#i think its so easy to be smug about these things and especially in the fashion that florida has won it

[ratatatastic]

"How are ya, buddy?" "Good, good. How are you?" "You're good? You should be good!" "You should be good!" "Look at you, man! A champion! This is—first of all, congratulations! Let's just start off there, man. This has been an incredible journey for you but—how does it feel? Like to reach the mountaintop, and get to where you were—what was this summer like for you? For all the work that you put in that had to feel incredible!" "Well, first of all, thank you for the—congratulating me. Uh, yeah, that's... you know the moment we won the cup is already in the past. It's been long time ago, I feel like. And the biggest emotions was right after we finished the game, and the first lift of the Cup. That was—those moments I can't even describe. It's just... even though lifting the Cup—I saw that so many times in my realisations but it's still incredible so I can't describe that." "Was it—like, did you have images that ran in your head? Was it all the work you put in? Do you look for your family? What went through your moment when you got the cup in your hands?" "It's actually—the moment you get the cup in your hands and lifting... It was like very slowed down moment. You know I tried to almost like enjoy that moment as much as possible because I know how much work it requires to get to that point... and how many things have to come together. It's not only in your control, it also has to be whole—lots of little things has to come together."

Tobin & Leroy Show | 9.18.24 (x)

nothing ever prepares me for what comes out of bobbys mouth especially when he starts to humble himself. its an absolute artform to stay so present and not be caught up in the grandness of it all and i just love this guy a lot you know?

[wriokitty]

“What’s got you so grumpy?”

Sukuna dodges your finger. It fails to meet its destination of his cheek as he tilts his head to the side, earning a frown from you before you huff and try again.

He looks up from his phone with an irritated glance when your fingertip digs into his face.

“What are you talking about?” He grunts.

He knows exactly what you’re talking about. Normal Sukuna is irritable enough—grumpy Sukuna is about as bad tempered as a hornet who’s had its nest kicked. (Which is to say: he’s pretty fucking unfriendly at the moment.)

“You’re sulking,” you point out—and that statement earns a sharp glare from him as you seat yourself on his lap. (Still, he makes room easily for you, leaning back on the couch and putting his phone down to the side so his hands can rest on your hips. Grumpy Sukuna is never grumpy enough to push your body away—if anything, it’s the one way to get him less agitated).

“I’m not fucking sulking,” he says. It’s almost petulant, but you have enough grace to spare his dignity and not point it out. “I don’t sulk.”

“Are you sure?” You raise a disbelieving brow—he clicks his teeth at the way you choose to question him, but it softens considerably when your lips peck his jaw delicately. “You look pretty sulky to me.”

“Get your eyes checked.”

“Can’t. Then I might see you for all your ugliness. We wouldn’t want to throw years down the drain once I come to my senses do we?”

It’s his turn to raise a brow, sarcastically snorting as you give him a cheeky wink. “If you wanna try ‘n be a smart ass, at least be realistic about it. Saw you checking me out just this morning through the mirror.”

“Maybe you need your eyes checked,” you huff, “I was not checking you out.”

“Pretty sure you were,” he smirks, lips pulling into a haughty grin. Getting under your skin with his smugness is about the only way to cheer him up, it seems, because he looks rather pleased when he adds, “it’s okay. Don’t blame ya for bein’ possessed by my impressive physique.”

“Too bad your personality isn’t as dazzling,” you quip back easily.

It’s meant to be lighthearted, of course—but it seems to be the wrong thing to say. Quite wrong, in fact, because as soon as the words escape you, he tenses before locking his jaw.

There’s a flash of something in his eyes. Something you don’t think you’ve ever seen in Sukuna’s face—doubt. It’s a little odd, in all realness. Sukuna is not a doubtful person. He’s confident, and he’s confident enough that it’s almost to a fault. He’s cocky and smug and sometimes a little too self-assured for it to be considered good for his health.

It’s a bit unsettling to see his face almost fall at something you say, especially when you just say it for the sake of light banter.

“Yeah?” He chuckles dryly. It sounds dangerously self-deprecating—enough that it makes you frown. “Good thing I have my abs to keep you glued to my side then, huh?”

“Well, it’s not just your abs,” you hum, one hand smoothing over his shirt to feel the ridges of his muscles through the shirt. “Your boobs are pretty great, too.”

To prove your point, you give his left pectoral a gentle squeeze. He scowls before shoving your hand away as blush creeps along the back of his neck.

“You fucking freak,” he mutters.

Something is bothering him. You know you can’t directly ask it out of him, otherwise he’ll deny it left and right, but something is bothering him. Sukuna is not good with words or emotions. In fact, he’s pretty awful at anything that has to do with anyone’s feelings. (He’s better about yours more than other’s, but he’s pretty far from good.)

You don’t mind. There’s something oddly charming about witnessing the way he navigates softening up for you—it’s like watching a baby take their first steps. Wobbly. Slow. Unsure. Pretty badly executed, but endearingly rewarding all at the same.

Except, this time, it’s not your emotions he’s navigating. For some reason, yours are easy than his own. Navigating yours means he doesn’t have to try. He knows you better than he knows himself. Knows when your feelings are hurt by the twitch of your brows alone. Knows you’re sad by the dimness in your eyes. Knows you’re pretending joy when your laugh is quieter than usual. Knows you’re faking it when your smile is a much more tight lipped and a less bright version.

But his own feelings are complicated. A lot more than he cares to try and understand them for. In true Sukuna fashion, he always aims to ignore his problems until they seemingly disappear.

But you’re too difficult to let that slide. He brushes things under the rug, and you pull the rug from under his feet and make him fall face first into his problems.

“Hey,” you nudge him, cupping his face with your hand gently, “what’s gotten into you? It’s weird when you’re not pissing me off a couple of times every hour.”

“And that’s supposed to be a good thing?” He challenges, like your words seem to tick him off more, “what are you sittin’ here for if I’m always pissing you off?”

Oh, you think. So that’s what it is.

You smile, humming before you gently tilt his face up. Something vulnerable is attached to that frown of his. Like he’s waiting for your answer because he needs something to hold onto. Some metaphorical lifeline where your feelings are attached to his own, just to keep you chained together. Where you’re always somewhere that he also is. Where he doesn’t have to care about his emotions because what you feel is what he feels, too, and as long as you’re okay, so is he.

But you care. You seem to care a pretty great deal because you lean in and brush your nose against his as you kiss his lips softly.

“Who cares if you piss me off?” You snort, “I piss you off better. I’m pretty good at it.”

“You are,” he agrees instantly.

You give him a fleeting huff against his mouth as you mumble, “you don’t have to agree so fast.”

It pulls a small laugh from him, making his arms snake around your waist and tug your body closer. Chest to chest, heartbeat thumping in two, synchronized rhythms.

“What happens when I’m all old and expiring and my abs are gone?” He raises a brow. You hum, stroking a thumb along his cheek as you smile and admire him.

“We’ll still be pissing each other off, I bet.”

“That’s supposed to be good?” He repeats, this time much more unsure. Anyone else could hardly catch the air of hesitance in his words, but you catch it instantly.

“Why not?” You shrug, “it always worked for us, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “that’s until it doesn’t.” He spits the words out, not meeting your eyes. It’s like they taste acrid is mouth and he can’t bring himself swallow them down.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you lean in and just press a line of kisses from his chin to the corner of his lips, purposely dodging his mouth and littering small, delicate pecks along his cheek. And then his forehead. And then the bridge of his nose.

Never his lips, though. And he gets increasingly frustrated by it.

“What are you waiting for?” He grumbles, eyeing you with a look that screams: quit fucking around.

You fight back an amused smile. “Does it piss you off?”

“Course it does. Kiss me properly or back off my face—”

“Cause you love me right?” You ask cheekily. He pauses, thinking on it for a moment before slumping wearily.

“And if I do?”

“You piss me off too. Because I love you too,” you whisper, forehead against his as your hands cradle his cheeks. Because you do.

When he texts late, and makes your blood boil, it’s only because you love him. When he’s brutally honest and doesn’t say what you want to hear, you’re only mad because you care what he thinks so much. When he’s stubborn and refuses to meet you halfway, you’re only angry because there’s no one else you’d rather cross the bridge with than him.

He pisses you off. You care enough to be pissed because it’s him. And when you piss him off too, he cares enough to deal with it because it’s you.

It’s a funny, twisted little way to love and be loved, but it works. For some odd reason, it does. It’s a seamless, smooth, crackless road.

You don’t ever fix something that’s not broken.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he sighs, resigning himself to your weird, roundabout explanation. You laugh, pinching his cheek as you grin brightly.

“That’s because you’re a bit dim.”

“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes, “okay. Anything else?”

“Yeah, actually. I love you.”

He pauses. Swallows for a moment before his arms tighten their grip on your hips just a smidge before burying his face into your neck and mumbling, “me too. Love you so much, it pisses me off.”

“I like to get under your skin like that,” you stroke his hair, beaming as you add, “guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

His lips stretch into a small grin before a low, rumbling chuckle breathes itself against your skin. “Guess so.”

————————

a/n: insecure modern! au sukuna who doesn’t admit it and refuses to acknowledge that he’s aware he’s difficult to love and can’t understand why you love him but he also doesn’t want to question it for fear of scaring you away is very near and dear to me and i’ll be talking about it from my grave still. you’ll just hear my ghostly voice spooking you through the night talking about how he’s a softie deep down under all the layers. like an ogre okay? ogres have LAYERS.

[mameillieureennemie]

i wanted to write more co-workers!vi x f!reader who "hate" each other but make it r rated. :) 18+, minors do not interact or else 🫵🏾

You don't know what came over you; you're usually not this easy to push around.

But Vi's doe eyes trapped you, drawing you in along with the warmth of her hands, and temptation is a very hard thing to resist.

Especially when temptation is pushing you into a supply closet and up against a wall. Especially when temptation is sinking her teeth into your neck, hellbent on leaving her mark on you. Especially when temptation swallows your moans with her mouth, kissing long and deep until you're dazed and breathless.

Temptation is so hard to resist, especially if its name is Violet.

"Vi, you need to—" You're cut short by deft fingers pushing your skirt up to your waist. Then they're fiddling with the waistband of your panties, pulling at the elastic before slipping behind it. You bite your bottom lip hard when you feel a familiar brush against your swollen clit. "You can't—"

Vi shushes you, already rubbing dizzying circles against your clit. The tempo is nice and slow, but the sensation has you shaking, clenching your thighs around her hand. "It's okay," she assures you quietly, still imprinting the marks of her teeth into your skin. "As long as you aren't loud, no one will hear us."

You attempt a scoff, but it's shaky, verging on breathy. "And why would I be the prob—fuck," you gasp, body curling in as Vi slides a finger into your already slick cunt. "Oh."

"You were saying?" Vi murmurs, now at your ear, and you should be infuriates at how smug she sounds, but damn it, it sounds hot. You whimper as Vi slowly starts to fuck you, her thumb still rubbing those dizzing circles against your throbbing clit. It's immediately a lot; the combination of her finger hitting that sweet spot along with the added stimulation to your clit...

Soon enough, you're quivering in her arms, mouth agape as a line of drool escapes from one side. Your nails dig into her biceps, unable to fully sink into that dense muscle through the material of her blazer. You can do nothing but release choked up whines, eyes gazing at an equally dazed Vi, unfocused as she bullies another finger into you.

It's still slow, but it's deeper as Vi wraps her other arm around your waist to pull you closer. You allow it, still clinging onto her and yanking her in because you want to kiss her—you need to kiss her.

And she lets you, moaning greedily into your mouth as she starts to fuck you faster. Fast enough that the slick noises of your cunt fill the small room, loud and messy and—

"Have you seen her and Vi?" Someone from outside the supply closet suddenly say, making your eyes widen and regain focus. The pleasure is still there, but panic is brought to the forefront at the risk of being discovered.

"Vi," you start, going to push at her, but Vi's grip is strong on you. She's even tightened it, not allowing you to escape, as she buries her head into your shoulder. "Vi, they'll hear us."

"Then stay quiet," is all you hear before Vi's pulling her fingers out from your pussy and stuffing them in your mouth. You immediately shudder when your taste explodes across your tongue and only sink further when Vi roughly slides her thigh between your legs...

And shoves it up against your cunt, making your eyes roll back and your mouth go lax around her fingers.

Oh.

"Good girl," Vi growls, loud enough for you to hear. "So sweet and soft for me. Allowing me to fuck her right here like a filthy—"

"Do you think they went out of lunch?" You dimly hear someone else say, but you're too far gone. In too deep as Vi fucks you on her thigh, surely soaking her slacks right down to the skin.

"Oh I doubt it," the first person says, laughing at the moment Vi pulls back from your shoulder, staring you down with lust-filled eyes and crimson cheeks. The sight of her enough to have you pulling her back in, mouths crashing together once more.

You feel yourself about to come, feel the thread about to snap—

"They hate each other."

Your vision goes white.

[kirschteinoir]

twelve minutes.

zayne (love&deepspace) x reader.

❝ seeing both of your eyes at the same time shouldn't be this attractive... ❞

zayne is uncharacteristically late and you're not pleased, but the reason why definitely makes up for it.

wc; 1.8k

[zayne forehead zayne forehead zayne forehead...inspired by this gorgeous art by sesamefruit on twt / X!!! i haven't stopped thinking about it since i saw it like UGH HE LOOKS SO SCRUMPTIOUS!!! implied suggestive stuff towards the end bc i couldn't help myself so 17+ please! ]

he was late.

zayne was never late. in fact a small but prominent part of his personality was that he was always on time - something he was so fond of reminding you about every time you happened to arrive a minute or two after him to your scheduled date. you sort of understood him though; his job was a harsh reminder that time waits for no one, especially a cardiac surgeon hours into a surgery with a life on the line.

your eyes dart to the giant clock ticking warily above you in the ballroom, its ornate hands and roman numerals mocking you as you stood in the corner with half a glass of champagne in your hand.

it had occurred to you to perhaps text him, although you pulled a face at the thought of being too clingy or rushing him. you trusted zayne and you knew he wouldn't be late without a good reason - you just hoped that he knew what he was doing by showing up almost fifteen minutes after your agreed meet time.

tonight was a charity gala, or something like that, hosted by akso hospital to raise funds for various wards, ones you hadn't even heard of before. the bulk of the guestlist included important patrons of the hospital who most likely had relatives in akso’s care, all of the most significant hospital staff and whoever they brought as a plus one - which is the category you and zayne fall into, respectively.

despite being a guest on zayne’s behalf, the two of you had arrived in separate cars. this was not something you had initially agreed to as the image of showing up on zayne’s arm with both of you dressed to the nines had been all too alluring and a small, smug part of you had wanted to show him off to everyone in attendance. but as always, zayne's work had shattered your grandiose dream and thus he couldn't make it on time to pick you up; he'd paid for your taxi to the venue though, and tracked your location on an app to make sure you arrived safely.

apart from a sending you a happy snowman emote at your arrival to the gala's location, he hadn’t given you any indication of when he would show up. you think back to his text from earlier this afternoon, scrunching your nose slightly as you recall how he'd said that he would definitely be there in time for dessert - his attempt at humour, you supposed.

so here you are, waiting nervously amongst the growing crowd with a watchful eye on the entrance. many of zayne’s colleagues had already arrived and greeted you with a sympathetic look as they knew all too well how busy the schedule of the cardiac surgeon could be. you took their pitiful gazes in your stride, assuring them with an easy-going laugh that he would be here soon. you hoped you sounded more convinced than you felt as an ugly apprehension gnawed at your stomach at the thought of zayne standing you up tonight.

oh well, at least you looked good.

throwing caution to the wind you swallow the last of your champagne with a slight pained expression and discreetly whip out your phone. your fingers find his contact reflexively and are about to hit the 'call' button when suddenly a hushed whisper sweeps through the room like a blizzard and your curiosity is piqued for a moment. the only thing that stops you from going through with the call is the sound of zayne's name rippling through the crowd and then the placid lilt of his voice that you knew so well.

zayne was finally here!

_

an hour or so ago, zayne had been stood in front of his bathroom mirror, his usually composed visage marred by a troubled expression. remnants of his steamy shower clouds the glass and his deep sigh adds to the frostiness as he continues to stare at himself in discontent.

he was already dressed for the evening, his shirt sleeves cuffed and tie clipped, but had yet to style his hair. usually, it would be the easiest part of his routine as he doesn't stray much from his signature windswept fringe. something was different today though and maybe out of the sudden urge to surprise you, he itched for something new. he was nervous as he weighed out the potential cons - what if it didn't suit him? what if you didn’t like it? what if he stuck out too much? was a fancy gala really the best time and place to experiment with his appearance?

as much as he was nervous, he was also tired of looking the same every time you saw him. well, except for when he was fresh out the shower and his hair was damp, but it was still relatively similar to his daytime look...

zayne looks at the short video tutorial on his phone again, replaying it a second time for good measure. the tub of gel was as daunting as his surgical scalpels as he carefully unscrewed the lid. he pauses the video on a particular shot of the final styled product, tentative fingers dipping into the cool gel.

he ended up leaving the house twelve whole minutes later than he had expected and his slight rushing had caused a few strands to break free from their gelled confines already - he thought it would at least hold until the first course of the evening. he was late enough as it was and didn't want to push it by continuing to style it in his parked car, knowing that you were probably growing restless as you waited for him inside.

_

you peer through the crowd that seems to have coagulated at the entrance of the grand hall, wishing you were just that bit taller so you could catch zayne’s eye and let him know where you were.

“excuse me,” you mumble to no one in particular as you push through, side-stepping and shimmying your way to your date. a few of them grumble at your forcefulness and you mentally apologise, only thinking of zayne at the moment.

“has anyone seen- ah, never mind.”

you hear zayne approach before you see him, the timbre of his voice suddenly swirling in a comforting embrace around your ears.

the first thing you're met with is his expensive suit, the woven navy fibres filling your field of vision. you stumble back a little, afraid of bumping into him, and take in his appearance properly. he was wearing a classic three-piece, navy with a black waistcoat, and you remember that you picked it out for him on your last shopping date. at the time he had seemed indifferent to your choices, but your cheeks suddenly feel warm as you realise right there and then how much zayne really likes you.

“zayne, there you are! i-“ you begin, looking up at him with a smile.

expecting to see pear green eyes hidden by a gauze of black fringe, you're shocked when instead those same eyes are crystalline and unobstructed as they regard you with an amused expression, perfectly poised underneath an arched black eyebrow.

the soft skin of his forehead, which you had often traversed with your fingertips on countless sleepy nights, was now exposed to the warm glow of the ballroom. his fringe, which so often tickled your cheek as he burrowed into the crook of your neck, exhausted after an overnight surgery, was gelled neatly back. some rogue strands still burst forward, daring to defy zayne's signature put-togetherness, but even they looked purposefully rogue and elegantly styled to suit his new look.

you could do nothing more than gape at him dumbly as he became increasingly concerned at your lack of response. he'd been fraught with worry about your reaction to his tardiness, expecting to get chewed out for being so ungentlemanly as to leave you standing alone in a room full of his colleagues that you hardly knew. but he surmises quickly that it was all worth it as he takes in your dumbfounded expression; he has to hold back a chuckle at the way you not so subtly check him out. however you aren’t the only one who’s doing so in the room, and he softly clears his throat to bring you away from your thoughts for a moment.

“here i am,” he says smoothly, taking another step forward. he offers his arm to you, his ears tinting that pretty shade of crimson that you loved so much as he finally cracks under the scrutiny of everyone else in the room.

“let’s find some privacy, my dear.”

dazed, you just nod as zayne leads you away from the crowd. it disperses soon after anyway, although everyone is now whispering about that cardiac surgeon and zayne's popularity seems to grow just that little bit more.

he takes the two of you to a more secluded part of the room, exhaling softly when you're finally by yourselves. he's almost disappointed by your silence at his new look and he no longer has his fringe to hide behind as his eyebrows knit together slightly.

“you haven’t spoken a word since you saw me,” he comments, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your cheek. he almost gasps in shock as your hand stops his, gripping his wrist gently. “what’s wro-“

his voice trails off as he notices the change in your expression, one he recognises all too well from the privacy of your bedroom. his own ears colour more and he peers down at you in confusion.

“seeing both of your eyes at the same time shouldn’t be this attractive,” you finally murmur, unable to stop staring at zayne.

he clears his throat again at your words, looking around you briefly to make sure no one was listening in.

“i take it you’re fond of my new look?” he asks, hopeful undertones betraying his casual question.

he was so cute, you wanted to squeeze him.

you smile, a mischievous glint in your eye as you suddenly grab him by the tie with your other hand, tugging his face down to hover inches in front of yours. his eyes widen almost comically, his vulnerable expression fully exposed to your devilish eyes.

“i can show you exactly how fond, my love. it doesn't hurt to have dessert first tonight, right?”

as a bashful zayne crowds your giddy self into the empty bathroom stall and locks the door behind him with unusually shaky hands, he thanks astra for those extra twelve minutes he spent in front of the bathroom mirror today.

about me. 

[thewulf]

Wingman's Gambit || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - idk if you’re taking requests rn, but if you are would you mind doing a Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x FemaleBradshawPilot!Reader? where she’s Roosters younger twin sister and he’s really protective over her. anything else included is up to you! i really enjoy your writing!!

A/N: So sorry about the inconsistent posting. Summer is just doing the summer thing! I made Roosters sister a WSO for the stories sake :) Enjoy!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.6k+

T/W : Arguing (With roos)

From your first initial brief encounters with Jake "Hangman" Seresin you gathered enough to understand why his reputation for bravado was almost as well-known as his flying prowess. Despite his cockiness, Hangman always treated you with an unexpected kindness and respect that stood out. Particularly in contrast to his usual smugness. Each interaction, though brief, hinted at a depth beneath the showy exterior which intrigued you more than you had ever anticipated. Especially since you knew how your brother, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw felt about the man… how most pilots felt about him actually.

Now, as you stepped onto the prestigious grounds of Top Gun, it's not just as any recruit. You stepped on as a newly minted WSO. The best of the best elite navigators and tactical hearts behind some of the best pilots in the navy. Here, your brother, has already made a name for himself. He was not just a skilled pilot but a protector, especially where you're concerned. The dynamic at Top Gun shifted perceptibly with your arrival. Rooster, your twin and lifelong guardian, watched over you with a hawk’s vigilance. His protectiveness dialed to its peak amidst the competitive pressures of the academy.

The air crackles with a palpable tension as you walk past the rows of gleaming aircraft with Rooster at your side. Hangman caught sight of you both. The easy grin he typically wears shifts into something more measured though his greeting remains warm and inviting. The rivalry between him and Rooster is well-known and your presence as a WSO—not just Rooster’s sister but a tactical force in your own right—adds a new layer to the already charged atmosphere.

During the initial briefings and training sessions you quickly sensed the underlying tension between Hangman and Rooster. Rooster’s protectiveness was palpable. His demeanor shifting subtly whenever Hangman interacted with you. Despite this though you were determined to carve out your own path, proving your skills in the high-stakes environment of Top Gun and navigating the complex dynamics of friendship, rivalry, and the unspoken rules of engagement.

Your journey at Top Gun was set against the backdrop of supersonic jets and tactical challenges where every decision could tip the delicate balance between personal loyalties and professional duties. With Hangman’s occasional flares of interest and Rooster’s watchful eyes your tenure at the academy was bound to be as thrilling as it was challenging.

First Strike

The debriefing room is abuzz as you and the other members of your squadron file in after a challenging flight simulation exercise. As a WSO your role in today’s mission had been crucial. You managed the weapons systems with precision and played a key part in the team's success. The large screens at the front of the room flicker to life as you set down next to Phoenix. It began showing replays of key moments from the exercise.

Maverick who was your teacher and was overseeing the debriefing, commands the room with an authoritative ease. He walks everyone through various segments of the mission, pausing on a particular maneuver — your maneuver — that had decisively shifted the tide in your squadron's favor.

As the replay highlights your actions, Hangman, usually reserved with his commendations speaks out, “I think we ought to acknowledge the sharp tactics from our WSOs today, particularly Ducky,” he begins, capturing the room’s attention and staring right at you. “Her decisions out there were nothing short of critical. Maybe she should take the lead in coordinating our next sim, see what else she's got up her sleeve.”

Your call sign, Ducky, came as naturally as any others and the irony of it being avian themed wasn’t lost on you. One afternoon after a particularly challenging flight where you demonstrated remarkable agility and finesse your fellow WSO jokingly commented that you were "ducking and weaving like a little duckling out there." The room erupted in laughter, and the name instantly clicked. Despite the initial intention of a light tease, the call sign Ducky resonated, symbolizing not only your ability to maneuver with exceptional ease but also your connection to a family known for their distinctive and memorable contributions to the aviation world.

The suggestion by Jake though seems to take the room by surprise, including Maverick, who raises an eyebrow. He was clearly intrigued by this unexpected praise from Hangman. His interest is evident with a slight smile tugging at his lips as he considers the potential of Hangman’s proposal.

Rooster, however, reacts differently. He doesn't speak. He doesn't need to. His expression tightens, a clear sign of annoyance flashing across his features as he shifts uncomfortably. The protective brother who was always wary of Hangman’s intentions towards you is on edge though he chooses to remain silent. His demeanor speaks incredible volumes though.

Maverick picks up on the tension but chooses to redirect the conversation tactfully. “Interesting point, Hangman. We’ll consider all suggestions. Great work today, everyone, especially our WSO team. Let’s keep the momentum going,” he concludes tactfully before moving the debriefing forward but with a thoughtful look that lingers on you a moment longer, pondering the new dynamics unfolding within his team. With you and Hangman particularly.

After the debriefing concludes the room gradually empties as pilots and WSOs disperse, discussing the day's outcomes and upcoming assignments. You’re gathering your notes when you sense a presence beside you. Hangman leans casually against the table with his hands tucked into his flight suit pockets. That usual mischievous glint in his eyes was showing through as he waited on you.

“Hey, Ducky. Good job today,” Hangman starts, his voice low enough for just the two of you amidst the dispersing crowd. “I wasn’t just blowing smoke in there. You really do have a knack for this.”

“Thanks, Hangman. Just trying to make sure you’re not the only hotshot around here,” you quip with a playful smirk, acknowledging his compliment but keeping the tone light and spirited.

Hangman’s grin widens and he nods towards the doorway where Rooster is lingering. He was clearly waiting for you but doing a poor job of hiding his irritation. “You know, I think your brother might actually laser-beam me with his eyes if he tries any harder,” Hangman murmurs. His voice a conspiratorial whisper that tickles the edge of your ear.

You glance over at Rooster and caught the unmistakable scowl etched across his face. “Yeah, he’s not your biggest fan right now,” you admit while feeling a mix of amusement and familial loyalty tug at you.

Hangman chuckles himself while shaking his head. “Well, if he starts throwing punches you’ll cover me, right? I mean, who’s going to lead the next sim if I’m out of commission?”

His joke eases the tension a bit and you nod, playing along. “I’ll do my best but no promises if he’s really got his heart set on it,” you quip back. Your voice light, teasing.

As you both share a laugh Rooster finally approaches, his steps measured, his expression softening just a touch as he nears. Hangman straightens up while giving you a quick, conspiratorial wink before stepping back to afford you and Rooster some space.

“Ready to go?” Rooster asks, his voice a careful neutral.

“Yeah, just about,” you respond before casting a final smile at Hangman who shoots you a mock-salute and heads off leaving a trace of warmth and a promise of more lighthearted banter for another day.

As Hangman strides away with a confident flick of his hand in farewell Rooster steps closer, his expression serious. “Just be careful with him, alright?” he mutters as his eyes tracked Hangman's departure.

You nod, suppressing the urge to roll your eyes which you let slip anyway as soon as Rooster looks away. “I know, I know. Don’t worry so much,” you reply, keeping your voice light to diffuse any further concern. Despite his protective instincts you're not about to let that dictate your interactions. Not even with someone as notoriously charming as Hangman.

Second Wind

The Hard Deck is buzzing tonight. It was filled with the lively chatter and clinking glasses of Top Gun’s finest unwinding after a week of rigorous training. You’re in the midst of a heated pool game against Payback and the stakes are humorously high. As you line up your shot, the cue ball snapping crisply against your target you sunk it smoothly into the corner pocket. The small crowd od pilots and WSO’s around the pool table lets out a mixture of cheers and groans.

Hangman is the loudest. His voice booming over the others as he claps enthusiastically. “Atta girl, Ducky! Show him how it’s done!” he shouts. The grin evident in his voice. As you straighten up he steps forward while offering you a high-five that lingers just a moment too long. His hand warm and firm against yours. Your smile broadens and a laugh escapes you, fueled by the excitement of the game and the infectious energy of Hangman’s support. Around you the others cheer on, but you catch a glimpse of Rooster at the bar. His glass is halfway to his lips but he’s not drinking. He’s watching. His expression is unreadable, but the set of his jaw and the slight narrowing of his eyes speak volumes.

As the game continues Hangman stays close, his cheers punctuating each of your successful shots. You can’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline with each shout. Not just from the game but also from the attention he’s giving you. It’s fun, it's exhilarating, and it’s something you’ve found yourself looking forward to more often than not.

“You’re killing it, Ducky! Payback’s gonna need a consolation prize after this!” Hangman jests from beside the table. His tone teasing but not without a touch of pride.

Glancing over at Rooster again you notice the slight clench of his fist around his glass, his gaze lingering a moment too long on you and Hangman. It’s clear he’s less than thrilled about the growing camaraderie between you two. He was seeing Hangman’s overt praises as more than just friendly support. Despite the fun atmosphere you can’t shake the awareness of Rooster’s protective instincts flaring up, perhaps seeing Hangman’s enthusiasm as a challenge to his role as your guardian.

The banter between you and Hangman grows more spirited as the evening progresses. Each witty exchange draws laughter from the onlookers and adds a spark to the already electric atmosphere of the Hard Deck. “Careful Payback, she’s got more tricks up her sleeve than I've got maneuvers!” Hangman teases loudly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as you line up another winning shot.

“Yeah, and all of them are better than yours,” you retort without missing a beat. The cue stick hitting the ball with a satisfying click as it sends it hurtling into the pocket.

The growing crowd gets into another round of cheers and Hangman’s laughter joins yours, filling the room with an infectious joy. You can’t help but revel in the blissfulness of it all. The ease of the exchange making the night all the more enjoyable.

From the corner of your eye though you see Rooster pushing away from the bar. His demeanor shifting from protective observer to active participant. Without a word he strides over to the piano in the corner of the room. The conversations around you dim as Rooster’s fingers begin to dance across the keys. That familiar tune that you both loved as kids filling the room.

You can’t help but laugh while shaking your head at Rooster’s not-so-subtle way of stealing the spotlight. “Show-off,” you mutter under your breath though the affection in your voice is clear.

Hangman leans closer, his voice low and amused. “Looks like someone’s trying to remind us he’s still the king of cool around here.”

You lean in too, matching his conspiratorial tone with a playful sparkle in your eye. “You know, I think he’s just trying to draw my attention away from a certain someone,” you say winking subtly at Hangman. “But honestly? I’d rather stay here and chat, just to annoy him a bit more.”

Hangman’s grin widens at that. His eyes lighting up with delight. “Oh, is that so?” he chuckles, clearly enjoying the game. “Well in that case, I’m more than happy to provide all the distraction you need.”

The playful exchange hangs between you, adding a layer of light-hearted flirtation to the evening. Rooster’s piano playing becomes a soft background melody to your continued conversation. Each note a subtle reminder of the familial ties that weave through your interactions. Yet, amidst the laughter and music, there’s a thrill in the air. A shared amusement that only adds to the night’s charm, leaving Hangman more enamored than ever.

Third Time’s the Charm (Or Not)

The briefing room is charged with the usual post-flight tension as pilots and WSOs gather for the day’s assessments and comments from Maverick. You and Hangman had recently completed a tandem training flight that not only went exceptionally well but also demonstrated a seamless dynamic between the two of you. The energy from the flight still buzzes between you as you enter the room together, chatting lightly.

Maverick starts the briefing by outlining the objectives and reviewing key tactical points. As the session nears its end, Hangman, unable to contain his enthusiasm, stands abruptly, interrupting the flow. “I just wanted to say,” Hangman begins, his voice filled with a mix of pride and a hint of something deeper, “flying with Ducky here has been the highlight of my training. Honestly, she’s the best wingman I could ask for.” His eyes find yours across the room with a smile playing at his lips. The statement hanging heavily in the air, laden with unspoken implications.

The room falls into a stunned silence with every eye turning to gauge the reactions around them. Rooster’s chair scrapes back loudly as he stands, his face flushed with anger and frustration.

“This is just you trying to get under my skin, Hangman! Every damn time!” Rooster snaps. His voice cutting through the tension like a knife. The accusation hangs heavy, charging the air with an unmistakable intensity.

You feel a surge of frustration, your own temper flaring as you stand to face your brother. “Really, Roos? Is it always about you? Maybe he likes me as his wingman. Have you ever thought of that?” Your voice, sharp and loud, silences the room completely. The weight of your words settling over everyone like a thick blanket.

Maverick was caught off-guard between the sibling spat and simply looks between you and Rooster. His expression unreadable but clearly uneasy with the escalating drama. Hangman, meanwhile, watches the exchange with a look of remorse, realizing perhaps too late the depth of the rift his words have deepened. As the tension reaches a palpable peak you shake your head more in disappointment than anger, and storm out of the briefing room. Hangman hesitates only a moment before following you, his steps quick as he catches up.

Outside, the cool air hits you like a splash of water helping to temper your heated emotions.

Hangman watches you with a concerned expression as you step outside. “Hey, I know that got intense back there. I’m sorry you had to jump in,” he says softly, his tone sincere.

You sigh, feeling the sting of your outburst. “I just... I didn’t mean to blow up like that. It’s just frustrating when it feels like he doesn’t see me as anything more than his little sister to protect.”

Hangman nods while stepping closer, his presence comforting. “I get it. And for what it’s worth, I meant every word I said in there. You really are the best wingman, Ducky.” His voice carries a warmth that makes you look up, meeting his reassuring gaze.

The corners of your mouth lift in a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Hangman. That means a lot, especially coming from you.” You knew full well he wasn’t one to hand out compliments.

His expression softens and he offers a small, encouraging chuckle. “And, hey, if it’s any consolation, you standing up to your brother in there? That was pretty badass. Not many people can make Rooster pause like that. Trust me, I’ve tried” He smirks trying to ease your frustration.

You laugh at that sounding more relaxed now. “Well, I guess it’s good to know I have a hidden superpower: stopping Bradley in his tracks.”

“Definitely a valuable skill around here,” Hangman agrees, his grin infectious. “Look, I know things can get complicated, but I’m here, alright? Wingman on the ground and in the air.”

The simple assurance brings a sense of relief, and you nod feeling the earlier tension dissipate. “I appreciate that, Jake. Really.”

As you both head back inside the conversation flows more easily, veering into lighter territories—upcoming missions, favorite downtime activities, and the occasional gentle tease. With each step you find yourself genuinely smiling. The weight of the day lifting with the shared understanding that whatever comes next you won’t face it alone.

Clearing the Air

After the tension of the previous day, you know something has to give. Seizing a quiet moment in the early evening you find Rooster and Hangman at the base and steer them toward a secluded spot near the hangar. The impromptu gathering under the fading sky isn’t formal but the air is thick with unsaid things.

“Okay, guys,” you start, cutting straight to the chase. “We need to sort this out. Whatever this is.” You sigh, “Rooster, I appreciate you looking out for me, I really do. But I’m not just your little sister here… I’m a WSO in the Navy, and I need you to trust my judgment. Not just in the air but here on the ground, too.”

He tries to bite his tongue, but he can’t seem to stop himself. “Listen, Y/N, I’m just looking out for you. That’s my job as your brother,” Bradley insisted. His voice stern and unyielding.

Jake shifted uncomfortably, sensing the rising heat in Rooster's tone but remaining silent. His eyes flicking between the two of you.

“It’s not just about being my brother, Bradley!” you shot back, your frustration with him now boiling over. “I’m not a child, and this… this overprotective routine? It’s suffocating. I’m an adult! A WSO and a damn good one at that. I make life or death decisions every day. I can handle Jake. I can handle myself.”

Bradley’s expression tightened. His jaw clenching as he prepared to argue, but you didn’t let him. “I need you to trust my judgment, Roos. Trust that I know what I’m doing. Trust that I can take care of myself.” Your eyes are pleading now.

The raw honesty in your voice seemed to cut through the tension, leaving a heavy silence. Jake watched, his usual bravado nowhere in sight instead replaced by a look of respect towards your fervent declaration.

Bradley looked from you to Hangman, then back again. The fight draining from his stance. He sighed deeply, the lines of his face softening. “I… I’m sorry. I know you’re capable. It’s just hard for me to not see you as my little sister. But you’re right. You deserve to make your own choices. I’ll try to back off.”

You breathed out a mix of relief and residual adrenaline making your hands tremble slightly. “Thank you, Roos. That’s all I ask.”

Turning to Hangman, your tone softens. “And Jake, you’ve been great, really supportive. But sometimes the way you push Bradley’s buttons doesn’t help things. We’re all on the same team, right?”

Jake chuckles while scratching his head sheepishly. He was immensely grateful you were able to handle that before things got too sticky. “Yeah, you’re right darlin’. I might enjoy teasing him a bit too much. I’ll keep it in check.” He nods his head to Bradley. A truce of sorts.

Relief washes over you as the tension begins to dissolve. “Thank you, both. Let’s remember we’re here to make each other better, not make things harder.”

As the conversation winds down, the mood lightens, and Bradley claps you both on the shoulders. “Alright, let’s get back to it then. And maybe I’ll try to keep the drama for the simulators,” he says with a reluctant grin.

As your brother walks away Jake lingers, his smile genuine. “So, now that peace is restored, how about we grab dinner? Just you and me. I owe you one for being the peacekeeper around here.”

Your laughter echoes lightly in the cool evening air. “Sounds like a plan. Just promise it’ll be a drama-free meal.”

“Scout’s honor,” He grins as he fell into step beside you. As you walk towards the mess hall together the easiness between the two of you feels restored. And maybe, just maybe, you feel things a little bit deeper than before.

“Y/N, I wasn’t just trying to get on your good side earlier, you know?” Jake adds as you reach the door. “You really are the best at what you do.”

You nudge him playfully, feeling the last of the day’s stress melt away. “Keep that up and I might let you win at the next sim.”

Hangman laughs loudly. It was a sound you were coming to enjoy. “Deal. But only if you save me a seat next to you at dinner.” As you step into the warmth of the mess hall you can’t help but feel optimistic. With everything laid out and understood the path forward seems a lot clearer. And having Hangman at your side doesn’t just feel good. It feels utterly right.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ryswritingrecord @lostinwonderland314 @xxrougefangxx @greantii @tallrock35 @hyunjinvoid @ahoeforfandomsblog

[rosieswriting]

Barty Crouch Jr x Hufflepuff!reader

Summary: After the birthday of your dear friend, Pandora Rosier, Barty doesn´t seem as bad as he did before

Note: I took one of the request of reader "tutoring" barty not knowing he doesn´t need it by @treefairy-28 thank youuuu. And english is not my first language so it probably has some mistakes! And i will do a part 2 to where things get really interesting

Words: 3,2K

You’d always hated Barty Crouch Junior. Everything about him grated on your nerves—the way he spoke too loudly in class, yet still managed to top every exam; the infuriating pet names he used for you; his smug belief that being a Slytherin somehow made him superior, especially to Hufflepuffs like you. His walk, his talk—everything about him seemed designed to annoy you. Luckily, you’d always managed to ignore him. Until now.

You’d recently been paired with Pandora Rosier for a Potions project, and to your surprise, you’d quickly grown close. How had you not been friends before? She was sweet, caring, and easy to talk to—similar to you in so many ways. When her birthday rolled around, she invited you to a small celebration at the Three Broomsticks with her twin, Evan, and a few of his friends. Including him. You’d thought long and hard about it, knowing you’d have to deal with Barty, but in the end, you decided to go. After all, it was for Pandora, and you could always try to ignore him.

The Three Broomsticks was packed, busier than you’d expected. It seemed half of Hogwarts was out celebrating. Just as you were scanning the room, you heard Pandora’s cheerful voice calling your name.

“Happy Birthday!” you said warmly, pulling her into a hug and handing her a small box containing a silver necklace.

Pandora’s eyes lit up as she opened it. “Oh, I love this! Thank you so much,” she beamed, hugging you again. “Come on, we’re over here.”

She led you through the crowded room toward a cozy corner table. And, of course, as you approached, you saw Evan Rosier, Regulus Black and Barty leaning back in his chair, already watching you with that familiar smirk.

“Hi” you mumbled a bit shyly to the slytherin as you sat next to Pandora, and to your luck, Barty was seated right in front of you. Regulus and Evan gave you a slight nod of acknowledgment and continue their conversation.

“Look who decided to join us” Barty teased raising his eyebrows “Dindt think you would show up, Treasure”

“Barty” Pandora said with a warning tone to his friend, trying to shut him up. But he only raised his hands in self innocence and exuse himself with a poor “just trying to start a conversation”

“I wouldn’t miss Dora´s birthday just because I have to deal with you, Junior” you said with a fake sweet smile to him.

“Deal with me? You wound me Badger” he said and you rolled your eyes at the nickname.

“If its any consolation, im actually impressed that your ego managed to fit through the door” is the last thing you say before turning to talk to Pandora and ignore him.

You and your blonde friend talk for some time, she telling you about how her birthday has been and all the presents she got. At some point you start to get thirsty.

“Im gonna ask for something to drink, ill be right back” you say kindly as you stand up from the chair.

“I’ll go with you” you hear Barty says as he stands up as well.

“Great” you whisper under your breath as you start to make your way to the bar, him following behind you.

You ordered a butterbeer, and Barty, naturally, ordered the same, positioning himself so close that his shoulder brushed against yours. The warm, subtle contact sent an unexpected flutter through you, though you tried to ignore it.

“I must admit,” he began, leaning down just enough to speak directly into your ear, “when Evan told us Dora would invite you, my expectations for tonight went up higher.”

“Good for you,” you muttered, turning to face him with an eye roll, only to find his face so close that you could feel his breath on your cheek. You quickly turned your gaze forward again, pretending to study the bottles lined up behind the bar. He chuckled, catching the slight blush that had crept up your cheeks “When Dora mentioned you were coming, I almost declined her invitation” you continued, doing your best to sound unfazed

 “If you say so. But, can I just say, you show up here looking like this, put me in my place with that sweet, sassy voice of yours… you’re killing me here.”

Despite yourself, you feel warmth creeping up your cheeks.  Thankfully, the bartender hands you both your drinks before you have to answer. You turn to make your way back to the table, but Barty steps in front of you, forcing you to stop short as he smirks down at you, close enough that you catch the faintest spark in his gaze.

“You know, I think you secretly like driving me a little mad,” he murmurs, amusement flickering in his eyes. “It’s cute, really—seeing you pretend to be so above it all.”

“Pretend?” you scoff, raising an eyebrow as you try to sidestep him. “Trust me, Junior, I’m not pretending anything.”

“Oh, really?” he asks, following you smoothly, keeping pace as you try to dodge around him. “Then explain why you look so flustered.”

“I’m not—” You stop, realizing he’s caught you, the faint blush on your cheeks betraying you. You try to shrug it off, holding your head high. “In your dreams, Junior”

He grins, leaning in close enough that his voice is a murmur just for you. “Oh, Treasure. In my dreams we are doing more than talking. Belive me”

You huffed, finally brushing past him and making your way back to the table. “Idiot,” you muttered, though you couldn’t ignore the faint thrill left in the air.

Sliding back into your seat next to Pandora, you tried to steady yourself as she happily dove back into conversation, thankfully distracting you from the lingering heat in your cheeks and Barty’s lingering gaze across the table.

As the night wore on, you and the slytherins stepped out of the warm, bustling atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks into the chilly night air. The sharp bite of winter nipped at your skin, making you shiver as you wrapped your arms around yourself in a futile attempt to keep warm. You hadn’t brought a jacket and now you were regretting it.

Pandora was chatting animatedly with Evan and Regulus, blissfully unaware of your growing discomfort. Barty walked alongside you, his familiar smirk already playing on his lips. You knew he was about to make a comment, and you braced yourself.

Without warning, Barty slipped off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders, pulling it tightly around you before you had the chance to protest. “Here, wear this,” he said, his voice low and smooth, ignoring your startled expression. “You look like you’re about to freeze to death.”

You blinked at him, flustered. “You don´t have to-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Please, like I’d let you suffer while I stand here all warm and toasty.” He chuckled. “You show up looking all stunning, and I won’t let you ruin it by turning into an icicle.”

Your cheeks flushed at the unexpected gesture, the warmth of his jacket enveloping you like a shield. You tried to regain your composure, shivering slightly as you adjusted the jacket to fit more snugly. “Thanks, but I don’t need your charity, Junior.” You weren´t willing to give up that easily.

“Oh, is that what you’re calling it? Charity?” he teased, falling into step beside you again, his grin infuriatingly charming. “I thought it was more of a gentlemanly move, if you will.”

“Gentlemanly? You?” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “You must be joking.”

“Why so skeptical? I can be quite the gentleman when the mood strikes me,” he said, leaning in closer again, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, I can’t have my favorite Hufflepuff catching a cold now, can I?”

You felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks at his words, and you tried to deflect, “You’re just doing this to annoy me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” he replied, a cheeky glint in his eyes. “But I also happen to enjoy the view when you’re flustered. You should see your face right now. It’s adorable.”

“Adorable?” You repeated incredulously, fighting the urge to smile. “You really think you’re charming, don’t you?”

He leaned back slightly, feigning deep thought. “Well, I wouldn’t say charming. More like irresistible.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile as you shot him a glare. “Keep dreaming, Junior.”

“Trust me, I will,” he shot back with that devil-may-care grin.

Pandora turned to you both, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Oh my gosh, you two are so cute! You’re practically flirting!” she gushed, completely unaware of your desire to bury your face in your hands.

“Flirting?” you exclaimed, turning to Barty in disbelief. “This isn’t flirting; it’s sheer torture!”

Barty chuckled, his gaze locked on yours, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Torture? Maybe I’ll have to keep it up then. Can’t have you getting too comfortable, can we?”

As you walked back to Hogwarts, you could feel the weight of his jacket around your shoulders, and though you’d never admit it, the warmth was more than just physical. Despite the banter and the bickering, you couldn’t shake the flutter in your stomach. Barty Crouch Junior might drive you mad, but maybe—just maybe—there was something nice about having him around after all.

You arrive to Hogwarts and everyone makes their way to their common room, the boys to Slytherin´s, Pandora to Ravenclaw´s and you to Hufflepuff´s. You get into your dorm quietly, because even if it was a Friday night, your roomates were sleeping.

As you began to undress, you suddenly realized you still had Barty’s jacket draped over your shoulders. Great, you thought with an eye roll. Now I have to see him again. You sighed, folding it neatly and placing it in your wardrobe alongside your other clothes.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to wash off your makeup and change into your pajamas, you settled into bed. The comfort of your blankets enveloped you, but no matter how hard you tried to shake it off, the memory of Barty's teasing grin lingered in your mind.

You hated that the last thought before sleep was that goddamn smirk of his—so infuriating yet somehow captivating. With a frustrated huff, you turned over, determined to banish thoughts of him, but the image of his charming arrogance persisted, a playful reminder of the night’s events.

You woke up the next day, the soft sunlight filtering through the windows of your dormitory. The quiet of the weekend morning was a welcome contrast to the usual hustle and bustle of school life. You moved through your routine slowly, knowing you had no classes to rush to today. After freshing up, you dressed casually and made your way to the Great Hall for breakfast. You decided to take Barty´s jacket with you, so you could return it as soon as possible.

And thanks to Merlin, when you enter the Great Hall you immediately spotted him at the Slytherin table with his friends. You wave at your own friends and make them a signal to wait for you as you approached the green table, your friends staring at you like you had gone crazy.

“Junior” you call out softly from behind him.

Barty´s head whipped around, his grin widening when he saw you “Treasure!” his voice was full of amusement as he looked you up and down “Miss me alredy?”

You rolled your eyes and extended his jacket over him “Im here to return this, and to say thank you again” even if he was insufferable, you were always polite.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased by your words, as he took the jacket from you “You know, I was hoping you would keep it for longer. You did look amazing in it. Not that I didn’t like you in your top, of course”

You felt the heat increasing in your cheeks at his words but try to hide it with a scoff, your hands instinctively moving to fold your arms across your chest. “Whatever” you muttered, stepping back and already starting to turn away “Goodbye”

Some days later you were sitting with your friends in the courtyard, laughing as you discussed the latest mishap in Potions class, when you noticed a familiar figure making his way toward you. Barty Crouch Jr, in all his swagger, had that unmistakable smirk as he approached your small circle, his eyes already fixed on you.

"Treasure," he greeted smoothly, nodding to your friends before focusing entirely on you. "Got a minute?"

You raised an eyebrow, a bit taken aback that he’d be seeking you out in broad daylight, in front of witnesses no less. “Depends. What do you want, Junior?”

He chuckled, unfazed by your tone. "Pandora said you’re somewhat of an expert in Magical Creatures. Thought maybe you could help a struggling Slytherin with a few... basics.”

Your friends exchanged glances, one of them biting back a smile as they elbowed each other. You tried to ignore it, focusing on Barty. “Struggling?” you echoed, skeptical. “You’re one of the top students. Why do you need my help?”

He shrugged, managing to look both innocent and mischievous. “Call it an off week. I could use some extra guidance.”

One of your friends couldn’t resist chiming in, “Are you sure you don’t just want to copy her notes, Barty?”

“Oh, I’d love to copy,” he said, giving you a pointed look, “but I think I’d learn more if we… studied together. Say, this afternoon?”

“Fine,” you said, ignoring the snickers from your friends. “The library at six?”

“Or my room?” he suggested, not missing a beat. “Much quieter. Comfier too.”

You rolled your eyes, even as your friends burst into laughter. “Nice try. The library will do just fine.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning disappointment. “Heartbreaking, really. I was hoping for a more… private lesson.”

“Guess you’ll just have to settle for learning in public,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “See you at six, Junior.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, his smirk widening.

With that, he turned and sauntered off, leaving your friends barely containing their laughter.

“Oh, Merlin,” one of them said as soon as he was out of earshot, “did Barty Crouch Jr. just ask you for a tutoring session?”

You sighed, trying not to show the flutter of nerves in your stomach. “Apparently. And he’d better actually need help with Magical Creatures.”

But even as you turned back to your conversation, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this “study session” was going to be anything but ordinary.

That evening, you made your way to the library with a stack of notes on magical creatures and a determination to focus—no matter how distracting your “student” might try to be. When you arrived, you saw Barty lounging at a back table, idly flipping through a book that looked suspiciously unrelated to magical creatures.

“Good, you’re here,” he said with a grin as you sat down. “I was starting to think you’d stand me up.”

You rolled your eyes as you sat in front of him “Almost did” you mumble under your breath as you opened your book and notes. The library was quiet as you huddled over a hefty tome on magical creatures, quills and parchment spread across the table between you. It seemed like he was genuinely focused—or at least, he pretended to be.

“Alright, Junior” you said, pointing to a section in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, “why don’t you tell me everything you know about hippogriffs?”

He gave you a thoughtful look, scratching his chin as if deep in concentration. “Hmm… majestic creatures, proud, can be very dangerous if approached incorrectly… does that sound right?”

You tilted your head, eyeing him suspiciously. “So you do know about them, after all. That’s a decent start.”

“Well, I have the basics,” he said with a little grin, “but I wouldn’t call myself an expert. That’s where you come in, Treasure.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, nudging the book closer to him. “Alright, fine. Hippogriffs are proud, but there’s more to them than that. They’re highly sensitive and require respect—bowing to them before approaching is essential.”

He nodded, trying to keep a straight face, though you could tell he was amused. “Bowing. Got it. Sort of like dealing with you, isn’t it? Respect, admiration…���

You huffed, fighting the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “Keep it up, and I’ll leave you to fend for yourself next time we have a test.”

“Anything but that,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, though his grin didn’t fade. “You’re far too charming when you’re lecturing me on magical creatures.”

You ignored him and went over a few more creatures, each time finding him surprisingly attentive. He asked questions—good ones, actually—and seemed engaged in a way you hadn’t expected. You started to think maybe he genuinely did want to learn more about the subject.

As the library began to empty, you glanced at the time. “We should probably get some dinner before the house-elves clear the tables,” you said, gathering your notes.

You started to walk to the Great Hall, still in conversation about the finer points of bowtruckles, when something slipped out from under his arm and fluttered to the ground. You instinctively bent down to pick it up, and your eyes widened as you caught sight of the parchment. It was an essay titled “The Lifecycle of Thestrals” with “A” scrawled at the top in red ink. The neat handwriting and the perfectly structured points left no doubt: Barty had known exactly what he was doing in Care of Magical Creatures all along.

You blinked, looking from the essay to Barty, who wore a guilty-but-unbothered grin.

“What’s this?” you asked, eyebrows raised. “You didn’t need my help at all, did you?”

“Guilty as charged,” he replied, his smirk widening.

You scoffed, folding your arms. “Unbelievable. So you wasted my time?”

He leaned in, voice dropping to a low murmur. “Come on, can you really blame me?” His eyes held that familiar glint. “When Pandora mentioned you were the go-to expert on magical creatures, I knew I couldn’t miss the chance. I mean, who wouldn’t want to spend a few hours with someone as pretty as you, Treasure?”

Heat crept up your cheeks, and you looked away, trying not to let him see how flustered you felt. “You are unbelievable,” you muttered, but your voice came out softer than you intended.

“Unbelievably charming? I’ll take it,” he said, grinning as you approached the Great Hall. “I had a great time, by the way. Maybe next time, we can have a... more private study session.”

He threw you a wink before sauntering off toward the Slytherin table, leaving you standing there, cheeks flushed, speechless, and—if you were being honest with yourself—a bit confused. Because somehow, despite his insufferable arrogance, the idea of spending more time with him didn’t sound half as annoying as you’d expected.

[daddy-dotcom]

Scents and Sensibility

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Summary: You see an ad for those “pheromone perfumes” and decide to test its effect on your boyfriend at work. Requested by the lovely @swaggysagiewagie

Words: 1,164

Warnings: Implied smut and maybe like 1 swear word

——————————————————

I'm normally not one to make impulse purchases, but I just couldn't resist. I always thought those pheromone perfumes were a gimmick, but as a woman of science, I decided to test one and see if it actually worked. More specifically, I wanted to see if it worked on Spencer. Normally, we keep things very tame while we're on the clock. The team knows we're a couple, but we make sure to keep the PDA to a minimum. I don't mind his lack of affection at work, especially given the fact that he's not very expressive in public either, but it wouldn't hurt to get more than a peck on the cheek every now and then while were on the job. To test the effects of my newest purchase, I applied just a bit of the perfume before walking out the door to work.

Immediately as I walked through the lobby, I began turning heads. I typically went unnoticed when I entered the lobby, but the security guards said hello to me this morning as did the men in the elevator. I made my way up to our unit and I made my way to my desk, as usual. As I passed Morgan's desk, I could instantly tell that something was out of the ordinary.

"Good morning, babygirl," he said, eyeing me up and down more than usual. He's called me beautiful, gorgeous, or even pretty several times, but babygirl was exclusively reserved for Garcia.

"....good morning?" I replied, somewhat confused, but mostly smug because I had a feeling that my new perfume was working.

JJ Prentiss were talking amongst themselves when I came over to greet them. We exchanged our typical weekend updates before Emily asked me if I was wearing a new perfume.

"It smells amazing. Is it vanilla?" JJ asked.

"I think so? To tell you the truth, I'm not actually sure. I actually bought it on a whim because it's a pheromone perfume."

"Oh come on, (Y/N), you know those are all fake right" said Emily.

"You wanted to see if it worked on Spence didn't you?" JJ asked with a grin creeping up on her face.

Just then, an angry Garcia walked up to us demanding to know why Morgan had started referring to me as "babygirl."

I proceeded to spill the beans about how I wanted to mess with Spencer and see if he would be able to keep his hands off me at work now that I've used the perfume. They agreed not to reveal my secret weapon to Spencer, but we also wanted to see if it had an effect on any of our other team members.

Almost on cue, Spencer made his way over to greet us.

"Morning everyone!" he said in his usual upbeat tone. I saw him pause for a moment when he got close to me and I could practically see his brain short-circuiting. Then, in a much softer tone with his voice dropped a few octaves, he turned to me and said "good morning my love." He leaned in to give what I assumed would be our usual daily quick peck on the lips, but he gently placed one hand on my hip and let his lips linger much longer than usual. I pulled away after a few seconds, my face beet red from the realization that Garcia, Prentiss, and JJ were still watching us.

"I'll see you in the meeting," he said, walking away with a smirk.

I could feel the other agents' eyes on me as I stood there like a lovesick teenage girl.

"Well I would say that definitely worked on him" JJ said.

"You're making it way too easy for him, (Y/N)," Prentiss added.

And she was right. I was giving in to Spencer's advances way too easily. If I wanted the full effect of the perfume, I was going to have to make him beg for it. We dispersed and made our way to the meeting room to be briefed on our case. On our way in, I brushed past Rossi, who also seemed to take notice of my new scent.

"You're looking nice today, (Y/N), got a hot date?" he joked, glancing over at Spencer. I let out a laugh before replying, "I hope so."

I took the spot between Hotch and Spencer, acting somewhat indifferent to my boyfriend’s presence to see if he would notice. As I settled into my seat, I saw Hotch do a double take out of the corner of my eye. He may not have said anything, but I could tell he wasn’t immune to the effects of my new perfume either. Garcia began her usual presentation about our new case, but I could hardly focus on anything she was saying because I could feel a hand slowly creeping up my thigh, and it definitely wasn’t Hotch’s. Still, I pretended not to notice his slender fingers toying with the hem of my skirt, even though I was consumed with thoughts of where I'd rather have them.

After what seemed like ages, Hotch finally dismissed us to prepare to board the jet. Since I was pretty much always prepared, I was the first one to board, and I noticed Spencer followed me shortly after, looking like a lost puppy dog. I was reaching up high to put my luggage up in the overhead bin, which was a task I usually asked Spencer to do for me. However, Spencer would be boarding the jet any moment now, so I decided to do it myself, an action which not-so-accidentally caused my skirt to ride up in the back. I heard familiar, converse-wearing footsteps behind me, but once again I pretended not to notice.

"(Y/N) you know you can't reach up there yourself, let me help," he said, firmly pressing his body against my backside as he stretched his arms up to assist me. I felt his hips flush against my ass and his arms moved to firmly plant themselves at my waist.

"I don't remember giving you permission to touch me, Spence," I said, not bothering to hide the grin on my face due to our position.

"Please, love, I can't help it. You smell so delicious today I don't know what's gotten into me."

He began leaving a trail of kisses from my lips down to my neck and I couldn’t help but finally give in to his requests.

“You better make it quick before the others board the jet,” I said, trying to stifle a moan.

“All I need is 5 minutes. Two if you keep those heels on.”

“Deal. But you’re not coming until I say so.”

“Anything you want, love. I just need you.”

I quickly pulled him into the bathroom of the jet, where he definitely proved that he really did need only two minutes.

“By the way, are we part of the mile high club if the plane didn’t technically leave the ground?”

[leighsartworks216]

Hii I saw ur reblog about the kiss prompts!

I choose - "if you win, i'll kiss you"

With nervous kiss and height difference! 😳🙏

I actually had a hard time trying to fit these prompts together but I think I did pretty well!

Warnings: knife throwing, height difference

Word Count: 1,327

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“What’s that make it now? 12 to…?”

“You’re such an ass.”

“Come now, dear, you’re being too harsh - my memory isn’t what it used to be, you know. How many wins do you have?”

Your glare could have burned a hole right through him, all the while Astarion looked every bit the smarmy bastard he was. He just loved teasing you. It satisfied him to no end to peer down at you as you fumed. Steam could come pouring out your ears and he’d still have that smug smirk on his stupid face.

You huffed through your nose, fighting the growing urge to throw the dagger right at his head - you’d miss anyway. This whole game started when you’d tried throwing a knife at a goblin as a last ditch effort. You missed horribly, and Astarion just couldn’t let it go. “Zero.”

He gasped dramatically and laid a hand on his chest. “Not a single one?! Well, this won’t do!” He leaned in, teeth showing as he grinned wickedly. “How about we make a little bet? Make things a bit more interesting.”

You scoffed. “So you can sweeten the deal in your favor and wipe the floor with me, again?”

“Hmm, I tell you what: in the interest of keeping things interesting, I’ll give you two throws. If you hit, you win.”

“Let me guess - you get three.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please, darling, I have some tact. I’ll get one throw. If I can hit the dummy square in the head, I win.” He accentuated the point by flipping his dagger in the air, easily catching it by the hilt by pure muscle memory alone.

You frowned, studying his face for any sign of deceit. You were getting really close to hitting… Gods, this is a terrible idea. You sigh. “Fine. What do you propose?”

A spark of mischief flickered in his eye, so quick it could have just been a trick of the light, but you knew him better than that. “If I win, you’re responsible for sewing up everyone’s clothes for a week.”

“And if I win?”

He smirked and lowered his face to be right next to yours, cold breaths tickling your ear as he whispered. “If you win, I’ll kiss you.”

Your heart raced as your face flushed. You could tell he noticed, too, when he pulled away with that self-satisfied look on his face. You cleared your throat, urging it not to shake as you grumbled, “It sounds like you’re making more out of this either way.”

“Yes, but one is certainly more desirable for you, no? Besides, what are the odds of you winning? You should have nothing to fear.”

You frowned, but he had a point. Resigned to your fate, your shoulders slump. “Fine. It’s a deal.”

“Excellent.”

You both lined up about 10 feet away from the straw dummy. It had numerous marks in its head and body, all landed by the vampire spawn beside you. But you felt good about this time. You felt you could actually hit it.

You didn’t hate the idea of kissing him, especially if it meant saving your hand the cramping of patching up your companions’ clothes, but, well… You’d never been kissed before. There was no reason why, you’d just never been close enough with someone to warrant it.

Your heart raced thinking about it. Your face was as warm as Karlach by now. But you swallowed down the feelings and focused. If you just aimed very carefully, you might be able to get it.

“You first, love.”

Gods, now was not the time for endearing pet names.

“Hush, fangs.”

He chuckled softly, but stayed quiet otherwise. You held the handle of the dagger, just as he showed you, and aimed. You took a breath, lifted it up, and with a quick swing it was flying through the air… Right over the dummy’s shoulder. You growled in frustration.

Cool hands smoothed over your shoulders, urging them to relax. “Take it easy, dear. Keep your wrist locked and keep your elbow tucked in when you lift the dagger to throw.” He slid his hand down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake as he showed you how to keep your wrist straight and your elbow close to your ear. Then, he backed away and watched.

Shaking off the phantom feeling of him standing so close, you readied yourself again. You aimed, pulled your arm back so your elbow stayed tucked in, and steadied your wrist. With a deep breath, you threw the knife.

Time seemed to slow down as it flipped through the air. All sound faded away. You weren’t sure you were breathing. All you could focus on, all that mattered, was this stupid dagger.

In barely a second, the knife found its mark in the straw ribcage of the dummy.

A tidal wave of excitement and joy shot through your system. You cheered and pumped your fists in the air and gave a victorious yell that put Karlach’s to shame. And then, in the next instant, another knife flew by and lodged itself right next to yours. Your breath caught in your throat. Your eyes were wide when you turned to Astarion.

He smiled, part genuine and part impish. “Congratulations, darling. It seems you’ve won.” His smile only grew more flushed you became. He crowded into your space, peering down at you like a fox staring down a rabbit. “Don’t tell me you’re going to back out of our deal now.”

You swallowed. “I…” You glanced around camp, but no one seemed to be paying attention. They were all too busy preparing for the next day. You met his eye again and lowered your voice to a whisper, meant for his ears only. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

His eyes widened, brows raising minutely. He never thought the brave, compassionate leader before him would be so… inexperienced, to put it kindly. You’d always seemed to carry this sort of confidence, he just assumed…

“We don’t have to,” he back-peddled. He’d never have suggested it if he’d known. Well… Okay he would, but that look on your face - puppy-dog eyed and uncertain. It twisted his insides. He started to step away, out of your space, but you caught his arm.

“No, I…” You took a breath to steady your shaky nerves. “I want this.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, but he could still feel the anxious way you fiddled with the fabric of his shirt. It was cute. And terrifying. You wanted him to be your first. It was only fair - you were his first after all.

Moving slowly to give you a chance to back out, he raised his hands to cup your jaw, fingers brushing over your pulse and tilting your head up. You were shorter than him, enough that he had to hunch a bit to meet your eyes like this. You held onto his arms, too unsure to hold him anywhere else. He leaned down, noses almost touching. He could see your eyes flickering from his eyes to his mouth; feel your heart beneath his fingers as it skipped with his proximity. In a final act of courage, you stood on your toes and met him halfway.

It was clumsy at first. You had no idea what you were doing, all you knew was his lips were soft and he tasted like wine. He gently tilted your head, smoothing out the initial uncoordinated start. His lips meshed with yours as he showed you exactly what to do. When you experimentally nipped at his lip, he almost groaned. It wasn’t perfect, but he was sick and tired of perfect. It was wonderful. He was almost reluctant to pull away. But you still needed to breathe, living thing that you were.

He chuckled as he pressed his forehead to yours, watching with rapture as you caught your breath, lips swollen so beautifully. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @mheerdraws @kindadolly @httyd-chocolate @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red

[yesimwriting]

Felix and lovie:

L: but... arent promise rings meant for bfs and gfs?

Felix: i mean, we made the promise to always be close so its our promise ring i think.

L: i guess youre right!

Farleigh: 🧍🏾‍♂️

i want to queue posts before i go on my trip but i also i love instant gratification ahhh

this isn’t exactly promise rings but i think it feels pretty close

His room still smells the same--faint traces of smoke and cologne blending into slightly humid air. You're not sure what you expected. Felix left for a weekend for some family function his mother wanted him to attend. Two days.

Not a significant amount of time. Not enough time to change anything, and yet you felt every second of it. You missed him. Missed him more than you think you'd ever be willing to admit.

"Did you miss me?" There's no way he knows what you were thinking about, but there's something about the slight tilt of his head and his barely there smile.

You hold his gaze for a beat before letting your attention fall to your shoes. "Maybe a little."

Felix's mouth falls open in a mock gasp. "Maybe?" And then, still completely appalled, "A little?"

You press your lips together into a firm line to keep from laughing at his reaction. Felix moves to stand, leaving his bed in favor of approaching you. In an attempt to hold your ground, you cross your arms in front of your chest. Felix disregards your feeble line of defense, continuing forward until you're within easy reach.

"I could say--" Felix places a firm hand on your shoulder. A sound between a laugh and something slightly more panicked tumbles through your sentence. "I could say I missed you a lot, but--" Another hand on your other shoulder, another clumsy laugh. "But I don't need to feed your ego."

He pulls you forward gently until your face hits his chest. You halfheartedly lift your arm in an empty attempt to push him away. You're quicker to embrace defeat, glad for the excuse to be near him, really near him.

You hugged Felix when he first got back to campus, but with his usual crowd all desperate to catch up with him and Farleigh right there, you felt a little more watched than usual. You couldn't do what you really wanted, couldn't take a beat to just absorb Felix's warmth.

"So you were being mean."

You're only half listening, more focused on wrapping your arms around Felix. The scent of his detergent is stronger than usual, nearly obscuring the scent of his cigarettes entirely. Maybe he smoked less this weekend. You try to picture Felix under some kind of authority, sneaking cigarettes out on a patio to avoid upsetting his parents. It's so normal, a part of you regrets not getting to see him like that.

His hand presses against your back. "Lovie?"

You lift your head enough to look at him. "Yeah?"

Felix's eyebrows briefly pull together. He watches you for a moment before grinning. "You missed me."

His smugness has the instinct to protest crawling up your throat, but there's something so content about his expression, you can't bring yourself to deny it the way you usually would. "I missed you. A lot."

Felix's grin broadens. He tilts his head downwards, his lips briefly brushing against your forehead. He straightens before responding, "You could have come with me."

You did meet Felix's sister during your Christmas break trip, and she was really nice, but Felix's world is still something you're vaguely wary of. Maybe you could have come around to the idea of meeting Felix's parents, but the thought of attending some event intended only for his family was a little overwhelming, especially because Felix didn't invite any of his other friends.

"It was a family thing."

Felix lets out a soft sigh. "I brought Farleigh."

"Farleigh's your cousin, he was already invited."

He pulls back slightly, his hands moving away from your back as he lets go of you. "No one cares if you bring a date to those things." It's the same argument he used in an attempt to get you to go with him. "It's to keep the night bearable."

"Bearable?" You beam. "You missed me."

From you, it's an accusation. Felix's eyebrows draw together, like he's unsure why you felt the need to say something so obvious. "I missed you." He shifts back on his heels in a way that borders on uncertain. "So much, I brought you back a present."

You raise your eyebrows at that. Felix is a thorough person. When he gives someone his attention, that person has his entire focus. When Felix gives presents, he tends to be just as generous. It's not a bad thing, but it is something the two of you have talked about. Yes, you're best friends, but that doesn't mean you want Felix splurging on you. Even if it's not splurging to him.

Felix turns, walking towards the bag that he left on his bed. With his back to you, it's a little easier to watch him openly. He went to English countryside for some charity event put on by some cousin. What could he have gotten? "A present?"

He unzips his bag. "Yes," Felix shifts through his close, "A present."

When Felix turns to face you again, there's a something small and square in his hand. The closer Felix gets, the clearer the object becomes. A box that's oddly reminiscent of a jewelry box.

With an abruptness that doesn't seem to suit him, Felix extends his arm to hand you the box. You watch Felix as you take the box, doing your best to decipher his expression. He's strangely blank.

You open the box, revealing a ring safely tucked between cushioned velvet. There's an image carved into the flat face of the ring. The carving of an arrow-pierced hand emerging from a crown is vaguely familiar. You might have cared about placing the image more if the ring was less stunning.

"You um--you wear a lot of rings, so I thought..."

You do wear a lot of rings, there are several on your fingers right now. "It's really pretty."

"My mum was going through some older pieces this weekend and it reminded me of you." The explanation is mumbled cautiously, Felix's attention shifting from you to the ring and then back to you.

Your lips part, an uncertainty you're not accustomed to feeling around him making it hard to speak. You don't know everything about Felix's family history, but you know enough to understand that when he says something from his home is old, he means it.

"Lex." The gesture tugs at a sentimental part of you that exists solely in the pit of your stomach. "That's really sweet, and it's really pretty, but I can't take some family heirloom from you."

His eyebrows pinch together in a way that feels more confused than directly unhappy. "You're not taking it, I'm giving it to you." Felix shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "C'mon, I've got loads of these, it's just been sitting in some closet."

Felix is watching you with wide, almost pleading eyes. You let your gaze fall back onto the ring. With no warning, Felix places a hand over yours. "We'll trade."

You don't fully understand what he's getting at until Felix starts to straighten your fingers. He twists the ring that's on your ring finger. It's a nice ring, a simple band with thin carvings that you picked up at a vintage jewelry shop on a whim, but it's not exactly an even trade.

Felix slides the ring off your finger. A trade is a little easier to accept. The two of you share things like bracelets all the time. "Okay," you pause to take a breath, "But if you ever want it back..."

"Yeah, I know." The words feel like a dismissal. You narrow your eyes briefly, but don't push the subject the way you normally would. You're too happy to see him to care about technicalities.

Felix pulls the ring out of the box and slips onto your finger. You bend your fingers and turn over your hand to get a feel for the ring and its size. It fits. "It's really nice."

"It suits you."

Before Felix can pull your ring onto his finger, you put your hand over his. He lets take your ring from between his fingers. You hold your thumb beneath Felix's palm, the rest of your fingers curling over his knuckles. Felix keeps his fingers straight as you place your own ring on his finger. "There."

Felix grins. "There?"

"Yeah, it's--" You ignore the warmth attempting to make its way up your neck. "It's in place."

He stretches his fingers, studying the way the band looks on him. There's something about his expression you can't quite read, but it doesn't seem unpleasant. He drops his hand before you can attempt to decipher his thoughts any further. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

You drag your thumb against the side of the ring. "Yeah, a movie sounds nice."

----

fun fact the design carved into the ring is supposed to be the catton family crest :)

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny @lilyrachelcassidy @khxna @imbabycowboy

[simplyreveries]

hii!! i just found your blog and the writings are all so good?!! can i request lilia, riddle, and epel with a yuu/mc that’s shorter than them? if it’s not ok you can ignore this!! tysmm(≧∀≦) and have a nice day!!!

i sometimes forget im the same height as riddle fkljd

lilia vanrouge

lilia is always teasing you about it even if it's only like… you’re shorter by an inch or two. he’s playfully telling you how cute and small you are in comparison to him; he tells you he thinks you're such a fragile human. he loves to hug you and bury his face in your hair, he’ll coo to you as he playfully rocks you side to side, it’s sweet.

sometimes he does make jokes regarding it and trust me they're so bad that its almost funny. (keyword almost, you just give him a deadpan stare). one time when no one could hear you saying something during class, lilia mentions "ah well i guess it can't be helped. after all, you're easy to overlook fufu". once again lilia says all these things like he isn't 5'1.

he enjoys giving you kisses on the cheek- but he also loves grabbing your face with his hands and lifting it up a little so he can give you a kiss on the forehead. then that would only turn into him attacking your face with kisses all over.

riddle rosehearts

he doesn't necessarily say anything about it, but he is quite happy to know you're someone that's actually shorter than him. besides, his dorm leader uniform usually gives him some extra height with the boots/heels he wears and has on most of the time. if you ever were to point that out, he'd give an amused look and be like "hm, i guess i am, arent i?" he feels so confident askdhahdj

one time after you did enough pleading with him to let him try on his heels that are a part of his uniform to feel that extra sense of height. he wouldn't admit it, but he found the whole thing to be quite silly and bit back some laughs.

riddle is a little content too with the fact that he has someone he looks down at when talking to instead of up… it hurts your neck yk. he has also developed a habit of petting your hair, especially when he’s in a soft and relaxed mood with you. he has a gentle smile on his face as he pets your hair as you're talking or whenever you come over to hug him.

epel felmier

im not even going to lie to you he is incredibly happy that you're shorter than him, it makes him just feel so good about himself… he is also genuinely surprised because it's not often he meets someone his age that's shorter than him. epel finally gets to feel confident and smug even if it's being a single INCH taller than you. you've once caught him standing next to you and discreetly doing the hand thing to see how much shorter you are than him haha.

even though he doesn't like the shoes vil gives him or makes him wear for pomefiore’s dress codes and such, he does like how much more of a boost it gives him to his height so that he can feel even that much taller than you, he’ll laugh and if you ask him why he’ll get closer to you and point that out.

he doesn't really take it kindly when other tall guys at nrc seem to tease you about it, he gets pretty defensive over you… like it's it's mostly because he's used to hearing it himself and knows how harsh people can be. he doesn't want to ever see you upset like him because of it too. he can't help but feel a little more protective over you.

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 22: Storm

A spring snowstorm hits Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-21 found on Tumblr here.

PLEASE PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO THE CONTENT WARNINGS, THIS IS A ROUGH CHAPTER!!!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Past sexual assault vaguely described; animal death; PTSD response; sexual assault of a minor mentioned in a vulgar way (not seen); possible child death. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 8.6k 

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Early May, 2013 

You were outside when the woman rode up. 

Your home was well hidden and you’d only seen five people since Mark had left almost a year earlier, each of them making their way into your land and telling you that he’d sent them your way. They were all kind, they were all vulnerable and they were all loaded down with things you would need. Flashlight batteries and bulbs, sugar and salt, rubbing alcohol and petroleum jelly. Thread, fabric, pain killers, antibiotics, guitar strings. One woman had been sent with a snack sized bag of Lays that were still sealed and a bottle of whiskey. That had made you smile, the clearest sign that Mark hadn’t forgotten about you. 

All of the others had arrived on foot, seemingly with a good idea of where to go, mostly alone but two women has traveled together. The timing wasn’t predictable but you at least knew what you could expect when someone Mark sent your way came into your territory.

This woman was different. 

You heard her before you saw her, the thundering footfalls and heavy breathing of her horse loud against the quiet of the forest. You didn’t have time to fortify your position, didn’t even have time to go get more ammo. So you stood your ground and raised your rifle, heart pounding, when she burst through the tree line and into the clearing that you called home. 

“Back the fuck up!” You yelled, gun raised. The horse all but skidded to a stop, the woman on its back clutching a bundle of blankets to her chest with one hand, yanking back on the reins with the other.  

“Easy!” She said dropping the reins and putting her hand up. She still clung to the bundle. You recognized the horse. It was Perseus, it was Mark’s horse. “Are you Texas?” 

“Who’s askin’?” Your accent was thick, fear a knot in your stomach as you looked Perseus over. You didn’t see any signs of injury.

She kept her hand up. 

“You knew Mark?” She asked. She had an accent, too. Georgia southern, like Mark. “Brown hair, criminally long eyelashes?” 

You narrowed your eyes at her and tightened your grip on your weapon. 

“He knew you,” she kept going. “He… he told me all about you. Doubt he ever mentioned me but… he talked about you all the time. He loved you and I think you loved him, too.” 

You swallowed past the growing lump in your throat and tightness in your chest. She kept using past tense. 

“What about him?” You asked, keeping your gun raised but your grip loosened. 

“He sent me to find you. We need your help,” she said, reaching and tugging her pant leg up just enough to reveal a festering bite mark on her ankle. “And I don’t have much time.” 

***

Early April, 2027

“I can’t believe you’ve been calling her a fucking baby deer this whole goddamn time!” 

Ellie was perched on Shimmer’s stall door, watching as you and Joel set out blankets for the horses. It has been snowing all day and winds were picking up. You were worried a blizzard was moving in and you wanted help getting the horses set to ride out the storm if you couldn’t get to them for a day or two. 

Joel was happy to assist, especially since he had come back from patrol a week earlier with a copy of Bambi on VHS. Ellie hadn’t been able to calm down about it since and it reminded him of the giddiness she had when she started in on the puns the first time, almost four years ago now. He’d have done anything to get that back and, it turned out, all it took was an old Disney movie and a funny nickname.  

“Thank you,” you laughed, almost smug. “Don’t talk for a few minutes and get saddled with the name of a cartoon deer for life…” 

“Hey, needed somethin’ to call you and you try coming up with anything else after lookin’ at you with those big eyes,” Joel said, defensive but smiling. “Not my fault it stuck.” 

“Yeah well Bambi here was gonna kick your ass the first time we met,” she replied. “Big bad contractor was gonna get beat up by a fucking cartoon deer from a kid’s movie…”

Joel tried to keep from laughing and raised his eyebrows at you. 

“OK that’s an exaggeration,” you said. “All I was going to do…” 

“I asked if you were going to try to kick his ass,” Ellie cut you off. “And you said ‘no try about it, I was gonna kick his ass.’” 

“And what did I do to deserve that?” Joel asked, teasing. 

“Well, Ellie tried to warn me about you…” You began, but Ellie cut you off. 

“Should have listened….” 

You glared at her. 

“But she wasn’t very clear,” you said. “And if some grown man was messing around with a girl, I was going to kick his ass. Turns out I didn’t have a reason to.” 

Joel laughed. 

“Glad you spared me.” 

You laughed before planting your hands on your hips, looking around the stable for a moment, taking stock. 

“Think things are just about as good as they’re gonna get,” you sighed. “But I think they should be good for a day until we can dig out and get back over here. Just wait for them to finish dinner, put more feed in after…” 

“Think there’s any chance of the patrols making it back tonight?” Ellie asked, her eyebrows drawn together. 

“Probably not,” Joel said. “They got places to ride out shit like storms if they get stuck, they’ll be alright.” 

“Still,” you said. “Had a group that was due back tonight, Jackson was probably the closest point to ride it out. Think I’ll hang out for a bit yet…” 

“I’ll go get us something to eat,” Joel said. “We’ll wait with you, head home after, settle in to ride out the storm.” 

“Can we stay at Bambi’s?” Ellie asked. “She’s got a way better stereo.” 

You smiled. 

“Sure, kid,” you said. “On you to get Joel to dance party, though.” 

“Dance party?” He frowned. 

“You wouldn’t get it, Old Man,” she replied, the hint of a smirk on her face. 

“Don’t get a lot of things about you, Baby Girl,” he said before stretching his back a bit. “Alright, back in a few. Try not to find too much trouble while I’m gone.” 

You and Ellie both rolled your eyes and he couldn’t help but smile as he made his way through the few inches of snow that had already fallen, heading for the mess hall. 

One of Joel’s favorite parts of being back on good terms with Ellie was getting to see your relationship with her. Even before she was mad at him, he wanted her to have someone like you in her life. Another woman she could talk to, look up to, guide her in ways he didn’t fully understand. She needed that and he hadn’t been able to see it happening from the distance she was holding him at before. 

He knew the two of you were close, he just hadn’t realized how close until the last few months. The two of you felt more like family than Sarah’s mother ever had and he treasured it, treasured that you seemed to love his daughter almost as much as he did. 

The mess hall was getting ready for a storm, too, putting together baskets of food to send home with Jackson residents so people wouldn’t be struggling through the storm for their meals over the next few days. He gathered enough to last the three of you for a bit plus some sandwiches for tonight before he started back toward the stables, the wind more forceful and biting than when he’d left just half an hour earlier. 

As he got closer, he noticed tracks in the snow, hoof prints leading to the stables. A patrol had made it back and, for half a moment, he was a little disappointed. If the storm wasn’t as bad as they were expecting and the patrol was able to make it back to Jackson without losing much time, he might not get to spend the day with you and Ellie tomorrow. Ever since the storm started moving in that afternoon he’d been excited for the chance to have some unexpected time just the three of you - almost like playing hooky but with permission. 

But he knew he should just be happy the patrol made it home through the weather, hopefully with all the people intact. Which, he was. But damn if he didn’t love an excuse to spend time with you. 

He opened the door to the stable and quickly moved shut it behind him, expecting to find you taking saddles off horses. Instead, you damn near slammed into him, your eyes wide, not saying a word as you shoved the door open and took off into the snow. 

“Bambi?” He called after you. You didn’t even slow down. He jogged over to Ellie’s perch and set the food down, a tightness starting to grip his chest. 

“No idea,” Ellie said, not waiting for him to ask. “Patrol came back, said something about some people they found outside… She just said ‘savvy’ and took the fuck off.” 

Joel looked around for a second. Julie was standing next to her horse, a confused look on her face. 

“You found people outside?” Joel asked. 

“Yeah,” she said, still staring at where you’d run out. “Yeah, a group of five. We brought them back…” 

“Where are they?” He asked, fighting to keep his voice calm. 

“The clinic…” 

“Ellie,” he said quickly. “Stay put here, alright? I’m gone more than half an hour, head on home. Mine or hers, don’t want you in that little place for this storm, OK Baby Girl?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded, not giving him shit. She looked concerned, too. “Yeah, OK.” 

He gave her a stiff nod and went out into the building storm, following your footprints to the clinic. 

Joel heard you there before he saw you, your voice pleading and desperate as he shut the wind and snow outside. 

“Anything,” you were begging. “Anything at all, a name, an age, hair color, anything, please…” 

“I’m sorry,” a man whose voice Joel didn’t recognize said. “She did say much before she died, just that there was a girl…” 

Joel found you then, in the same room he’d been in when he’d come in from patrol with a bullet in his leg. 

“Where?” You asked. “Where’d you find her? Did she say where she escaped from, how far she’d come?” 

“We picked them up about 15 miles north east of here,” Fred, one of the men on patrol, said. “Just south of Kelly.” 

“Think she came from a camp ground near there,” the other man said. He was skinny, a patch of frostbite on his nose. “Said something about cabins…” 

“Right,” you nodded. “Right, thank you.” 

You turned and ran smack into Joel’s chest. You barely seemed to register it, hardly even glancing at him before ducking around him and running out the door again. 

“She was asking about a girl,” Fred said quickly. “These folks here, had a woman with them before we found them. Said she escaped raiders, that the raiders had a teenaged girl…” 

“Fuck,” Joel muttered under his breath before looking at the other man. “Thanks, Fred.” 

He didn’t wait for a response, just ducking back into the snow, the wind starting to howl now, running to catch up with you. 

You were on your porch by the time he reached you. You didn’t even seem to be aware that he was following you, you were too focused on something else entirely. You didn’t even bother to take your boots off when you got in the house, just ripping the coat closet inside your door open and pulling out your patrol materials as Joel let himself in. 

“Bambi,” he said gently. You looked up at him for a moment, like you were surprised to find him there before you focused back on your pack, shoving in blankets and flashlights. “Come on, honey…” 

“They’ve got her, Joel,” you said, barely glancing at him before you grabbed your bag and half walked, half ran to your kitchen. “Can’t just leave her out there with them, I…” 

“There’s a snowstorm, Sweetheart,” he said gently, trying to keep his voice calm. “It’s not safe…” 

“Doesn’t matter,” you started stuffing food in your bag, no rhyme or reason to it that Joel could see. 

“Yes, it does,” he said, trying to take the pack from you. You yanked it back, a vicious look in your eyes before you ducked around him. “Baby.” 

“I’m not leaving her to those… those…” your voice cracked. “Those fucking monsters, I’m not, I can’t just leave her, I can’t just abandon her, I…” 

“You getting yourself killed won’t help anybody.” It was getting harder and harder to keep the panic from his voice. He’d never seen you quite like this. Close to it when out on patrol and there were signs that raiders were near, signs of their violence, but he’d always been able to pull you back from the edge. He wasn’t sure he could this time. “Bambi, you can’t…” 

“Yes, I can.” 

You moved around him and he followed. 

“I know you want to help people,” he said. “But you can’t help anyone if you get yourself killed. I know you want to save everyone from going through what you went through…” 

“That’s not what this is,” you said, turning in circles like you were looking for something but you couldn’t place it. 

“Then what is it?” He caught you by the shoulders and looked at you, your eyes wide and panicky. “Tell me, help me understand. When the weather clears, I can go with you and…” 

“It’ll be too late then,” you shook your head, tears starting to swell. “As soon as the snow stops they’re going to leave and it’ll be too late, I’ll never catch them and they’ll still have her and I can’t lose her again, Joel, I can’t, I can’t take it, I can’t do this again, please, don’t ask me to do this again I…” 

“Do what?” He asked, pleading, his grip on you firm. “Let me help you, Baby, please, tell me what’s going on. Who…” 

“My daughter!” You said quickly. Joel froze, his heart pounding against his ribs. “I have a daughter, I have a daughter and if it’s her I… I can’t lose her again, I can’t. I have to go get her…” 

“You…” he breathed. 

“My daughter,” you said, eyes wide. “Please, Joel. I think they have my daughter.” 

*** 

Early May, 2013

You lowered your rifle enough that it was no longer an immediate threat and she relaxed a little, letting the pant leg fall over her ankle again. There was a small cry from the bundle in her arms and you frowned, looking between her and it. She carefully lowered it from her chest, looking down to it. 

“Hey, you’re OK sweet girl,” she said gently. “It’s alright…” 

The bundle fussed but didn’t cry again and she looked back to you. 

“Can I get down?” She asked. “Got a lot to talk about and not a lot of time to do it. Figure I’ve got an hour left. Two, tops.” 

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “Yeah, OK. Let’s talk.” 

You didn’t invite her in, not wanting to deal with the potential hazard of her turning into one of those inhuman things in your house. She didn’t seem to mind. 

Her name, she said, was Laurel. She was about your age, you guessed, with her dark hair in two thick braids, deep brown eyes and rich umber skin. 

“This is Savannah,” she said, tilting the bundle so you could see inside. “She’s nine months old…” 

You looked at her, awed for a moment. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen a baby and you resisted the urge to reach out and run your finger over her chubby, impossibly soft looking cheek. She blinked at you, her brown eyes oddly keen and exacting for a baby, her lashes almost obscenely long. You frowned, leaning in to look closer at her. You knew those impossibly soft, brown eyes set in her lovely russet-hued face. 

“She’s Mark’s,” you said softly, looking up at Laurel. “She’s Mark’s, isn’t she?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, she is.” 

“I…” your voice broke. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know he had someone, I wouldn’t have…” 

“It wasn’t like that,” she cut you off. “My husband died about three years ago. He got hurt, it got infected… Not even the fucking apocalypse kind, just the kind that you can clear up with penicillin if you can find the damn stuff. Mark… we were both lonely, looking for something to make it better for a while. It just kind of happened. She just kind of happened.” 

The baby cooed, stretching and reaching for you. 

“Where is he?” You asked, looking back at Laurel. “What happened to him?” 

“Our settlement got overrun,” she said, her voice suddenly thick. “They came out of nowhere and just… He tried. He tried so, so hard, you should know that he tried. But he got bit, on the neck, trying to protect us and… He told me where to find you. That’s what he did with the last few minutes of his life, he told me where to find you, he told me that you’d take care of us, make sure we survived. He told me to tell you that he loved you and that he wanted to come back to you…” 

You found yourself nodding, tears on your cheeks as you looked into the eyes of the man you loved in his child’s face. 

“He died before I got bit,” she said. “He died thinking we had a shot. I kept her safe, though. She was safe…” 

“You did good,” you said, throat tight. “You really did…” 

“I need your help,” she said before taking a deep breath. 

“Course,” you nodded, tearing your eyes away from Mark’s daughter to look at her. “What…” 

“I need you to take Savannah.” 

You just blinked at her for a moment. “I…” you broke off, shaking your head. “What? I… no, no, I’m not who you want, I don’t…” 

“I don’t have a lot of options,” she said. “I don’t have time to find another person let alone someone I know I can trust. And I know I can trust you with her. Mark loved you and you loved him, you won’t let anything happen to his child.” 

“But I…” you looked back at the baby in her arms. “I don’t know anything about kids, I wouldn’t even know where to start, I don’t…” 

“Please,” she said, her voice breaking. “He wanted you to take care of her. I think… I think part of him knew it would just be her. That’s why he sent me here, to you. He wanted it to be you. He trusted you and he loved you, he wanted her to be with you. Please, I’ll beg if I have to, just please take care of her. Please.” 

You looked at the baby in her arms, at Mark’s eyes with the impossibly long lashes. 

“OK.” 

Laurel held her daughter while she told you everything. You paused her to take some notes when you thought of it, things like a recipe for formula when she refused solids and what to do when she started crying but wouldn’t stop. She told you how much her daughter loved to gnaw on bits of apple and loved to bounce in time to her father’s humming and her birthday - July 20. 

She started twitching more in what felt like no time at all, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. She pressed her lips to her daughter’s forehead. 

“You’ll be OK sweet girl,” she whispered to her. “You’ll be OK. Mama loves you, OK? Try to remember that for me, OK?” She looked up at you. “Will… will you tell her about me? About Mark?” 

You nodded, the pinch of tears tight in your throat. 

“Of course,” you said. “I’ll make sure she knows everything you did for her. She’ll know about you.” 

She nodded, passing you her child. Your child. 

“I’d like to do it myself,” she said, nodding to the gun at your hip. “If that’s OK.” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, adjusting Savannah in your arms and handing Laurel the gun. She took it and walked backwards away from you, her eyes on her daughter. Your daughter. 

“I’ll close my eyes just before,” she said once she was about 20 feet away, still looking at her baby. “Can you cover hers for me? I want to look at her as long as I can but I don’t want her to see…” 

“Yeah,” you nodded again. “I can do that.” 

“Thank you,” she smiled tightly, actually looking at you this time. “I… I know this isn’t what you planned but… It’s easier, knowing she has someone.” 

“I’ll take care of her,” you said. “I’ll love her. I’ll take care of her.” 

Laurel just nodded and looked back at her child, watching her for a moment, the gun in her shaky hand. 

“Mama loves you,” she said softly, raising the gun to her temple and closing her eyes. You quickly pressed Savannah’s face into your chest and held her close. 

Everything was eerily silent for a moment, the longest second of your life, before there was the crack of the gun and the sharp cry of the baby who was all you had left in the world. 

August 2018 

“You have learn this, Savvy.”

“I don’t want to shoot them, Mama,” your daughter looked over at you from her spot on the downed tree, looking at the infected more than 100 feet away through a scope. 

“These are the easiest things you’ll ever have to shoot,” you said gently. “It’s nice to shoot them, you’re making it so they’re not hurting anymore…” 

“But they’re people.” 

Her eyes - her father’s eyes - were so wide. The springs of her curls were bundled back away from her face, a sprinkle of freckles across her nose. 

“I know they look like people,” you ran your hand over the crown of her small head. “But they’re not, not anymore. They’re things that are hurting and the only way to help them is to shoot them. And shooting them keeps you and me safe. Now, you can do this. Do it just like you do at home with the targets.” 

She looked at you, her big eyes watery, before obeying and turning back toward the gun. You watched as she lined up her shot and took a deep breath, exhaling before firing. 

Her shot went a little wide, catching the infected on the arm. It whipped its head around and shrieked before running for you. 

“Mama!” 

“It’s alright,” you said, looking down your own rifle for a moment before firing and hitting it in the head. It dropped like a stone. “See? All OK. This is why we learn.”

“I’m sorry,” her voice was thick and trembling and you looked over at her, tears streaming down her face. “I tried hard, I promise…” she hiccuped and gulped in air and you set your rifle down and sat up before pulling her against you. 

“You did so good,” you kissed the top of her head. “Don’t be sorry, Honey, you did so good, I’m so proud of you.”

“But I didn’t kill them,” she pulled her face from your chest, her lower lip quivering. “I did it wrong and…” 

“You’ll get better,” you said gently. “No one is perfect when they’re learning. This is just to make sure that you’re safe. I’ll always protect you but it’s good for you to know how to protect yourself, too. This is just in case, OK?” 

She nodded against you and you held her until she stopped crying. When she calmed, you ran your thumbs over her cheeks and kissed her small forehead, wishing you didn’t have to teach her these things. If you could just shelter her away from the world - from infected, from the people who has found power because of the infected - then it would all be OK. She wouldn’t need to know how to kill. It could be just you and her, growing things and raising horses and reading by the fire, until the end of time. 

But the world, you knew, was not so kind. 

“Want to go pick out some books?” You asked gently. She nodded and the two of you got up and you took her hand, leading her to the library. 

In the more than five years you’d had Savvy, she had become your entire world. Everything you did, you did for her. To keep her safe, to make her happy, to teach her. You’d known nothing about children when Laurel brought her to you. The first night, you’d held her close while you both cried and you prayed to a god you’d never been sure existed that you would do right by her.

Loving her came easy. Living for her was harder. 

But you fell into it eventually, guiding her through the world as it was now as best you could. If you found a family near your territory, you’d watch them from afar and, once you knew it was safe, bring Savvy to introduce her, give her a chance to know someone besides yourself. You taught her how to read, how to count, how to skin a rabbit. You had no idea if it was the right thing but you hoped it would be enough that, when she was older, she would survive if something happened to you. That’s all that mattered, that she would be OK. 

“Mama?” She asked, setting her picture book on her legs as you browsed the shelves for more books on home schooling and small scale farming.

“Yes baby?” 

“What else would I need to shoot?” 

You frowned and looked down at her, your hand on the spine of a book. 

“What?” 

“Well, you said that the not people are the easiest things I would have to shoot,” she said, face serious. “So… what else would I have to shoot?” 

“I don’t think you’ll like shooting animals much,” you said and she crinkled her nose. “But you’ll probably have to at some point.” 

“But I like animals,” she pouted. 

You smiled. 

“I know you do.” 

“What else?” She asked, still peering up at you. 

You sighed. 

“Sometimes…” you turned your attention back to the books. “Sometimes you’ll have to shoot a person.” 

Her wide eyes somehow grew wider, a look of horror on her face. 

“But…” her little voice broke. “But I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “But sometimes we have to.” 

“Why?” 

“Because,” you looked down to her. “There are things in this world that want to hurt you and you need to know how to hurt them first.” 

“But you’re here,” she said. She was so young, so small. You knelt, getting down on her level. 

“You still need to know how,” you said. “I will do everything I can to protect you but I might fail. You need to know how to destroy them before they destroy you because they will. They will destroy every part of you they can touch if they have the chance. Don’t give them the chance.” 

She considered that for a moment, her face very serious. 

“Does it hurt?” She asked, looking up at you. 

You reached down at cupped her cheek.

“Yes,” you said quietly. “Yes, it does.” 

Her eyes were wide and soft and deep and you wanted, more than anything, to keep her safe. 

“But I’ll take care of you,” you said, stroking her soft skin with your thumb. “For as long as I’m alive, I’ll take care of you.” 

September 15, 2023 

“Mom?” 

You looked up from where you were working at skinning a rabbit. There was a glow in your front window, a hold over from when Savvy was even younger and you had to leave to go check on the horses before bed. She got scared one night when she woke up and found that you weren’t in the dark cabin. Ever since, you always left the electric lantern on when you left in the evenings, even though she said she didn’t need it anymore. It was just enough to work by as the sun got lower outside. 

“Yeah?”

“What…” she paused, an odd look on her face. “What’s in Gattling’s mouth?” 

The dog was hovering behind Savvy’s legs and you leaned around from your position on a tree stump, trying to get a look at her. You frowned, not able to make it out in the low light, and set the rabbit and your knife down, wiping your hands on a rag tucked into your belt.  

Gattling’s tail wagged as you approached, her head low and you squatted down to be on her level, angling her head toward the house so her muzzle wasn’t in shadow. Her snout was red with blood, something dangling from her jaws. You held your palm out flat. 

“Gattling, release.” 

She obediently dropped it in your hand with a sickening splat. It took you a moment to realize that it was a pinky finger. 

“Mom?” Savvy’s voice was shaky. You dropped the finger where you stood and heard the crack of a gunshot in the distance. 

“We have to move.” 

You grabbed her arm and pulled her in the house, Gattling trotting close behind. 

“What’s happening?” She asked, looking back over her shoulder. “Mom, what’s…” 

“Get packed,” you said, grabbing a pack and thrusting at her before running to the dresser in the corner. You shrugged out of the shirt you were wearing and traded it for the one you’d worn when you fled the ranch 20 years earlier, not willing to leave Justin’s shirt behind. “Some clothes, first aid, batteries, flashlights, all three kinds of ammo, sleeping bag.” 

You went to the kitchen and started grabbing things you’d already preserved. Jerky, dried fruit, some seeds. Most of the canteens in the house were full and you grabbed a few. You grabbed the pistol, the shot gun and the rifles. You set it all out on the table and looked over to your daughter who was obediently filling her pack. 

“Leave room for this,” you said, taking your rifle from the pile. “Meet me by the horses as quick as you can. Turn out the lantern on your way.” 

She just nodded. You sprinted for the cabin you’d turned into a stable. Nike was huffed at your arrival and you grabbed her tack and saddled her up as quickly as you could, making sure there was room to add basic supplies. Savvy ran into the pen just as you led Nike and Perseus into the middle of it. 

“Long guns,” you held your hand out as you tightened down straps of the saddle. She handed you the shotgun first and you tucked it into a strap on the saddle. The rifle came next. You stepped back and looked at it for a moment. 

“OK,” you said turning back to your daughter, looking her over. She’d gotten so tall, she was only a few inches shorter than you now, you didn’t even need to stoop to press a kiss to her forehead. “Want you to head north, understand?” 

“What are you talking about?” She asked as you took her arm and guided her alongside the horse. “Mom, you’re coming with me, I’ll just follow you, I’ll just…” 

“I’ll get to you when I can,” you said. She shook her head, her eyes wide. 

“No,” she grabbed your arms. “No, you can’t, you can’t just leave me, you can’t…” 

“I’m not leaving you,” you held her face in your hands, looked into her eyes. She had her father’s eyes. “I’m not, OK? I will find you. I will always find you, sweet girl, I will always protect you. That’s what I’m going to do, OK? I’m going to buy you time. Cut north, stick to the woods, off the trails. You know things here. Go out of the way, work your way around the long way to the library. Meet me there in three days, it should be safe…” 

“Three days?” She gaped at you. “No, I can’t…” 

“Yes you can,” you said, firm enough that you believed it, too. “Yes you can. I’ve taught you everything I know, you can make it. It’s just three days, you’ll be OK. You’re so strong and you’re so smart, you’re going to be OK. I will always find you. I will always protect you, I will always keep you safe. I promise.” 

You pulled her tight to you and kissed her temple. 

“I love you,” you breathed, pulling back to look at her face. “More than anything, I love you. I’ll see you soon, OK? Ride through the night, switch horses at dawn and keep riding until tomorrow night. You can do this.” 

“I can do this,” she repeated. “I can do this.” 

You looked to the dog at your feet, her tail wagging and her muzzle bloody. 

“Gattling,” you said. Her ears perked up. “Savvy.” 

She immediately went to your daughter’s side, ready to protect her. 

You boosted Savvy onto the horse, taking a final look at her. 

“Just three days, right Mom?” 

You swallowed, hard, before nodding. 

“Just three days. Be safe. Be smart. I’ll see you soon.” 

You didn’t have the luxury of watching her ride away. The second her, Nike and Perseus were clear of the paddock, you ran to saddle up Hercules. 

You needed to buy her time. 

October 13, 2023

You were still paying for your escape. 

It was hard to keep track of time. You were with Mitchum and his crew about two weeks the first time. That’s what it felt like, anyway. You were pretty sure it had been about half as long since they got you back. It was hard to tell. You were so panicked, in so much pain that time stretched and expanded and every hour that passed was an hour that you were separated from your daughter and you needed to get to her, you had to. She was just 11 years old and the world was not kind to girls. You’d taught her everything you knew but you had to get back to her, you didn’t want her to have to hurt and kill. 

When you’d escaped, you’d done nothing but search for her. You went to the library, tried to track where you thought she’d have come from but it had been weeks. There was no trail left to follow. You were about to return to your cabin to check there when Mitchum’s men found you again. You still had no idea where Savvy was.

You’d promised to take care of her. You’d promised her, you’d promised the woman who had given her to you a decade earlier. You’d promised. 

You had to get back to her. 

They’d chained you to a wall this time but you thought you might be able to pull the bolt out of the wood if you worked at it diligently enough. You pried at it until your nails were bloody and you kept going. You were covered in blood already, anyway. It was sticky on your skin where it had flowed from the cut on your head where your face had been slammed into the floor as one of Mitchum’s men had taken you from behind while you were on your knees. It had been a steady drip from inside of you since the first time Mitchum forced himself on you when you were brought back, whatever injury there was not given time to heal. The raiders seemed to like it when you bled on them. It even coated part of your arm where one man had cut you when trying to control you, not happy with your lack of compliance as he hurt you. A little more as you tried to pry yourself free wasn’t going to draw attention. 

The door slammed into the wall without warning and you jumped, shocking back from the wall. The man standing there smirked, stalking over to you. 

“Getting ideas are we?” He sneered. He didn’t wait for a response. “Thought you’d have learned your fuckin’ lesson last time…” 

He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the cuff that held you before pulling you roughly to your feet. He didn’t give you any clothes, he just pulled you, naked, out to the circle of men around a campfire. Your heart sped up, tried to count them. You weren’t sure you could survive being at the mercy of the more than two dozen who were here, not at one time. He threw you into the dirt and you caught yourself on your hands and knees. 

“Here’s my favorite little bitch,” Mitchum stalked forward. You sat back on your heels and crossed your arms over your chest, trying to protect what you could. “How have you liked being back home? We keepin’ you entertained?” 

A few of the men laughed. You swallowed and peered around, hoping for something you could take advantage of, just one open space, one unguarded moment and you could escape. For good this time. You could do that, you could escape and figure out where you were and then find Savvy. 

“Figured out what you were hidin’ back in that homestead of yours,” Mitchum said, a smirk on his voice. You looked at him, eyes wide. Your stomach dropped and he laughed. “Didn’t think you’d like that. Can see why you were workin’ so hard now, she sure was a pretty little thing.” 

“Fuck you,” you spat. 

He laughed. 

“That can be arranged,” he said. “Fucked that girl of yours, too. Broke her in real good…” 

You were on your feet before you fully realized what you were doing, running for him. You grabbed at his face, snarling and grasping as you sank your bloody nails into his skin. You dug deep and he punched you in the stomach as one of his men pulled you back, forcing you to the ground. 

“I’ll kill you!” You shrieked. “I’ll fucking kill you!” 

He stalked forward and punched you across the face before grabbing a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look at him. You felt blood on your teeth and you wished it was his. You wanted to rip his throat out like an animal, wanted to claw and bite at him until he succumbed. 

“I wanted to keep the both of you,” he said, holding your hair tight in his fist, fingers against your scalp. “Figured you’d be a lot more fun with her life on the line. Too bad she couldn’t take it.” 

The world tilted on its axis. You hadn’t eaten in days but you still felt like you were going to be sick, like everything inside of you, the blood and the viscera that made you a living being, was going to come up. 

“Oh yeah,” he smirked. “Should’ve probably been more careful with her but it was just so much fun to hear her beg for her mama…” 

“You’re a liar,” you hissed through clenched teeth. “A fucking liar!” 

He kept his eyes on you and he whistled before forcing you to look at the fire. Two men stepped forward, each carrying burlap sacks. One was much larger than the other. 

“Show ‘er.” 

The first man, the one with the large bag, turned it over. A horse head fell out of the sack, landing on the dirt with a wet thud. It took you a second to recognize her, separate from her body, but it was Nike. You screamed, the sound clawing its way up from your chest and you instinctively reached for her only to have Mitchum rip you back by your hair. 

“Wanna see what’s in the other bag?” He pressed his mouth against your ear as you sobbed. “Decided to keep her head, thought I should pass it around, see if it’s as good cold…” 

You strained in his hold, trying to shake your head. You couldn’t get yourself to form words. There was the distinct feeling that someone was cracking you open, prying apart your chest and pulling your organs out one by one. They didn’t belong to you anymore. You weren’t sure they ever really had, they were hers and she was gone.

You couldn’t see her like that, see just her head, like she had only ever been parts and pieces to begin with.  

“Please,” you managed through the gasping, racking sobs. “Please, please, no, I’ll do whatever you want, whatever…” 

Mitchum smiled. 

“Good.” 

The pain of the brand barely registered in your mind, even as your body jerked with it. Everything seemed dulled and numbed. Time slowed and stretched and, for a while, the only thing that your body seemed to have space for was the agonizing pain of losing something you were never built to lose. 

It was a year before there was room for anything else. 

Early April, 2027 

“Bambi…” 

“Move, Joel.” 

You shoved past him. You’d need a sleeping bag, two sleeping bags, actually. An extra pair of boots, she probably didn’t have those. She’d have out grown the last ones she had, she would be 14 now, she’d be even taller, have bigger feet, longer legs. They didn’t give you clothes when you were with them, you doubted it was different for her. 

First aid, that you’d need. 

“You can’t do this, Baby,” he was following close behind you. 

“Yes, I can.” 

“You’re gonna get yourself fucking killed,” there was a strain in his voice. “Who knows what you’ll be walking into out there, how many there’ll be, how armed they’ll fuckin’ be, what they’ll do to you if they get your hands on you…” 

“I have to try.” 

You didn’t have a gun here. You’d have to get one, you were pretty sure Maria would give you one if you told her why you needed it. 

“Just…” Joel sounded desperate. “Just wait, until after the storm, just wait, I’ll go with you, we’ll look, we’ll…” 

“It’ll be too late,” you shook your head. “Someone got out, as soon as the weather clears they’re gonna move and we’ll lose them, it has to be now.” 

“Have you seen how shit’s pickin’ up out there?” He came around in front of you, taking you by the shoulders. “Baby, the wind is gonna knock you off your damn horse, you can’t help her if you’re dead, please, I’m begging you, please…” 

“What would you do?” You asked. “If it was Sarah, if it was Ellie. Would you sit here and wait? Or would you go get her?” 

He froze, looking at you. 

Your knife. You’d need your knife. You went to get it but Joel stopped you, his hand on your elbow. 

“Bambi,” he said quietly. “You can’t know that it’s her.” 

“It could be,” you said. “Joel…” 

“It’s been years,” he whispered. “Baby, it’s been years, there’s… I’m so sorry but she’s… They wouldn’t have let her live this long, she couldn’t have survived this long, she’s gone, I’m so sorry…” 

You shook your head. You had that feeling again, like the one you had that day around the fire when Mitchum had told you he’d killed her, the feeling that your whole self was being ripped apart. 

But you’d never seen that she was gone. You never held her body, never saw the life leave her eyes. You didn’t know that she was gone. She could be alive. She could. 

“You don’t know that,” you said, your voice thick. “You don’t…” 

“You barley survived,” he said softly. “You, the strongest fucking person I know and you damn near died. A teenager couldn’t have survived that, Baby, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry and…” 

“No,” you snapped, swallowing back your tears. “You don’t know, you don’t know them like I do…” 

“I do,” he cut you off. “Sweetheart, I am begging you, stay here. Please. Don’t get yourself killed, if it’s her we will find her as soon as it’s safe…” 

“You don’t know!” You pushed him back. He was costing you time, time you didn’t have. Savvy was out there, she was out there alone and afraid and you were going to find her. “Let me go, Joel. I know them, you don’t understand them, you can’t understand them…” 

“I understand them because I used to be one of them!” 

You froze. He was watching you, his eyes wide and desperate as he panted for breath. Your heart was pounding, there was a high pitched whine in your ears, something like a siren or when you first came to Jackson and could hear the electricity in the walls. 

“What?” You whispered, suddenly keenly aware of how close he was to you, of his hand on you. You could feel the outline of his fingers, each individual callus distinct against your skin. 

“I used to be one,” he said softly. “A… a raider, I used to be one. It was a long time ago but I know how they think, I know how they operate and… I’m sorry but if they’ve had her for three and a half years? She’s gone, Sweetheart. There’s nothing left for you to save…” 

You thought Joel was still talking but you couldn’t hear him. It was like you’d just jumped into deep water, the cold of it shocking and painful and the rush of it drowning out everything you knew. You couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe, could barely see. 

Joel. Your Joel, the person you trusted more than any other, was a raider. He was like them, like the men who had torn you away from your daughter, who had raped you, who had tortured you, who now might be doing the same to your child right now and Joel knew them because he was like them because he had done those things, too. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

You were suddenly in your body again, out of that deep dark water and back in your house. Joel’s hands were on you and it was like they were on fire, you could feel it through your skin into your muscle, your bone, down into the marrow of you it hurt where his hands were on you. 

“Baby,” he said gently and you forced yourself to look at his face. You couldn’t breathe. You’d kissed him, told him things you’d never told anyone, all but begged him to touch you and he was just like them. 

“Don’t touch me!” You screamed it and he ripped his hands away like you’d burned him. You could breathe again and gulped in air, reaching for the back of your couch. You needed something to keep you standing, you felt like you were going to collapse or throw up. Joel’s hands were up, like he was waiting to catch you if you fell. “Don’t touch me, don’t you fucking touch me!” 

“You’re OK,” he said, keeping his hands off of you but stepping closer. “I’ve got you, you’re OK…” 

“Get away from me!” You backed away from him, looking for the best way out of here. You had to get away from him, he wasn’t safe, he was just like them and you had to get away from him, you couldn’t be anywhere near him. “Get away!” 

You said it again and again and again and you kept backing away from him until you were pressed against the wall. Joel stayed where he was and, when you were able to look at him again, it looked like he was in pain. 

“I’m away,” he said softly, his hands up. “Not gonna touch you, Sweetheart…” 

“Don’t call me that,” you were sobbing and you weren’t sure when you’d started. 

“What?” He whispered. 

“Don’t fucking call me that!” You bit out, staying back against the wall. He was so big, he could overpower you, he could hurt you, it would be easy for him. “Don’t call me that, not when you’re like them, you’re just like them, I trusted you and you’re just like them…” 

“No,” he shook his head, voice thick. He closed the gap between you quickly and you shocked back from him but he didn’t seem to notice, taking you in his arms and clutching onto you. But his touch made your skin crawl, everywhere his body was against your own screaming in panic. “No, not like that, I never… I never did what they did to you, Sweetheart, please, you have to believe me, I never did that, never. I just…” 

“I trusted you!” You sobbed, your legs collapsing from beneath you. Joel clung to you, keeping you from falling to the floor, but you hated his hands on you, suddenly feeling like hands you’d hated so much. You twisted and fought to get away but he just held onto you. “I trusted you, you made me love you, I let you inside of me and you’re like them, you’re just like them…” 

“I’m sorry, Baby,” his voice was thick and wet. “I’m so sorry, I wish I could take it back, wish I could change it…” 

You managed to firmly plant your feet on the ground and you shoved against his broad, firm chest, desperate for distance from him. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” 

He let you go and you scrambled back from him, fighting to breathe. He was looking at you, tears in his eyes. 

“Baby, please,” he whispered. “Please just… let me take care of you, I understand what…” 

“I don’t want anything to do with you,” your voice shook. 

“Bambi…” 

“Get out,” you managed. 

He said your name. Your real name. 

“Get out!” You screamed, so loud and harsh you felt it ripping out of you. “Get out of here, get away from me, get out!” 

“I’ll go!” He kept his hands up. “Just gotta promise me…” 

“I don’t gotta do shit for you,” you shook your head. 

“Promise me you won’t do anything that will get you hurt,” he said softly, He was crying, too. “Please, I’m begging you, I’ll do whatever you want just promise….” 

“I won’t, now get out!” You yelled. “Get out, get away from me!” 

“I’m going,” he said quickly. “Please… Please, be safe, please.” 

You watched as he made his way to your door but he stopped and looked back at you. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For… for all of it, I’m so sorry.” 

He closed the door behind him and you collapsed to the ground and sobbed, clutching onto yourself like it was going to keep your body intact but it still felt like you were going to shatter into a million pieces and there would be no one to help put you together again. 

You weren’t sure how long you were there on the floor but, eventually, you were able to make yourself move again. 

You thought of Savvy, of your daughter, of where she might be, of how you’d promised to keep her safe. You got up off the floor, body numb, and grabbed your pack before going out into the snow. 

Next Chapter

A/N: Alright, yell at me. I'm ready for it.

There's a lot in this chapter, I know. It's long, it's rough, it's been coming for a while. We first got a hint of Savvy in chapter 4 when Bambi thought about Joel's possible relationship to Ellie and she's been hinted at regularly since. She's why Bambi knew to use ginger to help William's teething, she's why Bambi was specifically grateful to have another adult around when Marisa showed up, she's why Bambi keeps searching every time there's even a hint of raider activity.

And after everything she's been through, she can't just blindly accept Joel's past, that's way WAY too much for anyone who's survived what she has to bear.

I hope this didn't come completely out of the blue and I hope you're still up for reading more of this story. I hope it'll be worth it in the end. I think it will be.

Thank you for being here. This is a story that I feel like deserves to be told, even the dark parts of it, and I'm so thankful you're along for the ride. Love you ❤️

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Hi I wanted to tell you that I love how you write! And since the requests for the Headcanons are open I take this opportunity! \ ^ ° ^ / A Headcanons with Leona, Malleus, Azul and Vil who (accidentally) break something dear to MC, something that cannot be replaced with anything else or bought back, because it has a great emotional bond and is a unique thing for MC (from the simple necklace, ring to the music box or whatever you like best), so they have to actually find a way to fix it, because even if MC told them he doesn't care, it was really bad. Sorry for my poor English! I love you a kiss!

Azul Ashengrotto: 

Azul dreaded having to tell you about the accident; as easy as it would be to blame it on Jade and Floyd, it wouldn’t have been very honest. And while Azul doesn’t think his honesty was a defining trait, he always fumbled through his lies with you to the point he might as well just tell the truth. He does try to get it repaired before letting you know about it, hoping to restore it to its previous state by any means necessary. If he doesn’t have to put you through unnecessary heartbreak, than that’s better than just outright telling you the truth right away, right?

Leona Kingscholar: 

Leona can see the hurt written across your face. Your words didn’t match your expression, the smile not reaching your eyes—you must’ve been a fool if you thought you could pull one over on him. Yet he didn’t call it out, knowing his selfishness was the cause, and he kept it to himself without another comforting word. He was the type who preferred actions over words so he began to look into getting your precious item repaired, hoping if he bestowed that upon you (along with a string of other ‘forgive me’ gifts) you’d find it in your heart to accept his (non-spoken) apology.

Malleus Draconia: 

There are many things that crumble like paper when they’re in Malleus’ hands and this accident was from another magical outburst. The concept of this item being more important to you than him, reminding him that you came from another world, he had a moment of weakness where he got too caught up in his thoughts. A simple apology would never work, nor would explaining his thought process, and he could bear to think about how hurt you’d be to know he destroyed something precious to you. After hours of attempts he managed to restore it with magic, explaining to you (with a bit of a smug look, though you don’t know why) that your object was new and improved since it had a piece of his magic in it now as well.

Vil Schoenheit: 

Vil isn’t normally this careless, especially not with others precious objects. He had several things that were very dear to him and he knew he’d be hurt if you fumbled around with them without a care in the world. It wasn’t on purpose but accidents did happen, and this was something that wasn’t so easily repaired. Even Rook had stated it was quite a unique item, and it might be a bit hard to find somewhere that might restore it, but it was worth a try. In the meantime Vil offers a sincere apology, telling you that he planned on making it up to you.

[thelastwarriornun]

7. To shut them up 🫠

Without the burden of duty, Beatrice is prone to sleeping in, Ava usually the first to wake up, only to burrow into Beatrice’s side until she’s ready to greet the day. Today is different. Ava stretches to find the other half of the bed cool, empty, and grumbles at her misfortune. So, dejectedly, Ava crawls from the bed, pausing just long enough to steal Beatrice’s button up from the night before, doing up just enough buttons to give the impression of modesty. 

They’ve been here long enough for Ava to memorize which wooden panels creak beneath her feet, and which path is silent as she slips through the hall. Beatrice is at the table, notebook in hand, and Ava swears she’s gotten the jump on her when she sees the smallest inclination of Beatrice’s head. “I made coffee. I haven’t made breakfast. I was waiting to see if you wanted to eat here or grab something at that cafe around the corner.”

“Fuck.” Ava deflates, realizing the game is lost. 

“Language,” Beatrice hums, lacking her previous reproach. It’s hard to muster the same level of admonishment now. Especially when Ava can recall with perfect clarity, Beatrice cursing beneath her just the night before. 

Ava slips her arms around Beatrice, smiles when a hand lifts to wrap around her arm, and Beatrice tips her head back to rest against Ava’s chest. “What gave me away?” 

“The shirt,” Beatrice pauses, turning to press a kiss to Ava’s forearm. “And I heard you huffing when you realized I’d already gotten up.” 

Ava can’t help the scoff that escapes her. Beatrice’s smile shifts, devolves into something wider, maybe even bordering on smug, and Ava can’t help the way her heart seems to miss a beat in her chest. This version of Beatrice, lighter and flirtatious, is something Ava’s not sure she can ever get used to. 

It’s easy to loosen Beatrice’s hold, removing the notebook from her hands and dropping it dramatically on the table behind them, before slipping into Beatrice’s lap, her hands coming to rest atop Beatrice’s shoulders. “So you’re saying I should’ve come out here naked? If that’s what you wanted all you have to do is ask Bea.” 

And Beatrice has changed, but she’s only human, and Ava’s had just a bit more practice. Her cheeks are crimson, her own hands having come to rest on Ava’s hips, thumbs just brushing above the waistband of Ava’s boxers, flex against her skin. “You asked what gave you away. I was just– I’m not– there’s nothing wrong with–” 

Ava lets her ramble for a moment. Enjoys the flush in her cheeks, and the frantic edge in her tone, before she takes mercy on her leaning down to press their lips together. 

Another change. It used to take Beatrice a moment to catch up. The final dregs of her vows, and habit a difficult thing to break. Somewhere in the normalcy of their shared lives that had changed. 

It’s Ava who’s left flustered, as one of Beatrice’s hands slips along her back coming to rest at the base of her neck deepening the kiss. Beatrice who nips at Ava’s bottom lip, licking into her mouth before retreating leaving her dazed, chest heaving.

“You never answered my question,” Beatrice's tone is steady, and it's unfair really how easy it is for Beatrice to reorient herself. 

Ava blinks, tries to think about anything other than the feel of Beatrice’s thumb brushing along her hip, or the firm press of her palm, now resting just above the halo. “You asked a question?” 

Beatrice smirks, not totally dissimilar from the way she looks just before she pins Ava when they spar. Her hand slips from beneath Ava’s shirt and finds its way to trace her thumb along the curve of Ava’s jaw. Checkmate. Ava can practically hear it, when she tilts her head into Beatrice’s touch. Letting out a breathy sigh as her skin tingles under Beatrice’s gentle touch. 

“Did you want to go to the cafe-” Beatrice’s voice trails off, leaning forward to brush her lips against Ava’s neck. “Or did you want to stay in?” 

Ava tries to formulate an answer. Tries to ignore the pounding in her chest, or the heat pulsing through her, as Beatrice presses her lips along the curve of Ava’s neck. It’s only when she stops again, Ava’s fingers somehow having tangled in the hair at the base of her neck, an eyebrow arched expectantly that Ava remembers she’s meant to have an answer. 

“Honestly, who needs breakfast?” 

“Well actually breakfast is the most important meal–”

Ava only feels a little bad when she cuts off what she’s certain would’ve been a very informative lecture on the science behind eating breakfast, pulling Beatrice’s lips firmly against her own.

[random-twst-things]

Question - of all the characters, who: doesn't know twst isn't a dating sim, knows it's not but aims for it anyway, knows and suffers, and doesn't know - just vibing? Feel free to add more categories

Oooh! That's an interesting concept. I had to think about this for a while bc I wanted this to be the most accurate I could make it. And I'm SO sorry this took so long, I got busy with school and first semester tests I'm so sorry 😭

Contains: Tiny(very tiny) bit of possessiveness(Malleus) angst(?)(idia, jamil, azul, cater, sebek) most certainly some spelling mistakes here and there (English is not my first language I'm srry 😭)

Doesn't know twst isn't a dating sim:

Riddle: Did you really think Riddle would even know what a dating sim is? Absolutely not, especially not with the way he grew up. He has no idea why he loves you (he does, he's just in denial) he's so shy trying to pursue you, he has this act he tries (tires) to put up but it's so easy to see the effect you have on him. He's not as strict on you about the rules as he is the rest, he seems to have developed a soft.

Trey: (I'm so sorry, I don't know much about the guy 😭) Gentleman. That's its. Ty for coming to my TED talk. Okay, but srsly, hear me out on this; He's a whole gentleman when he has a crush. He definitely uses his great baking skills to his advantage with you. He definitely sees how others look and act around you, I mean, who wouldn't when it comes to you. Wanna learn how to bake? He'll gladly teach you and take this as a chance to get to know you even more.

Ace(1): I honestly don't think he'd know twst isn't a dating sim. He's mosy definitely smug about being close to you, after all he is your best friend, right? Bro thinks he has rizz but he's just a fumbling mess when he tries it just makes him look clumsy (sorry ace)

Deuce: he's so sweet. He's glad he's one of your best friends and get to be close to you without worry. Part of his delinquent side does come out a little when it comes to you, it's not directed to you! Not at all! More like directed towards those who did you wrong and didn't even try to say sorry. Don't worry, he won't do anything to reckless! He still wants to be an honor student after all. He's gonna do his very best for his mom and you.

Ruggie: oui, he's hard to tell on what category. He likes you. He likes how you are. It never bothered him one bit that your home was semi broken. God, the things he would think and want to say to you (He's romantic like that yall), but he's too shy to actually say (yall he's making me blush eeeee)

Kalim: he's too busy hanging out and being happy with you he doesn't even notice. All he knows is that he loves you and wishes to show you the world (see what I did there? Eh? Eeeh?) He's not at all shy about the compliments he gives you, he's really creative with them, tho. Invites you to every single one of his parties and makes you take home as much food as you want.

Epel: He's going for you most definitely, even with all these people. He does his very best to look strong and manly in front of you, that it's cute. He doesn't really mind if you call him cute or pretty, if that's what you like, but he's still gonna act (only a little) like he hates it, but he never tells you to stop.

Floyd(1): Two words; good luck. This guy will not try to hide his favoritism with you. He will not hide his desire to steal you or keep you from the rest. His very (very) open about it, too. It doesn't even matter if he knew twst wasn't a dating sim. He's still gonna be the same. You don't mind his (bone crushing) hugs? He's allowed to squish you? ....you shouldn't have said that bc now every time he sees you he squeezes you so tight he cracks your sore muscles like those chiropractors on TikTok.

Jade: hmmmm (good luck, again) He's a gentleman, but in an offsetting way, yk? He's the silent one. The type to smile when provoked and just bc, it's hard to tell the difference but its there. He's a watcher. He knows almost all of your special interests (Don't ask how he knows that). Putting the creepy aura behind, he's a nice guy (?) He'll most definitely rant about his mushrooms to you. You don't mind? You like hearing about his mushrooms? Oh my.... good luck

Malleus(?): I feel like he does, but doesn't at the same time? I don't think he knows what a dating sim is, but he notices the way the others act and look at you. He notices the way things seem... different. But he isn't one to back down when something precious to him is to be taken away from him. He is a dragon, after all. (Not that he'd let that happen to begin with, you'll love him dearly in the end....won't you?) Talks to you about his gargoyles, all the different facts. You dont mind the long talks about it? Youre asking to know more?? Oh great sevens....

Silver: (AWWWWW) he's so sweet. He tries so hard to show he likes you but in such a subtle way that it's hard to catch on it even notice. He's a gentleman at heart. He loves how understanding you are of his sudden sleepiness and tiredness and don't get angry at him for something he can't control as much as he'd love to. You wanna watch over him while he sleeps? Why? Oh, so nothing harms him when he's asleep? Oh dear... His heart is beating so fast he might not even be able to sleep now (he does anyways, but with tinted cheeks)

Knows it's not but aims for it anyway:

Leona: he's the type of guy to somehow always know something you don't expect him to know. Anyways. The dude could care less if the game wasn't designed to be a dating sim. He's still going for it in his own way. Unlike the past, this is something he can't give up on. you're something he can't give up on. But oh, is this man so so smug when he uses you as a pillow.

Vil: it's either Rook told him or he figured it out on his own before Rook told him. Even if twst wasn't meant to be a dating sim with love, he will turn zero into something like he's always done. He will by any means do his utmost and his best to pursue you all while being himself. He cherishes the moments you have alone when he's giving you advice on how to take care of your skin. The small and soft lingering touches when he teaches you how to apply moisturizer correctly.

Rook: Okay, he's bound to find out twst isn't a dating sim. He's a sharp guy. Even with the knowledge of knowing twst isn't a dating sim, it isn't going to stop him from pursuing you. He himself finds this situation funny with how many hearts you've captured even with twst not supposedly being capable of that. Oh? How did you know he was watching you? You could feel him? Oh dear trickster you sure do know how to pull his heart strings.

Floyd(2): Good luck once again. I couldn't decide whether he knew or not. But! Same situation regardless. Instead, tho, he's a bit more.... more him? He's gonna find this all so much more hilarious and funny.

Lilia: This cheeky old man most definitely knows. He's seen dating Sims and knows what they are. Just bc twst isn't designed to be a dating sim doesn't mean he can't aim for it. He's not at all shy when it comes to pursuing you. He's been alive for hundreds of years, what's there to be afraid of?

Knows and suffers:

Cater: (I'm so sorry, I had to 1.0) cay-cay gonna slay-slay, more like cry-cry. I feel like he's a "2nd male lead syndrome" type of guy, yk?? It's a bit hard to explain, but yeah. Anyways. 2nd male lead, we all know how that ends, don't we? (Hint: tears) He's cautious when it comes to love, hes scared of it at times. He does know he loves you but he's going to watch you being happy instead. He wishes you the best, truly! (he hates the little feeling in his chest when he says those words bc his words and actions say their happy for you, but the little feeling in his chest says otherwise)

Azul: he loves you, he really does, but would you? He knows he isn't the ideal guy. He knows he's done some shady things. And most of all, he knows (thinks) that with all these suitable people for you, he'd never be considered a choice. So he's content with just watching you from afar living a happy life. Every time you enter the lounge he finds himself between wanting to hide away or catering to your every need but he knows that if he gets any closer to you it'll just hurt more in the future.

Jamil: He's a smart guy, he knows. He also knows that he doesn't stand a chance with all these suitors going after you. A prince, an heir, a model/actor, knights, etc. He'd like to think he did stand a chance, but standing next to them, he can't help but let his insecurities get the better of him. But, oh... when you offer to help him with his chores he can't help but think that maybe... Just maybe there's a chance.

Idia: he most definitely knows, I mean, look at the way they all look at you!! He knows and suffers with the thought that he'd never stand a chance. You're being pursued by all these SSR characters!!! Surely you'd never pick someone like him when you could do so much better. He'd stuff himself in his room even more (if that's even possible) He'd avoid you even with his tablet. Every time he rejects the offer when you invite him to play video games he hates himself even more. Stop giving him false hope... Please

Sebek: (I'm so sorry 2.0) Malleus. That's why. His master, he can't seem to accept that his master would aim for a human like you, but he's hurt. He doesn't know why he feels that way. He doesn't understand why his chest hurts when he sees malleus and you interacting in such a way. (He'll begin to understand after a while, WHILE) once he realizes why it hurts, he is distraught. He won't show it, but you can see the subtle changes in his composure every now and then. He knows he has to let you go. He feels as if he has lost you. Lost something that wasn't even his to begin with and never would have been.

Doesn't know and/or just vibes:

Crowley: Dudes clueless

Grimm: he's just confused as to why everyone is after his henchmen. He doesn't know what a dating sim is either.

Ace(2): he's having the time of his life seeing you struggle with all this. He has absolutely no idea why so many are after you, but he's just gonna watch as they all struggle. (He knows why they are after you, after all his best friend in kinda cool, but he'd never admit to that) also has a laugh with watching riddle try (don't tell riddle he said that tho)

Ruggie(2): another that's gonna have the time of his life with this. Laughing like the hyena he is, watching the struggle (especially Leona's struggle 💀)

Jack: He's just vibing. This whole situation is a mess, really. He watches out for you most of the time just in case. (*caugh* floyd *cough*) He's a bit worried for you ngl so he wants to teach you self defense just in case, if you already know how to handle yourself thats great! (*cough* floyd *cough)

Bonus

He does know and tries to be supportive

Ortho: he knows. His brother told him in his ramblings, and he noticed that idia is thinking smth negative. He tries to encourage him in every possible way to just try, that there is a chance, but nothing seems to work.

[eddsworld-nonsense]

What does anger and cooling down after look like for the main?

Now, to me there is two different states of "anger" you could be talking about: Something meant to be more comedic and unserious, and something meant to be actual unadulterated rage. I am going to discuss the second because angst

Edd tends to bottle his emotions, so when anger does come to front it can be explosive (literally). He doesn't get violent, but due to his powers sometimes things will break. Mostly he just yells, not thinking about what he is thinking because its just the floodgates being opened

He doesn't like how he can get, the aftermath including a lot of blaming himself until he just decides he was wrong. In some cases, he is still upset but decides to "let go" because its better. As he gets older he gets better at talking and communicating with the others, though.

Ringo is also a big help, though sometimes it does look like he is angrily petting a cat who has no awareness of said emotions.

Matt isn't easy to anger, so typically when he gets mad it is hard for him to let go. He does like to use his back log of gossip and observations to make what he has to say sting like hell.

He doesn't apologize unless he is actually sorry, which leads to a lot of friendships ending because of a small argument he wouldn't let go. Though when it comes to his "actual" friends, he takes some time to reconsider their side and eventually apologizes

But even then, it is hard to get Matt actually angry in the first place, his ability to "read" people so well means he easily sees all sides. This doesn't stop petty small arguments, though, but those are more of the first category

Tom is almost the polar opposite, quickly getting upset at even small things. Typically he TRIES to keep his emotions at bay, but he can only take so many small inconveniences before he physically changes because of it.

Surprisingly, in recent years (especially after Tord's incident) Tom has gotten really good at talking about how he feels before things become a serious issue. Is something is annoying him, he will tell you.

As for the aftermath, he typically passes out and wakes up to drink. He will go MIA for a few days if the argument/transformation got really bad, but again it has been a while since this has happened.

Tord is usually too doubtful of their own thoughts to actually get angry (they assume they are wrong, not who/whatever they are mad at). That said, the times they do truly get angry, things get bad. Tord's loud and typically brash personality gets completely nullified, that scary kind of silence

And, once again because of how rare it is for them to TRUST their anger enough to act on it, they tend to get smug about whatever they did when enraged.

If anything happens for there to be some kind of doubt after the fact, though, they do something similar to Tom and just become a shut in for a while, sulking in their guilt

I could probably ramble more about specific incidents, but that is my general idea of it all

[sgiandubh]

Hello how are you? I follow several shippers' blogs and I noticed that every now and then some bloggers publish hateful messages they received. My question is about mental health: how do you deal with it? I understand that your presence here is relatively recent, but have you ever regretted something?

Dear Mental Health Anon,

This is the kind of submissions I welcome with all my heart, because they are benevolent and witty. Forgive me already for what I suspect will be a long answer. It is not the pleasure of hearing me talk that prompts them, but the sincere intention to answer deserving asks as clearly, fully and honestly as I can.

The short answer is : I am fine, Fall is slowly coming and nights are starting to be really chilly. There's some light rain tapping on the roof of my flat and I will spend my week-end wandering around some of my favorite places on Earth. And now, onwards to the consistent and interesting ask of yours...

The worst trolling message I have ever seen in this fandom is the one I am immediately going to post below, because I think it should serve us all as warning and reminder. It was posted on a blog I have been reading from the beginning of my long lurking days on Tumblr: @cb4tb is one of the most balanced and articulate people in this corner of the Internet. I remember being shocked by its cold and very coherent violence. The feat of a casebook sociopath, who thinks her asks in Spanish (I am 200% certain about it) and who has an appalling command of English grammar. Written on Christmas' Eve and on purpose:

Compared to the alarming slander @cb4tb got (whatever for is a mystery, she is non conflictual and posts very witty business insights) on a day that should be completely taboo for every civilized human being (you don't need to believe in God to respect one of Christianity's most important celebrations), whatever hate I could get in here is definitely subpar. Most of it did not make it on my page and went straight to the bin. But it's not always easy: I am as human as you, Anon, and sometimes I feel personally insulted and revolted by the smugness and pettiness of it all. However, I must immediately add their hate never made me give up an inch of my convictions. They are the result of a long interval of watching and pondering, coupled with my own observations I gladly share with like-minded women all around the world. That often hits a nerve or bruises overinflated egos on the Other Side. So be it: I am not here to be meek and obedient, if I never was meek and obedient in real life. I am here to bring clarity and build trust, which incidentally resonates very closely to what I do for a living. That probably rates me as a moderate on the shipper spectrum, in the sense that by complete design I put aside some divisive topics I firmly chose not to discuss. I am not interested to bring attention on me, in here, and the least thing I'd like is to be a vector of discord. So that would also rate me as a peacemaker of sorts - and yes, that sounds perhaps pretentious, but I believe it is needed, especially now.

I only felt a clear intention to threaten me twice, both in DM. The first time it curiously came from one extreme fringe of the shipper community and I brushed it off, because it was an empty, almost ridiculous threat. I politely denied and that was it - two persons blocked me and there were no other consequences to it. The second time, an anti came to confront me on an irrelevant point, with a very aggressive undertone. I blocked and almost forgot about it. If you have it clear enough in your mind that such things cannot be avoided and, at the same time, you know that your own moral compass is not compromised, these details will not affect you. At all. I confidently promise you that. Last but not least: if you are not great with compartmentalizing, don't step in the arena. It can seriously ruffle your self-esteem and it's not worth it.

So this is how I deal with it: I focus on what I have to say (does it bring something new? interesting? positive? thought-provoking?), on the way of saying it (above all, be kind and gracious to every other shipper) and on the right moment to say it (only when I am honestly sure I can do it with no unwanted consequences). But I will stand in solidarity with any shipper (any single one of them) who is humiliated, belittled or disparaged, with not a single shred of fear in the world. And I would also fend for myself if necessary, if I am getting over-the-top slander: all the other yapping, I ignore. Sometimes (often, even) it's more interesting to watch.

And if anything else fails, I go for a long drive and have a coffee at the seaside or simply open a book or listen to some Bach or call Someone. Or take this little big guy out for a lazy walk in the park:

You ask me if I regret anything. Absolutely not. I have received more than I could ever give, in here. I have met spectacular women and men, I have grown very fond of and feel very close to. I have had the immense satisfaction of sharing their secrets, their worries, their plans and this means trust, in my book, for which I will never tire saying how grateful I am. I also strived to respond in kind and I mean to honor this unwritten contract. Last but not least, I have watched this community slowly dusting off months of sadness and perhaps starting to open up again.

And all of this makes me damn proud of who we are, Anon. Thank you for dropping by! You are always welcome on my page.