#but not knowing for sure is the worst part of this‚ i think. i know he's hurting‚ and he knows i know what it's like to lose a parent

[indexthejester]

01: meh I think. Getting better I suppose.

02: My friend, we say it when ending calls

03: far too much. Sometimes it hits me like a bullet to the chest. Feels like the metal ball in my brain pinballs into a bumper that gives negative points.

04: no definitely not <- she lied

05: single and looking for friends which may turn into queerplatonic relations. Not that I'm crossing my fingers.

06: slowly and calmly enough to analyze the way it feels to die, but not too peacefully that it's otherwise uninteresting.

07: Zaxby's chicken strips

08: tried a few. Not my thing. Except tennis, I liked that one. Not sure if snowboarding counts but I like that too.

09: Yes I do it sucks.

10: never had one, unless wrestling counts

11: I like many people. I love them too. I suppose I have a crush on people that I relate too, especially if I find them interesting. I want to know every part of them intimately. To drink it all in.

12: yes

13: I don't think so, I try not to. I don't think it's very useful for solving my or the world's problems, and it makes me feel pretty miserable in the process.

14: probably somewhat, I'm pretty lonely most of the time so yeah almost always. I work and live better when I'm with someone I like. Whether talking or just present in the same "space".

15: 2 family dogs, one day I'll move out and get a cat probably. Cats are great.

16: chill, minus the usual slight heartburn. Just got our of the shower and am lying in bed, getting messages from a new friend, living well.

17: no, very out of left field question

18: not really. I find them interesting though. They either look like insects or weirdly mammalian despite being neither. Weird that scorpions are more closely related.

19: nah there's nothing for me back there.

20: god I wish

21: talk to a friend and life planning

22: no, I mean I'm good with them and it's very fulfilling I just find it stressful. Right now I have so much I want to do I can't see myself adopting and settling down but maybe idk.

23: 2 for earrings

24: Math and English I suppose. Programming too if college counts

25: Maybe. Not at the moment. In recent past, it was fun to hang out at the lgbtq center in college. Sucks that I'm stuck at home now.

26: more social interaction. I may be anxious about how I reply or generally talk through textual messaging, but it makes me feel all comfy inside :3 also sleep because it is 2:36am for me rn.

27: idk

28: no

29: never had one

30: eye strain and heart burn and social anxiety.

31: I think so. I don't think it's for me to say, I try to love myself at least, though it's really hard.

32: magenta, or some other combo of purple and red. Hence the Melantha pfp. Also she's autistic.

33: yes, very much so

34: can't remember. The last one I remember was very sexual which is unusual for me.

35: cried on a call with a friend of mine I think. Just scared of the state the world's in.

36: I don't know, I don't know if I've had to

37: depends on the person I guess. Sometimes you can't do either. Just gotta learn to live with what happened.

38: So far absolutely not. But in the past 4 days I've had a lot of fun being alive. It is fun to make new friends and connect with people and have fun.

39: excluding my parents it hasn't happened

40: yes

51: chicken alphredo and chicken cordon bleu

52: I don't believe in fate, but I do believe in causality, to an extent.

53: brush my teeth I think. Maybe watch a youtube video or masterbate, though I usually do the latter as I'm falling asleep so I'm not sure if it counts.

54: I'm sure you could invent some crazy scenario where it is, but in general I think betraying your partner's trust is just about the worst thing you can do in a relationship.

55: I try not to be.

56: 0

57: when I am vulnerable and comfortable, I am filled to bursting with love for the world and everything in it. So if "true" means "pure unfiltered" then maybe yeah. Me x The Universe. Me x All My Friends.

58: bright but not too bright, grey skies, no visavle sun, chill in the air. Can move around without sweating buckets.

59: YYYYYYYEEEEEEEEESSSSSSS

60: very much so someday. Already planning it out.

61: never had it happen to me though it seems pretty boring standard. Call me your owner, handler, mad scientist, something interesting.

62: a loving community and the ability to freely create art

63: yeah obviously

64: yeah I'm too old for that it's weird

65: what are we role-playing now? I don't know, depends on the context. (Treating "sex" as "gender" for these questions btw.)

66: no, I don't. I wouldn't call any of my friends men.

67: My father but I honestly wonder if he's not a little trans

68: like a really deep conversation? Uhh definitely @thatweirdyellowrat. Haven't felt that much mental clarity after a conversation in a long time. I would not be as happy or geared to make new friends if not for that.

69: Fuck no.

70: I think so yeah, more than one actually. Which is saying something because I value my life a lot.

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[wattpadbxtch]

I’ll give u a kiss if u write freak Azzi

i gotchu queen. it's one of my favs to write ngl. azzi's literally perfect.😜

The Fucking Menace

pairing: freak!azzi x paige

warning: smut

Paige knew Azzi was different from the jump.

Like, yeah—she had been with girls before. Plenty of them. She had been good at it too. She knew how to take her time, knew what she was doing, knew exactly how to get a girl trembling underneath her.

But Azzi Fudd?

Azzi was a fucking menace.

Paige had figured it out piece by piece, but the first real clue came in the form of a text.

She had been at practice, minding her own damn business, stretching before drills, when her phone vibrated in her shorts. A quick glance at the screen showed Azzi with a little devil emoji next to her name.

Paige wasn’t dumb. She knew better than to open Azzi’s messages when she was in public. But her curiosity got the best of her. So she unlocked her phone, clicked the notification—

And nearly choked on her own breath.

It was a picture. A very NSFW picture. Azzi in front of her mirror, just a tiny pair of lace panties on, one hand between her thighs, the other holding her phone.

And the caption?

“Thinking about how good you stretch me out. Hurry up and come home.”

Paige’s soul left her body.

She locked her phone so fast she almost fumbled it, eyes darting around the gym, praying to God nobody saw her reaction. But damn, she was already flushed. Already ready to call practice early and haul ass back to her apartment.

And the worst part?

Azzi knew what she was doing.

She loved this shit. Loved getting Paige all worked up when she couldn’t do anything about it. Loved knowing Paige was sitting there, thighs clenched, trying to focus on basketball when all she could think about was Azzi’s bare skin, the little arch of her back, the fucking smirk she had on her face in that damn picture.

And when Paige finally got home that night?

Azzi was waiting for her—stretched out on Paige’s bed like a damn meal, one of Paige’s hoodies barely covering her, eyes dark with amusement.

Paige had dropped her bag on the floor, standing in the doorway, just looking at her.

“You are so unserious.”

Azzi had just grinned. “You liked it, though.”

Paige had swallowed hard. “Obviously.”

Azzi had sat up slow, biting her lip. “Then why are you still standing there?”

And that was how Paige ended up on her knees between Azzi’s thighs within five minutes of walking through the door.

But that was just one example.

Because Azzi wasn’t just a freak over text—she was unhinged in bed, too.

She had no shame. None.

She liked to talk Paige through it, liked to tell her exactly how good she felt, how much she loved it.

“Fuck, baby, this dick is so deep— look at you, stroking me like you wanna put a baby in me—shit, you know this pussy is all yours, right?*”

Paige could barely function when Azzi started talking like that.

And it wasn’t just dirty talk. Azzi was always down to try shit. If Paige so much as hinted at something new, Azzi would tilt her head all innocent-like and go, “Oh? You wanna try that? Okay, bet.”

And then she would show out.

Paige had never met a girl who could take strap like Azzi. It made no damn sense. She could go round after round, still talking her shit, still asking for more. Paige had tested her limits so many times and Azzi had never once tapped out first.

And the craziest thing?

Azzi had favorites.

Like, she would be riding Paige’s strap, hands planted on her chest, taking it like she was born for it, and she’d be talking—talking, like she wasn’t losing her mind.

“Mmm, fuck—this my favorite way to fuck you, baby— you like watching me take it? Like watching my pussy stretch around you? Shit— you love it when I bounce on it, don’t you?*”

And Paige? Paige was clenching the sheets, jaw slack, barely holding on for dear life.

Every time she thought she had the upper hand, Azzi flipped the script.

Paige was topping, sure. She was in control, technically. But somehow, Azzi always had her exactly where she wanted her.

Like that time Paige had her pinned down, strapping her slow and deep, thinking she was in charge—

Only for Azzi to wrap her arms around her, pull her close, and whisper, “C’mon, baby, you know I like it nasty. Go harder.”

Paige had nearly blacked out on the spot.

She did go harder. She did whatever Azzi told her to do, every single time.

Because Azzi Fudd was a different breed.

And Paige?

Paige was never not gonna give her exactly what she wanted.

[solxamber]

Hi Sol! Hope your having a good February so far!

Could I get a: Leona, Romantic with Shivers by Ed Sheeran?

Happy early Valentine's day!

"Like my soul's on fire" || Leona Kingscholar

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Shivers by Ed Sheeran

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 650

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Happy Ending, Realization of feelings

Leona Kingscholar doesn’t chase things.

The world has always handed him its expectations, its disappointments, its half-hearted praises wrapped in thinly veiled insults. He’s learned to shrug it all off—to take only what he needs and sleep through the rest.

But then there’s you.

And Leona doesn’t chase, no—but he follows.

Because when you burst into his life, wild and restless, dragging him by the wrist into whatever chaos you’ve concocted this time, he finds himself moving before he can think. He groans, he complains, he calls you a menace—yet he always follows.

And it should irritate him. The way you throw yourself into things with no plan, no hesitation. The way you insist on midnight road trips with no destination, on dancing under flickering neon signs, on sneaking onto rooftops just to stare at the sky. It should be exhausting, annoying—

But damn it, you make his blood burn.

And Leona, for all his grumbling, has never felt more alive.

Tonight, it’s the city. You’re out past a reasonable hour, the streets buzzing with life, headlights flashing against wet pavement. There’s a chill in the air, but you barely seem to notice, too caught up in whatever scheme has taken hold of you this time.

Leona leans against the hood of his car, watching you with that lazy half-smirk that does nothing to hide the heat in his gaze.

“Tell me there’s a plan,” he drawls, even though he already knows the answer.

You flash him a grin, eyes alight with mischief. “Where’s the fun in that?”

And of course, he should’ve known. You live for the rush, for the spontaneity, for the feeling of wind whipping through your hair as you take a leap without looking. And the worst part?

You make him want to jump too.

Before he knows it, you’ve grabbed his hand, tugging him forward. And for all his complaints, he doesn’t resist.

He never does.

Hours blur together—bright lights, laughter, stolen kisses in the shadows of alleyways. Leona doesn’t remember the last time he let himself have fun, not like this. Not in a way that didn’t feel like a performance, like something expected of him.

But with you, it’s different.

With you, it’s easy.

You don’t want the prince. You don’t want the strategist, the second-born, the disappointment, the afterthought. You just want him.

And it terrifies him.

Because Leona has spent his whole life avoiding expectations he can’t meet, avoiding fights he can’t win. He never lets himself want things too much. It’s easier that way.

But then there’s you—laughing, warm, pressing close to him as the night lingers on—and he knows, deep down, that this is a battle he’s already lost.

It’s nearly dawn when you both end up somewhere quieter, the city still humming in the distance. You’re leaning against his shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up to you, but you’re smiling, your fingers lazily tracing patterns over the back of his hand.

Leona watches you, his mind a mess of things he’ll never say out loud.

You make him want things. You make him ache.

And then, in that quiet, reckless way of yours, you say, “Leona, let’s stay like this forever.”

His breath catches.

It’s a stupid thing to say. Impossible, even. Forever isn’t real—not for people like him, who have spent their lives being second place, almost-enough, not-quite-worthy.

But you look at him like you mean it. Like you really believe it’s possible.

And damn it all, maybe he wants to believe it too.

Leona exhales, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your temple. “You sure you can handle forever with me?”

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze, your smile soft but certain. “Try me.”

And Leona, who has spent his whole life avoiding the things he can’t win, decides—just this once—to stop running.

If this is a dream, he thinks, then he never wants to wake up.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[reiding-writing]

i love ur writing sooo much, kicking my feet giggling as i reread your entire cold!reader masterlist

i think it'd be interesting to see some sexual tension between them 👁️👁️

THE CONVERSATION. — SPENCER REID!

after the hotel incident, you and spencer avoid the inevitable conversation until you can't anymore.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 2.4k | ?? | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — not really sexual tension, but definitely tension

The flight back to Quantico is suffocating.

Spencer sits across the aisle, book in hand, but you know he’s not really reading. His eyes flick over the words too slowly, the way they do when he’s using them as a shield rather than taking them in.

You don’t blame him. You’re doing the same thing—staring at the report in your lap, eyes skimming over the same paragraph for the fourth time, pretending you don’t notice the weight of his silence.

He’s quieter than usual. That alone is enough to unnerve you.

You should say something. A joke, maybe. Something dry and dismissive to shove things back into place, back into before. But your body betrays you, tense and unwilling to bridge the gap.

So you sit in it. The not-quite silence, the too-loud hum of the jet’s engines, the unspoken weight pressing into the space between you.

But things have changed.

It’s in the way he looks at you—just a second too long, like he’s cataloging every flicker of your expression, waiting for a signal he’s not sure will come.

It’s in the way you look at him, catching yourself watching the way his hands move when he flips through case files, when he tugs at his tie absentmindedly.

You hate it. The awareness, the sharp pull in your chest when he leans forward to adjust his bag and his knee barely brushes yours. The warmth that lingers too long. The way your own body responds before your mind can shut it down.

He doesn’t push. Of course he doesn’t.

Spencer is patient, careful in the way only he can be. He’s waiting—for you to say something, anything, to acknowledge what happened in that hotel room. But you don’t. You can’t. Because if you start, you don’t know where it ends.

And then there’s the team.

Emily teases, because of course she does. Some offhand remark about how you and Reid have been acting weird ever since the case wrapped up. JJ gives you quiet, knowing glances that make your stomach twist.

And Morgan—well. Morgan just smirks and says, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there’s something you two aren’t telling me,”

You brush it off. Pretend you don’t see the way Spencer stiffens beside you, or the way your face feels unnaturally warm.

It’s fine.

Everything is fine.

Except it isn’t, and you both know it.

There’s an awareness between you now. A charged undercurrent in every glance, every movement, every second you spend in the same room.

It starts small. The way you feel his presence before you even see him. The way his gaze lingers when he thinks you won’t notice. The way your body tenses when he gets too close—not in fear, but in anticipation, in something unspoken and unbearable.

So you do what you do best: you bury it.

Your tone stays sharp, clipped, practiced in its indifference. You keep the distance, keep the edge, because that’s easier than acknowledging the way his fingers linger when he passes you a case file. The way they brush against yours, fleeting but deliberate, like he’s testing the boundaries of whatever this thing is.

You pretend it doesn’t affect you.

But it does. It does.

He doesn’t push. Spencer never pushes. But you know he’s waiting.

Waiting for the moment you slip up. Waiting for you to let the mask crack, even just a little. Waiting for you to admit what he already knows—that you feel it, too.

And the worst part?

You almost want to.

The tension is worse when it’s just the two of you.

It sneaks in during the in-between moments—when the rest of the team is occupied, when there’s no buffer, no reason to pretend the air between you isn’t thick with something unspoken.

In the conference room, you hand him a report, your fingers brushing his for the briefest second. He inhales sharply, a quiet thing, barely audible over the rustle of paper, but you hear it. Like it’s the first breath he’s taken all day.

You ignore the way your own breath catches.

In the break room, you’re pouring sugar into your takeout coffee when he walks in. You don’t look at him, don’t acknowledge the way his presence shifts the entire atmosphere of the room. But you feel him. Standing just close enough to press at the edges of your space, just far enough to keep it appropriate.

When he speaks, his voice is softer. Careful. “You should try decaf in the afternoons. Too much caffeine can increase cortisol levels, and you already don’t sleep enough,”

You roll your eyes, sip your coffee anyway. “Noted.”

It’s clipped, controlled. Everything about you is controlled.

But the silences are getting longer.

The pauses between words stretch too thin, stretched tight like a wire pulled to its limit. Every unspoken thought, every question neither of you dares to voice, hangs between you.

One day, something’s going to snap.

—

A week passes, and the tension becomes unbearable.

It’s everywhere. In the hallway, when you walk past each other just a little too close. In the team meetings, when your eyes meet across the table and neither of you look away. In the casual brushes of hands—when your fingers touch for a fraction of a second, a spark you both feel but don’t acknowledge. Every accidental touch lingers too long, and every word is too charged with meaning, too heavy with what’s unspoken.

You hate it. You hate how easily you fall into this strange, uncharted territory with him, how you can't seem to escape the gravity of what happened. And yet, every time you think you’ll address it, every time the words almost slip out, something pulls you back into the silence.

It’s late, way past normal office hours. The rest of the team has long gone home, but you’re still here, hunched over case files with Spencer.

There’s a strange, muted quiet to the space between you, and for once, it’s not just the weight of all the cases you’ve been working on. It’s the weight of this—the silence that surrounds you both, thick enough to choke.

Spencer doesn’t say anything for a long while. You’re both too immersed in the reports, in pretending to focus on the paperwork instead of whatever's hanging between you. But then he puts the file down, leans back in his chair, and the words come, simple and deliberate.

“Are we ever going to talk about it?”

It’s quiet. Too quiet. And the air in the room shifts. You freeze for a moment, caught off guard. Your mind instantly races to shut it all down, to run from the conversation you’ve been avoiding for days.

You open your mouth, prepared to deflect, to push it all back into the vault of things you don’t talk about. But then you meet his gaze.

His eyes are earnest, softer than you’ve ever seen them. There’s hope in them, and maybe something else—something fragile, something vulnerable. He’s not pushing you, not demanding anything. Just waiting.

And suddenly, you realise that you don’t want to run anymore.

You feel it in your chest, that sharp pang of wanting to bridge the gap between you, to close the distance that’s grown between you both over the past week. Maybe you don’t have the right words. Maybe you never will. But for once, you’re not afraid to try.

You swallow hard and finally speak, your voice quieter than usual, rough with the weight of everything unspoken.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Let’s talk.”

The silence that follows isn’t empty. It’s thick with everything you’ve been holding back. And then—something shifts. The air between you crackles. You both lean in slightly, but neither of you makes a move. Not yet.

And then, without another word, Spencer stands, stepping toward you with that same quiet intensity. It’s a move you didn’t expect, and for a moment, you freeze. But then he’s closer, his breath warm against your skin, and you realize that he’s waiting for you.

Your heart races, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you let him close the distance, and this time, there’s no hesitation.

The kiss is slow. Tentative at first, like both of you are afraid to shatter the fragile moment. But it deepens quickly, and it’s everything—everything you’ve been feeling without knowing how to express it. His lips are gentle but insistent, a soft pressure against yours that makes your pulse spike.

You kiss him like it’s the only thing that matters, because in this moment, it is.

The kiss lingers in the air, charged and unresolved, as you both pull back just enough to catch your breath. You’re still close, too close, your faces a breath away from each other, and the space between you hums with something different. Something new.

You break the silence first, your voice tinged with that familiar edge of sarcasm that you use to shield yourself. “That’s not exactly us talking.”

Spencer freezes for a moment, his expression shifting from confusion to a slight grimace. He knows you’re not exactly serious about it, that the tone you’ve carried throughout the whole exchange has been more about self-preservation than actual disappointment.

But the weight of it still settles on his shoulders, and he winces at the mild reprimand, even though he understands it’s more a defence mechanism than anything else.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mutters quickly, the apology falling out of him without hesitation. His eyes are a little wider than usual, like he’s bracing for something more, but he also knows it’s not really warranted. You’re not angry with him. You never were.

But the words are enough to make you exhale sharply, and you roll your eyes as you shift back slightly, breaking the proximity just enough for your mind to catch up with everything that’s just happened.

You study him for a moment, watching how his hands twitch slightly at his sides like he’s trying to keep himself together. His eyes are wide, darting between yours, looking for some kind of confirmation.

“I like kissing you… sorry—” he blurts, his voice cracking slightly as the words tumble out in a rush, and then he keeps talking, his words pouring out like he’s finally letting go of the tight grip he’s been holding on everything.

“I’ve wanted to for so long, but I was scared that you wouldn’t be into it. I mean, I’ve seen how you act with me, and I get it, I do, I just—” He stumbles over his own thoughts. “I didn’t want to ruin things between us. You’re—well, you’re you, and I’m me, and I didn’t know if you’d even want that, you know?”

You blink at him, trying to process the flood of words, and for a moment, it’s overwhelming. He’s still standing too close, so you take a step back, crossing your arms defensively as you try to steady yourself.

“Spencer,” you start, your voice gentle but firm, “you need to breathe.”

His eyes flicker at your words, and you see the immediate tension in his face relax a fraction, but only a fraction.

“Listen,” you continue, your voice steady now as you push past the weight of the awkwardness. “I’m not exactly a romantic person, okay?” You can feel the vulnerability creeping in, but you don’t let it overwhelm you.

“I don’t—” You sigh frustratedly. “I don’t know how to do this, or what I’m supposed to say, but… I don’t want you to think I’m rejecting you. I just— I need to know where we’re going with this. And I need to know what you want.”

Spencer opens his mouth to say something but falters, clearly still unsure of how to navigate this strange, new territory with you. You take a deep breath, feeling the space between you growing thicker with every second.

“I need you to be straightforward, Spencer,” you say, softer now. “Just— tell me what you want from this,”

For a moment, Spencer just stands there, eyes fixed on you, as though trying to read between the lines of what you’ve said. And then, finally, his shoulders relax as he nods.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” he says quietly, his voice earnest, “but I do want this. And I want you to know that, even if I’m nervous and all over the place, I’m not trying to make things difficult. I just want to— be with you. If that’s something you’re open to.”

You chew on his words for a moment, and the weight of them hits you all at once. He’s not asking for anything more than what you’re willing to give, and he’s not rushing you, either. The idea of having someone like Spencer—someone who isn’t expecting perfection from you, who’s patient enough to understand your walls—feels almost… safe.

You take a deep breath.

“I’m not good at this. But I don’t want to screw it up either.” You step forward a little, trying to meet him halfway. “I can’t promise all the right words or the grand romantic gestures, but if you’re okay with that…” You pause, meeting his gaze squarely. “I’m willing to try.”

Spencer exhales slowly, his eyes lighting up just slightly, the weight of relief crossing his face. He doesn’t move closer, but the air between you feels a little less tight, a little less heavy.

“That’s good enough for me,”

The words settle between you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s no tension—just the quiet understanding of what comes next.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Quinn wanting to pamper us but he's not really sure what he's doing?

"Am I doing this right?"

Quinn's fingers clumsily prodded at your shoulders, hoping whatever he was doing felt okay. His latest injury of the season had him staying in Vancouver instead of traveling with the team. For several weeks, his mood hadn't been the best, and you had dealt with the worst of it. Now, he wanted to apologize for his behaviour, and treat you in a way where you wouldn't think he was just trying to buy you off.

He had made you dinner, which had been wonderful, even though you had offered to help him. Quinn wasn't having any part of it, and every time you'd try to, he'd insist you just have a seat. He knew what he was doing in the kitchen, but you felt guilty just watching him do everything by himself.

Now, however, he had decided to massage your shoulders as you sat in front of him on the floor, with him on the sofa. Though the sounds you were making made him wonder if he wasn't just causing you more pain. "It seems like I'm hurting you."

"No, no, you've just-- Ow!"

Quinn withdrew his hands immediately, "I'm sorry!"

"You don't have to stop. That's just a tender spot." You laid your head towards your right shoulder, hoping to alleviate some of the sharp tension that Quinn had triggered. "I'm alright."

"Are you sure?" He questioned, slowly returning his warm hands to your skin. "I never want to hurt you."

Breathing deep, you closed your eyes against the pain once more, hoping to hide it from Quinn, so he wouldn't keep thinking he was making everything worse. "Ye--yeah, I know.

"Baby, if you want me to stop, I will. I don't like making you feel this way -- doing more harm than good. How about I just make you an appointment for a massage tomorrow?"

Letting out the held breath you didn't realize you were holding, you felt like you had somehow hurt his feelings. "Quinn, I'm good. I've just got some-- really painful knots in my shoulders. They're going to hurt until I get them dealt with. You haven't done anything wrong."

Leaning down to kiss the inflamed skin, Quinn later let his fingers undo the scrunchie holding your hair in place. As the locks fell about your face, he coaxed you to lay your head back while he decided that a scalp massage would be a better option. Instantly, your eyes rolled closed feeling his digits work deep into your hair. He was slow in his movements; applying the right amount of pressure to take your breath away -- in the best way possible.

"Is this better."

Containing the urge to let a moan answer for you, you swallowed hard before answering, "You-- have no idea. Thank you, baby."

His soft laughter at your words made him feel better. "You're welcome. And thank you, for everything these past few weeks."

Words were beginning to be difficult for you, "Oh, it's-- it's no problem. I know things have been hard for you."

It was insane how good his fingers felt --how good he was with his hands-- and you could have drifted off to sleep had it not felt as good as it did.

"What do I have to do for you to do this more often?" You begged, your eyes still closed in bliss.

"Just ask me, that's all."

[dumbgoondog]

Yuji nsfw alphabet please 🙏🥺 more Yuji content in general please!

Sure! Here’s the alphabet! Good to know ya wanna see more of him! Mahito, Sukuna, and Yuji fans who knew? These three would be my most requested and popular?

MDNI +18 NSFW

Cw/Tw - Blood, public, primal play

Yuji Itadori NSFW Alphabet

(A)ftercare - Oh he is the sweetest. He’s not a pampering type, he’s still a bit of an awkward guy. Don’t think he’s not caring tho. See for him sex puts him in a zone, a mental regression. He gets it somewhere, dunno where from tho! He’s holding you, massaging you, rubbing against you, please also give him some aftercare cuz regression to back to normal is a little vulnerable. I do NOT mean age regression, I’m talking primal.

(B)ody Part - Ass, ass, ass, ass, ass! Ass ass? Assssss! Ass ass ass?! Ass!! Ass ass… Ass? Ass.

(C)um - He wants to cum inside, but be careful, ever let him go at it raw? And he’ll NEVER want to wear a condom EVER again. oh but he’s so chill and will get a vasectomy if you require it.

(D)irty Secret - That he’s a freak. On a primal level, he’s like Mahito, he’s like Sukuna. The worst part? He didn’t realize he was until he met you. It was too late, he could never turn this side of him off now. He wants to have you worship him as the king of curses, which he HATES. And loves. He wants to hunt you like prey and pin you force you to submit and bite into you to mark you as HIS mate. Yeah… tip of the iceberg and he’s the titanic.

(E)xperience - None. His hand and that’s it. He’s not even kissed anyone. Why? He’ll shrug and jus be like “I dunno, wasn’t anything that I was looking for I guess.”

(F)avorite Position - lay flat, or standing, and he’s hitting it from behind. So he can watch your ass shake with every smack of his hips, he also likes when you try to look back at him in that position.

(G)oofy - he can be goofy, but in like… a pathetic way. Humping your leg, and whimpering. Pawing at your clothes cuz his brain has turned off. He’s still so sweet tho

(H)air - messy, pink, washed, a little musky, happy trail, trail down the balls. Oh but ya know what? He likes YOU unshaven. Rainforest pussy, dick bush, all of it. He prefers hair, he doesn’t mind the shaved look tho. He guesses… but maybe he can convince you to grow it out? A little bit? Even just a patch! Please?

(I)ntimacy - he is SO romantic. Picnics, buying you gifts constantly, taking you out on dates to movies and dinners. In bed he tries. Hard. He needs practice so bear with him okay? If something happens even while his brain is off his primal brain still responds to it because he LOVES you. It’s noises of concern like little rumbles and huffs. Animal wise I’d liken it to a tiger ape hybrid in noises. He’s giving kisses and licks, he responds to safe words like a trained dog too. He also can be trained in that state to new words since sentences might get lost on him.

(J)ack off - Often. More than you’d think. He was a stressed and angry teen boy, and without any too many outlets… well he developed some habits and seeking dopamine! Like jacking off! Stress relief! Anger? No problem! Bored? Easy! Besides you don’t think that poster was cuz he liked the swimsuit, do you? Why mention Jennifer Lawrence? He knew his answer quick for Todo too.

(K)ink - please shackle him. As much as he will protest, he does like it. He likes being restrained, and letting his primal brain play into it too! Blindfolds, gags/muzzles even, and cuffs! He wants to let go and really get feral… a collar yeah? Get him one.

(L)ocation - outside. On the grass. In the forest. Please let him chase you. Or even! Chase you in the house! He’ll be a good boy and not go as fast as he can go… to start.

(M)otivation - honestly not much. He has to already be in the mood, otherwise he’s not thinking about it. However. Teasing him in public will get him riled up.

(N)o - No feet. Please. He can’t take it seriously! He’s so sorry he just can’t! It’s the funny haha kink meme! He won’t make fun of it to your face if you’re into, but if you aren’t he will make jokes about it with you! Like “oooo baby you just finished working out? Bet your feet are all hot and sweaty~! Bahahahah!”

(O)ral - Mlem mlem mlem mlem mlem mlem, in his mouth! In mouth! Please! Yum yum! Eatin fingers, Eatin other shit, Eatin everything! He’s a hungry boy!

(P)ace - BAP BAP BAP BAP BAP *grunts and growls like a sexy alpha* BAP BAP BAP BAP- fr tho he’s thumpin his hips into you like he’s punching Mahito’s face. Then he’ll take pauses where he pushes all the way in and grinds his hips into yours, grinding as deep in as he can.

(Q)uicky - Not really, just not his style… but if it’s giving you oral? Yes please!

(R)isk - oh. Oh. OH. He did not know he was into this! Please please please grind against him, push back onto him and tell him to keep it together cuz he can’t let go, not out here.

(S)tamina - yuh. He’s better than unc when it comes to cumming multiple times but in overall stamina unc still beats him. He’s going at it for a good while, as long as you’re good with it and want it!

(T)oys - okay. He’s kinda dumb about toys. Dunno why it’s just my read on him. But he likes how you react when used on you! He’s a big butt plug fan for you as well… he’s a bit shy about it tho

(U)nfair - he doesn’t really tease! Sometimes he will tho, and it’s public teasing of him fingering/groping you. He’s not grinding against you in public, but he’s got a hand on you while he’s smiling and talking to someone like nothings happening

(V)olume - he’s a bit loud, growls and grunts not too loud but when he opens and hangs his mouth open and starts pant huffing he can get loud and a bit wild with it!

(W)ild Card - he… he’s kinda thinking about the tattoos. They’re so cool he hates that they’re so cool! But he’d look so good, better than that asshole for sure! He thinks he’d look hot too!

(X)-ray - plaid boxers and boxer briefs… but also he’s got some really stupid ones. Human earthworm boxers for sure! White ones with hearts to match with his besto friendo, too.

(Y)es - Coming as a surprise, he’s open to threesomes and even foursomes! He’s not specifically thought of anyone, but it just sounds nice!

(Z)zz - yes yes! Put on a show! Cuddle! Eat snacks and drink pop! Get all lazy, let him rub your stomach, drift off together and sleep! Yessss!

[utilitycaster]

i am so curious what you think about fearne as a character, especially in the full context of this campaign, and how she ranks in terms of contributing good storytelling. she was consistently my least favorite (ie., lovely and entertaining to watch, but not personally interesting or dimensional in a way that made me care, and more often than not, frustratingly avoidant of plot or depth) and i'm wondering how much you'd relate to that. i'm interested in hearing an alternate perspective! this is an invitation for as much of your thoughts as you have them, because i love reading your posts and meta. have a great day <3

Hey anon, thank you!

I find myself in an awkward place here because I do like Fearne for a couple reasons, and I think a major one is because I think Ashley is one of the only people at the table who actually explored, in-character, that Fearne was an indecisive person who was terrified of making the wrong choices (notably during both the aftermath of the first Otohan fight, and during the whole course of Shardgate). Like, Fearne's disconnect at times from the world, and moments of self-centeredness, and indecision all felt very true to Ashley's original concept both in EXU Prime and the general concept of fey morality. I also think that in a campaign with a number of fraught familial relationships that were underserved, Fearne's was, while still not given the time I wish it had been, one of the strongest. Fearne deciding, after meeting her missing parents, that she wasn't sure if she liked them felt very earned and true, and it felt like she put in the work when she later spoke to them during the party's time resting in the Feywild.

I also give Fearne something of a pass because I think she was put in perhaps the least enviable spot of all this campaign, and that's saying something. While I think pretty much every character would have been much, much better had we focused more on their backstory and exploring and resolving that, Ashley's intended darker fairytale concept was just...abandoned. Like we got Ligament Manor and Morri, and they were great! But there was no plot for her in the feywild other than "your parents are caught up in this moon thing, and your birth father is also caught up in this moon thing". The first part came up very early and got quickly overshadowed by the rest of the whole Bassuras pile-up, and the second part came out right before the Ruidus scouting mission and was perhaps one of the worst victims of the late campaign breakneck pacing. Honestly, a lot of the feywild stuff felt oddly insubstantial - we know that breaking the fey key apparently did something, and that breaking up the meeting in Pravenier prevented Fey allies from attacking Vox Machina at the key in the end (though it's hard to say exactly what that would have entailed), but like...was the Seelie Court working in opposition? Were there any extraplanar allies in the Accord? Was the Feywild at risk here, as Ollie believed it to be? Because it never entered into Bells Hells' considerations! All the Feywild plot threads just went nowhere. Even their greatest fey ally, Ira, was far more motivated by his own dislike of Ludinus than any loyalty to Fearne; the party didn't really need to cultivate him as an ally, he just showed up.

And then, of course, there's the fact that Fearne was a Ruidusborn, but she wasn't THE Ruidusborn, she wasn't exaltant, that was Imogen - and the cool thing she did get, the spark of Rau'shan, was a great moment but was, like Ashton's titan abilities, mechanical and some cool scenes only but not relevant to Predathos in a meaningful way any more so than like, Chetney's ability to turn into a wolf was. I don't even think Ashley was being particularly indecisive, or rather, the Zathuda and Yu "should we kill them or no" scenes were excruciating in the lack of decision, but I feel that the problem was she was given absolutely nothing to fucking work with and that's not her fault. I think it's a testament to Ashley's ability as an actor that I do feel she had depth and even a little character development because she was essentially pushed into a thankless second fiddle role. When I think of the people who actually made an effort to do small solo scenes or seek other people out, Fearne praying to the Wildmother or Raven Queen and pickpocketing scenes stand out as bright spots.

So I think it's valid to be frustrated or not vibe, but I think it's entirely a DM-ing problem. This campaign was really not made to accommodate Fearne's concept.

[adhdduckie]

candy grams. g.w. x reader

my masterlist

music choice; dandelions by ruth b

word count: 2.7 k

pt 2 soon

synopsis;

you've been in love with george for almost as long as you've known him.

that makes 6 years. and for the last 5, you've been in love with him.

valentines' day is around the corner. and you think it's a great idea to send him a candy gram anonymously. a/n - no valentines this year so i thought id finally lock in and give some of yall a treat! hope u enjoy + pls interact!

George Weasley is one of your favourite people ever. He's sweet, funny and kind when he wants to be. So, many girls you know have a crush on him. So do you. It's kind of a pain, most of the time. He's your best friend, you're so integrated into his family, the burrow is your second home. Molly loves you, and so does the rest of the family.

George and Fred are both large parts of your daily life. You're one of the only people who are able to tell them apart. They look exactly the same, but you're able to tell a difference. You're not even entirely sure how you know, but you just know.

Classes with the two are entertaining, you sitting between the two on a bench, stifled giggles can be heard throughout the classroom, and are a constant in every class you have with the twins. You're closest with George, having become friends in first year when you were placed next to him in potions after snape had enough of the twins sitting together.

Although it wasn't till second year before you realised you cared about george beyond a friend should. A constant figure in your mind, and a constant figure in your life, he invaded every moment of your life.

it wasn't like he did it on purpose. he was just everywhere you turned. In the hallways, laughing with fred while they made fun of Ron, next to you in classes, sitting across from you in the great hall at feeding times, and during the holidays when he'd send you constant letters on updates of things he and his brother made in their room. You were invited over a lot, but obviously you had to spend some time with your family before you went over to the burrow.

You had lived with these feelings for years, not many knew. Fred didn't, so George didn't. Hermione seemed to be the only one that knew, and it was only because of her intelligence was she able to figure out. 5th year was honestly the worst. Your O.W.Ls were coming around, and you had the stupid pink toad umbridge for a teacher. she was a pain in the ass, constantly punishing students for practically no reason.

Because McGonagall understood how everyone was in low spirits, she introduced the muggle idea of candy grams. There were some students who found them stupid since they derived from muggles, but you wanted to try it. So, on the fourteenth of february, you bought one. Sent it to George. left it anonymous, because you just wanted him to know someone out there liked him.

you regretted sending that damn candy gram not even 20 minutes later, the moment he came bounding into the common room with a pesky grin on his face, yelling out your name.

"what?" you said as you looked up from your book.

he shoved the paper under your nose, effectively poking you in the eyes with the corner of the paper. "look! someone sent me a candy gram." he grinned at you.

"congrats?" you say, trying to keep your cool, hoping that he couldn't tell that you were the one that wrote it. You didn't want to lose his friendship. It really meant too much to you, and you'd probably rather die than lose him.

"do you not get the significance of this moment?" he clutched his chest dramatically.

"i refuse to believe someone actually has a crush on you. You're such a menace to society." you tell him, rolling your eyes, trying to keep yourself together and not end up screaming and running away.

There's a knowing glint in his eyes that you don't seem to notice, but he doesn't respond or comment on anything. He shoves the note under your nose again, forcing you to read it.

"Dearest George,

I hope this note finds you well. I couldn't keep these feelings hidden any longer, but I must remain anonymous for now. Over the years, I've cherished our friendship more than words can express. But it's evolved into something deeper, something I can't deny.

You've become the light of my life, and I can't help but feel a love that goes beyond friendship. If one day, you discover who I am and feel the same way, I'll be waiting, ready to take a chance for us.

Until then, I remain in secrecy.

sincerely and with love,

a secret admirer"

he reads out by heart, as if he's memorised the entire thing already. you gape at him, not knowing what you're actually supposed to say right now. nothing has prepared you for this moment.

"well?" he demands, plopping his weight down on the cushion next to you.

"well what?" you ask him, slightly flushed from having a love note you've written read out to you by the person you like.

"what do you think? who do you think it is?" he questions you, bombarding you with several questions when you're still trying to process what possessed you to send him the candy gram in the first place.

"man, i don't know." you tell him, shrugging, turning back to your book, trying to move the topic on.

"oh come on y/n! help me out here! I'm your best friend..." he whines, dropping his head in your lap. It's a common habit of his, invading your personal space, but let's be honest, you don't mind in the slightest.

"what do you want me to do?" you sigh. He always has a way of making you crumble. He beams instantly, Sitting upright again, almost head butting you and giving you a lovely little concussion.

"help me find out who it is!" he responds with a cheeky grin.

"why, george? are you going to make fun of them or something?" you sigh tiredly, really wanting him to give up on this, but you know how he is. once he starts, it's hard to get him to stop.

"because, what if she's hot?" he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you can't help but crack a smile at his simplicity.

"just because she might be hot? What if she's super ugly? What will you do then?" You tease him, but you do want to know what he's going to do when he finds out it was you, and crushes his hopes of it being Angelina Johnson.

"I know she's pretty." he responds in retaliation.

"how do you know?" you challenge, raising your eyebrow at him as you question your own sanity for liking someone like him.

"It's a gut feeling." he shrugs his shoulders, before standing up from the couch, offering you his hand to pull you up. you set your book down with a sad sigh, accepting his hand as he pulls you up. His hand envelops yours easily, as if they fit together, and his hands are a nice kind of warm, warm enough to make you feel happy, but not warm enough to make you clammy and sweaty. the perfect balance.

he's a lot stronger than you give him credit for, and he pulls you up easily, till you're standing almost chest to chest, well more like head to chest, since he's so much taller than you. If you looked up at him, you would be close enough to kiss. His smell envelopes you, a rich smell of freshly upturned grass and the smell of smoke and a Christmas fire.

you clear your throat abruptly, and the pair of you spring apart. you're avoiding eye contact with george, but if you looked at him you would see how the tips of his ears are red enough to match the colour of his hair.

You get a strange look from the other people in the common room, and fred, who's been close enough to hear the entire conversation, grins at what he's just realised.

He lets out a light chuckle, and you turn to look at him, raising your eyebrow. He shrugs and grins. George's deliberately avoiding eye contact, looking everywhere but you. Fred laughs louder, to the point where he needs to lean on the edge of a couch to prevent himself from falling over.

George pauses, looks at you, before he grins. "You can start helping me tomorrow." He says, before bouncing away, out of the portrait hole. Fred laughs even louder. You turn to him again, before frowning.

"what?" you ask him. It sets him off again, he only stops laughing when he starts coughing.

Fred holds up his finger, and you wait till he regains his composure. He takes another look at you before it sets him off again. You groan.

"I think i know who sent my dear brother the candy gram." He says, wiping a tear away from his eye with his index.

"oh yeah? who?" you ask. Your heart's thumping in your ears, but you're trying your best to seem calm and collected.

a smile stretches across his face, and he looks like he's planning something. "oh, my dear y/n. I do indeed. It seems the girl and i are quite close." he purrs, pulling you close into a hug. You sigh, wrapping your arms around fred.

"please don't tell him." you whisper, hiding your face into his chest. he smiles. He's viewed you as a little sister since the beginning, and he's glad you feel the same way for his brother as his brother does for you.

"i wouldn't dream of it. Unless.....?" he starts, but drifts off, not finishing the sentence.

"fred!" you whine, irritated.

"okay, okay." he laughs, pulling back from the hug, resting his hands on your shoulder, staring deep into your eyes. suddenly he goes serious, the smile dropping off his face quick.

"but seriously. If you never tell him, i'll do it eventually. You can't stay secret admirer forever, and i'm most likely going to die of frustration just watching you two." He finishes. Stepping back, plopping down onto the couch

"i shouldn't have done it fred! i don't know what i was thinking." you groan, hiding your face in his shoulder, plopping down next to him.

"well i think it was a good idea." fred says, throwing an arm carelessly across your shoulder. you groan in response, closing your eyes with a sigh.

the next couple of days are strange, to say the least. George actively seeks you out more than usual, the only topic he speaks of is his secret admirer. It's quite strange, having the object of your affections constantly speak of a romantic gesture you made toward them without them knowing. It's nice, but quite scary, to say the least.

there's the constant fear of being discovered, and when discovered, you're afraid that george is going to be disappointed that you were the one that sent it to him and not Angelina Johnson.

but whatever, you need to act as inconspicuous as possible, right? fred certainly isn't helping, constantly giggling to himself whenever the topic is brought up, while george flashes him a questioning side eye.

one day after potions lesson during lunch, you and george remain behind in the classrooms, cleaning up as a form of punishment from professor snape.

you're kneeling on the floor, cleaning up a spill from some third years. without magic. if it wasn't obvious that snape hated you beforehand, it is now.

you don't even remember what exactly it was that you did, but here you are anyway. george, who somehow got the easier task, is just sitting on a chair as he scrubs at some of the tables in the room.

"this is all your fault, george." you blame, rubbing at the persistent stain on the floor.

"how? you were the one giggling too loudly." george throws back at you. very maturely, you throw the rag you're using at his face. he blocks it, instead of hitting his face, it hits his arm with a wet 'thwump'.

'hey!" he complains at you, throwing it back at you. you duck out of the way, and it hits the wall behind you with another wet sound.

you turn to stare at where it went, and you look back at him, before you burst out into giggles together.

suddenly, you hear the sounds of footsteps, and knowing snape, you stumble to get the rag and go back the stain, rubbing at it with the best of your ability.

you hear the sound of the door groaning on its hinges as it slams open, revealing a disgruntled and angry prof snape.

“i thought. i heard laughter.” he drawls in his cold and distatched tone, the corner of his mouth turning down in distaste.

“no, professor. we wouldn’t dare. Perhaps it was Peeves running through.” you answer, in your best imitation of a innocent student, and professor turns his eyes onto you, glaring at you with distaste.

“i’d hope not. if i hear another peep out of you both, it’s 50 points from gryffindor. each.” he teels you, before swishing around in his ridiculous cape and exiting through the door.

you both turn to each other slowly, before doubling over in silent laughter, clutching your stomach insanely.

once you’ve both managed to contain yourselves, you get back to the work you’re supposed to doing, letting the silence pass between you comfortably.

you hear a little sigh leave george’s mouth, and you turn to look at him, noticing that he’s already looking at you.

“what?” you ask him, raising your brow at him.

he flushes a red that makes his freckles stand out, and you wish so desperately to count them all at some point.

you will manage to do that at some point if you’re lucky..you’ll probably have to disguise it as some kind of friendly activity…

he avoids your eye contact and he sighs, before looking back up at you for a second, before he asks, “are you sure you don’t know who wrote the candy gram?”

your heart stutters in your chest, a little part of you feeling an intense need to run as fast and as far as possible.

“yeah. sorry, george. I promise I asked around.” you so blatantly lie, and he just kind of stares at you, and he doesn’t look impressed at all. you swear his left eye twitches a little.

after a beat of you avoiding as much eye contact with him as possible, by looking somewhere else, anywhere else from him, because he honestly scares you a little and honestly any thing to do with your emotions so obviously displayed is quite terrifying.

another moment passes by you, and you try to turn your attention back to the stain you’re scrubbing at. you begin to stand up, about to go get some more soap to make sure the stain really does get out, when you hear george call your name.

‘….you do realise I can recognise your handwriting, right? we’ve been friends for ages.” he tells you, and your head whips to him so fast, you get whiplash.

“what?” you respond, ever the poet.

“your handwriting. I know you sent me the candy gram.” he mutters, standing up to match you, stalking forwards with his eyes set on you. “why are you lying?” he asks you, stopping right in front of you.

you can’t respond. you’re frozen, mouth wide open as you gape at him. he’s very close to you now, and you feel your heart thumping in your chest. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie, walking sideways as he follows you, while you try to face the door to escape.

“i know, for sure, that it was you who sent it to me.” He asserts again, following you, not to closely as to make you uncomfortable, as he is ever the kindest soul you will ever know.

you know that you are not ready to have this conversation right now, so you feign that someone is calling your name, and make a run for it. “oh. is that someone calling me? oh yes it is. Yes I’m coming!”

george tries to stop you, by putting an arm out to block you, but you duck under, sprinting out the door as quick as you can.

you’re swearing as you run, and you hear him call out your name, once, twice and then silence.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n -> this has been in my drafts for much more than a year so im glad i finally got it out... pt 2 soon!!!

pls pls pls pls interact and comment i love reading comments

[theodorenmyth]

Valentine Hunt

Pairings ; Theodore Nott x M!Reader

Summary ; Theodore Nott leaves you a trail of heartfelt clues across Hogwarts, each revealing how much he knows and cares for you. With help from his friends, he builds up to a final confession at the Astronomy Tower, where you answer—not with words, but with a kiss.

A/N ; Happy Valentine's day everyone

Warnings ; none

Wordcount ; 1.8k+

Hogwarts, February 14th — Morning

Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts was, in a word, chaotic.

Every year, without fail, the castle was transformed into a spectacle of romance—whether the students wanted it or not.

This year, however, was especially bad.

Rumor had it that Professor Lockhart had bribed Dumbledore into letting him return for a “special, one-day-only Celebration of Love” event. And, unfortunately, that meant Hogwarts had been utterly butchered in his signature over-the-top style.

The moment you stepped into the Great Hall, you were assaulted by an explosion of pink.

Heart-shaped lanterns floated near the enchanted ceiling, casting a soft, rosy glow over the students below. Enchanted rose petals drifted down like snow, catching in people’s hair and robes. The worst part, however, was the cherubs—dozens of them, fluttering through the hallways, giggling as they swooped down on unsuspecting students, reciting love poems so mortifying they made even the boldest Gryffindors squirm.

You slid into your usual seat at the Slytherin table, rubbing your temples. “This is a nightmare.”

“You’re telling me,” Theodore muttered beside you. “If one of those bloody cherubs comes near me, I’m hexing it.”

Mattheo, sitting across from you, smirked. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Further down the table, Pansy sighed dramatically, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Honestly, you lot are so unromantic. Valentine's Day is adorable.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “You do realize it looks like a Pepto-Bismol factory exploded in here, right?”

Astoria, nibbling on a piece of toast, giggled. “He has a point.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Lorenzo said. “People actually putting effort into romance for once.”

Draco, ever the cynic, rolled his eyes. “It’s desperation, Berkshire, not effort.” He gestured to the Hufflepuff table, where a poor fifth-year had just been ambushed by three cherubs at once. “Look at that. Tragic.”

You snorted, turning back to Theodore—only to find him deep in thought, idly twirling his quill between his fingers.

Suspicious.

“You alright, Theo?”

He startled slightly, snapping out of his daze. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

You hummed, not entirely convinced.

Unbeknownst to you, Theodore had spent weeks planning what was about to unfold.

Because this year, he wasn’t spending Valentine’s Day sulking over how much he hated it.

This year, he had a goal.

And that goal?

To finally—finally—get you to be his Valentine.

And, of course, his friends knew all about it.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Hogwarts, February 14th — The Master Plan

Later that morning, in a tucked-away corner of the dungeons, a secret council of scheming had gathered.

Theodore paced in front of the group, arms crossed. “Alright. Last-minute review.”

Pansy, perched on a stone bench, smirked. “You mean last-minute panic.”

“Shut up.”

Mattheo leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “So, eight clues, yeah?”

Theodore nodded. “Each one leads to a new location, with hints about me—nothing too obvious, but enough that he should figure it out by the last one.”

Astoria beamed. “It’s adorable, Theo.”

Blaise, ever the realist, sighed. “He’s also a bit of an idiot. What if he doesn’t get it?”

Lorenzo snickered. “Then we force him to get it.”

Draco, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else, drawled, “Are we absolutely sure this is necessary? You could just—oh, I don’t know—talk to him?”

“No,” Theo said flatly.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Merlin, you’re helpless.”

Theodore scowled. “Look, I know he likes me back—at least, I think he does. But he’s oblivious. If I just tell him, he might— I don’t know—think I’m joking or something.”

Mattheo nodded solemnly. “Oblivious is an understatement. You could kiss him and he’d probably go, ‘Wow, Theo, you’re such a good friend.’”

Theodore groaned. “Exactly.”

Astoria clapped her hands together. “Well, that’s why we’re here! Operation get Theo a Valentine is officially in motion.”

Blaise snorted. “That’s a terrible name.”

She stuck her tongue out.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is idiotic.”

Lorenzo grinned. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Draco scowled. “Unfortunately.”

Pansy waved him off. “Alright, everyone knows their part, yes?”

The group nodded.

Mattheo grinned. “Then let’s get this poor bastard a boyfriend.”

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Hogwarts, February 14th — Clue One

The plan was simple.

Each clue was carefully placed in locations you frequented—places tied to small, personal moments between you and Theo. The first? Your Potions textbook.

Professor Snape had barely begun his lecture when you flipped open your book—only to have a neatly folded note flutter onto your desk.

You blinked. That definitely wasn’t there before.

Suspicious.

Unfolding the parchment, you read:

"I hear love potions smell different to everyone. What does yours smell like?"

You frowned. Amortentia?

You had smelled it before—warm parchment, fresh rain, and something else you could never quite place.

Weird.

You glanced around the room. No one was looking at you—except Theodore, who quickly turned away, pretending to be utterly fascinated by his cauldron.

Very suspicious.

Mattheo, sitting beside you, leaned over. “Something interesting?”

You sighed. “I think someone’s messing with me.”

Lorenzo smirked. “Or maybe someone’s flirting with you.”

You snorted. “Unlikely.”

Blaise hummed. “You’re so dense.”

You rolled your eyes.

But still, you couldn’t help but wonder—who was behind the notes?

And why did it make your heart race just a little?

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Hogwarts, February 14th — Clue Two

After Potions, you spent most of the class break trying to figure out who had left you the note.

It had to be someone who knew you—someone who had access to your things without you noticing.

That narrowed it down to a very small group of people.

Mattheo? Possible, but he’d have rubbed it in your face already.

Lorenzo? He was a hopeless romantic, but this seemed too subtle.

Pansy? She would meddle, but she wasn’t exactly poetic.

Astoria? No, not really.

Blaise? He didn’t have the patience.

Draco? Absolutely not.

Which left—

You frowned.

No. Not Theodore.

You quickly shoved the thought away, it couldn’t be him.

You and Theo had been friends for years, and sure, you may have had an embarrassingly huge crush on him, but he didn’t feel the same way. Did he?

Lost in thought, you barely noticed when someone nudged you in the hallway.

Pansy.

“Oi, lover boy.” She smirked, holding out a small, folded parchment. “Looks like you’ve got mail.”

You narrowed your eyes, taking the note. “Where did you—?”

“Oh, I just happened to find it in your Charms seat.” She winked, sauntering off before you could question her further.

Unfolding the note, you read:

"You once told me the stars made you feel small, but I think you shine brighter than any of them."

Your heart stuttered.

What the fuck?

You remembered that conversation.

It had been late one night in the Astronomy Tower, just you and Theo. You’d been staring at the sky, lost in thought, and had offhandedly mentioned how insignificant everything felt under the stars.

And Theo—he’d given you this look. Something warm, something unreadable. Then, he had muttered something under his breath—something you hadn’t quite caught.

Was this what he had said?

You swallowed hard.

Could it really be him?

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Hogwarts, February 14th — Clue Three

By the time you reached the library, your mind was spinning.

You needed answers.

Instead, you found another note.

Tucked between the pages of your favorite book—the one you always reread when you needed comfort.

"You always reach for this when you think no one is looking. I notice."

You exhaled sharply.

This was too personal. Too specific.

Whoever was leaving these knew you better than anyone.

And, at this point, there was only one real possibility.

Your stomach twisted.

Was it really Theo..?

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Hogwarts, February 14th — Clue Four

You weren’t given much time to dwell.

Because, the moment you stepped into the common room, Astoria ambushed you.

“Oh, there you are!” She beamed, grabbing your arm. “Come with me.”

You barely had time to protest before she dragged you across the room—straight to the fireplace, where a single chocolate frog box was waiting on the mantel.

With a note.

"I know you always steal mine, so I figured I'd get you one of your own for once."

Your lips parted slightly.

You did steal Theo’s chocolate frogs. Constantly.

He always complained about it.

Yet, he never stopped bringing extra.

Your heart pounded.

It had to be him.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Hogwarts, February 14th — Clue Five

Lorenzo caught you in the courtyard.

“Took you long enough,” he teased, holding out yet another note.

You grabbed it, unfolding it quickly.

"I hate mornings, but I don’t mind them as much when you’re there."

Your breath hitched.

You and Theo always sat together at breakfast. Most days, he was half-asleep, grumbling into his tea, but he always let you steal bites of his food without complaint.

You looked up at Lorenzo. “This is Theo, isn’t it?”

He grinned. “Took you long enough.”

Your stomach flipped.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Hogwarts, February 14th — Clue Six

By now, you were actively searching for the next clue.

And you found it easily.

Sitting on your bed in the dormitory.

Your pillow had been slightly shifted, revealing a note tucked beneath it.

"You’re the last thing on my mind before I sleep, and the first thing when I wake up."

You sat down hard.

Your hands trembled slightly as you held the parchment.

This wasn’t just flirting.

This wasn’t just some silly game.

Theo—he felt something.

Something real.

And he wanted you to know.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Hogwarts, February 14th — Clue Seven

Blaise was waiting for you outside the Great Hall.

He smirked, holding out a final note.

But this one—this one was different.

Not just a short sentence.

A full, proper confession.

You unfolded it carefully, reading:

"I’ve spent years watching you, admiring you, falling for you.

And maybe I should’ve said something sooner, but—

Well, I’m saying it now.

Meet me in the Slytherin Common Room at midnight. If you want this—if you want me—I’ll be waiting."

Your breath hitched.

This was it.

This was real.

And you knew exactly what you were going to do.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Hogwarts, February 14th — Clue Eight (Finale)

Midnight.

When you stepped into the common room, it was empty except for Theodore, standing by the fireplace, hands shoved into his robe pockets.

You hesitated.

“So,” you said, voice light, “was this your doing?”

Theodore shifted, looking almost shy. “Maybe.”

You smirked. “You do realize you could’ve just asked, right?”

He scoffed. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You grinned, stepping closer. “So? What now?”

His fingers curled and uncurled at his sides. “Now I ask you— will you be my Valentine?”

The question hung between you, quiet and uncertain.

You didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Yeah, Theo. I will.”

His breath hitched. “Really?”

You laughed, reaching up to tug him down by the collar of his robe. “Really.”

And then you kissed him.

Outside the common room, the rest of your friends stood, eavesdropping with victorious grins.

Mattheo smirked. “Told you he’d say yes.”

Pansy pocketed a handful of sickles. “And I told you Theo would need a whole damn scavenger hunt to actually confess.”

Astoria beamed. “Best Valentine’s Day ever.”

[taniamunson]

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 ; ex-boyfriend!eddie x fem!reader

summary: After rehab, you return to Hawkins to find that nothing has changed… except you. And Eddie Munson.

warnings: Substance abuse, depression, mental health struggles, rehabilitation, family tension, past relationship drama, possible triggers for anxiety or trauma.

‼️ I don’t speak English perfectly, my native language is Spanish, and although I’ve taken many classes, my English is not perfect. I’m sorry if it sounds too “formal” or if something is unclear, please feel free to correct me. Thank you. ‼️

━─━────────━─━━─━───────

The first breath of air in Hawkins hits you with a weight you didn’t expect. There’s something about this town that feels dense, as if the air is mixed with memories you’d rather leave buried. Everything here is steeped in what you were, what you did, what you lost.

As your mom’s car stops in front of the house, you feel like time has frozen in this place. Nothing has changed. The paint on the fence is still peeling, the mailbox is still crooked, and the window in your room still has the small crack in the corner they never bothered to fix.

The only difference is how you feel seeing all of it.

Your mom turns off the engine and looks at you, a smile that’s a little forced.

“Ready?”

You don’t answer. Not because you don’t want to, but because you don’t know what to say. Ready for what? To pretend everything’s fine? To face the stares of people who think they know who you are? To return to the place where everything fell apart?

You grab your backpack from the back seat and get out of the car. The house smells the same as always: old wood and a hint of cheap perfume your mom insists on spraying everywhere. It’s a familiar smell, but instead of comforting you, it makes you feel like you’re in someone else’s house.

Your brother is in the living room, playing with the chain of his lighter, though he’s not smoking. He looks up when you enter and studies you for a second before letting out a dry laugh.

“Wow, you survived.”

Your mom smacks him on the arm, but he just shrugs. You don’t react. It doesn’t bother you, not even a little. He’s always been like that: indifferent, a bit of a jerk, but not with bad intentions.

“Are you hungry?” your mom asks, changing the subject too quickly.

He shakes his head, and you head upstairs, feeling his gaze follow you until you disappear down the hallway.

When you push the door to your room open, the smell of dust hits you like a punch. Someone made the bed and put some of your things away, but not enough to make it feel different. You still have the same blanket with a small cigarette burn in the corner, the same lamp on your nightstand with the busted bulb you never replaced, the same shoebox under the bed with memories you’d rather forget.

You sigh and drop your backpack to the floor before lying down on the bed.

You’re home.

But you don’t feel like you belong here. A small part of you would’ve preferred staying in that stupid hospital, though another part of you hated it.

The center had white walls, that clinical shade that made you feel like you were in a hospital instead of a recovery center. Each day had a strict routine: wake up early, group therapy, individual therapy, activities to “reconnect with yourself,” bland meals, more therapy.

The first weeks were unbearable.

Withdrawal hit you like a train, with headaches, insomnia, and an anxiety that made your skin feel like it didn’t belong to you. You cried more than you’d like to admit. You hated every second. But the worst part was the loneliness.

There was no noise to distract you, no way to escape your own mind. And when there was nothing else to focus on, you realized how much you’d ruined your own life.

It wasn’t until one of the therapists asked you a simple question that everything clicked.

“If you went back to Hawkins tomorrow, what would you do differently?”

You didn’t know how to answer. Because you weren’t sure you’d do anything differently.

Your family? They’ve been acting strange. They look at you too much, as if they’re waiting for you to do something. Your mom tries too hard to be affectionate, your dad is showing interest in your life, your brother is holding back from making “too cruel” comments.

It’s not that they didn’t pay attention before, but it was never like this. They were never the type to ask questions or try to get involved in what you were doing. Before, you could go days without exchanging more than two words with them.

Now, suddenly, they’re acting like a normal family.

And that’s what bothers you the most.

Because it means they see a problem with you now. That they think they need to watch you. That they feel guilty.

They don’t mention what happened. They don’t mention the overdose in the school bathroom, the ambulance, or the weeks you spent in that chlorine-scented center. But every word, every gesture, every glance is filled with something that was never there before: caution.

As if you were a ticking time bomb.

And as if that weren’t enough, you can’t sleep.

You toss and turn in bed, but your mind won’t shut off. Tomorrow, you go back to school. To the hallways that felt like a prison. To the same faces that saw you at your worst.

To the possibility of seeing him.

You squeeze your eyes shut, as if that could push the thought away.

You don’t want to think about Eddie Munson. You don’t want to remember his voice shouting at you that night, the last time you spoke before everything went to hell. You don’t want to remember the expression on his face when he realized you were pulling away, and you definitely don’t want to remember the cassette you left at his house, the one he probably threw away the second you disappeared from his life.

You force yourself to take a deep breath. To calm down.

Tomorrow will be the real test.

Tomorrow, you’ll know if you can really do this.

Or if Hawkins will drag you back.

[littelovelunette]

Services top vi is everything omg could you do like a mean femme reader with vi and vi being a bit of a simp for her (more loser! vi that was soooo good)

Loser Lover (3)

Contains smut, degradation, obsessive vi, strap, nipple play, oral

after having dominated vi for the first time something in you had clicked and made you somewhat arrogant with her throughout the entire relationship, the dynamic was already weird as it was with vi; despite being the taller, older and muscular one between the both of you she was somehow very obedient and just like a little puppy to you

very unlike all the other pig you'd dated before anyway.

she could never say no to something you did or demanded

vi was exactly what they'd call a service top and today you had one of the worst days at class due to the recent outbreak of rumours that you both were together, you hadn't made it an exclusive thing yet and people were already driving you nuts with the rumours

"hey princess you look like you had a bad day," vi said offering you a steamy mug of coffee which you gladly accepted, it was your comfort drink

"thanks," you muttered to her and took a small sip of the coffee, "it's good," you added before deciding to reply to what she had initially said, "yeah just schools been all up in my head. need to blow off some steam," you glanced at your coffee mug, "literally."

vi laughed a little coming closer and encircling her strong arms around your waist, "yeah? what can i do for you my princess?"

"just, y'know, fuck me," you said so blatantly that vi almost choked on her own saliva she composed herself and nodded, "I um see..."

vi watched you finish your coffee before you wrapped your arms around vi's neck, she picked you up with ease as she carried you to the bedroom, "so... you want me to use the strap on you huh?"

"don't get cocky," you warned

"alright, alright," vi chuckled and let you down, letting her tanktop fall off her figure exposing her beautiful muscular figure underneath, nipples perky and pierced.

vi undid her pants and let them fall too, pussy adorned with a bush and thighs as muscular as ever. you bit your lips at the sight, "cmon, suck mommy's boobs yeah,? you know you wanna you're such a good little fucktoy aren't you?"

your words were enough, instantly vi crawled on top of you and impatiently undressed you. once you were completely undressed vi started sucking on one of your perky nubs, twisting and pulling the other.

"fuck, little slut for me, little slut all for mommys pleasure," you cursed, "s-so fucking well," your fingers found their way to her hair caressing her hair and holding her in place as she continued sucking on your boobs like a little infant. it was cute to watch her like this.

"okay okay that's enough. get to the actual fucking already," you said after a while and vi looked up from where she was, you handed her the strap that she was quick to put over her waist, readying herself to absolutely rail the fuck out of your tight little cunt

vi held your hips and looked at you for your affirmation, "go ahead, bitch, whatcha waiting for?" you said and vi slipped the dildo inside earning a series of profanities and moans from you, her eyes were cautiously locked onto your face to ensure you were doing well you were her absolute top priority through everything in life

she wanted to make sure you had the best of the best even when it came down to sex

quite frankly vi didn't think she was deserving of you she thought you deserved way better but she never bothered you with her insecurities because a part of her knew deep down you wanted her just as bad as she wanted you

"f-fuck, slut, it's so good you're doing amazing keep doing that," you moaned out as she pounded the dildo with slow measured thrusts but it was still enough to send you reeling because of the amount of force put into every single thrust of her hips, strap already covered with your sleek juices and arousal you were getting closer to cumming with every thrust

"f-f-fuck," you stuttered as vi got faster.

"am i doing okay? want this dildo deeper?" she asked and you couldn't help letting out a desperate moan and nodding at her, vi smiled and grabbed your legs holding them up but not folding you

she had learnt a lot from you when you had strapped her the previous day and she was putting her newly learnt knowledge into good use

with great power came great responsibility, "im gonna make you cum," vi said and you gasped for air nodding along to her words eitherway

you screamed as you came all over the dildo, liquids gushing out of your pussy obscenely vi didn't waste a second and lurched her mouth towards your pussy greedily lapping up at whatever came out of your pussy

you were sure this girl was obsessed with you

you smiled at her, entangling your fingers in her hair absentmindedly, "I'm thinking of making this relationship exclusive you get me?"

"exclusive?" vi looked up, tongue still pressed against your clit

"yeah," you answered and let out a small breathy sigh, "we'll have to... make some improvements though," you said and continued running your fingers through her hair as she licked and sucked your pussy obediently

she'd have to be able to fit in, huh...?

[myloveer0]

My lovely darling

Girlfriend Ambessa Medarda X Fem!reader

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Summary: You were just trying to survive your family reunion when Ambessa Medarda—your girlfriend—showed up unannounced. Now, you have no choice but to introduce her to your entire clan. What’s got you nervous isn’t just introducing any partner—it’s the fact that you’re dating a woman who also happens to be twice your age.

💋 Enough with the smut we need sweet girlfriend Ambessa💋

Well… I didn’t expect everyone to like it that much, but anyway, here’s part 2. Part 3 will be last and be upload the day after tomorrow.... Enjoy reading!😊😉

Part II

This was not how tonight was supposed to go.

You had it all planned out—show up to the family reunion, smile through the awkward small talk, dodge questions about your love life, and make a graceful exit by faking a headache. The perfect escape. Then you'd be back to your regular life—your job, your apartment, and most importantly, your girlfriend.

Simple. Easy. Safe.

But Ambessa had other plan.

Amazing? She literally flew from the other side of the country just to see you—because she missed you already. Like you’d left her and promised to be back after two weeks.

And now, here she is, showing up before those weeks are even over… and demanded to meet your parents. You should’ve run. You should have. But with Ambessa’s hand wrapped firmly around you telling there was no turning back.

So now, here we were. Standing on your parents’ porch, the warm glow of the house lights peeking through. You could still hear the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation from inside, but all you could focus on was the weight spinning on your mind.

“You nervous?” Ambessa asked, her voice low, amused.

You shot her a look. “You think?”

She chuckled softly, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple. “Relax. They’ll love me.''

You release a nervous laugh. You weren’t so sure about that.

Standing in front of the double doors, the weight of what was about to

happen doubled this time. You turned to face Ambessa, your heart pounding so loud..

“Bess…” you began. Ambessa raised an eyebrow, waiting. “B-before we go in, I need to say this. No matter what happens—no matter what my parents say—I’m still with you. Nothing will change, okay? We’ll stand together, even if they’re started to go against us.”

Ambessa’s lips curled into a smirk, but her eyes softened. “Of course, dear,” she said with that same effortless confidence, like there was never a doubt in her mind. Like nothing could shake her.

Was she even nervous? She was about to meet your parents for the first time, and yet she looked so calm, so in control while here you are looking like a frightened wet penguin. Wasn’t meeting the parents supposed to be the most terrifying part of a relationship? Even more nerve-wracking than getting married?

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you reached out to adjust her suit. Your fingers brushed against the lapels, but you didn’t realize they were trembling until Ambessa's hand gently closed over yours.

You already imagine all the worst-case scenarios before the night would end, and none of them sat well with you. You could possibly lose Ambessa. Or your family. Or worst, both. Just the thought of it made your chest tighten painfully. You didn't want to choose between the people you love.

The mere possibility of it was unbearable. You don't know if you can take it.

Ambessa's touch was grounding, steady, like everything you needed in that moment. Ambessa gently cupped your chin, guiding your face toward hers.

“Little one… look at me.”

You met her gaze, and the calm, steady confidence in her eyes was enough to slow your racing heart.

"Calm down... Everything’s going to be alright. We will be alright." Her voice was soft yet steady "Don’t be nervous��I’m right here, okay?"

You nodded, swallowing hard, and she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Before you could chicken out, you took a last deep breath before you swung the door open. Your heart thudded violently in your chest as you both stepped back inside, and it felt like the entire world paused.

Every conversation stopped mid-sentence.

Every fork froze halfway to someone’s mouth.

Your uncles, who had been lounging on the sofa watching football, paused mid-game, their attention snapping at your direction. Your aunties, mid-gossip, fell silent, their eyes narrowing at the front door. Even the children, who’d been running around shrieking with laughter, slowed to a halt, retreating to their parents like they were afraid on something.

Every pair of eyes—at least thirty family members crammed into the living room and dining area—snapped right to you and your unexpected guest. A shiver ran from your toes all the way up your spine, your heart pounding in panic.

You were just introducing your partner to the family, like your cousin did, but they never gave that kind of attention—the way they’re staring at you and Ambessa now.

It was like time had hit the brakes.

And how could they not?

When the woman beside you was an attention grabber, what more Ambessa was intimidating. She stood taller than the average man, her broad, powerful frame impossible to ignore. Every movement she made was deliberate, exuding a quiet authority that demanded respect and commanded attention the moment she entered a room.

Even board directors didn’t dare challenge her—no one did. Her employees were even terrified of looking onto her eyes or crossing path with her.

You blinked multiple times, trying to steady yourself, before glancing at Ambessa. Not a single hint of nervousness crossed her face. She stood tall and composed, completely unbothered by the dozens of eyes glued to the both of you. You could practically hear the collective whisper ripple through the room.

It wasn’t nice being gawked at, especially by this many people, especially when their eyes keep on shifting from you and Ambessa.

Ambessa was dressed in that perfectly tailored red and black suit—one that probably cost more than your car—she stood out in the best way possible. It was just a casual family gathering, and yet, there she was, looking like she’d stepped off the cover of a high-profile magazine.

And then, through the stunned silence, you spotted her.

Your mother. Eyebrows shot up so fast you thought they might hit her hairline.

You could feel your pulse in your ears. This was it. No turning back now.

Your mother’s brows knit together, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the sight of you and Ambessa standing side by side. She didn’t miss the closeness between you— and the way your hands brushed together.

Like she knew.

Like she had already put the pieces together but was desperately hoping she was wrong. But then, with a practiced calm, she clapped her hands together and forced a smile.

“Alright, everyone,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Let’s not hover. Go on, continue enjoying your food.”

Slowly, like someone had hit play on a paused movie, people started moving again. Conversations resumed, but not without the occasional glance thrown our way. You could feel them peeking, eavesdropping, pretending they weren’t doing exactly that.

And then your parents moved in.

You drag Ambessa as you led toward the dining room. Your mother stood by the table, stirring the salad with slow, deliberate movements. She didn’t look up right away. Your father appeared behind her, his expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked from you to Ambessa—and then back again

Meanwhile, your mother’s gaze turned laser-focused as you both stopped in front of her. Her eyes immediately darted down to yours and Ambessa's intertwined fingers.

Which made your palm run ice cold. Ambessa must’ve felt it too because she tightened her grip slightly, giving you support as her warmth seeping into your skin.

You glanced around the room, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow you whole. Why was everyone staring at you like you were the evening’s drama? You could practically feel the tension crackling in the air.

Your mom’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And who,” she began, her voice deceptively polite, “might this guest be?”

Before you could say anything, Ambessa took a step forward.

“Ambessa Medarda,” she said, offering her hand with the kind of poised confidence that could melt glaciers—or in this case, try to thaw your mother’s frosty demeanor. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet Y/N's parents.”

Your mom stared at her hand like it might bite, but she eventually took it—barely—but then turned to you, her eyes pointing dagger demanding an explanation. Your Dad, still buffering, finally shook himself out of his daze and gave Ambessa a quick handshake.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. "Ambessa, this is my mom and dad. Mom, Dad… this is Ambessa."

...

"She’s… my girlfriend," you added, your voice softer but clear.

For a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped.

You could feel the shock ripple through the room. Eyes widened. A few audible gasps echoed in the sudden silence, and you swore even the ticking clock on the wall seemed louder than before.

You understood their reactions perfectly. Your whole life, they had known you as a straight woman—never once had you hinted otherwise. You were so good at hiding it. And now, here you were, standing before them, introducing your first-ever lover… who just so happened to be a woman.

It wasn’t just introducing Ambessa; it was, in a way, coming out. Tearing down the version of you they thought they knew and revealing something they’d never expected. You could see it in their eyes—the shock, the disbelief, the scrambling to process what this meant. And being the only gay person in the family? It was a whole new revelation for everyone.

And as much as you tried to steel yourself for this moment, you couldn’t help the nervous knot twisting in your stomach..

Your mom’s eyes widened,

''G-girlfriend?” she repeated, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard you right. The word hanging in the air like an accusation.

She immediatly stopped on what she was doing. Then, with a disbelieving shake of her head, she let out a sharp little laugh. “Since when did you have a lover? And her? really… a woman? Y/N”

You felt like you were going to be sick. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to nod. “Yes.”

Her lips twitched—not a smile, more like an involuntary reaction she couldn’t quite control. “Are you being serious? Right now?”

Before you could answer, Ambessa’s voice cut in.

“Yes,” she said firmly, her gaze locking onto your mother’s “We’re serious.”

From the look on Ambessa's face, she was clearly quite upset by your mother’s tone.

Your mother was just about to start arguing when your father gently pulled her aside, murmuring something to calm her down. Surprisingly, she let him, though the tension in her face made it clear she was far from pleased.

“Now, now… save the conversation for later,” your father said smoothly, shooting you a look before turning back to Ambessa. “A-ambessa right? Have you had dinner yet? I bet you haven’t. Why don’t you grab a plate and help yourself?”

Relief flooded you, and you shot your father a grateful look. He only smiled, giving you a quick wink.

You were about to guide Ambessa toward the food when you noticed she hadn’t moved. Furrowing your brows, you turned to her. “Bess…?”

Before she could answer, you caught movement from the corner of your eye—Ricktus, her ever-loyal guard, stepping inside, both hands occupied with something.large.

“Before that,” Ambessa spoke, “I’d like to give something first.” She gestured toward the items in Ricktus’ hands. “I brought some gift baskets. It’s not much, but I didn’t realize Y/N had quite a big family.”

All eyes turned toward the baskets, and you could practically hear the collective shift in the room. These weren’t ordinary gift baskets—they were luxurious, the kind only the wealthy could afford. Even from a distance, you could see the careful arrangement of imported wines, artisanal chocolates, and items that looked far too expensive for anyone to afford.

Your father let out a nervous chuckle, offering a polite tone “Ah—thank you, you didn't need to but that’s very kind.” He reached out to take one, but Ricktus didn’t let go. Instead, the guard gave a small, respectful nod.

“Forgive him but they’re quite heavy,” Ambessa said evenly, her tone smooth yet firm. “Let my men carry them—just tell us where you’d like them placed.”

....

The meal was tense. You could barely swallow the food in front of you, your stomach knotted with nerves. Other than Ambessa, the martini in your hand was the only thing giving you strength. Your mom was definitely more upset than you had imagined. She had been demanding for years that you finally introduce someone—and here you were, doing exactly that. But clearly, this wasn’t what she had expected. What a way to suprise everyone..

It had been hour, and the crowd had thinned as the night stretched on. A few of the younger kids had finally tired themselves out, curled up in corners or carried off to bed by their parents. The once lively energy had settled into something quieter, more subdued.

Some of your aunts had struck up light conversation with Ambessa—mostly out of curiosity, you suspected—but you could tell they were still hesitant. And then there was your mother.

She hadn’t said a word to you.

Not since then. Not since everything.

She wasn’t throwing a fit or making a scene, but that almost made it worse. The way she moved around the room, politely engaging with everyone except you—it was deliberate. A silent cold shoulder. Like you hadn’t just been laughing together at your uncle’s joke moments ago.

And damn, it hurt.

Meanwhile, Ambessa? the unbothered queen, savoring every bite like she was at a five-star banquet instead of sitting in the middle of this emotional minefield.

She was even enjoying your mother’s homemade mac and cheese, which was shocking considering how picky of an eater she was. Even a world-renowned chefs had to bent over backward trying to impress her, and yet here she was, casually indulging in a simple family recipe.

You sat beside her leaned in slightly, your elbow resting on the table, your head propped up by your hand as you watched her. Seeing her eat—actually eat, rather than picking at her food like she usually did—made you happy. It was such a simple thing, but it meant something.

Your voice was low, “I like what you did to your hair.”

Ambessa's usual free-flowing curls were now braided back into a triple dutch braid, weaving tightly along her scalp in thick sections into the center one. A few white strands near the front contrasted against the dark, adding a striking edge to her already commanding presence. She looked good. No—she looked ridiculously good.

Ambessa paused mid-bite, glancing at you. “Ah, yes, little one… You did say you liked it this way.” She smirked, setting her fork down. “So, I had it styled before I got here.”

Your lips parted slightly. “You did it… for me?”

She hummed, taking another bite, as if it was no big deal.

Your heart stuttered, and heat crept up your cheeks. “Well, I do like it,” you admitted, staring at her shamelessly. “I can see your face clearly. You look so—”

Ambessa cut you off, her gaze sharp and knowing. “I see what you’re doing, little one.” Her voice dipped lower, teasing but firm. “But don’t flirt with me right now. You might not like what I do to you in front of your family.”

You choked on your drink. Your cheeks burned as you quickly averted your gaze.

What is wrong with this woman?!

Ambessa just chuckled, sipping her wine like she hadn’t just sent your brain into a tailspin.

You were lost in your little moment, completely wrapped up in Ambessa’s teasing, when someone cleared their throat. You both turned, and it was none other than the devil itself—your mother.

Your stomach dropped. Shit.

How could you forget she was sitting just two seats away? You had been so caught up in Ambessa’s presence that you completely overlooked the fact that your mother had full view of your shameless flirting. You could only hope she didn't hear any of it.

Wine glass in hand. Then your mother began to approached and took a seat—this time, directly in front of you. The shift was small, but it was enough to make the entire table fall quiet.

A few of your family had noticed it too.

Your mom wasn’t done. You could feel it. Maybe she was just waiting for the crowd to subside, which, in a way, was a relief—at least you wouldn’t have to endure her torture in front of an audience.

Your mother, set down her drink with an audible clink and looked directly at Ambessa “So,” she began, “Ambessa… what do you do?”

You winced internally. Here we go

______

Taglist:) @jhyoos @dakotapaigelove @daenerysluvrr @marve1stranger @angrywhisperslove @ghostie1131 @natsaffection @vyvvycg @euphoricnyctophilia @cloudstoday @imconfusrd @chezze-its

[panlight]

One thing that I STILL can’t understand is why do the Cullen kids still go to school?

They know everything and if somebody asks they just can say that they’re homeschooled or something.

I’d be fed up with school over the time.

This is another one of those "author choices." By that I mean this is something the author wanted (for the Cullen kids to be in high school), but from the POV of the characters, it really makes no sense.

(I also think the name "Renesmee" is an author choice. I will never believe that it feels in-character for Bella to have come up with. Edward Jacob/Edward Junior, on the other hand, is VERY Bella IMO. Also moving to Forks at all is an author choice. Even for purely selfish reasons of secrecy and safety, it makes no sense for the Cullens to move back to the ONE AREA where there are people who know what they are. Absolute clown shoes. But Author Choice because story needed to happen).

Author choices aren't necessarily bad. When you're writing a story you have to make choices. Part of the job. Where you run into trouble is when it seems to go against what the characters would choose themselves.

SM had this dream about a beautiful vampire boy and a 'normal' human girl in a meadow and then she had to work backwards about how they met. And she picked 'high school' and then she had to justify it with the pretty clunky 'helps us blend in' stuff when it's clear that they make absolutely zero effort to actually blend in and are getting nothing fulfilling out of this experience. They could say they are homeschooled. They could just chill at the house and not be in public at all. They could say they are in and/or actually go to college, which at least offers the chance to tailor your experience more: American high school over and over again is going to cover most of the same stuff. In college you can pick different majors, different electives. More variety, more choice. But Edward has to be in high school to meet Bella in bio class. Author choice.

It feels like "I want them in high school" and then tried to force it, which is very different from saying, "okay I have this group of vampires with physical ages ranging from 17 to 26, how do I think they would live?" and looking at it from the characters' POV, from which high school is just obviously the worst, most nonsensical option.

I think the other part is the Bella-centricity of it all. They have to be in school because Bella is in school. Would not be surprised at all if SM decides that going forward they don't repeat high school anymore because now Edward and Bella are Adults and Married so it would be weird; but oh hey, aren't Rosalie/Emmett and Alice/Jasper also married adults and they still had to do it? Sure but they aren't the main character.

[llamabois]

TO LOVE AND HATE, ENDLESSLY

Synopsis: You and your twin sister (MC) have been spending time with your parents. They decide it would be fun for you guys to play dress up and guess who is who. Caleb ends up joining in to your dismay.

No warnings are needed other than a bit of swearing, lol.

Side note: tried to use some pilot terms, but I might've failed lmao.

Taglist: @justpassingdontworry @macaronnya @itsmekalou @caramelizedpopcirn @xiaorixx

You are your own worst enemy. Not that you'd ever have expected that. It's been two weeks since your mirror reflection has come back into your family's life, and while you're happy for your parents, a part of you wishes you ate her in the womb.

Her eyes crinkle in the same way yours does, a smile a little lopsided. When she gets nervous, she plays with her fingers as if doing so will make a spell to banish away her fear. Just like you.

The first fear you've ever faced was your own reflection, so now you've learned to put two fists up to face your inner demons. You try bonding with her. Asking her about her childhood.

She tells you about how she grew up with her amazing childhood friend Caleb. Told you how he was almost like a brother to her. Almost, but not quite. Her eyes stir with a muted desire that matches your own when you look into his beautiful purple irises. She doesn't acknowledge this. Neither do you.

Shadowboxing is not an art you are unfamiliar with. For you were your first enemy. And you will be your last. Until you break bread with the parts of you that your heart has never understood; You will break bones and wreak havoc on your own psyched up psyche till nothing but the two of you are left breathless yet still attached.

Yet you still choose not to face him. Not until you're forced to.

Your parents have decided to take some time to do all the things they've always wanted to do with both of you but never could. And this time, you two were playing dress up.

Due to the fact that your hair was long (even though you've been thinking of cutting it recently,) you both sported the same bun with a pretty extravagant dress. How your parents got them, you'll never know.

"My goodness, you two are identical!"

Your sister laughs at this comment and turns towards you. "I've always felt like there was a part of me missing. At least I know it wasn't because my heart went dumb."

You want to feel warmth in your chest. You want to feel sorry for your dear twin who suffers from a heart condition after you lost her. You want to love her. Yet your fists are still up, and your heart is hidden on your sleeve.

And to think you're feeling this way all because of a damn man.

There's a ring at the doorbell, the two of you had changed again to match into some more casual clothes. Your mom excitedly goes to open the door. You pay no mind as you look at your sister and smooth out her hair that looked a little frazzled.

She looks at you intently, shocked by the sheer awe of looking at yourself outside of your body yet still within yourself.

She knows you're not all too happy to see her. And she has a feeling she knows why.

"Girls," your mom calls excitedly. "Guess who's here!"

You both look to the entrance of the living room, and your stomach does flip when you see who is standing there. His frame large against the small door. His eyes, some what in awe.

Not for you, of course, never for you.

"Caleb, dear, would you like to play a little game with us?" Your mom asks with a clap of excitement.

"Guess who is who between the two of them."

"We've got 3 out of the 6 times, right? Not bad, huh?" Your dad chimes in, proud.

As if not being able to tell which daughter you've held in your arms and taken care of the past 23 years of your life is something to be proud of. You digress.

You were identical.

"Sure," Caleb says as he takes a seat on the couch. Casually, he leans into the crook of the chair away from your parents. Manspreading like he owned half of the chair with just his presence. Purple eyes watched you both intently as you both switched positions a few times.

You tried to keep your expression neutral. But you knew that Caleb would probably be able to tell right away who his beloved Pipsqueak was and who was just a Bandit.

You both continue to circle each other. As you look at her, you look at yourself. A yin yang behavior. To circle each other endlessly till parts of you bled into who you've hated to be. To both be exactly alike, yet nothing at all the same.

To be yourself is to love and hate endlessly.

"And stop." Your dad says, clapping once.

You both look toward Caleb, who gazes intently at you. His eyes are heavy on your body. You want to look away, but everything within you wants to fight for a stupid victory. So you don't.

"This is pipsqueak, and this is my angel." He says, pointing at your sister and then you.

"Angel?" You question. "How did you come to this conclusion, Colonel."

"Well first," he smiles. "Pipsqueak doesn't call me Colonel. So you just proved my point, my dear mechanic."

Dammit.

"Okay, what else."

Caleb gets up from his spot on the couch and makes his way towards you, as if she wasn't there. As if no one else was around.

"Well...my dear angel often as a really defiant gaze when she looks at people. Especially me. Sometimes it borders on hatred I think." He smiles. "Unless it was something else." He whispers.

You look away.

You choose to run from his words rather than listen to them. How could he know that you wanted to jump into his skin, and carve a piece of yourself into him permanently? That you wanted the weight of his body on top of yours. The warmth of his chest, the desire in his eyes, the whirling of the mechanical arm that was never going to be a part of him yet still held a part of you every time that you tinkered with it in your workshop.

How you wanted the sound of that robotic arm to lullaby you to sleep as he wrapped himself around you brought his real arm to your stomach and caressed it gently.

He truly knew nothing.

Son of a bitch.

"True," you chuckle with a dark gaze. "But it doesn't border on hatred. It is."

"Oh, you know that isn't true."

"What i know is that there are somethings you don't come back from, and if you don't step out of my fucking face, I'll make sure that you face a death you don't came back from." You fake a gasp, "Oh damn, I should say, again. Shouldn't I."

Your sister watches your back and forth. At first, with amusement, but then also a sense of wrongness.

Like she wasn't supposed to be here.

She could tell there was something between you two. Something that was more than hate. It was desire. A language is so often hidden between the lines but felt so easily.

She had no place between that. After all, she was just Caleb's childhood friend, right?

Maybe she did feel something for him, a sense of belonging like no other. To have someone take care of you and treat you as a precious jewel when the world was determined to crush you. Caleb did that. He treated her as if she were a jewel. A diamond.

She shakes her head. She would be fine without him. Afterall, when this bastard blew the fuck up, she had to do everything on her own. And she'll continue to do so.

Or at least... she has her family still there with her.

"Oh angel, you wound me deeply." Caleb jokes sarcastically. But you're not having any of it.

"Would you like another fatal wound? I think we can make that happen."

At this point, your mom and dad left, and your sister also took her leave. Something about going to go change.

Caleb chuckles as he deepens the space between you two. His warm hand caressing your face. You want to throw something at him. Whether it's a chair or yourself, you can't decide.

"How did you know it was me." You asked again.

He comes closer, enough to feel his breath hot on your face. Enough for your eyes to linger at his lips a bit too long to be just friendly.

"Because," he whispered. "I'd know your little eyebrow quirk anywhere."

His hand traced your leg.

"The way you favor your right leg over your left when you stand, because of a classroom mishap you had when you were still studying at the DAA."

"The way you quirk your head to the left when you've been waiting for too long." His hand traced the nape of your neck. Then, he cupped your face and tilted your head towards him.

"The way your lips quiver with unspoken words. Your eyes, hungry."

How could he not know. It was the same look he gave you.

Not because you looked like her.

But because you were just you. Beautiful, utterly brilliant, bright-eyed, and amazing you.

He presses his lips to yours. The dryness of them, ticklish against your moist ones. His hands in your hair, as he breathes you in like you're the last bit oxygen he has left in deepspace.

You throw your arms around him. Your body flush against his, this moment, a dream. An endless yearning fulfilled like you've finally caught the sun after riding into the sunset.

Was this desire? Was it love? You don't know.

But you wanted to explore what it felt like to be loved.

Like a word lost in translation.

"Ay! I know yall are lovey dovey but no pda in my living room!" Your dad calls from the other room.

"Sorry, dad!"

He didn't want you to be her. He wanted you to be yourself.

And to be yourself is to love and hate endlessly.

[empressdede]

The Secretary - 4

Chapter Four

Previous

Serena sat on the edge of her hotel bed, gripping her phone like it was a lifeline. She needed a distraction—something, anything, to pull her mind away from Roman Reigns and the way he had looked at her like he wasn’t going to let this go.

So, she did what she always did when she needed grounding.

She called her mom.

After a few rings, the familiar, warm voice filled her ear. “Hey, baby girl! This is a surprise.”

Serena smiled faintly, sinking back into the pillows. “Hey, Mom. Just thought I’d check in.”

Her mom chuckled. “Oh, so you do remember you have a family? I was starting to think WWE kidnapped you.”

Serena laughed, shaking her head. “It feels like it sometimes.”

“Well, I’m glad you called.” There was a pause, then the inevitable question. “So… how’s everything with the new job?”

Serena opened her mouth to answer automatically, but the words didn’t come out.

How was she supposed to answer that?

On paper, it was incredible. She worked for one of the most powerful men in the company, managing his every move with efficiency and precision. She was respected, trusted.

But behind closed doors?

She was standing on a line so thin it could break at any moment.

“Serena?” her mom prompted.

Serena hesitated before forcing out, “It’s… good.”

A pause.

Her mother wasn’t an idiot.

“Uh-huh,” she said, suspiciously. “That didn’t sound convincing.”

Serena sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

Serena chewed on her bottom lip, debating how much to say. She couldn’t tell her mom she almost kissed her boss—twice. That she had to remind herself every day why she couldn’t give in to something that felt inevitable.

Instead, she went with, “It’s a lot of pressure.”

Her mom hummed knowingly. “That I believe. But is it just the pressure?”

Serena froze. Her mom knew. She always did.

“…Mom.”

“Sweetheart,” her mom said gently, “I’ve known you your whole life. I can hear it in your voice. Something’s on your mind. And if you’re calling me for a distraction, that means it’s something big.”

Serena closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. Of course, she couldn’t fool her mother.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted softly.

Her mother’s voice was calm, steady. “Then start by asking yourself this—what do you want?”

Serena’s stomach twisted.

That was the problem. Because deep down, she already knew the answer.

And she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to fight it anymore.

Serena gripped the phone tighter, her throat tightening as she stared up at the ceiling.

“I—I think I made a mistake.”

Her voice cracked, and she hated it. She hated the way her chest ached, the way her emotions threatened to spill over.

Her mother’s tone immediately softened. “Oh, sweetheart… talk to me. What happened?”

Serena squeezed her eyes shut, her free hand pressing against her forehead as if that would somehow keep her from falling apart completely. “I like him, Mom,” she whispered, barely able to admit it to herself, let alone out loud. “And it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

The words felt heavy, like she had been carrying them for too long.

Her mother was quiet for a moment, letting her breathe through it before speaking. “You’re talking about your boss, aren’t you?”

Serena let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“And when you say you like him…?”

Serena swallowed hard. “I mean—I really like him. More than I should. More than I ever meant to.”

As soon as she said it, the emotions she had been bottling up hit her all at once.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and before she could stop herself, she was crying—really crying—the kind of silent, exhausted tears that came when you finally admitted the truth you’d been running from.

Her mother’s voice stayed steady. “Oh, baby… it’s okay.”

Serena shook her head, even though her mom couldn’t see it. “No, it’s not okay. He’s my boss. I worked so hard for this job, and now—I don’t even know if I can do it without feeling like I’m walking on eggshells. And the worst part?” Her voice broke, and she covered her mouth, trying to hold back a sob. “I don’t even want to stop liking him.”

There. That was the real truth.

It wasn’t just about professionalism or boundaries or rules.

It was about the fact that, despite all of that… she didn’t want to push Roman away.

Her mother let her cry for a moment before gently speaking again. “Sweetheart… you can’t help how you feel. And from the way you’re talking, I don’t think this is just some silly crush.”

Serena let out a breath, wiping at her eyes. “It’s not. That’s the problem.”

Her mom was quiet for a second. “And what about him? Does he feel the same?”

Serena let out a weak laugh, still sniffing. “Oh yeah. That’s not even a question.”

Her mother chuckled softly. “Well, that’s something, at least.”

Serena groaned, running a hand through her hair. “Mom, this isn’t like some normal guy I can just date. He’s Roman freaking Reigns. He has the entire company on his shoulders. His whole life is controlled, and I—I don’t want to be just another complication for him.”

Her mother sighed. “Or are you scared of being something more to him?”

Serena’s breath caught.

She hadn’t even considered that.

Her mother continued, her voice wise and knowing. “Look, honey. I can’t tell you what to do. But I can tell you that running from how you feel isn’t going to make it go away. And if he feels the same, maybe this isn’t the mistake you think it is.”

Serena wiped at her face again, her emotions still raw, but her mom’s words settled into her chest, deep and undeniable.

Because maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t a mistake at all.

•

Next

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You think we getting close yall? 👀 Thank you Guys for reading so far🥺🫶🏾

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[rene-of-the-blackouts]

Hey-hey-hey! I know you have been wondering, waiting, looking forward to...

Our Let's transmute something together event news!

The time has come to find out who our gorgeous alchemists' duos or teams are!

Lo and behold, the matches are now public (as well as some fun teasers😏):

@neda-epik & @ajthepeach

@anthropwashere & @silosbears

@klainelynch & @hawkeyes-darling

"Never Acting At All"

@detroyteck & @kimbleefucker

@graphx & @the-catmans-offical-2

@aquafrost & @littlebear1537

by Jordana

@paintbrushfrog & @saphkick

@codyis-not-cool & @gooseberryfox

@lycaran & @j0rdync & @jackelopeshop

"Envy is Self Destruction"

by Lyca

@cilasbestos & @scarymonsters-andsupercreeps & @temsiik

@deaddovehasbeeneaten & @bees-and-spice

@momomorriko & @swaggeringsinusoid & @zeaofgreed

Time and time again, Bido had wondered how he’d die. He wasn’t naïve, he had never believed he’d live an exceptionally long life and die peacefully in his sleep. He had tried to avoid danger, had been careful enough to not get involved in any fights, always snuck away before anything could turn violent. When these people had taken him, he had been sure that this would be it. And then, when they hadn’t killed him, part of him had wished they had. That time had been worse than death. And yet… He hadn’t wanted to die. Even now, he still wanted to live. But he wasn’t fast enough, he wasn’t strong enough. And he was alone. This was it then. Just so soon after regaining his freedom. Closing his eyes, he waited for the shot to happen. It never came. Instead, there was the sound of bones breaking, followed by a scream and the thud of something metallic hitting the ground. “Y’know, I don’t appreciate others damaging what’s mine.”

by Lina

@writerofallthingsfandom & @pennbzh

@peapodsinspace & @shuboxx

@dont-open-dead-inside-net & unrevealed:)

Professor Elric was a legend. A terrifying legend. Rumours about him ranged from mildly surprising to utterly preposterous, yet they all agreed on one thing: Edward Elric was undefeated, unafraid of anything and anyone.

That was before he encounters his worst enemy. Milk.

"Professor Elric vs. Milk"

Carter & @fandommenagerie

@d1ssolv3dt0by & unrevealed :)

@lynyangell & @awesomedurraworld

‘Take care of my daughter, Roy.’ The array on her back. She’s alone and destitute. And Sensei intended for me to have his notes…He thought I’d marry her. He meant for me to marry her. Is that what she’s expecting?

He’s sitting way too close to her. He can smell the earthy, piney scent of her shampoo, and it’s damn appealing. She’s eighteen. He could… But that’s crazy. What sort of life would that set them up for? A marriage of convenience and obligation? A marriage without love for the sake of alchemy? He wants flame alchemy. Badly. It will change the entire course of his life if he gets his hands on it. He’d endure a loveless marriage if that’s what it took. But the idea of sentencing her to such a fate makes him feel vaguely sick. That’s exactly the opposite of protecting her. Then again, what other options does she have with the array on her back? If he doesn’t marry her…. “Do you want to get married?” he blurts before he can think the words through. He draws away from her, feeling a flush rise on his cheeks. She stares back at him, seemingly stunned as she takes in a quick breath of air. “I mean…only if you do,” she says quietly. Roy blinks. The flush creeps up his collar, and he swallows hard. “I’m sure it’s what my father intended,” Riza murmurs. “But I wasn’t going to approach the subject unless you did.”

"I'll Keep You Safe"

✨️

Stay tuned for the full works, the majority of which will be posted on February 20✨️