#but that's like his way of telling her to go back to her own world asap because he knows if the Court catches wind of her existence

[cuinaminute229]

With death comes life part 2

pairing: Agatha x Rio x reader

a/n: this is sprinkled with angst and fluff

part 1

...

The surrounding trees are all twisted and dead, with heavy vines hanging from branches too high to reach. What you see is a barrier. A makeshift fence that keeps the witches to the road.

The air carries a subtle fog that lingers just out of reach, shrouding the forest of the road into the unknown. Even the leaves that make up the path are all dead. Only magic keeps them vibrant with false life.

You almost feel insulted. 

Nothing here can sustain life. It never will.

The road is an abomination. It shouldn’t exist.

And yet here you are.

When you look up at the sky, a feeling of loss settles in your chest. The sky is not real; the moon is a false imitation, and the stars are all wrong. 

You will never not hate this place. 

The soft whispers of a conversation tug at your attention when you notice the witches at your back are talking about you. With a subtle shift, you slow your steps and listen in. 

They speak so carelessly about your reaction to seeing Agatha, about the anger they saw. About how they could use your emotions to drive a wedge where, unbeknown to them, there is a canyon. 

In the simplest of terms, they want to manipulate you to their advantage because they do not trust Agatha. 

Because you do not trust Agatha. It’s insulting in the most human way possible.

Where on earth did she find these people? Why did she find them?

There’s something you're missing, you just know it.

The moment you hear Rio's name is the moment you turn around, you do not care what they are going to say. Their little conversation ends now. The shift in your momentum is fluid as you turn around mid step, eyes narrow in suspicion. 

You keep your face blank when they all jump in union. The very obvious change of demeanor tells you they did not know you were listening in on them.

You let the silence linger as your eyes scan over the small group. They cling to each other for comfort, but it only takes a moment for you to recognize that their bonds as a coven are new. They are still easy to bend, easy to break.

“You know,” Your voice is gentle, giving nothing of what you feel away for them to see. “To betray one's cover on the road,” 

You spread your hand out to emphasize exactly where you all are. “To break the rules only punishes all.”

“She is the one that tried to cheat!” The pink dressed witch points out like you need to be taught, like she needs to tell you who Agatha Harkness is.

As if you don't know exactly who she is. It's almost laughable how much this witch thinks she knows more than you.

“And now one of you is dead. How tragic.” This is not the first and will not be the last time a witch loses their life on the road. Do they not understand that?

“But that death is not her fault.” This time your voice is cold, stern. It feels like you're scolding children. “You failed as a coven. So do not blame your misgivings as a group on her.”

When only silence becomes their response, you decide to turn back around and continue down the path. The next trial awaits, and you want to get this over with as soon as possible. 

But a voice makes you pause. 

“Why do you hate her?” The unexpected question knocks the air out of your lungs and the world seems to stop. As if everything dead and alive waits for your answer. 

Memories rush forward with such force you wouldn't be surprised if you can never breathe again.

The sight of a never ending forest, a small cottage tucked away from hunters and strangers alike. The laughter of a young boy with Agatha's hair and Rio's smile, a bright yellow flower in his hands.

The years before tragedy felt like a lifetime. 

You were happy. You were loved. 

You want to cry. 

With a small hitch in your breath, you close your eyes and push down the tidal wave of emotions. If you become overwhelmed, the road’s magic will latch onto you like a leech. You can't risk it.

“My reasons are my own. Focus on surviving the road.” Your words are final, empty of the emotions that are battling beneath your heart. You know you can never pick up the pieces of yourself that are broken. 

But for now, you can ignore them.

You will not let them see you like this. Never again will Agatha see this side of you.

When you finally catch up with Rio, you take notice of the house in the distance, the windows lit in a deep orange sunset light. The fog of your surroundings only adds to the ominous look of it.

That must be the next trial.

What catches your attention next isn't Agatha arguing with the boy. It's not the group of three walking over to settle whatever disagreement there is. No, it's the fact that Rio is leaning against a tree, feigning boredom. Her knife in hand, twisting it in her grip as if she's studying the blade.

The leaf in her hair is bright in color, almost like fire, and it stands out against the rich brown of her hair. As if she can sense eyes on her, Rio glances up. Her eyes find you in an instant and you give her a small smile.

She waits as you walk over to her and it's only once you stop in front of her, your back to the others, does she return your smile. She tucks her knife away and holds out her hand, a small flower blooming in her palm. “For you.” 

Your smile turns bittersweet as you reach for the flower, the baby blue petals remind you of a clear afternoon sky. As your fingers touch the stem, it flourishes. Reacting to the caress of your magic that trickles from your fingers. You hold the flower for a moment before tucking it beneath your coat. 

As you look back to Rio she pushes forwards, off the dead tree that she knows you won't touch. When she steps into your space, it feels like you’ve broken the water's surface and can finally breathe again.

“You look filthy.” You tease her before she can notice if anything’s wrong. The dirt that covers her skin and her clothes gives her a rough look, and yet her makeup is as pristine as ever. Her hair looks like she’s just rolled out of bed. There are twigs and leaves and who knows what else hidden in the mess of her hair. 

“Says the one who also had to crawl out of a grave.” Rio responds, leaning just a bit closer when you reach out to brush your fingers through her hair. Her hand settles on your waist with ease, her thumb brushing back and forth in a soothing motion.

“Which I'm assuming is your fault.” You voice your suspicion as you tug on the largest of the leaves you can see in her hair. 

To summon a green witch, let alone any witch to the road, is almost impossible. You don't even know why they tried it in the first place. 

Rio says nothing for a moment. She just lets you thread your fingers through her hair, pulling at the twigs and leaves you find. She licks her lips when you brush your thumb behind her ear, letting out a soft sigh as she closes her eyes.

An annoyed huff and angry footsteps causes you to pull back from her, suddenly self conscious. But Rio's hand catches your wrist before you can step out of her personal space. When she blinks open her eyes to look at you, her brow furrowed slightly. You can't help but give her a reassuring smile. 

Agatha is storming off again. Because of course she is. She will not wait for the two of you.

“Tell me later?” You know this conversation isn't close to over, but right now, time is essential. Rio gives you a small nod and only then do you step away from her.

Finding Agatha is easy. She's at the next trial, waiting for the two of you. The door is decorated with stained glass, the phases of the moon surround the centerpiece, which is the waxing moon. It's almost beautiful if you didn't know that danger lies just behind it.

You feel Rio just behind you, watching the group intently. The graze of her fingers on your back is a welcoming sensation when you realize who’s trial this is.

The protection witch.

With a quick scan, you find her easily, the witch with the red streaks in her hair. She looks the most nervous, hands shoved into her pockets, shoulders hunched.

The teenager is the one to usher her inside, voice reassuring. He calls her Alice and holds his hand out for her and once she takes it; he walks through the door beside her. The other two follow close behind, nerves elevated for what is to come.

When there is only you, Agatha, and Rio left at the door, the tension seems to skyrocket. 

You clench your jaw when she looks at you as if she expects you to go first, but you don't move. The door stays open and no one moves.

When Agatha’s patient wanes, she jerks her head to the door, her voice callous, and yet she can’t look at you when she speaks. “After you.”

It’s only when Rio pushes her knuckles against your lower back do you finally give in. The very moment you walk through the door, you’re blinded by a light as bright as a newborn star. It’s honestly a weak imitation, but that doesn’t mean it can disorient you any less.

As the world around you slowly comes into focus, you notice two things right away. 

One, the air is pungent with magic. It’s so bad you swear you can taste it. Two, when you turn to look at the others, you notice everyone is dressed in seventies fashion attire. 

Glancing down, you see that you too, have also changed outfits. You brush your fingers over the gold embroidered that stands out against the white design of your clothes. Small beads and complex stitches run in calm waves up your sleeves. As you turn your arm to follow the designs, you notice your nails are also painted white. 

“Don’t drink anything. Don’t eat anything. Don’t touch anything.” Alice tells everyone as she glances around the room with a distrust that runs deep. 

“Sounds like there’s a story there.” Rio says as she looks at Alice, brows raised in intrigue. When she catches your gaze, she’s not subtle as she looks you over. She’s adorned in black and gold. The low cut of her blouse catches your attention and you may stare a little too long. Her smile is predatory when she notices you looking. 

“The road isn’t subtle.” Alice mutters, her disdain clear.

You glance around at her words, curious about the history that this trial will bring up.

The room looks like a music lounge studio. Instruments and microphones are set out like they are just waiting to be played. The floor is covered with different rugs; the lights have a certain aesthetic and even the walls are mismatched stones with different things decorating them. 

Your eyes land on the grand piano when everyone gathers around a wall mirror that one of the witches has found, getting a clearer look at the clothes that now fit the aesthetic of this trial. You leave them to their curiosity and walk to the center of the room, a metronome catching your attention from where it sits atop the piano. 

You don’t notice her at first, brow furrowed as you brush your fingers over the edge of the piano lid. You hum a soft lullaby as your fingers tap to the rhythm in your head.

When you see her fingers graze over the piano, you freeze. When she finishes your melody, her beige nails tapping lightly against the polished black case of the piano, you step away.

You look at Agatha like she’s a ghost. 

She’s not—she wasn't—you never told her. Rio doesn’t even know.

It was only for Nicky. It was his song.  

“What are you doing?” You back up when she finally looks up at you. She can’t hide it when her eyes glance over your attire. You know her too well. The way her eyes linger just a little too long, the way she clears her throat before jerking her head back to the piano. She takes a deep breath, rolls her shoulders like she’s buying time.

She looks like she wants to say something but stops short. When she reaches for her brooch, finger tapping lightly as if she needs a physical reminder it’s still there, you understand. 

He told her. Of course he did.

Whatever Agatha is trying to accomplish by reminding you of a life you can never get back, you need her to stop.

You can't do this. The emotional whiplash is getting exhausting.

“Why are you here?” She tilts her head to look at you, her expression clouded with suspicion.

“Why are you?” You deflect her easily, asking your own question. To walk the road once and survive is akin to a miracle. Why would she come back here?

“I asked first.” She pushes into your space, eyes narrowed, her tone condescending. When you shift to move away from her, she grabs hold of your wrist. 

You don’t expect what comes next. You have no time to prepare as your magic comes alive with the contact. It’s been so long since she’s touched you that a lifetime couldn’t prepare you for her pain.

The absolute onslaught of unchecked emotions feels like agony. Her touch burns. It’s scolding hot with the centuries of anguish and hatred that Agatha has clung to. It seeps under your skin like a parasite.

You want to scream.

You need her to let go. Right now.

“I am not here for you. I want absolutely nothing to do with you.” Your words are brutal, every ounce of hatred you have ever felt is directed at her. You know you will regret this later but right now you are desperate.

Agatha steps back as if you physically slapped her. As if you ran a knife right through her heart. But she lets go, that's what you needed.

When you move away from her, cradling your wrist close to your chest, she scoffs. 

“And they call me cruel.” Her voice wavers, head turned away so you can not see her vulnerability. Your heart already hurts but you say nothing. 

The churning in your stomach makes you feel sick. You weren't expecting her to touch you. You weren't expecting your magic to respond to her.

Not like this. Not after all this time.

As you look down at your trembling hand, fingers clenching into a fist, you know one thing for certain. You didn’t feel a flicker of magic from her when she touched you. 

Agatha has lost her magic.

[hannie-dul-set]

IT’S NOT WORTH TRYING TO LEARN OTHER PEOPLE’S LOVE LANGUAGES.

p — MYUNG JAEHYUN x fem! reader. g — humor, fluff, park sungho learns a lesson about minding his own business. w — swearing, death threats (as a form of flirting). 1.5k words.

requested by — @gluion “go kill yourself x “i’m pretty sure they have a crush on me”

note — part of my ship dynamics: insane edition gimmick. this is very the breakup soup coded. i just like writing about a bunch of idiots stressing about the dumpster fire love life of their friend. enjoy.

myung jaehyun’s friends are pretty sure he’s had a very stable, very loving, very normal upbringing.

“stop staring at me, you fucking creep.”

“sorry, i didn’t mean to make your heart flutter. can’t help it when you’re so pretty.”

“i’ll stab your fucking eyes out.”

“my eyes are all yours, pretty.”

so they can’t wrap their head around why he’s acting like he has not a single ounce of self-respect in his body. sungho and leehan watch as their pitiful friend gets shut down again by the most venomous glare, hostile sneer, deflected by the biggest pair of heart eyes in the world that’s ever longingly following your disappearing figure out the library door. “she wants me so bad,” he concludes with a self-righteous smile as he arranges his notes into one neat stack. sungho and leehan share a look. god almighty, please grant their friend wisdom and salvation.

“what...what makes you say that?” sungho attempts to prod. the first step to finding a solution is to figure out the situation. they need to know why myung jaehyun is so down bad for you, and why he’s so convinced that you feel the same way.

“huh?” jaehyun perks up. like he’s genuinely confused sungho has to ask that. “she was so flustered earlier. couldn’t you tell? it was adorable.”

“she threatened to mutilate you…?” 

jaehyun beams. “she sure did.”

there...there is no point trying to understand him, sungho concludes. leehan is, for lack of a better word, getting mildly frustrated. “hyung, what the hell?” he raises. “if telling someone you want them dead is an indication of romantic feelings, then my middle school bullies must’ve been head over heels for me.”

a silence. a pause. “we’ll unpack that later,” sungho tells him. then shifts his attention back to problem child number one. “you. you’re a grown man who has full autonomy over his actions and feelings, and i know that. but as your friend, i just can’t keep watching you being disrespected, jaehyun. i can’t help but get angry on your behalf when you greet her good morning and alll she does is tell you to go fuck yourself!”

admittedly, sungho got a little bit heated at the end there. but he has every right to feel this emotion on behalf of his dense and seemingly unaffected friend— who is still sitting there, a smile on his face, hands on his lap like a patient buddha who has learned the true meaning of peace and serenity.

“sungho-yah,” jaehyun starts with a pleasant hum. “there’s no need to worry. the feeling is totally mutual. i’m telling you, she likes me back.”

speechless.

in fact, sungho and leehan are beyond speechless. they have no idea where this ungrounded certainty comes from. they certainly have even less of an idea on how to fix his lovesickness, bordering on insanity.

so, reasonably— they call for backup.

“the only way for him to get his shit together is if he asks her out for real and finally gets rejected for good,” taesan declares confidently. somehow, they see a point. riwoo lets out an echo of agreement. woonhak asks why they’re all excluding jaehyun from this after school garage meeting. “do you guys know when he’s planning on doing that?”

“no idea,” leehan answers. “but maybe we can pressure him into it.”

“so, should we encourage him instead of telling him to give it up?” sungho raises. taesan affirms. sungho lets out a grunt and a huff. “god, that’s gonna be tough.”

a resounding voice of dissent arises from woonhak. “i don’t get why you’re all going against jaehyun-hyung!” he yells indignantly. “let hyung love whoever he wants! this is a free country! you guys can’t dictate his love!”

“he’s received fuck you’s straight in the face and swears she’s flirting, woonhak. you’re too young to understand.”

it’s four votes against one. woonhak can’t win against his hyung’s determination to save myung jaehyun from his self-dug pit of pitifulness that he’d been in ever since laying eyes on you at the freshman orientation. god, they never should’ve went. he never should’ve shot down jaehyun’s suggestion to just skip it. maybe then, myung jaehyun would still be normal.

but this is not the time to lament and regret. it’s time for sungho to right his wrongs. it’s time to bring jaehyun’s self-respect back, they decide. and it starts with a wake-up call in the form of your inevitable, brutal rejection. 

which, for some reason, does not happen as planned.

“what?”

“we’re going on a date.” jaehyun is as chipper as ever and sungho’s ears are starting to ring. “thanks for the encouragement, sungho!”

it’s ringing. it’s ringing so badly. “wait, what do you mean you’re going on a date?” he attempts to clarify, grabbing jaehyun by the shoulders because this is two-parts concerning, one-part kind of…proud? this guy actually succeeded? “she said yes? she didn’t tell you to fuck off and die in a hole?”

“she did. she looked pretty while saying it.” jaehyun answers with a bright grin. nevermind. this is all parts concerning. sungho “she also told me she’d kill me if i pick her up late after her class tomorrow. we’re going to have dinner at the thai restaurant that just opened. riwoo recommended it.”

sungho does not understand. he cannot understand because you, who seems to hate all of myung jaehyun’s guts for no discernible reason, agreed to go on a date with him? hello? has jaehyun been right this whole time? do you really reciprocate his feelings? or is this just some new form of torture? is his friend a masochist? is he the weird one for making a big fucking deal out of this? is this how relationships work nowadays?

a thought enters sungho’s mind.

hold on a second—

“anyway, i gotta go, dude. a pretty girl is waiting for me.”

—what if this date is a ploy for you to finally get the chance to kill him?

oh my god.

“wait!” sungho’s face is pale. his eyes are wide and frantic. “don’t—don’t go on the date!”

“hm?” jaehyun bats his eyes at him, taking a moment to think. then sparkles in realization. “oh! don’t worry. i’m not gonna show up looking like this. i’m gonna head home first to change.”

“that’s not the problem! jaehyun! no! no!”

this is it, his friend is going to die. that is, unless, he shows up on your date just in time to stop it. yes. there’s still a chance. he knows where the date is happening. he’s gonna tell the rest of them because there’s no way in hell they’d allow myung jaehyun’s cause of death to read stupidity by misconstruing your murderous intent as affection. they are not only going to save jaehyun’s life— but his dignity as well.

“remember, be quiet. be inconspicuous. they can’t figure out we’re here.”

hopefully, things go as planned this time. all five of them are gathered in a booth at the said thai restaurant, the eventual scene of the crime unless they do something about it. sungho is surveying the scene to find where you and jaehyun are seated. leehan nearly trips over his unnecessarily long trench coat while trying to cover more ground. woonhak is using the menu as cover but has since gotten distracted and has started to pick out his order with riwoo and taesan. “hyung, is the khao soi good?”

“yeah, we should order it.”

“what drinks should we get?”

this is hopeless. this is a mess. their best friend is about to die and all they can think about is dinner.

no matter. sungho can still take care of this himself. his eyes scan the main restaurant wing, from left to right, until his eyes double over in a screeching halt to the back of a very familiar round head—

“huh.”

the back of a very familiar round head that doesn’t seem to be facing the threat of decapitation.

sungho sees you and jaehyun sitting across from one another, jaehyun’s fairly loud voice raising over the music and utensils clattering, people chatting and passing by. “you’ve got something on your face.”

“touch my face, and i’ll kill y— hey!”

first of all, sungho wants to claw his own eyes out seeing his friend being disgustingly sweet. second, jaehyun did touch your face with a napkin and it does not seem like you’re attempting to murder him. in fact, you look flustered even. flushed despite the harbored glare, still seated despite your apparent derision and disgust. the back of jaehyun’s head looks exceedingly happy. the dots aren’t connecting. sungho is malfunctioning. 

“should…should we interfere…?” leehan asks, his nose barely peeking out of the trench coat collar.

“i think...i think we should just leave them alone.”

“but isn’t his life in danger?”

“i misunderstood.”

forget misunderstanding. sungho can’t even behind to understand in the first place and has settled that he wouldn’t even try so long as myung jaehyun is happy— happy with being on the receiving end of fuck you’s and go to hell’s in response to his you’re so pretty’s and see you tomorrow’s, happy with getting his advances swatted away and shut down, happy with whatever the fuck is going on between you and him that sungho really can’t just wrap his head around.

IT’S NOT WORTH TRYING TO LEARN OTHER PEOPLE’S LOVE LANGUAGES. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[creamflix]

toji fushiguro x female reader; heavy, heart-crushing angst, not a lot of comfort. reader is toji's second wife, megumi's step-mom. concept inspired by @/yunymphs nsfw fic, off your shoulders — masterlist here ☆

marriage is supposed to be a blessing, a bond that seals two lives into one, a promise of belonging.

you’d always dreamed of it.

sharing every first moment with someone — the first kiss as newlyweds, the first lazy morning dance in the kitchen, the first time lying side by side, tangled in each other. you’d imagined a life full of firsts, a life that would feel like you’re writing a story together, each page a piece of both of you.

but with toji, the man you love and who loves you, it feels like stepping into the middle of a book already written.

he’s had his firsts, some so precious that traces of them linger like shadows in your home. and you try — god, you try — to let that be enough, to love him and his son, megumi, with all the warmth and devotion you can muster. yet some days, you feel like you’re just outside their world, looking in.

it’s in the everyday moments, these small interactions that remind you of everything they had before you came along. moments like this morning, when you’re up early making breakfast, hoping to surprise toji with something special. you’re chopping vegetables, humming softly to yourself, trying to imagine the look on his face when he comes in, maybe pulls you close and says you don’t have to go through the trouble. you’ve seen couples do that — little gestures to remind each other they’re together.

you want that, too.

but as you start to crack an egg into the pan, you hear megumi calling from down the hall. “dad, where are my soccer cleats?”

your heart clenches. before you can even move to help, toji’s already calling back, voice easy, like it’s a scene they’ve played out a hundred times. “try under the stairs, where your mom used to keep ‘em.”

his mom. megumi’s mom.

the woman who came before you, whose shoes you will never be able to fill.

the words hang in the air, chilling. you place the egg down and pause, the silence settling heavy on your shoulders. you don’t hate her, not in the slightest — you’ve only ever heard lovely things about her. if anything, you’re grateful to her for the habits, routines, the sense of belonging she built with them, for raising megumi to be as kind as he is.

but still, there’s a sting every time she’s mentioned, a reminder that no matter how much you love toji, a part of him will always belong to her.

maybe that’s normal, you tell yourself, shaking off the thought. you grab the spatula, focusing on the way the eggs sizzle in the pan, trying to calm the knot that’s forming in your stomach.

“i’m… making breakfast, by the way,” you call out, trying to keep your voice light. maybe this will be the moment toji notices, realizes you’re trying to make him smile in your own way.

“yeah, thanks, babe,” he says from the hall. he’s already moved on, ruffling megumi’s hair as they laugh about something you can’t quite hear.

right, you think, fighting the wave of hurt that sweeps over you.

maybe that’s just the way it is.

you stare down at the breakfast you prepared, feeling a pang of something deeper than you’d care to admit. you’re doing your best to fit in, to add to the life he’s built, but sometimes, it feels like nothing more than an afterthought. it’s silly, really — you know they care about you, know toji chose you because he loves you.

but love doesn’t always erase what came before.

and it’s not his fault that his past is so deeply woven into their present, into your present.

by the time they wander into the kitchen, you’ve already set out the plates, adding a smile to mask the ache twisting inside you. megumi gives you a small nod, a muttered “thanks,” while toji walks over, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “looks good,” he says with that lazy smirk, and you feel the flutter of warmth, the one that always ignites when he shows even the smallest affection. but it quickly fades as he moves back to his son, launching into an old joke that you don’t understand.

you sit down across from them, feeling the laughter spill around you, each chuckle a reminder of the bond they share. you know it’s unreasonable to feel left out; after all, you’ve only been a part of their lives for a fraction of the time.

and they are good to you. they include you in most things, make an effort to make you feel like part of the family.

but there are these subtle moments, these glances, these familiar gestures, that you can never quite touch.

you watch as toji reaches over, ruffling megumi’s hair, that same fond smile lighting his face. and it’s like watching them dance to a song you can’t hear. a piece of you aches to ask, where do i fit into this?

“you two are adorable,” you say, almost to yourself, hoping they hear the love in your voice despite the sadness resting there.

you can’t say the words that sit heavy in your chest, the longing to belong to them in a way that feels real and whole. instead, you keep your gaze on your plate, focusing on the small bite of eggs you’ve managed to lift to your lips, the only sound in your head the quiet plea that maybe one day, this feeling will pass.

maybe one day, watching them from afar will stop hurting so much.

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[harrywavycurly]

Loving a Killer: Mistakes in a Hardware Store

Pairing: Killer!Harry x wife!reader

Masterlist: Here

CW: Harry is a tad bit over protective in this, threats of violence, semi angsty bits, language.

A/N: Harry had done something wrong and shockingly enough it has nothing to do with what he does for a living, so enjoy him trying to get you to forgive him✨

“Looking at it every five seconds isn’t going to make it magically start ringing you know that right?” Harry just ignores Mitch’s comment as he looks at his phone for the sixth time in the last five minutes, letting out a sigh when he all he’s met with is the date and time on his Lock Screen, no message from you or your name flashing across it like it normally does when you call him. “Trouble in paradise?” Mitch asks as he looks over and watches Harry run a hand through his hair as he tosses his phone onto his desk.

“She’s not talking to me.” Is all he says before he stands up and begins pacing the length of his desk while Mitch spins his chair around so his back is facing his own desk allowing him to watch his bestfriend have what he could only describe as a breakdown of some sort due to not having heard from you all day. Harry pauses and runs a hand over his face then just looks at Mitch over his shoulder. “I think she’s mad-”

“What did you do?” Harry lets out a groan as he walks over to his desk and places his hands flat on top of it and Mitch raises a brow at him when he notices him look down and close his eyes while letting out a deep sigh. “Harry tell me you didn’t-”

“You’ve got to stop assuming I’m walking around killing people without telling you.” Harry jokes as he lifts his head to send Mitch a glare. “I didn’t even really put my hands on anyone this time.” He explains making his friend just roll his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Then what exactly did you do?”

“She went with me to get some stuff so I can fix the shed door in the backyard and while we were at the hardware store some dude came up to her and started chatting her up so I might’ve threatened him a little.”

“You’re such a hot head man you need to relax and realize your wife is a catch so dudes are going to want to try to flirt with her.”

“What the hell did you just say?” Mitch doesn’t even flinch at how harsh Harry’s tone is as he straightens himself up and takes a step towards him with a quirked brow, Mitch is extremely familiar to this side of his bestfriend. “I’m just supposed to let people flirt with her and think they have some sort of shot with her?”

“They’ll know they don’t have a shot with her because she’ll let them know. She doesn’t need you to do it.” Mitch casually explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world but Harry just lets out a scoff and throws his hands up in air, clearly annoyed at the idea of having his wife be the one to tell creeps to leave her alone.

“She shouldn’t have to worry about telling wanks who want to chat her up to fuck off.” He snaps while he walks back over to his desk to reach for his phone. “I’m her husband it’s my job to do that for her.” Mitch rolls his eyes at his explanation as he watches Harry tap away on his phone.

“No it’s your job to trust her and let her handle herself in situations like that.” Harry can’t help but feel his heart sink as Mitch’s words hit him, he knows he can be a tad bit overprotective when it comes to you and that often leads to him overreacting in certain situations but he’s never thought about how him reacting the way that he does could make you feel as if he doesn’t trust you or think you can’t handle yourself.

“I do trust her.” Mitch just nods as he uncrosses his arms so he can stand up from his chair. “I just-you know how I am with her.” He says with a sigh as Mitch takes a step towards him so he can place a hand on his shoulder.

“I know how you are with her and I know it’s because you love her but sometimes it’s a little much. But the real question is how are you gonna fix this?” Mitch asks as he gives Harry’s shoulder a squeeze before letting it go. “I hear flowers work wonders.” He suggests making Harry send him a glare making Mitch chuckle because sometimes it’s glaringly obvious how single Mitch is compared to Harry.

“Already had a bouquet delivered to her office this morning since she only works a half day today.” He mumbles and Mitch just gives him a nod of approval as he watches Harry tap a few things on his phone before he locks it and slides into his back pocket. “I have to go. You good to handle the rest of the day without me?” Harry questions making Mitch just brush him off as he turns to head back towards his desk.

“Yeah I’m fine we have that Gavin guy tomorrow and today is just paperwork.” Harry just nods at Mitch’s answer before he gathers his keys and tosses his work bag over his shoulder. “Good luck.” Mitch says with a smile as Harry gives him one more glance before turning and heading out their shared office door and down the hallway for the door that opens to the stairs leading up to the lobby of the building the two of them work at.

Harry hates the feeling he gets when he walks inside the front door, he’s not met with the usual warmth that always radiates off of you and seeps into his body and relaxes him as it makes its way from his tired feet all the way up to his sore shoulders. Today he’s met with silence and the utter coldness that comes with it and it’s almost enough to send a shiver down his spine, but the only thing that keeps him from turning around and leaving is that he knows you’re home because he parked next to your car in the driveway and he is willing to do anything get your warmth back into the house.

He knows where you’re at, it’s just something that he can’t help with what he does for a living he knows how to keep track of people when they’re in relatively close proximity to him. So as soon as he walked in the front door he could see your foot hanging off the love seat tucked away in the corner of the living room near the bookshelf next to the floor lamp that you opted to turn on instead of the main light. He acts as if he didn’t see you as he drops his keys in the bowl by the door and slips his shoes off before he makes his way into the kitchen where he places his work bag on the table, he can feel your eyes on him from the living room and he takes that as a decent sign that you’re even wanting to look at him.

He runs a hand through his hair as he contemplates his next move, he knows you don’t like confrontation so you won’t be the one to tell him you’re mad at him so if he wants this to get resolved in a timely manner he’s going to need to be the one to initiate the conversation but he’s just not in a hurry to hear you say you’re upset with him. So Harry does what he thinks is the best thing to do in the moment because he knows you, he knows what you really need from him in this moment and he’s more than willing to give it to you if it spares him, at least for a few minutes from having to hear you tell him how unhappy he made you the other day. He turns around and quietly heads into the living room, he watches as you close the book he knows you stopped reading the moment he walked through the front door and place it on the side table near the lamp. As soon as he’s in front of you he reaches down and grabs your hands as he drops to his knees, he looks at you as he brings your hands to his lips and places sweet kisses to your knuckles and he doesn’t miss the slight shade of pink your cheeks get at his actions.

“I’m sorry baby.” He makes sure his words come out nice and clear so you don’t miss them between little pecks to your knuckles. “I know I made you upset yesterday and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have threatened him or-”

“We’ve had this conversation before haven’t we Harry?” You ask making Harry just swallow before nodding his head and he swears he feels his heart drop to his stomach when you turn and look away from him. “I know you want to protect me from all the creeps and jerks but Harry yesterday you-”

“Don’t say it.” He cuts you off as he lets your hands slip out of his as he stands up. “Please don’t say it.” His voice is low as he takes a small step away from you as he feels as if his world might be crumbling down around him as the thought of you telling him you were afraid of him bounces around in his head.

“Harry look at me.” He can’t help himself as he does what you ask because even though his whole world may feel like it’s on the verge of falling apart he’s still your husband, the man who hasn’t ever really been able to not do whatever it is you ask of him. “I’m not afraid of you.” He feels your hands on his arms slowly running up until they are cupping the sides of his face making sure he can’t look away from you. Your words take a moment to sink in through the layers of sheer panic and anxiety running through his mind but when they finally do Harry lets out a deep breath and feels as if his legs could give out at any moment with the amount of relief that washes over him.

“I was going to say that in that moment you were being one of the jerks you try to protect me from all the time.” All Harry can do is just nod because you’re right, he was being exactly the type of person he tries to keep you away from and honestly Harry is still recovering from the fact you admitted you aren’t afraid of him so a nod is the best he can do in the moment. “You threatened someone’s life all because he was asking me if I had any recommendations for a good weather resistant wood varnish.” When Harry rolls his eyes he instantly knows it’s a mistake because he feels your hands drop from his face making his lips turn downward into a slight frown while you take a few steps away from him.

“I’m sorry sweetheart but that was clearly a line and he was trying to flirt-”

“So him flirting with me means you need to come in and grab him by his shirt and tell him that if he so much as looks at me again the next project you’ll be working on will be his coffin?” Harry can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve raised your voice since he’s met you, each time has almost always been towards him and he hates that he’s the one who gets you to the point where you lose your ability to speak in your usual soft and gentle tone and are left with no choice but to make your voice louder and a little meaner in hopes it’ll help get your point across more clearly.

“I didn’t mean to grab him. That was a mistake.” He doesn’t make an attempt to get closer to you even though every part of him wants to reach out and pull you into him, he wants to give you the space you need to tell him exactly how his actions made you feel and he knows you won’t be able to do that if he crowds you. And as much as he normally loves to play dirty and use his knowledge against you, this time he wants you to get everything out because he wants to be better for you so if he has to stand here and take it for a few more minutes then so be it.

“Was that the only mistake you made yesterday?” He wants to say he really didn’t make any mistakes yesterday but he doesn’t, he just rubs his lips together as you place a hand on your hip letting him in on the fact you’re getting annoyed at this conversation.

“Please just answer me because I don’t want to argue with you anymore but I need to know if you really think that’s the only mistake you made yesterday.” Harry can tell by the slight pleading tone of your voice that you’re beginning to break, your walls of anger are starting to crumble and he can’t help himself but feel a small sense of relief because he can work with this, he can find a way to make your walls come down and get you to forgive him.

“No.” He answers as he takes a small cautious step towards you making you raise an eyebrow at him as a signal to have him elaborate on his answer. “I shouldn’t have threatened him or raised my voice in the store because I know how you feel about causing scenes in public.” He adds as he takes another small step towards you and he can’t help the small smirk that forms on his face when he sees your hand drop from your hip as you playfully roll your eyes at the mention of causing a scene.

“Anything else?” Your voice is much softer now and Harry feels like this is a good time to take a chance so he reaches an arm out so he can place a hand on your hip and he smiles when you don’t make any moves to wiggle out of his grasp or bring your own hand down to push his away.

“Letting you give me the silent treatment for the rest of the day. That’s probably the biggest mistake I made because you know how much I love hearing you talk.” Now normally you’d take that as a tease of some sort but Harry’s not an idiot, or at least not in this moment so he’s sure to sound as serious as possible without ruining the lighthearted mood that’s beginning to form between the two of you.

“You love hearing me talk?” Harry just gives you a smile as he ever so gently pulls you closer to him by his hold on your hip.

“Your voice is one of my favorite sounds.” He admits without a single drop of hesitation because it’s the truth. “Especially right before you fall asleep and it’s this mixture of a whisper and just mumbles of nonsense.” His eyes stare into yours as he raises his free hand so he can brush a few strands of hair out of your face and back behind your ear. “But my favorite is when it’s got this hint of excitement to it like when you’re telling me about a new book you found that you’re now obsessed with or better yet the rants you go on about books you hate those are very fun and your voice gets this almost twinge of absolute disgust to it that I always find entertaining because it’s so rare you find something you don’t like.” He keeps his hand on the side of your face cupping your jaw, gently running his thumb over your cheek.

“So really baby it about killed me not getting to hear your voice for a whole day all because I was an asshole and couldn’t handle some guy flirting with you in a Home Depot.” He wants to pull your face towards his and seal his words with a kiss but he doesn’t, he’s a gentleman after all and knows it’s only right to let you decide when he’s earned his kissing privileges back sees as you just broke the day long silent treatment you were giving him not even five minutes ago.

“His name was Brad.” Harry’s grip on your hip tightens a little while he other hand falls from your face as you give him an unwanted detail of your encounter yesterday. “Maybe if you knew that before you went all crazy on him you would’ve reconsidered? Because who’s going to pick some dude named Brad over their hot husband named Harry?” He just chuckles as you give him a playful smirk while reaching your hands up to grab both sides of his face.

“Well when you put it like that.” He jokes as he feels you begin to pull his face down towards yours. “I really am sorry sweetheart I swear it won’t happen again.” He whispers as he bumps the tip of his nose into yours making you smile.

“I know you are and that’s why I forgive you.” That’s all Harry needs to hear before he allows himself to close the gap between his lips and yours, he feels you smile against his lips as you pull him even closer to you when you feel him try to pull away.

“I love you.” He mumbles between kisses making you giggle as your hands go from his face down to his chest so you can grip onto his shirt while his hand holds onto the back of your neck.

In this moment Harry knows that the two of you are going to be okay, that while you may hate how he over reacts and gets a little too protective at times, you still love him and haven’t decided to give up on him or at least not yet. So Harry decides right then and there that he’s going to actually try to be better, but while he really will try he can’t promise he won’t mess up every now and then because he’s still Harry, and when it comes to you he doesn’t think he’ll ever be okay with people getting too close or being too friendly.

[midnightspasms]

Pairing: Professor!Geto x reader

Synopsis: Geto likes your type. The kind of girl who'd never risk her future by engaging in any sort of inappropriate rendezvous with her nasty professor, him. So when you apply to become his teaching assistant, he can't let the opportunity go.

Content warnings: Swearing, male masturbation, lewd/perverse behaviour, age gap, teacher x student relationship, spit sharing if you squint, Geto is a creep and a pervert!

Suguru wouldn't exactly consider himself a moral person. Sure, he didn't steal or kill, but that was the bare minimum. He wouldn't ever fail a student purely because he didn't like their face, but maybe he'd put much of the topics they struggled in in the test. So sure he wasn't exactly Jack the Ripper, but he wasn't that much of a good person.

The first day you walked into his class, he could tell that there was something in his chest for you. It wasn't serious, wasn't plentiful. Truly, if you dropped the class, he'd probably end up forgetting you entirely.

But you didn't, and the more he saw you, well...

He likes the kind of girl you are; the pretty, wealthy heiress with gold on her wrists and diamonds on her ears. You're the girl with a meticulously crafted reputation. The model student with big brains and a nice ass but doesn't show off the latter. The one that's gonna graduate Summa Cum Laude and pretend like that's what landed her summer internship and not daddy's connections.

Oh, he likes your type. The kind of girl who'd never risk her future by engaging in any sort of inappropriate rendezvous with her nasty professor, him.

When you apply to be his TA, he's pleased. He picks you without hesitation, throwing the rest of the applications in the bin.

When you step into his office with your not-too-tight top and not-too-short skirt that does nothing to hide that ass, he grins at you lazily, pleasantly, as you sit before his desk and he begins giving you the rundown of your work as his TA.

"You can begin with grading those papers," he says afterwards, voice smooth like velvet, deep like a 15-foot well as he gestures to the pile of test scripts on his desk.

You look over to the pile of test scripts at the edge of his desk. "Sure," you hum as you stand and pick up the stack.

You look up at him, Professor Geto, "Is there a marking guide I could use?" You ask him slowly as you stand before his desk.

Out of all your professors, Geto was probably the one that intimidated you the most. And not in a scary way, it was the way he was; the languid yet confident way he carried himself that made him seem untouchable, made him seem so far away from the other academic staff.

You became his TA because of his connections in the world of academia. Otherwise, he unsettled you.

Geto cocks his head to the side, arms crossing over his chest, as he regards you with a languorous blink. He's amused, though for what reason, you don't know.

He lets out a small huff, a sort of exhale through his nose as he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a slender booklet. It's a copy of the marking guide; crisp and new. He hands it to you, eyes never once leaving your face.

"You're a smart girl," he says lowly, voice honeyed and smooth.

You take it from him with your free hand, "Thank you."

You turn around and wake over to the smaller desk next to his, putting the pile of scripts down on the wood. "Do I have a time constraint, sir?"

Geto sits back in his own chair, the leather making a quiet creaking noise as he folds one leg over the other, ankle over knee. He leans his elbow against the chair handle, his jaw propped on his knuckles.

"No, not exactly," he replies with a shrug. "Do it in your own pace."

You hum as you take a seat, your lips pursed. "Alright." You say as you pick up the first script.

You sit with your ankles crossed, the marking guide to your right as you begin grading the scripts. It's the scripts of freshman students, and it's obvious in the way the answers are structured.

You furrow my brows as you lean closer, trying to grade it the way your professor does, strict but not harsh, and with comments on how to improve.

All the while, Geto watches you. There's something almost voyeuristic in the way he does so - as if he were a photographer taking a candid picture of a woman without her knowledge. His eyes slowly drift over your form, the way the sunlight shines on your hair, the way you push a stray strand away from your face, the way your skirt tightens over your thighs...

It's strange. He doesn't even really like you, but there's something about you that pulls him towards you like a moth to a flame.

And you can't deny that the atmosphere is calming. The silence in the air and the air conditioning has your focused, and you finish the scripts in a little over an hour, silent as you put the last paper on top of the pile. "I'm done, sir." You call out to him as you finish, turning to look at him.

When you turn to look at him, he lifts an eyebrow, and his mouth slowly quirks up. "All thirty test scripts in an hour?" he says disbelievingly, but the impressed tone in his voice betrays his words. "I knew you were smart, but God damn."

You purse your lips as he speaks. "Would you like to go over them?" You ask slowly, eyeing the scripts. Now that he's expressed such surprise in the time you'd used, you can't help but doubt your work.

He lets out a low chuckle as he uncrosses his legs and stands up from his chair, rolling his shoulders back as the muscles in his back flex. He's a tall man with a wide chest, a lean swimmer's physique, all lean muscle and languid grace.

He walks over to your desk, and looks down at the pile of testscripts before he picks one of them up, thumbing through it.

You sit forward on your chair, a leg crossed over the other as you eye him tensely. Your elbows on the desk, fingers holding your pen to your mouth as you slowly, absently chew on the cap at the end of it.

Geto's gaze is how it always is, meticulous and calculated, as he scans through. The way he flips through papers, the way he stands, the subtle yet immense precision and grace in his posture as he examines your work only makes you more on edge.

While you sit there, tense and with a pen in your mouth, Geto stands tall and relaxed beside you. He reads through some of the answers for a minute, before he hums and nods to himself.

Then, slowly, he sets the paper down and looks down at you, and his gaze drifts down to your mouth, where your pen is in between your teeth.

He reaches out, and without saying a word, he gently pulls the pen from your mouth with his fingers.

Your lips partly just slightly as he pulls the pen from them, and you say nothing about it.

Geto holds the pen in his hand, idly spins it through his fingers with a practiced dexterity. His gaze drifts to your mouth, now open slightly, before it slowly lifts to your eyes.

Then, he lets out a huffed laugh, and looks away.

"Your grading is good," he says slowly, a hint of amused surprise in his voice as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. "You picked all the correct answers, and you gave just enough critique. Good girl."

The praise feels inappropriate, but then again, everything about Geto does.

"Thank you, sir." You murmur as your gaze drifts down to the pen in his hand. Embarrassingly, you can see the shine of your saliva on it, and a weird feeling spurs in your belly at the thought of your professor holding that pen. "I tried to emulate your grading."

As you mention emulating his grading, he hums, a languid sound in the back of his throat as he glances back at you. He doesn't smile, not really, but the amused look in his eyes only deepens.

"You did a good job of it," he says lowly. "You've a knack for this."

You can't help but smile. It's a slow, little one, but there's a tiny hint of pride in your eyes. "Thank you. Honestly... I didn't think I'd do this cause of scheduling difficulties." You murmur. You already have a lot on your plate. Truly, you only applied to be his TA so you could get recommended for Master's programs.

His eyes remain on you, taking in the small, slow smile that curves your lips. He's never really seen you smile in class, and the way your small mouth curves up on the edges makes you look so different.

Your phone buzzes then. You look down at it and Geto looks down at you.

"I have a meeting now, sir." You say as you stand, relieved to finally be done after grading those scripts.

"Sure," he says, voice deceptively light as he lets the word roll off his tongue. "Have fun, darling."

You offer a noncommittal hum as you grab your bag, hanging it over your shoulder as you turn to leave.

"Good night, sir." You tell him slowly as you bow once before making your way out of the room.

Geto's eyes remain on you as you walk out the door, watching the way your hips sway.

Once the door closes after you, he stands in place for a moment, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Then, he sits back down in his chair with a huff, picking up your pen again, tracing his thumb over the cap.

Even as he sits alone in his classroom, Geto thinks about you.

That small, barely-there pout you had on your face as you left, the way you walked away from him with your hips and ass swaying, the way you sat before him and focused on your grading for an hour.

He brings the pen to his mouth, and before he can even fully register what he's doing, he sticks the tip of the pen into his mouth, tasting the drying remnants of your saliva on the cap.

He's not quite sure what he's doing, but once he tastes the residue of you on the tip of the pen, a single thought runs through his head.

What would you taste like?

He pulls the pen out of his mouth with a quiet pop as his thoughts wander, a sly, serpentine smile on his lips.

He looks down at the pen, tracing the writing on the body idly with his eyes, before he lets out a soft hum.

Oh, he's going to have fun with this...

He slowly pushes back from his desk, the chair letting out a creaking noise. He stands up from his chair and walks over to the door, quietly opening it, peeking his head out and looking at the quiet, empty hallway.

He can't see anyone. It's completely deserted, not a single person in sight.

Geto steps back into his office with a satisfied hum and locks the door with a click. The silence in the room is deafening. No one's there to interrupt him. He walks back to his desm with no apprehension.

Geto leans back against his chair, palms planted on the wood of his desk as he stares down at the pen he still holds in one hand. He holds it up in front of his face, and he slowly runs his tongue over the plastic.

Your saliva tastes slightly sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Intoxicating. Just like you...

Geto lets out a quiet exhale as he imagines the taste of you in his mouth. He's never tasted you - of course he hasn't - but the thought of that saliva being on his tongue and not on some inanimate pen is enough to make him shiver.

He looks down at the pen again, at the saliva shine, the way it gleams in the light...

He pops the cap into his mouth and swirls it around with his tongue. A quiet grunt escapes his chest as he tastes you on the plastic, and he slowly brings a hand down to his trousers...

He knows he really shouldn't be doing this, not in his office, not after hours, not as your professor. But something about you turns him on, badly. Maybe it's the way you bite your lower lip when you're focused, maybe it's the cute way you chew on the pen caps, maybe it's the way you look him in the eyes with that tiny, little pout...

The thought of you looking up at him, down on your knees, mouth open in front of him...

He lets out a hiss, leaning back against the edge of the desk as he palms himself through his pants. He closes his eyes and lets out a low moan as he pictures it, one hand cupping his bulge through his trousers and the other keeping him steady on the desk as his mind conjures up images he's never had before.

You're not just a pretty girl, no, you're a smart, pretty girl. The kind that gets straight As and knows how to use your words.

You could probably talk him into almost anything, if you tried. That thought makes his knees almost buckle.He knows that you're too good, too pure to be as dirty as him, too innocent to be as perverted as he is right now, but still, he can't get the images out of his head.

Imagining you in front of him, on your knees, wearing that pretty green skirt of yours, looking up at him with that little pout on your face as he tells you to do whatever he says...

"Darling." he murmurs your name, voice husky and rough as he unbuckles his belt one-handedly and spits out the cap of then pen unto his free palm before dropping it on his desk. The metal of the buckle clinking against itself. He unzips his trousers quickly, hands almost shaking in his eagerness.

He knows this is wrong, that it's wrong to think about you like this, but God, he can't stop. He lets out a quiet moan as his hand wraps around his already hard, the head already slightly sticky with pre-cum. He strokes himself once, twice.

He's used to imagining nameless, faceless girls, the kind they use in porn, the kind that don't make the right noises, but instead of that, instead of them... he's imagining you now.

You're not even here right now, but he can almost hear you. The way your voice gets all soft when you're focused, the cute little noises you make when you're concentrating on your work.

He can practically see it now. You, on your knees, looking up at him between his legs, watching him with that cute little pout on your face as he tells you to do whatever he says...

He can't hold back from letting out a moan as the thoughts continue to spiral. He imagines you looking up at him through your eyelashes, pink, little tongue sticking out of your mouth, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

"Darling," he says breathlessly, eyes still closed, "Open your mouth for me."

He tightens his grip around his cock, stroking just a tad faster as the scene changes, imagining you in nothing, looking up at him with your eyes wide and eager on your knees.

And, because he knows you're good, his brain even supplies him with the image of you begging him to do it. "Fuck-" He chokes out a groan, squeezing at the base of his cock.

It's all slimy and moist at this point, his purple head still bubbling out pre as he masturbates to the thought of you, hips bucking into his hand like a schoolboy virgin.

He can't hold back from letting out a moan as the thoughts continue to spiral. He imagines you looking up at him through your eyelashes, pink, little tongue sticking out of your mouth, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

"Shit baby," he says breathlessly, eyes squeezed shut, free hand tightly gripping the arm of the chair till his knuckles are white. He's going to cum soon and he knows, the room filled with the nasty schlack schlack of his hand furiously stroking his dick. "Open your mouth for me, baby."

God, he can't get enough of the thought. You, with that cute little pout, opening your mouth, wanting to do as he says, wanting to be good and swallow all the cum he's goibg to release.

"Oh Godddd," his head falls back, neck against the headrest as his hips buck up into his palm and his body goes tight like a bowstring.

His dick spurts it out when Getou finally cums, ropes of sticky, white arousal landing on his stomach and his slacks.

He's breathing heavily when he finally comes down, limp dick still in his grip as his eyes catch the pen cap on his desk. Your pen cap.

"Fuck- I have to fuck her."

[crystallizedtwilight]

🎃 LSBC Questions: Part 21! 🎃

Lock, Shock, Barrel, and Calliope questions that call for quick answers will be under the cut in batches of 10-15 🧡

Previous bulk questions batch

The tomb portals lead all over the world! I imagine some monsters might learn additional languages over time, perhaps the more ancient ones already have! Shock always tries to learn just enough of a language to order them food at festivals. [1] [2] [3] [4]

He still mixes up their names!

The Town Trio are side characters in this AU so I won't be going into their lives too much.

No. Sally IS queen in this AU, though! As such, she helps plan Halloweens (Jack eagerly listens to her excellent suggestions) and she also acts as a great source of advice for any townsfolk who need her wisdom (they all adore her). She also pursues her dream of being the town seamstress and finds her new roles of wife, queen, and fashion artist everything she ever dreamed of 🧡

You're telling us we get to run wild? And scare humans? For CANDY? It was a magical night and it wasn't long before they became known as Halloween Town's Finest Trick-Or-Treaters!

Heights are here! I purposefully made Shock and Lock the exact same height (because of course they'd turn it into a competition) and the most hilarious option is that it's a perfect tie!

Red is Lock's favorite color so he thinks humans got lucky with that one. Still, having grown up in Halloween Town, the trio are used to all different types of anatomies and differences being the norm, so humans are just another species with their own quirks!

Probably not. They know each other as the names that make them happiest now and that's all they need. And they both probably think it's too sappy to admit but...since their names are a play on a merism that embodies the concept of "completeness" it helps them feel like they're a part of something and that they'll always have each other.

The trio enjoy being called by their full names by friends and partners!

Shock and Lock reacted with skepticism that Shock eventually surmounted and Lock still hasn't fully. Barrel was just excited for a new area for him and his friends to have fun in.

Snack: Honey butter toast Dog: ALL (though Zero is a top contender) Time of Day: Night Weather: Clear skies so she can see the stars Color: Blue Place: With Shock

Before and after the upgrade Layout Each of their rooms

Halloween Town is incredibly diverse in all aspects, where there is no standard way to be, nor pressure to be anything other than yourself. Shock always knew she liked women, Lock always knew he liked men, and Barrel always knew he liked all.

Calliope knows Shock's childhood was rocky mostly through "I know how you feel" comments relating sadness, and has the general understanding that the trio weren't always on the best terms with the town, but Shock will tell her when the time is right.

I always imagined the trio were the only ones with up-to-date technology but the idea of Jack getting a phone that he can't use just to be up to speed sounds hilarious. Like it rings and he's just like "Magnificent! 😄" and puts it back in his pocket.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 88 (Bringing Home a Ghost)

After Ghost Night ended at the Salty Paw, Heather, Conrad, and their new friend Felix Psyded left Fisherman's Wharf and returned to their home on Sable Square. Heather entered first, finding Hazel on the sofa watching TV. "Hey, how were the kids tonight?"

"They were great! Ashy said you guys usually read him two bedtime stories but he fell asleep after the first one, and Lava hasn't woken up since I put her to bed. I got to watch Moonlight Massacre after all! How was your night?"

"It was nice! We went looking for a man we didn't find, but we met someone else while we were there..."

Conrad walked inside the front door as Felix floated in behind them. Heather stood, as Hazel looked up from her phone in quiet awe. "Felix Psyded, Esquire. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss."

"Hazel Moody-Nesbitt," she replied. "Heather's cooler younger sister. You're, like, really a ghost!"

"Since 1915." He warmly tipped his bowler hat. "May I say, you're stunning like your sister."

"You may say! But I'm married."

"Of course the lovely Nesbitt women would all be spoken for. Though I hope your husband is friendlier than Sargent Gordon."

Hazel laughed. "My wife is sweet, but Conrad's great! Are you the one guy in the world he doesn't get along with?"

Heather sighed, sliding over to make room for Conrad on the sofa. "They got off on the wrong foot."

"Well, why'd you bring him home? I know you love strays, but I didn't think that meant people who've been dead for over a century!"

"They've promised me a plate of ambrosia in exchange for my services."

Hazel gaped. "When you guys said you were doing this challenge I just thought it was, like, a team building exercise. I didn't think you were really going to resurrect anybody!"

Heather shrugged. "Well, why shouldn't we? We went through all that to learn how to do it, so we might as well help someone with unfinished business while were at it."

"So is that it, then? No one dies, they just get to live again with ambrosia?"

"Not everyone's unfinished business is to live again. Some die so old, with bodies so used and broken, living again isn't worth it. Even some of the younger ones. Everyone is different and fascinating in their own way, which is why I took to studying ghosts and their stories in the first place."

"He's going to help us figure out if Conrad met a ghost out on Deadgrass Isle."

Hazel grinned as Conrad stood to shoo one of their chickens back outside. "You're fighting crime by day and paranormal activity by night? Holly was right, Conrad. You're basically a superhero."

He blushed, and Felix turned a dour look in his direction. Ending the tense conversation in the living room, Hazel left to return home.

Heather and Conrad left Felix on the sofa and headed to bed. But before they'd changed into pajamas, she blurted her question with concern. "What's going on with you? I've never seen you snappier with anyone than you were tonight with Felix. Like I brought home two ghosts tonight instead of one."

"He was kind of acting like a dick."

Heather nodded. "And you met him there. That's not like you. Is it George Brindleton again?"

"No, George has been quiet. He and his wife spend a lot of the winter in Sulani every year." He could see Heather found this insufficient and kept talking. "I'm just dealing with a lot. I know I wasn't really myself tonight. There's this one case I can't crack and it's making me a little crazy."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I do, but I can't say much about it."

"I know. Confidential. But I want to give you whatever you need to be able to keep your work life at work, and not take the stress home. Not even for me and the kids, because you're so good to us. That's not the issue. I'm worried about you, and I want you to talk to me. The night we got engaged, you promised you would always tell me how you're feeling."

Joining her on the bed, he held her hand against his chest. "When I've finally solved the case, I'll tell you everything. I promise."

She grinned. "Not every gory detail, I hope."

"Do I ever? I don't want to think about the case tonight. I don't want to think about the ghost in our living room. All I want to focus on the rest of the night is you."

They made love before Heather fell asleep in Conrad's arms, (at least temporarily) satisfied by their conversation. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: I debated whether or not to bring Felix Psyded and his lore into this generation because there's a university generation much, much later in this challenge, but Felix was the first ghost that showed up to Ghost Night, sat right next to them and was immediately enamoured with Heather. So my mind spun with a bunch of possibilities for him and I went for it, even though he's mentioned in urban legends for UBrite students and those obviously won't be canon to my timeline anymore.

The In Bloom challenge doesn't have anything related to Felix in the challenge rules, even in the university generation, and Reaper Rewards didn't even require use of the ambrosia Heather made. But I wasn't going to do all that and not fully finish what they started. They're not really the type to lure sims into a cowplant just to test whether ambrosia works, no one in my save needed to die and be brought back, and I have a plan now for Felix! @pixeldistractions mentioned a possible prequel flashback and I'll never say never, but setting up an early-20th Century photo save will take a while if I do it, so no promises. I am invested in him getting a happy ending to his second life, however!

[capquinn]

the world needs more dad!quinn

please please please whatever your thoughts are

how about quinny being a nervous wreck about telling his daughter that there’s another baby on the way?

You were pregnant, and it was beautiful and thrilling, but you both felt a hint of apprehension too — an undercurrent of worry neither of you wanted to admit out loud. The idea of sharing the news with your daughter, your first little love, brought out a nervousness you hadn’t expected. You and Quinn had been carrying the news gently, holding it like something fragile, not ready to break the quiet, precious bubble that was the life you’d built with her.

You’d spent nights together whispering about it, wondering if she’d understand. She was only little, after all, and hadn’t ever asked about a sibling or shown any real curiosity about what it meant to share her world. In her own quiet way, she seemed perfectly content being the center of yours, completely secure in her little life where it was just the three of you. The last thing you wanted was for her to feel overlooked or, even worse, like she was being edged out of her place in the family.

Quinn felt it too. In the quiet hours of the night, he’d lie awake beside you, tracing absent-minded circles on your hand, his brow furrowed, eyes distant with worry. The thought of your daughter, his whole world, feeling even a hint of neglect made him feel almost dizzy. She’d been the center of his life from the moment she was born, the one who turned him from simply Quinn into dad, and now, he couldn’t bear the idea of her ever feeling anything less than cherished.

One night, his voice barely a murmur in the dark, he confessed, “What if she thinks we’re going to love her less?”

You reached out, brushing a hand through his hair, reassuring him softly, though you shared the same unease. He tried to shake it, telling himself she’d feel just as adored, that nothing would change, but the worry still lingered. She was his little Bug, the one he’d stayed up with through endless nights of colic, the one whose first steps he’d recorded with misty eyes. To him, the thought of her feeling anything less than completely cherished was unthinkable.

So every time you had started to tell her, a little voice would hold you back, and you’d both decide, without really saying it, to let it wait.

But then, on a soft Saturday morning, with the three of you cuddled on the couch, her hand found its way to your belly. It was unintentional, or at least, it seemed that way, her small fingers spread gently across your stomach as if she could feel the life growing there, instinctively protective. Quinn noticed it first, his eyes widening slightly as he gave you a nudge, nodding down. You glanced down, heart skipping a beat at the sight, her touch resting over your belly with a gentle certainty, like maybe she knew all along.

It was a sign, one you both took as the moment you’d been waiting for. And as you looked at her, so small and so perfectly at ease, you knew it was time.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you say, voice soft, “can we tell you a little secret?”

She glances up at you, her big eyes wide and calm, curiosity glimmering beneath the sleepy contentment on her face. You can feel Quinn shift closer beside you, his hand squeezing yours in a quiet show of support.

But when you open your mouth, the words won’t come, and there’s a moment of quiet where she’s looking at you, waiting, her gaze expectant and patient. You glance at Quinn, feeling that hesitation rise up again, but he gives you a gentle nod. And then, in his own way, he steps in.

“C’mere, Bug,” he murmurs, reaching over to beckon her closer, patting his lap.

She crawls over to him, and with his help, she settles against his chest, her small head resting over his heart. He wraps his arms around her, one hand rubbing her back, as he leans in close, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur, like he’s letting her in on a secret meant only for the three of you.

“You know how it’s always been you, mommy, and me?” he starts, his tone soft, almost hesitant, and she nods, still wide-eyed and listening. He smiles, glancing at you for reassurance before he continues. “Well… pretty soon, you’re going to have a baby brother or sister to play with.”

She blinks, taking it in, her gaze flicking to your belly for a second as if she’s trying to make sense of it. Then, she looks back at Quinn.

“A baby?” she whispers, voice thick with sleep, and you both nod, watching her with your hearts on edge, waiting.

For a moment, she’s silent, her face thoughtful and serious, and you feel Quinn’s hand tighten around yours, his own anxiety palpable.

But then she just gives a small nod, and in a soft voice, says, “okay.”

It’s the quietest reaction, but it’s enough to make the tension release between you and Quinn. He presses a kiss to her forehead, a small sigh of relief escaping him, but you can see he’s still holding back, waiting for more.

At breakfast, though, her thoughts start to spill out in bursts between bites of toast and fruit.

“Where is the baby going to sleep?” she asks, her little brows furrowing as she looks between you and Quinn, her tone unexpectedly serious.

There’s something in her voice — concern, perhaps — that makes it sound like she’s the responsible parent, the one overseeing this whole arrangement, questioning two teenagers caught in a situation they hadn’t fully thought through. Her question hangs in the air, blunt and practical, with just a hint of wariness that catches you both a little off-guard.

Quinn bites back a laugh, glancing at you, and then clears his throat to compose himself. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“Well,” he says gently, trying to match her level of seriousness, “for a while, the baby will sleep in our room. You know, just like you did when you were little.”

She seems to mull that over, a little frown still creasing her forehead, but she nods.

As breakfast continues, her questions come out one by one, and each answer seems to ease her, little by little, until you see that small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

By the end of breakfast, she’s trailing behind Quinn as he tidies up, her little fingers catching on his sleeve, tugging gently. When he glances down, she’s looking up at him with those wide, steady eyes, and there’s a question there that makes his heart catch.

“Can I help with the baby?” she asks, her voice small but sure, and the hesitation you’d both been so afraid of is nowhere to be found. It’s replaced with something that melts every worry in an instant — a gentle curiosity, tinged with a spark of excitement that mirrors your own, like she’s beginning to imagine this new chapter with a mix of wonder and eagerness.

Quinn’s eyes soften, and a wave of quiet relief sweeps over him as he meets your gaze across the kitchen. The tension in his shoulders melts, replaced with a pride that pounds in his chest. Without a second thought, he scoops her up into his arms, holding her close, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Of course you can, Bug,” he murmurs, voice thick with warmth. “You’re going to be the best big sister.”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

requests are open - let’s daydream!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Birdie's Halloween

Mary Earps x Child!Reader

Summary: The fifteenth of my Halloween-centric fics

"Listen, Mum," Mary says as she weaves through the aisles of the store," I'd love to chat but I'm really quite busy right now."

"Oh yes, I'll let you get back to what you're doing," Mary's mother says on the other end of the phone," But just remember to send me her Christmas list, alright? And maybe that list of-"

"Mum," Mary says again," Seriously, I have to go."

"I know, I know but- Oh! I didn't tell you. Mrs Todds - you remember Mrs Todds, right? Anyway, Mrs Todds from next door said-"

"Mum. Me, go. Have to. Alright?"

"Oh, fine, Mary. You go. I'll call tonight. We can finish this then."

"Great," Mary mutters, looking down at her phone impassively," I'll look forward to it." She sighs, shaking her head and slipping the device back into her pocket with the startlingly discovery that she's lost you.

Again.

It's actually kind of incredible how she can lose an eight year old and her puppy in such a small store.

"Birdie!" She calls out," Birdie!"

There's no answer.

Mary sighs. "Y/n! I mean it, come here!"

Your head pops around one of the aisles and Newton's golden fur moves in speedy circles as he waits for Mary to get closer.

"You can't keep wandering off," Mary tells you, taking your hand," What happens if I lose you?"

Ever practical, you reply," Well, if I get lost then I have to go to the nearest shop worker or mother and tell them I'm lost. I have your number on my ID necklace so I get them to call that."

You beam up at her and Mary laughs despite herself.

"You know, I think Tooney was right when she called you a little smartass."

You keep beaming. "Ella's just jealous she's not as smart as me."

"But at least she knows not to wander off in a store."

"I have Newton with me."

Mary gives you a pointed look, staring down at your very dopey dog who's only now growing into his service dog vest. He's great for your emotional regulation and anticipating meltdowns but for your physical protection, not so much.

"Still," Mary says," Let's just stay close, alright?"

You huff, muttering," Just because you don't speak French," but still keep close as Mary looks through the racks of costumes.

"And you're absolutely certain you want to match?"

"Yes."

"Alright then."

It's nowhere near your first Halloween with Mary but it's your first with Newton, your adorable service pup who enjoys things like sleeping on a heated blanket and accidentally treading on his own ears.

Usually, you choose something to match with Mary but you don't want Newton to feel left out, especially because of everything he does for you.

Newton's your best friend in the whole world, even more than the horses at the barn you go to for your lessons.

So this year, you're foregoing a matching outfit with Mary in favour of one with Newton which is what led to Mary spending hours looking for a shop in Paris that sold human costumes and dog costumes.

"What about this one?"

You wrinkle your nose up at the cheap ghost costume Mary holds up for you.

"That's basic," You complain, "Newton deserves better."

Newton seems to whine in agreement, sitting up on his haunches in the same way he begs for scraps when he's off duty.

"Fine," Mary grumbles," Fine. We'll find something better."

"Newton's a gentlemen," You continue," That's why he deserves a better costume."

Mary smiles fondly as you go look through the racks yourself.

Newton whines a little ten minutes later, wedging his body between you and the costumes when he notices how distressed you're getting.

Mary notices too, guiding you away from the dog section to ones more your size.

"Let's choose yours first," She says gently," Are we going scary or cute?"

"Cute," You mumble, running your hand through Newton's soft fur.

"How about these?"

Mary lets you be for the most part, taking items off the rack to show you the choices.

"That one," You mumble, already halfway to non-verbal as you repeatedly run a hand through Newton's fur," Please."

"Good choice, Birdie," Mary says," Shall we choose one for Newton today or-?"

You nod your head, shuffling back to the dog aisle as Mary throws your Belle dress into the basket.

You rifle through the racks quickly, though one hand remains rooted around Newton's leash.

"This one?" Mary checks as you pull one out for her to take. "You're going to be Belle and Newton's going to be the Beast."

You nod.

"Good choice," She says," Let's pay for these and we'll head home. There's some chocolate milk with your name on it."

[ezekiel13]

I’ve always seen it as:

He leaves Little Lamplight a little before he turns 16- he doesn’t want to get kicked out, so he organises the next Mayor election and leaves.

He visits Big Town but doesn’t want to stay- there’s a whole world out there.

By the time he’s 16 he’s scraping for odd jobs as a mercenary and such.

After about a year of being out (so he’s like 16 and a half) he goes to the town where Lucy (who is canonically a different Lucy to the one from Little Lamplight) lives.

They have an issue with a deathclaw and a member of the town hires him to deal with it. She sees him and says she’s coming along- she’s around his age, and the daughter of the town’s teacher. She knows her way around a gun, preferring a shotgun.

The pair go and kill the Deathclaw, and after he is paid, she tells him to stay in town. They start dating and he stays there for a few months, him occasionally going to do more jobs- where the soldier lie comes from.

One night- he’s been there around 6 months now (he’s 17 and she’s newly 18 in my mind) the pair have sex, and Lucy gets pregnant. They don’t know this, but decide that they want to travel together. They have a mini wedding in the town with Lucy’s friends and family- but they’re his too now. And then they go!

They end up moving around a while before realising Lucy is pregnant- they decide that they want to settle down, and they’re near to a farm who wants some farmhands and defence- and they can do that.

Lucy gives birth while they’re there, MacCready is not quite 18. They stay for around a year, before they both get bored. They decide to stay in contact and travel a bit- the Capital Wasteland is safer now, and they’re both handy with a gun. They travel for around a year, until Lucy dies.

MacCready returns to the farm, and lives there with Duncan- but he goes and does Merc jobs also.

When MacCready is 20 (so Duncan is like 3), Duncan is playing in the garden with a dog who they own, and he is taken ill.

After no doctors working, MacCready travels for a cure, sending back letters and caps from Merc jobs to hire doctors and such.

Duncan is almost 6 by the start of Fo4, and Mac is 22

So was MacCready a teen parent? He is canonically 22 and the way he talks about Duncan makes it seem like his son is 5-8 years old, at least.

If so, that makes me so sad to imagine him and Lucy trying to raise a kid in the apocalypse, while also still being kids themselves.

[episodes-ff]

Strong Man

Happy Veterans Day, y'all! As a daughter and niece of veterans, I wanted to give you all a little treat. Especially after remembering Jacob was in fact in a military movie and Aaron plays a former military man. Also Reggie and Terry are Marine Corps men so why not have him join the fold. Enjoy!!!!

P.S. This is just a one-off where Armando always knew his father and joined the Marine Corps with his friends Terry and Reggie instead of leading the cartel...

Armando

Finishing the final strides to my barracks, I came back one last time to say goodbye to my family. "Ohhhh! He's growing so fast!" My uncle Marcus wailed sniffling into his tissue as my dad and I shook our heads. "Will you quit your nonsense, Marcus?" "I can't help it, Mike. He was just a little baby on your hip, now he's going to the Marines." He cried more and more as he suffocated me into a hug. "Don't you have your own family to say goodbye to?" I asked pointing out his daughter and wife as they hugged her boyfriend, Reggie." "Damn, Reggie! You're my nephew, man. I'm gonna miss you."

Chuckling, I hugged him before turning my attention over to my dad. "C'mere, man." He smiled on the verge of tears as he pulled me into a warm hug. "You're not turning soft on me are you, old man?" "I see you got jokes, son. This old man can still whoop yo lil Mexican ass." He chimed as we laughed together. Patting my back, he held my forehead to his and smiled. "I'm proud of you, son." "Thank you, papa. That means the world to me." Giving out all the last hugs and kisses I could afford, I dapped up Reggie before we grabbed our duffle bags and headed inside to start our new lives.

**MONTHS LATER**

Dapping up my boys, Terry and Reggie, I strapped on my gear as we chattered about our plans for the night on the way to our dorms. "So run it by me again, man? What's the plans?" "We hitting the bar on McIntosh in downtown. You in, Reggie?" "Nahhh, not tonight guys. I'm taking a visit to my lady." Reggie said holding his hands up in defense as we groaned. "Ohhhh, baby girl got you pussy whipped, huh?" Terry jibed while he nodded. "Aye, that's my wife you talking about. And yea, I like spending time with my baby." "Awwww, your babyyyy. Answer me this? When you gone make an honest woman outta Megan? It’s been long enough, bro." I said recounting when they met. "If she'll take me, hell tonight." He smirked flashing us the bright ring he had stored in his duffle. "Ohhhh shit! Now that’s what the fuck I’m talking about." Tee hooted as I smiled. "Tryna tell you young bucks, you gotta find the woman for you and her an honest one." "Young buck? Bro, we're the same age." "Hey, I'm just saying." "Whatever, man. Tell us how it goes." "Gotcha gotcha."

Throwing on my shirt, I threw on my watch and chain before hitting myself a couple times with cologne and grabbing my phone and wallet. Headed up to Terry's dorm, I sent a few raps to the door before waiting for his arrival. Watching him come out, I frowned my brows before laughing. "Bro, what the fuck do you have on?" I questioned analyzing his choice of attire. "Hey, what can I say? The ladies love coming to the gun show." He boasted pumping his swollen biceps as I shook my head. "Whatever, dickhead, let's go."

Pulling up to the club, we parked valet before heading in and taking our place at the bar. Ordering a couple beers, we waltzed over to the pool tables as we each scoped the scenery around us. Bumping my head to the music, I stopped squinting my eyes as they landed on this beautiful woman sitting at a booth with her friend. "Aye, I'll be right back." I said leaving Terry as I headed over. "I see ya, boy!" He hooted surrounded by thirsty women. Walking over, I stopped just behind her as friend looked up and smiled. "Well, hi there!" "How are you ladies tonight?" I said putting on the charm as she turned to fully face me. Gorgeous was an understatement with this one. "My name is Armando, and you are?" "My name is Laila and this is my girl, Diamonté." "Diamonté, huh? That's a very unique name." "Why thank you. I can say the same for you, Armando." "Oh can you?" I smirked eyeing her lustfully as I smoothly brought her hand up to my lips.

Terry

Watching my boy work his magic, I cheesed before bringing my attention back to the ladies surrounding me. "You said you're in the Navy, right?" "Marines, little mama." I flirted tapping her chin as she flushed red. "So is that how you got such big arms?" "Nah, I been working out long before I joined. Want me to demonstrate, baby?" Nodding nervously, I smiled a devilish grin before whisking her up into my arms and hitting some bicep curls as she giggled with her friends. Setting her down, I cheesed as they all flirtatiously offered their numbers.

Heading out of the bar with Armando in tow, we drove back up to base and signed in before heading up to our rooms for curfew. Whipping off my sweaty and smelly clothes, I tossed em in the laundry basket before taking another shower. Coming out, I let the steam wrap me in a warm embrace as I looked down at my phone to see if I had any missed notifications. Seeing none from the one girl I actually wanted to talk to, I clenched my jaw as I logged into Facebook. Smiling at the memories of old friends and family as they updated on their current lives, I tapped the search bar and smoothly typed her name. Watching her page come up at the top of the search as it always did, I tapped her profile breathing a ragged breath as an image of her with another man shadowed my view. Clearing my throat, I shook my head quickly logging out before tossing my phone to the side and laying down on my pillow. I can talk to all the girls in the world, it'll never compare to her.

Y'all the outpouring of love I've been receiving is truly heartwarming. I had truly given up on writing after the mishaps with my other stories and you guys are giving me the push to continue 🥹🥹🥹🥹

Tags (Based on interactions, if you’d like to be added or removed let me know): @violetmuses @believeinthefireflies95 @brisunique @kaylaahisthebestest- @madxlov3   @casualsludgeshoetoad @mauvecherie-writes @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theereina @kumkaniudaku @geneziesm @megamindsecretlair @simpledopeme @goldenjasssy @vivaalenaa @playgurlxoxo @ghettogirly @luuvprincess @perfectlyimperfectme @tbmotw @comfortzonequeen @melanin-honeyy @strawberrymoon45 @luckygirlszn @kindofaintrovert @secretlifeoofmarpessa @cmbmjbfan @summwerella @qdancer22 @ihateyallniggas @rebelrel0987 @x-moonchild-xxxx @1love-rere-spread-the-peace @tamyanicoleeeee @markspliers @armandosbabymama

[babyjakes]

baby barnes | homecoming.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

summary | upon returning from a small solo mission, natasha has something to give to steve.

characters | steve rogers, natasha romanoff, bucky barnes, other assorted avengers, 'baby barnes' (original character)

warnings | all warnings from the original headcanon probably apply (slightly above canon level violence, child abuse, major character death.) very angsty, steve cries a lot.

word count | 1,440

an | based on my baby barnes headcanon, with some slight changes to the universe and storyline. in this version of events, after bucky is killed, nat goes on a solo rage mission to kill everyone at the hydra facility and bring baby barnes home to steve 🩷

"Sorry. This place is a mess."

As hard as he tried, Steve just couldn't pick his gaze up off of the floor as Natasha stood there in the doorway to his living quarters. "It's okay. Things have been hard, I know." The redhead's voice seemed as though it was trying to float through a thick screen of smoke, or maybe Steve was just underwater. Maybe he had been drowning for weeks.

It was quiet as the woman entered, slipping her shoes off on the mat near the door. Steve could feel her careful eyes taking him in, assessing the damage. Every word he pulled from his throat felt like a fishing line digging right back into his burning flesh as he questioned quietly, "Would you like some tea?"

He didn't have to lift his gaze to tell that she had shaken her head. The pair moved further into the room in silent tandem, Steve leading the way over to the long beige couch. The blonde's focus was fleeting as his eyes fell on his friend's lap, before shifting over to the old photo albums on the coffee table, then to the front door, then back to his own folded hands. Natasha cleared her throat, and Steve almost found it amusing, the way she was preparing to speak like she could possibly find anything to say in that moment that would somehow make things better.

"The mission was successful," was what she finally stated, the underwhelming words drawing a knowing look onto the supersoldier's face.

He nodded, doing his best to keep things polite. It wasn't Natasha's fault that he had fallen so out of love with the world; he knew that. "I'm glad," Steve hummed, thinking back to the telephone brief he had received about the agent's assignment before it had been launched. "She's just going in to clear out a suspected outpost. Nothing major," Stark had told him. The captain didn't like sending anyone off on solo missions, but he wasn't in any state to tag along, and thankfully it didn't seem like he was needed.

Through the heavy air, Natasha took another breath before finally speaking again. "I have something to show you." Her hand slipped quietly into her pocket before appearing again, holding a small photograph by its corner. When she handed it to Steve, the man couldn't help but begin to weep.

For a moment, all he could see was the girl's tender face. The face that had haunted his dreams for the past several months, ever since that first 'baby barnes' tape had arrived in the mail. In the photo, which he held tight with both of his shaking hands, the infant's big brown eyes were looking up at something. Her cheeks were round and soft, rosy as ever. Steve couldn't help but wonder when the picture had been taken, how close it was to capturing the baby's last moments on earth before she was put to rest like her father.

Finally shifting his attention away from her angelic face, the blonde trembled as he started scanning the rest of the photo for any clues. Brow furrowing in confusion, he was immediately puzzled by the plush blanket that sat in a messy pile surrounding the baby's little bottom and legs. "What's this?" he paused quietly as he thought back through all the tapes that were permanently engraved in his memory, like an endless reel of vivid film looping across the walls of his troubled mind. Not a single one had shown the infant with any sort of blanket or covering; that would go directly against the purpose of the project. She was deprived of any warmth, human or inanimate, as a simple yet effective form of torture. The blanket in the photo simply didn't belong. Steve was absolutely sure of it.

The next indicator that something was off was the state of the baby herself. She was unusually clean, her ivory skin appearing fresh and well-kept. Her medium brown whisps of hair laid neatly over her small head, lacking the usual knots and mats that he had grown used to seeing. Swallowing hard, Steve was struggling to understand why she looked so different, almost as if someone had been caring for her for the first time in her short life.

Desperate for any sort of explanation, the captain kept studying the photo, trying to make sense of each little detail he could make out. The background itself was insignificant, just a simple wall of dark metal paneling that didn't give any insight as to where or when the picture was taken. But then, in the very corner of the photo, Steve was finally given his answer. The edge of a jacket sleeve was just barely visible against the floor, the navy fabric recognizable to him anywhere; it was Nat's, an old garment from the team's days with SHIELD. The man's breath hitched in his throat as he began to stammer.

"N-Natasha," his voice wavered. "Nat. Where... how... wh-when was this-?" Steve continued staring at the small photo, more tears building in his eyes as he choked back something between a whimper and a sob. "Wh-when did you... w-was this, were you-?"

"This morning," the agent told the supersoldier softly, reaching out to place a steadied hand over one of his shaking ones. "Bruce and I got her all cleaned up and sorted out in the med bay. She wasn't a big fan of the bath, but we got a little smile out of her when we blew bubbles with the soap." Natasha's gaze was tentative, not knowing how Steve would take the news. But as she sat there, watching the revelations sink in for her friend, she couldn't help but let slip what she had been wanting to tell him since the moment she laid eyes on the infant while breaching the lonely Siberian outpost. "After what they did to Bucky, I knew what I had to do," she said quietly. "I had to save her for you, Steve. You would've done the same for me."

All at once, Steve could feel nearly a month of tension and agony lifting from his bones as he took what seemed like his first breath since witnessing Bucky's last through a screen. If he hadn't been seated, he would've fallen to his knees right there, maybe before God or maybe before his dear friend, the one who he now understood had brought the baby back safely after an undoubtedly perilous mission. The baby, the baby, the baby... that was all the captain's mind could hold onto as he sat there, clutching her photo as if both of their lives depended on it. She was alive, she was safe. And she had been brought home to him.

"Natasha," Steve choked out the young woman's name through tears, his voice like warm hands cradling their years of partner and friendship. There was something so unspeakably profound about the endless ways they were willing to live and die for each other; neither of the two could put it into words, but the feeling was certainly present all around as they sat there in the man's small living room, holding onto each other in a moment of shared silence. The gravity of Nat's actions was quick to settle in, and the significance of what she had done- all on her own, without being asked- was nearly unbearable to Steve. "Y-you went... all on your own? You could've-"

"I had to, Steve," Nat cut him off gently, her certainty on the matter unmistakable as it flashed across her face. "You were in no condition to fight, and the others would've only been in the way." As much as he didn't like what he was being told, Steve knew it was the truth. Things had gotten bad for Nat after Bucky's final tape; her decline was much more subtle than that of the captive's best friend, though he was still quick to notice it. It was only his nature. Now Steve understood that when she went dark like that, little could come between the agent and what she set out to do. As much as it worried him sick, that worry couldn't quite outdo the larger sense of relief that was flowing through him like water.

Steve's gaze drifted back to the tiny girl sat posing in the photo, another wave of grief washing over him as he saw a shadow of his late friend gazing back at him through those familiar brown eyes. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, Natasha finally made the proposition, "Whenever you're ready, I'll take you to see her."

[kinghijinx22]

Why Silent Hill 3 is my big favorite- a terrifying horror game about woman's experiences and the fears that come from existing as a woman in a patriarchal society

Silent Hill 3 is probably my favorite Silent Hill game and one of my favorite games of all time, and it has a story and themes that I've always really vibed with. It tells a remarkably progressive story for it's time that handles some intense themes that are still relevant even today, about experiences that a lot of woman go through and the fears that come from existing as a woman in a patriarchal society, what it's like having your own agency and bodily autonomy taken away from you, forced pregnancy and sexual assault, how harmful patriarchal societies are and this game really getting into the religious flavor of patriarchy in particular.

It's an incredibly scary game that uses a feminine sort of horror to great effect, with the design of the other world being as bloody as it is and the monster designs being representative of this. I mean there is a type of creature that are literally supposed to look like fetuses that start getting bigger throughout the game as the birth of God draws near and the giant worm boss for lack of a better way of putting, literally being a giant penis. I think the main complaint that I hear from people about this game is how slow the story is in the first half of the game, but I think the whole getting home late at night as a young woman contributes a lot to what this game is saying. And I absolutely love how this game ends with Heather literally aborting God and fighting it as the final boss, symbolizing her fully taking control of her life and rejecting all of the harmful expectations that were forced onto her. Main antagonist Claudia is such a tragic character though, someone who was so brainwashed by town's religion into think that someone HAS to give birth to God so hard that she did it herself and she suffered for it.

Also while not as intentional considering when it was written and they probably couldn't even write about this stuff if they wanted to, something that I think is worth noting is that I've heard from a lot of trans people who relate to this game as well and I can really see it. Considering it's about people who Heather knows from a past life, coming back to remind her of that past life and forcing it onto her, and Claudia referring to Heather as Alessa could be interpreted as deadnaming Heather. But yeah I've always really loved and connected with this game for how well it handles it's themes about woman's experiences and I think it's really cool how many trans people have been able to relate to it with those specific experiences as well.

Another of my favorite things about Silent Hill 3 is the main character Heather, because she really is one of the coolest characters that I've always really related to. Her struggles are incredibly relatable, but she's also inspiring in how she overcomes them and is always so confident. In fact I appreciate how her and her father subvert societal gender roles in opposite directions, with Heather being as confident and extroverted as she is, probably more then any other Silent Hill protagonist and willing to stand up to all of the men in the story like Douglas in the beginning, Vincent and Leonard, along with all of the monsters she has to fight. And Harry being a single parent who is as gentle and caring as he is, with his one track mind of looking as his daughter, he's kind of both a father and a mother in that way, and also being as physically weak as he is and the opposite of a action hero. She also easily has the most personality of any Silent Hill protagonist, like this girl is overflowing with charisma and is even a little jokey. In fact another detail that I like is how much personality comes through in her examine dialogue, where you actually get to hear her thoughts on everything instead of just basic observation "this is a thing" that the other games in the series do. Heather has opinions on everything, but how she's feeling throughout the game is also conveyed. The dialogue of her observations in the first half of the game has a much more playful and hopeful tone to it, but after Harry dies she becomes much more pessimistic, can only see the negatives in everything and just doesn't seem to care anymore.

Heather is an incredibly well written and nuanced character, and I'll be honest that this is the game I least want to see be remade because I know that they would find a way to fuck up the writing of her character and handling of the themes of this game. Even after the Silent Hill 2 remake being as good as it is, one of Blooperteams biggest flaws is being incapable of handling anything to do with woman's experiences or perspective. SH2 used to be my fav, but I came to realize that it was mostly just because it was the popular one and that I vibe a lot more with SH3 and 4. Especially because SH2 tells a story about misogyny but makes it all about the perpetrator rather then the victim, unlike Silent Hill 3 which does actually tell the story of someone on the receiving end of that type of violence and objectification. SH3 and 4 are my personal favorites, 3 because Heather is best protagonist and I really appreciate it's themes which are handled perfectly, and SH4 because it has a really cool narrative and horror concepts. I know opinions on SH4 are really split, and while I think there are some gameplay things that are jank, I love it's story and premise so much.

[arcane-ish]

Rambling thoughts on Cait's storyline

I thought about doing like an exhaustive analysis of Cait's story in s2Act1 with like pictures and stuff as example. But then I got lazy. I will try to focus on some short notes.

1.) I don't get the vibe that Cait is being manipulative when she pulls away from Vi's touch. I think she's genuinely torn. I can't quite decide whether she's fighting her rising anti-Zaunite rage or on some level realizes what a mess she is and that going for it with Vi right now would be a bad idea. But I don't think she is angling for anything like that, imo she's just struggling with her own emotions. Sidenote: I think it's worth nothing how it mirrors the face touching that Jayce does to Mel.

2.) However, I totally get manipulative vibes from the whole "Cait sang Vi's praises to the enforcers and then her future team member just shows up at Vi's to tell her this". Like either Cait was setting up Vi to join the force (by giving a speech to the enforcers and threatening them with withdrawing funding) without actually asking Vi and/or she sent the enforcer girl to find Vi and tell her that. I dunno, there's just something odd about Caitlyn's multi-cultural task force just coming together like that.

3.) I complained in regards to Jayce's storyline that he is in multiple storylines that don't feel quite connected. And how he moves from one story to the next makes it seem like he doesn't actually care all that much. If I think about it, Caitlyn and Vi are strictly speaking in multiple stories as well (ie apprehending Jinx, Hextech, Ambessa's schemes). But they are getting the royal treatment. It doesn't feel like they are in distinct storythreads because the show connects them. These stories when they are in them still feel like they are fundamentally about Vi and Cait. Because of that it doesn't feel like they are in multiple stories, it's one big ball of story mud of Caitlyn and Vi. Jinx comments on Vi being sweet on Caitlyn. Mel tells Jayce to check on Caitlyn which gives her a chance to talk about Vi, Ambessa's schemes in regards to Caitlyn are meaningful also in part because they might affect how Vi feels about Cait and how likely they are to reunite.

Notice how when Heimer introduces Ekko and Jayce to each other, he doesn't ask what happened to Viktor? Even though that would make sense for his character and would give Jayce a way to voice his theory on why Viktor left and where he is now?

But it never comes up. Because Jayce, Viktor etc are firmly a B story and a result their fates and feelings don't matter to the other characters as much (and in turn means that the characters themselves feel like they don't care as much, while you can't get very far without having it pointed out to you that Vi matters to Cait and vice versa).

4.) I think the scene between Cait and Vi at the pond is intensely interesting. Because Cait says there's three faces she keeps seeing. her mom, Jinx and Vi. Her mom and Jinx are illustrated with a visual, but Vi isn't.

We don't get shown what Vi looks like in Cait's mind. Maybe we can infer that it's like in the beginning, where her world is in black and white and only Vi is in color.

But why not show us? In her visions of her, is Vi smiling? Being a steady rock? Looking at her with concern?

When she talks about her visions of Cassandra and Jinx, she speaks in detail how those make her feel. But with Vi she doesn't. We just have the tone of her voice to infer, but she does not say.

5.) I think it's very telling why Cait wants Vi to come along. Like there are clear tactical advantages to having a Zaunite guide while fighting in Zaun. Vi points this out and as Sevika points out when talking to the barons. But imo Cait asks Vi to come because she feels herself slipping.

She wants Vi to hold her back. Which from a relationship point of view, is kind of shitty, to pick somebody else and try to make them responsible for you not going evil.

(an interesting wrinkle is that when Caitlyn asks why she is indicating that she is scared if she goes after Jinx "one of them will end up in a box", indicating she doesn't want to kill Jinx, but Vi comes to quickly assure Caitlyn that she would be okay with Cait taking the shot on Jinx)

6.) Imo it's interesting that before they kiss Vi essentially tells Cait that she feels like she has nobody left.

And in the beginning it's like Cait also feels like Vi is the only thing that she has left, the only thing that is real.

When even her father is grey and doesn't feel real to her. Except it's not true. Even if Vi is important to her, Caitlyn has people. She has like three different people other than Vi try to reach out and give her comfort.

And that is on top of just via her position in society she has this whole apparatus behind and under her, the enforcers, the council. While Vi has dead siblings, dead parents, dead foster father (to her knowledge), no status within Zaun's society/nobody who cares what decisions she will make, a sister she considers dead and had a falling out with, no friends it seems left back in Zaun (either she never had any of her absence was too long) and for whatever reason she doesn't consider Ekko to be meaningful (maybe their relationship was just to casual, maybe she thinks he will judge her for working with the enforcers, maybe she is too self-hate-y to think she belongs there).

[carrottheluvmachine]

Help me move to Scotland to be with the one I love

Hello, my name is Colie and I'm trying to raise the money needed to be able to apply for a partner visa to go and live with my girlfriend in Scotland.

3 years ago, my life was in a hellish place. My step-dad, the greatest person I have ever known, was diagnosed with cancer and put on hospice care. He took me in when I had to leave my old life behind me; when I lost my home in New York and had no where else to turn to. He accepted my 3 elderly cats and cared for them like they were his own. Although he came into my life late, he acted as a father and a friend to me.

In August of 2021, right as my step-dad was diagnosed, I met the love of my life. I wasn't looking for love. I was searching for a writing partner and she came along. 2 weeks later, I told her I thought I might be in love with her, and to my surprise she said she felt the same way.

Steph was there for me as my step-dad grew weaker and weaker. She was the first person I told the morning when he passed away. I helped my mother care for him in his last days. I listened obsessively at the wall between our bedrooms for his last breaths. To this day, I still refuse to go into the spare bedroom where he passed away. I am traumatized, I am broken, but to Steph I am so much more. She was there for me to lean on whenever I needed her. She cheered me up with her silly puns. She made me smile and she reassured me that I was worth loving.

My life has never been easy, but the easiest thing in it has always been Steph. I knew right away that I loved her. I admired her from the first moment I met her. She stuck by my side despite my disabilities, despite my losses, despite my will to end it all.

I have severe anxiety, depression, and bipolar disorder. Because of this, it has never been easy for me to keep down a job. Because I have never been able to hold down a job, I have been living off the good graces of others and cannot afford therapy. Only recently did I find a way to receive remote therapy and I'm working to improve myself.

I have lived a sheltered life since moving down here to Florida. I lost everything I ever knew in New York. I have seen family members only a handful of times in the past 11 years, and I haven't visited any of my friends since. I have lost touch with the people I called my friends back home, and I haven't been able to make new friends down here.

It's a different world here, and I am very fearful as a gay person in a red state. I do not tell anyone that I'm gay because I fear for my life here. Especially after the 2024 election results.

I have become a recluse who has nothing but her online friends, her mother, and her cats. The one shining light in all of my life has been Steph. We were able to meet in the summer of 2023 and I flew to Scotland to be with her. For the first time in my life, I was living and doing what I wanted to do. I was happy. I smiled every single day. I was traveling outside and seeing things I've never seen before, all with the person I loved most in the world. At the end of my trip, Steph turned to me and said "So, what do you think about living here?" and I swear to you, I've never smiled brighter.

The reason I have started this campaign is because of the financial requirements to obtain a visa to move to the UK. The financial requirement is £29k, which is roughly $37k USD. Steph just graduated from university with a degree in screenwriting, but she has yet to find a job in her field. For the time being, she's working in childcare, which she also has a degree in, but it does not make the kind of money needed to sponsor me for a visa.

Our choices were either to make the 29k annually, or to have 31k in savings (equating roughly to 39k USD) so that I could apply for a visa stay support both of us for 2 years before I would have to apply again. Unfortunately, the income earned cannot be combined with any savings to meet the financial requirement. The requirement also does not allow me to contribute with a US income, as the person who is responsible for sponsoring me has to be the one earning the money because I won't be able to work in the UK until I have a spouse visa.

It is incredibly difficult not seeing the one you love day in and day out. My life has never been easy, as I said before, but I feel as if it has been put on pause ever since I was forced out of my home to come and live in Florida. I haven't been living, I have been surviving.

I want to live again, and I want to live with the girl I love.

Please, if you can, donate. Even if it's just a dollar, anything helps. Please help my dreams come true.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

~Colie

Link to gofundme

If you could reblog this post, I would greatly appreciate it!

[yanderes-galore]

50.) "If it means both of us must perish, so be it!" With a yandere Kaido who threatens his forced wife reader , that if his time has come he’s dragging her along with him , please if this request makes you uncomfortable you can delete this no worries;)

Sure! I'm sorry if this is short or not entirely accurate... I haven't actually seen his arc yet but I really like his character!

Yandere! Kaido Prompt 50

"If it means both of us must perish, so be it!"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Suicidal behavior (Kaido), Murder, Blood, Kidnapping, You want him dead, Heavy drinking, Forced marriage/relationship.

In the time you've known Kaido... you've learned his nature well. You know him and his title... a force to be reckoned with. He's the world's strongest creature, and Emperor of The Sea...

He's a powerful being driven by war... it defines him... the power is like a drug to him...

Yet such a beast feels oddly... leashed to you, a mere human.

You knew Kaido as your captor. To you, that's all he ever was. No matter how many times Kaido would call himself your husband... He was really just your captor.

You were forced to play his wife, living in Onigashima in Wano Country. You don't typically be affectionate to the beast who calls himself your husband. Yet you also know not to fight him when he requests attention from his wife.

You learned of his habits through watching him. It's the only thing that you felt you could bring yourself to do other than seeing Kaido slaughter those around him. You didn't like to think about that.

Kaido adores war and fights, he often spoke about honor on the battlefield to you. As his wife, you quietly listened as he rambled, no doubt drunk on some alcoholic substance. You knew he loved his alcohol just as much as he adored fighting... and you, apparently.

Another thing you noted was Kaido's... wish for death. That was another thing he rambled about endlessly to you. He spoke fondly of war, violence, and the glory that comes from dying in battle.

These conversations were normal between you and Kaido. He's a warmongering emperor who does anything for battle. Him talking about dying was... oddly common and normal when it came to him specifically.

As his wife you also knew of Kaido's attempts on his own life. Due to being a nearly indestructible beast, said attempts never succeed. However, part of you always seems to hope they will.

Mostly so you can be let out of this hell.

Kaido's obsession with death never really concerned you at this point. He's been like this since your capture years ago. You used to be part of a crew...

Now you're meant to be a beast's plaything, it seems.

You've grown used to your prayers not being answered when Kaido comes back to you. Sometimes you just wish someone strong enough will do the deed already. That way you both get what you want...

Kaido gets his glory and you get your freedom.

Until then, you're forced to sit on him while he drowns himself in his alcohol. You can only listen to his talks about idolizing death and dream of it. Not for you...

Just him.

Although, as time went on, his ramblings changed... and it scared you.

Kaido starts rambling about you. At first it's all strange compliments and pet names. He calls you his pretty little wife... his little mouse and toy. He talks about loving and keeping you forever, laughing as he holds you while you stay silent.

Then he brings up dying again... This time together.

He fantasizes about it despite your sudden tense expression. He gleefully rambles about glory, but this time with you by his side. He tells you that you're his, that he can't leave you all alone...

He tells you that if... when you two die together...

It will complete you both.

You were used to him keeping his death fantasy to himself. But now he seemed too... connected with you to let you go. He tells you that you two will only ever truly be perfect when you die together.

He brings it up more and more and it only makes you more concerned. After all... this is a sudden switch. You really don't have an escape now... do you?

You often think of Kaido's words now... His dark fantasies and delusional ramblings...

You only ever seem to think of them more often once he calls war on those Straw Hat pirates.

"It will be a glorious fight!" Kaido calls to you in your home, an excited grin on his face. You've rarely seen him grin.

"I haven't had a strong opponent in a long time, my love..." Kaido growls, eyes staring down at your smaller form. "I want you there for it."

You freeze when Kaido picks you up like a doll, his grin haunting.

"I want you to witness our greatness! I want you to be there encouraging me! You are my wife, mine forever... You will witness glory, my dearest..."

You then feel Kaido squeeze you a bit, making you feel nauseous as you realize what all of this means...

"I plan to experience glory, my love... I need to feel complete with you." Kaido admits, a large finger running down your back.

There's a momentary silence as Kaido stares down at you, seemingly contemplating something. You can't seem to find the air to breathe when he looks down at you. This is it... isn't it?

"If it means both of us must perish, so be it!" Kaido suddenly roars in laughter, holding you against his chest as he begins to leave your home.

You're shaking but Kaido only seems to find it amusing. He keeps you close, making his way to his newest battlefield. This felt like your Judgement Day...

Today, you die.

"Do not be so fearful..." Kaido suddenly scoffs, eyes looking down at you.

"You should be looking forward to this, wife... Today, we experience greatness! We experience glory and completion..."

Kaido then pulls you up to his face, a sinister grin on his face.

"I want you by my side when I die..." Kaido tightens his grip, glaring as he notices your nervous behavior. "You won't run, you will obey your husband. Today... You and I will be complete..."

You then feel him apply pressure to your midsection, a warning and order that forces you into desperate compliance.

Kaido makes one more roaring laughter as he continues to carry you...

"Today... We die together... Now and forever, you are mine and mine alone."