#it's just they'd have too much sass

[lunabug2004]

I genuinely believe that the reason the Duffers didn’t give us MadWheeler besties is because they would've been too powerful.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

come clean

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel comes home after a messy day on patrol, but you're already in the shower

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, language, getting together, slow buildup, jackson era, smut, handjob, f!masturbation, fingering, unprotected piv, rough sex, shower sex, size kink

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this one goes out to emotional support daydreams! as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated. hope y'all enjoy 💕

Joel’s having a rough day. It’s late, and he’s bone-tired and covered in…well, he’s not really sure what he’s covered in. Mud and bits of dead grass, definitely, but there's splotches of red on his jeans, too. He couldn’t tell you whether it’s his blood or something else’s—the adrenaline still hasn’t completely worn off, so it’s entirely possible he’s not feeling the full extent of his injuries yet.

His day hadn’t started that badly, but it wasn’t a typical morning, either. Maria had stopped him and Tommy at the gate to ask if they'd mind checking out a situation at the dam instead of patrolling their usual route.

Apparently, some of the machinery was acting up and the only person she trusted to oversee the repairs was Tommy. She honestly hadn't given much thought to Joel's part in all of it—their relationship is still pretty tense, even after his return to Jackson, so he was just along for the ride.

Things went downhill fast after they arrived at their destination. No one's really sure how the infected got into the facility, but it was a lucky thing Joel was there after all. With the help of a few guards, they were able to dispatch everything in and around the building without any bites or serious injuries but, boy, did they make a serious mess. Of the facility and the machinery they were supposed to help fix, and of Joel.

So now here he is, exhausted and dirty, getting shit from his kid when all he wants to do is get clean and take a fucking nap.

“Ew, gross,” Ellie groans, clearly not giving two shits about how badly Joel’s day is going or how little she’s helping right now. She had the day off and is somehow still watching movies in the same spot he left her in this morning. “Stop touching things! You’re getting shit everywhere.”

He ignores her and shrugs off his coat, walking into the living room to toss it over the back of his recliner, but she throws him a dirty look that stops him in his tracks.

"Whatever, m'gettin’ in the shower," he grunts, dropping it on the doormat instead. He'll probably have to burn that coat anyway if the stains and…odor are anything to go by.

"Uhhhh, no, actually you're not," she says matter-of-factly, and he raises his eyebrows, eyeing her expectantly when she doesn't elaborate.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Did your hearing get worse or something? Shower's already on,” she nods toward the stairs. He’s not sure how he didn’t notice the sound of running water filtering down from the second floor earlier, but now he’s annoyed that he can’t shower and that she might actually be right about his hearing.

"Well then, I'm waitin' here," he sasses back, taking a seat on the recliner with zero regard to the upholstery.

"Dude!" She’s starting to look as exasperated as he feels. And her reaction isn’t unwarranted. If he touches literally anything in this living room, they��ll probably have to burn it, too.

"Fine, fine, m'not touchin' anythin'," he stands back up, holding his hands up in surrender. "How long's she been in there?"

"Like, five minutes. Probably gonna be a while, knowing her,” she replies with an amused grin. Oh, so she thinks this is funny.

"The fuck do ya expect me to do then, stand here ‘til she's out?" He asks as if it’s not exactly what he’s been doing the entire time they’ve been having this conversation.

"As long as you don't sit on any of the furniture, I don't really give a shit what you do," she shrugs.

He rolls his eyes at her, running a hand down his face in frustration. He’s just about to give up and hose himself down in the yard when she finally offers a solution.

"You could just knock and see if she'll swap out with you. She basically just got in, anyway."

“Y’know what, I think I will,” he grumbles, heading upstairs to the bathroom and leaving Ellie to her shitty 90s sci-fi thriller. She shakes her head, laughing as she slips on her headphones.

“Don’t be too loud up there!”

But with his bad ears, he doesn’t hear her.

God, you needed this shower so badly. It's been a rough day, to say the least, and it’s finally time to get the relaxation you deserve. You got saddled with an extra patrol shift because two of the usual guys had a last-minute change of assignment, and it turned a typical day into an unbelievably exhausting one.

But tonight you got lucky. There was no one around to use up all of the hot water besides Ellie, who’s been glued to the TV all day, and you miraculously got home before Joel. So tonight, you get to enjoy the expensive bottle of shampoo you found at some fancy store in some fancy mall last month, and let yourself forget for a while that there’s fucking fungus monsters out there eating people.

That is—until someone knocks on the door and ends your perfect evening before it begins. Now you’ve got soap in your eyes, and you’re slightly worried because Ellie either needs something from the bathroom or the house is on fire. There’s never an in-between with her.

“Ellie? Everything okay?” you call out, really hoping it’s not the latter.

The voice that responds is muffled and decidedly much deeper than Ellie’s, and you’re momentarily taken off guard before you realize it’s not a burglar. It’s Joel—of course, it’s Joel. He probably got off his shift late and wants to clean up, and now you feel bad for making him wait and using up all the hot water.

You can’t really hear what he’s saying over the shower, so you slide the curtain open to poke your head out. “What? Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

He tries to answer you again, or at least you think he does, but you still can’t make him out, so you tell him to come inside. The door only opens a crack, but it's so quick that there's no time to duck behind the curtain before Joel's face appears and you're both staring at each other blankly.

“…Hi,” you breathe out, praying it’s just your head and not the rest of your body peeking out. “So, um, what were you saying?”

He looks a little embarrassed and it’s adorable, but the thought only crosses your mind for a split second before you notice the rest of him. He’s—there’s really no nice way to say this, but he looks revolting.

There’s dirt everywhere. Matted in his hair, under his fingernails, all over his clothes. It looks like he’s been rolling around on the ground all day, and honestly, maybe he has. He’s also got…gross, is that a chunk of…? Nope. It looks like someone exploded in his face, and he needs a shower. Badly.

The only problem is you’re covered head-to-toe in soap, and you’re pretty sure you’ve only got about 15 minutes of hot water left.

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry to barge in on ya,” he mumbles, looking pointedly away from you. “I came up here to see if you wouldn’t mind pausin’ your shower for a bit, but I, uh…can see that’s gonna be a little difficult.”

You look down at yourself and, yeah, he’s right. You’re dripping water and soap all over the floor. Getting out now would be a pain in the ass, but he also really needs to get in.

“No, no. It’s totally fine! It makes way more sense for me to sit around soapy than for you to, um, stand around like that,” you reason. It’s his turn to look down at himself, and he grimaces. “Just turn around for a sec and we can swap.”

He nods, still looking sheepish, but grateful.

You duck back into the shower to shut the water off and gather up your toiletries to make room for his. You’ve already shoved half of your stuff to one side before you realize it was probably just a waste of time because there was already plenty of space—and that's when it dawns on you.

This stall is pretty big—as far as showers go, anyway. There's no reason you can't both fit in here at the same time. It's also not like he's never seen you naked before. You joined up with Joel and Ellie long before running water was in the picture, so you've had your fair share of awkward bathing encounters. Really, it's just a matter of whether or not he'll go for it.

You pop your head back out, taking a second to admire those strong, broad shoulders of his before getting his attention. Damn, he's a real catch. Hot and respectful. But seriously, he's so disgusting right now and it would be a shame to allow that to continue.

"Hey, Joel," you start, and he glances back carefully over his shoulder. You hesitate for a beat before continuing, “So, hear me out—what if we just…if we both showered…at the same time…”

He looks confused, and you realize how badly you botched that entire sentence. Okay, so talking around it didn't work. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before trying again.

"Just—just get in with me," you say softly. "We can shower together."

His brow furrows, eyes unreadable. He looks like he might be thinking it over, but his silence isn't exactly the most encouraging reaction in the world. Subconsciously, you hold your breath while you wait for an answer.

There’s no way he’s going to go for this, is there? It’s Joel. He can barely look at you in a tank top without blushing, let alone wet and naked. You’re not even sure why you bothered asking. It was clearly a dumb—

“Yeah, guess that makes sense,” he nods, turning back to you fully, and you swear he’s looking at you differently. That's…not what you were expecting. Not that you're complaining in the slightest. He's not even trying to hide his eagerness, and you're starting to think maybe he was waiting for you to ask all along.

"Well, come on in, cowboy."

Joel undresses slowly, eyeing what little of you he can see greedily, and it makes your cheeks burn. It’s like he can’t look away—from your eyes and lips, your collarbone. Even the tiny droplets of water that fall from your hair. It feels more intimate than any moment you’ve ever shared with Joel, and he hasn’t even touched you. Yet, hopefully.

You’re getting impatient. He's making a show of stripping down and it's taking everything you have not to get out of the shower and rip all of his clothes off yourself. His fingers are so thick, and more and more of his tanned, weather-worn skin is exposed to you as they work to unbutton his shirt.

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling at this point, imagining those fingers sinking deep inside you before you can stop yourself. Fuck, you're pent up. And should probably have a lot more shame, but now he's unzipping his jeans, and you feel like you're about to combust.

You let out a pained noise without meaning to and he chuckles, shaking his head as he picks up the pace. "I'm comin', I'm comin'," he teases, dropping his pants to the floor. "Why don't you get the water goin' for me?"

Now you're the one having trouble looking away. Damn, who even is this guy? He’s nothing like the Joel you’ve known for years, and definitely not the Joel who stepped into this bathroom ten minutes ago. If you'd known it would go like this, you would’ve invited him to shower with you a long time ago.

He’s down to just his boxers now, and maybe it's wishful thinking, but he looks like he’s already hard. Swallowing is suddenly extremely difficult, so you shoot him one last appreciative look before doing what he asked.

You turn the water back on and it’s still pleasurably warm as it rains down onto your tense shoulders. The steady pressure soothes some of the nerves while you wait for him to join you, but you’re so caught up in the moment that you don't notice the curtain opening.

"Scoot over," he murmurs behind you, his breath fanning out over the back of your neck. He’s close, so much closer than you expected him to be. You assumed you’d be dancing around each other for at least a little while longer, but it seems like Joel knows exactly what he wants, and it’s not just the shower.

He reaches around you to grab that expensive bottle of shampoo you’ve been looking forward to, his fingers grazing your bare skin, and you shiver despite the heat of the water.

“Or you could stay right here,” he says, even closer now, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “We could help each other out—with washin’ up, I mean.”

You inhale shakily, your reply getting caught in your throat. “Y-yes—yeah, yes…we should definitely do that,” you breathe out.

He chuckles and the sound is surprisingly affectionate. It gives you hope that this won’t just be a one-time thing. That after all this time, he wants you as much as you want him.

You’re the first to initiate physical contact, reaching back to bury your fingers in his hair which, in retrospect, turns out to be a terrible idea. He’s still filthy, and your fingers get caught in tangles and dirt and…probably a lot of other nasty shit you don’t want to think about.

You snort out a laugh, turning around to face him. “I think you’re up first, handsome.”

The corners of his mouth tip up as he nods, and you can’t resist the urge to reach up and trace his bottom lip with your thumb. He kisses the pad of your finger, and you wish so badly that it was your lips.

For the second time tonight, you’re feeling incredibly impatient. You want to feel more of him, let him press you up against the wall and kiss you, touch you the way you both want him to, but it’ll have to wait.

You pluck the bottle from his hands and squeeze a huge dollop into your palm, telling him to turn around with a small smile. His eyes drop to the quirk of your lips for a moment too long before he obliges, and you’re starting to realize he’s getting impatient, too.

You reach up to thread your fingers into his graying hair and, somehow, the strands still feel soft despite everything tangled up in them. It’s going to take a decent amount of scrubbing before it’s back to its normal, fluffy state of disarray, but you’ll make it feel good for him. A little taste of what's to come.

He tips his head back as you massage in the shampoo, letting out the softest groan when your fingernails scratch along his scalp, and you have to press your thighs together to relieve the growing ache in your core. You’re not going to make it through this shower if he keeps making noises like that. But, of course, he does, and they're getting louder.

You can feel his body starting to respond to yours, too. It’s a little cruel how you’re purposely working him up, sliding a washcloth over his shoulders and across his back, letting your fingers skim teasingly over his skin as you stretch your arms around him to reach his front.

His stomach flexes under your palm, and he inhales sharply as your hardened nipples graze across his back. You continue your path down, running your fingers through the coarse hair at the base of his cock, and his hips jerk forward, seeking the friction you so desperately want to provide. He's panting, and you're both having a difficult time holding yourselves back.

Brown and red swirl in the water around your feet and down the drain, and it's enough to tell you that he's finally clean. And that you can finally touch him the way you want to.

Pressing yourself firmly against his back, you reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock and he feels huge in your hand, rock hard and pulsing with his racing heartbeat. You pump him a few times, giving him a firm squeeze at the base, and he keens, already leaking all over himself.

He braces a hand on your hip to steady himself as you trail open-mouthed kisses down his spine, digging his fingers in roughly when you slowly start to jerk him off in earnest.

"T-that's it, pretty girl—,” he pants heavily, eyes dropping down to watch you work him, and you twist your wrist up on the next stroke, thumbing over his head. "Keep goin', just like that."

You whimper damply against his skin at the pet name, feeling a pleasurable whoosh in your belly as your cunt drips pathetically down your thighs. The throbbing between your legs is almost unbearable, but you don't want to let him go, not when his hips are meeting your fist so fucking desperately. You wedge a hand between your bodies, slipping it lower and lower until your fingers rub against your slick folds, gathering some of the wetness to rub soothing circles into your clit.

“I got you, I got you,” you moan at the sudden relief. Your caresses start to match his thrusts, and soon he's trembling in your arms, whimpering like he'll cum any second if you let him. You rub your cheek tenderly against his back, murmuring soft, encouraging words into his heated skin.

"You're doing so, so well," you tell him, and he seizes up at the praise, chest heaving as you focus your attention closer to the tip. "You wanna cum or are you gonna wait for me? Want you to fill me up…can you do that for me?"

For a second, you think your words might've thrown him over the edge, his hips stuttering against your palm even as you slow your movements. But he's still clearly fighting the urge to cum, and that has to mean he wants to fuck you badly.

His hand shakes as it lifts to wrap around yours, guiding you down to squeeze the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm, but you're not making it easy for him. You barely notice your other hand still working your pussy, too turned on to realize you've started pumping two fingers in and out of yourself.

Joel notices, though. Something that sounds almost animalistic tears its way out of his chest as he turns on you, snatching your hand out of your cunt and slamming it against the shower wall. Your fingers are shiny and glistening with your wetness and he leans forward to suck each of them into his mouth, groaning at your taste on his tongue.

The look on his face makes it seem like you're the best meal he's ever had, and you feel a strong, sudden urge to have his tongue in your mouth so you can taste yourself. He pulls off your middle finger with an audible pop, and then you're crashing your lips into his, immediately licking into him.

God, why do you taste so good in his mouth? It's salty and heady, and really shouldn't be as hot as it is, but you can't bring yourself to care as his tongue tangles with yours. You feel two—shit, no, it’s three—of his fingers slip into you, and, holy fuck, they're so much bigger than yours. You're already so full and they feel even thicker at the base, nudging a spot that makes you see stars.

There's no way his cock is going to fit inside you…right? But the thought of him trying anyway almost makes you cum on the spot. Another wave of heat crashes through you and your walls convulse around him, pussy gushing down his fingers, and he abruptly breaks away from your lips, groaning lowly, desperately.

"Fuck, I-I need—shit, I need to fuck you, pretty girl," he twitches against you, leaking a glob of precum as he ruts into your belly. “M'gonna fill ya up real good, just like you wanted—," and you gasp, clamping down on his fingers one more time before he's pulling them out and hauling you into his arms, your legs quickly wrapping around his waist as he shoves you higher up the wall.

His hands roam your skin hungrily before eventually settling under the soft swell of your ass, holding you up as he slicks up his cock between your folds. Every time the tip catches your clit, your hips buck clean off the wall and he presses into you harder to keep you in place. You bury your face in his neck, thighs squeezing into his sides.

"S'not gonna fit," you slur, a little drunk off how good he feels between your legs. The next time his hips buck forward, the blunt head of his cock catches your entrance. "J-Joel—ngh…Joel, s'too big, you have to make it fit, please."

And that's when his patience runs out.

He sheathes himself to the hilt in one harsh thrust, growling roughly into your hair, and the stretch is mind-numbing. He stays deep, letting you adjust to the feeling of being split open, and his head drops to your shoulder. His eyes are locked on where you're joined, your pussy stretched around him almost obscenely.

"Would'ja look at that," he mumbles to himself, rocking in and out slowly as he turns his head to suck a bruise into your collarbone. You reach a hand down curiously, wanting to feel yourself around him, and your jaw drops when your fingers brush where his thickness is forcing your cunt to yield to him. "Knew you could take me…pussy feels s-so fuckin' good, like you were made for me."

You whine pathetically as the ache starts to subside and the need for him to fuck you becomes overwhelming. Pleasure blooms where he's already grazing that heavenly spot again, and you tug his head back by his hair, bringing his attention back up to you.

Everything pauses, just for a moment. You kiss his lips delicately, so much more delicate than he's about to be with your body but, right now, you need him to know that it's more than this for you. More than the sex and the physical intimacy. And the way he kisses you back reassures you beyond a doubt that it's more than this for him, too.

Then, your patience runs out.

"Joel, move."

And suddenly, he's spearing up into that spot deep inside you with reckless abandon, bouncing you on his cock, and you're not entirely sure, but you might actually be screaming.

Your head lolls back, thudding dully against the wall, and he ducks down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue circling the nub as he continues you work you up and down his shaft. The sound your pussy's making around him should be humiliating, but it only spurs him on, the wet squelching echoing loudly over the running water.

"Hear that? That's all you, baby. So fuckin' wet, look at that," and he's watching himself again in awe as he fucks in and out of you. You follow his gaze and, holy shit, he's not kidding. You're absolutely soaking him. "You look so good like this, so goddamn pretty stretched around my cock."

You still haven't completely acclimated to how thick he is, not sure you ever actually will, and the syrupy-sweet pain of him has you clawing at his back. You use the wall as leverage, arching just enough so you can actively meet his thrusts, and the new angle sends you reeling.

"Feels so…full, so full," you gasp, your back inching higher up the wall with the force of his thrusts. "K-keep going…there, Joel, there."

It's not just that one spot he's hitting anymore—fuck, it feels like he's everywhere. The ridge of his cock is rubbing your walls just right and every other thrust fucks deep enough to graze your cervix. You sob at the onslaught of overpowering pleasure, burying your hands in his hair to tether yourself as your brain begins to fizzle.

Just a little more, you only need a little bit more. You can feel the lower half of your body locking down and, as if he can sense exactly what you need, he grinds his cock in as deep as it'll go.

"That's it, baby. C'mon, give it to me," he grits against your throat. "Squeezin' me so fuckin' tight, you're almost there."

The coarse hairs at the base of his cock scrape roughly and a little painfully against your swollen clit as you rock against him, but the slide is still so slick and raw that your thighs begin to quake around his waist, and it's—fuck, it's so…so…

"M'gonna fucking cum—gonna…oh fuck, fuck, Joel," your lips part around what you pray is a silent scream and your body goes rigid, cunt spasming violently around him.

He chokes out a moan as you clamp down impossibly tighter on his cock. "Fuckin' hell, there we go," he rasps out shakily as he fucks you into the wall blindingly hard, letting you ride him through your orgasm.

"So, s-so good. Feels so fuckin' good," he's starting to mumble to himself deliriously, squeezing your ass hard enough to bruise. You whimper helplessly as his thrusts get sloppier and more desperate, "Gonna fill you up 'til it's leakin' out…c-can I, pretty girl? Please…bet you'd look so fuckin' good with my cum spillin' out of you—"

Before you can even answer, you feel him throb and then his entire body stills, his cock visibly pulsing as he empties into you. He moans his way through it, his head dropping to your shoulder again to watch himself pump you full of cum just like he said he would.

If you thought you felt full before, it's nothing compared to how you feel right now. He's still so deep, twitching pathetically inside you as he lifts his head to nose at the underside of your jaw. He presses a soft kiss there and you sigh, wrapping your arms and legs around him tighter.

"Christ, Joel, where did that come from?" you rasp out. He chuckles, and his whole body shakes with it, jostling his hips into your sensitive clit. Your pussy flutters around him and his breath hitches, fingers digging into the softness of your thighs. He still hasn't pulled out and you have a feeling he doesn't want to.

"Been waitin' a long time for that," he murmurs, meeting your eyes. You smile softly, and your lips command his attention. "Waited a long time for you."

So full of surprises tonight. You’ve traveled with him for years, settled down with your kid, but you never expected this. For him to finally feel the same way you do, to fuck you like that. You’re suddenly extremely thankful he came home in dire need of a shower.

You run your hands up his chest, settling one on his shoulder and burying the other in his hair. The dirt, the grime��it's all gone now, replaced by your release and the sweat of your exertion. He smells so good, just like your fancy shampoo. Just like home.

You lean in to kiss him deeply and he melts into you, his lips soft and warm against yours. When you part, you're met with that look again. The one he gave you after you asked him to shower with you, and that he hasn't stopped giving you since. Like he's observing you, contemplating you.

You recognize it now—it's hope.

"I've been waiting a long time for you too, Joel."

He kisses you again, holding you close as the water goes ice cold.

thanks so much for reading! 🥰

[myfeetrcolddd]

Under the mistletoe

"And you're sure it'll only stop the two of them?" Draco asked, his eyes narrowed and skeptical of the curly haired Gryffindor.

"Yes, Malfoy, I'm sure." Hermione replied, annoyed at the Slytherin boys skeptics.

(✿◕‿◕✿)

Theodore Nott and Y/N L/N were completely oblivious and deep in denial. The amount of times the two gushed to their respective friends about something the other did was far too many.

It was obvious that they liked each other. Everyone knew, but them it seemed, and it was unbearable. Especially for their friends who couldn't take the constant talks about how much one liked the other but 'It would never happen because he's way out of my league.' or 'She deserves better than me.'

So Harry did the unspeakable, he went and talked to Draco. The two groups came up with a plan.

It was the holidays, Theo and Y/n were already practically a couple, doing things together that no normal friends would, all they weren't doing was kissing or shagging.

The two groups knew there was no way of really forcing them to confess, but if they could get the two to kiss then they'd have to confront the obvious attraction they felt for the other, and surely they wouldn't be able to deny the face that the other liked them.

It was nearly fool proof. The just had to find a way to execute it.

"Mistletoe!" Blaise shouted, grinning as he ran into the room of requirement, the official meeting place for operation Kiss, as Blaise suggested, though no one else wanted to call it that there was no other options.

"What're you on about." Ron said, frowning.

"Mistletoe!" Blaise repeated, still grinning like a madman as he held up the tiny bundle of mistletoe, showing it to everyone in the room.

"Yeah, we get it, mistletoe." Mattheo mocked, "What about it?"

"This," He waved the thing around in his friends face, "Is how we get them to kiss!"

"Mate..." Harry said slowly, "Hate to break it to you, but they've gone under mistletoe before, the completely ignore it. Like literally everyone else does."

"Yeah, I know that." Blaise says, annoyed by the lack of enthusiasm in the room, "But what if we found a way that forced them to not ignore it!" He waited for someone to interrupt him, to say it was a dumb idea, but when no one didn't he went on, "Hear me out, what if when they both walked under it it somehow kept them there! So that they wouldn't be able to leave that spot until they kissed!"

Everyone stared at him, confused but intrigued.

"And how would we do that?"

Blaise rolled his eyes, "Well I don't know." He sassed, "I came up with the idea, you all can figure out how to do it." He huffed as he dropped himself onto one of the many sofas in the room.

As if they were all thinking the same thing they all turned towards Hermione, who looked startled by the attention, "I don't know why you're all looking at me." She frowned.

"Well you're the smartest one here..." Enzo said and the girl pressed her lips into a thin line before she rolled her eyes.

"Well, there probably is a way it's possible, we'd have to modify a potion or maybe even a spell, especially since we don't want to trap others under the mistletoe, so we'd have to find a way to keep it person specific..." Hermione then rattled on about all the ways they could go about it and soon they had a plan.

It took a week for things to be ready.

(✿◕‿◕✿)

"Have your friends been acting weird lately?" Y/N asked Theo as they walked out of potions.

"More than usual actually." The boy replied and glanced down at the girl he was sure he wanted to marry.

"Same, and I swear I've seen Hermione talking with Draco so much this week."

"Maybe they're finally getting together." Theo smirked, "Salazar knows it's about time."

The girl laughed and shook her head, "Tell me about it. If they don't get together this year then I'm going to be out of ten galleons."

The pair went quiet for a moment and Y/N took the chance to look up at her best friend. He was beautiful, and quite possibly the love of her life. She had never planned on letting her feelings get this far.

It had only started as a small crush on a boy she was friendly with back in second year. But then they got closer, and the closer they got the harder she fell.

Now they're in their last year and she still hadn't confessed, she figured it was too late, and it was clear he didn't want anything other than friendship from her. He had had multiple girlfriends before, and none of them looked like her, they were quite the opposite actually.

Y/N was counting on losing feelings for him this year, it would be for the best.

As if he could feel her eyes on him Theo turned and looked at her, his green-blue eyes meeting hers. For a moment she felt her heart stop, she was lost in them and the swirling colors.

But then she shook her head and looked forward and started to rant about whatever came to mind. It was a good thing she always had at least one thing to rant about. Or she should say two, but it would be idiotic to rant to Theo about himself. It would also make her feelings for him obvious.

The two turned into a deserted hall and as they passed beneath an arch way they found that neither of them could take a step forward.

Their feet were stuck to the ground.

Y/N turned to Theo frantically, "What's going on?!"

"I dunno, I can't lift my feet off the ground."

"Neither can I..." She went silent and found that she could pivot. She looked around, and it wasn't until she looked up that she saw mistletoe hung from the high archway. But surely that had nothing to do with it, so she ignored it.

"Did the twins do this?" Theo started to ask but then remembered that the infamous pranksters had graduated. But that was all either of them could come up with, it was something the twins would do.

So maybe it was a Weasly.

The pair ended up staring at each other, the both of them ignoring the close proximity and the fact that their chests were touching.

After ten minutes Y/N had come up with an idea. It was a stupid one and she wasn't sure if it would even work. But Theo wouldn't stop staring at her and she was sure she looked like a tomato under the heat of his gaze.

"Theo." She said.

"Y/N."

The girl took a deep breath before blurting the words, "Kiss me."

"W-what?" Theo stuttered, his heart beating ten times faster now and a light blush coating his cheeks. His eyes flicked down to the lips he dreamt about kissing, the plump lips he fantasized about at night. He swallowed thickly and met her eyes once more. "I- Why?"

"I'm just-" She paused, "Testing out a theory." She wanted to kiss him, but she didn't at the same time. She didn't want to kiss him under these circumstances, if she was going to kiss him she wanted him to know it was because she liked him.

"Okay..." Theo said slowly and Y/N looked up at him with determination in her eyes.

She took a deep breath and brought her hands up to the boys face, instinctually his hands found her waist, "I really really like Theodore Nott!" She blurted quickly before smashing her lips onto his.

Theo stood still for a moment before he realized she was kissing him, and he wasn't kissing her back. So he did.

The kiss was sloppy, and rushed, and there was passion and hunger in it. Both of them seemed t have forgotten what was happening, losing themselves in the kiss of their lives.

It was only when she tugged on the hairs at the back of Theos head and he let out a groan did Y/N realize what she was doing.

Horrified she pushed him off, and when he stumbled back a step she saw that her theory was right and she bolted off. Running far far away from the boy and her feelings.

Meanwhile Theo stood there, dazed and confused and impossible flustered, and all he could think about was that he had just kissed her. And he knew he was going to marry her.

"She likes me too." He mumbled, smiling to himself as his fingers brushed across his lips.

No clue how to go on from this. Might make part two ;3

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

EPILOGUE

word count: 2,424

tag: @bruhidkjustwannaread | @rubyxx16 | @bellabarnes1378 | @johnmurphys-sass | @strangeobsessed

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

It was late, the two of you alone in the dim quiet of the study, a night that felt heavy with unsaid things. Tommy sat across from you, elbows resting on his knees, a cigarette between his fingers, eyes half-hooded and distant. The faint lines of exhaustion showed on his face—exhaustion from the work, the world, and perhaps, from you.

The silence had settled deep before he finally broke it, voice low and rough. “Arthur and John had a talk with you about Grace, didn’t they?” His gaze held you, unyielding, though there was a tension around his mouth, a crack in the armor.

You nodded, meeting his stare head-on. “They did.”

You didn't think it was odd at the time. It only seemed natural that they would approach you with a topic, as sensitive as it could have been. Admittedly, they didn't say much, and, as expected, you didn't respond in the way they'd braced themselves for. They tried to be gentle, knowing fully well that whatever lie ahead was something no one had expected. And still, you couldn't help but smile as they walked away. You still weren't used to this level of care. Though it was foreign to you, you accepted the gesture anyway.

Tommy looked away, drawing in a long breath, the cigarette smoke curling up between you. “I'd hoped we could talk about it alone...” He trailed off, and you caught the faintest tremor in his hand as he stubbed out his cigarette. After a beat, he added, “You ever think I don’t feel as much for you because of her?”

It was a question that carried weight—Tommy rarely invited vulnerability, rarely opened himself to any perception of weakness. He was offering you a window into his mind, no matter how tightly he guarded the door.

Your voice was calm but sharp, so sure in how you'd respond when this conversation eventually came. “I didn't agree to marry you because I thought you loved me more than her, Thomas Shelby.” You leaned forward, holding his gaze. “Just like you didn't propose because you thought Ezra was anything less than he was to me. You'd do well to remember that. But if you have any doubts, say it now, and we'll bury it for the sake of the day.”

He met your stare, his hand clenching into a fist before he forced it to relax. His eyes softened, a flicker of vulnerability that was almost painful to witness. “I wanted more. Only I didn't. I couldn't step away from all of this, not really. I used to say that the storm would find me. Maybe that was an excuse. But you're not asking me to step away. I invited you in, and now, you're in it beside me.”

You sat in silence for a moment, the tension between you like a pulse, rhythmic and alive. Then you spoke, quieter, but unwavering. “And that's how it's supposed to be. If I didn't love you the way I do, then a storm would be a fleeting moment. But here I am, bracing myself for whatever weather finds you—finds us. Because that's what people do when they love each other. They don't cast the lightning away. They hold your hand and remind you it'll all be over soon.”

Tommy's gaze dropped to the floor, and for once, he seemed at a loss. “It’s not easy,” he admitted, voice barely more than a whisper. “I still feel like there’s parts of me left with her that I can’t reclaim.”

You softened, reaching out and resting a hand on his, grounding him. “Then let those pieces be lost. We can't be ghosts chasing after the forgotten pieces we've left behind forever.”

He looked up, a flash of something almost desperate in his gaze, as though your words had struck a nerve, revealing a raw edge he couldn’t protect. “It’s you, you know.”

A quiet filled the room, and you saw the shift in his eyes—the recognition of a truth he could neither deny nor escape. He leaned forward, closer, his voice a rasp.

“You’re not a replacement, love. You’re the storm as much as you are the calm aftermath.” Tommy reached for you, pulling your waist before pressing his cheek deep into the fabric of your shirt.

Taking a deep breath, you tangled your fingers in his hair as you felt him breathe against you. "How did we get here, Tommy?" You whispered.

He didn't respond at first, knowing the answer wouldn't be so simple. But when he finally spoke, the single phrase revealed every truth behind what came to be.

"I called, and you answered."

Your hand found the back of his neck, and you held on, letting the silence speak what words couldn’t. There, in the dark quiet of the night, Tommy Shelby was finally yours, fully and without reserve. The ghosts were laid to rest, a whisper in the past as he turned toward what was real, toward you.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The small chapel was filled with muted whispers and glances, everyone acutely aware of the atmosphere—a mix of expectation and undeniable tension that seemed to follow you and Tommy wherever you went. This wasn’t just a wedding, not in the traditional sense. It was a statement, a promise made in defiance of a world that had tried again and again.

Arthur stood near the front, his gaze bouncing between you two with an expression that was hard to read. There was a protective edge to it, something almost brotherly. He’d been there through every dark night and hard-fought victory, and though he would never admit it aloud, Arthur found himself feeling strangely proud. He’d watched Tommy transform from the ruthless strategist he’d always been into a man softened, if only slightly, by you.

Polly, seated in the second row, leaned forward, her gaze razor-sharp as she took in the sight of you in your gown. Her fingers wrapped lightly around her cigarette, though she’d promised to put it out before the ceremony. She was the only one unafraid to say what was on her mind, and Polly knew exactly what she was seeing—two people who, against all odds, had found their equal match.

Ada sighed, her eyes studying the subtle interplay between you and Tommy. “Not gonna lie to you, Pol. Didn't think we'd be back here so soon after Grace,” she whispered. There was a quiet awe in her voice, a recognition that her brother—who had once vowed to never love anyone the way he loved control—had found something, someone, he couldn’t control, yet could trust. “But you were right,” she added, almost to herself. "He looks different."

"He looks whole." Polly stubbed out her cigarette on her heel. "With y/n he's not looking for some ideal life. He's learning to appreciate what he's already got."

The ceremony began, and as you and Tommy exchanged vows, your words were soft, almost inaudible, but there was no need for volume. Everyone present could see the conviction in your eyes, feel the weight of unspoken promises. This wasn’t a flowery exchange of empty words; this was raw, stripped of sentimentality.

Finn leaned toward Michael with a bemused expression. “If Tommy mucked up his vows, you reckon she'd hold a knife to his throat?” he jested, only partially kidding as he knew you were more than capable.

Michael shook his head slowly, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don't tempt fate. If she'd do that to Tommy, imagine what she'd do to us for messing up her wedding day.”

Finn's eyes widened a bit as he watched Tommy reach for your hand. The action was subtle, just a brush of his fingers against yours, but it was enough.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

Arthur watched you from across the room, leaning against the bar with his drink in hand. He hadn’t said much all night, a fact that had earned him curious glances from Polly and a few wary looks from Ada. But he wasn’t ignoring them; his mind was elsewhere, lost in thought as he observed you with his brother.

As the reception began, the tension relaxed, but only slightly. John sidled up to him. “Think this’ll change him?” John asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

Arthur glanced at him, then back at the couple. “Nah,” he muttered. “That's not what he wants. Not what she wants either.” He watched as you leaned in, your hand lightly resting on Tommy’s arm, your eyes fierce but warm, as though reminding him of something only he knew. “Pol and I used to say she could either break him or make him unstoppable. No doubt about that now.”

He had always known Tommy was capable of love—he’d seen it in fleeting moments, hidden under layers of steel, shielded by calculated silence. Arthur knew Tommy better than anyone; he knew what it looked like when Tommy cared for something, truly cared.

“Look at ’em,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head in quiet disbelief. He took another sip, glancing sideways at John, who was studying just as he was. "Like a fuckin' painting."

John smirked, his brows knitting together. “You're getting all sentimental, aren't you?”

Arthur let out a dry laugh, looking at him as if he’d asked the most obvious question in the world. “Look closer, mate. Tommy don’t trust easy, you know that. But you see the way he looks at her? Like he’d damn well tear apart anyone who tried to take her from him.” Arthur shook his head, a glint of admiration in his eyes.

John glanced back toward you and Tommy, and for the first time, he saw it—truly saw it. The way Tommy’s hand moved toward yours instinctively, the way he tilted his head, listening intently as if your every word held some kind of answer. It was in the little things, and they both knew how much those little things mattered.

As the night wore on, Arthur found you alone by the window, staring out into the darkening sky. He hesitated for a moment before approaching you, clearing his throat softly to get your attention.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his voice gruff but gentle.

You glanced over your shoulder, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Wouldn't be normal if you didn't.”

Arthur stepped up beside you, his gaze following yours out the window. He scratched his beard, casting you a sidelong glance.

“You remember the first thing you ever said to me,” he started, his tone unusually reflective. “Told me to take two steps back while you held a bloody knife to my bollocks. If someone had asked me back then if I ever thought we'd be here, I'd spit in their face.”

You laughed softly, remembering the moment quite well. “This is as much of a shock to me as it is to you, Arthur.”

“You asked before how Tommy would show you what possessing him would cost and all that,” he started quietly. “Did you ever get your answer?

"It was never about being paid even though that's how I made it seem," you sighed, closing your eyes briefly.

He chuckled, the sound low and almost disbelieving. “You finally admitting that out out? Could've fooled me. Could've fooled all of us.”

"It's always been about the truth." You absorbed his words in silence, your gaze softening. "People are so quick to say what they want if it's something valuable but not him. Tommy would never tell the truth about what he wanted. Doesn't often grace anyone with that truth. What I truly wanted was for someone—anyone, not just Tommy—to look me in the eyes and realize that happiness is not found chasing a better life. It's in the moments where you see what's in front of you, whatever it's worth, and to want nothing more than time to simply be. Whether that meant wanting me or something else, that was his decision."

Arthur let out a deep sigh, his voice dropping even lower.

“I don’t know how long it’ll last,” he admitted, his tone somber. “This life we lead, it don’t exactly lend itself to happily ever afters.” He paused, his gaze steadily refocusing on you. “But if anyone can keep him on the right path, it’s you.”

Your smile was small but genuine, a quiet acknowledgment of his words. “Thank you, Arthur. But who would you really be without this life?”

Arthur nodded, a flicker of relief passing through his eyes. “Ain't that the truth. Just make sure you hang around. 'Cause if you walk away, he’ll be right back where he started—maybe worse.”

As he started to walk away, you called him back. You leaned against the wall, the small smile fading into something more sentimental and somewhat somber. "I mean it, Arthur. Thank you."

He turned, slightly confused at your tone.

"For finding the truth for me."

"You know, I was just following Tommy's orders," he said with a soft chuckle.

"Yes, but you told me in a way that showed me you cared. Could've been cruel, you know that. You're perfectly capable."

Arthur lowered his drink with a grimace that was foreign to both of you. He approached you again and placed a firm hand on your shoulder. He didn't say anything else. He squeezed his hand gently before turning away. For once, he felt a flicker of hope—a rare, fleeting sense that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out all right.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

As the night came to a close, you and Tommy quietly walked upstairs to the bedroom. Once the door shut, he watched you sit in front of your vanity to take off the many pieces of jewelry draped around your neck. And after a moment, you felt his hand on your back, slowly taking them off for you with care.

You closed your eyes with a heavy sigh and rested your head against his chest. He wrapped his arms snuggly around you, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your shoulder.

"Are you ready, Mrs. Shelby?" Tommy whispered against your skin.

You chuckled, turning to face him. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, catching the full depth of his eyes in the moonlight. "Ready for what, Mr. Shelby?"

Tommy's lips touched yours so faintly and then a second time to savor the feeling. With one hand, he removed the pins in your hair until the locks cascaded around your shoulders. He studied your face, tracing every line and shadow.

"For whatever happens next."

[yanderenightmare]

this doesn’t need to be a full story I’d just love to see some of scummy kirishima trying to refrain himself from forcing himself on his darling but she makes it .. so hard

BNHA ! THIRST

Kirishima Eijirou x darling

TW: NSFW, yandere, noncon/dubcon, misogyny, prohero au, inappropriate thoughts in the office… 

I took liberties - made darling a supervisor-type from the Hero Commission fsr

It's as though every inch of you begs him to pounce. From the free-fall of crispy-done curls that cascade down around your shoulder to the perfectly placed red-lined lips you smack once talking down to him about proper hero protocol and the subsequent punishments that follow insubordination and how you'll have his license revoked if he doesn't start playing by the Hero Public Safety Commissions rules.

You make him want to gather your expensive haircut in a tight-knit fist – smudge all that red over your pretty face when taking his cock so far down your bratty throat you choke on all the prissy words kept on your tongue for him.

Strutting in that tight black pencil skirt that cinches your small waist – making it look so perfectly receptacle for his large hands – above those firm hips and those doughy thighs he wants nothing more but to squeeze into and make jiggle as he buries himself deep between them. You make his balls itch every time you stomp away from him – with the cruelly tall peekaboo slit splitting your skirt open – teasing him with every loud step you take in those slick black stilettos - showing ankles and legs and knees and thighs, up and up but not far up enough to quench the feral hunger it edges deep down in his gut.

He'd shuffle on his knees – bite his knuckles in restraint – all to cop a feel of that ass and how you sway it with the same sass of an alley-cat. He can imagine it receiving his greedy hands so well – letting him carve in so far he might see his fingers completely swallowed in the fat. Leave his handprint in stinging welts that make you weep for kindness, bent over his lap with your wrists in his fist – only to be answered by his sharp teeth sinking deep into the supple flesh – making you scream.

You don't make it easy for him… being so tiny and snatchable. It would be the easiest thing – to take and tame you – to pull your much smaller body right off your feet and push you tight against the nearest wall – all your important documents on the floor beneath his dirty boots as you take his cock between your ribs and choke on the moan it gives you.

He can barely listen when you berate him – telling him his pay will be redacted if he doesn’t try harder at keeping the wreckage of private and government buildings to a minimum – unable to block out all the impure thoughts that go bubbling from his balls, making his throat tight as you stand there so primly in your glossy silk shirt with buttons so flimsy he bet they'd pop off on the slightest little tug. He imagines it as you continue your rant – your finger pointed at him strictly, and all he’s able to think about is how your breasts would spill out and he’d get to see whatever chic lace brazier you have on underneath.

Gnashing his teeth together, gritting them tight at how painful his boner is, kept inside the strict confines of his boxers while he imagines chewing on the pretty pearls you keep around your throat – thinking about tugging the necklace tight in a strangle, making you squeak and groan as he pounds you harder and harder from behind.

He bets only one of his big hands in your hair would have you completely humbled. Bet you'd cower in cries and do exactly whatever he'd tell you in fear of having your pretty body hurt.

He bet he'd get away with it, too – that's the worst part – that the crime he wants to commit the most is one without consequence. He'll think about it until his abdomen feels like it's about to burst – until his head's so hot and pounding it hurts, and he might very well blackout and give into all of it without further thought.

It would be as easy as pulling on a ski mask. He knows exactly how he’d do it – has your entire routine mapped out and knows exactly what empty building is still under construction in exactly what shortcut you go through to reach your apartment. Knows exactly which slab of still dusty concrete he could bend you over and push your little tear-stained face down against – watching the chub of your cheek squish against the cold stone as you moan on hot cries and plead out fruitless whimpers for his mercy. 

He imagines taking his sweet time with you – getting you real nice and ready for him, playing slippery patterns between your folds where he has your feet kicked apart in a spread. He'd rest his pained and pulsating meat between the valley of your asscheeks as you shake and whine – rubbing against the soft plush skin with a rumble in his chest until you're perfectly puffy and wet for him – tight cunt suckling lewdly on three of his fat gravely fingers stuffed inside it.

He knows you don't get around much – knows you're too busy and otherwise too stingy to let any random person fuck you, so he can only imagine how sweet and sensitive you'd be for him – so needy for the attention, you'd probably start cheering him on once feeling how good he stretches your cock-starved pussy out. 

He imagines your moans are real girly, too – that you'd squeal so nicely once split apart on him. And how your thighs would quake, receiving every inch of his length inside you – toes curling in your stilettos once he's completely bottomed out – nudging his fat cockhead right up against your cervix.

You’d clench on his shaft – milk him for cum – desperate for it.

And he’d give it to you – paint your walls thick with it – cream your tight little cunt so full of it you’d moan out the prettiest breathless thank you as it spills in beady pills down your thighs into your expensive power-heels – properly put in your place.

tip-jar: Kofi

[falling-star-cygnus]

Shaking the fandom by the shoulders WHERE ARE THE CAESAR AND BILLY SIBLING FICS!? THEY ARE STATED TO BE SIBLINGS! BILLY GAVE CAESAR ONE OF HIS ARMS! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH POTENTIAL THERE IS WITH THESE TWO?!

((Sorry for the excitement. I was really looking forward for some caesar and Billy wholesomeness from the fandom, after chapter 4. And I found...well, that one angst fic of Billy losing his memories from you and that was before she released! Seriously, we need more big sibling lil sibling dynamic with Caesar and Billy!

LOUDERRRRR -> the billy kid & caesar king tag doesn't even exist on ao3 yet 😭

which is CRAZY, bc- they're so sweet?? like Caesar clearly cares so much about him [i have one more Caesar post that's only on here, and in my Hare Headcanons Incorrect Quotes fic, in case you didn't see it :D]

sooo anydoodle, here's Caesar and Lighter's reaction to Dismemberment! enjoyyy~ i hope

"BILLY KID."

....oooh, boy.

It had been a while since the android had heard that tone. A nice while. A good while.

He should run.

"GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE. RIGHT NOW."

He should definitely run.

As quietly, and as quickly, as Billy could possibly manage- he crept off the couch and towards the door. Caesar had swung by on one of her rare trips to Sixth Street, Lighter in tow, to say hi. And to catch up, of course, as the two had been immediately roped into conversation by the girls. With pictures.

He was going to find Burnice's stash and burn it one of these days...

The android crept another step.

Then another.

Annnnd one more.

Freedom was within his grasp..

"Going somewhere, brother?"

A familiar hand, equipped with a gaudy gauntlet he'd say, latches onto the back of his collar to haul him up to his feet like the android was a particularly feisty alley cat.

"Damnit, Lighter, when did you get so strong!?" Billy yelps, despaired that his exit has been cut off, "What did I do?"

"What didn't you do, Billy?" Caesar cuts in, arms crossed in that scolding Big Sister way that still terrifies him.

"Uh, huh-!? I don't know- Did I forget to take the trash out? Or send a letter? What did I do!?"

Nicole peeks out of the kitchen, vaguely apologetic as she watches the scene play out. 'Sorry' she mouths at him. And then flees.

Like a traitor.

Billy doesn't even notice that Caesar and Lighter are examining his limbs until his Big Sis is snapping in front of his face. With..

Ohhhh.

"You didn't think it was important to tell us you had been stripped for parts?" The leading lady of the Sons barks, pinching some of the hair behind his audio processors to tug.

"Obviously it didn't stick."

"Don't sass your big sister," Lighter tugs him into a loose chokehold to knuckle into his hair, "We had to find out from your boss!"

A traitor!

"I didn't want to worry you! I got better-"

Billy is suddenly struck with the images of Piper and Lucy, what they'd look like if they found out what happened to him. How it would effect Piper's sleep, which was so easily influenced by the sounds around her. Or Lucy's already low trust in strangers.

The android is wrenching himself out of Lighter's hold before he even realizes, clutching onto his arm and to Caesar's elbow.

"You can't tell the others," he pleads, careful to keep his grip loose enough not to break the fragile human bones, "Lucy- Piper, please Big Sis- don't tell them."

"Starlight..."

Caesar carefully removes herself from the marksmen's hold to cup his face plate and knock her forehead into his. Which can't feel good, considering the pointed appendages on his forehead.

But, of course, the leading lady doesn't even flinch.

"When I lost my arm, you gave me one of your spares without even thinking about it. It pisses me off that someone took that choice from you."

Her grip shifts from Billy's face to his neck, and she guides the android into a... sort of awkward hug. Billy was just this side of too tall to comfortably burrow into her neck standing up.

"You're allowed to be upset about it too, little bro."

"When are you gonna get it through your thick skull that we care about you," Lighter tacks on, shifting his grip to the android's shoulder, "You weren't just a weapon, or my predecessor. You're our brother, Kid."

He continues before Billy can even stumble out a response.

"So- please.."

"...tell us these things," Caesar finishes, "We'll understand."

bonus: Caesar, pulling back: Now. Billy: ...? Caesar: Is that motherfucker still alive? *the android sputters, but can't exactly flee or deflect in his current position* Anby, behind Caesar: o-o7 Lighter: ....ȏvō7

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can't go wrong with some classic "Gnarpy has a crush on the reader but is too proud to admit it and even less likely to do so when there's anyone else who might see"

"You're worried about them, aren't you?"

"Zeep?! What on earth could give you THAT idea, you ztupid concrete man?"

"Well..you haven't stopped pacing around since they got dragged into the Eternal Limbo." Wallter pointed out, both him and Gnarpy well aware that you're currently fighting for your life against Folly on her floor.

Neither of them were able to intervene...not that the alien cat wanted to but secretly xey wish they could obliterate her with their laser beams.

Ever since you arrived at Two Studs Camp and survived the UFO invasion, you've gotten to known Gnarpy well....and by that, I mean how big their ego is and how xe would tout about being a "galactic overlord" all must bow down to.

But you weren't deterred by their rudeness or sass, instead being genuinely curious about their Gnarpian culture, even trying to understand their lingo.

As much as xey poke fun at you, they like how you're at least attempting to speak their language.

Sometimes you'll stop someone from spritzing them with the spray bottle before they get zapped (most of the time, they'd ignore you and suffer the consequences, but still you tried).

Gnarpy, although xey won't admit it, secretly appreciates it. Only you have common sense compared to those dimwits.

As others come and go, they found themselves wanting to stay with you on the elevator and chat more, even when getting to floors xey'd normally get off on.

But they're too proud to ever admit this, seeing you as nothing more than an underling.

No, they didn't think the rose petals you let xem keep were anything more than a gift to your overlord (that they rightfully deserve).

But Wallter saw right through their act once xey began worrying whether you'd survive Folly's attacks.

As someone who was once in love, he could easily tell.

When you defeat her/get spared, Gnarpy asks if you need any medical attention as soon as you pop back into the elevator, before hissing at Wallter for just standing there in the corner smiling.

"What the zoorp are YOU looking at?!"

But they say nothing as you smile back at the concrete man, knowing you've gotten the prideful alien to care about someone for once.

[luimagines]

it didn't answer my question but it was delightful to read nonetheless!!!!!

i meant like.. yk how you mentioned that the chain would doubt human reader more bcs theyre human?? then you said a situation when reader would save sky and sky would be like "nope readers got this fym they dont??" like what situations would happen with the others to make them also be like "nvm readers got this"?

(hopefully this makes sense HELP)

-person who asked about the human reader scenario thing

I've had to think about this for a while so I'm that this took me so long to answer. ^.^*

Twilight: Given that he has no problems with humans, Reader's problem would just winning him over as a person. He finds that he adore them just as much when he first introduces Wolfie to them. They gasped and instantly started complimenting and petting him, much to the horror of everyone else. They couldn't resist giving him kisses and telling what a good boy he was- not recognizing him a wolf. Twilight figures that if Reader likes animals, they're not all that bad.

Sky: His opinion was already mentioned when they got separated from the group and he hurt his ankle, unable to move on. Reader picked him up and carried him on his back until they were able to meet up with the group again. Their stamina and determination impressed him. From there he disregarded the other comments and assumptions about Reader, coming to their aid when they needed him to.

Wind: Being in the middle, Wind didn't really have much of an opinion. Not to mention that his age leaves him more vulnerable to going with the crowd and what the majority says. But there's a moment where his age also leaves him vulnerable as any small boy would. Reader finds him rubbing away the tears when the adventure become too much and lets him cry on their shoulder. They don't make a big deal out of it and help to hide the fact that he broke down from the other heroes. Wind's ego was bruised at being caught, but he's glad that Reader took his pride into account, knowing how much he wanted the other boys to view him as a equal. He'll remember that.

Wild: Reader was willing to eat anything Wild threw their way. they weren't picky and even willing to help make new recipes for Wild to make. They cooked together, sharing stories around the cauldron and laughing about how similar they were, even if they were still so different. Wild doesn't know/remember he's part human, but he knows he's different. Reader was always different so Wild doesn't think they'll see him as anything other than himself- and when they manage to choke down the dubious food he playfully tossed their way. He realized that was an invitation for the biggest prank war of the century. This'll be fun.

Legend: This boy near the end is just petty. At first Reader would meet his sass tit for tat. But after a particularly difficult day, Legend tries to get into the verbal sparring before Reader frustratedly tears up, hands clenched into fists and shaking from the restraint they hold over themselves. They yell at Legend, calling him out on his crap and saying that they're sick of his attitude and they don't understand what they did for him to fight them so much. It occurs to Legend that they were not on the same page after all and the verbal sparring was actually Reader attempting to defend themselves against his barrage of attitude. Reader takes off and Legend gives them time to cool down. He feels bad. He's self conscious enough to realize that he's the one at fault here.

Four: I think he's the simplest to be won over. Obviously, Reader has questions about the weapons he'd make in the forge. Even is Reader doesn't necessarily have the knowledge to meet him toe to toe in blacksmithing, they'd no doubt knowing someone who does. They mention techniques and Four was able to go on and on about his love and his passion with someone who actually listened. It doesn't seem like much to Reader but that sort of connection rewired something in Four's brain. Four may have grown up surrounded by bias but he's the fastest to simplify that Reader, at least, isn't defined but what others have told him.

Warrior: Is always watching them like a hawk. If they're up to something he's going to be the first to know. Because of this long time observation sting operation thing he sees all the little things that Reader does when they think no one is looking. Little by little his bias and hate his chipped away and before he knows it, when Reader is threatened, he's sprinting to come to their aid- worry gnawing at his bones on the off chance he doesn't get there in time. It's only after Reader is tended to and no long in any danger that he realizes the implications of his actions. He wants to hold on to what he thought he knew... but he finds that the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that Reader had already proven a lot of the rumors wrong. He owes them an apology.

Hyrule: As one the least trusting of the group, he would have spent a lot of time avoiding Reader just on principle. But then he gets a bad hit. Sliced right across his abdomen. He's bleeding out. There's a lot of blood loss. He's worried about the curse. The monsters. Hyrule. Reader is suddenly above him, pinning him down, refusing the very concept of him losing more blood. They're covered in the crimson liquid quickly. Despite not able to feel or use magic, they patch him up. They stich him together again. Through sheer force of will they refuse to let him die. They don't take advantage of his weakness. They don't use his blood for anything he would have thought they would. He passes out with his life in their hands and a debt to pay.

Time: Is skeptical of new people as a rule. But he never really believed the rumors of humans anyway. He just never had a personal experience with them and he knew better after everything he's gone through to make that call without have first hand information. There was a moment where they were about to check in to an inn but Reader was denied access. To avoid a fight, they stayed with Epona in the stables for the night. Time was furious with the concept. The next day, after herding them away from the others he asks why they didn't fight back. Why didn't they stand up for themselves? Reader explains that's just how it is between Hylians and humans. They don't expect anything glamorous when dealing with them. They say that being the bigger person comes at a price but they're not willing to sacrifice their head for the sake of someone who doesn't know them and will never see them again. Time isn't happy with this answer. It's not right. And isn't it a hero's job to fix what's wrong?

[beifong-brainrot]

Ok @i-put-the-ass-into-sass and @justlikedsstuff the floodgates are open.

Imagining all the Beifongs, not just Toph having extremely sensitive seismic sense.

Just i imagine it's a very strong experience, strong enough to literally replace a sense. I imagine that it can be incredibly overwhelming for people who use it alongside other senses, eg. not replacing a sense like in Toph's case. I also imagine that the younger you learn it, the bigger difficulty you have 'turning it off'.

I like to imagine it can cause migraines and overstimulation in frequent users. But being unable to use it can cause anxiety and distress, as losing any other sense would.

Lin and Su knowing when their mother is lying about coming back home before dinner.

Su listening to her mother and sister's heartbeats and wishing that they'd just speak what was on their hearts.

Lin hearing Tenzin's heart speading up when he would look at Pema and not her. Lin having difficulty walking and keeping herself balanced after losing her bending to Amon, feeling literally blinded. Trying to keep it together in front of Amon and the Equalists but having a panic attack the moment she's alone because she can't feel anything, she can't feel anything, she can't feel anything

Su being hesitant to teach Huan and the twins seismic sense, because she knows how difficult it is for children to handle. But of course, they're stubborn little things and they start learning by themselves.

Its a very rare ability, but it comes surprisingly easy to the Beifongs. Though the cost is thay children are made to deal with senses sharper than their little minds are meant for.

I always headcanon that Huan has a particularly well developed seismic sense, which is the reason he's so testy and emotional. He can feel almost everything around the house (think dolores from encanto lol) and he has difficulty processing the overwhelming amount of stimuli. He tries to express it through art and he wears thick soled shoes to block it all out.

The twins are quite the opposite. They lean into it, so much so that they refused to wear shoes when they were younger. They were also heavily affected by being suspended in a wooden cage after the family's capture. To this day they feel incredibly anxious if seperated from it for too long.

Thinking about Opal and Baatar Jr not getting the sheer magnitude of feeling everything around you like that and thinking that their siblings are just being dramatic.

Thinking about the Beifongs pulling up their feet or trying to touch the ground as little as possible when stressed or overwhelmed. Or walking barefoot if upset or unsure, to get that connection.

Thinking sbout sensing heartbeats. Hearing the moment something or someone dies for the first time. Is it an animal, a random baby bird killed by an alley cat, a beloved pet? Or is it a person?

Lin killing a criminal in the line of duty. It wasn't her fault, technically. She did everything right, she defended the civilians he was holding hostage. But she tried to block the bleeding, hearing his heatbeat get slower and slower, until it stopped completely. How empty her head must've seemed when she could no longer hear it. How visceral the guilt must've been.

Arguments must be difficult. You can feel when you hit a nerve, sense the other person's anger, tell when they go completely cold towards you.

You can never lie, not to your family. No little white lies that make day to day life easier. No secrets. All blunt honesty and beating hearts filling your ears.

You immediately know when you've said something wrong. When you've hurt someone's feelings. The guilt is instantaneous. The slight skip of someone's heartbeat is like a slap to the face.

You know when someone's lying to you. You know they're lying when they say they'll be back for dinner. You know they're lying when they tell you they'll hang out with you tomorrow. You know they're lying when they say that they love you.

Do you call them out?

Or do you keep the peace, grin and bear it?

Can you even lie to yourself, or will your own heart betray you to yourself?

You know when a sibling is crying down the hall, know that they will be witness to every intimate moment you have, as the you will be to them.

Like there's so much to do with seismic sense. I want it to be less of a gimmick and more of a deep psychological experience. Like it is in all its essence a sense. It's probably a big part of its users lives.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

Hear me out, this probably isn't really too crazy to say but Step 2 would be a perfect fit for the Jerk Squad

And considering how Frederick and Nichole are, tbh I can see them sending Tam to the boarding school in XOXO Droplets because of the prestige and wanting their daughter to have the best academics the US education system can offer (assuming they ended up taking her back when the originally planned)

Qiu would thrive but Tamarack would barely be swimming but damn now I'm out here trying to develop ships and shit. Are y'all seeing my vision here???

I can see Everett crushing on Qiu for sure honestly. He would like the way they carry themselves, one hot jerk to another.

Ngl I can see Nate and Tamarack becoming a thing once he gets over the emotional intimacy fear thing. I say this because in my head, I see NateTam being a childhood ??? to lovers type beat. Their parents all went to the same university and are all good friends, so they grew up knowing each other. He's known Tam since their elementary school days back when she was just an energetic wild child who got on his nerves and saw her transform into the shy, insecure person she is in Step 2. So he begrudgingly looks out for her, in his own Nate way, at their school. Part because his parents told him to and ask him about Tamarack incessantly and part because he kinda, sorta, lowkey, can quietly admit he cares about her. Kind of. You won't catch him admitting that shit out loud for a WHILE though

(JB calls Tamarack 'Candi with an I' because her eyes remind JB of candied apples)

And hear me out... Jeremy and Tamarack. Tamarack's autumn gold gamboge hair with its beautiful sparkles is what makes Jeremy stop hating the color orange. Like it would be rocky of course, especially since whether regardless Tam wouldn't be a Jerk Squad member, but I can see it still coming to fruition. Like I'm not sure what exactly the dynamic would be... but I still see it. She gets a job working at his parents' shop, he listens to her practice the cello and doesn't have much to complain about which is basically as much glaze as someone can get from the guy, so yeah. Pretty high praise. His parents would be all over setting him and Tamarack up because she's so sweet, they think she would be perfect for him.

Sweet as Tamarack is though, she's opinionated and is one to move forward even if someone else won't go with her. She's got some sass and spunk so she won't be so sweet that Jeremy wouldn't be able to stand being around her for long periods of time.

But I also think Jeremy and Qiu would be really good together too honestly. Not just aesthetically, but I think they'd get a kick out of each in their own way. Plus, Qiu knowing Pran already helps

Feed my delusions in the ask box. What's your OL/XOXO crossover thoughts?

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Teeth

Part 4!

Werepanther! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Masterlist

Oh, @marvelmusing, I bet you thought that was the last of it...

Warnings: heavy voyeurism, smut, hints of angst.

B.Russo.

That's what he'd written on the scrap of paper. What was the 'B' for?

Probably Big cock because honestly, even though you had resisted temptation and not looked, his entire vibe expressed in detail how big his dick probably was.

He was... really something. His entire aura made you want to curl up beside him, have him hold you protectively while you slept. You just wanted to touch him, and keep touching him, and maybe kiss him if he wanted.

The memory of some of your dreams of him come to mind, they'd been eerily vivid, slow kisses and eager touches and words that you couldn't remember but the feeling of hearing them was seared into you.

Fuck, you might like him a little more than you expected.

You wanted to text him, maybe send him a message, but you were so trapped by fear.

What if he hadn't meant it like that? Maybe this was just for emergencies, and he would find you annoying if you tried. Maybe he found you annoying enough already.

You sigh, putting your phone down.

Where had that sarcastic girl inside of you gone? The one that had sassed a serial killer who was about to end her?

You'd felt yourself change so much after that experience, scared of the world around you, and you missed her, you missed the person that you used to be.

She wouldn't have had any problems asking a hot guy his name.

Then again, William wasn't just any hot guy, he was still a client, and you definitely should not get involved.

He was probably just extending a courtesy to you anyway.

.

It was annoying how much he found himself staring at his phone.

Fuck. Had he come on too strong?

He rubs a tired hand over his face, exhausted.

The predator was scratching at the inside of his mind endlessly, turning his brain to shreds. Demanding he go to her, demanding he find her, and kiss her, and pick her up, seat her soft body on his, feel the heat of her arousal between her thighs-

His phone rings.

Fuck.

Truly, everything was so tedious now, mind-numbingly boring. He no longer wanted to spend long hours at the office, sacrificing his personal time for work, he wanted you. He wanted an existence, where he could go home to you, crawl into bed beside you, rest his body beside yours, stay there beside you until he rots, leaving only your bones and his together, a lifetime of eternal peace.

He blinks, realises how insane his thoughts are.

He didn't know the first thing about you.

No, that wasn't true, he knew lots, he knew how you laughed and he knew the sound of your voice and the scent of your skin and there was a million more things to learn and he wanted to know them all.

.

"Surprise!" Dani exclaims as you open the door to her.

You laugh in amusement, unable to see much of her face through the magnificently large palm plant in her hands.

"How on earth are you holding on to that? It's fucking huge." You say, stepping aside to let her in.

"I'm strong, I get by." She replies easily, moving to place the plant by your nearest window.

You watch her, as you close the front door.

She grabs at the heavy curtains, pulling them aside to let some sunlight in.

"Oh, this place is awesome, I love the little balcony." She comments, staring out of the windows.

You grin.

"Thanks, honestly, I don't go out there much." Or even open your curtains, but you'd definitely have to have some sunlight come in now for your new plant friend.

"Can I?" She asks, and waits for your nod of approval before pulling the glass door open.

The cool air of the morning spills in, you find yourself liking it, appreciating new things about your new apartment.

Truthfully, having the windows open made you a little bit on edge, you didn't know who would be able to look in, and it paired oddly with your feeling of constantly being watched.

Outside certainly wasn't too bad though, as you inched closer to the window, you found that you could see a little into the house next door, a kitchen area and a little bit of a sitting area, with a cute fireplace.

This was his house, you realise with abject facination.

"Who's house?" Dani asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Uh, the guy I was telling you about, who helped me with my bags the other day."

"Big dick Russo?"

You smile.

"Yeah, him."

"Hmm, nice place." She comments, moving away from the window.

When your second friend arrives, she brings a jar of cacao nibs and a crate of strawberries.

You happily thank Amy, washing some of the strawberries and settling into the couch to enjoy them.

You'd been friends with Dani and Amy for a lot of your life, and you'd come a long way with them. They were both there that night, you'd been trying to keep them safe when you'd taken off running.

You remember the aftermath, stumbling back toward the sound of their voices calling your name, trying to explain to them, with barely any breath left in your lungs, what had happened.

They hadn't left you alone for even a second that night, at least one of them in sight at all times.

If it weren't for them, the aftermath would have decimated you.

You curl up happily with your strawberries, listening to their little updates.

You smile when Dani turns her concerned eyes to you, she asks how you've been sleeping.

"Actually a lot better here. I feel surprisingly safe."

She nods in understanding.

"Yeah, the doorman looked at me so suspiciously it was almost funny. If you didn't call ahead, he might have kicked me out."

You smile, nodding.

"No more surprise birthday parties for me."

"Well, I can always seduce him into letting me in." She says with a shrug of her shoulder, earning a laugh from you.

Amy, who has been making herself a cup of tea, squeaks loudly.

You spin to look at her, her eyes open comically wide, hands clamped over her mouth as she stares out the open door to the balcony.

"Oh my god, what?" Dani says, standing suddenly to move to another window, parting the curtains slightly to look out.

She looks for a second, eyes scanning the area in confusion, before her mouth drops open.

"What?" you say moving to take a peek over her shoulder.

At first you don't see it, you don't know where to look, your first thought was something on the roof of the next building or maybe the ground below, before movement in the opposite window catches your eye.

Your mouth goes dry.

His hair is wet, fresh from a shower, his torso is bare. You blink, trying to double check that he was in fact there, in his kitchen, half-naked after a shower, a towel wrapped around his hips.

He reaches into one of the taller cupboards, grabbing a mug, the muscles of his back flexing as he closes the cupboard door.

Your body tingles at the sight of him. You watch him scratch the corner of his lip absentmindedly as he checks his phone, turning away to disappear deeper into his home where you can't see.

"Jesus Christ." Dani whispers, reminding you that she was there, a small frown forming on your face as you realise that you're not the only one admiring him.

"We shouldn't be watching him." You try to say, looking at Amy, who does not draw her eyes away from the window.

Dani's gasp pulls your attention, and you try to peek over her shoulder once more.

His hair is askew, his body a little less wet now, black boxers replacing the towel on his hips.

"That's a big dick for sure." Dani whispers.

"Stop. Enough." You say with finality, reaching around her to shut the curtains in her face.

You close in the balcony door next, avoiding looking over as you draw the curtains shut.

Everyone is silent for a moment, before Amy says your name.

"Please send him a text." She says, with pleading eyes.

You let out a little huff.

.

There's a fascination for him that does not leave you, and when you find him in your dreams later that night, you make sure to express all your pent up frustrations very clearly.

He's standing in your living room, studying the little palm tree. He turns to you with a smile when he senses you approaching.

You are not smiling.

Hands gripping his wrists, you pull at him, almost angry in your feverish movements.

He looks stunned when you push him to a sitting position on your couch.

You're still in your vintage night dress, all soft fabrics and little bows, you raise the hem, sliding yourself onto his lap easily.

He's still looking at you with surprised eyes, he doesn't know what's brought this on but he does not want to stop it in any way.

"What will it take to make you mine?" You whisper, leaning into him. His eyebrows draw together, confused.

"I already am." he answers easily, just as your noses brush.

"I wish you were," you say harshly against his mouth, "I wish you knew how badly I want you."

"I was made for you." He confesses, a promise against your lips as his fingers secure themselves to the spot behind your neck, pulling you in.

Your mouths meld together, a blissful sigh from each mouth.

Your body calls out to him, empty, aching.

You take his free hand, guiding it slowly over your thigh, so that he touches the spot right over your womb.

"I need you right here." You gasp into his mouth, and you feel his fingers tighten reflexively on the back of your neck.

He says your name, a whispered prayer.

"Please. I'm so tired of being empty." You plead, ready to beg if he would just give you what you crave.

"I'm right here," he promises, hands caressing either side of your face, kissing your lips one more time for good measure.

"And I'm not going anywhere."

When you wake, it's with a sad sigh.

It's odd, to be this disastrously needy, and yet feel an ache in your chest like never before.

You strip your nightdress off, your body exposed to the cool air of your room, only your underwear on to shield you from what you're about to do next.

You're not thinking when you pull your bedroom curtains open, all you want, is for him to see.

It doesn't matter that he's a stranger, or that he's a client. In the dark of the night, with the moonlight streaming in, all you want him to be, is yours.

.

He isn't expecting it.

So when he moves to his windows to check for movement, he doesn't think it's real.

For a moment, he thinks he might still be dreaming.

But no.

There you are.

Your curtains parted, and he can see right into your bedroom, the moonlight soft on your gorgeous skin.

You writhe on your sheets, one hand on your breast, the other- he swallows- the other under the lining of your panties.

You were playing with yourself.

His heart hammers in his head, the predator roars.

He watches, it doesn't take much for you to come, back arching, quiet gasps, trembling thighs.

Your chest heaves as you try to suck in air. He wishes he was in the room with you. The scent of your cunt must be filling the room by now, despite the flimsy piece of fabric between your thighs.

What were you thinking about? Was it him?

You tug your fingers out of your underwear, his mouth waters at the sight of your glistening fingers.

He groans, backs away from the windows so that his silhouette isn't visible. Watches you close the curtains, and disappear from his view.

It's well into the morning, long after he's been awake, after his Sunday morning run, he's standing in his kitchen, blending a smoothie, when his phone goes off, a little picture display telling him exactly who it is.

'What's the 'B' in your name stand for?'

Billy smiles.

.

.

.

[misscinnamonroll16]

Brozone headcanons

John is afraid of flying. If he can't walk to where he needs to be, he'll talk Rhonda. If it's too far of a drive, he'll hustle. If he can't hustle his way there, then it must not be important enough for him to go. Probably stems from fear of having someone else in charge of things and it going wrong.

Clay was always the kid who basically refused to wear clothes. They'd get home and he'd be in his underwear/ naked before John Dory could stop him. As he got older, it still happened just he no longer got completely naked. Baby Clay running from JD who's trying to put a diaper on his naked ass.

John Dory knows his brothers and knows them well despite how they've changed. He hears someone softly padding down the hall and chuckles "Clay getting up to get a glass of water because he got absorbed into a book." He just knows them so well because he watched them grow up.

John Dory despite that he's been living by himself for twenty years, is still kinda strict about manners.

"Get your elbows off the table!"

"Cover your mouth when you burp."

"Sit properly."

JD, Clay and Floyd often crinkle their nose when expressing happiness, disgust, or when being playful

All the bros push things closed with their hip/butt

Bruce and John often give Clay shit for being a nerd. It's such a little thing but they each missed it so much

JD/Bruce: you're a nerd

Clay: I am not a nerd!

JD/ Bruce: you're great at math and read dorky books, you're a nerd.

John Dory directs the newer Brozone music videos. He has the most experience with a camera, usually has a solid vision and the bros tend to listen to him despite how they don't like to.

Growing up, John Dory and Bruce were fiercely protective of Floyd. Because they KNEW before Floyd did. Because he saw how protective his older brothers were being, Clay was also super protective of Floyd. He didn't know why but he assumed there was a reason

John and Clay are LOUD mouths. Their voices carry

All the bros are nosy, Floyd's just the most idgaf

All the bros hair has a slight wave to it

John Dory was a chunky baby

All the brothers are protective when it comes to their brother's partners. Brandy and Poppy are excluded. John takes on the "father" role with the shovel talking and openly talking about killing and hunting things. Bruce is much more open and doesn't directly threaten but implies it. Clay uses his ability to walk silently to make sure they're going to treat his brother right, more or less eavesdropping. Floyd is SASSING and backhanded compliments, making sure they know he doesn't like them right off the bat. Branch doesn't understand this protective feeling but doesn't fight it, he's practically waiting for his cue from the others to go feral if need be

Floyd didn't know how to tie his shoes until he was like 7. Nothing the oldest two did made it stick for him so for the longest time he wore Velcro

[i-write-things]

Obey Me! NB boys: Who would most willingly have kids

(Note: NONE of them would ever pressure you into having kids. I'm saying this now so I don't have to repeat it every time.)

1.Beelzebub:

Any surprise here? I can't remember where I saw it, but I do remember seeing somewhere he said he'd love to start a family. If you don't ask him about kids, he might ask you, first. He'd be a great dad, too. He'd be calm, supportive, and his kids would always be well fed and have plenty of exercise. They'd grow up big and strong like him! :) He'd also do that thing when they're little (and when theyre grown, too) where He'd use them as weights to lift up while he does push ups. He'd also carry them on his back everywhere. If it's a baby, he'd be a little tired of having to get up every night to calm their screams, but he'd get used to it because he makes himself a deal: he'll just get a snack every time the baby cries at night. Speaking of if it's a baby, he'd be afraid he'd crush it at first, and refuse to hold them. But once he finally holds them, he refuses to let any stranger hold them. His biggest fear is his child not being safe. Protective Beel! Oh, and they'd get a LOT of visits from uncle Belphie.

2.Mammon

Ok, here me out- he'd essentially be Bandit from Bluey (Dont ask). He'd make sure his kids are clever and he'd most certainly teach them to gamble from a young age, and how to cheat. He'd be very over protective, but also really fun. His worst nightmare is his kids growing up to hate him. He'll never admit it, but he stops cheating so much to earn money. While he wants his kids to grow up learning how to make quick cash, deep down, he just wants them to be good kids. So he also tries to set a good example and work for his money. All his brothers are shocked, and they'll tease him for it. And of course, Mammon being Mammon, will deny deny deny! The brother that baby sits the most for him is probably Lucifer, actually. (He doesn't trust Mammon at first. Jk, he trusts Mammon a lot with this, actually.... mostly)

3. Satan

You may be thinking, 'Pen, you're absolutely stupid and don't know anything about OM!, nor how to write in character', and you may be right, but let me cook!

You see, Satan at first isn't too keen on the idea of a child. All they do is scream and cry shit themselves and eat then cry some more. And when they're a teenager, they'll just sass him. And he does NOT like the idea of that. But all you have to do is appeal. Example:

Tell him to imagine the following: A 4 or 5, maybe even 6 year old boy or girl that's a mini version of him. Running around the house of lamentation, screaming curses about Lucifer, who can't do anything because they're a child who doesn't know any better. They'd be able to get away with anything and he could use that to his advantage. Now he's hooked, and he'll think about it, but despite his hate for poor Luci, he's still aware that it's a lot of responsibility. Which is why you have to reassure him that that's why you'll raise the baby together. Plus, imagine taking the child to the library, reading to them. They get to develop their own personality. Which is when teenhood becomes fun, because it's not about the sass, it's about the fun personality they've developed.

His biggest fear for his child is his child becoming like him. He doesn't want that. He'd prefer his child become like Lucifer than to see himself in his child (though not by a lot) Oh, and he trusts Asmo enough to be super gentle with the child. (Mostly because he threatened to kill Asmo if the baby is hurt) but also because he knows that the baby would be in gentle hands!

4. Lucifer

Lucifer isn't so quick to agree for 2 reasons.

He's always busy, what if he ends up neglecting the child in favor of work? And then you'll end up taking care of the child in its most vital years to have both parents present (though every year is vital to have both parents present). Of course, you'll just reassure him that Diavolo would give him some leave time in favor of raising the baby, and the brothers would help with his work load in the meantime.

2. Ok, but what about his brothers? That's the thing, he feels like he's already a father of 6. He won't be able to look after them as much because a baby is far too much time. They'll be running loose like chickens without heads in no time. You'll have to tell him he'll just have to have faith in his brothers. At first, he scoffs at the idea. But...he thinks about it. And the more he does, the more he agrees. Finally, he'll take you out somewhere private to tell you that he agrees. He wants to have a baby.

His worst fear is his child not feeling like he was present in his life. He already knows what it's like to have someone related to you hate youSatan, so it would be nothing new to him, though it would still hurt. Yet, his worst fear is his child growing up feeling like he was never there for his them. This will result in him constantly switching his attention time during teenage years from super clingy because he wants to be present, to a little distant because he doesn't want to come off as clingy. You better bring it to his attention and help him find a happy medium before your child starts to resent him for this. Oh, and the brother he trusts most to look after his kid is Mammon. This may sound stupid, but we all know Mammon would at least keep the kid alive. (Like Satan, he'll tear Mammon limb from limb if otherwise) but if Mammon isn't present, he'll ask Satan. Though, he can't be surprised if Satan has taught his child how to say 'fuck Lucifer' as one of their first phrases.

5. Asmodeus

Like Satan, he doesn't really want a child for the same reasons. They just cry, they take a lot of time, he won't be able to get his beauty sleep at night, ect. Also like Satan, you'll just have to appeal. Imagine all the cute family photos he can take! Plus, wouldn't the child be beautiful? 'Oh, but what about when they grow up and go through some weird emo phase?' Well, you guys will just have to accept them for that. And when (if) they grow out of the phase, y'all can continue to support them and then finally take family pictures again. And if they never grow out of the goth phase, you'll just have another Belphie. He laughs, and is a little more calm. It takes maybe some few months before he brings up the idea, saying that he thinks he's ready. His biggest fear is his child growing up unloved by their peers, so he tries to dress them up pretty all the time. You might have to remind him to let the child explore their own style for a bit, and he'll reluctantly agree at first, then be very willing later on. He doesn't want people to see his child as anything but pretty, but understands how important it is for the child to have their own style and feel supported for it. But he's keeping all them embarrassing baby photos. And he's definitely showing them off to his child's romantic partner (if they're not aro/ace). The brother he trusts the most to handle his child is Lucifer. He knows the child will be safe. He would pick Satan, but....y'know.

6. Leviathan

For obvious reasons, at first it's a no. He won't be able to play games as much, the baby will always be crying, ect. But you'll have to remind him that it's a team effort, and he won't be the only one taking care of the child. Plus, once the baby grows up, he'll always have someone to play games with. To which he responds they might not like games. You can counter that if they're constantly surrounded by games, they'll become a familiar source of comfort, and they'll likely love games. Same for any cartoon or anime he makes them watch. He'll give you plenty of excuses, but they're all bullshit. His biggest reason(and secret) is he thinks he'll be a horrible, embarrassment of a father. His child won't think he's cool, and might even get bullied a lot. I mean, imagine having some lame Otaku for a father. Sad, right? But just tell him that his child will love him because he's their father, and no matter what, they'll be proud to call him dad, just like you'll be proud to call him their dad. He tears up afterwards, and maybe a while later, he'll shyly approach you and tell you he's ready. He'll pay less attention to video games and anime for a while, but when he gets a break, if he's not sleeping, he's catching up on all the anime. His worst fear is his child becoming lonely like him. So he makes sure the child grows up with a pet of some kind. That way, they'll learn to be social. Oh, and if it's a boy, he'll try his damndest to name him Henry, and if it's a girl, Hana and/or Yuri. The brother he trusts the most is also Lucifer. He would say Beel, but he doesn't want him to eat his child (Beel would never), and he would say Asmo, but he doesn't want to receive an Asmo Jr. Oh, and Mammon isn't allowed near the child.

7. Belphagore

Last, and least surprisingly, Belphie. A child is wayyyyyyy too much responsibility for little old him. Plus, they cry all the time, he wouldn't be able to sleep. I'm not sure if you really could convince him to have a baby. If you did, it would be years in advance before he would agree. I think the best route is to just prove to him that the responsibility will be shared (and worth it), and he could still get sleep from time to time. Which would help. But if y'all ever do have a baby, he'll slack off a lot. You'll probably get into a couple of arguments because you'll be doing most of the work in toddler and infant years. (Most likely to get divorced over the child if y'all are married. Not saying it will happen, though. Just most likely out of the brothers.) Eventually, after ranting to Beel, he'll realize he has been a shit father at first. To the child, and to you. (Thank Beel for getting through to him). Like Beel, his worst fear is his kids not being safe. He really doesn't care how they turn out as long as they're happy and healthy. After he finally starts taking initiative as a parent, he becomes over protective. If its a girl, he sees Lilith in her, and he wont let her go. Obviously, he trusts Beel the most with his kids.

[powdermelonkeg]

Out of curiosity, why Gale/Taliesin? I'd have thought you'd match Astarion with Taliesin and maybe Lucien or Remiel with Gale. Not to say I dislike the ship, I can see the potential, but I'm curious where it came from.

Funny answer:

"I have a cat, a library, and a weakness for a good glass of wine. And if the mood takes me, I'm known to try my hand at poetry."

Divines, ask him to dinner before you make a proposal, Gale! Have some decorum!

Serious answer:

So, I do get the impulse to match like with like. Astarion and Taliesin have a LOT in common; roguelike qualities and smooth, self-assured charm, an affinity for knife tricks, sass and drama, some good vanity. Same with Gale and Lucien (can't say anything for Remiel, haven't had a chance to do a proper playthrough with her yet).

But camaraderie and shared personality traits don't necessarily mean they'd compliment each other in a romantic sense.

Let's start with Lucien. He's the youngest of the group, younger even than Wyll (iirc, Joseph said he was 21? He might be a couple years older, but regardless, Wyll is 24). Bubbly, bright, full of enthusiasm and scholarly wit, with a penchant for jokes and a drive for exploration.

Can Lucien talk Gale out of blowing himself up for Mystra?

Would he, Mr. I'm-going-to-ride-a-daedric-horse, my-new-best-friend-is-a-murderous-automaton, discourage Professor Hubris from claiming the Crown of Karsus?

I think Lucien would be concerned for Gale. I think he would know the right option. But I don't think he has the finesse to navigate the tangled weave (heh) that makes up Gale. Lucien is naive, he's sweet, he's willing to accommodate, to the point that I don't think he could tell Gale "no" when it mattered most.

Would they get along? Absolutely! Lucien could teach Gale how to handle magicka, Gale could teach Lucien how to conduct the Weave. Both of them could have lengthy philosophical debates that go over everyone else's heads. Gale would have enough caution to temper Lucien's dwemerology enthusiasm, Lucien would encourage all kinds of discovery into Tamriel's wonders. But I see that manifesting as a mentor-apprentice sort of relationship. Still very close, but having them depend on each other in the way Gale approaches romance would be...self-destructive, I think.

Taliesin and Astarion are a similar, if slightly more dark-tinted, deal. Tally's just gotten out of an organization of horrible, horrible people, whose actions in which he was complicit. He's trying to be better. Astarion has just left a situation of literal slavery to one of the most awful people on the Sword Coast. He's enjoying the chance to be worse. We know how Astarion feels and his opinions on things; he likes hurting people, he's very self-centered, he has a lot to work on himself across his entire character arc as he comes into his freedom.

Personally, I think they'd make each other worse.

That's not to say that I can't see it happening. I could, definitely. It would take a good chunk of meeting in the middle, tiptoeing around each other's baskets that they're struggling to unpack, Tally's aversion to vampires, Astarion's casual cruelty as he lashes out. My personal opinion is that any getting involved would be via Astarion's seduce-and-fling strategy so he gets that foot in the door for Tally's sympathy, and Tally not ever taking it further because Astarion reminds him too much of his fellow justiciars and never assumed it to be more than transactional.

If they DID somehow make it to the endgame, assuming they did everything right, I can see it all falling apart at Cazador.

Tally would probably object to Astarion becoming the Ascendant. Everything in Astarion's life points to ascension being a dangerous thing--if not for continuing Cazador's reign of terror, in subjecting mortals to his will and viewing them all as beneath him, because Astarion's cruel streak would get all the power to fuel every whim it draws up. That kind of dynamic, on a romantic plane especially, is SCARY. If he fails to persuade him but still refuses to help, Astarion leaves him: "I hope you die screaming."

But say Tally DID let him become Ascendant. Whoever the man he fell in love with before ascending is dead. Astarion is a wholly different person with that much power. And he wants to make you his spawn. I can't see Tally willingly becoming a vampire, and I DEFINITELY can't see him becoming a vampire without free will. His whole deal with leaving the Thalmor is getting his autonomy back and being able to make his own decisions. So they leave each other.

I see Tally/Astarion ending in abject tragedy either way. An entertaining story, definitely, but one that brings out the worst in both parties until its inevitable spiral, if it even takes off the ground.

Hence, why Wyll is with Astarion in my plans. He'd bring out the good in Astarion, Astarion would crack the self-sacrificing shell Wyll has. They'd compensate for each other's flaws and compliment each other's strengths. I could write an entire essay about their potential dynamic, not to mention all the flirty lines between them in-game.

Would Tally and Astarion be friends? Absolutely. They share gossip and snark around the campfire. Would Tally help Astarion absolutely gut Cazador? Would Astarion offer to carve out Tally's dad's throat? Definitely. The two are inseparable, and would kill anyone who dared raise a finger against the other. They'd mull over their shared plights of terrible overlords and being used and abused. They'd push each other's buttons and be petty together until it was time to buckle down and win a fight, then celebrate after. But a romance would require so much compromise on one side or the other that I think they both risk falling to pieces over it. There's much more room for differences in lifestyle if you're not planning to spend your life with someone and pour the whole of your heart out to them.

Now, the crux of the question: Gale/Taliesin.

The way Gale shows love is in unwavering devotion. However, he never expects it in return; he's prepared to make his case many times over when he first asks you for an artifact, and half-expects you to throw him away when he reveals the bomb in his chest.

Taliesin is willing to follow his rescuer to the ends of Nirn if you save him. Even into dwemer ruins that terrify him, even if you (to his knowledge) go as mad as Septimus when you read the Elder Scroll, he's prepared to look out for you. Even when it's your destiny to fight the end of the world and be surrounded by death as you do it, with a high probability that he'd be a casualty.

Gale's fatal flaw is his hubris. Tally would have no problems telling him "no" when the Crown came into play, or any other similar power for that matter.

If you talk to Taliesin about his past, he mentions that at one point, his father made him resent many aspects of himself, "even [his] own body."

Gale is willing to marry a MIND FLAYER if they're the person he's come to love. Completely seriously! He loves them! He doesn't even flinch, he even pays them mind flayer-specific compliments in the epilogue and means it with his whole heart!

Would Tally be willing to hang out with the walking apocalypse? Would he be able to talk down detonating the orb, and beg Gale to choose him over the Absolute's demise? Would he be able to tell Gale that going for the Crown of Karsus is a bad idea? Would he be willing to put his enchanting skills to use to buy Gale a few more days of life? Would he like Gale for the man he is over the magic he commands?

Would Gale be able to commit himself to Tally, regardless of how different Altmer are from Eladrin? Would he appreciate every part of Tally, no matter how he differs from conventional Altmer standards? Would he be willing to stand between Tally and his dad, and do it without shattering the rest of Tally's family (as murder threats would)? Would he appreciate Tally for the mer he is, the mer he's TRYING to be, as Tally leaves the Thalmor behind?

They both share a taste in books, both educational and spicy. They both like cooking, and Gale would be willing to cook up vegetarian meals in a snap. They both have a curiosity for culture and knowledge they have yet to encounter. They both love cats and a good bottle of wine.

The clone spell would let Gale match Tally's lifespan.

Tally would love and pay perfect respects to Tara (as everyone SHOULD).

Misty Step could be a solution to crossing bodies of water, and Ice Spike could be an upgrade to Ray of Frost.

Imagine, after several tendays of roughing it, a perfect illusion of a fancy date on a warm shoreline under the stars.

Imagine the two of them reading together by a warm hearth while it pours outside, wearing silk robes and sipping Alto Wine.

I think they'd bring out the best in each other, they'd enjoy each other's company and each other's idea of relaxation, and they'd share enough interests that they'd be happy to trade back and forth.

Also I think Gale's mother would absolutely love him. She HAS to meet him. And spoil him. He'd join her and Tara for tea and gossip, I guarantee it.

[privateanxieties]

Stay?

In honor of our fallen comrade AO3, here's a 3.1K Frank Castle fic.

Summary: Frank is forced to call in a favor from an old acquaintance he hasn't seen since his second tour. What he gets is more than he bargained for, and for the first time in his life, he doesn't think that's such a bad thing.

Pair: Frank Castle x Reader (she/her); flirting, banter, Frank Castle needs a hug, fluff, NO sMut SorRy

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

He shouldn't fucking be here, especially at sundown. That much was clear based on the telltale signs of trepidation in his hands and chest. No, he wasn't shaking. Frank Castle was not a pussy. But, he also was not certain she wouldn't shoot him on sight — or even through the wooden door.

Damn Curtis for being bedridden.

"Can't cover your six this time, Frank," he'd said on the end of a cough. "But I know someone who can."

Yeah. Frank knew too. He knew exactly what her skillset was and why it earned her the name full metal cunt less than four months into her first tour. He didn't particularly approve of the moniker, despite agreeing with the underlying meaning. The guys that bestowed it upon her were jackasses, but even they'd had to yield some quiet respect in the face of facts. That's what one got for being the best damn sniper of all active battalions at that time.

Frank hadn't seen her since before Kandahar. Curtis had been cagey on the details, but if his own memory served, she'd been pulled from the ranks and reassigned too — on the other side of the world. Covert ops were a dime a dozen in those days. Last Frank heard from her, they were supposed to—

The door flew open with a quiet click. Whether the click had come from the lock or his brain, he wasn't sure. She stood in front of him like a one-two punch on legs. 

"You know, the rain check for that beer expired a while ago, Castle."

Maybe he was about to expire, if he kept staring at the exposed skin of her shoulder where the black silk robe had slid off. It didn't leave a whole lot to mystery, and it worked wonders to reveal just how little of a threat she considered him. He couldn't imagine she'd have answered the door in that get-up if she expected company of a hostile nature. He cleared his throat and stood the slightest bit taller.

"That's what the flowers are for, sweetheart," he grumbled out at last, gripping the bouquet tighter and shifting subtly on his feet. Her eyes narrowed.

"Something making you nervous?"

Not subtle enough, apparently.

"Hoyle call?" he asked, deflecting her question.

"Of course he called. You'd be dead if he hadn't," she shot back plainly. The tilt of her neck drew his eyes to the damp skin for a brief moment. Freshly showered. Faint jasmine in the air.

"C'mon… I'm not that scary. Am I?" he joked, lips pulling at the edges.

"Scary? No," her voice sang ever-so-gently. She was scanning him from head to toe. "But, given that everyone you've paid a house visit to lately has wound up full of holes, the working policy ought to have been on sight."

"Not if you ain't involved in anything unsavory."

"I have a pile of catshit that needs cleaning. That unsavory enough?" she asked, right eyebrow raised delicately.

Sometimes — and he would deny it even under torture — Frank loved having his balls busted by someone as quick-witted as her. Where Lieberman nagged and sassed him without much success, she was right on target every time. He liked a challenge.

"Didn't peg you for a cat lover," he forwarded, fighting back a smirk.

A flicker of emotion came and went, but Frank thought he caught just the right amount of smugness in the second it passed over her face. She looked pleased, like his assessment of her character was correct. A moment later she was stepping back, gesturing for him to come inside and accepting the flowers with both her hands. If he'd splurged for the largest bouquet, it was in accordance with the favor he was about to ask.

"It's not my cat. If it was, I wouldn't have named it something as stupid as Chonks," she explained as he followed her down the hallway and into the living room of her surprisingly spacious apartment. The furnishings were nothing fancy, at least not in Frank's view, but the sheer square footage did catch his attention.

"Rent dry you out every month, Corporal?"

It wasn't his place to ask, and he didn't really give a shit, but he did want to rattle her chain. Just a little bit. Questioning her choice of rentals and calling her by rank was a good enough start. He watched her retrieve a vase from the open floor kitchen and fill it with water to the midpoint.

"Not that it's any of your business, but no. I'm doing alright for myself. Though, I don't blame you for being suspicious, what with…" she paused, waving her hand in a vague motion. "…everything."

Frank's jaw tightened. She noticed the moment it happened.

"I meant Kandahar. You can unclench your asshole," she commented lightly, arranging the flowers to her liking and leaning forward to breathe in the scent of the gardenias.

"Heard about Wolf and Rawlins. You're right to wonder where I get my money. Not like jobs for trained killers grow on trees. No one's hiring me as a marketing executive. That master's degree was a waste of time," she said as she pulled two glass bottles out of the fridge. Beer and cider.

"Still think beer tastes like piss, do ya?" Frank taunted, though he had to admit — his asshole did unclench after her acknowledgement of recent events. He wasn't sure how he felt about her knowing, but in the end, he'd rather not have to explain the last year of his life. It was fine.

She glanced his way between popping the metal caps open.

"Yep. Worse, even."

He held her gaze.

"Got a boyfriend?"

The inkling of a sardonic smile on her lips had Frank's own trembling with mirth.

"I'm as fond of those as I am of Chonks."

"Why do you stock it, then?" he pushed. It earned him a lovely eye roll.

"I don't know, Frank. Maybe I have friends over sometimes," she sassed, walking up to him. She stopped short of handing him the drink. He measured her resolve just like he measured everything else in life. He was pleased to find that for once, things were exactly as he thought them to be. With her, what he saw was what he got.

"Bullshit," he smirked, finally allowing his amusement out in the open.

A click of her tongue and hooded eyes had his whole posture relaxing.

"Yeah, well… not like you would judge."

Sharing a brief chuckle, they touched the lips of their bottles together with a quiet clink and drank. He abstained from giving in to the urge to compete and drink more than her. Sometimes Frank could choose not to be an ass, but only for the right people.

He took her in as she led him over to the couch, or rather, took in the long-healed scar on the back of her neck, covered just so by a few wisps of hair that had fallen from her up-do. He remembered that one. A shit story, if he ever heard one. It seemed they both knew a thing or two about a comrade's betrayal. What was it with these pieces of shit not having the nerve to stab you in the front?

"I'd try my hand at small talk, if I didn't know you're not one for chit-chat," she said, plopping down on the velvet sofa. He followed shortly. "Plus, Curtis sounded like death warmed over on the phone. So, I'm assuming you needed his help with something and he couldn't provide it. And now you're here."

"Brilliant deduction skills there, Holmes," he grumbled, taking another sip of the beer.

She blinked her eyes at him all innocent.

"I remember your standards being a little higher. Hoyle's a knockout corpsman but I wouldn't trust him to hit a sitting target 300 yards out," she snorted, setting her drink down on the coffee table before them.

"Oh yeah? And what's your best number, champ?" he mocked.

"A few more than that," she shot back instantly, tone flat.

Yeah. Frank knew. He remarked that she hadn't taken on a bragging habit, but she did keep her confidence, which was refreshing. Some pricks came back from warzones feeling like they could conquer the world. Most were soon disabused of the notion. She'd never seemed the type to have a chip on her shoulder, even back then. Even if — and Frank understood better than anyone — she had good reason to return from war loosely hinged and embittered.

He looked her over once more, a deep sigh sagging his shoulders before his expression hardened. She looked back with what seemed to Frank like thinly veiled insight. Eyes like a hawk.

"Not a lot of people I can trust these days, no matter how good a shot they are. Actually, the better they are, the more I don't like 'em."

Her lips pulled back to reveal a few pearly whites.

"Should I take the insufferable route and say well, then you should really hate me?" she joked, smile widening when he snorted and rolled his eyes in exaggerated fashion.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, princess. When's the last time you were behind the scope?" he taunted, wanting to see what she'd do.

"Couple weeks ago, when I scheduled an impromptu leadership change for the Yakuza. You?"

A double take. He rarely did them these days. His amusement was rapidly fading.

"What, you're a gun for hire now?"

Maybe his tone wasn't exactly as even as it should've been, given his reason for being there. Antagonizing someone you're about to ask a favor from was rarely a good strategy. He knew why his words came out the way they did. Maybe he'd expected different from her. Yet, it seemed that his smartass comment didn't provoke much ire. It was her turn to hold his gaze, and she looked decidedly unimpressed.

"Yup. And next week I'll probably be hired to kill the guy who hired me to kill that guy. They're eating each other whether I help or not. Why shouldn't I take their money before they expire of a different cause?" she explained, and Frank didn't really like how he felt it was too simple a reason for what she did.

"As interested as I am in discussing the intricacies of my killing-scumbags-for-fun-and-profit ideology, this is actually my day off. You pulled me out of a bubble bath and I still have gunpowder under my nails. So, if you're going to ask something, either ask or—"

A prolonged, sorrowful meow hijacked their conversation from down the hall, though one could hardly tell for how loud it actually was. She looked over his shoulder to appraise the situation, and just as Frank craned his neck to look too, there it was. A black hole with eyes and pointy teeth stared them both down, tail swinging from side to side leisurely. It meowed again, seemingly just as dejected.

"Three minutes past her dinner. Heartbreaking," she deadpanned.

Frank stifled a snort into the back of his hand.

"Do you want to feed her, Castle? Because I'm inclined to ask you to clean her litter box, too. Since you find this amusing and all."

"Nah. Imma watch you do it, though," he smirked, laughing again when she got up at a glacial pace and headed towards the kitchen with all the enthusiasm of a shift worker at four a.m. He quickly swiped the ten-pound creature off the floor with one arm before it could follow after her. Surprisingly, it didn't try to bite or claw his face off.

"Tell you what— I'll take Chonks off your hands for a minute. Don't want her jumping you for food."

"Oh no. That's never happened before." Laced with sarcasm, her words brought forward a mental picture he found himself thoroughly enjoying.

"Yeah? So Chonks is a little rascal, huh? Does Chonks have a particular strategy she ambushes you with?"

"I have a feeling you just like saying Chonks, so let me stop you before it gets annoying. She," Her index finger pointed straight at Frank's chest, where the cat rested amicably. "… is a criminal. Unrepenting. Extravagant. She flaunts her ill-gotten gains. She took a shit in the sink last week and she left a mouse on my pillow two days ago. It was still twitching."

Frank Castle hadn't had a good laugh in what felt like forever. Truthfully, he didn't really think he deserved much of what regular people took for granted. There were reasons for that everywhere he looked, no matter how much people like David Lieberman and Karen Page tried to persuade him otherwise. But sometimes… sometimes there were also moments like this. Maybe it was camaraderie, maybe mutual understanding — even, perhaps, a similar disposition to the person whose company he found himself not dreading. Whatever fate or circumstance settled on, and as much as he wanted to doubt it, these moments were getting more frequent as of late. Nothing crazy — he would never be a happy-go-lucky guy just minding his business. But somewhere between the cracks in a life he was still trying to make sense of, people slipped in substances he was having a hard time getting rid of. Laughter. Support. A little ball-busting that was good for morale. Help.

He'd turned up at her door with the clear intention for ask for help, and she didn't turn him down. She invited him inside, despite not having seen him in years. Despite the news and his reputation. Despite not owing him a goddamn thing.

He startled when a gentle vibration tickled his abdomen. He looked down. Chonks lay half-asleep, head on Frank's stomach and ass hanging off the side of his thigh. He tried adjusting for comfort without disturbing the creature.

"Ever been taken prisoner, Frank?" his host asked from the kitchen. He had to twist his neck to catch her eye.

"Not unwillingly," was the answer he settled on.

"Well, now you have. Congrats on popping that cherry."

When she entered his view again, her hands were holding two plates of human food. Her gaze was fixed on the purring lump of coal in his lap.

"Oh look, she's working double time. Hope you're comfortable. Once she's out, she's out," she announced nonchalantly, taking her seat next to him once more and setting the food down. The previously hungry cat didn't even stir. Frank looked at the assortment of finger foods. Smoked salmon. He was fucked.

"Yeah. I could put bluefin tuna in front of her nose — she's not getting up. So, how are you?" she continued taunting him, the beginnings of a shit-eating grin twisting the lower half of her face.

"You think I won't move her?" he tried. It was weak, even to his own ears. The look she gave him invoked pity.

"Frank… You're tough. You can be brutal when necessary. But you're not cruel, hm?"

She blinked at him all slow. Then, reaching out to him with the same mellow movement, she brushed her hand over the cat's obsidian fur. It burrowed further into him. Of the things Frank wished he hadn't forgotten about her, it was just how much nerve she had that topped the list. When he didn't answer, her smile grew further.

"Nah. Didn't think so. On the bright side, now you can tell me what you came here for in an abundance of detail."

She didn't let his glare deter her from fully enjoying his predicament, or from trying to pretend she was a good host by handing him the plate of snacks she'd prepared. She threw another look at his lap, eyebrows raising curiously.

"She's purring up a storm. You know they do that in response to trauma sometimes?"

"I'm sure missing dinner was tough," he sassed, finally accepting the food.

"Not theirs. Yours," she replied. Curt. To the point. It gutted him most effectively. And she probably knew that.

Despite huffing and puffing the rest of the evening, and despite trying his best to seem bothered and grumpy, the noticeable absence of tension in his back muscles telegraphed otherwise, both to him and his companion. If she noticed — and he knew she did — she said nothing, only met him halfway with a steady supply of beer and ears perked up for his tactical plans. Yet, at some point, those plans turned into examples. Examples turned into anecdotes. Anecdotes became jumbled nonsense, collected from various points in his life with seemingly no thread to link them. By the time Chonks finished her dubious therapy session, she'd already handed the duty over to her temporary human guardian.

And Frank wasn't used to talking this fucking much. He didn't like it when anyone did it around him, and especially not right next to him. But every time he looked to check if he was being a pain in the ass, he only found those same eyes fixed on him and that same veiled insight resting just outside his perception. Maybe he was talking to a fucking oracle, and it would've made sense, because how else would she have known exactly what to say to his increasingly unhinged verbiage? It kept pouring out with no end in sight.

That was, until her eyes scrunched closed and a lengthy yawn fell from her lips, and guilt hit Frank Castle like the first brick to the head he'd taken on his old construction job.

"Shit, I'm s—"

He got barely anywhere with that.

"D'you know this is the first evening I've been able to relax? Usually, I'd be chewing at the drywall by now. Maybe checking the secret assassin network for another job," she said. He sensed it was said in jest, but the honesty of the words knocked him off his feet like it was a living, breathing opponent. Suddenly, his mouth couldn't form any words of its own. The same enigmatic look of the past few hours danced in her eyes. Mellowed out. Open. Yet something was just there, and he couldn't put his finger on it. A moment later, her eyes cast downward. He followed her gaze without thinking, landing on his own chest.

"I know I besmirched her reputation plenty, but maybe the little felon isn't so bad," she said. The way her voice softened didn't go unnoticed by Frank. It couldn't have — it was ripping open something raw and tender right above the spot Chonks was warming with her small body.

"Hm?" he grunted, not trusting his own voice.

For his effort, the smile he received felt undeserved. But… maybe, just maybe, a little less so than usual. It managed to extract a similar one from his own lips, ones that refused to be pried open for fear of whatever noise might've escaped.

"She got you to stay."

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-fin-

A/N: Trying to fill a gap in the market for non-smutty FC fics, it's wild out here. Also, I'll keep this up for a bit, but after it's past its "shelf life", it'll go back into my private posts, because I don't want to go back on my word (explained here ).

[shewasverynice]

Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen 

⚠️ SPOILER HEAVY ⚠️

Major Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death 

Full tags/warnings on Chapter links post

Major Characters: Original Character, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Ieiri Shoko, Yaga Masamichi, Nanami Kento, Haibara Yu, Tsukumo Yuki, Choso

‎‧₊˚✧ Chapter 11 ✧˚₊‧

"Happy Halloween!!" Sarah and Suguru shouted, slamming Satoru's dorm room open on a crisp and beautiful Halloween morning.

"S'not evenmm--" he mumbled, barely opening one eye to look at the clock, "Sun's'not evn up yet..."

"That's 'cos we got stuff to do!" Sarah said, appearing right in his face and making him jump back, "C'mon sleepyhead! We gotta get ready!"

He yawned, slamming his face back into his pillow and stretching his legs out. He flexed his toes, the whole bed shaking as he let out that very necessary groan we all have to do when you get a really good stretch going.

"Are we going somewhere or something?" He mumbled, sitting up and letting his head rest on the headboard.

"We're gonna go find Himuro Manor!" Sarah reminded him, "It doesn't have an exact location so we'll have to just look around."

"Oh, right," he sighed, rubbing his eyes with his finger tips, "The Fatal Frame house... So it was real?"

"It's already become real through a curse," Suguru said with a shrug, "I'm sure we can find it if we follow the legends about it."

"And if we don't, then we'll just spend the whole day and night in the woods having so much fun," Satoru said sarcastically, reaching into his drawer for a clean shirt.

Sarah automatically faced away as he started to change, sitting on the end of the bed, "But if we actually find it, we can play like ghost hunters!"

"There's no such thing as ghosts," Satoru said with a roll of his eyes, "It's not ghosts. Just curses."

"Pfff," Sarah rolled her eyes with just as much sass, "Curses and ghosts are the same thing."

"Curses can kill you, a ghost isn't real and so it can't," he said with a sneer, "Two different things."

"Okay well let's just pretend they're ghosts then," Sarah huffed, "Be cool, Glacier Freeze."

Suguru stepped in between before they started to really get worked up. He grabbed both of them by the collars of their shirts and pulled them along with a shake of his head. "Too early for sass," he said, "Let's go. We have a drive ahead."

The day before they'd already prepped everything they might need for a long adventure in the woods. Everything vital like snacks and soda and a couple flashlights, all the important stuff of course. Convincing a manager in training to drive them there was the most difficult part, really. They had to offer to cover for him on three nights coming up, around Christmas time of course, but the price was easily worth it.

"What's so special about this place anyway?" Satoru asked with a heavy sigh, buckling into his seat a half hour later, "I barely remember that game. The second one was way better, yeah?"

"It was," Sarah agreed, "But this one was set in just the mansion so it was probably easier for the collective consciousness to make."

"Well maybe nostalgia for the second one will manifest a real village someday," Suguru said with a shrug, "We are lucky we could make this happen at all. Normally they don't let the first years do investigations."

"What did you tell Yaga?" Shoko asked, "How did you convince him?"

"I just asked," Suguru said with a shrug, but a certain twinkle in his eye told Shoko it was better not to ask right then. She raised her brows and simply continued with, "So are we just playing around or are we actually going to exorcise it?"

"Fun first, kill it after," Satoru said, adjusting his shirt while he slouched down, "We can play around in the spooky house for a bit and then take out the curse when we're done."

"Does this count as my first mission?!" Sarah said excitedly and Satoru patted her head. She swatted at his hand and he grinned at her.

"Don't worry, I'll keep my cute little underclassman safe," he teased then smirked as she slapped at the infinity between them when he kept her flying fists away.

"When we find a ghost imma make it haunt you!" She huffed, and he cackled as he leaned back in his seat.

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The old manor loomed before them, nearly swallowed by the encroaching woods. Its darkened wood, once richly brown and varnished, had faded to a splotchy gray-black under years of relentless weather. In some places, ivy and twisting vines crawled up its walls, disappearing into crevices and windows like nature’s attempt to reclaim it entirely. Trees grew so close to the structure that their branches scratched against the eaves with the barest breeze, their roots winding thickly around the foundation like the gnarled fingers of some ancient guardian.

The air around them felt strangely thick, muted as if wrapped in a damp, musty blanket. The forest at night was utterly still, almost unnaturally so. Not a single cricket chirped; not a single leaf rustled. It was as though every living creature, from the tiniest bug to the tallest tree, held its breath, wary of breaking the heavy silence that blanketed the woods. Even the wind dared not disturb the silence, making the night feel like a quiet void around the old manor.

As Shoko, Suguru, Satoru, and Sarah approached the crooked steps leading to the main entrance, the floorboards creaked ominously beneath their feet. Each step groaned in protest, some splintered and fraying at the edges, threatening to snap under their weight. The smell of rot and damp wood mixed with the faint, lingering scent of old incense, as if the place still clung to memories of its past.

When they finally reached the heavy front door, Satoru pushed it open with a slight shove. It dragged against the floor with a low, tortured groan. As they stepped inside, a sudden chill cut through the air. It was colder than it had any right to be, a biting sort of cold that sank right to the bones and carried with it the unmistakable, thick scent of dust and decay. Everything felt heavy, untouched for decades, as if a single breath might disturb the dust hanging in the air.

"So uh..." Shoko whispered, reaching for her flashlight in her bag, "What was the haunting caused by in that game?"

"Oh, well they used to do a strangling ritual here," Sarah explained, walking up to look at a wall scroll that nature was melting slowly, "It was to keep the darkness trapped in this big spooky well."

"The malic I think it was called," Suguru added, then sighed, "And all of the ghosts had died to the curse, didn't they?"

"Not a curse!" Sarah said, pointing at him, "Ghosts! It was ghosts that got them and made more ghosts!"

"Right," Satoru grunted as he squatted down to pull more flashlights out of his bag, "So let's play along, right? We can play like the game and take a bunch of weird photos!"

"Did you bring a camera?" Sarah asked.

"Phone?" Satoru said sheepishly.

"That's not the same," Sarah sighed, "It was specifically the Camera Obscura that could catch the ghosts." Then she suddenly froze, gripping Suguru's sleeve, "Oh! We could just try to find it right?! Maybe it's just in here!"

"It's not gonna be exactly like the game," Satoru scoffed, "You shouldn't get your hopes up."

"Watch this though..." She said, walking down the hallway. She called back, "If I'm right then... The camera should be..."

She screamed as the shadowy figure of a man passed in front of her. She would have fallen back on her ass if Suguru and Satoru hadn't rushed up behind her, ready to fight.

"What?!" Satoru looked left and right down the corridor, "What was it?!"

"It was a ghost!" She stammered, "One of the people killed by the darkness!"

"Oh my god," Satoru groaned, "No it wasn't, shut up."

"It was!!" She insisted, staggering to her feet, "I swear it was!"

"So where's the camera then?" Shoko asked, looking down the hall.

Sarah pushed a broken screen aside and practically threw herself back pointing at the camera on the ground. Satoru and Suguru both narrowed their eyes, rushing over to squat down and look at it. "There's no way..." Suguru muttered, reaching out to take it. Satoru stopped him, then grinned.

"Nah, wait, let's play along," Satoru said, looking over his shoulder to Sarah, "Right?!"

"Yes!" Sarah scrambled over, picking up the camera, "Absolutely yes! Let's go! Right now!"

"Do you two remember the story?" Suguru asked, "I don't know if I do after so long."

"I... Don't." Satoru admitted, watching Sarah fiddle with the camera, "I think the character was a girl who lost her brother, right? He was researching the haunting here or something?"

"Yeah," Sarah nodded when she looked up from the camera, "And then he got killed by the ghost in the fireplace room and his sister came to check on him."

"So let me just make sure I heard that right," Shoko sighed, "We need to take pictures of the ghosts to exorcise them? Is that how this game works?"

"Yeah! The camera steals their souls and stuff and--"

"Okay," Shoko cut her off, "Alright, fine. Let's just go get this over with."

"Oh?" Satoru grinned, leaning with his arm on Shoko's shoulder, "You scared?"

She rolled her eyes, "No, but I don't really think this is the best place for Sarah and I. These ghosts are dangerous--"

"Curses," Satoru corrected her and she huffed before he continued, "And you have Suguru and I here! There's nothing to be afraid of!"

"Of course," Suguru agreed, "Nothing will happen to either of you."

"But what if we get separated?" Shoko asked, "That kind of thing always happens in these kinds of games."

"Pfft," Satoru waved his hand dismissively, "Don't be ridiculous. How could we get separated? It's just one building, we can't get lost in such a small place."

The manor had a way of pulling them apart, as if its very walls shifted to separate the four friends. Shoko and Sarah ended up on the far side of the house, where they stumbled into a dilapidated kitchen. A low, flickering light barely illuminated the room through grimy windows, casting shadows that seemed to twist and move on their own. The air was thick with the sour smell of mildew and something metallic—rust, perhaps, or the faint stain of old blood long dried. Every surface was coated with a thin layer of dust, untouched but for the occasional smear where something unseen had disturbed it.

Shoko moved carefully, eyes narrowing as she scanned the dark corners. "We should have brought something sharp," she muttered, annoyance crossing her face as she dug through drawers filled with cracked wooden spoons and broken bits of porcelain. A glint of metal caught her eye, and she pulled out a tarnished butcher knife, testing its weight in her hand. "Better than nothing, I guess."

Sarah kept her distance, glancing around nervously. “Anything about this place actually seem like it belongs in a kitchen?” she asked, eyeing the blackened stove and mold-ridden walls.

Shoko shrugged, her attention still on the drawers. "It’s probably been cursed for so long, it doesn’t know what it is anymore."

Meanwhile, Suguru wandered down a series of narrow, winding corridors, the wood creaking beneath his every step. Here, the walls seemed to close in tighter, bending and warping in places, as if they were alive and breathing around him. A faint, translucent figure flitted past, its face half-formed, looking as though it might disappear entirely if Suguru blinked too hard.

He chuckled softly to himself. "So, are you all separate spirits, or is this one big curse controlling everything?" he wondered aloud, as if expecting the house to answer. It was hard to tell in such a place, where curses lingered in every shadow, in every draft of cold air that seemed to sweep through the hall with a sigh. He felt a pull toward each apparition he passed, his curiosity ignited as he tried to sense if they were fragments of one larger entity or isolated curses.

Above them all, Satoru found himself standing alone in the cramped, cobweb-strewn attic. He'd somehow managed to hold onto the Camera Obscura. Now, if he could only figure out how to get the damn film in they could actually play the game

"Stupid thing," he muttered under his breath, squinting at the camera and attempting to load the film. His fingers fumbled with the film reel, the stubborn old device refusing to cooperate. He sighed, pressing harder than necessary, frustration building.

Behind him, a faint, icy whisper filled the air, the sound of creaking footsteps creeping closer. The temperature plummeted, and a ghastly, translucent figure loomed behind him, stretching a pale hand forward.

Without even glancing up, Satoru lifted one hand, releasing a sharp pulse of cursed energy that hit the ghost with a force that disintegrated it instantly. He went right back to struggling with the film, muttering, "Stupid old thing. Why is it always the oldest shit?"

Shoko and Sarah moved cautiously down the wooden hall, which felt endless, lined with crumbling walls blackened by age and water damage. Most of the paper screens had melted away, leaving jagged edges flapping in the occasional gust of cold air that seeped through cracks. It was as though the entire manor had been left to rot, assaulted by wind and rain until only the skeleton of its former grandeur remained. The air was thick and damp, and the boards creaked beneath their steps, echoing like whispers in the emptiness around them.

Sarah glanced at the ruined screens and recognized bits and pieces of the layout, but the decay made the space seem foreign and wrong. The house she remembered had not felt so terrifying on the TV and the real life version wasn't as easy to navigate as she hoped. They peeked into each room, nudging open the doors that could still slide, finding each space abandoned and stripped bare, only scraps of paper and tatami mats clinging to the floors.

Then, in a dark, shadowed corner of one room, something caught their eye—a small roll of film, resting atop a low table covered in a thick layer of dust. They both reached for it, excited by the unexpected find.

But before their hands could touch the film, a soft hissing rose from the floorboards. The shadows twisted and coalesced, rising up in a mass that took shape—a ghost with shriveled, hollow eyes and an agonized expression, its mouth frozen in a perpetual choke. It crawled upward, its skeletal hands stretching toward them, a hoarse wheeze escaping its lips as if it had been denied breath for centuries.

Shoko and Sarah screamed, stumbling back. Their voices carried through the empty halls, echoing in the dark spaces of the manor.

In an instant, both Satoru and Suguru heard them from their separate locations. Suguru took off at a sprint, his footsteps pounding through the halls, dodging splintered beams and ducking under fallen rafters. But Satoru opted for the most direct route. He blasted through the floorboards, one level down, then another, smashing his way through rotting wood and debris until he crashed into the room, scattering dust and splinters everywhere.

He raised his hand, a glint of cursed energy forming, ready to obliterate the spirit—but before he could release it, Sarah snatched the Camera Obscura from his grip. Her hands shook, but she moved quick, finally managing to load the film with one swift click.

She raised the camera, aimed it at the ghost, and pressed the shutter.

The camera’s flash went off, the room illuminated in a harsh burst of light. The ghost let out a bone-chilling shriek as it reared back, its form wavering and dissolving, until finally it disintegrated into nothing. The room returned to silence, the faint odor of charred wood and decay lingering in the air.

Satoru stared at the empty space where the ghost had been, wide-eyed, then glanced down at the Camera Obscura in Sarah's hands. Shoko, equally stunned, glanced between Sarah and the camera.

"Did that… actually work?" Shoko breathed, disbelief etched on her face.

Satoru blinked, then broke into a wide grin. "Guess we have a new ghostbuster on the team," he teased, nudging Sarah with his elbow.

Sarah, catching her breath, managed a shaky grin. "I knew it. We got this in the bag now!"

Suguru arrived just moments after the spirit vanished, skidding to a halt and glancing around the dust-laden room. Before he could ask, Sarah spun toward him, beaming as she held up the camera. "Geto! It worked!" she announced, almost bouncing on her heels.

Suguru chuckled, patting her head gently as she grinned up at him. "Nice job. That's really exciting," he said, warmth in his eyes.

Sarah and Shoko, energized by their victory, wandered over to the table littered with dusty rolls of film, muttering to each other excitedly as they examined their findings. Suguru took a moment to lean closer to Satoru, his brow furrowed with curiosity. “So,” he started, keeping his voice low, “any thoughts on what we’re actually dealing with here?”

Satoru gave a casual shrug, crossing his arms as he looked around the dark, decaying room. “From what I can see, it’s one curse," he said thoughtfully, "not multiple spirits or entities. But here’s what’s weird.” He leaned closer to Suguru, eyes glinting with intrigue. "When Sarah took that picture, it felt like the cursed energy didn’t just disappear—it dissolved. Like, I don’t know… cotton candy in water.”

Suguru smirked at the comparison, unable to suppress a chuckle. "Cotton candy, huh?”

“Hey, just telling it how I see it,” Satoru grinned. “But yeah, if that’s how it’s reacting to the camera, it should work to exorcise the curse completely. It’s like the energy is unraveling at the core. But,” he added, his tone a bit more serious, “if they actually end up in trouble, we’ll need to step in fast. The curse won't go down without a fight.”

Suguru nodded, the lightness in his gaze hardening with resolve. “Agreed. Let’s keep an eye on them, then—”

He cut off, turning back to where the girls had been standing, only to find empty space. He blinked, exasperated but amused. “Well, damn.”

Satoru snorted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Typical.”

Shoko realized they’d somehow ended up alone again, standing in what used to be a bedroom but now looked more like a crumbling nightmare. Shadows crept along the walls, and what remained of the tatami flooring creaked beneath their weight. Shoko let out a quiet sigh, muttering under her breath as she pulled out her knife, infusing it with cursed energy. The blade took on a faint glow, casting ghostly light in the dark room. She glanced at Sarah, who clutched the camera tightly, her fingers trembling slightly.

"Keep that camera ready, okay?" Shoko said, nudging her with a reassuring smile.

“Got it!” Sarah said, trying to sound steady, though Shoko could see her knuckles whitening around the camera. They made their way into the hall, stepping carefully around cracked wood and holes in the floor. Every so often, a faint figure would flicker into view—a blurry, shadowed ghost moving towards them. Each time, Sarah snapped a picture, and the figures dissipated with a faint wail, leaving only a heavy chill in the air. None of the ghosts seemed particularly aggressive, but Sarah’s excitement was palpable.

“So…where are we going, exactly?” Shoko asked, keeping her voice low.

“Well,” Sarah said, her eyes gleaming, “in the game, the first boss was this editor—used to work for some kind of paranormal magazine or something. His ghost haunts this house because he died from the curse.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “And how are we supposed to find him?”

“Uh, clues,” Sarah said, her voice trailing off as she scratched the back of her head. “You know…find the clues and follow them…”

“Right,” Shoko drawled, smirking, “You remember where they are?”

Sarah’s sheepish laugh was all the answer she needed.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the mansion, Suguru and Satoru moved through the dark halls with little care. Shadows slipped around them, but they barely gave them a glance, dismissing each cursed spirit with a flick of their cursed energy. If anything, they looked bored, like they were on a leisurely stroll rather than inside a haunted house.

Suguru suddenly narrowed his eyes as he was mulling over the recent events. He stopped in his tracks and looked at Satoru. "If... The Camera Obscura is just part of the curse then how is it actually able to exorcise the curses?" He asked.

Satoru, who was a few steps ahead scoping out a ruined dining room, turned to him. He looked ready to answer before his brows furrowed and he said, "Y'know I hadn't thought of that. If anything the curses should just be recycling in on themselves."

"You mentioned before that she had a strange second energy, right?" Suguru asked, crossing his arms and putting one hand to his chin.

"Yeah," Satoru nodded, pushing at a broken screen with the toe of his shoes, "Think maybe that's what it is?"

"Well," Suguru tapped his chin, "It's definitely a possibility. Especially with what Yaga told us."

"Oh yeah, what did he say anyway?" Satoru asked, shoving the rest of the door aside.

"He said he'd allow her to go only if we could ensure her safety, which naturally we can, and we have her exorcise at least one curse," he explained, "I wonder if he wanted to see if her power works differently than ours?"

"Well, clearly it does," Satoru said, "Since it still can exorcise a curse using its own cursed energy. Maybe her stuff just blends in?"

"Oh, that could be," Suguru said, blasting a ghost apart as it tried to leap at him from inside the room.

"If I were to call it anything, I'd say it's like the opposite of cursed energy," Satoru explained, "Like... Divine energy, I guess? Hard to say since I've never seen anything like that."

"Divine energy would probably fit the bill," Suguru agreed, "Since it can resurrect and repels cursed energy but also draw curses in."

"It's weird though, right?" Satoru asked, crossing his arms, "Why haven't we seen it before? Never, even going to other countries have I seen it before. What's different about her?"

Suguru smiled, "Well, I suppose it's something to do with her bloodline. We could research it?"

"I tried," Satoru sighed, "The oldies blocked me from every angle. I guess I could call in the family to do it, but I don't really want them to know I know about her."

"It might be necessary, unfortunately," Suguru said, "Because it's not likely they'll let us find out more than we've already figured out. Yaga has already put himself at risk by telling us anything at all."

"Well, he'll be fine," Satoru shrugged, "We just won't let them threaten him. The geezers can't stop us." He smiled, then added, "Alright, I'll hit up gramps when we get this done. Let's see what he'll spill."

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly as Sarah and Shoko bolted down it, their breathing ragged as they jumped over splintered wood and ducked under fallen beams. Dust and rot filled the air, thickening with each frantic step as the heavy footsteps of the ghost followed close behind. It was the spirit of a young woman, her modern clothes a stark contrast to the decrepit mansion. Her skin was marred with rope burns, deep and bruised, and her pale face contorted in anger. She was faster than any of the ghosts they’d seen before, and her hands reached out, long fingers curling as if to snatch them.

“Can’t… you just… stab it?” Sarah gasped, struggling with the camera’s film as she stumbled alongside Shoko.

“Not this one!” Shoko replied, not slowing her pace. “It’s too strong—just get the film in!”

Sarah fumbled with the camera, trying to load the film, her hands trembling as she struggled to fit it into the slot. “Come on, come on!” she muttered, wincing as the camera’s metal edge bit into her finger. She stifled a curse as blood welled up and dripped onto the film. Her frustration turned to determination, and with a final push, she finally slid the film into place.

“Got it!” she exclaimed, whipping around, but in her haste, she stumbled back into Shoko, who grabbed her shoulders, steadying them both as the spirit bore down on them.

Sarah lifted the camera, hands shaking, and with a hard click, the flash erupted into a golden blaze. The light filled the hallway, illuminating the ghost's face in an almost surreal glow. For a split second, her eyes softened, the fury and anguish replaced by a fleeting calm. In that one instant, her expression looked almost… at peace. The image was brief, a single heartbeat, before she vanished in a swirl of light and cold air.

Shoko stared, her eyes wide, breathing heavily as the afterimage lingered in her vision. “Did… did you see that?” she whispered, stunned.

Sarah nodded, her grip tightening on the camera as she tried to catch her breath. “Yeah… she looked almost…” She trailed off, too rattled to find the words.

Far across the mansion, both Suguru and Satoru felt the powerful shift in cursed energy—a flicker of something heavy, then lighter, as if the curse had dispersed. Without a word, they exchanged a look of understanding and immediately set off, weaving through halls and stairways as they made their way toward the girls.

Satoru moved quickly, his grin vanishing as he sped up, cutting through obstacles with swift blasts of cursed energy, his eyes sharper than usual. Suguru, meanwhile, kept his cursed spirits at the ready, his footsteps quiet but purposeful as he wound through the mansion.

When they finally found the girls again, Shoko and Sarah were still sitting on the ground catching their breath. Satoru sauntered over, leaning on the wall looking smug.

"So, how's the photo taking going?" He asked.

"Cut the crap," Shoko huffed, "You felt that right? That bright light? Was that her?" She pointed at Sarah who blinked and looked between the two of them.

"Yeah," Satoru nodded, "That's what I was talking about."

"It's so... Soft," Shoko said, looking at Sarah and tilting her head, "The curse seemed happy before it was erased."

Now that was new. Satoru furrowed his brow. "Happy? Like when you unravel a curse rather than exorcise it?"

Shoko nodded, "Yeah, exactly. It was super weird!"

"Huh?" Sarah stood up, "That's not how it's supposed to go?"

"No," Satoru said, "Is that the first time you've seen a curse exorcised?"

Sarah looked down at the floor, considering how to answer that. Satoru waited, but after a moment he saw that panic creep into her expression. She did see it happen before, she must have. She only got confused about her past when something was being covered up.

"Here," Satoru shook her shoulder, getting her mind back on him, "Let me show you how it's done."

She blinked away her confusion and smiled at him. "Oh yeah? Is this a special lesson from my senpai or are you just showing off?" She teased.

He pulled down his sunglasses and winked at her with a winning smile, "Can't it be both, baby?"

She playfully shoved him, then held out the camera, "You can sense them with this too if you need to."

"Pff," he took off his sunglasses completely and hung them off his shirt collar, "Nah, I've got special eyes remember?"

With his Six Eyes focused, Satoru quickly zeroed in on the manor’s curse—a dense, pulsing core of malevolent energy buried in the heart of the decayed building. His eyes narrowed as he mapped out the twisted network of cursed energy, sensing the curse’s hold on the whole structure, like roots tangling and suffocating an old tree.

Without a second thought, he appeared beside Shoko and Sarah, scooping them up under his arms with a cheerful, “Upsy daisy!” Sarah let out a startled yelp as he held her with one arm, Shoko on the other, their feet barely grazing the floor before he launched out of the mansion, skimming over the broken floorboards and leaping through the gaping front doorway in a flash.

“Suguru! Brace yourself!” he shouted as he touched down just outside. Without waiting, he raised his hand, two fingers pointed toward the manor as his cursed energy coiled and began to surge. Blue sparks crackled as an orb of condensed power formed near his fingertips, the energy practically singing with intensity. The air around them grew thick, buzzing with raw power.

Sarah’s eyes went wide as she glanced at the glowing blue orb only inches from her face. “Satoru, that’s a little close, don’t you think?” she stammered, feeling the pulse of cursed energy against her skin.

He glanced down at her, smirking. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.”

And with that, he released the orb. It shot forward in a blinding beam, tearing straight into the heart of the manor. The explosion was immediate, a deep, resonating blast that expanded outward with enough force to shatter the ancient wooden beams and send splinters into the air. Dust and debris erupted as the manor collapsed inward, swallowed by the swirling cursed energy that Satoru had unleashed.

A moment later, Suguru emerged from the debris, coughing as he climbed out from beneath a fallen beam, his expression caught somewhere between irritation and exasperation. “You could’ve given me a little more warning, you know!" He shouted.

“I did warn you,” Satoru shot back, crossing his arms with a look of mock innocence, “You just weren’t fast enough to get out.”

Suguru narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. “Fast enough? You gave me half a second!" He growled.

Their voices rose as they squabbled, Satoru’s tone lighthearted, while Suguru’s was more genuinely annoyed. But neither Shoko nor Sarah paid them much attention, both staring at the remains of the manor. The wooden beams and cursed energy dissolved together, releasing a cloudy, black mist into the air. The curse’s grip on the house dissipated like smoke in the wind, leaving only an eerie silence in its wake.

As the mist faded, Shoko let out a quiet sigh, and Sarah grinned, still clutching the Camera Obscura as it slowly disintegrated in her hands. “Well,” she said, glancing over at Shoko, “that’s one way to exorcise a curse.”

Shoko chuckled, patting Sarah on the shoulder. “I’d say we’re done here.”

In the background, Satoru and Suguru were still bickering, their voices carrying across the clearing as the last traces of cursed energy faded, leaving nothing but a memory of the old, haunted manor.

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