in the same basket as these people I considered with such contempt...)

But now, I find myself terribly upset, not at the fact that my grandma has Alzheimer's, but at how terribly alone she's being made, not by her disability or advanced age, but by the people around her (or lack thereof). For years, her condition has been getting worse - it's become harder to communicate with her, to exchange and interact with her. She walled herself slowly, but steadily in silence and soliloquy, and for many years my family (my parents, my grandpa, and my various aunts and uncles) chalked it up to her being hard of hearing and "just getting old". She spent the better part of the last 20 years living on her own with my grandpa, occasionally receiving a visit from family, but not being particularly active physically or intellectually aside from that. And now that her disability has progressed to the point where she can't function anymore, now that she's lost in a permanent out-of-context monologue and she's confusing the Scrabble board for a crossword grid and trying to melt whole sticks of butter in the microwave (both of these things actually happened and I don't think there's anything funny about either), the only response that seems to exist for my family is to institutionalize her. For the last 2 decades, the Responsible Adults in this family made little to no effort to actually make sure that her mental health was good, that she was cognitively engaged and kept active (things that are terribly important to maintain as people grow older, especially when they're at risk of Alzheimer's and similar disabilities) - but after leaving her to her own devices for so long with so little help and support, and so little efforts being made, suddenly, she's a burden that Just Can't Be Handled anymore and she needs to be sent to rot away. Every single component of this family leaves relatively far away from one another - we're spread across like, 4 or 5 different regions of France. In hindsight, I find it astounding that, even though there was no Bad Blood in our family between my grandparents and their children (they all get along and love each other! You'd think it'd be something rare enough to cherish!!), no efforts were made by my parents, aunts & uncles to make sure *someone* would be around my grandparents as they settle into old age, making sure to check on them a couple times or at least once a week, especially considering that some of my aunts & uncles bought some random property in the middle of nowhere when they retired. My family had every opportunity to get closer and extend solidarity, and create an environment where things like getting Alzheimer's or just experiencing the melancholy of feeling old and lonely and isolated (which is something my grandpa told me about many times during phonecalls) could be helped with by being surrounded with at least one or two attentionate family members.

Now that grandma is very, very visibly disabled, the prospect of welcoming her into my parents' or my aunts' homes seems like it'll never seriously be put on the table. My grandma's getting easily confused and startled and she seems to often think that other people are plotting against her, which my mom chalks up to mental illness, and which I'd personally be prone to at least partially blame on how conflictual everyone around here is being constantly. My mom told me that grandma threw stuff at her when they played Scrabble. I asked her why, and she told me that it was because Grandma kept "playing the game wrong" and she, mom, kept trying to correct her and eventually took her pen away from her. Can you imagine how humiliating and mortifying it must feel to have your things snatched away from you by your own daughter as she's scolding you on how to "do things correctly" but in your mind, you were playing a completely different game and you just have no idea what she's talking about? There doesn't seem to be any kindness, any patience around her. Grandpa constanlty bickers and argues with her and it seems like she's constantly corrected and snapped at like a disobedient, turbulent child. She doesn't want to go to medical appointments or to leave her home, so the solution for my family is just to institutionalize her. They fail to see how, in achieving the exact two things she *doesn't* want done to her and that she has vocally and explicitly demanded not to be done to her, they might just condemn her to a miserable, terrifying and infinitely lonely end. She said that she didn't want to leave, so they're not going to welcome her into their own homes, because "that's not what she wants" - but they think it's perfectly fine to institutionalize her by force. If you're going to pluck her away from her own home without her consent (which, in all fairness, *might* be necessary because Grandpa is 100% unfit to help if she accidentally harms herself or gets herself into danger, which is unfortunately possible, and my family doesn't seem to realize or want to consider that there are at-home helping medical assistance support systems that exist in France for these specific situations), wouldn't it be infinitely better if she was surrounded in familiar faces, instead of total strangers and medical personnel that'll rule her daily activities and decide what she gets to do for her? "But she might hurt herself, she could set fire to the house". She's a small, elderly woman. Put the cutlery and potentially dangerous stuff on the top shelves and lock them with a key. I could do that easily and your house is literally 7x the size of my apartment. "She could get herself lost." Just lock the door and go out with her when she wants to go for a walk. You're retired and you literally spend your entire day at home playing with your grandson. You have nothing else to do with your time. She's 91. For you, it's only a few weeks or months of inconvenience. For her, it's all she has left. All she has left in the confused, foggy, crumbling tower of her mind is the difference between being surrounded in loved ones, hearing voices, seeing faces that she knows to be warm and kind to her heart, or being locked in a shithole with complete strangers where she'll get Covid and probably die in a matter of months, stranded on a cold, dark rain-battered island. How little fucking room do you have to have in your heart to even consider the second option when you have all the commodities around you for the first one to be, *at worse*, at temporary annoyance - if really you can't stand having a confused old woman around and stopped harboring any love in your heart for her once she became classified as a Crazy Woman?

I'm just so upset. It's unfair. She hasn't done anything to deserve this. She doesn't have the black plague, she's not going to bite your ear off. You couldn't be bothered to check on her more than a couple times per year and now that she can't keep care of herself anymore, you won't even afford her the decency of a peaceful end. I feel extremely powerless - I've been calling them very regularly, but I don't have the money to change anything to this situation, and we physically can't welcome her in our cramped 3rd-floor apartment. Besides calling her every single fucking day so she at least has someone to talk to that won't yell at her the second she goes off-script, someone that addresses her with kindness. If you have relatives in your life that you love and that were good to you, make sure you're around for them as they get older if you can. Don't leave them alone to dry.

[lilo-snm]

🍄- “The Autumn System” was Equinox’s idea from back when he was still around. It was mainly based off of the overall color scheme of everyone we knew in headspace at that time, plus the body’s favorite season.

👾- “CHEESE KNIFE, MOTHERFUCKERS!” -Gary, who then proceeds to yeet a butter knife with cheese on it into front in the innerworld

🎉- Don’t have any in-system holidays, but we really enjoy Halloween. Some of our peeps like to help make costumes for the littles so that they can dress up as whatever they want heh

🌙- We do have a handful of subsystems

☕️- It depends. Sometimes it’ll be like a slow gradient of one person into the other, other times it happens in a blink. And then sometimes, it takes several minutes of staring into the fucking abyss waiting for our brain to stop buffering worse than an old Windows desktop with 30 tabs open and reloading-

💫- Most of us all enjoy art or music to any extent; whether that be taking in either of them or producing either.

💾- Upwards of 170 at this rate.

👻- They do. A handful have accents, and then some have different speaking patterns. We all have pretty distinct voices though. Some sound similar to one another though, generally because they took on aspects of the body’s voice.

🎨- Abbbbsolutely yes. It’s incredibly inconsistent, but we do have several peeps in here that enjoy it.

🥀- Decently easily. It’s slowed a bit recently, but we do tend to split easily in response to stress.

🦖- Incredibly fictive-heavy.

🎵- Uhhhh a couple do, come to think of it. Numb Little Bug by Em Beihold, and then Time Passing Through by Kaden Mackay are the most prominent two though.

❓- A decent amount. It ranges from partial, to emotional, to total, and with no indication as to what it’s gonna be until we find that we can’t remember something clearly when we need to.

🎮- Varies depending on who’s doing stuff, and whether it’s in innerworld or externally. People have managed to set up an entire-ass paintball arena in-headspace though; they host matches whenever enough people want to play.

🪐- It’s nice. The areas are easily-enough navigatable. It’s sometimes difficult to get information from one point of headspace to the other, but it’s nice. It’s not overwhelming by itself, and it never feels empty.

🍐- Yes(written by someone who is in fact a non-human alter themselves lol)

🪫- Either spend time with people we’re close with, or hole up and sleep for as long as we can within ability or reason. .. Or, yknow, some of us have interests that they enjoy that aren’t draining, and then they do that-

🌧️- Varies. We’re still getting better at finding coping mechanisms that don’t result in ‘pk;m new’

🔦- Started out with a newer alter starting to chime in with his frustrations on things that were happening in life, paired with another who just wanted to get through the situations without strife or having anyone hurt in any way. … Yeahhh, that caused some inner warring of opinion, which raised several questions for the host at the time haha—

🌟- Yep! Aster’s really good at essays, and Kris is good at just scribbling down notes—which we have a tendency to overthink doing since half of us try to factor in whether or not anyone else insys will be able to understand the notes. Kris just.. does not care phf

🌊- Sort of shifts around in groups! Currently it’s me, the Yaelokre peeps we have, and then Vesper and a few others from CoD.

🎁- Me personally, no, but Val and Graves stumbled across a dog shirt in the store one day and decided that Alex would freaking love it(he did. He adopted it into headspace the same day they showed it to him)

☘️- Usually any current interest that we’re having.

💬- Recently found out there’s another void UNDERNEATH the main void level in headspace. It has henceforth been dubbed “the basement”

-Ceres 4.11.2024

system ask meme

🍄 - how did you get your system name?

👾 - funniest out of context system quote?

🎉 - favorite system holiday?

🌙 - do you have subsystems?

☕ - what is switching like for you?

💫 - are there any hobbies you all have?

💾 - what's your headcount?

👻 - do your alters/headmates have different voices or speech patterns?

🎨 - does anyone in your system like art?

🥀 - how easily does the system split?

🦖 - is your system fictive-heavy? factive-heavy? neutral?

🎵 - what songs remind you of your alters/headmates?

❓ - how much amnesia do you experience?

🎮 - what do your alters/headmates do in their free time?

🪐 - what is headspace like for you?

🍐 - are there any non-human alters/headmates?

🪫 - what do you all do to recharge?

🌧️ - how does the system cope with stress?

🔦 - how did you discover your system?

🌟 - do any alters help out with school/work?

🌊 - who are your frequent fronters?

🎁 - have you ever bought your alters/headmates things?

☘️ - what are your introjects/fictives usually sourced from?

💬 - free space!! tell me about something!

[theprivatearchives]

19th August 2021

clip of Wilbur talking about/singing Dream's new song

I just.... Wilbur's high voice on this is so wonderful. and he says he's listened to the whole song heaps of times and likes it?! dude, I don't need you to tell me I should be hyped... it sounds awesome!

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Whenever I get down, comparing failing young adult me to young adult Karl and thinking "man, he's fine with buying cars and having people stay at his house and doing all these responsible things etc." I can always remember that he didn't know how to turn his microwave on. XD

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ngl, I'm secretly glad Sap burnt the butter because the amount of times I've done that is atrocious XD

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if you literally never use your oven, do you only ever eat takeaway or something? I've been living on my own and I eat and cook like a lazy young adult living on their own lol but that means I use the oven pretty often for things like pies and pasties and chips and so on.

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dude, walt is just built different lol

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"You guys are forgetting, I'm not a real adult... I have more YuGiOh cards here than stuff you can actually eat... I have bayblades and YuGiOh cards instead of milk and eggs. BUT, which one's more fun...?"

I need to compile my relatable gen z streamer quotes into one place and just update it from there...

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somebody help... why have I started liking sapnap more than karl at certain times and about certain things...? aaargh! XD It's just this cooking stream. This isn't a permanent thing. We'll see.

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"Eww! There's blood on this thing! Actually though, there's like blood coming out... Yo, meat's disgusting.

There's like blood in this thing... We really eat this? Jeepers. I might be a vegetarian. Except for sushi."

This is Karl. This is also me.

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Hero Walt... please can it be a fanfic? LOL

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This might seem kinda random, but I think PUNZ would be an awesome customized numberplate.

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I think it's cute how Sap is genuinely trying to cook something okay and do it right.

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Can't believe I'm still watching this cooking stream haha... how long is it???

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Three men in a room... I would have expected /one/ of them to want meat properly cooked through... But nah, they're all down for some raw red meat. Pretty eww imo, lol.

----

Oh, fair enough about the microwave... I just realised it was some smart tech exhaust fan too.

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How tf is Sapnap only 20

----

----

Just had a thought... So, we know how c!dream has been in prison and all... Well I think I would really like to see this: Quackity's torture and negative comments and all that actually get to Dream. Not just to the point of, "oh, I'll go along with what big Q says to save myself from the pain," which we've seen, but to the point where he takes on board the negativity and starts to agree with it to an extent. Like his mind aligns itself to believe the effing trash Quackity has been feeding it every day for how long? A very long time, anyway. And he starts to actually be broken, instead of remaining the narcissistic manipulator that his character normally is. Like, at first, in the prison, Dream was still that person. He was brash. He was selfish. He was all of that. But even just a month can set me in a totally different place mentally, let alone four or whatever. And repitition like that... It's bound to get to you eventually. Think about it... He's in a prison. A single cell. He's bored stupid. But that means he literally has too much time to think. And he can't die. And he doesn't get much outside input from anyone except Quackity who is abusive in almost every single way. I know personally, without distraction my thoughts can seriously screw me over and I'm not even in similar extremities as the situation c!dream is in. And I think I would like him to be broken and have to be fixed by his friends or at least someone else on the server. And going from one extreme position to the other side of the pendulum where Dream think of himself as /worse/ than he is, if they work through what he has actually done and what he is responsible for and not responsible for... They could potentially end up in the middle ground where Dream actually recognises his wrongdoings and doesn't try to defend them and doesn't even agree with them. I'm not advocating for extended periods, or any periods, of phsycological, emotional, and/or physical torture to bring a character around, of course, but let's make something positive come of this shitty situation perhaps?

----

Dream song premiere rn!

[ashiemochi]

admiring leon s. kennedy

EYES: Sharp cold azures that somehow still hold so much warmth and compassion, yet they look almost haunted with those tired eye bags of his. Nonetheless, a glint of sultriness makes them inescapable. As if piercing into your soul. His lashes are long, making them perfect for butterfly kisses.

LIPS: Soft pink on the side of rose, the corners seem to hold a permanent subtle smirk. When he speaks, you could pick up on a veryvery faint pout. Only if you squint but he might think you're coming onto him if you keep staring at his lips.

SKIN: Blessed and kissed by the sun, his skin Is a beautiful shade of tan. There are some cute moles scattered on his neck and about along with faintfaint freckles adorning his perfectly made nose and fading into his cheeks. A faded scar resides on his right cheekbone, similar to all the different sizes and shapes decorating his body. A particular one is a bullet wound where his left shoulder and chest meet.

FACIAL FEATURES: As if sculpted by a Greek God, Leon had sharp features that could catch anyone's attention with a glance. His stubble is kept clean and well-trimmed, nearly covering the subtle chin dimple he had. His brows are nearing the thick side but seem to be taken care of every other week.

HAIR: A 90's curtained chestnut hairstyle, it parts on the side and covers his eye and on most days, his ears. He also has a little mullet going on, making him seem like he was part of the cast for Grease. His hair is soft and if you walk by him, you will get a whiff of either lavender or cocoa butter.

PHYSIQUE: Leon is tall and buff yet lean. Anyone could tell he's well-built and trained as his shirt – specifically his jeans – don't serve him well but it adds to his charm. He's surprisingly light for his size. Leon's waist nears the slim side with his back and shoulders contrasting greatly by being broad. He never skips leg day and he's got endless stamina. His daily routine always starts with coffee and – depending on the weather – he either goes for a jog or works out at home.

STYLE: As if Leon couldn't look sexier, leather (jacket) is always a part of his day-to-day attire. His button-up shirts are never too flashy, ranging from cobalt blue to red wine to dark grey. Jeans are always a darker shade and his boots change from black to burnt oakwood brown.

Some days when he'd be going to work, he wears a suit; a simple blue blazer and pants with a white button-up shirt underneath (the first button was left untouched but on days he returns exhausted, a second and third would be unbuttoned) Though Leon seem uncomfortable with it as if annoyed, he still oozes with such high authority.

VOICE: owns the power to make babies Leon's voice is the epitome of honey whiskey. His choice of words is always on the teasing but respectful side. When he's tired, it drops an octave and becomes raspier. Leon's murmurs and whispers nearly sound like a siren trying to coax anyone to do whatever's on his mind.

When he laughs, it's a smile followed by a head tilting downward as if in disbelief as he shakes his head. Sometimes he snorts and turns the other way as if to hide his chuckles. When he laughslaughs, his head tips backwards slightly, teeth all for show and the crinkles form in the corner of his pretty eyes. He never covers his mouth when he laughs.

MISC: – Leon is always folding his arms or leaning his back against the wall as he's the laid-back kinda guy. When he feels threatened or something is up, his arms drop to his side and his shoulders square up, making him look broader. – Leon's hands are surprisingly on the soft side despite his training and missions, if not a bit calloused. – Leon's got a big dick. and he knows it.

[ilikekidsshows]

Okay, so I got an ask about whether or not I think the Tiger Miraculous would suit Adrien, but tumblr ate it before I was finished writing the response, so here it is, as a separate post.

#Let Adrien Yell 2022

Like, if I had seen 'Crocoduel' spoilers before I listed the most likely options for alternative Miraculouses for Adrien, I would have added the Tiger to the list. Roaar's Exaltation motif seems to be about self-exaltation specifically, as in asserting your own worth as a person. It's perfect. Adrien doesn't think he has a right to have opinions and preferences, let alone voice them. Roaar would be a very insistent voice telling him to do exactly that. Just like Plagg encourages Adrien to do things for himself, Roaar would encourage a more positive self-image from the get-go.

The biggest issue here is that, unlike with Juleka's parents, Roaar's approach is not likely to work with Gabriel, meaning they can't really give Adrien much advice on how to deal with his father. Adrien trying to be assertive with his father gets shut down mighty quick every time because, just like any other rich asshole who spends their days abusing their power over others, Gabriel feels that anyone questioning him is unacceptable, even when it's his own son. Especially when it's his own son, considering how Gabriel's parenting style is textbook toxic parenting when the parent thinks their child should have no opinions because they're a child and it's the job of the adult to make all decisions for them with their supposedly superior wisdom.

While Plagg and Roarr can both be quite bold when it comes to trying out new things, Roarr would be more focused on self image from the start than Plagg was. However they’re not nearly as sneaky as Plagg, being very straightforward instead. Adrien’s home situation specifically requires Adrien to be sneaky because Gabriel has so much power as both Adrien’s only guardian as well as an influential business owner. However, Adrien’s personal relationships would benefit from Adrien being more open and willing to assert himself. So far in canon, he’s mostly assertive only when someone’s wronged someone or with Marinette. A more assertive Adrien could have been less likely to allow the divide Fu built between himself and Ladybug, and he could have been more open about his problems with Nino and the rest of his friends.

However, the Kwami Compatibility posts usually aren’t meant to be studies about character arc potential, but mainly suitability for the powerset. The Tiger Miraculous works in practise in ways that are very similar to the Black Cat. The claws and the bolas are perfect to close-quarters combat, but the bolas also allows for at least mid-range combat, depending on exactly how long you can make it, since many Miraculous weapons/tools are expandable. I think Adrien could be able to fit his fighting style to use the tools provided by the Miraculous very easily.

Additionally, the special power of the Miraculous, Clout, is rather similar to Cataclysm in how it is seemingly a simple power but one that can be utilized in more ways than just the obvious one. The ability to create a shockwave can be used for more than merely knocking down an opponent, since, much like Cataclyms, it can be targeted at anything that might change the playing field to be more in the user’s favor when it’s removed from play or gets unbalanced. Shockwaves are also great for crowd control, which is Adrien’s bread and butter in the show proper. Just think of how many cops / Akuma thralls he can take out at once with that.

[nutmegalomania]

Sweet Tooth

a beelzebub x reader ff

description: a midnight snack before bed turned into more when you ran into the object of your recent sexual desires: beelzebub. Instead of sinking your teeth into a delicious snack, he devoured you instead, and it was more than you could have asked for.

ingredients: beelzebub (obey me!)/reader, gender-neutral reader, beelzebub (obey me!), smut, blow jobs, fingering, sir kink, asphyxiation, hair pulling, food play, spanking, degradation, creampie

flavor: spicy  🌶️

calories: 8,272

🥐

Your mouth stretched open, and a yawn pushed itself out as you walked out of Levi’s room towards the kitchen. Between playing games with him and Mammon texting you every five seconds asking if he could borrow money which you knew he’d blow instantly and never pay back, you were in desperate need of a deep nights sleep, but before that, your stomach beckoned you to eat something to calm the grumbling down and allow you to have a good rest in your soft bed. Tears sprung up in your eyes as another yawn hit you along with the scent of something sweet that led you deeper into the kitchen.

A large back met your droopy eyes as you dragged your feet on the floor, and you plopped down into a chair at the wooden table as you rubbed your eyes with a fist. The smell of cake mixed with peanut butter, chocolate, and fruits hit your nose—or at least things that smelled similar since your comfort foods on earth didn’t exist here in Devildom. Your stomach let out a drawn out and pathetic growl, and saliva filled your mouth at the thought of tasting whatever was cooking. You wiped the side of your mouth with the back of your hand, and leaned forward to catch a better whiff of the baked goods.

“Are you hungry as well, Y/N?” a voice asked, and you shook your head to snap yourself out of your hunger daze to see Beelzebub staring at you, his orange hair falling into his amethyst eyes as he leaned against the table to look at you, a bar of what you assumed to be chocolate in his hands, a large bite taken out of its corner. 

You blinked and leaned back at his proximity to you, your cheeks reddening as the smell of chocolate from his breath wrapped around you and mixed with his natural scent. “Uh… Y-yeah. I got a little hungry after playing with Levi so I decided to grab a little snack before I went to sleep.” You gave him an awkward chuckle and scratched the back of your head while avoiding his eyes. “The smell of whatever you’re baking made me stop though.” He took another large bite of the chocolate bar, almost all of the chocolatey goodness gone now, and you watched as he licked his lips after swallowing the food. “It-It smells good,” you said, mentally hitting yourself for honing in on his lips instead of looking him in the eyes and managing to stutter. 

You didn’t know what was wrong with you that your breath kept getting caught in your chest whenever you saw Beelzebub lick his lips after eating, but it had been happening for a few weeks now. You had been hanging out with anyone but Beelzebub to get your minds off it, whether that be playing games or talking about manga with Levi, going shopping or getting mani pedis with Asmodeus, kicking Mammon out of your room for begging to borrow money, taking naps with Belphie, reading in Satan’s room, or helping Lucifer with artifacts he’s found. Frankly, you should have known that Beelzebub would be in the kitchen, so you should have steered clear and gone straight to your room, but the hunger gnawing at your stomach won and led you to the predicament you found yourself in right now, aka trying not to grab Beelzebub by the back of his head to smash your lips against his. 

He tilted his head to the side, his hair bouncing as he smiled at you. “It does, doesn’t it? It’s almost done. When it’s finished cooking, do you want a piece? I might be willing to share if it’s you,” he said, and you nodded as your heart thrummed in your chest at his words. 

Though you didn’t tend to read too deeply into things, his words struck something in you that made you think that maybe, just maybe, he liked you even a smudge of what you felt for him. Just someone bringing his name up in conversation sent your face flushing and pulse racing, and being in his presence only worsened those symptoms. 

After you nodded, he turned away from you to take the cake out of the oven, giving you a full view of his wide back. You bit your lip as his back muscle contracted underneath his shirt, and you slapped the sides of your face to get your mind from wandering to places it shouldn’t be. Instead, you opted for looking at the steaming cake he pulled out of the oven and decorated it with swift ease, white icing dripping down the sides of the dark brown cake, red strawberries dotting the top with whip cream piped around where the fruits touched the cake. You licked your lips as the smell became stronger and hit your nose, triggering saliva to fill your mouth at the sweet, tantalizing scent. 

“Someone looks excited to see the food,” Beelzebub said, and you nodded your head so fast that he thought it would fall off.

“It’s very, very rare that you offer food to others, so I know it has to be good enough to share. It smells so good though that I’m dying to dig in. Please hurry up or I’ll die of hunger!”

“Now you know how I feel every day,” he said with a chuckle, and you groaned in agony, unable to imagine this empty feeling in your stomach lasting every single day, every waking hour. 

Your eyes remained glued to the cake as he set it down on the countertop, a knife in hand as he prepared himself to cut you a slice. The knife sank into the cake, and Beelzebub slipped it underneath the slice he cut for you before he placed it on a plate and handed it to you with a fork. After he set the knife down, he grabbed the rest of the cake and sat across from you to indulge in his food. 

Hunger gnawed at your stomach, begging for food, and you used your fork to cut off a tiny piece to eat. You brought it to your mouth, and Beelzebub watched with an intense gaze as you wrapped your lips around the cake. As it entered your mouth, you chewed it a few times and licked your lips. You just about moaned when the familiar flavor of sweet and sour strawberries hit your tongue and mixed with the whipped cream frosting and rich chocolate cake.

“It’s so good!” you said as you shoved another piece into your mouth. A glob of icing fell out of your mouth and hit the exposed skin of your chest, your baggy shirt’s collar hanging low enough that all Beelzebub had to do was lean over the table to see down your shirt. 

“I’m glad you like it,” he responded as he brought a piece up to his mouth, but his eyes widened when another blob of icing dropped onto your collar bones and trickled down.

“Where did you even get all of this stuff? I thought the Devildom didn’t have any human foods,” you said, shovelling more cake into your mouth, not caring how messy you were.

“I asked Lucifer if he’d allow a one time import of human food so I could try it once, and he surprisingly agreed.”

You nodded as you chewed, this time not hiding your satisfied moan as the sweetness of the cake spread throughout your mouth, and Beelzebub’s body tensed at the sound. The amount of thick, white icing dotted across your face with your moan made not-so-innocent thoughts run through his mind. Once you cleaned your plate of any crumbs, you licked around your mouth and sucked icing from your hands. Beelzebub set his fork down, the metal clinking against the plate, and your eyes shot up to look at him. 

He leaned over the table, and you stared at him with wide eyes, warning sirens blaring at full volume inside your head. From how close he was, his body heat reached you, and you wanted nothing more than to climb on top of the table and push your body against his. His scent that always made you light headed and five seconds away from pouncing on him wrapped its musky fingers around you and trapped you in its grasp. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, and before you could get out a single sound, his face was centimeters from yours. The sweet, tantalizing smell of his breath fanned across your face, and your eyes honed in on his lips.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he ground out, and you shot your eyes up to look into his. 

“W-What do you mean?” you asked while your heart pounded in your chest and body heated up from the look in his eyes.

In response, he took a finger, dipped it down to where the collar of your shirt ended, and swiped up a glob of icing from your skin. You shuddered when the rough pad of his finger grazed you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from following his finger as he brought it to his mouth and slipped it inside, his tongue wrapping around the digit to lick the icing clean off. You squeezed your thighs together as he looked into your eyes the whole time, a burning fire of desire lit behind his purple irises.

“You shouldn’t waste food,” he said, voice deep and husky as it puffed across your face, and you breathed in the chocolate scent of his breath. 

Your throat felt thick as you gulped, eyes unable to look away from his lust-filled ones. Instead, your body instinctively leaned forward until your lips remained a hair from his. Air escaped you and fanned against his mouth, and his tongue snuck out to swipe along his bottom lip, the touch of his tongue ghosting over your soft lips. Shivers ran down your spine, goosebumps popping up on your skin, and your body begged for more of his touch.

The two of you stared at each other in silence, your eyes fixating on the other’s lips, and you snaked a hand behind his neck to tangle your fingers through his orange hair. He shuddered when your fingernails grazed the skin of his nape, and you sucked in a deep breath as you curled your digits in his locks and tugged his head back to see his reaction. The deep groan that escaped his mouth rumbled in your core, and your thighs squeezed together, arousal burning deep inside. 

His amethyst eyes peered down at you, lips parted, and you licked your lips when his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. Your chair scraped against the floor as you pushed it back and climbed onto the table, the wood digging into your exposed legs while you slid the cake away from underneath you two, and Beel’s tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth as a heavy breath pushed past his lips. Lust swam in your hooded eyes as you locked eyes with him, his eyes telling you all you needed to know. He was ready to fuck you up. 

A soft tug to his hair pulled his head to the side, exposing his neck to your hungry eyes, and desire burned in your veins and spurred you on to latch your slick lips to his smooth skin. A content sigh tickled his neck as the taste of his skin melted on your tongue, the salty taste from the thin sheen of sweat coating his neck addicting you to him. You dragged your tongue over the muscles in his neck, stopping as you ran it over his Adam’s apple, and your teeth nipped at the skin beneath his Adam’s apple, red splotches staining his skin. He hummed, the vibrations stimulating your lips against his skin, and you tightened your finger in his hair. 

His large hands slid underneath your thighs to pull you into a sitting position in front of him, your legs dangling on either side of his hips, and he pressed his pelvis into you. Your lips detached from his neck as you threw your head back to let out a quiet moan as his clothed cock pressed against your lower half. The size of it from behind his clothing left your mouth drying and heart rate quickening, and your throat bobbed. You needed him inside now.

“Beel…” you breathed out, and he hummed in acknowledgement as his hands slid to your ass to press your lower half flush against his, and your body jerked when he rocked his hips forward, rubbing against your arousal and slicking your underwear through your shorts. He peppered wet kisses against your jaw, his tongue slither out to lap at the perspiration forming on your skin, and you whimpered and slid your hand from his hair to grip his shoulder. Your nails dug into his back, and he hissed in pain against your neck, though he didn’t stop swiping his tongue along your skin and nipping to leave his mark. Your toes curled, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your ankles to pull his cock flush against you. “Fuck… I-I want you to fuck me now.” 

Your unwavering eyes that begged for him to fuck you senseless made his cock twitch in his pants, and he rested his forehead against your shoulder, the last shred of sanity he had ready to snap. The grip on your ass tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh when impatience filled your body and urged your body to grind against his clothed erection. The friction of your clothes rubbing against you left high-pitched mewls slipping from your red lips, and he groaned against your shoulder.

“If you keep doing that, Y/N, I don’t know what I’ll do,” he said, and you tugged his head back to bite your lip at him, taunting him with your eyes.

“I don’t mind.” Your arms slithered behind his neck as you pulled your face closer to his, the tip of your nose pressing against his. “Make a mess of me, Beel,” you said, and the sweet scent of strawberries lingering in your breath invaded his nose and muddled his brain, your words taking a few moments to register in his mind.

“Shit…” he said once the words processed, and he wasted no time in slamming your back against the table, a large hand gripping your wrists to hold them above your head. The wood digging into your back and the tight hold on your wrists burned in your core, your arousal increasing as you moaned. His head dipped down to your shoulders, his tongue pressing against your collar bones. You had dreamed of being roughed up by Beel, and now that it was happening, your body couldn’t take how much you loved it.

“Rougher,” you said, and he groaned against your neck. His hot, damp breath burned against your skin, and your fingernails dug into your palm to control yourself. “Slap me. Pull my hair. Make me your bitch!” 

His hands around your wrists tightened, and your back arched as the burning pain spread through your body and made arousal spill from your lower half. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he said, and a hand slid underneath your shirt, the calluses on his fingers scraping against your skin as his hand crawled up to your nipples. 

A shuddering gasp dissipated into the air from your lips as his fingers pinched your nipple and yanked on it, your back arching and legs trembling around his waist. He grinded against you as his teeth sank into your trapezius, fingers still twisting, pinching, and yanking on your nipples. Curses spilled from your lips as searing pain flared up in your shoulder and chest. 

“More!” 

His hand on your nipple retracted and reached up to grab your hair. He yanked it back, your scalp screaming in pain, and you winced as you stared into his purple eyes.

“Don’t get greedy, bitch. On your knees. Now.”

You didn’t need to be told twice as your body twitched in pleasure from his degrading words and commands, and you unhooked your ankles to slide from of his grasp on your wrists to sink to your knees on the ground in front of the table. Beel turned around and leaned against the table, the outline of his cock free for your hungry eyes to take in. You crawled towards him on your hands and knees, your legs burning from the hard floor, but before you could run your hands over his bulge, he grabbed something from the table and held it up. A bottle of chocolate syrup.

“Why don’t we have a little fun?” he asked, lips curling into a smirk as your mouth went dry. You nodded, and he sat on the table, spreading his legs. “Pour this on me.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, slotting your body between his legs as you propped yourself up on your knees and rested your hands on his hard thighs. 

He shoved the bottle of chocolate syrup into your hands, and your mind whirred with ideas of what to do. An image of the dark liquid dripping down his stomach for your tongue to lap up popped up, and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. Your hand slid underneath his shirt and ran over his abs, the muscles tensing beneath your soft touch, and you rubbed over his hard chest before dragging your hands back down to the edge of his shirt, loving the way his body trembled beneath your hand. He groaned at your touch, eyes closing as his head rolled back, and when you tugged at the hem of his shirt, he peered down at your face and chuckled.

“You sure are eager,” he said as he took in your glistening red lips and hooded eyes that begged for his cock. 

His muscles rippled as he gripped the edge of his shirt and yanked it over his head to discard off to the side. Your eyes dragged over his body, and you brought the bottle of chocolate syrup up once you popped open the cap. Your hand tightened around it, and a stream of dark liquid poured out and trickled down his chest. The syrup dipped down into his abs, and before it could reach the waistband of his pants, your tongue stopped it. The sweet, chocolatey taste of the syrup mixed with his sweat to create a tantalizing new flavor on your tongue better and more addicting than any drug. 

 A needy sigh hit his skin as you ran your tongue up the sauce running down his body, bottle of chocolate syrup on the chair next to you, hands running up and down his sides. You stood to your feet as your tongue trailed up to his chest, fingernails scratching his sides, and your head craned down as you swirled your tongue around his nipple to get every last drop of chocolate off of his body. You looked up at him as you lapped a streak of sauce from his chest. He groaned, and a hand snaked up to grip your hair. He yanked your head back once you licked the last drop of sauce from his chest, and your tongue stuck out as a breathy chuckle left your open mouth, hands resting on his thighs.

“Good, bitch. Here’s your reward,” he said, and he pushed his face towards yours, his tongue rubbing against yours as he pushed it inside your mouth. 

He swallowed a surprised whimper escaping your mouth, his tongue circling yours, and your body trembled when he sucked on your tongue, the wet sounds echoing in your head and muddling your thoughts. His grip on your hair and the warmth of his tongue running along your teeth and prodding inside your mouth stole all your attention and made it impossible to think of anything else. The chocolate on your tongue mingled with the sweet icing and strawberries on his, but you couldn’t focus on it as you dug your fingers into his thighs, your nails sinking into the cloth of his pants. He let out a pained grunt into your mouth, hand tightening around your hair.

His lips pressed into your abused ones in a heated, open-mouth kiss as he yanked your head back, and a shaky breath slipped from your mouth as searing pain shot up on your scalp. The pain traveled through your body in a burning sensation that brought forth a wave of desire that his soft, warm lips dancing against yours only served to worsen. His teeth sank into your bottom lip, and your body flinched. He pulled back from your face and tugged on your bottom lip as your chest heaved up and down.

His fisted your hair tighter, and his free hand snaked up your torso, grazing your hardened nipples to clutch your jaw as his teeth released your lip. The pad of his thumb pressed into your jaw, and you pursed your lips at the dull pain echoing in your face. He turned your face over, watching with mild amusement as you let your head follow his guidance, and his large hand let go of your jaw to slide down to your neck.

Before you could react, his fingers dug into the side of your neck, and his lips slammed into yours again. Your head felt light as oxygen flow to your brain cut off, all thoughts flying out of your mind, and his tongue curled inside your mouth to run across the roof of your mouth.   Your hands on his thighs fumbled around as your lungs and head begged for air, but the enticing burning sensation left you wanting nothing more than for his hand to stay around your throat as he tongue-fucked your mouth. Your eyes rolled back in your head, and right before darkness took over, he detached his hand from your throat and pulled away from your lips. 

“Fuck!” you cursed, a deep, broken breath rubbing your throat raw as you gasped for air. As oxygen reached your brain and allowed you to think again, you licked your lips as a tempting thought came to mind.  “I wanna suck you off, sir…. Please,” you whimpered as your hands ran over his erection, the warmth seeping into your hands through his clothing. “I need your cock in my mouth.”

His eyes fluttered back, the whites exposed to you, as he tilted his head back, and a guttural groan kissed your ears and set ablaze a burning desire in your lower half. Your hands climbed up to his abs, the muscles contracting beneath your touch as you glided your palms against his warm skin, and you leaned in towards his neck to press wet kisses to his throat. As you trailed the kisses lower and lower on his body, his hands gripped your ass and squeezed it, an aching whine escaping your lips and fanning against his skin as his fingers dug into your clothed ass and pulled at the flesh. You pressed your ass back against his hands as he massaged it between his digits, and a needy mewl released itself from your throat when he delivered a slap to your cheeks, the flesh bouncing before he grabbed it again in a vice grip. 

Your fingernails scratched against his stomach and left red marks as the pressure against your ass cheeks moved to your waist, his large hands pressing into the dips in your waist, and your lips trailed down to his chest. You looked up at him as your tongue rolled his nipple around on your tongue, and when his eyes locked with yours, you let out a breathy laugh and wrapped your lips around his nipple, teeth nipping the bud, before you moved down to his abs. Your knees sunk to the kitchen floor, hands on the waistband of his pants as you traced the outline of his stomach muscles with your tongue.

A hand moved to run through your hair as you licked his stomach, and the other reached over to grab the bottle of chocolate syrup from the chair. As your hands slipped underneath his pants, he tugged your head back, your tongue sticking out, and he squeezed a stream of chocolate onto your tongue. The brown liquid trickled down your tongue into your throat, and you swallowed, the chocolate disappearing from the flat of your tongue, and stuck it back out. 

“Good, bitch,” he said in a rasp, and you wasted no time in tugging his waistband down to let his erection spring free. 

You gasped when it hit you in the side of the face, the size of it bigger than your mind ever imagined, and your underwear felt even wetter than before. This was really happening. You were about to put his cock in your mouth. 

He chuckled as your wide eyes stared at the red tip of his erect cock, the deep huskiness of the sound shaking you to your core. All of a sudden, a stream of chocolate syrup hit the head of his dick and dripped down his shaft to rest on his balls. Your tongue swiped across your lip, slicking the plump flesh as you mentally prepared yourself to take him into your mouth. The chocolate glistened in the lighting of the kitchen and begged for your tongue to lap it off of his pulsating erection.

A shaky hand reached out to rest underneath his balls, the chocolate syrup running down onto your hand as you brought your face closer to his tip. Your throat bobbed as you gulped, ready to test your gag reflex on his length, and you pressed a kiss to his red tip. Chocolate coated your lips, the bitter taste of his precum blending with it and making you wince. Had it not been for the deep sigh he let out when you kissed the head of his cock and the way his hand tightened in your hair, you would have been hesitant to go further.

Your lips wrapped back around his head to suck the chocolate off of it and ignored the slight bitter taste of it as your lips wandered down his length, stopping to press sloppy kisses against his dick to remove the chocolate syrup. You reached the crevice between his balls and the base of his dick and peppered kisses against it as your left hand on his balls gently massaged the flesh, your right hand circling around his shaft. As you lapped at the liquid around the base of his cock, sometimes running your tongue across the creases on his balls, your right hand tugging at his length. 

Your thumb pressed into his slit, a sharp hiss leaving his lips, and you rolled the pad of your thumb around his head to slick it up with his precum. You hummed against his cock and balls, and his grip in your hair pulled at your roots as he tightened his hand. Once you had spread his precum, the bitter liquid mingling with the leftover chocolate syrup on his skin, you twisted your wrist around his head and worked your way down his shaft as you returned to sucking at the base of his dick, nipping softly to leave love bites on his tan skin. 

“Put it in your mouth, whore,” he ground out, and your throat went dry as his strained, rough voice went straight to your core, your thighs squeezing together to hide the wetness between your legs. 

You ran your hand along the length of his shaft before resting it at the base and pulling your lips free from his warm, chocolate-covered skin to press them against his head once more. Your right hand gripped his base, your left supporting his balls, and you took a deep breath before wrapping your lips around his head. His warmth spread across the flat of your tongue as his dick inched farther inside your mouth. To accommodate his size, you relaxed your jaw and your throat as he invaded the heat of your throat. Before you reached half of his length, the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, and you gagged around it, your throat closing on his head and trying to force it out.

“Watch your teeth,” he said when your mouth tried to instinctively close around him, and you looked up at him with teary eyes as you forced your throat to adjust to his size. He sighed as your right hand twisted around his base, shaking rapidly to send vibrations through his length while you readied yourself to take him in more. 

With a deep breath through your nose, you pushed your head farther down his length, and your grip on his balls and shaft tightened for a second as his tip slid down your throat. Your throat bulged as you took him in, and you forgot to breathe when you slid down to his base. As your nose pressed against his pelvis, he tapped your cheek with his hand to remind you to breathe, and your hands moved to grip his thighs and dig into his flesh as you took a deep breath through your nose. You whined around his length in your mouth, and he threw his head back.

“Yeah, just like that, slut. Take it nice and slow for now.”

His encouraging words lit a fire inside you, and you dragged your mouth up his length, reaching halfway, before shoving your head back down onto him. A wet gagging sound reached your ears as he slid fully into your throat, but when he grunted and adjusted his hands in your hair to move it out of your face, you didn’t care about your gag reflex and only wanted to make him cum. 

You rocked your head forward on his cock, sucking as you tilted your head to the side and took him inside your mouth at a consistent pace. Your tongue traced the large, bulging being on his cock, smirking around his dick when his body twitched under your tongue. A moan vibrated against his length as you dragged your head up his shaft to press the tip of your tongue against his frenulum. 

“Fuck!” he cursed, hands gripping the back of your head as you flitted your tongue back and forth over the sensitive spot beneath his tip, and he pushed your head down onto his length once more, his cock sliding fully into your mouth and resting on your tongue. You gagged around him, but you relaxed your jaw and let him rest in your throat.

He held your head down on his length, and you breathed through your nose as your throat closed around him, hands clutching his thighs. You pressed the flat of your tongue against his length, the last smearing of chocolate on his cock disappearing on your taste buds. His head fell back, and his hand holding your head on his dick loosened. You dragged your head off of his cock as his hand dropped from your head, swirling your tongue around his tip and sucking on his slit. As you detached your lips from him and sat back on your knees, he gripped his cock in his hand and twisted his wrist around his length.

“Fuck, I want you to cum in my mouth, sir. Give it to me. I’ve been a good slut,” you said, eyes trained on his hands violently jerking up and down his shaft. The heavy, guttural grunts leaving him warned you of his oncoming orgasm, and you stuck your tongue out, ready for his thick, hot cum to shoot onto it. 

“Shit…” he cursed, and you scooted closer to his pulsating cock as it twitched in his hands.

You cupped his balls in your hands and rested the tip of his dick against the flat of your tongue, and his cock bulged in his hands before he released onto your tongue with a rough, drawn-out moan, his hot liquid trickling down your tongue when you swallowed all of it and lapped at the white cum that spilled from his slit. The bitter liquid made you cringe, but knowing it was Beel’s, you didn’t care and made sure not to waste a drop as your tongue ran along his shaft to lick up any that trickled down. As you dragged your tongue up his length to get all the cum and leftover chocolate from his skin, your eyes bore into his with a burning flame of lust. His tongue poked out to swipe along his bottom lip, and his teeth snagged the flesh as the flat of your tongue rubbed against him.   

“Get on the table and spread your legs,” he said, and the rough, filthy growl with which the words left his saliva-slicked lips had you obeying in an instant. You licked your lips as you settled yourself onto your back and opened your legs, exposing your pulsating entrance to his hungry eyes. “Fuck…” he breathed out as you used two fingers to spread open your hole for him to see your pink walls.

He trailed a finger from the base of your opening to the top, loving the way your body shuddered beneath his calloused touch. Your hands gripped your thighs as you pulled your legs back towards your chest, giving him full access to your wet, needy opening. The tip of his fingers swirled your arousal around your hole, slicking up his digits, and he spread you open. His cock twitched when you whined in annoyance, wanting his fingers inside you already, and he chuckled.

“Desperate whore,” he said. “I’ll give you what you wanted.”

You bit your lip and giggled, eyes rolling back in your head and mouth opening in a silent moan as he pushed his middle finger inside of your warm walls. The presence of his finger inside made you clench around it, and you rolled your hips as he pumped the finger in and out of you. When he curled his finger inside of you and scraped the calloused pads of his digit against your walls, your legs trembled and threatened to escape your grasp. 

“Just like that!” you said, whining as he complied and curled his finger again, pressing into your walls and dragging it along it. 

“You like that?” he said, and you nodded your head, teeth tugging on your bottom lip. He slapped your thigh, and you moaned. “Use your words, bitch.”

“Yes! I love it! More, sir.” 

“Good bitch,” he said, slapping your ass as he inserted another finger. 

You gasped as your walls stretched around the two fingers inside of you, and your head rolled back against the wooden table. He licked his lips, an idea twinkling in his hooded eyes, and your body tensed in anticipation.

He pulled your shirt up to expose your chest to his eyes. “Bite it,” he told you, and your teeth sank into the hem of your shirt without a word. 

Your pupils trailed after him as he reached over to the side, his arm flexing, and grabbed your unfinished slice of cake. The food sat on the white plate, and before you could question why he held it in his hand, he tilted the plate and let the slice fall onto your stomach. 

While he thrusted his fingers into you, he used his other hand to smash the cake against your stomach and smear it onto your skin. His tongue poked out to slowly lick up the cake coating his hand, and the lustful look in his hooded eyes left your hips jutting in the air. He shoved his cake-coated fingers into his mouth, tongue rolling around each digit with care to get everything off of it before he retracted them from his mouth to push your hips back down to the table. Your back rested against the wood, and he bent down to kiss your stomach, a shaky breath exhaling from your nose.

His tongue pressed against your stomach, licking the icing from your skin as his eyes bore right into yours. Your breath caught in your throat, and he closed his eyes as he panted against you, tongue swirling around your body. You rolled your hips when his fingers pressed against the top of your walls, tongue still dancing on your skin. Little by little, the white icing smeared on you disappeared as the sweetness melted against his tongue.

“Fuck, it taste so good on you,” he moaned while he pumped his fingers inside you, his other hand trailing up your side to run over your chest. His hand stopped to pinch your nipple and tug at it, watching as you arched your back and whined through your shirt in your mouth, and he chuckled against you, his hot breath hitting your skin and making your stomach tense. “Such a waste that you couldn’t finish your slice of cake, but it tasted better on you anyways.”

You dropped the hem of your shirt in your mouth, the cloth sticking to your sweat coated chest, and he sucked at your skin, nipping and relishing in the hisses you let out as he left red splotches on you.

“Who said you could drop your shirt, whore?” he asked, and he pulled away from your stomach. His hand circled around your throat, and you clutched at his wrist as airflow cut off. You gasped around his grip as his fingers thrusted into you at an erratic pace. The tips of his fingers jabbed into your soft, wet walls, and the pain from his digits abusing your walls mixing with your lightheadedness brought your high closer. 

“Cum… cumming,” you choked out as your lower body tensed and the pool of heat in you spilled over. 

His fingers kept moving in and out of you, not changing pace or depth as he helped you chase your orgasm, and you threw your head against the table, back arching as a choked moan left you, legs shaking and hole clenching around his fingers. He pumped his digits in you for you to ride out your orgasm, and as you whined from overstimulation, you moved your hands from his wrist around your throat to his hand between your legs to pull it away from your walls. The hand around your throat disappeared, and he leaned over you, his sweet breath puffing against your face as you looked him in the eyes.

“You’re so wet. Aren’t you naughty?” he ground out in your ear as he slipped his fingers out of you, a string of your juices connecting the tips of his digits to your hole. The huskiness in his voice reverberated through your body, and you rolled your head to the side to give him a sly look out of the corner of your eyes.

“Just for you, sir.” You rolled your hips and pressed his hands harder against you. “Please fuck me now.” The sharp inhale from him made your entrance clench as confidence coursed through you. It made you proud to know you were able to have an effect on him and make him as crazy as he was making you.

“On your hands and knees. Now.”

In an instant, you flipped yourself over and pushed your ass into the air for him, bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you waited for his cock to enter you. He slid closer to you, pushing the chairs out of his way, and his fingers slipped back inside you. A broken moan left you as he curled his digits inside you, his fingernails scraping against your walls, and your legs trembled as your arms gave out and left your upper body leaning on the table.

“Give me your cock now, sir. I want it in my hole. Fucking abuse me—I can take it,” you begged against the table, the wood pressing into the side of your face as his fingers slid out of your wet hole and left you clenching around nothing.

A slap to your ass jolted your body, and you threw your head back to moan at the stinging pain spreading through your skin. He grabbed your hair, shoving your face into the table before he yanked it back to lean into your ear. Your neck ached from the way he craned it, but you let out desperate pants in anticipation for what he would do to you.

“Don’t tell me what to do, bitch. I’ll fuck you how I want to, and you’ll take it,” Beel growled into your ear, his hot breath hitting the side of your face, and you pushed yourself back onto him.

“Yes, sir. I’m just a hole for your cock. Use me,” you said in between heavy pants, and your voice turned into a whine near the end of your words as your entrance clenched, ready for him to enter and mess you up.

The palm of his hand slapped your ass once more, your body twitching at the impact before he gripped it between his fingers and spread it apart. His other hand released your hair and gripped his cock to press the tip of it to your entrance, and he ran it around your hole, chuckling as you tried to push yourself against it to get it inside of you.

“You’re like a bitch in heat,” he said, and you bit your lip to hold in a cut-off whine, your head still thrown back. “Fine, I’ll give you what you want so badly.” Without another word, his dick entered your hole, and your body jerked forward at the sudden action.

“Oh, fuck yes! Shove it all in! Yes, yes, yes!” you cried out as your walls spread when he pushed inside you. Your mouth hung open in a silent moan as his length rubbed against your walls before a long, drawn-out, and filthy moan pushed its way out. The loud noise echoed in the silent kitchen. 

“Not so loud, slut,” he told you, a hand snaking around your throat to hold it as his digits dug into your throat.

You choked as his fingers curled around the sides of your neck and squeezed your throat shut for a second. As you coughed on your saliva, his hips rolled forward, pressing his dick farther inside of you slowly as he let you adjust to his size. Your coughs turned into surprised gasps as your hole burned from his cock forcing it open. 

“Yes… Abuse my tight hole with your large cock, sir,” you choked out, throat scratchy from his hold, and the lack of oxygen to your brain and lungs made your thoughts hazy as words slipped from your lips in incomprehensible babbles. 

“Don’t egg me on, whore. If you do, I’ll make it so that you can’t walk,” he growled into your ear, and shallow pants left you.

“Do it, sir. Fuck me so hard that I’ll be walking sideways for a month!” you said through a gasp, and the pads of his fingers dug into the side of your neck more, his other hand slapping your ass and watching it jiggle from the impact.

“You asked for it, bitch,” he said, and he pulled his cock out until only his head remained inside of you. Before a complaint could slip from your tongue, he snapped his hips and thrusted his full length inside of you, his head prodding a bundle of nerves deep in your walls that shook your body.

You moaned, the noise cut off from his hand around your throat, and more whiny sounds spilled from your lips as he continued to slam inside of you. Your ass jiggled each time he slammed fully inside you and pressed his pelvis flush against you, and the sound of skin slapping created a symphony in your ears with your moans and his grunts. Each thrust from him burned your entrance and pricked your insides, but the pain mingled with your lack of oxygen to produce a dull pleasure in your body that you couldn’t get enough of. 

You lost yourself in the pleasure as he abused your hole, using you like his own little slut as he chased his orgasm, and your walls cried out from the pain and pleasure his cock gave you. With each snap of his hips, his cock nestled farther inside of you and hit all the spots on your walls. You pushed yourself back onto his cock to meet his thrusts, loving the way it pushed his cock even deeper into you than before, and he raised his other hand to deliver a hard slap to your ass.

“You’re so fucking needy, aren’t you, slut?” he drawled, rubbing your reddening skin. He yanked your head back by your throat, a strangled gasp leaving you, and his hand loosened to grip your jaw as he leaned down to your ear. “Who said you could fuck yourself against my cock?”

“I’m sorry, sir… It just… it just feels so good,” you whined, still bouncing back onto his dick. 

He released your jaw and grabbed your wrists with his hands to pull you back until you sat on your knees. His dick slipped in and out of you at a faster pace as he held your wrists in a tight grip. The burning on your skin from his hands brought a delicious tingle of pain crawling through your body, and you knew it would leave bruises on your skin. Strings of moans and whines spilled from your lips as you arched your back from the stinging pleasure in your lower half, and he cursed when you clenched around his cock. His balls slapped against you as he moved faster and faster inside of you, and you let out breathy ‘yes’s as your core burned.

The head of his cock prodded against walls, and you looked down to see the bulge in your stomach from his dick. Your eyes watched as it disappeared before returning, your stomach bulging out once more. The sight made your hole squeeze around him as it reminded you of who was inside of you, making you a moaning, blabbering mess, and before you knew it, the puddle of heat deep inside of you burned while your body tensed. He released your arms, and you fell forward, bracing yourself against the table as your high came closer and closer.

“I’m… I’m cumming!” you cried out, and he kept his pace consistent as he leaned forward to press his front into your back and groaned in your ear.

“Cum for me, slut,” he said, and you let out one last filthy moan before your orgasm slammed into you. 

Your whole body shook, the wave of pleasure spreading from your scalp to your toes as your head tingled and toes curled from your orgasm. You blanked out for a second as all you could register was the pleasure in coursing through you. Your lower half dipped down towards the table, and he slid an arm around your waist to hold you up as you clenched around him. He craned his head down to rest his forehead against your shoulder, and as your walls squeezed him once more, he cursed against your back as his hot, thick cum shot out into your hole. A helpless whine pushed past your abused lips as he filled every crevice inside of you with his cum, your walls expanding to let his seed fill you up. You rocked your hips back onto his cock to milk him of every last drop and to ride out your orgasm, and he hissed as you squeezed his dick.

As you rocked yourself on his cock. he slipped it out of you, your body twitching from the overstimulation. His cum slipped out of your hole as it clenched and pushed his seed out of your opening. A blob of cum hit the table, and a small bit trickled from your hole down the inside of your thighs. Beel used a thumb to spread open your hole as it pushed more of his cum out, watching with mild amusement as your hole clenched uncontrollably to push his white liquid out. 

You tried to hold his cum in, wanting to savor the feeling of it inside of you, but he dipped his head down to press his lips to your entrance. A soft kiss pressed itself against your sweaty skin before he poked his tongue out to enter you and swirl it around inside of you. He licked up his liquid painting your walls as you whined from the uncomfortable burning in your lower half. 

A sucking sound echoed through the kitchen as he made sure to get the last drop from your hole, and you reached a hand back to latch onto his hair and tug at it. He swirled his tongue inside you once more before he pulled off, and you fell forward and flopped onto your back. Your chest heaved up and down, sweat sticking your clothes to your torso, and Beel ran a hand through his orange hair to push it out of his face. Your hazy eyes trailed down his body and fell onto his erection. You knew you wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, and you silently apologized to everyone in the dorm, knowing they’d hear everything. You gulped, and he smirked at you, lust still swimming in his purple irises as he grabbed his cock. 

“Care for seconds?”

[writing-in-lesbian]

You wanted to sleep with a goddess but instead had to settle for a priestess

Pairing: Yelena / F!Reader

Tags: angst, fluff, happy ending, mentions of alcohol

Rating: PG-15 (I guess?)

Word count: 2.5k

Translation: Pridurok = jerk

Disclaimer: all the Marvel characters mentioned don’t belong to me (if they did, Nat would be alive and Wanda would be hugged and in therapy!)

Synopsis: Inspired on an episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S “You and Yelena have been dating for almost 3 years and you plan on proposing on your anniversary, but the universe has other plans and after a game of true or dare game you have to confess who you were actually looking to hook up the night you and Yelena did it.”

AN2: English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistake. I’m also on AO3 as: writinginlesbian

~~~~~~~

The light coming through the windows is the first thing you notice, the warm sensation on your skin rousing you from your deep slumber. Groaning a little, you refuse to open your eyes, instead cuddling further into the cozy feel next to you. Now that sleeps is evasive, the second thing you notice is your bladder demanding you take a trip to the washroom.

Opening your eyes reluctantly, the third thing you notice is the mass of sand blond hair in front of you, tightening your hold on her you smile and hum contentedly, earning a little grunt from the body in front of you.

Chuckling, your lips place a kiss on her bare shoulder before you finally release her. Stretching your body, your neck and back crack a little making you moan softly at the relaxation.

“You better keep quiet y/l/n or I won’t be hold responsible if I keep you hostage in bed all day” a groggily raspy little voice informs you, her Russian accent thicker in the mornings.

Smiling and shaking your head, you get up from the bed and march to the in-suite bathroom, hearing Yelena mumble something similar to spoilsport before closing the door as quiet as possibly.

Yelena Belova. Your girlfriend.

A little angry ball on the outside but a total dorky cinnamon roll on the inside (although she would never admit this to anyone), came into your life like a hurricane. Her sarcastic side and dark humor was one of the things you noticed right away, followed by those musky green eyes, capable of grounding and keeping you in your toes with just one look. How you got her to agree to date you after hooking up one night, is still something you have troubles believing it but here you are, sharing an apartment with her, a dog named Fanny (which she got to name) and just a week away of your three year anniversary… the one where you plan on proposing.

You got the ring ready, specially custom made to your request, paid by Tony (as annoying he can be, he’s been more family to you than your blood family). He squealed (actually squealed) when you told him about your plan for proposing and insisted on being your “best man of honor”. 

Finishing your business, you wash your hands and clean your face with cold water, staring at your reflection in the mirror and smiling at the sight of Yelena’s creams and her messy side compared to the organized one of yours. You can’t wait for Saturday to get here soon enough.

The sound of the alarm from your cellphone can be heard through the door, followed by a thud and then silence. You forgot to change it last night, so of course it ringed at 7am disturbing the dreams of the beauty in your bed.

“You better not have broken my phone again Yelena” you try to be serious while walking back to the bed.

“So it’s more important a phone than my sleep time? Okey, I see how it is, pridurok” she says covered in blankets, but you know she’s pouting.

You get back to bed, picking up your phone quickly inspecting it placing it on the nightstand, kneeling in front of her and slowly you take the covers off her face. She’s looking at you with and unreadable expression and you can’t think how it’s so similar to the one her sister often gives you during training sessions.

“No, you’re more important to me love… but this would be the third phone screen you break and I doubt Tony would be happy about it” you said while bopping her nose with your finger.

Yelena looks at you and cracks a tiny smile. You kiss her forehead, standing up you try to leave but her hand at your wrist stops you. You turn to her… only to find her middle finger directed at you.

“Still that damned thing woke me up and you weren’t here, so it deserves the fall” You chuckle as you see Yelena rolls off and pretends going back to sleep.

You go downstairs and start preparing breakfast after turning on the coffee machine. You know Yelena needs a little bit of a kick to fully wake up. While you wait, you open the “just add water pancake mixture” opting to add half milk and half water with a little bit of melted butter for extra fluffiness. After getting the pancakes ready, you go to the fridge to pick some fruit before placing it at the counter to be chopped.

Hearing soft padded steps nearing the kitchen, you grab a plate and put some pancakes on it, grabbing some strawberries and quickly cutting them in four, adding it to the plate along with some blueberries. The coffee pot indicates it’s ready so you grab a blue mug and fill it with the exquisite elixir, snatching some clutter, you place everything except the cup on the table just as Yelena enters the room.

Without a word she grabs the cup form your hands inhaling it before taking a sip. A hum and nod of approval is all you receive before a peck on your lips. Smiling you gather a plate for yourself and proceed to seat with her at the table. You both make small talk while eating before she asks your plans for the day.

“I’m supposed to meet with your sister in about an hour and then lunch with Wands and Bucky. Might get to see Tony in the afternoon though, depending on how my cellphone is” you try to be serious but the smirk on your face gives you away.

“Your phone is fine pridurok, I checked it before coming downstairs”

“Okey, then I shall be back around 6ish. Wanna do something babes? Get advantage of the weekend and that?”

“Maybe”

Before you can propose a plan, Yelena’s phone sounds. She looks at the display before answering.

“Hey mama”

You wave at her and she catches your intention, passing your regards to Melina before leaving the room. You decided to send a quick text to Natasha before texting Tony telling him you’ll meet him quick before heading to your lunch date to pick up the ring.

Cleaning up the table and putting the rest of the pancakes and fruit back on the fridge, you leave the kitchen and find Yelena still talking on the living room. You finish getting ready as you don’t wanna be late with Nat. This might be the most important coffee date you have with her, you know, since you’ll be asking for her little sister hand in marriage, so you don’t want to risk it by making her angry by being late.

Of all of Yelena’s family, Nat is the one you worry must about. She’s so fierce and protective when it comes to her baby sister. Despite being reluctant at first, (she’s your BFF so she knows all your dating history) she approved of you once she saw how happy you made Yelena, not before giving you the scariest shovel talk anyone can give. Melina and Alexei both agreed immediately, both of them giving you a slightly (emphasis on slightly) less frightening talk of “you hurt my baby daughter I won’t hesitate to kill you” talk than Natasha’s. You tried to joke by saying that if you ever hurt Yelena, she would be the first one to chop your head off before them. It didn’t make them laugh.

Grabbing the keys, you check your cellphone to see Tony’s reply consisting of only a thumbs up emoji. Making your way to the living room, you wave in front of Yelena, giving her a quick peck on her lips before whispering a “see ya later babes. Love you” before leaving.

// // //

You can’t help being nervous. In all your life you never imagined thinking of getting married. You liked your space and time alone, you weren’t afraid of intimacy or commitment, but you never quite connected with your past partners in the level you connected with Yelena. Strange thing honestly, considering how you started dating: hooking up after Steve and Peggy’s wedding. You both tried to keep it casual and secret, not wanting to make a huge deal about it. And you were fine with it until one day when you were having lunch with all your friends at Natasha’s place, you saw Yelena and your breath caught in your throat and you knew, you just knew you were in love with her.

“What has you smiling like an idiot?” A raspy voice brings you back to the present.

Noticing just now, Natasha is seated in front of you cup of coffee in her hands. You must have spaced out more than you thought since there is a refilled cup where your last empty one was.

“Yelena” you said it without a doubt, a smile on your lips.

Natasha smiled amused by it. In all of the years she has known you, she never saw you this smitten and happy with someone. And honestly she was happy it was with her baby sister. You both were a cute couple, with their ups and downs, but were still going strong and you both took care of each other.

“So where did you left her? It’s weird to see you without her attached to your side”

“She’s at home. I know she wouldn’t like to be up and out this early being Saturday”

“You asked me for coffee this early on purpose”

It’s meant to be said as a joke but giving the current topic you want to talk with her you don’t laugh.

“I did actually. I wanted to talk with you about something”

Natasha sees the seriousness on your face. She stares you for a little bit before her curiosity gets the best of her.

“Okey”

Your leg stars bouncing and Nat takes notice of it. Your hands grab the cup in front of you to avoid drumming the table with your fingers, a habit you do when your nervous.

“It’s about Yelena”

Nat’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion. You were smiling a few minutes ago so it shouldn’t be nothing bad, right?

“What about her?” You can’t help to flinch a little bit with the hardness of her tone.

Your fingers drum a little on the cup, you open your mouth but no words came out. You sigh.

Nat is silently observing you, giving the benefit of the doubt and actually waiting for you to speak, but since is her little sister you wanted to talk about, she can’t help but get impatient.

You heard her huff in annoyance after what seems seconds but it has been a few minutes, you got lost in your mind again.

“Iwanttoaskforyourpermissiontomarryher” you say in one breath, taking half of your coffee in one gulp and not looking at her.

Natasha blinks in surprise, trying to decipher what you just said. Her mouth opens slightly once she process what you just dropped on her.

“You… you want to marry her. My little sister, Yelena… you want to marry her?”

Finally looking up you see Natasha is a little bit speechless. Something you haven’t seen in like never. You try to gauge her reaction but she’s a master in hiding her emotions, so you opt to answer her honestly any question she might have.

“Yeah, I do”

“Have you proposed to her though?” a fair question.

“No. I wanted to talk with you first”

“Why?”

“You’re her big sister, your blessing is important to me Tasha. I know that we both think that this tradition of asking for someone’s hand in marriage is an archaic thing and that and Yelena would probably get angry if she knew I did this, but you mean a lot to her, she adores you and respects you a lot. I know I could work around your parents but if you were to oppose, I don’t think Yelena would be as happy. Plus you’re my best friend Nat, I care about you”

Natasha stays silent thinking in what you just said. Basically, you gave her a lot of power here, if she were to say no, would you really not propose? She has seen you grow by Yelena’s side and has seen the same with her sister. She knows you never would hurt her.

“So if I would to say no?”

Your stomach hurts at hearing that. You drop your eyes to the table before answering.

“I might postpone proposing but I would still do it”

“You really love her”

“More than anything, I’m in love with her Tasha” the smile on your face and the brightness of your eyes give her all the answers to the questions she might have.

When she found out you were hooking up with Yelena she was so mad and furious with you, more so when you denied it when she confronted you about it. She was on her way to forbid you to see her sister when she caught you both asleep on the couch. Yelena had her head on your chest while you hold her securely in your arms. Both your faces were peaceful and happy.

“When are you planning on doing it?”

You looked up surprised.

“Saturday at-”

“Your dinner anniversary”

“Yeah… how-”

“It’s all I’ve been hearing Lena talk about for the last week, this big dinner plan you have for it and how you won’t tell her what it is, so she doesn’t know what to wear and is a ball of nerves, is kinda annoying actually”

You can’t help but blush at hearing that. You know the Romanoff-Belova sisters are reserved so the fact that Yelena has been gushing about your relationship to her sister has your stomach doing flops and your heart beating harder.

Natasha studies your face and can’t help but smile with you.

“Alright y/l/n, you have my blessing to marry my sister. Don’t fuck it up okey? It’s my baby sister I’m trusting you with”

You are speechless for a moment. You know deep down that she would say yes, but hearing it saying it it’s another thing. You stand up and grab her in a bone crushing hug.

“O…key… need… to breath…”

“Sorry, sorry… thank you Nat, really, you don’t know what it means to me, truly”

“So you have a ring picked yet?”

“Yes. Actually, I’m meeting Tony before lunch to pick it up, wanna come?”

“Of course, I need to make sure my baby sister gets the best of the best”

You laugh and throw the napkin at her, she catches easily but laughs with you. You’re not nervous anymore, at least for the moment.

Now, you only need to ask Yelena… easy right?

[thevindicativevordan]

On Livewire

You know Leslie is probably the most popular and well known female Superman Rogue mainly because they use her so heavily in outside media.

Which makes sense given her debut in Superman: The Animated Series, but it still kind of fascinates me. They didn't bring her into comics continuity until 2006 apparently, with Gail Simone and John Byrne (Byrne of all the creators!) being the ones to finally fold her in. Even after they brought her in, they still have never given her that much attention or focus which is a disappointment for me frankly, because Livewire is honestly fantastic in Scott McCloud and later Mark Millar's Superman Adventures runs, and I would say with complete sincerity that those two are probably her best writers. "Millar writing a female character well?" you scoff at in disbelief. I know, I was shocked too! But she's funny, clever, and a huge pain in the ass for Supes. Reading how she was used there, and rewatching her STAS incarnation recently, really made a big realization for the character hit me like a lightning bolt (couldn't resist):

She's basically an evil superpowered Lois Lane! I know I can't have been the first one to realize that, although I haven't seen anyone else actually outright state it anywhere, but c'mon it's so obvious! She's a reporter of a sorts as well thanks to being a disc jockey, her debut in STAS even has her interviewing Lois and Clark! She's got strong opinions on Superman that conflict with the general opinion about him (Lois being pro-Superman when everyone else is more hostile towards him at first, Livewire being anti-Superman when everyone else has embraced him as their hero). She's rude and abrasive, and doesn't care if her opinions offend people, which sure does remind me of Lois at her meanest.

Livewire to me is an examination of what Lois would be like if she abandoned her morals or never really had them in the first place. Leslie doesn't care about the "truth" which is the big difference between her and Lois. Lois can be headstrong, willful, and outright rude, but it's all in service of her pursuit of higher ideals. Livewire doesn't care about that, she carries about getting people to pay attention to her, and getting the recognition and wealth she believes she's owed.

What I'd Do With Livewire

It wasn't until I had that big realization about Leslie that I figured out what role she should play with regards to Clark: She should be Clark's old college ex who was the one who got him into journalism in the first place.

Clark's college years are unexplored territory narratively, typically we jump from his childhood in Smallville right into his debut in Metropolis. Now I know Clark dated Lori that mermaid back in Pre-Crisis during his college years, and while that's a fun bit of trivia, it doesn't really add anything meaningful in the same way that I think Leslie and Clark dating could. So I'd rather go with Leslie because I think she makes for a better foil for Clark and because the two of them would benefit from having a deeper connection established, plus Leslie could get fleshed out as a character more.

I like the explanation that Clark chose journalism in part because it challenges him in ways his powers can't, but in the comics they've rarely bothered to explain how he chose that field in the first place. I would have meeting Leslie at college be that big moment where he starts to figure himself out. She's assertive and confident, and Clark is attracted to that for similar reasons he's attracted to Lois. Leslie would start out as an optimist and idealist in the same way Clark is, and the two would bond and go into journalism together, with Leslie being the one who really believes in the field initially. They'd both be big believers in the duty of the press to inform and the presses ability to shape public opinion, with Clark attracted to investigative journalism and Leslie attracted more to broadcast and digital journalism. They start to date and for a moment, Clark seriously wonders if this is the one.

The big break between them comes when Clark and Leslie go on a trip around the world during their senior year of college. That trip would be where both of them learn how crappy the world is. Clark always had some idea of how bad things were because of his powers, but the trip is where he really starts to realize that there is a real need for someone of his powers to step up, and that there are hard limits to just how much he can accomplish as a member of the press. That same realization is what shatters Leslie's idealism and optimism. She loses faith in the ability to make a difference, to punch through the wall of public indifference, and as a result she gives up that dream. Instead she decides that if you can't beat them, join them: she switches instead to telling the masses what the powers that be want them to hear in exchange for money, to saying whatever the masses will give her attention and prestige for, embracing tabloid journalism that prioritizes clicks and engagement over information. Ultimately it destroys the relationship between Leslie and Clark with her viewing him as a sap and him viewing her as a sellout.

I think that origin really would help flesh out her worldview and motivation a lot more. She's a former idealist who has been broken by the world in a similar way to Poison Ivy. Leslie thus acts as a foil to Clark and Lois in that she's someone who let the world rob her of her idealism and sold out on the truth in exchange for material success. She's what Clark or Lois could've been if they took Lex's offer to work for him, and they should recognize that to some degree. Clark should have conflicting feelings for her, not romantically that relationship is dead, but in terms of sometimes he wonders if he's just wasting his life trying to fight for truth and justice. So few people seem to care about those principles, why hold on so tight to them? Why not just look out for his own self-interest the way everyone else seems to? It's the refusal to give up even when it looks pointless that makes the two of them different, and makes Clark a hero and Livewire a villain.

How I'd Like Livewire To Operate

There's a lack of imagination in how Livewire is used on the comic side as I see it.

Like most Superman Rogues the typical Superman writer doesn't seem to have a clue what to do with her beyond generic "villain" stuff, but that does a disservice to what Livewire brings to the table. Livewire does want to fry Superman to a crisp, but that's not what her daily goal is to accomplish. More importantly, she wants respect and she wants money, and the way she gets both is not by trying to rob banks, it's by leaning into her background as a media personality combined with her new powers. Unleashing electric bolts is honestly the least impressive part of her powerset in terms of her ability to manipulate anything and everything technology.

The Internet? Livewire can crash the entire thing with ease, or restrict access to portions of it. She can do the reverse and smash through firewalls and encryption like it's made of paper. Imagine Livewire shutting off the power grid or causing it to explode, secretly using your "smart" tech to record your every move, uploading ransomware to every piece of technology in Metropolis, emptying the bank accounts of anyone who annoys her, or bringing Metropolis to it's knees thanks to the "City of Tomorrow" being a test ground for the Internet of Things, so everything is connected and thus easily manipulated. Smart cars crash into each other, elevators randomly drop, trains are unable to stop and simply accelerate onward unceasingly, plans attempting to land find their instruments on the fritz, anything and everything is Livewire's to control. But terrorism, while entertaining and occasionally profitable, isn't Livewire's main focus either.

One of my favorite Superman Adventures stories with her had Livewire manipulating TV broadcast signals so that any time there was a male news reporter on screen, the signal wouldn't come through. Stuff like that, where Livewire is making life hell for people in a way that isn't immediately life-threatening is what I envision as her day to day operations, but her bread and butter is fake news. What Livewire is REALLY good at doing is manipulating the public due to her journalism background plus her powers. She can make fake videos that look totally authentic, fake articles that seem to come from credible sources, fake voice recordings, she can make anyone appear to do or say anything through the Internet, and then she can upload that to the devices of every single person in Metropolis.

You can get stories about the mayor being framed for taking bribes, local activists cast as grifters, and supposed upstanding citizens such as Lois Lane and Clark Kent appearing to take orders from criminals like Intergang on what stories to run. Basically you lean into the journalism aspect for Livewire stories where Clark and Lois have to investigate to see whether what Livewire is putting out there is fake or legit, with peoples lives and reputations at stake (including frequently their own).

And when Superman and Livewire actually do clash physically? I don't care how it gets justified, Livewire simply being that powerful, her lightning being "special", she has the ability to manipulate Superman's bioelectric field, whatever: she can hurt him. When she hits Supes with lightning, it burns. It's painful as all hell. Livewire needs to be a threat and I'd like her to be treated as a powerhouse since I don't see a reason why that shouldn't be the case. Livewire is a really cool Rogue, there's a reason she's managed to keep getting used long after the DCAU ended. I hope the comics creators start utilizing her to her full potential.

[byulsgrease]

if you arent too busy, can you write a idol!hwasa x idol!reader, wherein they both have to practice with each other for a special stage. However on the first meeting they become starstruck and cant believe somethings are real, but soon warm up to each other?

i'm not terribly busy but this still took a while anyway oops - sorry this took so long anon! here you go :D

if anyone has requests for the other members hmu cuz I've got 2 more hyejin reqs after this one (not that I'm complaining)

"who says we can't do something on our own?"

(hwasa x idol!reader, ~1.2k words)

cw: food + alcohol mention (y'all know how it is)

I named someone Minjeong - it's not Aespa's Winter, idk anything about 4th gen gg's - 민정 is my Korean name so it's just what came to mind

"Hey, wake up. You've gotta see this. GET UP," a voice piercing through the fog of your sleep.

What a rude awakening. Your shoulders being shaken vigorously by a pair of small hands meant they belonged to none other than Minjeong, your youngest group member. You rolled over to glare menacingly at her with one eye open, trying to pull your brain out of the slumber. All you could see was the bright light of her phone shining in your eyes - a video of some kind. But then you heard the audio:

"Have you seen the clip?" asked the interviewer.

"Yes, my members and many MooMoos made sure I saw it"— Moos? Oh, it's Hwasa. WAIT. Both your eyes flew open as you sat up and snatched Jeongie's phone out of her hand to stare at the video. Your mind immediately flashed back to the interview you did last week - they asked who you most wanted to collaborate with, if there were no limitations. Your ears started to heat up at the sheer thought of the flustered mess of an answer you gave - of course you said Hwasa. Both of you debuted relatively close to each other, within a year, but never interacted much over the years. Mamamoo as a group was a force to be reckoned with, but there was just something about Hwasa specifically. You mostly just admired her unique singing voice and undeniable stage presence, and her relentless drive to always be herself in an industry constantly trying to fit women into a box.

Finally snapping out of re-living that embarrassment, your attention turned back to the phone in your hand. The interviewer must've asked her to send a message in response to you, because you couldn't believe that she was waving and saying, "How haven't we gotten to know each other better over all these years? I'd love to work with you on something sometime," curtly dipping her head in a slight bow.

"SEE? You needed to see that," Minjeong rushed to say, full of energy. "And close your mouth, your jaw's on the floor," jokingly pointing.

You side-eyed her and shut your mouth. "Is this what Loco felt like when she called him during Hyena on the Keyboard?" you wondered aloud.

"At least she's not calling you while on camera," she commented, knowing full well that you'd probably embarrass yourself again if she did. "But hey, at least she noticed you! Can I have my phone back now?" It would be a dream come true to collaborate with her, but cross-company collabs... always a pain. that couldn't be helped. The fantasy abruptly ended with demands from your rumbling stomach. Done with your what-if's, you placed the phone back in your maknae's outstretched hand to get up and make breakfast.

~~~~

With award show season rolling around, the crazy scramble of rehearsing for special live stages without leaking sets and collabs began. Checking your email that morning showed a schedule to record the backing track for a special live stage, but that was it. With who? You texted your members a screenshot, but they all told you that block of time in their schedule was empty. A solo stage? The solo mini-album you released this cycle did relatively well, the title track got a music show win, but not a multi-week chart-topper by any means. Possibilities turning over in your mind, you stepped out from your place to head to the company, totally in the dark about what was in store.

The recording studio always smelled the same along with the couches, a comfort for all the insanely long nights and crack-of-dawn early mornings over the years. With a bit of time to kill, you plopped down on one and gingerly patted the worn cushions as some kind of symbolic thank-you for supporting you (literally).

A hesitant but loud knock sent your gaze directly to the door. Watching it slowly open, you leaned forward to see who it was. Needless to say, your jaw fell to the floor again as you clapped a hand over your gaping mouth, eyes widening. Like a soldier obeying a command, you immediately stood up as straight as possible and bowed profusely at Hwasa, sporting a very similar expression on her face (which you failed to notice, your mind running a million miles a minute).

After a series of frantic bows and miscellaneous utterances to each other, she spoke. "It's nice to finally meet you," she said with calm, surveying your frenzied state. "I guess we're granting that collab wish from your interview, huh?"

The red-hot embarrassment leapt to your face. "I...I definitely made a fool of myself answering that question. And our maknae showed me your interview clip too, which was cool, but never did I think it would actually happen," you stammered. I should probably stop talking.

"Well, here I am," she half-smiled coolly. "Let's get started, I'm really looking forward to finally work with you on this," a gleam in her eye and a hint of excitement in her voice.

The studio suddenly felt a lot smaller with her in it, despite there only being your managers, the producer, and the both of you - less people than you and your members alone. Both of you remained relatively quiet the whole time, rather unsure of what to say or talk about. You watched enough MMMTV to know that all the members on their own were shyer than together, and Hwasa knew the same was true for you. But the work basically took care of itself, seamlessly taking turns in the recording booth, witnessing each other's work style and process. The both of you knew your way in front of a mic, seasoned professionals by now. Upon wrapping up, you bowed politely to each other after a quick exchange of KaTalk info, a short and sweet goodbye.

That was... anticlimactic. I mean, it's finally happening - I can't believe it. But maybe I was too idealistic about maybe creating a meaningful relationship with her outside of work... What does she think of me?

~~~~

In the days leading up to the collab stage, you kept going back and forth on whether to reach out or not, despite now being in possession of her contact info. What would you even say? Thoughts of a witty one-liner or relatable meme came to mind, but maybe she'd assume the worst - that you were clout-chasing, or something. Anxieties abuzz, your phone vibrated in your pocket. The KaTalk notification sprawled across your screen. Speak of the devil, it's her.

"Hey, awards season has me stressed. I know you must pretty busy right now too, but I somehow get off early tomorrow if you wanna grab dinner after work?" You had to reread that one. Oh, what? She's inviting me?

Trying not to be weird about responding too quickly, you typed out, "Wow, yeah, that sounds great! ^^ wait, your company doesn't care about you going out to eat during award season?"

"nah, they stopped having that kind of control over us a while ago, we are the money-maker of the company, after all 😏"

"so I guess this means they don't check your phone either ㅋㅋㅋ"

"nope :)"

You proceeded to set a time and place to meet, someplace with meat.

In the process of feasting on an inordinate amount of gopchang imbued with a splash of beer, you learned a fair amount about each other. You talked career, professional aspirations, the weird habits of your members, and more. What surprised you most was the amount of things she already knew about you, having admitted to watching some of your behind-the-scenes content after seeing your interview clip.

"Ah... I'm sorry if I came across as distant during that first recording session," she confessed, pausing to sip her beer. "I honestly didn't know what to do with myself, I felt a little star-struck."

"Oh what?? I felt the exact same, so no worries - and sorry if I came off similarly distant," you rambled back. A bit of silence fell between you, acknowledging the mutual sentiment. You spoke up after a bit, "Thanks for inviting me out tonight, I didn't realize how much I needed this."

"Thank you for making the time, I had fun getting to know you better," she articulated with a smile. "Maybe it'll make the collab stage better," she added on jokingly. You responded with a nod and expression of mutual affirmation.

~~~~

After that, messaging each other became a regular occurrence, that gopchang outing having broken the ice. Honestly, you tried your best to talk about anything besides work, but the baseline of shared understanding connected you in a way that came more naturally than it did with your non idol friends.

You stood across the way from her at the sound check for the final stage, dressed in joggers and slides. Funny to think that you'd be recording this for real in a couple hours, making eyes with the blinking red light on the cameras surrounding you. It sucks that fans wouldn't get to experience the energy and atmosphere of the performance - Hyejin alone is one thing, but adding someone else into her stage presence? Unmatched. There's nothing quite like a live performance - and while you knew everyone in the industry dealt with the consequences of the pandemic, it certainly took a toll to perform and not feel the energy from fans. But realistically, nothing you could do about it. The sound check went over smooth like butter. The stage chemistry came flowing naturally between you both, even when bare-faced and dressed in just sweats.

And when the time came for the actual filming, you both absolutely killed it, an upbeat mash-up of TWIT and your title track. At the very end came a sliver of hesitation before throwing your arms around each other with a big smile for the ending fairy, proud of the work you accomplished together, and a mental fist-pump to yourself for making friends with one of the industry's finest.

Once again walking to a restaurant that served mostly meat to celebrate, you playfully proposed, "We... should do that again sometime." A little puff of air came out her nose in amusement.

"Yeah, we should. Too bad we're gonna have to wait a whole cycle before we can release anything else together again," she sighed longingly.

"Who says we can't do something on our own?"

[chudleycanonficfest]

Took Far Longer Than It Should've

Day 9, Story #1 is by CandyMan91

Title: Took Far Longer Than It Should've Author: CandyMan91 Pairing: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley Prompt: Soulmate AU Rating: General Audiences

A calm and quiet morning Ron Weasley woke up like it was any other day, except it wasn’t any other day, it was his birthday. Excitedly, he walked down the stairs in his too-short pyjamas that once belonged to his brother Charlie and settled down at the dinner table. 

His mother had made him his favorite, pancakes with a side of bacon and pumpkin juice. As they sang happy birthday Ron suddenly felt a slight warm sensation on his left wrist, he dismissed it as nervousness or perhaps hunger. As he reached for the syrup the left sleeve of his pyjama shirt rolled up.

“What’s that?” asked Ginny sitting on the chair on the left of Ron.

“What’s what?” asked Ron as he poured the syrup over his pancakes.

“That mark on your wrist,” Ron turned his wrist over and indeed there was a stranger mark on his wrist. It looked to be a dog similar to a Crup, except it was missing its forked tail, a Jack Russel terrier if Ron was correct. There used to be one at Uncle Bilius’s place back when he was alive. 

However, there was also a different mark, unlike the other which was a dark maroon. This one looked like a faint periwinkle blue. It was also not a dog, but instead an otter. It looked as if the dog was chasing the otter, but not like a hunter chasing its prey, but like a playmate.

This conversation was brought to their mother’s attention and as she settled her eyes on Ron’s stranger mark she gasped. 

“Arthur!” she said in a loud voice. Ron’s father’s eyes shot up from his copy of the Daily Prophet, and as he saw the random mark on Ron’s wrist, his eyes widened beyond what Ron thought was possible. He looked at his wife as if to ask what to do, before he cleared his throat and settled down the newspaper.

“Listen son,” said his father. “There are special people in the magical world, more so in certain ways than if I may say powerful wizards like Albus Dumbledore.” Ron nodded, not getting his father’s explanation. “When these people turn 10 years of age, something weird occurs to them. They like you get marks.”

Ron’s eyes nearly bulged out of their skull, was his father serious? Was he really more special than the most powerful wizard since Merlin?

“They are known as soulmates,” said his father. “They are people who are destined to belong to one another. That mark you have on your wrist is or will appear on your soulmate at 10 years of age.” 

So that was it. He had the same mark as another person, and according to his father that person and he were destined to be together. Ron could see by his parents’ faces that although it seemed like good news, they weren’t necessarily good ones.

“But,” said his mother. “You see Ronnie, some people are quite jealous or confused about this. When it’s time for you to grow up and get a girlfriend or a boyfriend, they won’t necessarily be your soulmate. And as such they won’t even bother staying with you, because to them someone with a soulmate is as good as stolen.”

Ron gulped, was that what made him so special? A sort of brand that turned him into some sort of freak?

“If you want to we can hide it of course,” said his mother hurriedly as he saw his face fall at the news. Ron couldn’t have nodded faster. Her mother went to her room and returned with Bill's old leather wristband. As she wrapped it around his mark he couldn’t help but ask.

“How will I know when I meet them?” 

His mother gave him a warm encouraging smile. “You just will.”

On a simple house in Hampstead Hermione Granger couldn’t believe it. It was her birthday, not only on a Saturday giving her free time to read any book she liked and avoid her teasing and mocking classmates, but a witch had just turned into a cat in front of her. She couldn’t believe it, she was a witch, that’s why she could never fit in. She was special, and she was going to a place with special people like her.

It was her father who had brought up the thing as they had decided to dub it. 

“Is that why Hermione has that peculiar mark on her wrist?” Professor McGonagall, if Hermione was correct, looked strangely at her father. Her mother put her hand on Hermione’s back, who felt her cheeks go pink at the attention. She removed the ribbon she used to hide the thing.

Professor McGonagall’s eyes widened as they saw a periwinkle blue otter being playfully chased by a Jack Russel terrier, unlike the otter the dog was a faint dark red or maroon.

“Oh my,” escaped from her mouth, before she realized it.

“Oh my?” repeated Hermione’s mother.

Professor McGonagall proceeded to explain everything she could about Soulmates, how they worked, their view in the wizarding world, as she continued to speak fear began to set in Hermione. Of course it wouldn't be that simple, as she asked what they could do the old witch suggested hiding the mark until she was older. It looked like Hermione would have to wear her red ribbon for a while longer.

Ron Weasley was talking to Harry Potter and not only that, but it seemed that he liked him as much as Ron was beginning to like the legendary boy. As he brandished his wand about to show his new friend a spell that hopefully turned his old grey rat yellow he was interrupted by the arrival of a girl.

She had bushy brown hair, a button nose, along with buck teeth, but she was still pretty. She has asked the same question as the other boy that had come through moments ago, as their eyes met Ron felt a tug in his stomach and he had to gulp and look away when he thought he was about to blush under her gaze. He missed as she too settled her gaze away from him.

He cleared his throat and hoped Fred and George hadn’t tricked him.

“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.” he said, and nothing happened. He felt incredibly embarrassed and the pretty girl wasn’t making it any easier.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” said the girl. “Well, it’s not very good is it?” And Ron stopped listening after she started rambling on. Maybe looks were deceiving as his mother said, as the pretty witch looked to be everything but sociable. “–I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?” 

“I’m Ron Weasley”

She didn’t know what she had done wrong, she was trying to help him. Perhaps, she had been a tad bossy or maybe she could have phrased it a bit better, but was she really as annoying in the Wizarding World as she was in the Muggle one. Perhaps, her classmates hadn’t been wrong about her.

And she wondered just why Ron’s words had hurt her more than any other. It had hurt enough for her to break down and go to the girl’s bathroom and miss not only her classes, but the Hallowe’en Feast as well.

As Hermione got out of the bathroom stall she was faced with horror as a troll was right in front of her, its foul smell filling the bathroom. She screamed, and then the door banged open. Had the teachers come for her? But, she only heard a slight familiar voice… and Ron’s voice.

As the troll’s club fell down on its small head and the three went back to the Gryffindor Tower they all thanked each other and went to bed. Why hadn’t she recognized Harry’s voice, but Ron’s voice was something like the voice of an old friend? The boy barely tolerated her, and he made no attempt at hiding it.

As she woke up the next morning she joined Harry and Ron on their way to breakfast. Ron went to talk to his brothers about something she hadn’t heard clearly leaving her alone with Harry.

“Thank you,” she said. “Again, for saving me… If you hadn’t got there in time…” she didn’t finish her sentence as a shiver ran down her spine at the memory of the beast.

“You should thank Ron,” said Harry to Hermione’s surprise. Her expression must have told Harry something because the next moment he was explaining himself. “I reminded him that you were still in the bathroom, and you didn’t know.” The green-eyed boy looked at the back of his ginger best friend. “Never saw anyone run that fast.” 

Hermione too looked at the back of Ron, but instead of admiration as Harry had shown her cheeks went pink.

They were at a DA meeting, she looked as beautiful as ever of course. They were practicing their Patronus charm, Ron was having a hard time making it Corporeal, for the time being he could only get a wisp of smoke. He tried focusing on his happiest memories, but somehow most of them ended up with Hermione’s face.

But, that would only remind him of the truth, that he had a soulmate somewhere in the world, that destiny had set to screw him up with a bird or a bloke somewhere in the world, that no matter how much he wanted to he could never have what he so wanted, but he couldn’t control himself. He looked at her wild set of brown curls, her beautiful plump lips, her button nose and her beautiful brown eyes. To hell with his soulmate, if he had to carve the mark out of his skin with a knife he would bloody do so if it meant having Hermione.

Suddenly, there was applause and cheering in the room. Ron turned his head and his eyes just couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Hermione had successfully conjured her Patronus, but that wasn’t what shocked Ron, her patronus was an otter. She looked up at him, and seeing him had made her blush as she turned her gaze away from him.

An unrelenting barrage of happiness coursed through him and with the knowledge that Hermione Granger of all people was his soulmate he conjured his own Patronus.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” he casted and a Jack Russell Terrier shot out of his wand and ran around the Room of Requirement, there was another round of applause which was now directed to him. It ran around the room and started chasing around Hermione’s otter, it playfully ran behind the other Patronus and the otter started swimming in the air as Ron’s terrier happily barked at it.

Ron set his eyes back to Hermione who looked as shocked as he had felt moments before, Ron gulped and unwrapped his old leather wristband that he had always been careful to use as a way to cover his mark. The wristband fell to the floor and his mark was available to everyone in the room, with all his Gryffindor courage he walked across the room towards her and showed her his wrist.

The otter which had been a faint periwinkle blue seemed to shine as it was no longer translucent. Hermione gasped as he looked from his wrist back at his eyes. She unlaced that red ribbon she always wore in her right wrist and the same mark appeared. They looked back at each other, and something shunned bright in their eyes, Ron couldn’t take it anymore and he put his lips to hers. He could sense her momentary surprise, before he felt her arms wrapped around his neck.

The gasps, the cheers, everything seemed to pass over their heads. As they detached the look that they had for each other told Ron something.

It Took Far Longer Than It Should've.

[amazingmaeve]

Used ━ n. longbottom

─ “It sucks not being loved by the one you love,”

summary ─ y/n has liked harry potter ever since her first year. then he asked her out in her sixth year but soon realized that he never really wanted her. when the war comes she gets closer to neville.

warnings ─ angst, fluff, crucio curse

a/n ─ no hate to ginny or harry

word count ─ 3.7k

Y/N doesn’t remember her parents. She doesn’t remember how they loved her or how they fought for her to stay alive. She hates that she couldn’t help them when they died but she was only 1 year old. She hates that she can’t even remember them. It wasn’t anything magical, her parents were muggles and so they were killed during a burglary or so she thought. She remembers it oh so clearly.

After her parents died they had to put her in the fosters system since her parents had no family. No grandparents, siblings, or any godparents. She didn’t understand why her parents didn’t have anyone in their life to name them as her godparents. But she always tried to not think like that since the thought of her parents would bring tears to her eyes.

When she got her Hogwarts letter she was living in a foster family that didn’t like her one bit, so they didn’t care where she went. Her ‘parents’ knew of the magic world so they knew where she would be going all year. Her ‘siblings’ didn’t really like her so they were really happy about her leaving. Y/N was happy since her family wouldn’t be there and they wouldn’t need another mouth to feed. Her ‘parents’ seemed rather thrilled that she would be going.

Her parents knew of the world because of her though. That’s the only reason her siblings weren’t going is what they told her.

Her first year of Hogwarts wasn’t anything special. She met her first friend though, Neville Longbottom. He would often remind her that she should try and talk to Harry since they had similar pasts. Y/N heard that Harry’s parents were killed by you-know-who and she felt bad for him.

So she tried talking to him but he always seemed too busy or talking with Ron or Hermione. She didn’t mind since he knew he had friends and didn’t really try to talk to him for her second year. But that’s when her crush developed alongside Ginny Weasley which she eventually became friends with. But that didn’t taint her and Nevilles relationship.

Oftentimes Ginny would gush to Y/N about her crush on Harry but always kept her feelings inside, not wanting to hurt the redhead girl. So she would often rant to Neville about her feelings, he was very accepting and supportive of her feelings.

In her 3rd year everything changed for her. The dementors have taken a toll on everyone and luckily she got the paper signed so she could go to Hogsmeade with Neville and Ginny. Her feelings for Harry developed even more this year since she usually stayed back to go to Hogsmeade so she spent some time talking to him.

“Harry what are you doing I thought you’d be at Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione,” Y/N asked confused as looked up to see Harry sitting next her awkwardly smiling at her.

“I couldn’t get my permission slip signed,” Harry let out a disappointed sigh. “What are you doing here I heard that you got your slip signed,” He looked at her confused.

“I don’t like big crowds,” Y/N defended looking down at her book as a test was upon them the next. It was true it stemmed from her claustrophobia and when she was around large groups of people it felt like the walls were closing in on her. “But I wish i could give you my pass since it seems like I won’t be using it all,” She thought out loud.

“It wouldn’t do anything I can’t go out since everyone seemed to be afraid that Black would get me,” Harry bitterly said, putting his head down on his hands. Y/N heard that Sirius Black at escaped Azkaban and was quite afraid herself. Y/N read somewhere that he killed 12 muggles and was a right hand man to who musnt’ be named.

“It’s scary to have a mass murder around,” Y/N hesitated to say noticing how irritated Harry got when they mentioned Black himself.

“Yeah but it's not like he's going to be at Hogsmeade where they’re people and Dementors,” Harry snapped which made Y/N flinch from the tone in his voice. “Sorry didn’t mean to startle you,” He apologized with sympathy in his eyes.

“It’s fine it must get old of not having the abilities other kids have,” Y/N softly says looking up to see Harry who nodded agreeing with her.

After that night It seemed like her and Harry talked whenever everyone went to Hogsmeade and it was sorta like they were friends. But one day Neville and Ginny convinced her to go to Hogsmeade but what she didn’t know is that Harry was there as well.

When they went to the three broomsticks Y/N was laughing at something Ginny said. The three agreed that Y/N would go and get the drinks and she didn’t mind since she needed a break from all the smiling. She noticed McGonagall, Filtwick, and Hagrid talking to Madam Rosmerta who owned the three broomsticks. It seemed like they were having a serious conversation and when Y/N overheard it was about Harry her eyes went wide and listened to all of it as she sat a few stools away. Describing how Black was a friend of Harry’s parents and how he betrayed them for you-know-who. But she let out a gasp when she heard her own name.

“But we cannot tell Miss Y/L/N that her parents were a part of the muggles that Black killed,” McGonagall sternly said to the four adults around her. Her mind went crazy. As she carried the three butter beers to her and her friends table.

“What’s wrong Y/N,” Neville worriedly asked looking at Y/N who had been silent ever since she sat next to him and Ginny.

“I just found out my parents were killed by Sirius Black,” Y/N bluntly said, shock still coursing through her veins. Neville and Ginny sat there with mouths agape as they heard what they’re friend said.

“H-how did you find out,” Ginny stuttered out of shock.

“I heard the professors talking about it,” Y/N quietly said, looking at her hands in her lap, thoughts still running its course. Neville gave her a small smile while putting his hand on hers.

Ever since that night she’s tried to figure out information about her parents and if they knew about magic. So she went to one of the easiest teachers to get information from. Hagrid. She wasn’t going to use him since he was one of her favorite teachers. But once she got inside his hut she couldn’t ask him for that.

He was crying about Buckbeak who was a Hippogriff, was going to get executed. Y/N told him that there must be a way to persuade the ministry to keep Buckbeak alive. Hagrid explained that Harry, Ron and Hermione would be helping them appeal it so that made Y/N relax a bit.

Over the next few months she kept visiting Hagrid to see how he was doing and even comforted a crying Hermione alongside Hagrid. Hermione, Ron, and Harry weren’t talking which made Hermione cry, she explained through the tears. She also told them about Scabbers and Crookshanks' situation. Y/N thought all she had to do was apologize to Ron about being insensitive about Scabbers but didn’t say anything not wanting to upset Hermione.

She kept researching about her parents and Neville even ended up helping her. Y/N was thankful for Neville and his presence, she felt like she could talk to him about anything and she always could. Neville would listen as she cried about her parents and give her a hug afterwards reassuring her. Y/N was thankful to have such a good friend like Neville.

One day towards the end of the year she was going to go check up on Hagrid since she heard about his appeal being rejected. As she knocked on the door Hagrid opened with a smile but disappeared which confused Y/N.

“Yer guys mus leave I don’t want’you to be here when it ‘appens,'' Hagrid sternly said as Y/N came in and saw Harry, Ron and Hermione. Y/N immediately shook her head and disagreed wanting to be there for Hagrid. Harry, Ron and Hermione agreed on that.

But alas the four of them left with Harry's invisibility cloak over them so the people from the ministry didn’t see them. Hermione asked what Y/N was doing there with a confused tone and Y/N answered that she wanted to be there for Hagrid. Y/N noticed that Ron got Scabbers back which made Y/N somewhat happy since she thought that he would’ve been dead.

Scabbers fought though and did bite Ron and tried to make his escape. Ron let out a frustrated sigh as he got out of the invisibility quote ignoring Hermione, Harry, and Y/Ns dismay. He tripped and held a squealing Scabbers in his hands. Y/N sighed and walked over to him and intended to help him.

“Harry behind you,” Ron yelled pointing behind Harry and Hermione. Y/N’s eyes were filled with confusion as she turned around and her eyes were full of fear as she saw a huge black dog standing there growling.

Before anyone could do anything the dog sprinted forward and jumped over Harry and Hermione headed straight for Ron. Y/N tried to get to Ron but the dog pushed into the Whomping Willow where she hit her head and blacked out.

The next time she woke up was in the infirmary. Y/N was in a bed next to Ron who looked like he had a broken leg. Ron noticed she was awake and explained what had happened. That Sirius Black wasn’t the one killed Harry’s parents. That it was Peter Pettigrew who was a ‘friend’ to Harry’s parents.

Y/N was in shock once again. She spent so much time hating Sirius Black for killing her family when all in all it was Peter Pettigrew. She instantly felt bad for blaming him as a few tears cascaded down her cheeks.

After that the end of the year came quick. She bid farewell to Neville and Ginny and was off for the summer.

Her 4th year wasn’t as bad as her 3rd. But when the twizard tournament was introduced she had a bad feeling in her stomach. But was quickly relieved that it was prohibited for anyone under the age of sixteen to enter. But when Harry was chosen for this tournament it shocked her since he was only 14.

Her crush for him hadn’t flourished instead grew.

Over the year she knew of Harry’s crush on Cho Chang. A ravenclaw who was on the quidditch team. She didn’t hate Cho but envied her. The Yule ball was nice but she didn’t have anyone to go with as Neville took Ginny. She was happy for them but was wallowing her sorrows.

At the end of the year and the tournament it was revealed that Voldemort had made his return. It frightened Y/N that the most evil wizard of all time was back. She was scared for her friends and family.

Over the summer she was spent scared for her and her loved ones lives.

Her 5th year sucked. Umbridge made her entrance and immediately Y/N disliked her. She didn’t know why it just seemed like she was putting on a facade. And it was proven when Y/N got detention for standing up for Harry.

She got the blood quill that date and went to bed crying herself to sleep from the pain. Neville confronted her the next day and comforted her when she revealed what had happened. Y/N had often comforted Neville as well.

That year Bellatrix Lestrange escaped from Azkaban. Y/N knew that Bellatrix had cursed Neville's parents and they were tortured so bad they didn’t even recognize Neville. He told Y/N this in their 4th year when he found her crying and finally told her about his parents.

Y/N instantly felt bad for crying when her parents were dead while his were alive and had no memories.

Y/N had joined Dumbledores army when it was created. She wanted to learn more so she could protect people who couldn’t. She often got angry when she couldn’t perform a spell right and almost gave up once.

“You can’t just quit,” Neville replies, staring at Y/N who was trying to cast a Patronus.

“I can’t do it, maybe I’m just not cut out for this,” Y/N says in defeat sitting down on the steps.

“You can do it I know you can,” Neville reassures sitting down next to her.

“I keep trying and all I do is fail and fail,” Y/N says as she sniffles. Tears start to roll down her cheeks. “Everyone else can but why can’t I,” She whispers. She can tell that Harry was getting irritated that she was behind.

“I’ll help you,” Neville quietly says, giving her a head which she hugs back.

And in a week she was finally able to produce a Patronus with the help of Neville. She used a memory of her, Neville, Ginny, and Luna. It was night where she and her friends were just talking and joking at the Three Broomsticks.

When Harry went to get Sirius back from Voldemort everyone including Y/N insisted that they should go. Harry was hesitant at first but let everyone come.

It was hard since Death Eaters were there already and a fight broke out. Y/N didn’t believe that she could fight any of the death eaters til she face one of them. It was a simple spell, Stupefy, that sent the guy flying back.

Y/N fought against the death eaters as the order came into help when all hope was lost. She saw when Sirius Black was killed by Bellatrix and saw the agony on Harry’s face as he tried to get out of Lupin's grasp to go after Bellatrix with tears running down his face.

Y/N with the rest of her peers found Harry on the ground with a weird look on his face. She looked at him with sympathy as he talked to Voldemort. Then went into shock when she saw Voldemort standing right there in front of Harry.

Her 6th year wasn’t the best either. With Voldemort officially back everyone was on edge because of it. Her days were usually spent hanging with Neville and Luna. Occasionally Ginny was there as well.

But something changed in Harry. At first Y/N thought it was because of losing Sirius and the return of Voldemort. He started hanging around her and she thought he liked her.

It was proven when Harry asked her to go to the Three Broomsticks with him. Y/N accepted since her crush on him barely dwindled. She still felt something for him but she hoped that his feelings were true.

While on the date Harry seemed on edge which made Y/N extremely confused.

“Are you okay Harry,” Y/N asked as he looked around searching for something as it seemed. Harry looked at her and shook his head with a smile.

“No I’m fine just nervous,” Harry sighed.

“You’re not the only one,” Y/N reassured taking a sip of her butter beer. She felt like her heart was going to jump out of her chest from her nervousness.

While talking about her summer Harry seemed like he wasn’t listening. She felt like she was boring him or something. Why did he ask her out if all he was going to do was be bored? But then he suddenly kissed her. Y/N was surprised.

But she kissed back anyway as Harry’s hand was placed on her cheek and her hand on his neck. They sat there making out for a few minutes before they pulled back breathlessly. It was good for her first kiss.

Y/N and Harry went back to the castle, an awkward silence between them. But Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine. She didn’t know how Harry felt since he didn’t say anything except bidding her a good night.

She fell asleep with a smile gracing her lips. Over the year Harry kept taking her on dates but never asking her to be his girlfriend. She felt awkward about it since it seemed like there was no spark. But her and Harry just kept going out and having make out sessions here and there.

She felt like her feelings were changing. She vented to Neville about Harry not seeming interested in her.

Everything was revealed when they were celebrating the win of Gryffindor. Y/N was looking around for Harry when she saw him kissing Ginny. She knew she had no right to be upset since they weren’t dating. But she felt used like the only reason he took her out was to make Ginny feel jealous.

She ducked her head down so no one could see the tears running down her face. As she was making her way towards her room she ran into someone.

“Sorry,” Y/N apologized not looking up.

“Y/N what’s wrong,” Nevilles voice sounded worried as he looked down at Y/N who was surprised that it was Neville. Her and Neville sat on the stairs, her head on his shoulder.

“It sucks not being loved by the one you love,” Y/N muttered as her voice cracked a bit.

“Yeah,” Neville whispers looking down at her. The tears were still present on her face.

For the rest of the year she avoided Harry and his friends. She couldn’t even talk to Ginny, so she usually sat with Neville and Luna. She felt her sadness wash away as she spent more time with Neville. She felt her feelings grow for Neville

But at the end of the year Dumbledore was dead. Harry told everyone it was Snape who did it which shocked everybody even more.

Her 7th year was by far her worst.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione went off to find the Horcruxes to defeat Voldemort. While Y/N and Neville returned to Hogwarts with Ginny and Luna. Y/N was still on and off with Ginny.

She didn’t want to go back since Professor Snape was now going to be headmaster of the school. She didn’t know why since he was the one who murdered Dumbledore.

Over the summer Neville and Y/N got even closer as they sent owls to keep up with each other. Y/N could feel herself liking Neville in a romantic way. She didn’t understand, maybe the feelings were dormant.

She felt her heart race around him, butterflies entered her stomach as she talked to him.

When they got to the school everything seemed to have changed. Everything seemed darker and even the teachers seemed angry. Which was understandable. But it seemed like there was a bias for Slytherins.

They got out scott free with everything. When bullied anyone no detention. When anyone else including Y/N stood up for herself and her friends they got detention either in the forbidden forest or helping Filch.

She spent more time with Neville complaining about Snape and the Slytherins. It felt like the spark between them started to go off whenever they were around each other. Luna seemed to catch on but Y/N denied it.

Everything came so fast. The battle started when Harry returned with Ron and Hermione. Y/N didn’t want to admit but she was scared, scared for her friends and her own life.

Everything went crazy when Death Eaters started to approach the barrier that was put there so no one could get it. It seemed to work at first but eventually they got through.

While running through the halls trying to find Neville, she lost him when the death eaters entered. She stopped when she saw a flash of platinum blood hair in front of her.

“Draco,” Y/N gasped as she saw the Malfoy boy standing in front of her. Before she could do anything to persuade him out of doing something, Draco pointed his wand at her.

“Crucio,” Draco yelled, pointing his wand and in an instant Y/N felt instant pain.

It wasn’t the kind of pain she got when she found out Harry didn’t like her. It was like five thousand hot needles seeping into her skin. She fell to the ground twitching from the pain as she screamed. Tears of pain fell from her eyes and the pain ran its course. Draco ran off to god knows where.

After some time that felt as if it had been years and years of pain she finally felt the pain dwindle a bit.

“Y/N,” She heard someone scream her name. Through her blurred vision she saw Neville kneel down besides her as the pain was still there but it was coming down.

“Neville,” Y/N whimpers, squeezing his hand when he went to grab it. Neville looked down at her and brought her head to his lap.

“What happened,” Neville softly asked, looking over her body to see where the pain was coming from. She felt the pain dwindle as she sat and winced as a little pain was here and there.

“Crucio curse,” Y/N whispered leaning against the wall next to Neville, her head resting on his shoulder. Tears still blurred her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Who was it,” Neville immediately said as he knew how bad that curse was.

“Draco Malfoy,” Y/N muttered looking up at him. Y/N sniffled as some pain poked at her body.

“Can I try something,” Neville asked looking down at her. Y/N looked up at him and nodded wondering what he was going to do. Neville leaned down to kiss her.

Y/N kissed back putting her hand on his neck as they sat there for a minute kissing. Y/N winced as she felt some more pain.

“We better get out of here,” Neville said standing up grabbing her hand running throughout the halls to find anyone.

[ack3rlady]

The Universe Had His Back - Chapter 4

Worlds Collide

Summary: Reader and Levi finally meet but in an unexpected way.

Chapters: Three | Four | Five

Master List

Warnings: Fem! Reader, Angst, Fluff, Modern AU, Reference to Anxiety, slight swearing.

Word Count: ~ 2.1k

Inspiration: Every Second - Baekhyun

TW: The chapter contains descriptions of an anxiety/panic attack. I'm sure everyone has different experiences, but this one in particular is based on how my lovely boyfriend helps me navigate the ones I get. :)

Tags: @sooibian, @queenofcurse; Anyone else who'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

____

Levi’s POV

Levi felt like a fish out of water. The bright lights, attendants too chirpy for his liking, multiple strangers running their grubby hands over the same clothes were all making him nauseous. He wanted to turn around and flee at the very moment entered the store.

He remembered being here before, when he was with you at this exact place buying a tuxedo for your own wedding five years ago. You had forced him try on way too many of them, finding faults in each one and leaving him riled up. Many hours later when he finally walked out of the trial room wearing the perfect black suit, he was greeted by a teary eyed you. Honestly, he couldn’t tell the difference between the one currently on him, and the various others he had worn right before. But he couldn’t complain upon seeing the glee on your face.

Flashback: Five years ago

“I’m really not liking this shitty bridezilla side of you.”, Levi protested as you pushed him towards the changing rooms with the nine tuxedos you wished for him to try on – nine more than the number he was comfortable with.

“Can we just pick one and be on our way? No one is going to give a shit about what I look like when you’ll be standing beside me in all your glory.”

“Stop trying to butter me up. We're not leaving till we have the perfect tux. So, stop whining and put these on.”, you declared.

He yelped when you shoved him into a stall. ‘God, this man is infuriating sometimes!’ You smiled to yourself, listening to the constant muttering coming from inside. It was so adorable to imagine his knitted brows, scrunched up nose and his pouty lips while he complained incessantly. How you loved to annoy him! And why wouldn’t you? He looked terribly cute when he was pissed.

A few minutes passed and he emerged wearing one of the ensembles you chose.

“As much as that scowl paired up with the suit makes you look like a sexy spy, something isn't right. Can you please try the next one?”, you bat your lashes at him.

He shook his head at the melodrama and turned on his heel with a loud sigh. The next one wasn’t right either. Neither were the many others he wore after that. Oh, he was so livid! He threatened to leave every few minutes, but one pleading look from you would melt him, and he’d return to try on the next outfit.  You knew that your puppy eyes made him completely malleable. And he knew that you knew.

Finally, he dressed into the last piece you chose. Your eyes went wide when they fell on him. He looked celestial! The contrast of the velvety black suit against his porcelain skin, his grey eyes sparkling against the dark fabric, his chiseled body being accentuated by its impeccable fit – you were about to marry perfection. With glistened eyes, you engulfed him into a sudden embrace that made him tense up because of the many heads that turned towards you.

“Oh, just stop overthinking it and hug me back! Levi, you look perfect. I can’t believe I get to marry you!”, you squealed as you squeezed him tighter.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with putting me through this. Might as well call Zacharius and tell him you’re missing work tomorrow.”, he said as he finally wrapped his arms around you.

“Why?”

He leaned in slowly and breathed into your ear causing goosebumps to sprout all over your body -“Because you’re not going to be able to get any work done after I’m finished getting my payback.”

.

Present day

Levi didn’t realize how long he had been day dreaming for, following Furlan around the store until a handful of suits were shoved in his face.

“Try these on, will you?”, he requested.

“Tch! Let's just pick one and get the fuck out of this shithole. I’m not wearing these filthy clothes.” Levi comically flinched thinking about the amount of germs that just made their way on to his body by this uninvited contact, earning Furlan a quick smack on his shoulder.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Stop being dramatic and try them on!”, he pushed him towards the trial room giving him no opportunity to respond.

Levi entered one of the stalls with hopes to end this misery as soon as possible while Furlan waited outside. He emerged in a few minutes wearing the first one, a jet-black suit. Furlan rejected it saying it was too similar to what he was planning to wear himself. Then he wore the second one, a deep navy-blue. Furlan shot that one down too. Levi was starting to get worked up, complaining relentlessly under his breath, plotting the murder of his younger brother . When he put on the next set, a sharp charcoal grey three-piece, he decided it was the one he liked the least. He got out of the stall ready to rebuff this one himself before Furlan could.

“What the fuck were you even thinking while choosing this shitty -” He was interrupted by a loud gasp behind and turned to look at the source.

His breath hitched when that peachy fragrance that he had adored for years hit him like a truck. There you stood, just a few feet from him; your face ridden with shock. You were wearing a gorgeous floor length emerald gown that hugged your body at all the right places, your wavy hair cascading down your shoulders.

Levi’s heart began pounding against his chest at the stunning sight before him. He wondered if you could hear it from where you were. Your eyes were blown to twice their size, cheeks flushed, breath shaky. You looked like a deer in headlights. He opened his mouth to say something when...

You bolted.

He turned to Furlan in bewilderment as if to confirm if this had all really just happened or if it was his mind playing games.

“Are you going to just stare at me, or go after her?”

Before the future groom could even finish his sentence, Levi took off.

.

Reader’s POV

After finding Suki by the store entrance, she and you headed back to the couch you were seated earlier. You started browsing through the dresses again, only to find her constantly checking her phone.

“Will you please just choose something so we can both leave soon? What is wrong with you today?”, You were starting to get annoyed at her sudden withdrawn behavior.

She quickly apologized and grabbed a couple of gowns for you to try on before dragging you towards the trial rooms. You could hear muffled mumbling coming from the neighboring stall while you were changing into the gown Suki chose for you but you didn’t give it much thought. You were pleased with how the gown looked on you wondering when you last felt this attractive. Upon walking outside the stall to compliment her on her choice, you were greeted by her and Furlan chatting in the waiting area. Surprised, you were about to say hello just before someone emerged from the stall beside yours.

Levi? You let out an involuntary gasp causing him to turn to you. Grey eyes met yours. Did he just gasp too? The perpetual scowl on his face vanished and was replaced by raised brows, wide eyes and a mouth slightly agape. He looked like he was about to say something.

It felt like you lost control over your body. You were suddenly in motion, rushing towards the nearest escape you could find; Suki trailing behind. Right as you reached the store’s exit, a hand harshly grabbed your shoulder.

“You can’t leave in that dress! We’ll get in trouble for shoplifting!”, Suki panted, finally catching up with you.

She was right. But you were incapable of thinking straight at the moment. So, when you spotted a restroom, you barged inside pulling her in with you and locking the door shut.

It felt like the air was devoid of oxygen. Your breathing began to get laborious. Seconds later you were sitting on the toilet with its lid down, gasping for breath. Your right hand failed to find the comfort of your absent wedding band, that was back in the drawer of your nightstand, by blindly clutching your left ring finger.

“Are you okay? What is happening to you?”, a terrified Suki looked like she was about to cry.

“Panic...attack...”, you managed to blurt out between breaths.

She paced around the room not knowing how to help you. You were starting to feel dizzy; tears running down your face, sweat building up on your forehead, the lack of air starting to get to your brain. There was a soft knock on the door.

“Oi! Suki, let me in.”, Levi demanded from the other side.

You begged hey with your eyes not to open the door, but she did it anyway. He walked in and silently motioned her to wait outside, locking the door behind him when she left. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket, rolled it, and ran it under cold tap water keeping his eyes on you the whole time. He quickly moved to kneel in front of you, as you sat wheezing. Bringing the cold cloth to your face and pressing it against your forehead and neck, he held one of your hands with his free one.

“It's okay. I’m here.”, his soothing voice was already starting to calm you down. But you were in no mood to let him bask in the satisfaction of still having that effect on you.

“You being here... has caused this.”, you glowered while choking on practically nothing.

“Still the same old brat!”, he smirked.

Before your pathetic mess could puff out another ridiculous remark Levi angled your face towards his by cupping your cheeks with both his hands.

“I’m kneeling on this fucking filthy floor for you. So, just shut your mouth, focus on me and let me regulate your breathing.” You accepted defeat and nodded.

“Inhale.

Exhale.”

You did as he said, taking slow and deep breaths of air as he guided you. A few minutes later, your breathing was almost back to normal.

“I thought I showed you how to deal with these episodes. Did you forget?”

“I didn’t think I’d ever have to deal with one without you.”

Well, you didn’t.

.

His hands were still around your face, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as you tightly gripped the fabric of his blazer with your fists and looked into his eyes. It was like time had frozen and the whole world had come to a halt.

Suddenly, reality struck. You were seeing Levi for the first time since your divorce. Your eyes welled up and you couldn’t prevent the tears from escaping. His sinuses were stinging too. Before you could snap out of it, his hands on your face snaked around you and pulled you into an embrace, one hand caressing your hair, and the other steady around your back. You felt overwhelmed, almost wanting to push him away.

“Just stop overthinking it and hug me back.”, he mirrored your words from five years ago.

And he didn’t need to ask twice. You held onto him for dear life as while sobbing on to his shoulder.

“I miss you.”, your voice quivered.

“I miss you too.”

“Really?”

“You have no idea.”

.

Time passed as you silently sat there taking in the precious moments. You were paying attention to all his features one by one, as if trying to memorize them. His smooth black hair, bright grey eyes; did they always have a tinge of blue in them? His sharp nose, delicate lips, strong shoulders... wait, what is that?

“Fuck! Levi, I ruined your suit!” It was stained with your tears.

“That’s fine I was going to toss it anyway”, he replied, with a wave his hand.

“What? Why? It looks wonderful on you! The blue really brings out your eyes.”, You were sure you sounded like a shy school girl.

“Oh. You think so? Um... Th-Thanks.”, he tried to hide his blush behind a fake cough, causing you to chuckle. He still stuttered awkwardly every time you complimented him, even after all these years.

Levi turned to you again, in all your huffing and puffing glory following your episode - eyes swollen, nose clogged, face probably redder than a tomato.

“We need to talk.”

________

Chapters: Three | Four | Five