#stupid apple fox

[bazilthyme]

reaching out, pulling away. ✨juicebox✨

[cassiusfen]

This isn't my art, (it's made by @ TheHearthFox over on Twitter) but I wanted to make a long post about why this work in particular speaks to me so goddamn much. I think such a massive part of the queer experience -- and also the furry experience -- is about the abstract. This can be seen in so many different aspects of furry "culture," from the concept of fursonas to kink and and other fetish content. You and I will never know what it's like to be a werewolf and transform under the full moon into the form of a big hulking furry beast. However, us furries create art and other works about the idea of it anyway. We never will be able to be our fursonas -- our often idealized and "perfect" versions of ourselves -- and part of that really hurts. It hurts so bad honestly, to the point where I can't quite put it into words. In terms of queer culture, I will never know what it is like to be a cis woman, and that also messes with me a lot. Yet, I'm still trans, my identity can change, I can perceive myself as whatever I damn well please. Identity allows you to shape yourself and the world around you in your own image, even if not everyone can see its beauty.

We have ways to get at least somewhat close to how we feel in our abstraction. VRChat allows you to make an avatar of what ever you want, whether it's your fursona or just an ideal version of you. Hell, it doesn't even have to be you, it could be anyone or anything really. We have a whole industry based around creating big ass costumes that allow people to at least look something like their desired character. But it's not enough. It's never enough. I ain't religious, but sometimes I feel like I've bitten the apple, been kicked out of the garden, and now I'm left to fend for myself with an identity that my physicality will never match. When I made my fursona using an avatar base in vrchat and configured it to match my real world body scales and looked down, I honestly started crying. I take the headset off, and I'm still me. Everyone takes the headset or fursuit off and they're still the body they were given, not what they would choose. Our reality is objective, and there's no way to really change that. We can act like animal people online all day, but the moment that screen shuts off, the moment we walk away, that warm, fuzzy feeling (hehe) fades.

To think abstract is to think beyond what you can normally sense. You will never get to brush the knots out of your fur in the morning, or play with your antennae while anxious (I see you bug people). We can still have those ideas, however. I know I'm on the third goddamn paragraph and I'm just now talking about the artwork I linked but this is an important concept to me. Usually, when I think of the abstract, it feels unreal, "fuzzy" so to speak. However, in HearthFox's piece, the objective reality appears out of focus and pixelated. It feels like even if we are unable to fully embrace the abstract, we can still embrace what we can of it, and bring some sort of color to a world that doesn't feel like it is made for us. The colors being outside of the lines could suggest that our abstract perception is maybe just "painted on" to the world around us, but is that a bad thing? Is it bad to take things in from the world around you, but still look at it all in your own unique way? I think not. This also isn't only about therian identity, or furry identity, or even queer identity -- it's also about neurodivergence. You are never in the wrong for thinking about the world in a way that is viewed as "non-standard" by the rest of the world. If you see yourself as a wolf, bee, fox, bear, raccoon, a fucking plane, it's not a bad thing. We can still identify however we want, and this modern way of looking at identity is the best way for us to embrace the abstract.

Go wild, go fucking stupid. Love yourself, if you're a fox, be a fox, there are ways you can feel that way, even if it's not all of the time. We can fight, we can love, we can still find ways to elation, even if sometimes existence itself feels wrong to you. This work is but one side of abstract thinking. Look at the color the fox has compared to the objective. Look how the fur drapes, how it runs down the body, or how the snout expresses emotion. Sometimes it feels melancholic, but you cannot tell me that trying your absolute damnedest to live your identity doesn't at least bring some color to your otherwise dreary and unfocused world.

Stay safe, love yourself no matter what.

[daycourtofficial]

Everything is Not As it Seems part 2

Summary: You’ve been abducted, and the inner circle have to find you as quickly as possible.

Author’s note: part 2!! Part 2!! There will be a third part as well! This is a bit shorter - but I think it has a very natural cliffhanger.

(Part 1)

A month. You’ve been missing for a month. Azriel’s been working nonstop trying to catch just a hint of your existence, while also trying to be careful. He knows you’re in the Autumn Court, Eris would never keep you elsewhere. But unfortunately for them, they have to tread lightly on finding you. They can’t just go and stampede into the autumn court - they need to know where you are so they can have proof you were taken.

In the weeks since Feyre learned Eris is trying to marry you, no one has found out any more information. Feyre’s been able to glimpse back into your mind on occasion, but never when she can find any valuable information.

Feyre won’t tell the others, but she can tell there’s something else happening to you. She does learn more and more each time she visits your mind - for instance, you’re always wearing bracelets that distinctly resemble the chains Hybern uses to mask magical abilities. She assumes this is why no one else can enter your mind and why you can’t converse with her. Before the faebane blocked your abilities, you had left a teeny, tiny opening for Feyre, one that Feyre was incredibly grateful for.

Something about you seems a bit more docile than usual. You seem more accepting of things, not thinking too much of what’s being asked of you.

Even Lucien has started looking for you, furious with his family for harboring you.

“Okay,” Rhysand says, defeat all over his features, “has anyone figured anything out? Any leads? Any random scraps of ideas?”

Azriel doesn’t even show up to these meetings anymore, he’s not sure why he came today.

Elain timidly speaks up, “well,” she says, looking around the room at her downtrodded friends, “she was born in the Autumn Court, right?”

“Yes,” Lucien replies, “her family was very prominent, and they often traveled between courts, usually staying in one court to raise up a child there. That’s how my family got to know her so well - spent most of her first hundred years in Autumn.”

“What happened to her family’s home?” Elain asks timidly, knowing the delicate nature of these meetings.

An entire month with you gone has sent Azriel off the deep end, his agitation with questions and ideas he deems too stupid to pursue growing constantly. Last week he lounged at Cassian for suggesting they go talk to Beron directly.

Azriel looks up, making eye contact with Lucien, “I’m not sure,” the red-head replies, “I haven’t been to their estate in probably 200 years. Feyre - when you can see in her mind, can you tell anything about the property - how big it is, what rooms there are?”

Feyre thinks for a moment, “I’m not sure if she just doesn’t explore, but it seems quite small and contained, almost like a cottage. Her bedroom is brown, with an ornate fireplace. The only other places I see her are a cozy library and a kitchen.”

Elain looks down, feeling silly for getting everyone’s hopes up, but Lucien starts grabbing her arm, “so it isn’t her family estate she’s on,” he says, a grin growing.

Cassian looks at him, “oh look another place she isn’t!”

“For her one hundredth birthday my father bought her a cabin. I can’t believe I forgot about it!” Lucien’s excitement evident in his voice, “But that stupid fireplace! I visited her there and banged my head on it while trying to start a fire!”

Rhysand chimes in, “Lucien, describe this cabin. Everything you know about it. Extreme detail. Feyre, listen carefully to what he says about it.”

-

You were slicing apples in the kitchen when he came home. He walked through the door, only stopping behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Hello, fox.” You giggle at his nickname.

“Hello, sweetheart.” You reply, “want some pie?”

He sweeps your hair to the side, kissing your neck, “do I have to use a plate or can I just eat it off of you?”

-

“And the bathroom has these really unique faucets - the spout looks like a fox.”

“Bless the mother, we did it, we know where she is,” Cassian exclaims, ready to put on a song and dance number he was bouncing with such excitement.

“Lucien,” Azriel speaks for the first time this entire meeting, “where is this cabin? What does the land look like?”

-

You woke up, got dressed, and headed into your living room. Azriel was gone for the day, he had some business to attend to, but that just meant you could look through your bookshelves and spend the day reading.

It was a perfect autumn day outside, the windows were cracked just enough to allow a cool breeze, carrying the scent of apples on it. You’re searching through titles when you hear a crack from behind. You turn around and find Feyre looking at you, relief flooding her features.

“Thanks the gods, I found you!” She laughs, coming to hug you.

You hug her back, “I know, I’m so sorry we’ve been gone for so long, we just wanted to take a nice vacation. Autumn’s so pretty this time of year.”

Feyre looks at you, relief over her features turning into concern, “sweetheart, we want you to come back to the night court. Azriel’s back there, and he sent me to come get you to bring you back.”

You look at her, confusion etched in your features, “why didn’t he come get me himself? Besides, we’ll be there in a few days for the wedding, I can wait.”

“Why not come spend a few days before the wedding back home - we can go get massages, manicures, it’ll be a blast.” She reached her hand out for yours, but you’re struck by the intense feeling that something is wrong.

“Feyre, what’s wrong? Why is Az in Night? He said he had some business here to attend to - he wouldn’t have left me alone in Autumn.”

Feyre isn’t sure what to do - she knows Eris could return at any moment, causing a massive fight to break out.

The inner circle decided it was best just to send Feyre - the illusion being broken while you were still in the autumn court could mean terrible things. The plan was for Feyre to get you to take her hand, no matter what.

“It’s Cassian,” Feyre finally says, “he was injured pretty badly, and he really wants to see you.”

Feyre thinks it’s a believable lie - you and Cassian were pretty close, he loved you like a little sister. He’d want you to come visit him, if possible.

You gasp, “oh gods, is he going to be okay?”

You come closer to Feyre, grabbing her hand, about to winnow away. As the world starts spinning, you see Azriel open the door to your cabin, and screaming at the sight of you being taken back. You feel warm fire graze over you as you winnow away.

Feyre winnows you back into Rhys’s office, letting go of you as you hyperventilate over what’s happening.

“You said Azriel was here!” You choke out in between breaths.

“He is,” Rhys replies. Feyre and Rhys share a look, deciding telling you sooner is better.

“Azriel has been in the night court for the last few months.”

Your thoughts whirl and swirl, your friends obviously playing a trick on you.

“No that’s not possible, he’s been with me, in autumn- we’re getting married next week!” You cry out.

Rhys and Feyre both look at you with such sympathy, the words they don’t want to tell you sitting in their throats.

They don’t want to tell you, because they know this knowledge could kill you, but they have to.

“Azriel has been in the night court for the past few months. You were taken prisoner by Eris, who glamoured himself into Azriel so you would marry him.”

[t-top-apologist]

At the end of the day the average civilian wishes to be catered to like an old money steel baron or perhaps one of those chaps from Downton Abbey. The entirety of modern society has come together to enable this, mass-producing cheap facsimiles of fortunes that should rightly either be built on child labor or perhaps serfdom.

Their lawns, taking up what could otherwise be used to grow crops or serve as "outdoor garage space," exist to ape the wide ranging estates meant for the nobility to chase down a fox while adorned in silly jackets. Their houses sport columns and stupid windows meant to imitate three different classical artforms at the same time because of something called "economies of scale." They even have male-centric social clubs meant for parlour games, discussing sports, and dining with friends, in this case franchised out under such names as "Buffalo Wild Wings."

This aping of the upper class continues to the hire of "artisans" to do relatively simple work deemed too complicated to warrant the time of the average citizen. It's not that the jobs are too taxing for your average person, but rather that the market has crystallized around the desire to live like budget royalty. Therefore they take their wafer-thin computers to artisans (now more commonly called "experts" or "Apple geniuses") for repair and have democratized the position of carriagemen to 22 year old dealership lube techs named Ryan who will turn a 15 minute job into a 30 minute endeavor thanks to frequent vape breaks and a brief brush with what the industry refers to as "a misplaced drain bolt."

The mid-40s project manager and mother of 3 is no less competent when changing oil than her grandfather before her who knew what "Valve Lash" is, but what separates the two is a series of wars in the 1900s that required an entire generation of men to become very familiar with operating and repairing machines better than the Germans and Japanese (an exercise that Chrysler would later abandon in favor of the phrase "if you can't beat em, join em").

This conflict ended with a surge of able-bodied men finding themselves returning to their project management jobs (like their granddaughters after them) but armed with captured German weapons and a comprehensive understanding of tubochargers. Just as a line can be drawn from troop drawdowns to political violence, there's a distinct correlations between GIs returning home and the violence with which Ford Flathead V8s were torn apart by inventive supercharging methods paired with landspeed record attempts.

Give a man a racecar and he'll crash it on the salt flats in a day. Teach a man to repair a racecar and it will sit in the garage of his suburban house for a few years in between complete engine rebuilds required by what can only be described as "vaporized piston rods."

Of course this hotrodder generation created the circumstances we live in today, as the market saw their fast cars cobbled together from old prewar hulks and simply stamped out new ones from factory, faster and more convenient for the next generation than building one from scratch. Now the project manager mother of 3 drives a 4wd barge with climate controlled seats boasting more computing power than the moon mission and an emissions-controlled powertrain with more horsepower than her grandfather's jalopy and her fathers factory muscle car combined. And she doesn't care at all.

Yet Amongst the average civilians there walks a rare breed: people who know how to change their own oil. We the chosen move among you silently, bucking the system, operating outside the cultural helplessness and trading in forbidden knowledge in almost-abandoned forum threads (flame wars over conventional vs synthetic).

While we do have a marked air of superiority about this, I can't say I haven't stooped to imitating the rich myself. I've been known to wear a silly jacket from time to time.

[wonderfull-star]

I don't know about the others but Horrortale has always been my favorite au. And one of the reasons is that it is essentially a continuation of one of the neutral endings of Undertale. Therefore, in essence, this au can even partially be called canon, since we learned a brief backstory of Horrortale in Undertale itself. And the continuation of this whole story is the guess of the author(of Horrortale,Sour-Apple Studios) about how this neutral ending will continue. I think Horrortale is one of those universes that Toby Fox might like. If Frisk really hadn’t reset and just returned home, then the Horrortale au would have officially began(even though it’s a fan-made sequel of one of neutral endings).

And this is not even the main reason why I adore this universe. The LORE. I absolutely love how everything smoothly transitions from a scary atmosphere into a dramatic one, showing the agony, fear and hopelessness all the monsters went through. And I like how Aliza understands this and tries to help them all. She's not just the stupid, scared girl the fandom makes her out to be, and I love that. The way the images of the characters change and the background takes on dark tones makes us feel bad for the monsters. And in general, I wonder what will happen to Aliza next, whether there will be different endings, whether the monsters will ever come to the surface. Imagine if they really succeed and they meet already grown-up Frisk (who is probably about 16 years old). By the way, I also like to imagine that Aliza exists in Undertale itself and she is only 5 years old there.

I also liked how Sans was presented in this au. At first he was shown as an unstable psycho who would immediately lash out if you looked at him in wrong way. And then to find out that in fact Sans is not entirely like that and makes sure that his brother and the others in Snowdin do not die of hunger. While he himself was starving for 7 years. Which made him even more crazy.

So when I look at Horror on the “Bad Guys” team, I think: “Maybe it’s not so bad?”. Dust and Killer literally killed everyone including their brother, while in Horror’s au many are at least alive and he definitely would not touch monsters (at least those close to him, for example like Grillby,Politics Bear, Drunk Bunny and Dogaressa), especially his brother. No matter what, he always tried to hold back, which is why his psychosis grew. This makes him different from the rest of the team. Therefore, I think that like Dust and Cross, Horror joined Nightmare only for a specific purpose, while he himself most likely does not like him. However, that doesn't stop me from imagining them all as "family." This makes me think that over time Horror Sans got used to Nightmare and began to see something good in him (even if it may just be a figment of his imagination). Yes, in my mind Nightmare and the rest of his team are canon in Horrortale universe and Papyrus knows about them. At first he had a lot of questions about this, but then he simply came to terms with all the oddities of his brother. The rest of the monsters of Snowdin do not know about bad guys, just sometimes noticing dark tentacles appearing out of nowhere. Imagine if Aliza finds out about other versions of Sans. I think she will be overcome with great horror.

I don't know why, but somehow Bad Guys’s canon presence in Horrortale au makes sense to me (especially Nightmare). Maybe because of their creepy design (Nightmare is basically a walking octopus covered in dark liquid). And also the knowledge that Horror Sans hides a lot more than many in his au think. After all, it’s really creepy to see someone’s copies at one moment, isn’t it?

I also like how Horror always so slays in every edits. Especially with phonk music 👌

[thatone-brightstar]

More than all the stars (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader) (The Bear & The Fox Series)

Chapter 2: Heavy is the head 'n all that

Words: 4.9k

summary: Carmy gets a visit from an old friend/ you offer Richie a fresh new start.

a/n: Hiii, i know i took my sweet time to update this but i did have some fun stuff to write for kinktober (link here! if you haven't read that) and it truly helped to regain my creativity to continue this bad boy so here ya go!

remember reblogs and comments are the way to show appreciation for your favorite creators and lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Warnings: Minors DNI, p in v unprotected, in the shower, fluff and smut, oral sex (male receiving), cock warming if you squint

Chapter 1.

Carmy’s hand holds a gentle yet firm grip on yours as you scout the various colorful stands selling all sorts of produce along the busy street. Despite the restaurant being closed for a few weeks now, the routine seemed hard to break and you had both woken up early enough to catch the market. Between coffee scented clouds and the murmur of conversation, you stroll alongside Carmen, stopping at every few booths to check out the products and take the vendors information for future deliveries. Though not buying as much as you usually would for The Beef, it felt nice to buy your groceries directly from the source. 

“So what did Marge say about Ava’s classes?” He asks in your direction, distracted by the crate of shiny tomatoes occupying the sidewalk.

“Oh, I think her words were ‘anything for your little niece, my sweet’.” You answer back in a terrible imitation of an english accent. 

“Your little niece, huh?” He adds with a smirk, taking a sip from the tea filled travel cup in his other hand.

“Alright, chill-” You reply with a similar smile. “It’s for Ava.”

You stop and let go of his hand to pick out a box of cherries and pull cash from your bag to pay. Carmy notices the bag starting to fill up and takes the handles off your shoulder, swinging it over his own and threading his fingers through yours once again. He pulls up your hand to place a warm peck on it, raising a red on your face that almost matched the cherries. 

From your point of view, the morning sun casts a brilliant glow over the baseball hat hiding his untamed  hair. Little specks of gold dance along his barely  untrimmed jaw and another blush sparks over your features as the image of you kissing his stubble pops into your head. 

“D’you think it’d be weird if I gave Richie my mom’s number?” You voice your thoughts suddenly. 

He turns to you with a puzzled expression. “And the thought came to you because…?”

You shrug and redirect your attention back to the rows of polished apples beside you. “Dunno. I just- I don’t think she’s ever gone out with anyone since well… y’know.”

Carmy nods his head slowly in a way that shows he understands and doesn’t pressure you to over explain. “And you wanna start with Richie?” He jokes instead. 

“C’mon he’s not a bad guy. And he’s not bad lookin’ either… he just needs a push.” 

A low mumble from his direction makes you turn your head and you almost don’t hear him whisper against the lid of his cup. “If you like stupid  Richie so much, why don’t you fuckin’ marry ‘em…”

You laugh at his words, joyful and warm, and shove him softly with your elbow.  “I meant, that it’d be nice to see them happy...” Your eyes wander up to him again, only to find his already darting over your face, a sweet smile set in place. “To have something like this. Don’t you think?”

Carmy lets go of your hand to throw his arm over your shoulder and pull you in even closer while another giggle blooms over your chest. 

“I think that’s a great idea.” He whispers near your ear. “Your mother’s definitely the push Richie could use.”

Once your bag is too full to keep cramming stuff in and you’ve swept the streets multiple times, you finally make your way out. There’s a tiny old lady in a small booth by the edge selling colorful bouquets that you almost don’t notice. But he does and stops beside it, quickly handing her the money with a shy smile and picking out the one with the most Carnations on it.

“Here.” He says  and leans down to peck your cheek. 

You flush and whisper a sweet ‘thank you’, cradling the delicate buds between your free hand and your chest.  Even in the cold breeze surrounding you, the heat radiating off you is enough to keep you warm all the way home.

**********

He had not known a second of peace after dropping you off at the gallery that morning. Between deep cleaning and crunching numbers with Nat, Carmy’s head felt like it was splitting in two. 

“Jesus fuck…” He mumbles, pinching tightly between his brows in hopes that it dissipates the incoming migraine. “I swear we can’t catch a fuckin’ break.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t make my day either-“ She answers back sarcastically. “We’re gonna need someone to come get it tested-“

“Tested for what?” Richie interrupts, hand pointing to the same spot on the wall where the siblings are staring. 

“For fucking rabies- mold Richard,  what do you think-“

“-You’re makin a storm out of nothin’ Nat-“

“It’s not nothing, it’s mold-” 

“Mold is just a trigger word, okay-“

“Shut the fuck up and let me think.” Carmy speaks louder than intended, the sound vibrating in his skull and making him wince. 

He takes a deep breath then rises his head up again. 

“Yeah- yeah I think we’re gonna need to call someone for that. Check how much it’s gonna be?” He asks his sister, who only rolls her eyes  and nods, turning away. 

“Cousin c’mon, I can totally fix that shit-“

“Cousin-“

“-I just need some sealant and-“

“Cousin-“

“-good as fuckin’ new-“

“Richie!” He shouts and shuts his eyes at the shutter in his head. “Just… let an expert do it, alright?”

He watches as his cousin opens his mouth to respond, then instead closes it and raises his hands in surrender, muttering a soft ‘alright, fine.’ 

“Oh, that reminds me, I gotta go pick up Ava and drop her at your girl’s class. Need anythin’ while I’m gone?” 

Carmy shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose once again, a habit often repeated and confirmed by the tender ache on his nose bridge. “No, we’re good. Still can’t do much without the fuckin’ permits.” He mutters back.

“ Did Jimmy get back to you on that?”

“Not since you asked this morning…” His voice sounds irritated, but it has more to do with the pulsing in his head. 

Richie only nods and despite wanting to, doesn’t keep pushing it. He instead only throws a ‘call me if you need anythin’ and quickly exits through the patched up front door, washing Carmy in yellow afternoon rays before it quickly closes and he's back to the fluorescent blue.

With the silence of the empty restaurant, he allows himself a second to breathe, even falling heavily on one of the few dust covered stools that haven’t been taken down to storage yet. Carmy pulls a cigarette from the fresh package in his back pocket and lights it, taking a deep drag that instantly numbs out the start of a headache. While he takes another deep drag, he pulls out his phone where your text sits under a reminder to ‘call the fucking fridge guy, carmy <3’ from his sister. 

There’s another rattle from the door and he rolls his eyes, typical of his cousin to forget something when he was probably too far away to come back, so he doesn’t even bother to turn around. Instead he presses the call button and waits, leg shaking impatiently over the footrest and camouflaging the steps moving closer to him. 

“Hey…” He hears once the call sends him to voicemail and the delicate tube in his hand almost breaks at the filter. The familiar voice crashes over his back and drowns him instantly in freezing water. “...I’m looking for a Ms. Carmen Berzatto?”

**********

For the first time in weeks, the gallery finally seemed to fall into its usual serene pace. Winter vacation was over and your classes had begun filling up again- with children retelling the tales of the places they visited while out of the city. Marjorie had informed you that morning that word of mouth had followed its course since the charity event and six more kids would be joining you in a few days, and now you had more easels to put together before the weekend.

The small plastic screw falls off your hand for the second time and you groan up to the ceiling before picking it up. The easels came with too many small pieces to count and the fact that you still had four more to finish in the back, did not help with the overall mood. As you place the screw back into the little hole and press the screwdriver against the head, it pops to the side and goes bouncing off out of your view.

While you crouch down and pull your hair back to try and see if it’s anywhere close, the entrance bell signals a new arrival, and the excited steps that follow have you straightening back up. ‘Is it five o'clock already?’ you think and instinctively run your hands down the paint hardened apron, as if that’ll make it seem more presentable. A relaxed breath calms you down at the familiar sound of Richie’s voice calling you from the front.

“Back here!” You call out and begin to group up all the scattered screws you can find for a day where each piece won’t make you want to cry.

“There’s our Michelangelo!” He belts out as soon as he spots you, extending one long arm to his side, while the other is taken hostage by a small little thing cradling a Bluey backpack. 

Once he’s close enough, the extended arm hooks over your shoulders and pulls you to his chest, placing a chaste kiss over your hair. ‘okay-’ is all you can say and push him away  lightly once he’s already letting you go.

“Again- thank you for this-” Richie groans slightly while carefully placing Ava on the floor in front of him, his hands on her shoulders swallowing up her small frame. “She promised to be on her bestest behavior, right Ava?” She nods shyly.

It’s a side of him you’ve never seen before. He’s being tender and kind, and has spoken more than five words without wedging a single ‘fuck’ into the sentence. You can say you’re impressed, though the feeling soon turns sour- like the many times you’ve been a spectator to a loving father/ daughter duo. Richie’s rubbing his thumb softly over her cherry cheeks and even though it’s a simple action that shouldn’t arise anything, the uncomfortable knot in your throat still takes its place. 

From his kneeled position, he can see the various pieces of chunky plastic laying astray and he signals with his head in its direction. 

“New exhibition or somethin’?” 

You clear your throat quickly and wipe the beginning of your sweaty palms on the back of your shirt, embarrassed that you may have been caught staring.

“Uh, no actually. Just some fuc-un-” You correct yourself instantly when your eyes flicker to the small child. “-some fun easels I have to assemble for the new kids.”

“Let me help you-” He’s quick on his feet, already picking up the screwdriver before you get a chance to decline.

“No, leave it- it’s fine. I’ll try again tomorrow… plus, don’t you have to head back to The Beef?”

He only shrugs and takes off his jacket, then begins to count the number of holes on the plastic and pulls out the same number of screws.

“Can’t do much without permits. And you look like you could use the help.”

You crack your locked knuckles as you watch him work, still considering rejecting the offer. But he joins together more pieces in those ten minutes than you have in half an hour, and who are you to reject a man searching for purpose? Instead, you take Ava’s bag from her and lead her to one of the newer stations before the rest of the kids arrive.

“Thank you.” You offer with a small smile in his direction, right before the bell rings again and more hurried footsteps echo in your direction. 

“If you’re still feeling charitable, there’s four more in the back-” You add in a hurry and shrug apologetically at the stunned look over his face. “You offered to help…”

Richie ended up staying through the whole lesson. Wandering every few minutes behind his daughter’s station, arms folded with the screwdriver still in hand and contemplating the canvas like the world’s most respected critic. It took him the whole hour and a half to finish assembling all the easels and only had plastic wrap to pick up by the time the last kid left. 

Ava sat happy in your rolling chair, sugar-free cookie crumbs sprinkled around her face and paint stained fingers.

“Isn’t that shit toxic?” Richie asks through a concerned face as he bent down to pick up the last of the trash.

You also turn in her direction and shrug, cleaning your own hands with a rag. “Not really, we buy non-toxic for finger painting. It was easier than asking them to stop licking it off…” He only nods at your response- but not fully convinced- sends Ava to wash her hands a second time.

“Thanks again for the help.” You call out with a nod in his direction, then bite your lip. 

You don’t know what to say or how to bring it up, only left staring at him as your mouth opens and closes, popping the bubble wrap in your hands. “Hey, Richie?” 

He turns, brows raised. ‘There’s no turning back now’.

“Have you tried uh… y’know, dating after Ava’s mom?”

“Listen kid, you know I love ya, but Carmy’s family and-” You roll your eyes and throw the trash in his direction, barely missing his head.

“Not like that, dumbass!” You scold with an amused smile. “I just thought- god this is so fuckin’ weird- here.”

Richie’s expression is puzzled, eyes darting between the contents of your outstretched hand and your own flushed face. He reaches towards it and when he finally takes it, your hand retrieves back to your body and crosses over your chest.

“And this is…?”

“It’s my mother’s number… I know you kinda got a thing for her.” You wave your hand in the air when it looks like he’s about to contradict your statement. “C’mon dude, I have eyes, ‘kay? ’m not blind. A bit grossed out, but not blind.” You admit the last part only to yourself.

The silence breaks with the sound of soft steps on the stairs and an enthusiastic rendition of ‘shake it off’. Richie folds the small paper and buries it securely in his jacket pocket, clearing his throat in the process.

“She likes white wine but not the sweet kind, salsa- both food and the dance- and don’t even mention Celia Cruz or she’ll never shut up about her.” You rush through as the little steps move closer to the back.

“Thanks.” He mumbles back, then a slight grin forms over his face. “So does that make me your dad now?” He teases and you groan, rolling your eyes for the third time in less than two hours.

 “Don’t make me regret it- and don’t make it weirder, okay?!”

Your phone rings from inside the apron before he has a chance to bicker back and a smile grows on your face at the caller ID. 

“Hey Carm, ready for later?” You turn away from Richie, who cleans the crumbs off Ava’s face before swinging her bag over his shoulder and waving goodbye.

There’s a few silent seconds on the other line, then a heavy sigh travels through the phone and perches over your chest. “Uh, yeah about that��”

“Oh no…” You interrupt before he even has the chance to explain.

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry-” He begins and you can hear the shuffling on the other side. You can almost picture him running his hand through his already messy hair and staring up at the ceiling as if he’ll find all of life’s answers there. “I’ll explain at home but right now I gotta stay later.”

“It’s okay, I’ll just reschedule and see if they can show us the place another day.” Your voice sounds reassuring, though all that’s running through your head is the lightweight promise he made a few days back.

“Yes-okay, great.” Carmy answers rushed, not catching the slight disappointment in your tone. “This is turning out way more difficult than I thought.” He mumbles against the mic.

“Well, y'know ‘heavy is the head’ ‘n all that.” Your smile grows nervous as you try lightening the mood but only a distracted half sigh, half laugh follows a second later.

He clears his throat and rushes through his words again. “Listen, don’t make dinner. I’ll buy us somethin’ on the way home, okay?”

“Yeah, sure… see you at home.” 

**********

The train ride home bombards your thoughts with a little guilt. You couldn’t help the slight disappointment ringing in your ears from the failed promise. Then you remember how hard he’s been working lately- or since you’ve known him really- and you feel foolish for letting such a small thing get to you. 

So once you arrive home, instead of dinner, you round up the few candles you brought with you and place them strategically around the small bathroom. Then you do your best to scrub the paint out from under your fingernails and strip into nothing but the soft fluffy blue robe he gave you on Christmas. Once you see the short ‘omw’ text, you begin to light the candles, praying they won’t burn the place down, and entertain yourself by arranging the Carnations from that morning in a little vase you made at the gallery. ‘I should give it a friend’ 

The muffled jingle of keys cuts your train of thought short, followed by his footsteps and a heavy sigh once he shuts the door and takes his coat off.

“Babe?” 

“In the kitchen!” You call back and bite your lip in anticipation, quickly rearranging the robe so your collarbone is a little more exposed.

“What? No- I brought dinner…” His tone dies down once he spots you around the corner, take out bag weighing down from his outstretched arm.

“‘M not making dinner.” You answer with a soft smile and keep your attention on the flowers sitting beside you on the counter. 

His gaze shamelessly runs along your bare legs, crossed in a way that exposes all the way up to your upper thigh but no more than that. You take your time to finish trimming the rest of the stems, then push the vase to the side and swing your legs to hop off the counter. The movement seems absolutely graceful to him and he can’t do anything but lean against the wall to regain his balance as you move closer to him.

You hold on to the sides of his torso and stand up on your toes to kiss his lips sweetly. You wanted it to be a quick teasing kiss, but his hand wraps around your back immediately and presses your chests together. He sighs against your mouth, the ‘thump’ of the bag hitting the floor vibrates in the room and soon both his arms circle you close. 

Your hands cling to his broad shoulders and your toes drag along the floor as he lifts you lightly and moves deeper into the room. The simple movement makes your head swoon with  love.

“...missed you.” He mumbles between kisses down your cheek and buries his face in the crook of your neck, sighing again.

“Hard day?”

He only nods, too occupied with the kisses he leaves on your exposed skin. You place another on his hair and peel yourself away slowly, hands still tight over his. 

“C’mon.” You whisper and nod deeper into the apartment.

His brow creases with questions he doesn’t ask, instead following behind you silently into the room. The usual white tiles glow yellow with the tiny dancing flames, Carmy’s eyes instantly catch on to the flickering shadows and take his breath away. When you turn to him, his eyes are wide and soft, with the small specks of the candle wicks glistening inside them. Your hand lets go of his to run a tender finger over a smudge on his cheek, while the other begins to undo the knot on your robe.

He’s motionless. The only sign of movements come from the slight bob of his Adam’s apple and the way his eyes constantly drag down to your chest before he pulls them back up. 

“I wanna help you relax…” Your voice is sweet, barely above a whisper and drowned out by the sound of the soft fabric cascading down your body and pooling around your feet. “Can I?” 

All he can do is nod, transfixed by the way your tan skin glows almost golden in the flickering lights. He lets you pull the white shirt over his head, then while he finishes undressing, you turn the water on and watch as the steam starts invading the empty space. Carmy’s hands caress the sides of your hips and little kisses spark the goosebumps on your shoulder, but once you’re both fully inside, you wiggle away from his touch and turn to face him again.

“I’m taking care of you.” You repeat, and grab his biceps to push him deeper into the streaming water.

You let it fall over his head until the locks grow a shade darker and most of them lose their bounce, then you turn the water down and reach for your scented shampoo.

“Turn ‘around for me?.” You request while you lather the soap on your hands.

Carmy rolls his eyes and gives you a toothy grin, but obliges anyway. You can see his shoulders instantly relax as your fingers tread through the curls, nails raking gently over his scalp in a rhythmic motion that has his neck losing a hold of his head and tipping it towards the cold tile. A smug smile covers your face, wet strands of hair decorating your cheeks, and you even make an effort to continue the gentle movements even after the bubbles have disappeared.

Instead of washing it away, you bring the massage down to his neck, thumbs pressing insistently over the numerous knots you find on your way down. He’s no different than the clay you’ve been experimenting with at work, you offer him as much tenderness and dedication as you would any other work of art.

The soft sounds of his breathing mix with the thin stream of water rushing over your bodies. You didn’t even notice how close you’ve moved to him until your breath bounces back to your cheeks. You take the chance to place little wet kisses along his spine as your fingers dig into the muscles of his back and the shudder he breathes out makes the taste of shampoo on your lips completely worth it. You press them to his warm skin again and again as your hands work down his spine and to the pretty dimples decorating the bottom of it. 

By the time your movements have ceased, both of your breathing is struggling with need.

You use the last bit of control in your voice to call his name. “Carmy…” It’s almost silent, but the plea in your tone is enough to make him turn to you.

The sight of his blown out pupils and the way his hair darkens his face is enough to make you come on the spot. Without hesitation, you gently drape your arms over his puffing chest, raking your nails over it as you pepper kisses in a messy line down. Your knees fall over the tile with a soft slap that resonates in the quiet room.

“Fuck-” Carmen blows out, eyes fixated on how fucking good you look on your knees for him. 

Your need is too strong to tease him, instead you take his already hard cock in your hand and start giving it a few soft pumps without losing his stare. 

“Will you let me take care of you?” You ask again in a sultry voice. The water droplets have accumulated over your lashes and your wet hair cascades over your shoulders, making you look ethereal in Carmy’s eyes and all he can do is nod and sigh when you kiss the tip.

His hand flies up to grip the slick tiles when you finally wrap your lips around his girth and take him fully into your mouth. The rhythm is slow and torturous as you pull moan after groan from the depths of his chest, until he grows too impatient and his hips begin to buck forward into your mouth.

“That’s it baby, that’s it… oh fuck.” Carmy whispers words of encouragement that travel straight to your aching pussy. He groans into the side of his extended arm, but only for a short second, because he can’t dare to take his eyes off you any longer than that.

Each sound he makes pushes your movements faster and each slurp and drag of your tongue makes him groan even deeper, it’s a vicious cycle of obscene sounds that neither of you want to break. Through hooded eyes, he spots your other hand dragging into the inside of your parted thighs and he thinks he might come just from that alone. 

With a few more bobs of your head, you pull him out with a soft ‘pop’ and he takes the chance to catch his breath, before leaning down, hooking his hands under your arms and pulling you up to him in one swift motion.

In a second, your feet are up and off the floor and the cold contrast of the tiles on your hot back brings chills over your excited skin. He latches onto your lips in seconds, one hand cradling your cheek while the other wraps tightly around your waist. Your legs circle his hips with strength as he rubs his stiff erection between your thighs.

“You like sucking my cock, huh?” He whispers in a shaky breath while his hips grind incessantly over your slick cunt. “Look how fuckin’ wet you got. You gonna let me take care of you now, baby?”

He pulls his hand from your face and readjusts his arms around your thighs so he has a better grip on you, but doesn’t slip in yet. Instead he drags the length along your folds and watches you whine and squirm with want between his arms.

“Yes, Bear, take care of me please. I need you.” His cock jolts at your words and the neediness behind them is enough teasing for him.

He slips right in, like coming home, and wastes no time in pulling back out to set a rapid pattern that has your breasts bouncing in his face. Carmy buries his mouth by your neck, dragging his teeth down to your chest and back up, leaving crescent shaped bruises that you’ll probably have to cover with makeup tomorrow. Right now though, he doesn’t care, he’s proud of them and how they represent that you’re truly and wholeheartedly his.

“You’re fuck-ing me so good.” A string of mewls falls from your lips at the mixture of sensations and your nails dig firmly into his shoulders to help ground you back. 

But Carmy’s hips snap up continuously to a spot he’s learnt you like, making your head fall heavy over his shoulders. You’re gasping for air with each stroke and drag of his cock, unable to regain strength in your neck to look up at his eyes. 

“Yeah?” He whispers near your ear, erupting shivers along the skin his breath caresses as he continues railing into you. “And you’re takin’ me like such a good girl.” His movements are too fast for you to keep up with your hips, so all you do is take it, and happily so.

“C’mon baby, come f’me yeah?” 

You’re too high to listen to his words, but your body reacts on command as the tension in your navel snaps and a guttural moan rips your throat open. Carmy follows close behind you, groaning into the side of your neck and pressing you impossible closer to his heaving chest.

As the bliss dissipates into tiny waves, you reach up to his clean locks. He answers back with another soft kiss.

“Can we stay like this?” He asks timidly into your skin. 

You smile at the sudden softness and reach down to fully turn the water off. “Don’t you wanna finish showering first? or… pull out?”

Carmy answers with a soft ‘no.’. You expect him to let you down so you can both dry yourselves at least, but he doesn’t. Instead, he presses you securely to his chest again and makes his way out of the shower. 

You squeal and press your thighs hard around his own when he leans down to blow out the candles, one by one, in fear that he may drop you. A relaxed laugh vibrates in his chest and joins your nervous giggle as he manages the task flawlessly.

“See, I got you.” He says with a proud smile- one that crinkles the sides of his eyes and makes him look boyish and carefree- as he carries you to the warm bed.

‘I know you do' You think to yourself all night, wrapped in the safety of his arms.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne , @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha , @yum-yahgurt , @pussy-f41ry , @kirakombat , @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 , @feyhunter78 and that's it lmao

[sanjoongie]

𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝓟𝓼𝔂𝓬𝓱𝓸~ 𝓢𝓪𝓷'𝓼 𝓟𝓞𝓥

(♡´▽`♡)🔪🩸collab with @daesukiii. Read her part first here

(♡´▽`♡)🔪🩸Pairing: Choi San x Reader (f)

(♡´▽`♡)🔪🩸Genre: Horror, smut

(♡´▽`♡)🔪🩸Au: non-idol au

(♡´▽`♡)🔪🩸Trope: established relationship, yandere

(♡´▽`♡)🔪🩸Word Count: 1,275

(♡´▽`♡)🔪🩸Rating: 18+, MDNI

(♡´▽`♡)🔪🩸Warnings: ⚠️ yandere behavior ie sweet on the outside but would kill to protect their darling, violence, blood, death (a lot) ⚠️

(♡´▽`♡)🔪🩸Kinks: oral (f), strength kink, wall sex, glove kink, blood kink

(♡´▽`♡)🔪🩸Author's Note: this is dark, this is gritty, this is gorey, please be advised when you read this, it's really not for the faint of heart!!!

(♡´▽`♡)🔪🩸Banner by @daesukiii and divider cut from it

San should be focusing on the feeling of the once-hard skull feeling squishy in his hands but his anger burned too high for textile pleasures. Who did the waiter think he was to be even perceiving his darling? Let alone look down your shirt?! Your breasts, your body, YOU were his and only his. 

“Why?” San said in a growl that lifted his lip in a sneer. “Don’t you have any manners? Or know better? Stupid little rabbits like you think they can nibble clover without watching out for the fox?”

San frowned slightly, sure he made a mess of his outfit. Did he have brain matter on him or was it just blood? Finding pieces of people he killed on him later was like finding food crumbs. Inconvenient at best. 

Slowly, he ground the pulp that was once someone's head into the grating brick wall of the alleyway of the restaurant he had just finished eating at with you. His blood boiled to a loud rumble in his ears as he recalled how uncomfortable you looked discovering the waiter looking down your décolletage.

“Jokes on you, chump!” San giggled, high pitch and definitely off. “I’m the one who’s going for ice cream with her after. I’m the one taking her home and you’re never going home, are you?”

“San?”

Nothing draws his attention faster than your soft voice in his ears; his love, his life, his purpose on this earth. San shoved the body unceremoniously behind a dumpster, cleaning up and preparing for a more pleasant evening moving forward. 

The next few days are stilted yet comfortable at the same time. San studied your movements, which were the same only tainted with a hesitance now that you had seen the side of him that loved you unconditionally. He didn’t understand why you were so afraid now. 

It took him a few evenings to realize that you weren’t afraid of him; you were afraid of this new side of yourself that appreciated what he did for you. 

It started with a test. San was used to your false friendliness with others. You did this to fit in, much like himself. But he watched with his Adam’s apple bobbing, as you flirted with the convenience store clerk. That one found an untimely death on the roof with a plastic bag over his head. A man who bumped into you when you walked in the park one afternoon hand in hand ended up fish food in the pretty pond in said park. 

And every time he took care of the trash that dared bother you, he always made sure to kiss your temple and tell you he would love you forever. 

One particular night, when he was sliding through the shadows along the hallway after killing a man who he had overheard speaking about your ass, he found your soft, perfect form was in a chair in the living room. 

“San?” You called out with confidence that made San curious.

“Babe?” San straightened, automatically adjusting the gloves he ritually adorned before his kills. 

“Don’t clean up just yet,” You demanded.

San tilted his head and smiled, his eyes disappearing in his adoration for you. “Of course, my love, whatever you desire.” He stood with his hands loosely in front of him, one hand on his wrist, awaiting further instructions.

“You didn’t give me a kiss yet. You always do when you get home.” You mentioned, a little too casually.

San, without hesitation, crossed the wooden floor with quick steps, to press his lips to yours. He could practically feel the vibrations of your shudder run through your body and into his lips. What did that shudder mean? San’s hands, still gloved, whispered over your robe and automatically stroked your spine. You practically melted against his jacket, as you usually did when he attacked your most vulnerable spot. 

“Only my hands can touch you,” San murmured into your hair. Your scent enveloped him and he couldn't help but inhale deeply. 

“San, do you truly love me that much?” The question comes from a different line of thought and he was pretty sure he knew what you were thinking. You are his darling, of course, he knows everything about you.

San pushed you back by grabbing both your upper arms and then moved his hands to cup your face instead. His thumbs stroked your cheeks, eyes almost teary-eyed in his insanity. He could never dwell on just how much he loved you otherwise he’d go over a cliff he could never come back from. You needed him so he could never entertain it, even though he was sure he would have some fun along the way. 

There is blood on your robe, smeared along your face, and San thought perhaps you’ve never looked more beautiful than covered in the blood of the man who dared touch your privileged body. “If I can’t protect you, then what is my purpose?”

San watched as you fought with your logic and your beast. You knew what the wet substance was against your face and you knew what was on San. But when your tongue sneaked out subconsciously to catch the drop along the corner of your lip, San thought that he loved you even more than before. You were his to protect, his to twist, his to love forever. 

“I love you,” You whispered and San’s heart dipped and soared. 

San smiled through the tears that did actually fall down his cheeks. You, his beloved, his love, loved him. He knew you did, of course he did, but it never failed to knock him senseless when you said it. San peppered your face with kisses, sniffling and laughing, until he kissed your lips and you moaned into his mouth.

It wasn’t long before he pulled the knot to your robe to discover you had nothing underneath. With one gloved hand on the small of your back and the other cupping the back of your head, San had your back against the wall between the windows, making out with you and grinding his slacks against your bare cunt. San was fully clothed and you had your robe falling into the crook of your elbows, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

You whined against his mouth until he broke the kiss. “San, make love to me,” You pleaded.

San shook his head. “No, let me pray to you.”

San, with the help of you balancing back onto the wall, slid down your body so that your legs were over his shoulder as he braced his hands against the wallpaper. He had only the use of his mouth but it did not hinder his lips and teeth nipping and pulling at your lower lips. 

Your hands dived into his hair, holding him against you, encouraging him to make love with his lips against yours. His tongue worked against you sloppily. At first, he was more in the mind set to sweep up as much of your wetness along his taste buds than give you pleasure. His muffled groan at the taste of you made you cry out in pleasure. 

San brought you to completion as your thighs shook and he slurped up all the creamy goodness that came from your cunt. You breathed heavily above him and he let you slide down with him until both your asses were on the floor. 

San leaned over, unhinged and unleashed, and licked your cheek, where the blood had been smeared against your face. “I love you, forever.”

You giggled, an edge to yours that San recognized, having balanced on the same knife’s edge of sanity. You were so perfectly his. “I love you too, Sannie.”

[aftgficrec]

Staff Recs - Autumn Roundup 2024

Some fics with fall vibes to warm your soul. -AFTG Fic Rec Fam

previous recs:

staff fave Halloween here (includes previous Halloween recs and supernatural roundup)

Fall Exchange 2020 here

‘doubt thou the stars be fire’ here

‘morbid stuff’ series here

‘The End Is Up To Us’ here

‘Autumn Crocus’ here

‘The Suit Universe’ part 8 here

‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’ here

‘FoxTail Cafe’ series part 13 here

‘Apple Picking Day’ here

‘Fair Games’ here

‘little ghost’ here

‘Lucky Strike’ here

‘Foxglove Court’ series here

‘Thanks for nothing’ here

‘Teaching a caged bird to fly’ series part 5 here

‘Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage’ here

‘The Massive Continuity of Ducks’ here

‘Spell it Out’ here

‘10 tips to stress less, without the tips’ here

‘Being So Normal’ here

‘Aidan Minyard’ here

Honeycomb by moonix [Rated T, 10871 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

In which Kevin owns a restaurant in a picturesque small town, Andrew is his chef, Neil disrupts the routine, no one gets poisoned with mushrooms, and life isn't so bad.

tw: implied/referenced eating disorders, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

Seasons of memory by butallmystars [Rated G, 4772 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil was all sorts of alluring and unusual; a thin strip of seemingly restless energy, eyes moving almost as much as his legs did, the bespoke lines of his blazer the most uniform thing about him and yet somehow not out of place.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

you wish I was yours (and I hope that you're mine) by lesbiankaz [Not Rated, 9526 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

“Aaron Minyard,” Allison said in a dramatic tone. “Truth or dare?” Aaron rolled his eyes. “Dare.” Kevin wasn't surprised. He knew Aaron would prefer to do a stupid dare instead of telling a single thing about himself. “I dare you,” she paused, making suspense, “to spend seven minutes in heaven with Kevin.” - Kevin has a crush on Aaron. Allison tries to help.

5 ultra-cute fall date ideas that will make your man fall more for you by Bravbo [Rated G, 1364 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

The problem starts with one Neil Josten. Neil who has apparently never celebrated any holidays. Neil, with his blasé attitude about violence. Neil, with his distressingly blue eyes and freckles. Neil, who Andrew want to put on a jar and study like a bug. Yes, Neil Josten is a problem. It´s him that has driven Andrew to this, seeking advice on google like a teenage girl just to make sure Neil has the best holiday.

tw: fire

Float Down (Like Autumn Leaves) series by Apaleyellow [Not Rated, 7309 Words, Collection, Updated Oct 2024]

Part 1: fill my cup half empty (because it's never been half full) [5221 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2024] The boy's face in the reflection was pale, almost translucent, with freckles dotting his cheeks and auburn hair falling in untamed curls around his face. His eyes were an icy blue, piercing and filled with a haunting sadness. Nathaniel Wesninski. The Butcher's son. The ghost of the manor. -- OR -- The one where Andrew is a best-selling horror author who visits the Wesninski Manor in search of inspiration for his next book.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder 

Part 2: would we survive in a horror movie? [2088 Words, Complete, 2024] Their moment was interrupted by Seth's booming voice. "Alright, losers. Time for a real story. Ever heard of the Butcher of Baltimore?" -- OR -- The one where the Foxes are telling scary stories around a campfire and only Andrew knows who Neil really is.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder 

penchant by rooftopkisses [Rated T, 5051 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

When Neil is recruited by Coach Wymack to join the track team at Palmetto High School, he draws the attention of Andrew, the artsy loner, as well as Kevin, the sport’s current state champion.

Rebel Rebel by Andreil_pipedream [Rated M, 7905 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

October settles down on the small town outside of Baltimore. Werewolves start haunting the forests and a certain orange cat gets curious. Nell meets an interesting girl who she may or may not have a crush on. After an awkward first meeting, things are made worse- or better- when she finds out they go to the same school. After a few risky decisions and oblivious flirting, she gets a date where everything starts to go wrong.

tw: child abuse, tw: extreme transphobia, tw: gaslighting, tw: confinement, tw: food deprivation, tw: implied/referenced murder

it's still the autumn leaves by TogeMythia [Rated T, 3389 Words, Complete, 2024]

‘Can I come with you?’ Andrew paused, he was sat on the floor with one foot awkwardly in the air and a black sock with an orange pumpkin pattern halfway pulled on. ‘What?’ He asked. ‘Can I come with you? Wherever you are going.’ - or Neil and Andrew spend an autumn afternoon together.

A Bushel and a Peck by justdk [Rated T, 1405 Words, Complete, 2020]

Andrew picked a few low hanging apples, handing one to Neil. They wiped them off on their shirts and snacked on them while they looked for the rest of the team. The sweet, tangy juice filled Neil’s mouth and ran down his chin. It tasted way better than a store-bought apple. Overhead crows called to each other and the smell of apples filled the crisp, autumn air. Neil closed his eyes and breathed in deep, holding in the feeling of freedom and possibility. When he opened his eyes, he found Andrew looking at him, hazel eyes warm and steady. [or: the Foxes go apple picking]

Bets, Blind Dates, and Dares. Oh My! by makebelieveanything [Rated T, 3761 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew loses a bet to Aaron and Kevin and he has to go on two blind dates - they go about as well as he would expect. Is Andrew stuck in a rom-com or is this really how life works?

gourd vibes only by otatop [Not Rated, 3750 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

A mini road trip up through New England to meet the foxes.

Disparity by Jeni182 [Rated G, 3781 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

Andrew is a criminal justice professor who keeps finding excuses to visit the library where a certain red head works.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

hopscotch heart by moonix [Rated M, 2046 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

Podfic here

Neil has a terrible time at a party. Andrew shows up and Neil has a slightly less terrible time at a party.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: anxiety

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness by seaspeak [Not Rated, 869 Words, Complete, 2016, Locked]

In which Jean falls in love with the Fall, thanks to Jeremy

There Was Only One Pumpkin by familiarwildflowers [Not Rated, 2275 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

To get Nicky off his back about his dating life, Neil decided to lie. Surely there would be no consequences? That's what Neil thought, until, while on a visit to a pumpkin patch, Andrew's lot steps in and he's forced to confront his lie.

Pumpkin Patch by H_bee69 [Rated G, 1600 Words, Complete, 2023]

Part 1 of Spooky times and autumn vibes 

Neil wants to go to the pumpkin patch and who is Andrew to deny Neil.

until I fell off from that peak by eeveepkmnfan [Rated M, 4817 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil Josten lives and tries to come to terms with what that means. Or, Neil collects leaves - Andrew vocally protests.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Forever Falling by cshogg [Rated G, 1370 Words, Complete, 2023]

Snippets of Neil and Andrew's life during autumn: trying new things, rewriting traumatic experiences, and learning to love the seasons like normal people do.

[festivalsofmargot]

Illicit Affairs {Dad!Garreth Weasley x F!Professor!Reader}

AGED UP CHARACTERS, 18+ SCENARIOS (Characters are adults, graduated from Hogwarts, and are 18+)

Introduction: Garreth thinks back on his life with you, and it was far from perfect. But he’d relive every second if he had the chance. 

Word Count: ~ 13,100 (I think I’m gonna puke)

Warnings: Smut, Angst without a happy ending, Cheating, Loss

Author’s Note: Want to say right now that cheating is disgusting. This is purely a fantasy scenario. So if you get triggered by cheating I highly recommend you skip out on this fanfic. This romanticizes it and I didn’t really write the person getting cheated on as a realistic human being. More than anything, this is smut with a plot. I watched Cyberpunk: Edgerunners and I’ve never felt so empty inside. So writing this, I just felt like being sad, ya know? Like literally ruining my entire month.😃 Anyways, it’s 10 pm my time so still Wednesday for me. Bone Apple Tea Weasley Wednesday-ers! I’m going to hyperventilate and cry in bed. (Like wtf did I write this...?)

Songs (if interested):

Illicit Affairs - Taylor Swift

Little Stranger - Dawid Podsiadło

I Really Want to Stay at Your House - Rosa Walton, Hallie Coggins

Baby Teeth - Bunny Lowe

It’s My Fault - End Credits -  Roque Baños

-

Whether the warmth in Garreth Weasley’s cheeks was coming from the multiple glasses of whiskey he had or the fireplace he sat across, he wasn’t sure. But it was welcome all the same. As he looked into the flames and slouched in his chair, lightly rubbing at his chin, he thought back on his life with you.

The two of you had been the best of friends while you attended Hogwarts. The moment he asked you to sneak a fwooper feather out of Professor Sharp’s office, he had felt in his gut that you were going to be someone special. 

He had always been upset he only had three years with you at Hogwarts, and you had been too. Both of you had said “If only we met in first year.” too many times to count, but meant it every single time.

He knew it now that you had felt the same way about him. But during school, it was a constant struggle not to kiss you, especially after every dangerous outing the two of you had gone on. He had fallen hard and fast for you during his fifth year, and that infatuation never seemed to dissipate, even to this day. 

Everything about you was perfect to him, you had fit together just right. But he was afraid if he ever confessed and it turned out you hadn’t seen him in that way, he’d lose you forever. 

Thankfully, you had made the first move a few years after the two of you graduated. Merlin knows his cowardly ass never would have. That following month in Hogsmeade had easily been the best month of his life.

-

“If you’re sweet, maybe I’ll get you that discount.” Garreth said coolly to the woman with fox eyes before him, restocking some potion ingredients on the shelves.

“Are you sure sweet is what you want, Gar?” The woman flirted back, and Garreth’s body tensed at the shortened version of his name coming off her lips. He was able to keep an easy smile on his face and continue restocking, but he still didn’t like anyone else calling him that except for you.

“Fine, play coy.” She sighed playfully when he kept quiet and she made her way out. She gave him a little wave and as soon as she was out of sight, he let the smile vanish from his face. He didn’t even remember this woman’s name truth be told, thank Merlin she left before he had a chance to let that slip.

Garreth had been a little more reckless than usual these past few months. He hadn’t received a letter back from you in ages. As soon as you graduated from Hogwarts, you pursued the magizoology field while he went to work for Parry Pippin.

Garreth knew your main focus would be going after any poacher you came across rather than studying magical beasts. Try as you might to talk down what you did in your letters, he wasn’t stupid, he knew you. 

Your silence had filled him with so much dread, he was wishing more than anything you had just decided you wanted nothing to do with him anymore. He didn’t care, as long as you weren’t dead. Please Merlin, don’t be dead.

To distract himself, he dove head first into the bachelor lifestyle. Drinking and women were his main hobbies outside of J. Pippin’s Potions. Being young and handsome, living on his own, and having plenty of his own money now, he was making himself enjoy it.

Garreth was manning the store by himself that day, looking over stock and crossing items off his parchment when he heard the doorbell ring. He absently greeted whoever had just entered the shop, not taking his eyes off his list.

“Welcome to J. Pippin’s, let me know if you need help with anything.”

“Gar?”

At the sound of your voice, Garreth nearly broke his neck turning to look at you. His eyes were wide, breath hitching in his throat. 

The moment he locked eyes with you, you lost every word you had planned on saying to him. “I um… It’s good to see you again.” 

Garreth dropped everything he was holding, closing the distance between you two in only a few steps, pulling you into a tight embrace. You didn’t hesitate to hold him back, letting his warmth envelope you.

“I was worried you were dead.” He whispered into your hair as the relief washed over him.

“I nearly was.” You admitted.

Keeping his hold on you, he pulled back just enough to look at your face. He noticed then that there was a small bandage on your cheek, and some other areas looked recently healed.

“That’s why I’m here. I needed to see you. Needed to tell you I -”

Garreth looked into your eyes and listened close, silently urging you to continue. 

“I’m in love with you, Gar.” You breathed, as if a huge weight lifted off your shoulders finally telling him. “I always have been. It was close during my last outing and - When I thought I wasn’t going to make it, my biggest regret was never telling you. It’s alright if you don’t feel the same. I - I just needed you to -”

Garreth silenced you by crashing his lips onto yours. Keeping one arm around your waist, he brought up one hand to cup your jaw. He had caught you by surprise, but it didn’t take long to register what was happening and kiss him back. 

This. This right here was exactly what you two always dreamed of doing ever since your fifth year at Hogwarts.

The sound of voices approaching the shop from outside made him tear his lips away from yours. He took a step back and you couldn't help the bashful smile that tugged at your lips.

"Sorry. Parry Pippin will have my head if he caught word of me snogging in the shop while he was away."

"No need to apologize." You chuckled and turned to leave. "I can leave you to it."

Garreth's eyes widened. "Where are you going?" He asked in a panic and took a step towards you. 

"I was going to run a few errands around Hogsmeade. Get a room."

Garreth opened his mouth to protest, but some customers came in. "Welcome." He called, dismissing his usual greeting line and looking back at you. "Don't get a room." Garreth said loud enough for only you to hear.

You gave him a smile and nod, then took your leave. He made his way back behind the counter, watching your form out the window until you were out of sight. How was he supposed to carry on working as normal now that you were back and he had free reign to kiss you?

-

By the time you finished up what you needed to do and headed back to J. Pippin's Potions, Garreth was hurriedly closing up the shop. 

He looked up with a beaming smile when you walked through the door again. Setting down some empty vials, he strode up and pulled you into another deep kiss. He was learning fast that he wasn't going to be able to help himself around you.

Pulling away, he went straight back to his closing routine, aiming to finish as fast as possible so he could leave with you. "Get everything you need?" 

"I did." You got a bit shifty, wondering if you should tell him what you had done or it would seem like too much too soon. It hadn't seemed that way to you, having known Garreth for so long. But you hoped he would be happy to hear the news.

"You know you’re staying with me, right?" He said as he put away some ingredients.

You smiled. "I was hoping that was what you meant earlier." 

He shot you a smirk over his shoulder. "I think you'll be very proud to see how tidy I keep the place."

"Oh will I?" You quipped, nervously glancing down to your feet and shoving your hands in your pockets.

Garreth took a double take at you, his brows furrowing in concern. “What’s got you so quiet?” A worrying feeling began to set in that he may have been too bold to assume you would be alright with staying with him.

You raised your brows and looked back up at him. “Nothing.” You assured. “Sorry, I uh -” You let out an amused huff at having gotten yourself so worked up. “I got something I want to tell you when we get to your place.”

The ease came back to him as he locked up some cabinets. “You know you already told me you’re madly in love with me, right?” 

“I don’t remember saying ‘madly’.”

“Oh, silly me. ‘Devastatingly’ was the word.”

“That could have been it.” You shrugged, biting back your amused smirk. “Wouldn’t hurt to say it a few more times.”

A cheeky grin pulled at his lips. You love me.

“And you haven’t said it back by the way.” You teased.

Garreth’s movements slowed to a stop and he looked back at you, quirking a brow. “I haven’t? Yes, I have. Haven’t I?” Fuck, I haven’t. He had said it in his head so many times, were you certain he hadn’t even slipped up and said it aloud once? 

“Well, then…” Turning out the lights and grabbing his coat, he shrugged it on and strode up to you. He cupped your face in his hands and planted another kiss on your lips. “I love you too.”

“That was corny.”

“It was.” He took your hand in his and led you out. “I’ll work on it.”

-

“After you.” Garreth said as he opened the door to his home. 

“Wow.” Your eyes widened as they roamed his place. “You weren’t joking when you said you kept it tidy. I thought you were, or at least had a different definition of tidy.” You turned back towards him and looked him up and down suspiciously. “This isn’t the Gar I knew back at Hogwarts.”

“I’m a changed man.” He said coming up and pulling you against him, capturing your lips. How could you expect him to keep his hands off of you at this point? If you asked him, he’d say the two of you had some lost time to make up for. 

On one hand, it was wonderful knowing you pined for him all these years just as he had for you. But on the other, it was a bit frustrating knowing he could have been with you all this time, could have pulled you off to secret corners and kissed you senseless.

“Wait wait,” You slowed his kisses to a halt and took glances around his home. “Is there a room I can change in? I’ve been traveling all day and want to get out of these clothes.”

“Bedroom’s just there.” He gestured with his head towards it, not taking his eyes off of you. You gave him a grateful nod, slipping from his embrace.

“Won’t be a moment.” You called over your shoulder.

While he waited for you, he decided to grab some glasses from his cupboard. Maybe you’d be up for a stiff drink or two with him to celebrate. But truth be told, he needed something to help with his nerves. He was beyond elated to have you back, he didn’t want to mess this up.

His hands were shaky as he poured, and he cursed under his breath. The nerves were really hitting him. Easy now, Weasley. It’s you. We’ve been friends for years. He tried to inwardly calm himself.

But you weren’t quite friends anymore were you? Your confessions meant you were seeing each other now, right? So he was heading into uncharted territory with you. Merlin, of all the times for him to overthink in his life, why did it have to be then?!

He heard his door open and he turned back towards you with drinks in hand. “How would you feel about -” Garreth’s jaw went slack and he dropped the glasses, shattering them along the floor. You were standing at his bedroom doorway, completely naked.

“Oh fuck.” He croaked.

“Come here, Gar.”

“Yep, coming.” Though his mind was a mess, he was thankful to every higher power he could think of that his body kicked into gear to get to you. 

His hands went for your hips first, gripping the soft skin there as his mouth went for your neck like a starved man, leaving open mouthed kisses and bites everywhere he could. So this is what it’s like to taste every bit of you, I always wondered.

You let out the most delicious sounds as he walked the two of you towards his bed. You fell back and he fell on top of you. You instantly wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding him close. You had dreamed of having him like this for so long, it was hard to keep a loose grip.

“Mmh. Wait. Let me -” He sat up, and with hurried fingers began undoing his vest, you sat up as well and helped him, the both of you smiling like ecstatic idiots. If there was a feeling to describe looking down at you looking back up at him as you went for his clothes, it would be euphoria. 

Shrugging off his vest and then going for his shirt, he couldn’t believe how many layers he had on. Was this really what he dressed himself in every day? How did he ever find the time? 

Slipping off his shirt and unable to keep his lips away a moment more, he bent down to capture yours again. He stayed locked with you as he went for his pants. Thankfully there weren’t as many buttons as the shirt, and he shoved them down with your help. But the pants caught on his legs. He stood to his feet to get them off but tripped over himself, hitting the ground with a loud thunk.

“Ow!” He cackled, finally kicking them off and you went into hysterics. 

Climbing back onto the bed with a groan, he smiled down at you as he crawled over and laid on top of you. The nerves completely gone as you continued to howl with laughter. 

Sighing, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, and you held him lovingly against you as you tried to calm down.

“Satisfied already, are you?” He said with a feigned annoyance, but the grin was still on his face, hidden against your neck.

“Yes, very much so.” Your laughter dissipated into little giggles as you wiped away the amused tears from your eyes.

The two of you laid there like that for a moment, just holding each other. And he thought back to when you had cuddled and napped together in the Room of Requirement frequently during your Hogwarts days. How in Merlin’s name did he think that was just something friends did? He certainly wasn’t cuddling with Leander Prewett.

He didn’t let himself dwell on his missed opportunities anymore. Here was his opportunity now, right under him, holding him close.

He began kissing at your neck, and that seemed to get rid of your amusement entirely, something carnal beginning to take over. His mouth went up from your neck to your jaw, finding his way to your lips again.

He slid his tongue in when he felt your mouth part slightly, and you met him with yours. As your tongues tasted and entwined, he realized it was the closest he had gotten to being inside you, and he wanted more.

Breaking the kiss, he adjusted himself between your legs, teasing his tip at your entrance. He glanced down at you two about to join, then up at your face. Breathless with anticipation, you gave him a nod of your head, and he pushed himself in, ever so slowly.

You kept your eyes on one another as he thrusted into you with a slow rhythm, a rhythm that would help him savor being in you for the first time. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” He breathed, relishing the feel of your slick heat enveloping him.

The noises that escaped you were maddening, and he was beginning to lose himself. But he didn’t want to lose himself, he wanted to be attentive to everything you did as you clung to him, naked in his arms. But when you arched your back and your breasts pressed hard against his bare chest, the control was fraying at the seams.

His thrusts into you came harder and faster, and your hold on him tightened, nails digging into his back. It felt as if you two were more alive than you ever had been. Being intimate with someone was one thing, but being intimate with someone you were in love with brought you to a whole other level.

Multiple times that night, you had gone over the edge together. Tasting, touching, gasping, and sighing.

-

Both of you sweaty, sore, and satisfied, Garreth had you tucked under his arm, looking up at the ceiling, completely serene. “Back at J. Pippin’s,” He began, his voice raspy. “You said you wanted to tell me something.”

You sat up a bit to look at him, he kept a hand on your back. “When I went around Hogsmeade, I stopped at Brood & Peck.” 

You sat up a bit more and Garreth sat up with you, beyond curious at what you were going to tell him. 

“I got a job there.”

Garreth’s eyes widened. “You did?” He had been too swept up in your confession and being with you, he hadn’t even thought about where you two would take things from there. But it seemed you were already a few steps ahead anyway, just like you always had been. 

He shifted closer and pulled you onto his lap so you were straddling him. “But what about your magizoology career? Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled but… are you sure this is what you want?” He asked looking up at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t want to fight anymore.” You sighed. “I don’t want to live on the road for years to come. I just want to stay in one place and live my life.”

Garreth loved the sound of that. Even if you hadn’t decided to do this to be with him, he would have been ecstatic just to know you were leaving your dangerous lifestyle. He didn’t have to worry constantly about you getting killed anymore.

“Give me a few days and I’ll find my own place. Promise.”

“About that.” His hand went up through your hair and he pulled your head back towards his. “I wasn’t really planning on you leaving.”

-

Garreth was a nervous wreck. When the third potion that day had slipped through his fingers and shattered on the floor, he knew he needed to step out and take a breath of fresh air. 

He went out back and reached for the ring that was burning a hole in his pocket. When he had bought it, he had been more sure than anything you would say yes. But now that the time was approaching when he would ask you, doubts began to swirl.

Would it be too soon? Sure you had known each other and been close for years, but you had only been seeing each other for a few weeks. Granted, those past few weeks had been some of the best of his life. What if he proposed and you weren’t ready like he was? What if his eagerness to marry you would scare you off and you’d want to leave him and…

Garreth shook his head, taking another deep breath. His overthinking caused him to miss out on so much with you already, he couldn’t let it stop him again.

He took his time closing up the shop that day, he was still fidgety and wanted to get it together at least somewhat for when he went to meet you. Closing had always felt like it dragged on and on, but that night it seemed to speed by.

He went down to Brood & Peck and stepped through the door. You were looking over a map with Ellie Peck and discussing who knows what, probably another home relocation area for the beasts. Garreth couldn’t seem to pay attention, too in his own head still.

You glanced up at him and smiled, mouthing one moment. He smiled back and gave a little nod of his head, praying you would take your time. Merlin knew he needed every second you’d give him.

Finishing up, you grabbed your coat and waved goodnight to Ellie. You met Garreth and took his arm as you walked up the path to your home. You shot each other little smirks as you trekked along.

You sighed in exhaustion and rested your head against his shoulder. “Long day for you too?”

“Hmm? Oh er - yes. Long day.”

“More than anything I want to fall asleep, but I need to bathe first. The stables were a mess today.”

“That’s good to hear.” 

You huffed an amused breath through your nose and looked up at his face. He was staring ahead, seemingly off in his own world. “I think it was so bad I might quit and go back to my old job. Hope you don’t mind, I’ll be sure to write you.”

“Mmhm.”

“Sebastian Sallow showed up today and confessed his love for me again.”

“Mmhm - Wait what?!” He snapped his head to face you with wide eyes, but then relaxed when you started to cackle. “Not funny.” He grumbled.

“It was a little funny.” You gave his arm a loving squeeze. “What’s got you so distracted?”

He swallowed thickly and stopped walking. You stopped walking with him and raised a brow at him. “Should I be worried?” You teased.

He decided he just needed to get this over with or he was going to be a nauseated mess for the time being. He took a step back from you and went down on one knee.

At first, you thought he dropped something on the ground, then it hit you when he reached into his back pocket and took out a ring.

He said your name and looked up at you with tortured eyes, your lips parted slightly in shock. “I - I was going to make a special dinner tonight and ask you then but I think I’d burn the house down cooking I’m so nervous.” He swallowed thickly, glancing down at the ring and then back up at you. “I can’t remember exactly what I planned to say. But it was along the lines of me having been mad for you since we were kids, and how I want to be mad for you the rest of my life.”

Tears pricked at your eyes and your chest was nothing but a fluttery mess. “Yes.” You breathed, getting on your knees with him. 

An elated smile tugged at the corner of Garreth’s lips. “Yes? I - I had more I was going to say though - but… Yes?”

You nodded your head vigorously and the two of you couldn’t help but laugh. He put the ring on your finger and you grabbed for each other, kissing one another wherever you could get your lips on.

-

It had already been a month now that you and Garreth were together. He couldn’t believe how the days flew by being with you. But he shouldn’t be surprised. Every day consisted of him waking up to you in the morning, getting up and going to a job where he was surrounded by potions, walking down to meet you at Brood & Peck when he was done, then finishing it off by being buried deep inside you throughout the night.

Sure, you two may have lost out on some hours of sleep. But one could argue that you two taking the time to wear yourselves out could get you a deeper, more effective sleep. It was a running joke between the two of you, and neither of you were sure it was true. But you were both happy, and that was all that mattered.

With a smile on his face he couldn’t seem to shake, Garreth took the time to restock shelves at work. The doorbell rang when someone came in, he recited his usual line with the peppiness that had a hold on him this past month.

“Welcome to J. Pippin’s.” He turned towards the customer. “Let me know if -” He stopped cold in his greeting seeing it was Victoria Willowsmith, an ingredients delivery girl he had been seeing off and on before you came back. “Afternoon, Victoria.” He began as casually as he could, inwardly praying she just wanted to drop off ingredients and leave. “Got ingredients for me?” He put on a polite smile.

She looked uneasy as she walked towards him, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. “Um… not today.”

He absently took out a rag and began polishing a nearby potion vial. “Then what can I do for you?” Something was off, he could feel it. 

“I need to speak with you.”

-

When Garreth arrived to meet you outside of Brood & Peck, you threw yourself into his arms as you always did. “Mmm, I’m ready to head home.”

He kept quiet as he wrapped his arms back around you, but you noticed his hold wasn’t nearly as tight on you as it normally was. You stepped back slightly, looking over his features and noticing he wasn’t meeting your gaze.

“What’s wrong?” You asked in concern, placing a hand on his cheek.

He took a deep breath and took your hand down from his face, stroking his thumb over your skin as the anxiety built up sickeningly at what he was about to tell you. “Walk with me.”

You remained silent as he guided you away from Hogsmeade, down the stone path to a place more isolated.

Garreth sat the two of you on a nearby bench as the sun began to set. He held your left hand in both of his, looking at the ring on your finger. He couldn’t stand the thought of it ever coming off.

The way he was acting brought on a sense of trouble. But you willed yourself to keep quiet, and let him say what he needed to say. As he held your hand, you looked out into the sunset, hoping the sight would help keep you calm.

“You’re everything to me. I hope you know that.” Garreth began, but it only made all of this more eerie. When you didn’t say anything in response, he knew he had to just tell you, not drag this on any longer. “Before you came back, I was seeing this girl off and on. Nothing serious. But she’s come back and told me that she’s -” He ran a shaky hand through his hair and he felt you tense up. “- told me she’s pregnant with my child.”

Your stomach went into agonizing knots as you continued looking out into the sunset. You wanted to throw up, you wanted to scream, you wanted to cry. But after a moment, all those intense feelings turned into something numb. 

“Please say something.” Garreth pleaded, finally looking at you then, unable to read your expression. “Shout at me. Anything. I just need you to say something.” 

You met his gaze and gave him the smallest of smiles. “You’re going to be a dad.”

Something in him broke. He had wanted you to say those words to him one day, but not under circumstances like this. He sighed your name as you stood up and slipped your hand from his. 

He stood with you and tried to search your eyes, but you gave him nothing.

“I uh -” You cleared your throat, trying to hide the sadness that constricted it. “I need to be alone at the house for a bit if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.” He took a step towards you, but you took a step back, and he wanted to die. 

Without another word, he watched your form walk away. 

He slumped back down on the bench until the sun had completely set. Then he headed over to Hog’s Head. Three Broomsticks felt a little too upbeat for such a night.

After a few drinks he decided it was time to face you again at home. Taking one last sip of liquid courage, he made his way out. 

The first thing he noticed approaching the house was that none of the lights were on. 

“No…” 

He burst through the door and called your name in a panic, striding through the house and searching every room for you. “No no no.” But you were gone, and so were your things. There wasn’t a trace of you anywhere, not even a note.

Garreth fell to his knees, the pain hitting him all at once. He had never felt such an ache in his chest, as if a piece of him was gone, ripped right from him.

-

“Let’s see your list, bug.” Garreth said to his little one as he stepped out the door with her. The ecstatic, freckled, redheaded girl handed him the parchment that listed everything she needed for her first year at Hogwarts and he looked it over.

“Merlin’s beard! I don’t think I had this many books when I attended.” He teased, ruffling her hair.

“Dad.” Matilda grumbled, swatting him away and fixing her curly locks before they got into town. He and Victoria had agreed to name her after his aunt after she passed. She may have been tough on him growing up, but she had done so much for him, it only felt right.

The two of them went up and down Hogsmeade, getting everything she needed. Thankfully, they could save a bit on everything related to potions class. Ever since he took over for Parry Pippin, they had more potion equipment and ingredients to last a lifetime, even for him. Too bad Matilda didn’t seem to share the same passion for it as him. Her attention always seemed to lie in magical beasts, of course. Try as he might to shift her interests all these years, it was no use. 

He saved the most exciting part for last, getting Matilda her wand. As they walked on to Ollivanders, he caught sight of that day’s Daily Prophet on the news stand they passed. His jaw tensed when he saw you were on the cover yet again. Seems he saw you there several times a year. 

The first time he ever saw you on the cover, he had to do a double take. His legs turned to jelly and he immediately bought the first copy he laid eyes on. He would sneak off to stare at your portrait on the paper for months, maybe even over the course of a year truth be told. But the more he saw you grace the cover over the years, he’d eventually grown indifferent to it. It did start to get old after more than a decade of it happening.

What could you have accomplished this time? Perhaps you took down another magical beast fighting ring, discovered another abandoned dragon’s nest still full of eggs, or maybe even became the first ever human leader of a mongrel pack! Garreth didn’t care. All he needed was that little reassurance you were still alive and well and he could move on with his day.

He hoped Matilda didn’t catch it. Much to his chagrin, she was one of your biggest fans. He always… always had to buy the paper for her when you were on it. When he heard her gasp, he squeezed his eyes shut briefly in defeat. Of course she caught it.

“Dad! Can I have some galleons for -”

“Here, love.” He was already reaching into his pocket and handing her some money. He had never been one to say no to her. She gratefully (he liked to think) swiped it from him and took off towards the news stand. 

“Come right back to Ollivanders.” He called, waiting back and not wanting to chance reading over the headline.

-

You stepped out to greet your students for your first beasts class. Who would have thought, even after the career you’ve had, you’d still get nervous? 

As you looked out to all the little first years, you were surprised to see them all silent, attentively waiting to hear what you said next. “Well… Hello, everyone. Today, I say we jump into things and start with basic caretaking for each beast here we have in the stables. All we’ll need is a brush and some feed. But before we begin, any questions?”

Hands shot up, way too many hands. “Oh! Ah - yes you?” 

“Is it true you took down Bartley Barrin’s graphorn fighting ring?!” A curly haired student that reminded you all too well of Lucan Brattleby asked in amazement.

You raised your brows, not sure if it would be appropriate to answer such questions, especially to your first year class. “Ah, right. We can discuss such things later, I suppose. Outside of class hours. Now, any questions on basic caretaking?”

All the hands slowly went down except for one, enthusiastic, redheaded girl’s. She was reaching her hand up in the air so high you were worried she’d pull a muscle if you didn’t call on her. 

“Yes?” 

“Should we grab extra feed for the nifflers so they can stow it away for later?” 

A smile tugged at your lips. “No need. They’ll get fed multiple times a day just like the other beasts.”

The girl gave a firm nod of her head as if saying got it. Then her eyes widened and she shot her hand up again. 

“Go on.” You were trying to bite back your delighted smile. You’ve only had an enthusiastic student for a few minutes and it was already making you giddy. Please let there be more like her.

“Can we use the same brush on all the beasts? Or do we need to grab different sizes?”

“You can certainly use the same brush on all of them, er - What’s your name, dear?”

“Matilda Weasley.” She answered with a gap toothed smile.

You kept a straight face as your insides constricted a bit and you nodded your head. This wasn’t the first Weasley you had encountered since you arrived back at Hogwarts, it was probably the seventh truth be told. Yet you couldn’t stop your mind from reeling.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Miss Weasley. I hope you keep this enthusiasm even after you see how grumpy kneazles can be.” You clapped your hands together. “All right then! Everyone grab a brush and some feed and we’ll head over to the stables.”

-

“Dad!” Matilda burst through the door of J. Pippin’s Potions and ran up to Garreth.

He met her with open arms. “There’s my girl. Sporting the Gryffindor robes too, I see.” He looked at her proudly. But then he furrowed his brows and checked his pocket watch. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at dinner?”

“I ate fast.” She said dismissively. “I wanted to ask if I could have some money to go to Brood & Peck to get my own beasts brush!”

Garreth sighed. “Don’t they have brushes you can use for class, bug?” 

“They do, but they lock them away when class isn’t in session. Professor Y/N said I could visit the beasts whenever I wanted in my spare time to -”

“Professor who?” 

“Y/N, the beasts professor. Didn’t you read the paper?! Now, as long as I have my own brush, I can stop by even when no one’s able to take out the class brushes from storage so…”

Garreth let Matilda go on as the room started to spin. Shakily, he reached into his back pocket and grabbed some galleons for her. Probably giving her too much for what she wanted at Brood & Peck. But he couldn’t seem to think straight at the moment, and he didn’t need Matilda around to see her dad possibly faint.

“Thank you!” She sang, sprinting out the door.

Garreth leaned himself back against the counter, trying to stay steady. He rubbed at his chest in hopes it would help his heart rate go down. The last he saw you was 12 years ago, when you walked away from him. Not a letter, not a glimpse of you outside the Daily Prophet since. 

The Daily Prophet.

Garreth grabbed his coat and keys. Switching the open sign to closed, he locked up and made his way home.

He was greeted by Victoria when he stepped through the door. "What are you doing home so early?" She called from the kitchen.

"Matilda needed something from her room." He threw out as he headed there.

Throwing open her door, his eyes roamed the room quickly in search of the Daily Prophet he had gotten her. He spotted it on her dresser and made a beeline for it.

"Famed Magizoologist Takes Up Teaching…"

He looked over the article explaining your move to becoming the next beasts professor for Hogwarts and the bustling nerves within him wouldn’t let him stay still. You’re here… you’re just down the road. 

His body seemed to be moving without thinking. He dropped the paper to the ground and made his way out, headed down the road to Hogwarts.

-

“All right, that's enough questions for today I think.” You chuckled awkwardly, and the several students that had been asking you endless questions about your poacher hunter days whined.

“I know I know. Now I think it’s best you all be off before curfew anyway. I won’t be so interesting when I have to give you detentions, will I?” You guided the students out of your office. 

Once you shut the door behind them and were finally alone, you let out an exhausted sigh. Sure, you were grateful you didn’t have difficulty getting students to listen to you, but you couldn’t have predicted how exhausting their questions would become. 

Your “career” wasn’t something you looked back on fondly. You had done a lot of things you couldn’t take back, things you lost sleep over. But pursuing it was all you had.

As you turned to get ready for bed, a knock sounded at your door, tensing you up. You took a deep breath to relax and prepped yourself up a bit. No need to get a reputation as a scowling, moody professor quite yet. 

Turning on your heel, you went back to the door. “It’s almost curfew.” You called as you opened the door. “You should -” 

Words seemed to escape you, which probably didn’t matter much since your voice did as well. Locking eyes with the green ones before you seemed to have the same effect as petrificus totalus. 

Garreth was just as frozen in place as you. He didn’t have a plan for when he faced you again, all he had been set on doing was seeing you in person before him. He had walked up and down the road from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade until the sky went dark. Even after all that time, even after 12 years, he still had no idea what he’d say to you.

After a few moments of silence and the both of you trying to regain composure, you swallowed thickly. “Mr. Weasley.” You nodded your head in some sort of greeting, at least that’s what you thought your head did.

“Professor.” He attempted to greet back. “May I… May I come in?”

Nodding your head, you moved to the side to let him through. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he stepped inside. He needed to or else he’d be a fidgety, thumb twiddling mess.

You closed the door and the both of you stood there in silence for a moment, not sure where to begin in starting a conversation with a history such as yours. “Would you like a drink?” You offered. 

“Yes. Thank you.” He answered, looking around your office and living quarters. Any minute now, he’d be able to look your way again. Any minute now…

You went to grab the bottle given to you as a welcome gift when you first arrived to teach at Hogwarts. You were planning on saving it for a special occasion, and you couldn’t think of anything that could top what was happening then.

Pouring for the both of you, you grabbed the glasses and walked over to hand one to him. He gave a polite, if not awkward, smile as he took it from you. Both of you downed it a bit fast. Your frantic nerves helping you push passed the dreadful taste. 

“Another?” You asked.

“Please.” You gladly took the glass from him again and he ran a shaky hand through his hair. 

You returned with your refilled glasses, and he took his from you, just as appreciative as the first time.

“What brings you here?” You managed to begin.

He looked down at his glass, twirling the liquid around in his hand. “I needed to see you.” He decided to confess.

Your breath hitched and your heart rate picked up. The only response you could manage was a nod of your head and an absent sip of your drink. 

He looked up and met your gaze. “Was this stupid of me?” 

You shook your head. “No.”

He gave the smallest smile and looked back down at his glass.

“I think I met about ten different Weasleys today.” You casually began with a chuckle, the warmth in your cheeks putting you a bit at ease. “By chance were any of them yours?”

He let out an amused breath through his nose. “My little Matilda just started.”

“Ah, so it was Matilda. I had a suspicion. She’s delightful to have as a student just so you know.”

Garreth began to feel a bit more at ease now too. “I bet you it’s only because you have her for beasts class. Any other subject, you might have struggled to keep her attention.”

You nodded your head. “I may have gotten the sense she loved magical beasts. Just a little though.” You quipped.

Garreth shook his head. “Already asked me for her own beasts brush. I tried to remind her the school had some she could use, but she’s a silver tongue that one.”

You laughed at him then. The thought of Garreth Weasley being such a sucker for his little girl was too sweet not to smile at.

“What?” He asked, an amused smile of his own plastered on his face.

“Look at you, Gar. A proper dad.”

His chest fluttered at you calling him that again, but he shoved it back. “In all its glory.” He took another sip of his drink when his emotions began to swirl. In a perfect world, he would have had children with you. You would have been Matilda’s mother. But he shouldn’t dwell on impossible things like that, he had done enough of that already.

“What are you up to these days?” You asked.

Garreth gave a shrug. “A lot of the same really. Parry Pippin gave me his shop.”

Your eyes widened. “He did? That’s wonderful, Gar!”

There you went, calling him Gar again so effortlessly, blissfully unaware of what it did to him. He took another sip. “Not too bad, yeah? Never felt the need to change the name, thought it worked fine as is.”

“Outgrew ‘Garreth’s Subterranean Concoctions’, did you?”

He grunted and rolled his eyes in response, taking another sip of his drink. But he had to admit, at least to himself, he was a little impressed you remembered. “I decided it was, in fact, too obtuse. But I’d rather talk about you and your adventures. Think I’ve seen you in the Daily Prophet once or twice.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Merlin, don’t remind me. Those journalists are pests. Won’t leave me alone.”

“Can’t really blame them. You’re probably the most interesting magizoologist they’ve encountered. You’re famous now.”

You rubbed at the back of your neck. “I wasn’t trying to be. I think the only plus side is my students seem to be very keen on what I have to say in class.”

“My Matilda’s going to talk your ear off. I hope you’re prepared.”

You smiled again, a warm feeling coming over you. You always knew Garreth would be a doting father. As much as you wanted him to have been the father of your children once upon a time, you couldn’t be mad with where things ended up. He clearly adored his little girl.

“I think you’re underestimating how much I’ll appreciate her enthusiasm.”

“Oh.” He guffawed with a shake of his head. “I don’t think I am.” Another sip. When he realized he finished the last of his drink, he took out his pocket watch and cursed under his breath. “I apologize, I shouldn’t have come to see you so late.”

You waved him off and chugged the last of your drink, going up and taking his glass from him. “You, Mr. Weasley, are welcome any time.” You said as you went to put away the glasses in your kitchen.

He rubbed a hand down his face as you walked him to the door. “Thank you… for tonight. Really.”

You met his serious stare and smiled at him. “Of course, Garreth.” 

He smiled back, but it had a hint of sadness to it. Call me Gar one more time. Just once more. 

“Goodnight.” He opened the door and went into the night air, giving you a small wave over his shoulder.

“Goodnight.” You called and waved back, then shut the door. You took a deep breath and released it, relieved that your reunion had gone as well as it had. Maybe you could do this. Maybe you could be friends with him again.

Another knock at the door tore you from your hopeful thoughts. You didn’t hesitate to open it back up. “Forget somethi -”

“What’s on your neck?” 

You stilled, you had completely forgotten you had it on. You had worn it for over a decade, it basically felt like a part of you now. If you had known he was coming you would have hidden it for the time being, but it hadn’t even crossed your mind until he asked you about it just then.

You were too flustered to answer, and Garreth walked up until he was toe to toe with you. Not taking his eyes off yours, he reached a delicate finger up to tug at the necklace you were wearing. He pulled it up just enough so that it wasn't covered by your shirt anymore. His eyes dropped to what was on it, and he lost all sense of reason. It was the engagement ring he got you. He thought he was seeing things when he caught the briefest glimpse earlier, but he had to be sure. He had to. And now that he was, he knew he was about to do something really stupid.

He looked back up to your eyes, his hand shifted from holding the necklace to cupping your neck, and he slowly leaned down towards you. “You need to tell me to stop.”

You shook your head, your breathing growing heavy. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to close the distance between you so badly, but not like this, not when he had a wife at home. “Go home, Garreth.” You somehow got yourself to whisper, his lips just a breath away from yours.

He stopped. “Alright.” He whispered back and nodded, forcing himself to come to his senses. He kept his eyes on yours as he released you and walked backwards. Once he was far enough, he turned on his heel and strode up the path back to Hogsmeade.

-

The next day, Garreth headed down to Hogwarts with a crate of overstocked potion ingredients. He remembered how you always asked him for potions back in your school days, surely giving the excess stock to you would be better than tossing it out. Of course, that was, without question, the only reason he was heading to Hogwarts.

He walked along the path towards the beasts class stables, carrying the crate over one shoulder, and he spotted you talking to a student. He walked a bit slower so he could watch you. 

You knelt down to the young student’s level and explained something to him. The child was cradling a puffskein in his arms, and you were gesturing to different points on the creature while you spoke. Seeing you interact so well with kids did something to Garreth’s insides. 

You glanced in his direction and his throat went dry. You turned back to the student and stood, finishing up your lesson. The student handed you the puffskein and you waved goodbye as he ran off.

You turned towards him, squinting slightly with the sun in your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Can I help you, Mr. Weasley?”

He pointed up at the crate on his shoulder. “Was wondering if you wanted some spare ingredients.” He called back.

“I’ll take whatever you can give me. One moment.” You turned to put the puffskein back in the stable.

Garreth shifted on his feet as he waited for you. He tried to keep his gaze on you subtle as you bent over to put down the puffskein and lock up the gate. But once you faced him fully and walked towards him, he eyed you with undivided attention. Merlin, you’re stunning.

“Let me get the door.” You said as you passed him.

He followed close, doing everything he could to not look at your backside in those pants. With a click of your key in the slot, you pushed open the door.

He stepped in and glanced back at you. “Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

Garreth went and placed the crate on your desk, taking glances around your hut, getting a scope of the place. Then he went back up to you, bringing himself toe to toe again, just as close as the night before. “I’m off then.”

You took in his freckles for a moment. Surely it was harmless to admire from afar, right? “You’re welcome any time, Mr. Weasley.” You decided to remind him.

He took the briefest glance at your neck, catching you still wearing the necklace with your ring. “Then I’ll be back tomorrow, Professor.” With that, he took his leave.

-

It had become a daily occurrence for Garreth, walking down to Hogwarts with spare ingredients from the shop. It was the highlight of his day every time. Just getting to be near you and feel that thick as honey tension between you, it was intoxicating. 

It had gone on for weeks, and the excitement hadn’t dissipated in the slightest. If anything, it only grew by the day.

His newfound routine had been thrown off when there was a shortage of wiggenweld potions across the valley. He had been the only shop to have stock and he wasn’t able to leave until every last customer was helped. 

As soon as everyone had cleared out, he rushed to close up. Throwing the crate with ingredients over his shoulder, he picked up the pace to make it down to you before Hogwarts’ curfew.

He didn’t expect to walk down and see you waiting on the steps of your hut.

His footsteps slowed to a stop as you stood and eyed him. “You're late.” You stated as you went to get the door.

“Busy day.” He replied as he came up behind you and stepped inside. Walking past you, he went to your desk as he usually did, but stopped and turned when he heard you close the door and lock it.

He met your gaze as you took determined steps towards him. “Put it down.”

Garreth recognized that look in your eye, even if it had been over a decade since he’d seen it. He dropped the crate to the ground, the wood breaking and the ingredients scattering across the floor. He closed the distance between you two, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling your lips to his.

Your hands reached up and gripped the fabric of his shirt, holding him against you just as you had dreamed to these past 12 years. 

The two of you licked and bit and sucked at each other's lips in an attempt to fill this insatiable need between you, gasps and sighs escaping. Garreth gripped at your thighs, picking you up and hoisting your legs around him. He carried you to your desk, the two of you urgently shoving off everything that covered it as he sat you on top of it. 

With hurried hands, you went for each others’ pants, unbuttoning and pulling down the fabric that separated you both. As soon as he had access, his tip was at your entrance. You shifted so he could enter you, moans coming from both of you as he did.

His thrusts were hard and spaced out as soon as he was in you again. He couldn’t let himself go fast. No, he needed to savor every second of this. The two of you kept your eyes locked on one another as he pounded into you. 

When your head began to fall back, he cupped your face, keeping you upright. “Keep looking at me.”

Your hands shot to the back of his head and held tight to his locks as he thrusted into you. He crashed his lips back onto yours, your tongues battling for dominance, and his release was coming fast. 

He reached up for the top of your shirt, tearing the top few buttons open, breaking them off and sending them flying. He broke your kiss and looked down at your necklace, the ring in full view before him. Grunts escaped him as his thrusts came faster and he plunged into you until completion.   

Both of you breathing hard, you remained holding one another. He rested his head on your shoulder as he caught his breath. You seemed to come out of the blissful haze before he did, but when you shifted to get up he held you in place. 

“No.” He said. “No, please. Can we stay like this a little longer?”

The desperation in his voice matched the desperation you felt. But this was a mistake, you shouldn’t have initiated as you had. You should have let him drop off the ingredients and go. But you shut the door and locked the both of you in, selfishly taking him as if he were still yours. 

“I’m sorry.” You breathed as you shifted away from him and off the desk. “I shouldn’t have… Forgive me, this is all my fault.” Your voice was strained as you went to grab your discarded pants. 

Garreth pulled up his own pants as well, numbly looking at the wall before him. He wanted your warmth against him again, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to get his fill of it. “I’m just as much to blame.”

“I think -” You took a shaky breath and went for the door when you were both clothed again. “I think I’m fine on ingredients. Thank you for everything.”

Garreth’s face went stoic, and he took his leave without looking at you. “You’re welcome.”

-

You and Garreth kept your distance from each other throughout the following months. But he still kept an eye out for you throughout Hogsmeade. He allowed himself to look, but the temptation to touch never faded.

After a rather taxing day at the shop he decided to pop into Three Broomsticks, he tensed when he saw you at a table in the back talking with Brood & Peck’s new worker. He had seen the fellow around and heard some things about him. He had quite the adventurous background, just like you. 

Garreth tried to keep the scowl off his face as he enjoyed a drink or two… or three.

Throughout the night, Garreth spoke amicably with everyone seated next to him at the bar. He’d sip at his drink as he took casual glances your way. You had been talking with that blockhead all night, smiling at him, acting smitten. He hid it well, but it was sending him up the wall.

He caught that you finally said goodbye to the man and took your leave. He downed the last of his drink and left after you. He could probably blame it on the alcohol in his system, but in truth, it was just how crazy you made him. 

Coming up behind you, he grabbed your arm and pulled you into a dark, nearby alleyway. 

“Hey! Garreth, what in Merlin’s name are you doing?" You took rapid glances around to make sure no one could see you two.

Pinning you between him and the wall, he pressed himself against you. You were taken aback, but immediately compliant. You looked up at him as he put a firm hold on your neck, feeling the chain of your necklace under his fingers. 

A thrilling sensation coursed through you and you were eager to see what he would do next, ignoring all the screaming voices in your head to not let it go any further. 

He leaned down and bit at your bottom lip, then placed his forehead against yours. “Trying to replace me?”

You didn’t respond, only looked into his darkened eyes with yours as your breathing picked up. Keeping his hand on your throat, he slid his free hand down the front of your pants, immediately going for your folds. 

“Go ahead. Just try.” He moved his fingers against your slit and greedily took your lips with his.

You kissed him back with just as much hunger, but you got yourself to turn away and push feebly at his chest. “Garreth… We can’t -” A whimper escaped you at his touch, and he plunged his first finger into you.

“I had to watch you with him all night.” He spoke in a low tone next to your ear. 

You bit your lip and your hands slid up from his chest to grip his shoulders. He took that as his chance to slip another finger in.

“Does he know what’s around your neck?” His fingers moved faster. “Hm?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wanting to slap him, but also wanting him to continue taking you as he was.

“Fuck, I like the way you’re looking at me.” He breathed. He had never taken control like this before, and it was a power trip he never knew he wanted to experience. 

Your breathing was becoming shallow as he kept up his movements. “Don’t stop.” You panted in his ear as you threw your arms around him, holding him even closer.

“I’ll stop when I want to stop.”

The combination of his rough fingers and the way he was speaking had you delirious, the fire in your abdomen now an inferno. You were a furnace completely at his mercy and it was everything.

When your heavy breathing melted into moans, Garreth shifted back a bit, moving the hand that was on your throat and placing it over your mouth. “Keep fucking quiet.” He commanded in a hushed tone. But his fingers moved faster within you, almost challenging himself to get you to scream out.

He glanced down at his hand in your pants then back up to your face, and caught your half-lidded, pleasure filled eyes. His knees nearly buckled at the sight, but he stood strong. He could tell you were close, and more than anything he wanted to get you there, be the only person who ever did for the rest of your lives.

Your eyes began to roll into the back of your head and he removed his hand from your mouth, capturing your lips with his. He was going to swallow every cry and mewl he got out of you.

When your walls stopped contracting over his fingers, he slowly slid them out of you. His hands went to your hips and he rested his forehead against yours. As you caught your breath, the two of you had left your hate-fuck filled state and somehow shifted to something else.

“Tell me you still love me.” He exhaled, trying to stay steady. “Tell me you still love me like I love you.”

You took in his freckles with him being this close, just like you had always done. “Of course I still love you. You’re all I have left.”

His throat constricted. “Then why did you leave?”

Your arms snaked around his shoulders. “Garreth…”

“You didn’t even leave a note.” He shook his head slightly, the tears began to sting at his eyes. “You left me with nothing. We could have figured something out. We could have -”

You pulled his head down to your shoulder, cradling him there. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tight to him.

“Please just… tell me why you left without giving me a chance. I know I didn’t deserve it. I know that. But I have to know what was going through your head.”

You let out a shaky breath, keeping your own tears at bay. “There wasn’t a place for me there.”

He tightened his hold on you and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“It didn’t feel like my home anymore. That house was for you and your family.”

“You were my family.” He argued against your neck. “We were going to get married.”

“But we weren’t yet. And you had a baby on the way, Garreth.” You sighed. “I thought about coming back so many times. I did once.”

Garreth pulled back slightly, furrowing his brows and meeting your eyes. “When?”

“About a year after I left.” You admitted. “Your aunt had passed and I wanted to visit her grave. Told myself I was going to let you go and give you back the ring while I was at it. Then I saw you sitting outside your house holding little Matilda.” You smiled a bit thinking back on it. “You looked tired, but so happy. I felt like I’d only intrude, so I left.”

Garreth thought about it, and he didn’t know what he’d do if you decided to meet with him. He had come to terms with it all by then, marrying Victoria, having Matilda, losing you. He might have been able to stand tall. But then again, he went mad just seeing your picture in the Daily Prophet for the first time.

“And the ring? After all this time?”

You shook your head. “I can’t seem to let you go.”

You held each other in the alley like lovesick teenagers who snuck out in the night. He kissed you then, but without the aggression or urgency. For the first time since he’d had you in his arms again, his lips were tender on yours.

-

Just like it had when you were seeing each other over a decade ago, time seemed to fly by. Months had passed since he began sneaking away to see you, taking a quick floo to your hut and locking yourselves away for a few stolen moments. Moments where you two would be entwined. He’d be on top of you, under you, any position he could manage while he was inside you. Sometimes you’d make love, sometimes you’d fuck. It was all perfect to him. 

That potions shop keeper is having an affair with the beasts professor at Hogwarts. Garreth imagined people around Hogsmeade would say. But your meetups were the best kept secret he had ever had. No one ever suspected a thing.

Sure it was a bit thrilling to have secrets, but all that mattered was that he had you again. He couldn’t ask for anything more.

Except for maybe a divorce. He felt awful running around on Victoria as he was. She was a fine wife, a fine mother. But he hadn’t felt that spark of life he always had with you. The moment he saw you standing in person before him again, he knew his marriage was over. He had nothing more to offer her.

It had weighed heavily on Garreth. Separating wouldn’t exactly be easy to do legally, or cheap. But he’d push through, whatever it took to get the life he had been aching for since the moment you left. 

He hadn’t touched Victoria since you came back. She had tried, and he’d been dismissive. Even spending a good amount of his nights sleeping at the shop. She had sensed his distance easily, and eventually gave up on trying. He hoped she found a lover too.

He’d go easy on Matilda and break the news to her when the time came. He reasoned her being away at Hogwarts a majority of the year now would give her enough space from it all. There was never a good time for parents to separate, only the sooner the better at this point.

-

Matilda hadn’t attended beasts class that day. You would assume she was out sick, but something felt off. Every time she was sick she would still make her way to beasts class, and you’d always have to tell her she could catch up after hours and to go get some rest. But she hadn’t even shown up that day, and it set all your alarm bells off.

“You’re not in trouble, I promise you.” You assured the student you overheard mentioning her name. “Just tell me where she said she’d be.”

“W - Well, she mentioned a place called Henrietta’s Hideout? Hideaway? Said she needed to find a runaway niffler.”

Your blood had gone cold. Henrietta’s Hideaway was beyond dangerous for anyone, let alone a child. It had been riddled with traps and dark wizards when you and Garreth went exploring there, when you were particularly young and stupid. “Are you sure?”

The student nodded his head, clearly nervous. 

You turned on your heel, immediately heading to the nearest floo.

-

Matilda felt in her gut coming to Henrietta’s Hideaway would be dangerous, but she ignored that feeling and ventured forth anyway. The thought of leaving Agnes Coffey’s pet niffler to roam here and get killed made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t sit by and let it be. She couldn’t.

She had managed to find the niffler, Rococo, but getting back out alive was starting to feel impossible. There were traps everywhere, and she didn’t know how to cast disillusionment on anything else other than herself. Rococo would give her away to the surrounding dark wizards for certain.

As she stood there, hiding herself and cradling the niffler in her arms, her hope slipped away every time she peeked around the corner. Each time it seemed like the amount of dark wizards lurking around went up. She let herself panic, but she didn’t let herself cry.

She startled when she started to hear spell blasts. Hearing the alarm in the dark wizards’ voices as they started casting spells back, Matilda held tight to the niffler and slid down the wall she was leaning against. She was finally starting to feel like the child she was. 

She needed to get out of there, she needed her father. He could save her, he always had. She squeezed her eyes shut and closed out the world around her, the tears started to come then.

Because her fear had taken over, she didn’t even notice when everything went quiet. She continued to hold tight to the whining niffler and keep her eyes closed when you approached.

“Matilda? Matilda, it’s me. Everything’s alright now. Come with me, dear.” You knelt to her level and spoke in a hushed tone. 

She slowly looked up hearing your voice, her eyes widening. Letting herself sob then, she threw an arm around you while still holding tight to the niffler. 

She threw you off balance slightly but you kept upright and held her back. “I got you.” You soothed and slowly brought both of you to your feet. “Let’s get going.” You pulled back, keeping a hold on her shoulders. You looked into her eyes, trying to get her steady again. “I need that Gryffindor bravery, alright?” You gave her a reassuring smile.

She wiped at her eyes quickly and gave you a firm nod. “A - Alright.”

The two of you moved forward out of Henrietta’s Hideaway. You tried to remember what the trap mechanisms looked like when you were there back in your school days. Dark Wizards you could handle. Nearly invisible traps? Those could sneak up on anyone.

You and Matilda caught sight of the entrance and she was immediately filled with optimism and relief. “There!” She shouted and began sprinting. 

“Matilda, slow down!” You called, keeping up with her as best you could.

You caught it at the last second. The tile Matilda stepped on made a clicking sound, and sank just slightly under the pressure of her foot.

“Matilda!” You shouted and shoved her out of the way. You weren’t sure what the trap being set off would do, but something moved into your abdomen, a strong pressure hitting you immediately. It didn’t hurt at first, but it had a solid hold on you. You couldn’t move. Then whatever was in your abdomen slipped out, the blood and the pain started to come. It was a spike, triggered by the plate Matilda had stepped on.

The realization started to kick in then. You did your best to keep your breathing even and not scare Matilda. This was it. This was the misstep that got you, wasn’t it? You could feel it. You weren’t going to be alive after today.

“Matilda.” You began as calmly as you could. “Go… Go get your father. He can help me, he’ll know what to do.” You sat down on the ground, clutching your stomach, slowing the bleeding to buy yourself time. “Watch your step as you go.”

Matilda was scared seeing your wound bleeding as harshly as it was, but she was able to stand strong at your handling of it. You were her hero after all. Of course you could handle something like this, no problem. She nodded her head vigorously and ran out.

You tried to keep your breathing even, last long enough to see Garreth one last time.

-

“Dad!” Matilda burst through the shop door. Garreth caught her panic in an instant and didn’t hesitate to run up to her. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he looked her over quickly, ignoring the niffler in her arms. 

“What is it?! What’s wrong?!” He cupped her cheek when he noticed some of the scrapes on her face. “Let me get a wiggenweld.” He turned to get it but she grabbed his wrist.

“No time! It’s Professor Y/N. I - I was at Henrietta’s Hideaway and she helped get me out of there. She saved me from a trap but she’s hurt, dad. She - She said to get you. Said you’d be able to help.”

Garreth’s eyes widened, nostrils flaring. Henrietta’s Hideaway? “What in Merlin’s name were you doing all the way out there?!” Not waiting for her answer, he ran for the door. “Wiggenweld! Now!” He snapped before he was out of sight and at the nearest floo flame. As soon as he returned with you, he’d give Matilda an earful.

-

Garreth called your name as he carefully stepped into the hideaway. It had been so long since the two of you had explored there. He had no doubt it was still as dangerous as it was back then, the both of you had barely made it out in one piece even with how capable the two of you were.

He heard you cough. He turned your direction and his heart dropped at the sight.

You were sitting on the ground in a pool of blood, back up against a rock, hand clutched over your abdomen attempting to stop the bleeding. Garreth strode up and knelt before you. “We have to get you out of here.” He swallowed thickly once he got a closer look at the wound and noticed the loss of color in your skin. A sickening thought took hold of him. 

Are you dying?

“No, I -” You hissed in pain. “I’m not going to make it out of here, Gar.” 

He had never heard your voice so weak, dread started to set in. No, you’re not dying. You survive everything. You can’t die. “We’ve got to try. I can carry you.”

He wanted to scream when you only shook your head at him. “Be with me.” You reached for his hand.

His nostrils flared, his breathing starting to come out uneven as he tried to shove the panic down. “I’m getting you to St. Mungo’s.” As carefully as he could, he attempted to lift you. But your cries of pain stopped him. He shifted just enough so he was on the ground with you, holding you in his arms, your blood coating his clothes. The helplessness he felt was crippling.

“Tell me what to do.” He pleaded. “You always have a plan. Tell me what I need to do.” Garreth was crumbling, the pieces of him falling too quickly to catch.

You rested your head against his chest and looked up at him as he looked around the cave frantically. “Be with me. Please, Gar.”

He shook his head. “I just got you back.” His voice cracked, his throat constricting. “Please… Please don’t leave me. I can’t do it. I can’t lose you again.”

You weakly reached up and tugged at your necklace. “You never lost me.”

Garreth looked down at the ring he gave you and the tears stung at his eyes, ready to fall. You let go of the necklace and cupped his cheek, looking at him with so much love, he didn’t feel worthy of any of it. 

He reached up and held your hand against his cheek. “You saved my girl.” He whispered, more grateful than you’d ever know.

“You know me. Always have to be the hero.” You quipped, your voice so weak it nearly came out as a wheeze. “I wish we met in first year.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, nodding his head, tears falling.

“It was always you, Gar.”

He shifted you in his arms, holding you tighter. “And it was always you.”

“You and me.” You smiled, your voice getting quieter.

“You and me.”

As you looked up at him and he looked back down at you, you seemed to stop breathing, seemed to go perfectly still. He said your name, but no response. He said it one more time, waiting for something, anything at all. But nothing. 

He pulled you up more against him, resting his cheek against the top of your head, and let the rest of the tears come. 

Come back to me. 

Come back to me. 

Come back to me.

-

The day of your funeral, he’d barely been able to speak, his voice would betray him each time. Nobody expected him to speak much anyway. After all, who was he to you? He wasn’t blood, he wasn’t your husband. At most he was an old friend, as far as everyone knew. No one would ever know what he truly was to you, would they? If he thought he felt loss when you left him all those years ago, it was nothing compared to what he felt then.

You were gone, for good this time. The permanence of it made his chest ache with an unbearable emptiness. It seemed every breath he took, he needed to guide himself through it. In, out. In, out. In, out.

Even after everyone left, he remained with your grave. As he stood there, looking down at your tombstone, he realized this was all he could have with you for the rest of his life. 

He tried to think about your smile, your laugh, picture you there still with him. But as soon as he’d fall into the memory, a little voice in the back of his head reminded him it wasn’t real. Then your laugh in his head went silent, and he’d be brought back to reality in front of your tombstone.

Someone had walked up and looked down at your grave with him. “Seems I’m late.”

Garreth glanced up briefly and saw Sebastian Sallow beside him, looking down uneasily. “Afraid so.” 

He had never liked Sallow. The lad would be fine in Garreth’s eyes if he hadn’t been so hopelessly in love with you back at Hogwarts. He had been sane before you showed up, but as soon as you arrived, something about you drove the poor fool mad. He had to stop him from following you around and begging you to reconsider your rejection too many times to count.

“Merlin, this can’t be real. She was supposed to outlive us all.” He whispered in disbelief. “When was the last time you spoke to her?”

Garreth blinked away the memory, trying to get the image of your bloody, lifeless form in his arms out of his head. “Not long before she passed. You?”

“I’d say about five years ago. Last I saw her, she was walking out my door, breaking my heart once again.”

Garreth wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer, but he asked anyway. “You two…?” 

Sebastian glanced up at him, then looked back down with a shake of his head. “Not really. I mean we tried for a while. But she was never able to love me like I loved her.” Sebastian let out a shaky sigh. “Untameable that one.”

Garreth could only nod his head. That you were.

“I really thought I had a chance after you.” Sebastian huffed humorlessly. “But if it wasn’t going to be you, I don’t think it was going to be anybody.”

Garreth swallowed the lump in his throat and knew it was time to be alone. He gave Sebastian’s shoulder a cordial pat as he passed. “Good seeing you again, Sallow.”

-

Garreth sat before the fire, and let himself wallow in his own whiskey fueled pity. How many times had he let you down throughout knowing each other? How many times had he failed you when you two were right on track to live happily ever after?

There was nothing he could do now, was there? The only thing left to do was mourn. So he thought back on his life with you again. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could see you again in his dreams tonight.

[softboynick]

sentence sunday - 6/9/2024

69??! EYYYYY.

thanks for the tags my loves @duchessdepolignaca03 @thinkof-england @eusuntgratie <3

this is something different for sentence sunday! my @aroyallybigbangrwrb is nearly done and I’m excited to post it soon, but I was inspired by Ms. Sabrina Carpenter for a please please please firstprince AU ;)

—

“I’m starting to think you enjoy getting arrested.”

“I enjoy standing up for what’s right.”

Cash shakes his head and holds up a clear bag containing his belongings, ALEXANDER G. DIAZ written in black sharpie across the front. “Everything look good in here?”

Alex eyes the bag. Apple Watch (dead), check. Phone (also dead), check. Wallet, check. House key on a silver chain, check. Signet ring, check. Last name, however…

“It’s Claremont-Diaz, but other than that, it’s all good.”

With a nod, Cash slides the bag into the metal drawer, and Alex grabs it from the other side.

“Say hi to Henry for me,” he says.

Alex grins. “Will do. See ya, Cash!”

“I hope I don’t, kid.”

Alex laughs and flashes him a peace sign, his signature goodbye, before turning around to follow another officer to the exit. Stepping through the gates, he scans the parking lot and immediately finds Henry’s stupid forest green Aston Martin parked pretentiously in the middle of two parking spaces. The man in question is leaning against the driver’s side, looking like some kind of James Bond incarnate. Only a man like Henry Fox could show up at the county jail in a fucking suit and tie.

He sighs. God, he’s so in love with him.

“Hey, baby!” he shouts as he breaks out into a jog.

“You are the absolute bane of my existence,” Henry says, in lieu of a proper greeting. His stare is piercing, even through his dark shades.

“And yet, you still bailed me out anyway,” Alex counters, his smile never faltering, as he slows to a stop in front of him. “Just admit it, you do love me.”

The sigh Henry releases is heavy and put-upon. “I was only doing the poor officers a favor.”

Alex sidles up against Henry, close enough to see the shape of his pretty eyes behind his sunglasses. He tilts his chin up in defiance, and his brown eyes sparkle with mischief. They stand there, just staring at each other, before he finally comes to a decision.

“Yeah, you love me,” he hums, nodding to himself.

Henry rolls his eyes and shoves him away. “Just get in the damn car.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex says, laughing all the way to the passenger’s side.

—

tagging: @henrysfox @taste-thewaste @bigassbowlingballhead @captainjunglegym @priincebutt

@tinyarmedtrex @wordsofhoneydew @anincompletelist @bitbybitwrites @itsmaybitheway

@nocoastposts @luainthewild @henryspearl @sheepywritesfics @lfg1986-2

@firstprincehornyramblings @firstprinced

[tryfonpeixes]

D'ya ever get that awful feeling when you've gone too long without eating? That one where there's this really gross pit in your stomach that actually makes your body sink in. The one that makes your hands shake because you had a small dinner and haven't eaten breakfast yet. The one that makes you salivate so much you feel like a dog, in a bad way. The one that makes your throat hurt and makes you feel like you're about to cry, and then the more you think about it you start to get all choked up and sad?

Joel's too used to that feeling- the feeling of the pit in your stomach when you go without food too long. Being alone means you notice these things, because there's nothing else to notice. He focuses on hunger and how awful it is, and how his hands tremble and he has to swallow a little more thickly every time he gets that feeling. The way that his Adam's apple felt like it was tearing at his throat, desperately clawing to get out.

Well- he's not sure where he's going with this. He's not sure what kind of point he's trying to make so he just tells himself the truth. The feeling reminded him of Jimmy. Beautiful, stubborn, ignorant Jimmy.

When he went so long without Jimmy he swore that there was a pit in his stomach that hurt like that. The kind of one that makes him tell himself he's definitely being overdramatic cause he was fed yesterday. Cause he saw Jimmy yesterday. Jimmy kind of reminded him of that stupid lump in his chest and that shaking feeling in his hands. The feeling of him getting overworked and trying to push himself to his very limit until he literally could not function without eating again. Without seeing Jimmy again.

He's not sure why he's admitting this to himself. He knows this already. God fucking damn it he knew it so well it drove him crazy. He knew he was weak without food, and that he couldn't live without it. He couldn't enjoy himself or anything that he was doing without food.. and he wasn't quite ready to assess that he felt the same way about Jimmy.

You know- he compared Jimmy to food once, just to see if he could find a food that sticks. Something that he could firmly say was a food that reminded him of Jimmy. At first he went with sweeter things, like tiramisu and cream horns and strawberries. Then the thought drifted. Jimmy isn't actually that sweet. He could be a bitch too, sour and leaving a weird taste in your mouth. Not a bad one though. Joel enjoyed the most bitter and sour of foods out there. He could handle a bit of sour from Jimmy.

Jimmy kind of reminded him of a peanut butter and jam sandwich. PB&J was simple, easy enough, well known, and yet so good tasting. What a lot of people might not realize about PB&J is that there are so many ways to ruin it- to mess it up, so they just don't bother to be careful like they would with any other food. After all, it's a PB&J. You wouldn't be so careful with one either, would you? On the flip side, there are so many ways to make a PB&J better, to enhance it's flavour and make it as delicious as it could get. You could toast the bread, butter it too. You could get preserves or expensive peanut butter as well. You could add honey or syrup to make it sweeter- or you could add guacamole to make it savory.

Joel thinks he likes PB&J the way it is. Sometimes he won't be as careful as he should, and tears the bread, but he always makes up for it.

What was he saying again? Right. Jimmy. Jimmy reminded him of all of those things- the things you could do to a PB&J, and how you still wouldn't get it as good as how it's supposed to be. He liked Jimmy the way he was, to be honest. Some people only wanted him for a kiss- or for when he's all cute and bubbly all himbo like. Those people really got on his nerves, actually. Did you think he was really just all of that nonsense he put on for show? Jimmy was smart and crafty, kind of like a fox. He seems a little plain, but he was Joel's favourite. He was Joel's comfort on an early morning when he was hungry, and his hands shook and he felt a lump in his throat.

Joel gets up. He thinks he might have a sandwich.

Tag:

@zedif-y

[discorainycomputer]

I was bored at uni one day so decided to make hypothetical pokemon teams for the Touden party. Some are based on vibes, some are references to the characters themselves. Explanations below, at some places I go into spoiler territory so read at your own risk. I dont know how to spoilertag so im just gonna paste a lot of "/" so people have to click read more.

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Laios: In general a very monster focused team. Initially i considered filling his entire team with dragons, but found that idea pretty boring. Hydreigon is a perfect fit for Laios. It fits both his love of dragons, multiheaded monsters, and it fits one of his titles at the end of the story: Laios of the Three heads. Escavalier is a reference to the living armor, which i think is the coolest monster in the entire series. Thats not enough to have it as a team member though, so the real reason i placed it on Laios' theme is that its Kensuke. Pyroar is The Winged Lion, as Laios is the only person in the story who truly understands it. Nidoking is a monster, but it also has king in its name. Lycanrock (day) is a reference to his childhood dogs. Finally Lickylicky references his endless apetite. I chose Lickylicky over snorlax, because Lickylicky is more niche in its appeal, and Laios is the type of person who likes things other would say "Thats stupid" to.

Marcille: I struggled a bit with this team, but in general i wanted to focus on her Elf identity, which mean some more feminine pokemon. However i also wanted to focus on her ancient magic and magical capabilities. I think Gardevoir is a perfect fit for her. Its a very caring pokemon, and its a very powerful psychic type. I added Cradily because i felt it fit her a lot. Its an ancient pokemon, and its a plant. You could see this as fitting with her staff and such, but all in all i just thought it really fit Marcille a lot. Next is Trevenant, which is a reference to her staff, Ambrosia. Its also a ghost type pokemon and has a darker design than just a tree, so i felt it was a nice tie in to her having darker/ancient magic than she lets on at first. Meowstic is a pokemon i put in simply for the vibes, I feel it fits her a lot. No other reason really. Gothitelle is here to reference her Dungeon Lord outfit, but i also think its a pokemon she would like. At last Spiritomb. This is a reference to her ancient magic, and i feel no other pokemon could represent an old unknown horror quite as well as Spiritomb.

Senshi: I wanted to really include Senshis key characteristics here, but really ended up with a lot of food pokemon. Mudsbray is a reference to Anne, both the horse and the Kelpie. Torterra is a pokemon i think senshi would like. I initially wanted to use Golem or another rock type to reference his farm golems, but i think Torterra just does the idea much better seeing as its basically an ecosystem in itself. Kangaskhan is a reference to his parental role in the party, but also his need to take care of the younger generation. Perrserker is a reference to his dwarf identity, i just think its neat. Appletun is an apple pie, and Farfetch'd seems like a nice pokemon to help you make food.

Chilchuck: With Chilchuck i wanted to both think of his status as the party rogue/trap disarmer and his position as a family man at heart. I wanted to reference his politics, but found it hard to represent with pokemon. First up we have Thievul, which is just a great fit for him. Its a thief fox that steps around silently, i think he would really like this thing. Klefki is his disarming tools. Maushold is him and his family. I think Pyukumuku is actually the best representation of him. Its small, and mostly utility focused, which is really his place in the party. However its also really cool so theres that, i guess. Lastly Galarian Stunfisk represents traps, and Gimmieghoul is his (least) favourite monster The Mimic.

Izutsumi: I wanted to emphazise that shes both a cat and a angsty teenager, but ended up with a very edgy team. I suppose it fits her though. Liepard is a scheming cat pokemon. It also fits because it has a rivalry with Thievul, which is in Chilchucks team. I think it was a nice fit as they basically have a grumpy dad/teenage daughter relationship at times. Sneasel is a mischievous little guy, which is basically a description of Izutsumi. Greninja is a ninja, and Luxio kinda looks like Izutsumi. Zoroark and Umbreon are both pretty edgy pokemon which i loved as a teenager, but i do think they fit her design. This is probably the weakest team on this list, but I still feel it fits her a lot.

Falin: I wanted to represent Falins place in the story, aswell as some of her likes. Dracozolt is a direct reference to her status as a hybrid bird/dragon/human monster. Its a perfect fit really. Hatterene represents her status as a "damsel in distress" that the party need to save. Although i think shes more than that, I felt it fit as Hatterene also has powerful magic. Oranguru i thought was a funny pick, i think it fits her healing mage aesthetic, and they basically have the same design really. Scolipede is a reference to her love of bugs and Reuniclus is both a psychic type and a body. I think it was a nice fit for her. Lastly we have Alolan Marowak, who in design is an exorcist, which is a nice little nod to her and Laios' conversation when they were children. Her potentially becoming a wandering exorcist.

And thats that. I made this just for fun so there are probably better choices for some of the characters. thanks.

[ivy-meshle]

Tball discord is making me feel things. Plus the Territory Cup going the way it did is making me feel More things. Yuo know how it goes.

0 notes

👁️ terror-a-ball

👁️ terror-a-ball

Okay does this work oh look it does thank you Gaza this is so much nicer how do I get it to stop tap it again oh okay thank

👁️ terror-a-ball

Gaza helped me figure out speech to text no not Gaza Gaza no KH not G

👁️ terror-a-ball

Khaza

👁️ terror-a-ball

Okay that worked Khaza just had to type her name a bunch so it knows I want to say Khaza and not the other one wait she doesn’t spell her pronouns like that she uses the other ones SIE and HIR not those

👁️ terror-a-ball

I can’t do the typing thing again because both pronouns sound the same

🍝 ay-yea-mannn

Don’t worry about it. I've got worse problems.

👁️ terror-a-ball

Okay thank you I appreciate it

#ismd srill rryinf ti leRN TO RUPD

15 notes

🍎 girl-on-her-phone

now i look stupid in front of hot girl. my life is over 😔

#i told her i’d crush her and then we lost two games in a row #im losing my mind

5 notes

🍷 lipgloss-luvrr Follow based on your likes!

Hhhholy shit

#SHE JSUT POSTED HERE AND CALLED ME HOT #HOWDYA LIKE EM GRAPES WHISKEY?? #or howdya like em apples. since she’s an apple baron

7 notes

🦢 guy-with-an-amulet

🍎 the-amulet

hey check out this cool new trick i learned *i try to do a backflip and kick you in the face before landing on my hip, fucking it up. we have to call corvid to drive us to urgent care because gunner is dead and teccie didnt inherit his driving ability*

🦢 guy-with-an-amulet

you know this format is for stuff that didn't actually happen right

🦢 guy-with-an-amulet

I mean haha yeah thats funny deb. thatd be crazy.

#don't look at me #don't even talk to me #no i didnt get a concussion im just a silly little guy

103 notes

🐝 whiskey-tango-and-a-fox

ok my bad i did not realize how NERD rolls.

#i thought for sure the girl who was dating(?) the guy the fans killed would not be looking for a new so yet #but what do i know i guess

2 notes

🌌 ivy-meshle

my dash is looking wild after those games

[footprintsinthesxnd]

The Larks Song

Summary: Florence Lark joined the ENSA to do her part for the war effort. On a daily basis she is surrounding by charming young men, so why would David Webster the any different. His blunt personality seems to draw her in but with the world at war, can they make it through? Warnings: not too many warnings for this chapter, Webster being an adorable romantic

Will You Be Mine

The weeks following their first encounter seemed to fly by. Training was harder, the days were longer and Webster got the sense that their impending doom would soon be upon them once more. He was happier with Easy Company and he’d even made a few friends, having lost his two closest friends from Fox Company on D-Day. His relationship with Florence grew too. He would see her most days and she sang for the troops nearly every night. Florence always called him chivalrous, a true gentleman but to him, she was the Apple of his eye. The only woman he’d ever wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Webster decided to ask her an important question one afternoon. If the war had taught him anything it was that life was fleeting and fragile and should the worst happen to him on his next jump then at least Florence would know how he felt. Webster had always imagined that he would ask a woman to marry him somewhere romantic, after dating for a year or two and having met her parents but the war didn’t allow for such luxuries. Instead on his leave to London, Webster went to a jewellery store and bought a ring. It was small, nothing too much. A simple silver band with a diamond nestled on top, but he knew Florence would love it.

The ring then stayed in his pocket for the next two weeks while he worked on his speech and worked up the courage to ask her.

“I wanted to ask you something but I want you to know it’s okay to say no,” Webster spoke up one afternoon as they lay in one of the grassy meadows that backed onto the house that the singers were billeted at.

Florence hummed in response, too distracted by the clouds that drifted above them as she absentmindedly ran her fingers up and down Webster’s chest.

“Well it’s kind of important,” Webster sat up, grasping Florence’s hands and pulling her up to face him. She looked at him worriedly, her eyes looking a little teary as she muttered, “Are you leaving me?”

Webster spluttered on his next sentence, taken aback by this sudden change, “W-what, no, no Florence my love. It’s quite the opposite actually.” He rubbed his neck nervously, the speech he had planned escaping him when he needed it most. To think he’d let George Luz practice the speech with him and now he couldn’t remember it.

“Well, I just wanted to ask…”

“Yes I do want to have sex with you,” Florence replied blatantly, looking dead serious as she smiled at him. Webster was a little taken aback for the second time that afternoon, his mouth suddenly dry as he processed what she’d said

“Well… yes that would … be nice umm but that’s not what I was asking. Although I do want to have sex with you too,” Webster babbled watching as Florence’s face fell and then the smile reappeared almost instantly.

“You know what. It’s okay. It’s not really that important,” Webster laid back down, beckoning Florence to join him.

“But what was it you wanted to ask me?” She mumbled again but Webster’s eyes had slid shut and in the soft, afternoon sun he’d fallen asleep.

As time rolled by, Florence had all but forgotten the awkward moment in the field that day. She’d berated herself for it for weeks afterwards, blurting out something so stupid.

Time seemed to fly and soon it was June and Florence’s last night with the 101st came around. Her heart broke to leave Aldbourne. Who knows when she would be able to see Webster again?

She was chatting to one of the band members when George Luz appeared next to her.

“Ah, Florence. A beautiful angel. A voice like a lark. How are you?”

Florence laughed, amused by George’s theatrical bow, “I’m good thank you, George. What can I do for you?”

George looked a little shocked, pressing his hand against his chest as he mocked a gasp, “Why would you think I’d want something.”

Florence raised her eyebrow, watching him out the side of her eye as she collected up the music sheets. George fumbled with his hands, pondering what to say before spitting it out.

“I need to ask you for a favour.” George shuffled his feet awkwardly, looking over his shoulder at his group of friends who were giving him a thumbs up from the doorway. Chuck nearly fell over laughing and Floyd had to support his friend to not draw too much attention to themselves. Florence looked unamused at the gaggle of paratroopers clearly trying to cause trouble.

“What’s the favour, George?”

“Well, you see… there’s a girl… and well I want to sing her a song. Could I maybe add a song to the end of your set? Please Flo Flo,” he clasped his hands together, pleading and battering his eyelashes dramatically at her.

Florence sighed, curious to see what song he was planning but unsure at the same time. What’s the worst that could happen? It was her last night in Aldbourne after all.

“Alright, fine. But no funny business, Luz. I want you on your best behaviour.”

George bowed again, “Of course Ma’am, only the best for you Flo. I shall be in your debt.” George chuckled, hurrying off towards his friends who were cheering with excitement. Whatever they had planned, Florence couldn’t determine but knowing George Luz it could quite possibly end in disaster.

As Florence sang the last note of ‘Pack up your troubles’ the crowd erupted, clapping and cheering. Despite the boy's reaction to her first performance, she had grown to love them all, even the officers who rarely spoke to her but still seemed to enjoy her singing. She could see Webster, standing and clapping enthusiastically. She blew him a kiss and he reached out to catch it, placing it against his chest. Florence waved at the crowd one last time before exiting the stage, bumping straight into George, Chuck, Floyd and Babe. They beamed at her and she just smiled. They were absolutely up to something. She moved through the crowd aiming for the seat that had been free beside Webster but noticing he was no longer there. She turned around, eyes scanning the crowd of paratroopers.

“He’ll be back in a bit, Florence. He’s gone to take a leak,” Liebgott gave her a toothy grin and Florence took her seat, residing in the fact that Webster would be back soon. She watched as the boys got themselves ready on the stage, handing sheet music to the band and leaving Florence wondering exactly what they had planned. She looked over her shoulder over the crowd, scanning to see which woman had stolen George’s heart but the few women there had men’s arms already around their shoulders, pulled close into their sides.

As the music sprung to life, Florence waited with baited breath to see what was about to unfold, when Webster strolled out onto the stage like he’d been doing it his whole life. He grasped the microphone and began belting out the lyrics to ‘You’re as pretty as a picture’ with the other boys backing him up. Florence’s heart leapt out of her chest as Webster sang, pointing towards her and causing her cheeks to flash. Liebgott leant over, a smug grin on his face, “he’s not as bad as I thought he’d be.”

Florence was a mixture of embarrassed, in awe and utterly in love with the man who sang his heart out for her. As the song came to an end the room erupted with cheers and clamping. Webster still grasping the microphone began to speak, “Flo I have a really important question for you,” before he lost his nerve he dug into his pocket, pulling out the ring and thrusting it towards her. “I know it’s not m-much, but I, well…”

Florence’s eyes stayed glued to the ring, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Webster.

“Are you asking what I think you are, Ken?” Webster nodded, smiling at the use of his family nickname. Florence had read one of the letters he’d sent home to his family and had adopted the use of his middle name. ‘David doesn’t suit you’ she had reasoned and so it had stuck.

“I certainly am,” Webster replied, leaving the stage and approaching her, his shaky hand coming to clutch hold of Florence’s. “But like I told you before you can say…”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!” She leapt forward, jumping into Webster’s arms and causing him to stumble but his grip on her never faltered. “A thousand times yes.” She sealed the last sentence with a kiss and Webster wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

“I had a…” she kissed him again. “Speech planned and everything.” Webster tried to talk but got the message when Florence pressed her lips firmly to his once more.

“I don’t mind you didn’t do your speech. This was perfect.”

The room exploded with cheers, all the men patting Webster on the back and kissing Florence’s cheek. The room was alive and suddenly the mood didn’t seem so sombre because although it might be Florence’s last night in Aldbourne, she was no longer just a girl Webster would write to but his future wife.

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @xxluckystrike @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt

[fans4wga]

Hi! Me again :).

I have some more questions. I’m genuinely trying to understand.

1. What if you directed and wrote a movie? Are you then allowed to promote it, since you’ve directed it?

2. Are you allowed to promote other people’s movies? Is it just limited to your own projects?

3. Are you allowed to respond to casting announcements as an actor? Even when the movie is not coming out any time soon? Or does that count as promoting?

4. This May sound stupid: but let’s just say you’ve been cast in the adaptation for a book and now the strike is happening. Are you allowed to talk about the book on your socials or is that crossing the line? Even if you don’t mention the adaptation?

5. Another stupid question: let’s say that you’ve been cast in the sequel of a movie that came out a few years ago? Are you allowed to talk about the first movie without mentioning the upcoming one?

These are all my questions. Sorry for asking so many, but I’m genuinely interested in supporting the situation and understanding it

These are good questions, no apology necessary :)

The Directors' Guild of America (DGA) is not currently on strike, since they reached a deal with the AMPTP in between the start of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move, to quote Douglas Adams. The DGA deal doesn't really sufficiently address AI or get wage increases to match inflation. So directors can do whatever they want right now. Some DGA members are also dual members with the WGA or SAG-AFTRA—for instance Greta Gerwig (Barbie). As a director she's free to promote the film, though not as a writer. The WGA and SAG-AFTRA might give her some side-eye right now but she's not breaking any rules. Otherwise WGA and SAG-AFTRA on strike cannot do promotion for their stuff, period.

No promotion of struck material as a WGA/SAG-AFTRA member, period. Remember the purpose of the strike is to grind Hollywood to a screeching halt and remind the studios of just how important writers and actors are. The more Hollywood stops working, the more successful the strike.

That probably counts as promoting. Again, the spirit of the strike is to basically stop all work so Hollywood gets reminded of how important the union members are to its basic functions. Strikes are supposed to be disruptive. Members who understand that will refrain from looking for loopholes.

Books aren't struck so I think that wouldn't be crossing a line. But again, members who understand that disruption is the point will not be looking for loopholes to talk about their projects, so hopefully won't do that.

Struck work includes both past and present movies/shows from struck companies (all the American networks, studios, and streamers: 350+ companies but the main ones are Netflix, Amazon Prime, Apple TV, NBC Universal, Sony/Columbia, Disney/ABC, CBS, and Fox.) SAG-AFTRA is asking people to not promote/discuss past works either. Again, it's about being as disruptive as possible.

Let us know if you have any other questions or clarifications needed—we're happy to talk the strikes anytime!

[roki-snake-sinner]

Stress baking and two very hungry bitties

I see the Papyrus/Swap Sans, as skeletons that stress bakes/cooks whenever they are alone, or with other Papi/swaps. And I wanted to write this scenario for a long ass time!! If anyone wants more or want to make a request, please let me know. Warning: implied Fontcest, don’t like then don’t read!!

Edge (Fell! Papyrus) and bitty Horrortale Sans and Papyrus (different than original Horrortale brothers)

“SO YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THESE THINGS ARE TINY VERSIONS OF US?” Edge looks down at his brother, who has a small box, covered with a small fluffy blanket, in his arms and then to the silent box.

He could feel the familiar magic of the alternative Sans and Papyrus, but it was strange, like being near a small predator that was hungry and he didn’t know if he was meant to be the prey or provider.

”heh, something like that. Softy found them near a sewer drain, and.. we’ll take a look.” Red, such a stupid name, gently sets the box on the kitchen table and folds the blanket in half so the two of them could peek in.

“Fuck! Little shits!” Red growls as a tiny bone soars out of the box, cracked and with a faint bloody red glow, and nearly hits him in the eye socket.

Edge lets out an annoyed sigh as he grabs a sheet pan, and holds it like a shield as he peeks in. The pan takes a couple more hits before the tiny skeleton, which reminds Edge of Axe, or HT Sans, but tiny and worse for wear, as the bigger HT Sans and Papyrus had years on the surface and ate their weight in food and were slowly healing from the abuse of their world, tires itself out.

“BROTHER, YOU KNOW BETTER THAN TO UNDERMINE A CAPTURED MONSTER.” Edge lectures his brother as he sets the pan off to the side, but will within reach.

“oh fuck off bro. Rus said that it fell asleep, didn’t know it was pretending.” Red grumbles, pissed that he has gotten soft of being on guard.

“HM, YOU MAY LEAVE THEM ON THE TABLE. GET DOOMFANGER INTO HER ROOM WHILE I MAKE SOMETHING FOR OUR… UNINVITED GUESTS.” Edge turns and returns to baking, something he got into after seeing his brother inhale Rus’ mustard cookies and tried to sneak more.

“yeah yeah, just don’t lose a fucken eyelight, sweety.” Red puns, knowing that his nicknames are the best way to get a small treat even when his bro is not in the mood to share some of his creations.

“GO BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND.” Edge huffs as he scans the box from the corner of his eye socket, keeping his magic close as a just in case.

A few hours later, Red leaves with a delightful bag of mustard cookies, with a box of other sweets to give to the other skeletons, and Edge carefully sets a plateful of monster food mini muffins, all different kinds, filled with his healing magic and nutritious.

The box stays silent, save for a few growling tummies, but Edge ignores it and begins cleaning.

He swallows the smile and chuckle wanting to escape as a very tiny, very dirty, very hungry HT Sans and Papyrus carefully makes their way out of the box, using the blanket and maybe some of their own magic, and sniff the mini muffins.

The Tiny Axe, maybe Edge should call him something else, take a small bite of a chocolate chip one and his soul skips a beat as he hear a tiny, soft, purr of delight.

‘It’s like Doomy all over again.’ He thinks as he continues washing the muffin pans, bowls, and such.

A small clatter almost makes him turn around, but he stays strong. Only a few minutes later, he would find the plate empty and melted chocolate spelling out, ‘Thanks’.

“Much little Doomy indeed.”

——-I don’t own anything, just the idea! Horrortale belongs to Sour-Apple-studios, UnderFell belongs to UnderFell (more or less), Undertale belongs to Toby Fox!