#get digested idiot

[sicc-nasti]

Rapunzel type tower situation but the tower is a giant mimic and hunts in the way a pitcher plant does. Yes, fair knight. Climb up this conveniently long hair, follow the sweet smell, pull yourself up and over the window sill and fall in to the far below.

[blood-orange-juice]

and then there's that scene where Luocha suggested to fight Abundance with Propagation

So is anyone going to talk about how Teyvat looks like the insides of a giant bug from Star Rail or do I have to do it myself

[kyber-crystal]

10 things i hate about you || f.w.

summary: rumor has it that you and fred weasley are going out. being the instigators you two are, you decide to play into said rumors. but just how far could you go before you lose sight of the line between fiction and reality? 

words: ~7.9k LMFAO I REALLY WENT OVERBOARD HERE

warnings: cheesiness, cliche 10 things i hate about you vibes, both y/n and fred being oblivious idiots. what’s more to love

a/n: you thought i’d avoid writing another fake dating fic? with fred? NEVER. ik there r some fake dating fred fics out there but i swear we need MORE bc this is the best trope ever idc. also made up a name for the school paper cs i forgot if it was a thing in the books/movies lol. reader is an implied gryffindor/ravenclaw but can technically be in whatever house you’d like : )

add yourself to my hp taglist here!

The problem with Hogwarts was that rumors spread through its halls like fiendfyre.

It all started during the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Harry had narrowly caught the Snitch after a Dementor false alarm and carried the team to victory, causing the stadium to explode into ground-shaking cheers.  Waves of deep crimson and gold were pouring onto the field and you almost got trampled in the midst of it until someone pulled you into the center. 

“There you are—I was looking all over for you,” Fred beamed. “You were watching, right?”

“I was sitting front row…you literally saw me, Fred,” you stated plainly. 

“I know, but I wanted to make sure,” he winked at you, sidelining you into a hug. “You look very pretty, by the way. I think my hat looks better on you than me.”

“Anddd there’s the woman of the hour! He couldn’t stop staring at you—almost crashed into the teachers’ section ‘cause of that,” Lee came over and clasped your shoulder. 

“That’s what that was all about? Freddie, you need to get it together!”

“Can’t help when you’re as alluring as a Veela,” the compliment rolled effortlessly off his tongue. He then tilted his chin down to kiss your forehead, and you didn’t bother pushing him away despite the fact that he was all sweaty after being up in the air. 

A bright flash of light pulled you out of Fred’s embrace, and you blinked to see Colin standing there with a wide grin on his face, camera in hand. 

“Just capturing the moment,” the younger Gryffindor said excitedly. “This is gonna be a good one!”

You thought nothing of it until you went down to the Great Hall for breakfast the following morning. You went over to find your Ravenclaw friends, who seemed to be huddled around something, staring at it intensely.

“Oh, hey Y/N!” Cho beamed brightly at you, moving over to make room for you to sit next to her. “Have you seen the latest school newsletter?”

You filled your plate and took a copy of the Hogwarts Daily Digest that Padma gave you. “No…what’s it all about?”

“Check page 3,” she told you. You took a bite of your toast first, pausing as you scanned over the page. At the front and center was a moving picture of you and Fred embracing, him pressing a kiss to your temple, smiles of pure bliss on both your faces. You had to admit that Colin had a way with pictures; so much so that you almost would’ve believed you and Fred were a true couple just by looking at the article. 

“So we’re going out, apparently,” you said, taking another bite of your food, “...Interesting.”

“Several students were interviewed about it, and they’re wondering if you guys are,” Cho explained. “With the way he kept looking over at you during the game, and how he was searching for you after it ended.” 

“I—I’ve ought to talk to Fred himself, see what he thinks about this—” you spluttered, feeling hot all of a sudden. “I just—we’re not even—”

“But you would be very cute together,” your best friend added. “I mean, you have known each other for how long now? It wouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone if you were.”

At the end of the day, you went to the library to squeeze in some quiet alone time for reading, curling up on one of the plushy sofas near the bookshelves. You were deep into a mythical book that Hermione recommended, fully zoned in for what felt like forever until the cushion sank a bit, indicating that someone had sat down next to you.

“What do you want, Fred,” you sighed without even looking up from your book. “Come to bother me again?”

He took the book from your hands in response and closed it. 

“Hey, I was reading that—” you began. 

“I wanted to ask you about the article,” he stated, “don’t you think Creevey’s quite the photographer?”

You scoffed. “If this is about us being a couple, you know we’re not.”

“I was going to suggest something else.”

“And what is that?”

“Given that half the school is talking about us already,” he referred to the whispers in the halls that followed you from class to class, “why not play into the rumors a bit?”

“So you’re suggesting that, what?”

“That we say we’re a couple.”

“...you want to pretend that we’re going out?”

“Why not?” 

“That’s insane,” you shot him a glare. “What do either of us get out of it?”

“Practice, of course,” Fred had a proud look on, “but also, why not have some fun with it?”

You stopped and thought about it for a second. He was right—who were you to not want to have a bit of fun? After all, it was just Fred; it couldn’t be that hard to fake-date someone, especially when you had no real feelings for them.

“Fine, but only on one condition.”

“What’s that, love?”

“Promise not to fall in love with me?” You stuck your hand out towards him. 

Fred took it and gave it a firm shake, his signature mischievous grin making its appearance. “As long as you don’t fall for me either.”

“Dream on.”

He leans forward, voice dropping to a low whisper. “10 galleons says you’ll fall in love with me first.”

“Oh, please. 20 says you won’t even last half as long.”

“You’re on.”

So it began—settling into the whole routine was surprisingly easy. But of course, it was probably easier since you had money on the line; asides from George, you and Fred were the most competitive people in the entire school. You’d do anything for extra money, glory, and infinite bragging rights. 

Making it a point to one-up each other, you began to brainstorm ways to really play up the whole “fake girlfriend” thing.

i. the pda competition, part 1

Monday afternoon’s Potions lesson proceeded as always, with Snape’s annoying, drawling voice instructing you on what to do. 

Today’s class was boring but ended early, the only downside being that you were assigned a hefty load of homework. 

“By the beginning of Wednesday’s class, you shall turn in to me two feet of parchment on the history of Strengthening Solution and its’ properties…” Snape ordered, “...for now, follow the instructions on the board. Ingredients are in the back. I expect the utmost perfection and accuracy…those who fail shall not be tolerated.”

Groaning internally, you headed to the back of the classroom towards the supply cabinets, Fred following close behind. Either Snape was out to get you both or it was sheer luck that had you paired together for this assignment. 

“Wait, you forgot something,” Fred called out as you were about to walk away. 

You turned around, a snarky reply ready. “What is—”

You didn’t even have the chance to finish your sentence when he grabbed you by the wrist and tugged you into his chest, kissing you square on the lips. You were completely taken by surprise and had no time to react whatsoever. 

Low wolf-whistles and “ooohs” reverbrated throughout the entire classroom as you broke apart. 

“What was that for?” you hissed. 

There was a devilish grin on his face, and you so desperately wanted to wipe it right off him. “Just trying to be a good fake boyfriend, of course,” he whispered into your ear.

“Touch me again without warning and I’ll break your nose,” you said in a low tone, ignoring the heat rising up your cheeks.

“Miss Y/L/N…Mr. Weasley…” Snape said lowly, “...back to your seats, both of you. This is a classroom, not a bedroom. Get to work.”

Several students giggled at this and you huffed, heading back to your seat. You didn’t speak more than a few sentences to Fred for the remainder of the lesson, face still flushed from the sudden incident. He kept stealing glances at you as you worked in silence, adding the ingredients into your bubbling cauldron with careful, precise movements.

“That’s 1-0 to me,” he reminded you. “Better hurry and catch up, or I’m winning those Galleons.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you muttered, uncapping the bottle in front of you and pouring some of the liquid in.

ii. the pda competition, part 2

After Fred had kissed you in the middle of a packed classroom, you were determined to get back at him, racking your brain for ideas. 

You sat under a sprawling tree by the Great Lake with Cedric, Cho, Padma, Ernie, and several other Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students. Somehow, you got lucky and all had matching free periods today, taking the opportunity to have a picnic by the water together. 

“A little birdie told me that you and a special someone were going out,” Cedric pointed a finger at you, the other arm slung around Cho’s shoulders. “Now what’s going on?”

“They’ve always been mad about each other, only took them a million years to see it,” Ernie butted in. “Isn’t it obvious? One would think they’re already married at this point, though.” 

“Who’s married to who?” you heard someone ask from behind you. 

“Speak of the devil,” Ernie said, “there he is!”

“Was going to check on you—see you at supper?” Fred lightly touched your cheek. You nodded blindly, the skin of his hand hot on your face. 

“Okay, I’ll meet you there.”

You turned back around to see everyone smirking at you knowingly. 

“What?” you questioned, adjusting the collar of your shirt as if nothing had happened. 

“Aren’t you two the cutest,” Cho laughed breathily, “Ernie was right. It’s like you’re married.”

“Oh shut up, we’re still much too young for that.”

“Not for long!” 

Of course the only empty seat at the Gryffindor table that evening was next to Fred, and he made sure that you were sitting as close to him as humanly possible. All it would take was an extra few inches and you’d fully be sitting on his lap. You shook off the embarrassment and snapped back into it, determined to win the bet.

“I missed you all day, you know,” he admitted, placing a dinner roll onto your plate for you. “Where have you been?”

“By the lakes,” you said matter-of-factly. “Where else would I be?”

“With me, obviously.” 

“I’d rather be anywhere else.”

“Well that hurt,” he pretended to look hurt. “I thought I was your favorite.”

“Second to last,” you joked. “Hey, wait—there’s something on your mouth.”

“Where?” he tried motioning around with his fingers but to no avail. 

“Right…here…” you murmured, gently grasping his chin and pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his lip, tasting a hint of the sweet cranberry sauce he’d been eating on the tip of your tongue. Loud gasps erupted through the Great Hall at the sudden private but public display. 

Fred inhaled sharply—he knew you were bold, but like this? For once, the jokester had nothing sarcastic to counter you with and was at a loss for words. 

When you pulled away, both yours and his faces were a shade of deep scarlet.

“Cat got your tongue?” you smirked, discreetly slipping a sheet of paper into his back pocket. “That’s 1-1 now, Fred.”

Again, Fred was left speechless. 

“I feel like I’m interrupting something very…” Ron coughed, damn near choking on his chicken leg. “Intimate. Scandalous. Very—”

“Shut it, Ronald,” you cut him off. “Can’t a girl snog her boyfriend when she wants?”

More jaws dropped at your reply, and you simply continued eating, a victorious grin on your face. Fred looked down and fished the note out of his pocket, unfolding the smooth parchment to reveal your tidy penmanship. 

Now who’s the flustered one? you know where to find me if you need me xx

You were so going to win. 

iii. the serenade

You found yourself sitting on the bench watching the Gryffindor Quidditch team practice—it was Fred’s idea to show up to as many of them as possible to really sell the whole “fake dating” thing. You didn’t mind all that much, as you got bored easily and liked to have a change of scenery every so often while you were studying. 

A loud, abrupt screech caused you to look up from your textbook and you winced, covering your ears. 

“You’re just too good to be true…can’t take my eyes off of you…” a melodic voice began flowing across the stadium. Confused, you set your book down and stood up, looking around for the source of the noise. 

“You’d be like Heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much…at long last love has arrived…” 

Fred suddenly appeared from the commentator’s box, holding a microphone. He casually leaned against the pole before sliding down and hitting the bleachers, gracefully making his way down the steps. 

“...And I thank God I’m alive…” his eyes remained focused on you, blazing gold and green. “You’re just too good to be true…” 

“What the—”

He spun around and pointed at you, the corners of his lips quirking up in a childish grin, “...Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“HIT IT, WOOD!” you heard someone (was that Lee?) yell, and music began blasting from the speakers.

Your friends were eyeing you with delight, fully entertained by the fact that you had absolutely no clue what was happening. Fred continued singing while he sauntered down the bleachers with a grace that you had never seen. 

“I love you, baby, and if it's quite alright

I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night

I love you, baby, trust in me when I say

Oh, pretty baby, don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay

And let me love you, baby, let me love you”

A blush coated your cheeks as he finally approached you, taking one of your hands in his and twirling you around. He held your gaze the entire time, eyes alight with what looked like genuine joy and passion. The rest of your classmates joined in as they crowded around you, joining together in one voice. 

It was impossible to hold back the smile creeping up your face as Fred continued to sing—he was undeniably charming, and you had to admit, this was well worth suffering a brief loss for. 

“Oh pretty baby, trust in me when I say…” the final lyrics left his mouth and everyone burst into applause. He made a show of bowing dramatically and kissing your hand in an exaggerated motion. 

You rolled your eyes at the overly extravagant gesture. But deep down, you had enjoyed every second of the impromptu serenade. 

Within minutes after it ended, Fred’s musical spectacle was the talk of the school. Students nudged each other in the corridors as you passed by, whispering words of encouragement, saying how they wished for a relationship like yours, and wondering where they could possibly find someone like Fred. 

You felt him slip something into your robe’s pocket. Fred had sidled up next to you as you headed up the stairs to the common room, still grinning widely. 

“2-1,” he reminded you, kissing your cheek before turning to the Fat Lady and uttering the password. He stepped through the portrait hole and turned back to wait for you, then walked all the way inside. “Better continue that game of catch up, I might just steal the title of ‘best fake partner ever’ from you.”

There’s that beautiful smile, the note read. Keep it on for me, will you?

iv. the nightmare

Your body seemed to have a mind of its own, because it was 3:27 a.m. and you were wide awake after barely squeezing in a few hours of sleep. 

Nothing you did worked; even the Potion for Dreamless Sleep had failed to keep the nightmares at bay. You didn’t last long before jolting awake, beads of sweat forming at your forehead and chest heaving with raggedy, jagged breaths. 

After several minutes of tossing and turning you gave up, quietly tiptoeing down the stairs to the common room. The fireplace was on, indicating that someone was already there—

“Y/N?” Fred turned around from his spot on the couch to look at you. “What’re you doing up at this hour?”

You yawned, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Finishing an assignment,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. Sheets of parchment, a vial of ink, and several books were spread out on the coffee table. “You?”

“Nothing,” you lied, sitting down next to him. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He didn’t miss the hoarse tone in your voice nor your tear-stained face, stopping what he was doing to fully focus on you. “Now I know that’s not true. What’s bothering you, really?”

“I said I’m fine, just can’t sleep.” You let out a shuddering sigh and attempted to will the tears away, but your vision began to blur. “Go finish your work—”

“Hey.” Fred’s voice was soft. “Come here.”

His arms gingerly wrapped around your trembling frame to envelop you into a tight hug. He reached one hand up to smooth out your hair as you shook with silent sobs, your hands curling  into the fabric of his robes as if holding onto him would keep you from slipping away and losing yourself again. 

Fred was never one to be patient, but he knew that you just needed this moment free of chaos. So he waited, laying there with you as he continued murmuring soothing words into your ear, gently rubbing your back; he’d wait for as long as he’d need to. 

You didn’t know how much time passed until the tears ran themselves dry and your throat felt like it had been scraped raw. 

“Want to tell me what happened?” he suggested. “But only if you’re comfortable, that is.”

You hesitated, wondering if it was a good idea to tell him. Maybe he’d think you were strange…but seeing how he looked so genuine in that moment changed your mind. 

“I lost you…I lost everyone. I watched you die, Fred.” Your voice was cracked and raw, which sent a pang through his chest. The image of Fred’s lifeless body trapped between the rubble flashed across your vision, feeling as if it was wrapping its cold fingers around your throat. “I watched you all die and I couldn’t save you.”

“But I’m alive and well right now, aren’t I?” he assured you calmly, “I’ll be here for as long as you want me around. You’ll have to fight to the death to get rid of me.”

Managing a broken laugh, you looked up at him. “Really?”

“Really. What are fake boyfriends for, anyway?” His hand found its place against your cheek, fingers gently skimming across your skin. You leaned into his touch and let out a sigh, lips just barely brushing over his palm.  

“No one’s here, Fred…you don’t need to pretend.”

“I know I don’t.” Any and all traces of half-witted sarcasm were gone; wiped clean off his face. Instead, his eyes were glossed over with concern as they raked over yours. “Figured I could keep you company? Since I didn’t want you to be alone in your head like this.”

“I’d like that.”

He then passed a familiar folded square to you, and you opened it with a smile.

I’m here, whenever you need - F.W

v. the hospital wing run-in

“For Godric’s sake, how many more times will I have to see you in here?” Madam Pomfrey demanded as she hurried around, setting a metal tray by your bedside. “This is the third time this month.”

“Sorry,” you winced as you shifted your injured leg onto the pillow she’d set out. 

“What is it this time?”

“I broke my ankle.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

Pursing your lips, you elected to tell her the modified version of the story, which was the one where you had tripped while going down the stairs, not the one that included running down the Astronomy Tower after sneaking up there for a dare (the twins’ doing). 

She shook her head in disbelief, glancing over the cuts on your face and fixing the bandages around your foot. “You’ll be in here for a few days. We’ll have to regrow the bones in your foot and ankle…my, how someone can break this many bones just from missing a step, I can’t seem to understand…what are all of you doing here?”

You followed her gaze to where Hermione, Ginny, Cho, and Fred were standing by the hospital wing’s entrance, alight with excitement upon seeing that you were awake.

“Guys—”

“Miss Granger, Miss Weasley, and Mr. Weasley, need I remind you that no visitors are allowed at this time! I advise that you all head back,” Madam Pomfrey ordered sharply. 

“But we haven’t seen her all last night and this morning! Can we just stay for a minute,” Hermione begged. “Please?”

The older woman sighed as she scanned your friends (and fake? boyfriend’s) desperate, pleading faces. “...Alright, then. Don’t stay too long and for Godric’s sake, let her breathe.”

They immediately crowded around your bed and Fred walked over to your side, crouching down so that you were eye level with him. 

“There’s my princess,” his charming persona was back in full force, and he smoothly brushed a few stray hairs out of your face. For what felt like the eleventh time, he was swooping in to kiss your cheek. Not that you were counting. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better now that you’re here,” you winked as you attempted to prop yourself into an upright position, but failed, giving up and flopping back down. “Ow. My foot.”

Ginny pretended to throw up on Hermione, who then elbowed her in the stomach.  “Ow!” she yelped. “What was that for?” 

“Let’s leave the happy couple alone,” she hissed, and they slowly backed away to give you some space. 

Fred pulled up a chair next to your bedside, propping his chin in his hand to stare at you. “I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean for you to end up with five broken bones.”

“And a concussion, a killer headache, and not to mention dozens of sore muscles,” you grimaced, but felt a slight ache in your chest when you realized he looked genuinely guilty. “I don’t blame you, really. I mean, I was just as stupid and reckless. I definitely could’ve been more careful but I wasn’t.”

“I’m supposed to mess up your lipstick,” he groaned, “not your bones.”

“Someone took ‘public displays of affection’ the wrong way,” you said sarcastically, and then there was a brief moment of silence before you both burst into laughter.

“Damn right he di—OW, Hermione!”

“Gin, let’s go!” With that, the two girls left the hospital wing, leaving the two of you alone.

“Why are you here, anyway? Hermione and Ginny are because they’re my friends, and you’re my—”

“—lovely, charming, undeniably handsome boyfriend, of course. Why wouldn’t I be here?” Fred finished your sentence for you.

“Right,” your voice was dripping with sarcasm, “I just can’t seem to get rid of you, can I? It seems like you’re always around.”

“And yet, you don’t push me away,” a smile tugged at his lips. “Which clearly means that I’m just that irresistible. I don’t need a charm or some silly love potion to reel you in.”

“Don’t think that because I’m incapacitated, this game is over,” you warned him. “I will beat your arse to a pulp, and you’ll be twenty Galleons lighter. I bet you’re madly in love with me already.”

“Believe what you want, my darling,” he sing-songed, twirling his wand between his fingers. “But we all know I’ve already won this game.”

“Yeah, right. We’re tied now, by the way. That’s for getting me injured.”

“Oi! You can’t just—”

“Shh…don’t come crying to me ‘till you lose.”

He ended up staying overnight. 

You didn’t protest at all. 

Neither did Madam Pomfrey later that evening after seeing him slumped over on your bed, fast asleep, one hand clutching yours like you were the only thing he had left to lose. 

vi. the howler 

For once you managed to get to the Great Hall before Fred did. The bloke was always criminally late or ridiculously early to everything; it was almost laughable how there was no in between for him. 

He finally showed up just ten minutes before breakfast was supposed to end, breathing hard with his hair all messed up.

“What’d I miss?” he asked you.

“Nothing,” you responded. “Just another ordinary day…”

A gust of wind suddenly swept through the hallway causing the napkins to flutter in the air. A giant grey owl came swooping down onto the table and landed straight in front of Fred, clutching an envelope in its curved talons. 

“What’s Errol doing here? We’re not supposed to get our daily mail til’ tomorrow,” Ron gawked, “surprised that he’s here given the number of times he’s collapsed mid-delivery—oh blimey Fred, you must be in trouble! You’ve got a Howler!”

Several Gryffindors around you giggled at this. 

With a slight look of confusion and fear, Fred carefully removed the seal on the bright red envelope. Molly Weasley’s booming voice immediately came bursting from the pages. 

“FRED WEASLEY, HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME THAT YOU WERE DATING MY FUTURE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW! I AM DISAPPOINTED IN YOU—Y/N dear, if you’re hearing this, I’m very happy for you and hope to see you at the Burrow soon, I’ll make sure to whip up some homemade custard for you—YOU OUGHT TO TREAT HER RIGHT, BOY, OR ELSE! I BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS WORLD AND I SURE AS MERLIN CAN TAKE YOU RIGHT OUT!”

A silence fell over the entire Great Hall and Fred sat there, in shock. The red envelope folded itself up and then burst into flames, its ashes crumbling to the floor. 

“I’ve never seen him turn that red,” George sniggered. “You’re bloody brilliant, Y/N.”

“Y-you did this?” Fred spluttered. 

“Can’t say I didn’t,” you hummed, patting his head affectionately. “Your mum was bound to find out, one way or another.”

“And you thought this was the best idea?”

“Aww, is little Freddie all embarrassed?” you teased. “Never thought I’d live to see that day.”

“Quit gloating,” the redhead grumbled. “You haven’t won yet. Better sleep with one eye open tonight.”

vii. the pda competition, part ∞

As it turned out, continuing to slip into your fake relationship only became more fun as the days and weeks dragged on. And being competitive only added to the fun, as you were scrambling to one-up each other. 

You often opted to hold his hand when walking from place to place, which wasn’t difficult given that you were almost always with him now and had to sell the idea that you really were together. His hands were rough and calloused from all those hours working on joke shop prototypes, but they were still surprisingly comforting. A way to keep you grounded when your head got stuck in the clouds. 

Fred’s signature move was, of course, dropping random kisses on your cheek when you didn’t expect it. Sometimes, when he was feeling bolder than usual, that would change to the tender spot between your ear and jaw, your shoulder, or your nose. And each of those times he made sure they were extra drawn-out and that you were in a crowded area so others would see it. The courtyard. The Quidditch pitch. The classroom (two of those incidents were in Potions, much to Snape’s dismay. He didn’t even bother taking points off due to being too disgusted).

“I have a massive exam today,” he declared loudly to you as you stood in front of his upcoming class together. “I think I’m going to need a kiss.”

“Why?” you scoffed. “What do you need that for?”

“For good luck,” Fred said, “it’s kind of a tradition, isn’t it?”

“You…want a kiss for good luck?” you started.  

“I’m waiting…” he sang, face turned slightly in an invitation. You sighed and went up on your tiptoes, doing as he asked. “Thank you. But you have terrible aim…you missed.”

“I fear you’re having way too much fun with this,” you muttered. “Don’t make excuses. My lips are not going near yours unless they absolutely need to now.”

“Oh come on, you know you’re having loads of fun too,” he called out as he walked into the classroom. “Catch you later, sweetheart!”

viii. the butterbeer (alt: the pda competition, part ∞)

It was the day of another Hogsmeade outing and you were hand-in-hand with Fred as you walked down the cobblestone streets together. You had planned to spend the day alone for the most part and join Cho for a meal, but Fred had cornered you at breakfast and insisted you go on a date with him.

“To keep up the façade,” he insisted. “Wouldn’t people find it odd if the castle’s favorite couple wasn’t together?” 

You nodded and didn’t protest further; you had no energy to do so anyway. It was far too cold for your taste; you had been dragged out without having time to grab your gloves, blowing hot hair into your hands that were steadily growing numb. 

“Love,” he called for you as he took your hands in his, “oh, your fingers feel like ice.”

“No…shit…” your teeth chattered as you attempted to respond steadily. “Might lose ‘em if we don’t hurry up and get inside—”

“Wait one second,” Fred said as you two stopped right outside the Three Broomsticks, wasting no more time in taking his gloves off and handing them to you to put on, while he wrapped his house scarf around your neck. “There. Let’s head in.”

“But—”

“Boyfriend duties, remember?” he winked at you as he pushed the door open, holding it for you to step inside first. “Come on. I think a butterbeer or two’ll warm you up.”

Fred’s hand remained on the small of your back, pressing in gently to lead you to a cozy booth in the back. The added warmth felt quite nice, you thought, but you also wondered how he managed to stay like a human furnace when it the weather outside was so dreadfully cold. 

It was hard not to stare at him; catching his gaze every so often while sipping your drink. His hair was all tousled from the frigid winds; you took notice of the way it slightly curled out at the ends, glowing under the hazy yellow bar lights. It was annoyingly endearing how he could look so flawless without any effort and even more so that you didn’t have anything snarky to say. 

“Fred, I think we’re being followed…” you whispered as you scanned the near vicinity, fingers brushing against the rim of your mug. There in the far opposite corner sat Padma, Ernie, Cedric, and Cho, attempting to look nonchalant as if they weren’t half-stalking you but they were doing a rather terrible job at it. You quickly looked away.

“So? Isn’t that what we want—for people to see us?” he countered with a tone of confidence. His voice dropped low as he continued to speak to you. “Why don’t we give them a show? No need to be so private.”

Your face burned. “What do you—”

“Not like that,” he chuckled lowly, “what did you think I meant?”

“I…”

Fred paused, then raised his hand and brushed something off your cheek with his thumb. “You’ve got something on your face.”

“Oh, so we’re playing that game now, are we?”

“Indeed, my lady.”

You scoffed quietly and imitated his motion, reaching up to smooth out the crease that had formed between his brows. “Put a smile on your face, why don’t you? You look better that way.”

“I always look good, though.”

“I look better than your greasy arse.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged. “I’d like to see you tr—”

Before you could say anything else and before he could stop himself from what he was doing, Fred placed a hand on the nape of you neck and pulled you in, kissing you without another word. All protests left behind flew right out the window (along with your morals, too, you thought) and for a split second, it almost didn’t feel like you were pretending at all. 

When you broke apart eventually, breaths a little heavy, neither of you needed to look over to see that your friends were gaping in shock, mouths dropped wide open. Sure, Fred was confident and cocky and you were equally so, but both of you would be lying if you said this didn’t take you by surprise. 

“You still keeping track?” His voice still had that low, almost husky tone to it. He was cupping your cheek now, and you let him keep doing so. “There can only be one victor, right?”

“Wouldn’t forget it,” you exhaled. “You think we look convincing enough right now?”

“Without a shadow of a doubt.”

ix.  the thunderstorm 

The day’s exciting Care of Magical Creatures lesson was cut thirty minutes short due to the heavy downpour that had suddenly came crashing down, bringing with it a booming thunderstorm and soaking all your clothes within minutes. 

“Well, that’s it fer today, everyone,” Hagrid announced, “now let’s head back inside, don’ want yeh to catch a cold, we’ll continue when the weather lets up…”

You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself and flipped the hood on over your head, eyes narrowing as you stared up at the suddenly stormy grey sky. It just had to be on the one day you got to go outside and do something exciting, damn it….

It was freezing, nearly as horrible as that one day in Hogsmeade, and you wanted nothing more in that moment than to simply curl up by the fireplace with Hermione, the Patil twins, and Cho, and talk all evening long. If you could even make it back to the castle in one, unfrozen piece, maybe you’d at least get your hands on some hot chocolate from the kitchens…

A warm hand found yours amidst the strong winds, and all of a sudden you didn’t feel so cold anymore. 

As if he had read your mind, Fred said, “how about we sneak into the kitchens and grab something to drink? Hot chocolate, perhaps?”

“Sounds perfect,” you smiled and he draped an arm over your shoulders, bringing you into his side. It felt so natural now, like this wasn’t part of some long-standing bet to fool the whole school; as if you were just two best friends trying to keep warm in subpar temperatures. And it was almost too easy to get used to it. 

“Oblivious idiots. I told them for years that they’d be perfect together and it’s only this year that they start going out,” George exclaimed from several yards behind, walking side-by-side with Lee Jordan. “Dunno why it took them so long.”

“Love takes time, obviously,” said Lee as he watched Fred lean into your ear and say something, and you giggled lightly in response, “and now, what matters is that I finally have an excuse to make fun of them during Quidditch matches.”

“Oh—good point.”

“And you’ve noticed that he stopped pranking her? Unlike him, isn’t it?” 

“Wait…” George paused as he took in Lee’s questions. His mouth formed an ‘o’ in realization. “He’s utterly whipped, that git.”

“What happens when boyfriend duties overcome prankster duties…this is perfect. Professor Flitwick owes me 2 galleons. I called it that he’d fall first!” 

“You bet on them?” George squawked. “With Flitwick?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t either,” Lee laughed, “I know you did too.”

The expression on George’s face shifted into one of defeat. “I lost,” he muttered, “I owe McGonagall 3 galleons.”

x. verum exeat (let the truth come out) 

The Gryffindor common room was alight with chatter once again. After a long, grueling week of exam revisions, Quidditch practice, and a brutal match to be remembered, Lee and the twins decided that a small celebration was in order. They had originally planned on inviting half the damn school but after arguing with Hermione, had to shrink the party down to just their smaller, usual friend group (they swore up and down that they’d clean up and not get detention like last time, but she wouldn’t buy it). 

But you knew that if things had the Weasley twins’ names pasted next to them, they’d be far from peaceful; as far as you could possibly get—no matter how big or small. 

“Oh, there you are,” you heard someone say from behind, and turned around to see that it was Hermione.

“Not drinking?”

“Someone’s got to take care of the boys after they go wild, right?” she explained. “Besides…I can’t stand the taste of firewhisky. It burns.”

You offered a tired half-smile and agreed. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Hermione seemed to be deep in thought for a moment until she told you, “You’re very lucky, you know.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“To have Fred, that is. To find someone who’s that in love with you, it’s quite rare.” 

“Oh, please,” you tried to suppress a laugh, “I told you why we’re doing what we’re doing.” 

“And?” Hermione raised an eyebrow at you, “feelings change. Bet or no bet, he cares about you and anyone would be crazy not to see that. Ronald is half-blind and he can tell, too. You can’t possibly tell me that everything you’ve done up to this point has been a lie.” 

“It’s meant nothing to me,” you said bitterly. “I hate him.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. And it doesn’t help that he’s everywhere,” you stopped to take a swig of firewhisky, “and I can’t stand it!”

“Do you not, really?”

“I do, but I—”

“You what?”

“I just hate him!” 

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think? I hate everything about him!” you exclaimed, exasperated. “I hate the way he always tries to compete with me, I hate the way he doesn’t take things seriously, I hate that stupid, annoying little smirk he has on his face half the time I see him—”

You inhaled quickly; it felt like you’d just drank an entire vital of Veritaserum with the way that words were tumbling out of your mouth. Hermione gave you a look that seemed to say ‘Go on,’ so you did, “—I hate the way he walks down to the Great Hall every morning with his annoyingly perfect messy hair, I hate the way he risks freezing his arse off to give me his favorite gloves so that I don’t get hypothermia, I hate the way it’s so easy for him to kiss—borderline snog me like it’s nothing, I hate how this is all just supposed to be a game of pretend, and—and most of all, I hate the way he made me fall in love with him without even trying. I hate the way I don't actually hate him. Not even close, not even a little bit…not even at all…”

“You…really mean that?”

You whirled around to see that Fred was standing right behind you with his hands behind his back, eyes hopeful, and you felt your heart drop down to your stomach. “Fred—”

“Y/N, I—”

Suddenly it seemed like the walls were closing in on you from all sides, the room spinning; and then, everything around you jumbled into one chaotic mess of noise and color. Without looking to see either his or Hermione’s reactions, without caring that half the room had stopped to see what was going on, you pushed past your friends and quickly clambered out of the portrait hole. 

“What was that about?” Ron’s nose crinkled in confusion. “So much for being a cute couple. Now this is just sad.”

“Will you shut it, Ronald,” Hermione whacked him on the shoulder. 

“OW—”

“Stop being so dramatic! Don’t let me catch you drinking even one more shot or I will drag your arse back to bed,” she snapped. 

“Pleeeease do, I would lov—ow, ow, OW! OKAY!” Ron exclaimed as she pinched his ear and began dragging him away. “Okay! I’ll leave them alone, I’ll stop…”

Chest heaving and vision blurring with tears, you rushed outside, desperate for a breath of fresh air. It was quiet in the courtyard asides from the faint trickling of water but that did little to calm you down; it was still too loud, too chaotic, too much. Sitting down at the marbled edge of one of the fountains, you tried to catch your breath and balance, but the world still kept spinning…it felt like it wouldn’t stop spinning; for Merlin’s sake. All you wanted to do was crawl into a hole and disappear forever, or jump off the Astronomy tower and fly off to a distant land. You didn’t want to have to worry about how you poured your entire damn heart out in the middle of the common room about your fake boyfriend.

Your fake boyfriend that you realized, with horror, you had begun to develop not-fake feelings for. 

A chill ran through you at that moment and you shivered.

Then the feeling of something warm—a thick coat—being draped over your shoulders shook you out of your trance. You instinctively slid it tighter around yourself.

“Thought I might find you out here,” said Fred. You opened your mouth, ready to ask how in Godric’s name he knew where you were at all times when he didn’t even have the Maurader’s Map anymore, but stopped. This was Fred Weasley, and you had spent an unhealthy amount of time around each other over the past several months that he had to have picked up on your little habits. He was more observant than he let on. 

“What are you doing out here?” You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him. 

“I couldn’t leave you alone outside to freeze, could I?” he asked, sitting down next to you. “What kind of boyfriend would that make me?”

“Please, just…” you inhaled sharply, “I can’t do this. You won. I lost. The game’s over, Weasley.” 

“On a last-name basis now, are we? Ouch,” he said jokingly, but dropped the teasing lilt in his voice when he noticed your eyes starting to water. “Talk to me, Y/N.”

“It just isn’t fair,” you whispered, looking down at your feet. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not fair,’” your voice faltered, “you’re not supposed to do that. To do this.”

“Do what?”

“To sabotage the bet. To make me lose track of the scores.”

“Well, I stopped counting, you know,” Fred admitted, tucking a hair behind your hair. “There’s no need to keep track anymore, I think we’ve done enough convincing, don’t you think?”

“But that’s the problem!” your voice cracked as you finally turned to look at him. “It isn’t that I’m probably going to be dozens of Galleons poorer after this. It’s that I’m feeling something I shouldn’t, that…that you made me fall in love with you—”

“Y/N—”

“—I hate the way I care about you far more than I should,” you continued on, “and I hate myself even more for even wishing what we had was real. Because it was all fake, Fred, and you know it. We were faking it, and—”

“Y/N,” he repeated more sternly this time, causing you to stop mid sentence. “Look, I already told you I stopped keeping track. After that night in the common room….that’s when I realized I couldn’t. Lee damn near had to hit me over the head and force-feed me Veritaserum to admit that I was in deep. Galleons and glory be damned, I didn’t care about any of that anymore; it was easy for me to pretend when I was already in love with you.”

“But we weren’t supposed to fall in love, that was the rule,” you sniffed, wiping a tear from your cheek, “I thought we were supposed to follow the rules.”

Fred’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Well, I think some rules are made to be broken.”

And then, he was closing the gap and connecting your lips in a deep kiss. The gentle motion cut through the chilly evening air, washing over you in a blazing heat that had you melting into a haze of firewhisky, adrenaline, and something that smelled distinctly like a crackling log fire and cinnamon. 

You had kissed him multiple times before this, but this one felt different than all the rest. It didn’t feel like you were doing it for show in the slightest; it felt genuine and warm and so real. 

And the biggest difference was that you never wanted it to come to an end. 

“So?” The grin on his face was palpable; contagious, as you broke apart, “What do you say, we stop faking it?”

“Are you fake breaking up with me?” you gasped and pretended to look surprised. “Way to ruin the moment.”

“I’m asking to real-date you, darling,” he said.

“There’s no money on the line this time?”

“No,” he hummed as he leaned forward to kiss you a second time and pretended to think for a second, “but there might be something else on the line instead.”

“And what is that ‘something else?’”

“You’ll have to wait a few years and see.”

xi. the promise 

—FOUR YEARS LATER—

Fred was a great planner, of course. “Brilliant,” Harry would say, “absolutely brilliant.” He might’ve been a jokester, but he was a very organized jokester. He always knew what he was going to do and when. 

So when it came to you, he thought he had a plan. He thought he had it planned for years; he was thinking fireworks, extravagant displays in the sky, taking you on a sunset ride across Romania on one of Charlie’s dragons. Something to match your free and daring spirit. 

But, the moment ended up presenting itself on its own. 

It was an ordinary night with yours and Hermione’s families joining the Weasleys for a quiet weekend at the Burrow. Mr. Weasley was listening intently as Mr. Granger and Harry explained the function of rubber ducks and the Internet in great detail, and the rest of you chatted with your parents,  Mrs. Weasley, and Mrs. Granger by the kitchen counter about post-graduation plans. 

Mrs. Granger had made an off-hand, passing comment about how lovely your silver bracelet—the one with charms of yours’ and Fred’s initials and Patronuses dangling from it—looked on your wrist. And then Fred was saying, “I know something else that would look great on her,” and taking a small box out of his pocket and flipping it open, revealing a blinding bright, silvery diamond ring. 

Even as shouts of realization and cheers of joy rose up from around the kitchen, the world seemed to fade away into complete silence when he put the ring on your finger and encircled his arms around your torso, kissing your cheek and whispering into your ear, 

“I told you there was something else, didn’t I?” 

tags: @xhanthexzoria @arkofblake @fictionalsimp449 @polar-myst @katelikeslaughs @lmllsl @schlattandcompany

[peppertoastuniverse]

pep reads: fluffiest fluff edition

I've just been CONSUMING so many jjk fanfics... here are the softest fluffiest fic recommendations since I think we all need it right now. This list is in no particular order – there's so many talented writers out there! These ones just made me MELT extra hard. Mostly no smut, I just needed to be held.

gojo satoru

☆ only you by Kaiseriin [A03: mini series] [status: unknown] [Cursed speech!reader] Other than Gojo, not many people understand the sign language you use to communicate as a cursed speech user. When some students from Kyoto arrive, one tries to learn so he can get closer to you.

☆ summer skies, winter lies by miyaspudding [A03: long fic!][status: ongoing]

"how cruel was fate? how much had he sinned in his past life, for the woman he loved to belong to his best friend? how little did god love him?"

in which gojo satoru learns that emotions are not weaknesses but consolations; and geto suguru realizes that he's always been a little too late for everything. because the furthest distance is an inch away, and the furthest thing from truth is "just friends".

☆best of luck. by reinerispretty [A03: one shot! part of a mini series] [status: unknown] In which Gojo Satoru shows up unannounced, twice.

☆Ah, you were both equally idiotic by Hiroka [A03: mini series] [status: unknown]

4 times others realized something was going on between Gojo and you, and 0 times you both realized it.

[Oneshots from the Old Beats Cinematic Universe]

☆ For A God, Shopping Is a New Adventure by Bun_sun [AO3] [status: on going!] [Baker!reader]

“Would you like anything else?” “Actually, yeah.” He flashes you a grin that only promises trouble, pushing his sunglasses down with a way too exaggerated flirty expression. “Can I get your number too?” “Haha, really funny Gojo. Now, I have more clients so...” But he's already getting his phone out, as if he hasn't listened to a single word you've said. “...Oh, you're for real.” ~ ~ ~ ~ Reader owns a small cafe with their own baked goods. Gojo comes in one day, and absolutely falls in love with their pastries (and with them).

☆ I Want to Kiss You / キスしたい by arminsumi [A03][status: unknown]

You and Satoru falling in love despite a language barrier.

You've come to visit Japan to meet these two boys you met online. Though Satoru can't speak English and you can't speak Japanese, the two of you still fall in love. There's seems to be romantic tension between you and Suguru, too.

geto suguru

it's so hard to find suguru fics without him being used as a plot device for gojo

☆ gentle glow / deep thought by waffiez [AO3: one shot] [status: completed] "I thought about you, you know." Despite the softness of his voice, it cut through the otherwise silent atmosphere profoundly and made your heart skip a beat. "Is that so?" "It is." ☆☆☆ in which you awake to your best friend suguru asleep at the edge of your bed, having returned from a lengthy mission and only really wanting to see you.

☆ unnamed drabble by @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat [tumblr: drabble] [status: completed]

comfy fluff w sleepy needy sugu <33)

☆ Wash It Away by @shadowsandshapes [A03/tumblr: drabble][status: completed]

Sometimes you forget Geto is just a guy. But then he shows a sense of vulnerability that surprises you. After a particularly emotionally draining battle, you run him a warm bath and take care of his aches. ☆ Wisteria and Ciabatta by @hayakawalove [A03/tumblr: mini fic!][status: completed, chapter 2 has smut!]

Traveling merchant Suguru has led a relatively tame life thus far. Growing his flowers, baking his bread. One day, when he ventures out further than normal he comes across something more beautiful than all the flowers in the world. You. ☆ the paint doesn't move the way the light reflects by @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat [tumblr: long oneshot!] [status: completed]

bonus!

☆ Digest Your Feelings (DYF) – First Years! by @whalesforhands [A03/tumblr: part of a longer series of fics] [status: completed] new classmates, new life, new friends(?). a look into the life of the dyf au characters in their first year.

[chuulyssa]

drunk and driven. (light yagami)

↷ A/N ─ happy belated birthday to light and me !! i hope you enjoy this :) again, this is NOT rape/non-con. the reader is as sober as light here. written by a zombie-me at 4am. also im sorry if the camera topic is overused, i just couldnt help myself fantasizing about this

★ COUNT ─ 2.5k

!! TAGS ─ f!reader, dom!light, drinking, smut, fingering, spanking, unprotected sex, p in v, nicknames (good girl, pretty girl, etc.), edging, begging kink, voyeurism

★ PROLOGUE ─ your boyfriend punishes you for almost letting slip his real identity

SMUT, 18+, MDNI

The dim glow of the television cast shadows around the room. You had been at your high school's farewell party, and had too many drinks there to stumble back home in one piece. It was almost midnight, so there was also no way your boyfriend, Light Yagami, would have let you out of his sight, especially with how tipsy you were. He was quite protective of you, but he was right. You let out a drunk sigh and looked away, silently accepting the fact that you'd have to meet his parents in the morning and share a few awkward exchanges.

Light had had more drinks than you at the party, but he looked far from as drunk as you currently were. He was quietly watching a movie on the TV, stroking your hair lightly. Your gaze went up from Light to the flickering screen. A sudden surge of courage rushed through you.

"Light," you whispered, breaking the silence with your hoarse voice.

"No, you're not going home tonight," Light replied without looking at you.

"No, it's not that," you said frustratedly.

Light raised his eyebrows, hearing you slur your words due to the effects of the alcohol. Still, he did not look at you.

"How much did you drink?"

"Less than what you drank," your throat burned, your eyes drooping slightly.

He ignored you, seemingly engrossed in the movie, but you knew it was all just an act for the cameras L had set up.

You continued, "And it doesn't matter how much I drank, because either way, you refuse to give me attention."

Ryuk snickered in the corner.

Light frowned, finally turning his attention towards you as his eyes trailed down your body. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the redness of your cheeks, and the slight swaying of your body.

He looked at you for a few more seconds with a calculating look before sighing and setting the remote on his table. He stood up, "You should really get some sleep."

"No," you repeated.

"I-" Light was starting to get annoyed. "Are you crazy? Don't you want to go home tomorrow?"

"I just- I-" You sighed again, leaning back against your chair and almost falling off.

"Idiot," Light muttered, catching you before you fell. He carried you to his bed and lay you down gently before covering you with his blanket. "Are you comfortable? Do you want me to sleep on the floor?"

"No, no, I need cuddles," you smiled drunkenly, completely forgetting what you were going to say back when you had gotten some "courage".

"Of course, you do," Light said proudly. "You need my cuddles to sleep."

You hummed in response. As he snottily took his shirt off before lying down next to you, you closed your eyes slightly. They were burning, as if trying to stop you from both closing them and keeping them open.

His hands made their way to your back, gently pushing your neck to his bare chest. You finally shut your heavy eyelids and snuggled closer to him. This was what you always wanted. Just you and Light. Alone.

You furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes still tightly shut, your face pressed against him. Alone? It was laughable that you thought even for a moment that you two were alone right now. Well, for one, there was a God of Death in the same room as you, trying not to pass out from the lack of apples in his digestive system. Second, a great detective was watching the two of you, possibly along with your boyfriend's own father.

Light pulled you even closer to him, inhaling your scent deeply. Soon, the two of you drifted off to dreamland, and L was left questioning whether the seventeen-year-old star student really was a murderer.

You woke up, limbs tangled with Light's. You checked your wristwatch. About four hours had passed, and as you tried to sit up, your head felt heavy from an early hangover. Light's eyes jerked open. He had always been a light sleeper.

"Hm?" he mumbled in his sleep, no longer feeling the presence of your head in the crook of his neck. "What's the matter, honey?"

"I... had a dream," you said slowly.

"Nightmare?"

"Kinda."

Light sat up slowly and reached out for a glass of water to hand to you.

You peeked into the glass, rubbing your left eye until you saw stars.

"Vodka?" you said hopefully.

"Water," he replied calmly.

You pouted pleadingly; more alcohol was what you needed right now, but you eventually had to resign to your boyfriend. You drank the water, and instantly felt much more sober than you were before. Your sleepy eyes fell on Ryuk, his legs and hands in a rather uncomfortable position, perhaps due to not having apples for such a long time.

For a moment, you, for the second time that night, completely forgot about the existence of the cameras.

You turned to Light. "How long is he going to go without apples?"

"Who, honey?" Light's eyes flashed warningly, but you were far too sleepy to notice.

"Ryuk, your Shini-"

Your words were cut off by a sharp kiss. Light had completely thrown himself at you, and you fell back down on the bed due to the sheer force of his abrupt kiss. The empty glass landed on the floor with a loud clink, but he ignored it. His hands reached under your shirt, his nails digging into the skin of your hips as if daring you to talk further.

You attempted to prop yourself up on your elbows, to gain some kind of control over what was happening. But Light pushed you back down, pulling you by your hips and roughly throwing your head down on the pillow.

He pulled away eventually, the pupils of his eyes completely red, and you cursed yourself mentally. This was not your Light. This was Kira.

He leaned away from you, got up to pick up the thrown glass and filled it with water again, but as he offered it to you, you rejected it. "I'm sober enough for this, Light."

"Very well then," Light whispered and leaned in closer to your ear. "I hope you remember you're being watched. Make sure you put on a show."

You nodded slowly, letting his hands roam around and make their way to the hem of your skirt, twirling the fabric around his fingers. He brought another hand to your top and slid it under the cloth, feeling the material of your satin bra.

"The one I gifted to you?" he raised his eyebrows, a little smirk on his face.

"Yes," you whispered, pulling his bare chest against your clothed one. "Strip me, Light."

"What's the magic word?" he teased, hand slipping under your bra and cupping your breast.

"Please," you whimpered when he pinched your nipple.

Ryuk snapped his eyes open and tumbled out of the room clumsily, perhaps to give you some privacy.

"Good girl," he didn't hide his smirk this time as he pulled your top off completely, throwing it to the side where it landed on his chair next to his own shirt. He ran his hands down your back, grabbing the zipper of your skirt and slowly pulling it down. Light slid the skirt down your legs, leaving you in a matching set of satin underwear and bra.

"Pretty," he murmured, his hand grasping his growing bulge tightly.

"Let me help you with that," you sat up on all fours and leaned in closer, a hand stretched out to touch his crotch.

You rubbed him lightly, slowly increasing your pace before unbuckling his belt and slipping your hand under his boxers. Your constant touching of his tip made him groan, hand reaching out to yank you by your hair and push you back down to the bed. You grabbed his hands and brought them to your breasts, pressing them against your chest.

"Take my bra off."

"I'm not a man to be told what to do," he said, bringing his lips down to your neck. "But I will allow it this time."

Light freed his hands from your grip and brought them to your back, unclasping the hook of your bra and letting it fall to the floor. He cupped your breasts in his hands, lowering himself so that his mouth sucked on one nipple while his hand squeezed the other.

"Fuck," you moaned, pushing his head against your chest.

He grabbed your hand and brought it once more to his crotch, letting you feel the bulge in his pants again.

"You're not the only one who's needy right now."

"You're so- god, I can't wait to feel you inside me," you said, rubbing his dick through the fabric.

"Patient girls are rewarded," he said, dragging his lips from your neck to your collarbone, his free hand ripping your panties off.

"Hey!" you whisper-screamed.

"I'll buy you another set," he said calmly, sliding two fingers inside you, curling them up and hitting your g-spot.

"Yes," you moaned, pushing his hand against your pussy. "Faster."

He brought his other hand from your nipple to your clit and started rubbing it in circles, simultaneously fucking you with his fingers.

"Fuck, I'm going to come," you whimpered after a few minutes, feeling your orgasm build.

"Mhm, do it, what a good girl," he said, rubbing your clit faster, aiding your release. You came hard on his fingers, arching your back, bucking against his hand and moaning loudly. Your legs shook, while he pulled his fingers out of your pussy and brought them to your mouth. "Clean them."

You nodded, sucking on his fingers, your teeth digging into his skin. Light smirked.

"Don't you think you should be punished?"

"Huh-? For what, Li-?"

Your words were cut off once again when he pulled you onto his lap so that your ass faced him and you lay on your stomach, pussy pressed against his crotch.

_ _ _ _

"L, I don't think we should be watching this," Soichiro Yagami kept his eyes away from the screen, where his son, his perfect little son, was busy fingering his girlfriend. He hadn't even known he had a girlfriend, let alone the fact that they were so... intimate with each other.

"There has to be some meaning in what the girl said," L racked his brains, eyes scanning the scene, now showing you in Light's lap and his hand rubbing your ass. "Apples?"

"For god's sake, it may be some sort of safeword for when they- for when they do- this," Soichiro yelled, his eyes on the floor.

"It's not a mere coincidence, Mr Yagami," L said thoughtfully. "Apples? Kira told me 'Shinigamis' loved apples earlier. This is not a coincidence, Mr Yagami."

_ _ _ _

"You're going to be punished for fucking everything up," he whispered in your ear before smacking your ass hard. "Count."

"One!" you yelped, feeling the sting of his hand on your ass. "Two!" "Three!" "Four!" "Five!"

He kept spanking you, alternating between your ass cheeks. You could feel his dick hard against your stomach, and ignoring the pain in your ass, you started to grind against it.

"Six!" "Seven!" "Eight!"

He spanked you harder, and you could feel your ass getting red. You were breathing heavily, and your pussy was so wet that it was dripping onto his lap.

"Nine! Ten!"

_ _ _ _

"Can we stop watching this now?" Soichiro groaned.

"There has to be some hint," L traced the screen with his fingers which showed you getting spanked hard by Light now.

Soichiro let out an uncomfortable sigh.

"Mr Yagami, you can close your ears and eyes," L said without looking away from the screen.

_ _ _ _

"Good girl," Light said, rubbing your ass. "Now, a reward."

He slid his pants and boxers down to his legs and wiggled out of them. He brought his dick to your pussy, rubbing its head against your clit and earning a moan from your pursed lips. He flipped you over, pinning you under him on the bed again as he continued to tease you.

"Please, Light," you begged, trying to reach out for his dick so you could push it in.

"Please what?" he said sweetly and you groaned in annoyance.

"Please fuck me."

He smiled and pushed his dick inside you slowly, savouring every inch of your tight pussy.

"Oh!" you wailed, feeling his cock stretch your pussy.

He started bucking his hips in and out, fucking you harder as his balls slapped against your clit, doubling the pleasure. He was careful not to make a sound, but he didn't stop you from letting your strangled moans out. This would be your punishment, facing his mother in the morning after getting fucked so hard by him at night.

You tried very hard to suppress your lustful sounds, eyes welling up at the thought of facing his family in a few hours, but you couldn't. He was too good. He knew just how to get under your skin. Slowly, you felt your second orgasm approaching.

"Ah, ah! I want to come," you clasped your hand against your mouth to stop yourself from screaming. He was going so hard on you, of course, his mother and his sister would wake up if he continued.

"No, you're not. Hold it in," Light commanded. "You're going to come when I say so."

He kept fucking you harder, and you could feel your orgasm building. This was torture. There was no way you could hold yourself in when he was going so hard on you.

"Please, Light," you begged, feeling your pussy clench around his dick. "I can't hold it in anymore."

"Hold it in, I said," he said, flipping you over again and spanking your ass hard. He increased his speed, and you buried your head in a pillow to muffle your screams. "I'm going to come inside you now. Understood?"

You could feel his cock twitching inside you, and you knew he wasn't lying about his orgasm. You nodded slowly, voice still distant because of the pillow.

He let out a long, satisfied groan as he released his juices inside you, pushing his dick deep inside you. You could feel his cum filling your pussy, and it sent you over the edge.

"Now, come for me, pretty girl," Light said in a hoarse voice.

"Yes!" you screamed, feeling your orgasm wash over you. His cum was dripping out of your pussy, and you could feel his cock softening inside you.

"Good," he said, pulling his cock out of you. It was scary how calm and composed he was when a minute ago, he had spanked you so hard. He grabbed a towel and wiped your pussy clean.

_ _ _ _

Soichiro blinked at the abrupt ending of the sounds. Still refusing to look up at the screen, he asked, "Is it over now?"

"They're both still naked," L said, analyzing the place, feeling his own dick harden at your bare figure, panting and sweating as Light got off you and laid next to you, throwing the towel somewhere insignificant.

"Well then?" Soichiro said.

"Well what?"

"You made me watch my son... doing- doing stuff with his girlfriend," Soichiro said in a shaky voice, his hands behind his back to avoid pulling his hair out in frustration. "What have you understood from this?"

"What I've understood?" L said thoughtfully, his gaze unconsciously reaching his growing bulge. "Your son is quite romantic, I suppose."

© chuulyssa, 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[alexa-yukiyu]

Can u do one where mihawk becomes a single father to a baby girl that he got alittle before zoro came to the island can u just show how mihawk would raise her how would persona and zoro would view her mihawk would use zoro as a babysitter sometimes if the nanny is unavailable and zoro would use her to exercise and mihawk find out hes been doing that and basically beats his ass

Like Father like daughter ft Mihawk Perona and Zoro

A/N I like how this one turned out and that idea that you sent in later (im not sure if it’s the same anon, gonna have to ask yall to start labeling yourselves 😅) was such a good idea, I think it’s what gave me the idea to where I wanted the fic to go 👍🏼.

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc characters readers!

Consider Buying me a coffee!

“Why are we supposed to take care of her?” Zoro grumbled as he rocked the small cradle.

“Because I refuse to have a bunch of baboons take care of such a darling!” Perona cooed, watching the slumbering infant

Dracule Dokucha, the daughter of Dracule Mihawk, when they first realized the existence of the girl, the loud pair had been shocked beyond belief. Such a stoic guy with a baby? Him? The one who slashed boats in half and sank entire fleets simply because his sleep was disturbed was a father?

It had taken a while to digest, but after a while, they had both accepted it as the usual. Despite his reputation, the man was quite a talented father. He was always up to date with the baby’s hygiene and had never been late to a bottle feeding; not to mention that he had a skilled hand for gardening and sending that straight to the kitchen. At ten months old, the infant had already been exposed to a myriad of flavors and would surely grow to have an extravagant palate like her father.

Despite what came out of his mouth, Zoro had a soft spot for children. Not only that, but he had quite the aptitude for dealing with them, something that everyone but him had long since realized. But even he had to admit that Dokucha was quite a unique child. Young as she was, she was as stubborn as his father. She had one hell of a personality, and he had seen it firsthand.

“Oh! She’s waking up!” Perona cheered, peaking closer as the baby began to fidget, her eyelids growing tighter before they finally opened, seemingly spooked by the proximity of the pink-haired girl and started crying. Loudly.

“You idiot! You scared her,” Zoro hissed as he picked up the girl, hoping to cease the loud wailing.

“Don’t call me an idiot!” She gaped

Zoro rolled his eyes, holding his retort as he turned his attention to the wailing baby and began to try to sway her back to sleep. After a few minutes, he had managed to calm the wailing, but she was still one very unhappy baby. Perhaps it was retribution for such a rude awakening, just like her father, or maybe it was just baby instincts that drove her to reach for the closest thing she could grab onto: Zoro’s hair.

“Gah! For being a baby, you have one hell of a grip!” He cried as he tried to escape her grip

“Bah! Bah! Bah,” Dokucha angrily babbled, tightening her tiny fists and beginning to pull.

“Why you little-

“Ha! That’s what you get for being such an uncute brute!” Perona cackled, swooping in and taking hold of the baby; yet Dokucha gave her the same treatment she had given the swordsman, causing the Devil-fruit user to let out a yelp as she released the girl attempting to escape her grip.

“Watch out!” Zoro called, jumping to catch the falling baby, letting out a sigh as she landed safely in his arms. Straightening up, he sat cross-legged on the grass and brought her closer to his lap, watching hesitantly for any move she would make. But it seemed the baby had been satisfied with the punishment she had delivered earlier as she made herself comfortable, an angry pout still on her face.

“Bah-dah-bah! Gah goo bah!” she rambled, pointing in the direction of the ghost girl. Aggressively waving her arm, she continued to lay it on the ghost girl.

“Agh!” Perona cried, horrified that the girl had grown angry at her as she landed.

“Here!” she called, pulling out a small piece of bread and offering it to the infant.

Upon seeing the small treat, Dokucha paused her ramblings, crawling over and out of Zoro’s shakily toddling her way to Perona until she was close enough to snatch the small treat from her.

“So we’re good?” Perona asked hopefully

“Dah,” the baby replied happily, munching on the bread.

“Ah!” Perona exclaimed, lighting up. Perona called, scooping the girl into her arms and elevating both of them into the air as she spun her around. A grin left her as the baby let out screams of delight.

It didn’t come as a surprise when the Ghost Princess had grown enamored with the young girl, after all, what’s better than a cute stuffed teddy bear? A baby! She was not a fan of the care behind having to take care of a baby, but being able to dress up such a cute thing in anything she wished? Well, that made up for all the other extra tasks that came with Dokucha. From frilly dresses to adorable bear onesies, the baby did not fall short on outfits when the self-appointed Aunt Perona came into the picture.

“Seriously?! All you need is a piece of bread, and you forget she almost dropped you?!” Zoro was accused, baffled, staring at the giggling girls.

“As if you’re one to talk!” Perona exclaimed, diving in front of the man, a manicured hand accusingly pointing at him.

“Did you forget who was the one who took her for your barbaric training, I bet you were using her for some of that stupid training!” She screeched

“Bah gah!” Dokucha agreed

“I needed to continue my training! She was perfectly safe. And why are you complaining?! You slept through the whole thing!” He excused, gaping at the audacity of both girls.

“Dah-gah!”

“You-

“So this is what the two of you are up to when you watch my daughter?” An unamused voice cut in, causing the blood to drain from the squabbling pair, and a gleeful string of babbles from the youngest.

“Ah!” Perona yelped as the infant began struggling in her arms which urged her to place her on the ground watching as she happily crawled to the warlord who scooped her from the ground, a pleased look on his face as he put her on his hip; gaze lifting towards the frozen pair who flinched at the sharp look the man sent their way.

“Now then, it seems you two need a reminder on how a baby is cared for appropriately.”

Mihawk let out a sigh. Not too long ago, he had been aroused from his sleep by his girl's gentle babbling. He had thought that she had simply woken up for a short time and would go back to sleep momentarily. After all, she wasn’t fussing, and this was quite normal. However, this time, it seemed she had no intention of going back to sleep.

With this realization, he removed himself from the bed and approached the small cradle in the room, looking at the girl with an unamused frown, at which she giggled and reached up for him.

“I believe I am allowing you too much time with those two; you didn’t fuss like this before,” he called, picking her up.

“Pa! Bah-Gah!” She babbled back

“You are going to grow up to be quite the hassle, you know?” He said as he slowly made his way to the living room.

“Mah?”

“Yes, you.”

“Gah-boo! Eeey!” she replied, and if he didn’t know any better, he would have said she sounded almost offended.

“Come on, I am certain I can prepare something for us to eat. You are most definitely not going to sleep, and I can already tell you will not allow me to either,” he said, rolling his eyes as she babbled happily in what seemed to be unabashed agreement.

Up next is Trans Dokucha with Whitebeard, I do have to do a but of research and beta reading for that one 🤔

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

@epochal-oracle

[mooooonnnzz]

holy shit world/insure made me sob. would you consider doing a part two ? i’m imagining stan and ford telling dipper and mable childhood stories with the reader. they’re vague about it, saying stuff like “they aren’t here anymore” so the twins just think read died. then reading coming back through the portal and they connect the dots. omfg i’m obsessed with this concept.

Word/Insured Part 2

Stanford Pines x Sibling!Reader/Stanley Pines x Sibling!Reader

☆ GUESS WHO FINISSHHHEDDDD!!!

☆ this'll have 2 parts so it's easier to digest, since it's lawnngg so if it abruptly ends, that's just me splitting it

☆ 4,5k words

☆ gender-neutral reader

☆ possible tw: drinking to cope, mentions of suicide, gagging and descriptive chewing? and just angst

☆ srry this lowk kinda took long to write both keyboard and mouse just died on me when i was writing this so i had to find an old keyboard oops

☆ if this does well, i'm considering on making hcs of reader adjusting back to their home dimensions and diving deep into the twins n their trauma !!

☆ that's all. i hope you all enjoy! :3

✶ Stan and Ford hadn’t talked to each other since your disappearance. The anger and hatred that Stan held onto was enough to deter him from even granting a glance at Ford who tirelessly tried to get Stan to talk to him. He’d begin the conversation with ideas he’s thought through the night prior, ideas that most likely secured a chance on bringing you back. But Stan wanted nothing to do with him. His head was shrouded with your screams, the way you yelled out for Stan instilled such a soul-crushing guilt on Stan; he wasn’t sure he’d properly function as a normal human being after this. Not to mention, you and Stan were two peas in a pod, spending 10 years together after the collapse of their family truly brought the pair together, closer than they’d ever thought they would be. And now Stan is going through the same grief he felt when he was kicked out of the house, Ford doing nothing but sparing a sorrowful glance to him as he shouted for his brother, anticipating Ford to do something; to clean his name and everything would go back to normal. But instead, he turned his back on him. The situations were massively different but the pain was eerily still the same. 

✶ Stan would spend majority of his nights clutching your belongings close to his chest. He didn’t care if it looked weird, those were the only things that he had left of you at the moment. Nights were spent crying himself to sleep, envisioning different scenarios where he had caught onto your wrist and pulled you back to the ground, where it was safe, where he was there to protect you. He couldn’t let his mind linger on the idea of you being stranded in another dimension, helpless and lost, not knowing what to do or where to go. The mere thought of it sends his heart crumbling down to his palms, all shredded and shattered beyond repair. He was your big brother, he was supposed to protect you. To keep you safe from harm's way, he betrayed that very promise by leading you to the place where you were taken away from him too soon. And that alone gutted him. Ford would hear Stan sobbing into the night and all he did was lay there in his bed, submitting himself to the torture to hear his brother’s wretched cries. Because, this was his fault. Stan wasn’t shy to tell him that almost every waking moment of the day when he has the chance. The guilt haunts him.

✶ Verbal arguments were pretty common between the pair. Stan mainly started them when he was pulled out of the haze he was in and roughly back to reality. A reality where you weren’t around anymore and that irked him, because who else was at fault other than his idiotic brother? “Do you ever wonder how more lively this house would have been if ya hadn’t pushed [Name] inside the portal?” His tone was harsh. They carried thick venom to them, his words permanently burning their way into Ford’s brain. “Not this again,” Ford’s heart quivered. He had just recollected himself from yesterday's fight and now Stan wants to barrel through another one? Ford avoided Stan’s glaring eye contact. “Stanley, I told you many times before. I’m sorry! I’m sorry for screwing up, I’m sorry for being the reason why [Name] isn’t here anymore.” Ford’s head tilted back, his eyes staring longingly at the ceiling. “You don’t know how much this eats at me, Stanley.” He blinks away the tears threatening to escape, his head lowering back down to meet Stan’s fiery stare. “But I beg of you, please. Don’t hate me for it. I can’t lose you again, not after losing [Name].” The look in Ford’s eyes was something Stan would never be able to forget, no matter how hard he tried. He looked so broken, so shattered, the shell of someone who once was a prodigy at everything he touched was now crushed to bits; pieces of him scattered, lost to time. Stanley’s anger faded into a mellow irritation. Shifting his hands awkwardly on his chest, his face softened ever so slightly. “Fine,” He grumbled, rushing past Ford, their shoulders roughly rocking against each other. Ford sniffed, wiping the tears off his face. This was a new development. A spark of hope flickered in Ford. 

✶ Alcohol and cigars were Stan’s life vest. He’d rob a few packs of beer and down them within two days. It wasn’t healthy, but at least it distracted him from everything that was happening, right? Stan was pretty much drunk every day, and if he wasn’t, he was out on the porch smoking cigars, hoping that one day Ford would find him dead on the floor with beer cans surrounding him, his last moments spent thinking about how much he missed you. Stan wasn’t an angry drunk much to Ford’s surprise, considering how he spent his times where he was sober yelling at Ford, rather he’d rot away on the couch or floor, silently crying to himself in a puddle of his own tears. Many times Ford would have to pick up Stan, rest him on the couch and try to sober him up. And it wasn’t an easy task to do, picking up Stan with his weak arms was a workout for Ford. “Why couldn’t I save them?” Stank drunkenly babbled out, his head swaying side to side. “Don’t move too much, Stanley. You’ll give yourself a headache.” Ford warned, propping his head up with a pillow. “If I wasn’t so slow, [Name] would still be here.” Stan hiccups, his eyes glistening with tears. No matter how many times Ford hears Stan painfully talking about you, it still hurts the same and even more. “It’s not your fault, Stan.” Ford said, pulling a blanket up to his chest. “It’s not yours either.” Stan’s hand patted Ford on his face, thinking that it was his head. When Stan pulled his hands away, tears were streaking down Ford’s cheek. Hearing Stan tell him that it wasn’t his fault healed a piece of him and that quickly triggered the waterworks. “There, there, brother.” Stan patted Ford’s back as he sobbed into his hands. “It’s not my fault,” He repeated in loud sobs. “It’s not your fault.” Stan echoes. 

✶ Ford handled his grief and stress by huddling himself in the lab, isolating himself from Stan’s drunken state and researching his work. Trying to find loopholes that he can tie them close with a workaround, with a quick fix that would bring you back. Cans of beer were discarded around his lab, just the same as upstairs. But he wasn’t downing beers like Stan, he chugged one or two to dull out the ache in his heart, to keep it from distracting him. He knew when to stop and limit himself. He wasn’t dependent on alcohol. Sleep was something Ford considered useless. That would only distract him from his work, from his progress. Stan walked into the lab, puffing a gray smoke of air out onto the air. Your absence has bestowed so much despair onto the pair and he hadn’t realized until this very moment. Walking over to Ford, he placed a hand on his back. He was messily sleeping on top of his work, glasses hanging off his face, mouth open, drool dribbling down to his arms and paper. His dark circles were so dark and he was unshaven, chin stubbly with hair. Has he been getting any sleep? He wouldn’t know because he’s always drinking the day away. Stan internally groaned at himself. Not only has been neglecting himself, he’s been neglecting his brother. Burning out the cigar, he grabbed a blanket from upstairs and draped it over Ford. “Sleep tight, Stanford.” He said, gingerly squeezing his arm. Stan sat right next to him, wanting to keep him company and dozed off. When morning came, Ford awoke to Stan’s head colliding with his chair. For that one morning, Stan’s snores were music to his ears. 

✶ “S-Stanley!” Ford’s body lunges up from the couch when he sees Stan briskly pass by him and into the kitchen. “I-I’ve done some research and I-I think I found a way to get [Name] back!” He stumbles over his words, the lack of sleep weighing heavily on his foggy brain. The only thing that is keeping him up as of now is coffee he had been taking in shots for the past few days. The way he moves is fidgety and erratically and Stan takes notice of that. Pouring a cup of coffee for himself in a mug, he leans his back against the counter. “You need sleep, Stanford.” He brings the rim of the mug to his lips, his eyes never leaving Ford’s trembling figure as he takes a big gulp from his coffee. Ford couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Stan spoke to him! It was measly four words, but that’s more than he has ever said in the past five months, that wasn’t angry nonsensical words that were being thrown at him or depressing drunken babbling. “No, there’s so much to be done.” Ford runs a hand through his unkempt hair. “You need to hear me out. We need to find the other two–” Stan shushes him. “I won’t talk to you until ya sleep, Stanford. Don’t you bother trying to back out from this.” He looks at Ford with a stern expression, almost the same one Mom wore whenever he warned Ford to not do anything stupid in the backyard with Stan. “B-But!” Stan doesn’t hear his weak objections, he’s already out of the kitchen before Ford can conjure a good enough excuse. With a groan, Ford trips over his own feet while he makes his way back to the couch. Pushing all his research and books off the couch and onto the floor, he topples over the couch. When his head crashes on the soft plush of his sofa, his body automatically shuts off, revealing how dangerously tired he was. His eyes fluttered close and it didn’t take long for him to crash out on the couch. Stan came in to check on Ford and was pleasantly pleased to see his twin at last getting the rest he deserved. 

✶ Clinking his fork idly on the ceramic plate, Stan watched Ford make breakfast. Originally Stan was going to prepare breakfast, but Ford saw he was cooking and pushed him out of the kitchen, telling him that it was “his treat,” Stan couldn’t even utter a single word to him. He just wanted simple scrambled eggs and toast and now he’s left to fear for his life as Ford concocts a science experiment for his breakfast. “And for you breakfast, Stanley.” Ford swoops in, leaning forward as he shuffles the plate of food onto the table. “Scrambled eggs and buttered toast,” Ford smiles knowingly, placing his breakfast down. He had the same breakfast but the crust of his toast was cut off. “I don’t even know why I doubted you.” Stan scoops up the scrambled eggs with his fork and shoves it in his mouth with giddy excitement, a display of emotions Ford hadn’t seen in over 10 years. Who knew a simple breakfast would get him so happy? “Still being a baby about the crust?” He points to Ford’s crustless buttered toast with his fork, mouth muffled with food still being chewed in his mouth. Ford cringes at the sight of mashed up food in Stan’s mouth, suppressing a gag as he nods his head. “Chew your food before talking, Stanley! We’re not kids anymore.” He rasps out, his palm covering his mouth, his body shuddering with full body heaves. “Alright, alright!” With a loud gulp, he swallows his scrambled eggs. “Happy now?” Said Stan with a roll of his eyes. “Maybe not,” Using his other hand, Ford pushes the plate of eggs away. “Don’t want to eat anymore,” Stan shrugs, pouring the scrambled eggs on the plate. “More for me!” As Stan is chowing down on his eggs, Ford regains his composure. Though, he couldn’t watch Stan eat his eggs without the image of the yellow goopy food in his mouth so he averted his gaze to his hands. 

✶ “[Name] sure had grown up the last time I saw them.” This was Ford’s feeble attempt at sprouting a conversation with Stan, but he soon regretted what he said when he realized the fragility of the topic. Stan blinks, stunned. A beat passes and Ford’s ready to divert the conversation to another topic when Stan replies with a weird look on his face Ford can’t quite catch. “Well, yeah,” Stan looks off to the side. Ford lets out a breath of relief, Stan wasn’t upset at the mention of you. “They left with me when you and Dad kicked me out and we haven’t seen each other since then.” There’s a distant look in his eyes when he speaks, his words carrying a light anger to them ever so slightly. “How were th–” Stan shoots up, the chair skidding behind him. “Just because we’re all chummy now doesn’t mean you get to ask all about [Name].” The sudden shift in his emotions slapped Ford right in his face. “I’m sorry.” Ford whispers. Stan clicks his tongue, uttering to himself before shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry.” Stan rubs the sides of his head with his fingers. “Let’s not talk about them right now, okay? I don’t think I’m ready yet.” Stan pulls the chair to him and sits down. He rests his head on his fist, eyebrows pinched together with a long frown on his face. “I didn’t mean to blow up on ya like that.” Stan looks Ford in the eyes, and he could see the sincere sadness swimming in his eyes. “It’s okay, Stanley. Why don’t we talk about what you do for a living?” With that, they eased themselves into a comfortable conversation, with a few hiccups here and there, but in the end, the twins both had a soft smile adoring their faces.

✶ The repairing of the portal was a stepping stone that repaired Ford’s and Stan’s relationship. They weren’t going to lie and say that their relationship now was perfect, they still had their moments of anger and differences, but with a lot and a lot of patience, their bond was soon regaining its spark. “Whaddya think, poindexter?” Stan slapped a sloppily written plan on how to fix the portal in front of Ford. “What is this?” Ford looked at the piece of paper like it was garbage. “A plan to fix the portal, isn’t it obvious?” Stan snatched his paper back up, eyes speedily reading his work, doubting his work. “Stanley, that is unnecessary. I have the blueprints to fix the portal.” Discarding his plan, he slapped his hands enthusiastically, rubbing them together. “Alright! So where are they?” Ford sucks in a breath. “In the other journals.” Stan nodded his head slowly, as if that information was already obvious. “And where are the other journals?” Ford coughs into his fist, speedily saying; “I hid them.” Stan looks at him weirdly. “Can’t we just unhide them?” Ford rubs a hand up against his prickly cheek. “That’s the thing. I may or may not remember where I hid them.” Closing his eyes, he braced for the gust of angry yelling. “you WHAT?!” Stan’s hands flew to the side of his head. “How do you forget where you put them?!” Stan made a mental note to mark down how many times Ford screwed up, so far he has two. He has a long way to go before he could be anywhere near Stan’s record. “I was in a flurry of panic! I wasn’t thinking straight.” Stan groaned, smacking his face with his hand. “Was it at least in Gravity Falls?” Stan had his fingers crossed. “Yes, obviously.” A triumph “Yes!” leaves Stan. “Okay, let’s get digging then!” 

✶ Stan severely underestimated how truly difficult it would be finding one of the books in a forest that seemed like it stretched out for miles. Every turn looks the same and whenever he’d think he’s making progress, he’s right back where he started, at least he thinks he is. Frustrated, he bangs his head on a tree. The sound of metal clanging rang in his ears and shook through the tree. He groaned, holding his head with one hand as he curiously examined the possible metal tree. “Stanley!” Ford came running to Stan’s side, panting heavily. He wasn’t used to running for more than 5 seconds, and that was evidently proven with his flushed face and out of breath wheezes. “This tree is metal,” Stan notes, taking a few steps back, winding his leg back and hammering his shoe into the tree. The tree simply shook, the metal sound nowhere to be heard. “What?” Stan can feel his brain heating up, he couldn’t make any sense of this. The tree he kicked felt like a tree, not some metal contraption. It was only when he knocked his head—An idea springs to mind. Leaning his head back, he slammed his head on the tree. Shocked noises sputter out of Ford as he watches Stan rub the sore spot in his head. “There’s something here,” He gestures to the general area where he smashed his head in. “I can see that!” Ford walks up to the tree, knuckles gently knocking on the metal plate that was disguised as a tree. His hands move around the tree, searching for a way to open the plate. His fingers snag on an elevated piece of tree and with his fingertips, he swings it open, revealing a control panel. The memories of constructing this rush to his mind. “I remember now!” He flips a switch, his head turning over to where the large log rested. In front of it, a patch of grass was pulled back to unravel the hidden place where book three was. Ford eagerly snatched the book in his hands, showcasing it to Stan. “Great job, Stanford!” He claps Ford’s back. “So where’s the other one, you remember?” Unfortunately for the both of them, Ford doesn’t remember. He had seemed to bury most of his memories after meeting Bill Cipher, anything beyond that point was an empty mess for him.

✶ With the two books in hand, they managed to tinker and repair the damage to their best efforts. After each exhausting night in the lab, he’d attempt to pull the lever in hopes that whatever they did that day would work and to their utter disappointment, it never dislodge from its spot. “Man,” Stan wipes his forehead with his forearm, sweat glistening on his arm. “For a brainiac like you, I would’ve never imagined you being terrible at building this!” Stan barked with a laugh. Ford scoffed, his attention laser focused on fixing a part of the machine. “How did you manage to build the portal in the first place?” Stan wondered, the flashlight he was using to help Ford see what he was doing began to steer away. “Stanley,” Ford snapped. “The light!” Stan jolted up in surprise, the light quickly going back to Ford. “Sorry,” He sheepishly said. “But seriously, how did you build this?” He looked at Ford curiously. “I had an assistant.” Ford mumbled, a leak of oil dotting his clothes. He hissed, grabbing a tool off the ground to fix whatever started leaking. “Had? What happened?” Ford hummed happily. He had fixed the leak. Placing the tool back down to the floor, he directed his attention to Stan. “He quit.” Ford scratched his head, unintentionally smearing oil on his cheek with his hand. “Why?” Stan tossed him a piece of clean cloth, silently motioning to his cheek. Ford took it, wiping his cheek with the cloth. “He, uh,” If Ford told Stan that he went inside the portal momentarily and came out completely traumatized, Stan would go berserk on him knowing that you went inside the exact portal that mentally ruined Fiddleford. Ford did not want to go back to the arguing and suffocating silence so he lied. “He just thought what I was doing was unethical.” That wasn’t a complete and total lie, but it was far from the truth. Stan bought the lie fortunately for Ford. “Glad at least someone had the brain to call a quits!” 

✶ Before they knew it, they were tremendously low on money. Stan was the unfortunate one to discover this revelation. On a quick supply run, Stan had gone to the grocery store and stock up on some food. When the cashier rang up him, totaling his price to 30 dollars, Stan had pulled out a penny, paper clip and a wrapper. Mentally cursing Ford for spending all his money on unnecessary science stuff, he weakly smiled at the cashier. “Can you hold onto my groceries for a quick second?” The cashier nodded their, a big bright smile on their face. “Of course, stranger!” And right when Stan was going to snag the groceries bags in his hurried rush, a woman spoke from behind him. “Hey, that’s no stranger! That must be the mysterious science guy in the woods!” She points, gathering a crowd around Stan. “Ah, no. That’s my nerdy twin brother.” Stan says, causing the crowd to coo in interest. “There’s two of them?” Someone in the crowd asked. “He probably cloned himself just so he could do two things at once!” Someone else said. “That’s probably what happened. I’ve heard strange stories about that old shack.” Toby Determined spoke up. “Yeah! Mysterious lights and spooky experiments!” Daryl added. “Gosh, I’d pay anything to see what kind of shenanigans you get up in there!” Pa said. Susan perked up at that. “Oh, me too! Do you ever give tours?” 

✶ A sly smirked pulled to Stan’s face. He had the perfect idea. “Yes, I do give tours! Ten…no-no fifteen bucks a person!” The crowd erupts in cheers, waving their green bills around. “Is it possible we get to see the man of mystery himself?” Susan questions. “Hmm, I’m not sure.” Stan eluded them to think that there was no possible way to get to Ford to gauge their reactions. And what they gave him sent adrenaline rushing through his veins. “You know what?” The crowd lightens up with hope. “Fifty bucks if you all want to see the man of mystery himself!” Another boisterous cheer from the crowd. “And what did you say your name was, twin of mister mystery?” Stan smiled proudly. “Stanley, Stanley Pines.”

✶ The crowd bustles into the shack, ooo’s and aaa’a left their mouths in awe of the place. “Step right up folks to a world of,” he pauses for a moment thinking. “A world of enchantment!” He gestures to all the wild findings. Grabbing a dial box with two antennae, he showcases it to the crowd. “Behold! The um, nerdy science box.” Susan looked at it with interest. The device rumbled to life and zapped her in the eye, rendering it closed. “Ah, my eye!” She covers her closed eye, stumbling back. “Uh, I can assure you, that is no way permanent!” He offers an uneasy smile. “I paid sixty five dollars for this!?” With Susan’s comment, the whole crowd erupted in complaints. Quickly thinking, he grabs a skeleton and makes a half-assed joke where the last customers didn’t make it out alive. The crowd laughs at his horrible joke and Stan smiles. “What is with all this ruckus?” Ford walks in, irritation evident on his face. “Is that him?” Someone excitedly shrieks from the crowd. “Oh my god, it is! Take my money!” Wads of dollar bills get thrown at Stan who was making a great effort to make sure he caught all of them. “Stanley, what did you do!”

✶ After answering a few questions he was coaxed into, (they stroked his ego), he kicked them out, accidentally saying that they could return another time before closing the door, smacking himself in the head. “What was that?” Stan turned over to Ford,  buckets of money shoved inside into his shirt. “I got us money! And look how much we got!” He pulls a ten dollar bill from his stack in his shirt. “Stanford, this the best thing that’s ever happened to us so far.” Ford looks at him, unsure. “I’m not a fan of ripping people off,” Stan’s hands fall to his sides. “It’s their choice to throw money at me like a madman. Listen, if we get more money, we can stock up on good materials to fix the portal, like really good parts and we can finally bring [Name] back.” Ford stewed in his thoughts for a little more. He hated to admit, but Stan was right. With a little more money, they could be sailing straight to victory with a higher chance of your return. Ford let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, but I don’t want you to mess with my stuff, got it?” Stan beamed brightly. “I promise!” He broke that later on. 

✶ Gradually, the scary shed in the woods turned into a tourist spot people would frequent. Together, they advertised the shack by plastering various signs and posters all over the woods. They even went as far to tape advertisements onto people’s windows. Ford wanted to use actual beasts he had found in the woods to show to people, but in the end they all ran away, horrified for their lives. Ford was respectfully peeved because when he’d glance over to Stan, he had somehow had the crowd hanging on to every word that spilled out of his mouth. And when he’d show the crudely sewed animal he had made within five minutes before the tour started, they all gasped in delight, their money flying to him. “How do you do it?” Ford asks as Stan closes the door, reveling in the pool of money he had made. “I just say whatever comes to mind.” Stan shrugs. “But none of your stories make any sense logically! How did they believe in a half beaver half bat?” He gestures to the taxidermy animal. The beady eyes were slowly sliding off its face, leaving a trail of glue. “Hey, the people love to spend their money on things that are obviously fake, weirdly enough.” The door rattles with a knock. “Wanna take this next crowd? I gotta sort this money.” Against his will, not really, Ford opens the door and flashes an award winning smile he had learned from Stan. Cash was already being shoved in his face. At least he earns money for looking good. Ford attempted Stan’s whole shtick and to his very surprise it worked! It wasn’t as good as Stan’s performance, but it worked well enough that people were swarming him with cash. His bitterness from before was quickly washed over and he continued on his act. When the crowd dispersed, satisfied with their tour. Stan was there in the middle, clapping widely. “That was some good acting there, Ford!” Ford smiled, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m only doing this cause we need the money.” 

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz if you wanna be added to my taglist, dm me or comment! <3

Next ->

[necrolog1st]

SFW HEADCANONS WITH TILL

btw: sfw, gn!reader(sometimes he/him, it's a translation error), bad english, open ending,

fandom: ALIEN STAGE

Till was, is and will be a rebel.

He almost never parted with bruises and abrasions. Causal, sharp-tongued, but no one appreciated his straightforwardness in Anakt Garden. For his honesty, he most often got hit with a bright fist.

"Cattle!" they shouted after him.

Sometimes he himself was looking for a fight, sometimes he was just annoying someone. What difference does it make - he got used to it long ago, but he could not cope with his emotions. On the outside, Till is a bright, daring spot, disturbing the licked idyll. And on the inside - he is warm, gentle and vulnerable. It's just that few people noticed it. Most considered him a fool. Or, even worse, an uncontrollable Godzilla who tramples everything in sight. One minute he's grumbling, banging his forehead against the cold wall, and the next he's humming, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, mumbling, writing, pencil in his teeth like a captain's cigar.

This could go on forever. It seemed like another skirmish, right on schedule. From Till's own point of view, he was just lying innocently on the lawn, spinning in the sun's rays, as if he were starring in an advertisement for a happy future. But then someone showed up again with their "funny" and completely unfair comments. He himself was already having a hard time believing it, but here he is - defeated again (although, of course, he will never admit it) - lying on his back with a bruise on his forehead, arms and legs spread out in the shape of a star. Furiously going over in his head every "soft word" he would like to throw in the face of this idiot. Kicking his legs, as if this is how he can throw off the insult. In a fit of anger, he bites his lip. He tears the grass around him - at least he needs to take out his anger on something. Every feeling towards the offender flares up anew, especially after the latter, leaving, even smirked when Till shouted after him about the second round, in which he would definitely win. In a fit of anger, Till closed his eyes. Still, he was alone here. Or at least he thought so.

"Are you... okay?" The voice sounded as if from nowhere - quiet, uncertain, almost a whisper, and sincere concern was clearly heard in it. Till shuddered. His body froze in some strange, uncomfortable pose, and his eyes opened wide ... but he did not turn around. His brain was having a hard time digesting the information: someone saw. Someone heard. Someone dared to ask. Rage, like a flash, flooded the remains of common sense. The words spoken with care immediately turned into mockery in his head. He thought he heard laughter behind the scenes, a hint of denunciation, pity through clenched teeth. He grimaced as if he was sour, and without thinking, he threw out the first thing that came to mind. - What difference does it make to you?! Are you going to go knock on these aliens, or do you want to have a laugh, right?! Huh?!

The voice came out prickly, ringing - like broken glass. It ripped through the silence, touched the air. You recoiled. You took a half-step back - instinctively, as if from a blow. Your shoulders clenched, and your hands rose halfway, showing a peace sign that there was no meanness in your palms.

- N-no... I wasn't going to tell anyone anything, really. You just look, well, worried, or something... - you began to speak, stumbling and choosing your words, as if you were walking on thin ice.

But you could tell by the look on Till's face that it hadn't worked.

"Are you saying I'm crazy?!" He blurted it out as if he was waiting for an excuse. The words rushed out of him like bees from a broken hive. It seemed like even the kindest phrases hurt him more than someone's fist.

"No, you're completely healthy, I'm sure." You quickly objected, your voice getting a little louder, but still shaking. And, yes, he really did look a little unstable right now. But you pushed those thoughts aside. He wasn't "crazy." He was... just different. Special. Before he could cling to what he'd said again, you quickly added, almost in one breath:

"It's just... you have a bruise. I thought maybe I should go see a nurse. Or I could help you cover it up with makeup so the aliens wouldn't complain." The words sounded uncertain, but... honest. Without shouting, without pathos, without gestures to the chest. Just as it is. From somewhere inside. And there was something important in this. Till froze, as if he did not immediately understand that they were not being rude to him, not teaching him, not pitying him. He slowly, as if not trusting his own eyes, began to study you with his gaze - from your knees, clinging to the folds of fabric, to your face. You were still fiddling with the hem of your white shirt, as if this somehow helped ease the situation. And even though everything was squeezing in your chest, you just stood there. You did not hide. You did not leave. You were not nervous, just stunned by the strangeness of the situation.

Something inside Till trembled. Instead of the usual irritation and anger ... it was quiet. Not deathly silence - but the kind after a strong thunderstorm, when the air is still trembling, but you can breathe calmly.

Calm? Perhaps, even strange if you think about it. It was ridiculous, absurd for him — and yet true. He simply looked at you for about a minute. Silent. And you — tried not to show your trembling fingers and did not look away.

“If you want… then fine,” Till muttered, still a little surprised. You smiled — quietly, kindly, the way you smile when you don’t want to frighten the moment. You held out your hand. Till took it — carefully, as if he was afraid thatShe'll disappear. Warm. Real. He stood up, even swayed a little, but didn't let go. He caught himself thinking that he didn't want to let her go, but quickly pushed the thoughts out of his head.

You could say that's where it all started.

After that incident, you carefully helped Till - not pushy, not intrusive, but with such light care. As promised, you carefully "borrowed" the necessary anti-bruise products from the office. (Although Till fiercely insisted that this was theft, and you were simply too soft to admit it.) You applied the tenth layer of foundation, trying to hide his forehead, as if it were a top-level secret. He grumbled, and every time he jerked his head, when you tried to fix his bangs to hide the mark from the blow. But you did not take into account one nuance: Till was still Till. And after just a couple of hours, at the most inopportune moment, he got caught in front of the teacher. Then he listened to an hour-long lecture about his recklessness for two hours - he sat there with the look of a martyr, boredly staring at the ceiling and not listening to a word.

And then he found you. Himself.

He sat down next to him, as if that was how it should be, and began to vividly describe what an "unfair nonsense" it was and how everyone around him did not understand anything. He himself did not know why he came to you. He said that you started it all, so now he had to endure it. But for the first time - for real - he felt that he was being listened to. Not pretending. Not interrupting. Not wincing. You not only nodded attentively, you asked questions, agreed somewhere, argued somewhere, but without mockery, without pressure. Without the desire to "fix". Sometimes it seemed to him that you were too soft, especially when you again climbed to look at his bruise.

- Are you completely nuts, huh? - he grumbled, grimacing as if you had poured iodine into his soul. - Just a little more and you'll be recorded in the medical record.

But you didn't flinch. You weren't embarrassed. You just chuckled and continued examining. And Till - even if he didn't admit it to himself - suddenly realized: you simply cared. You weren't trying to change him. You were just there. And it was 'damn warm'.

Since then, you have become an integral part of his noisy, harsh, but in their own way bright everyday life. It would seem that not much has changed - Till was still a "teenage ulcer", hot-tempered, caustic, always with a splinter on his tongue. But next to you, he became a little... softer. As if your softness was seeping inside. A little warmer. Only he himself, of course, did not suspect it. Your communication became something like a familiar ritual. You helped him stay out of fights — as much as possible. Sometimes you caught him by the sleeve, holding him back half a step from the next "idiot who is to blame himself!" Sometimes you stood in front of the teachers, covering his back, trying to justify him, you did not have the courage to lie, but understanding your soft, almost modest nature, this was enough for him. It rarely worked. But Till never admitted that he enjoyed it.

Quietly, in his own way, he felt - no matter what he did, no matter what he blurted out, there was at least one person who would not turn away. Will try to understand. To convey to others, if he himself - could not.

And most importantly - at the end of the day, a conversation always awaited him. The two of you, under an artificial tree. Where he could talk out, down to the smallest detail, to the funny, to the offensive. Between you, it seemed, there was nothing. But in fact - there was everything.

Thirteen strange notes that were in notebooks between topics. Two quick glances on the run, when you were out of breath and he ran regardless. An infinite amount of understanding without words. Ten complete misunderstandings with words. Five false notes in one line of his song. A couple of treats in his lunch from you. A piece of chocolate, thrown into the palm of his hand without explanation. The phrase: "How are you?" - at the moment when it is most needed.

And all this - quietly, without loud confessions, without the words "friendship" or "important". But this was exactly what made up your common everything.

Once during lunch, Till was sitting at the table with Mizi and Sua. Each of them was chatting about their own, interrupting, laughing, quarreling - in their own way, but somehow warmly. You were also part of this small, strange company, but you went somewhere - either for a tray, or for something else. The conversation somehow turned to you. And then Till seemed to have completely forgotten that sometimes it’s better to filter your words.

“He’s... well, too soft. Too much. Always covering for me. Even when I didn’t ask!” he began with his usual harshness, but the more he spoke, the more... strangely excited he sounded.

“And why do you have to pat me on the head every time I succeed? Even in front of everyone! It’s... it’s weird. And anyway, I don’t care! At all. Let him stop already.”

He sat with a stony face, as if trying to convince himself that it was true, quietly stirring his lunch, not noticing how everything had turned into an inedible mush.

And the whole company in response... strangely fell silent. They began to whisper. Someone smiled faintly. Mizi glanced at him as if she knew more about him than he did.

“Hey, what are you whispering about?! "Till barked, glancing at everyone in turn. Sua - the silent, almost invisible one, whom he, frankly, did not particularly like - suddenly exhaled slowly andkoino said:

— When will it dawn on you…

Mizi giggled, leaning back on Sua’s shoulder, casting a glance at him as if she knew the whole plot in advance. And Till realized that they weren’t laughing at him. They were simply seeing something that he himself couldn’t name. Something that was important.

And he…

He simply didn’t know how to talk about it. He didn’t know how to do it any other way. Then he began to furiously persuade them to tell him what they were laughing at, but everyone remained silent. He simply didn’t know how to talk about it. He didn’t know how to do it any other way.

In response to his friends’ silence, he began to seethe out of habit:

— So what?! What are you laughing at? Tell me already, you’ve had enough!

But everyone looked at each other and remained silent, as if by agreement. When you returned, the first thing that caught my eye was Till’s plate. The food had turned into some kind of mess, with which, it seemed, he had started a fight. You wordlessly pushed your tray towards him, silently sharing.

He snorted:

“You shouldn’t have...”

But he ate so fast, as if he hadn’t eaten for a week. You smiled quietly, even wiping his cheek with a napkin a couple of times. He twitched, looked away, grumbled, but didn’t move away. An omnivore, what can I say.

Meanwhile, his eyes sought out his friends’ glances again and again. And every time he caught them, he rolled his eyes in irritation.

After Sua’s words, he caught himself looking at you more and more often. Not because he liked you. Just... to understand what she meant then. He quickly drove those thoughts away. There was no point in thinking about some scraps said with the look of an old wise turtle.

Over time, you both grew up a little. The bonds became stronger. You learned to understand yourselves - and each other - better. You both stretched out, and life became full of everything: worries, opportunities, incomprehensible conversations and, it would seem, nothing special. But not for Till. He himself did not notice how he began to look at you differently. You were still the same "brat", as he joked, "a peacemaker with hearts instead of brains", but now something clicked in his head with every touch. Each of your "brush the crumb off the shoulder" turned into a tiny panic for him. His cheeks flared, his eyebrows flew up, and he stuttered:

- Hey! Well... you! Stop it! Right now!

You laughed, did not back down. He grumbled. Averted his eyes. But did not move away. Between all your conversations, there were still no hints, no confessions. But under each word, something new seemed to vibrate. Unsure, real.

Since then, he had been banging his head against the wall more and more often - not literally, of course (although sometimes literally) - every time he started getting nervous around you again. He didn't understand what had changed in you. More precisely... he understood, but he didn't want to admit it. Why did he look like a fool with overheated thoughts next to you now? Why did he want your gaze, your approval, and - the most shameful thing - your touch? And the strangest thing: nothing had changed between you. Not your intonation, not your jokes, not your desire to protect him from another displeasure from the aliens about his antics. Only he had changed. Now, when you looked at him - especially with that soft gaze, in which warm confidence could be read - he could suddenly blurt out something idiotic inappropriate, emphasize your clumsiness, or, on the contrary, say that you were too neat. Sometimes he still allowed himself to be soft. In moments when he thought that you did not notice. He could straighten your strand of hair, as if by accident. He also often drew you. He wanted to capture every moment. Write something for you, give you your favorite treat at dinner.. Say in a whisper:

— I just don’t want anyone to touch you.

And a minute later, suddenly pull away and snort:

— It’s not caring, it’s just... you’re weak, that’s all.

He wanted to be closer, and at the same time — he didn’t let anyone near. He understood all this. But he denied it with all his might. He became a thorn. Almost a hedgehog with nails instead of needles. Every time you started to fool around, when you laughed together, he immediately joked back with irritation:

— I don’t care at all! Don’t interfere! — But his voice broke. He was angry. Not at you — at himself.

It became almost impossible to touch him. He immediately turned away. He could get up and leave, pretend to have heard a call from far away, or suddenly remember that he had "important things to do."

And if you asked what was wrong with him, he would throw out some awkward:

- Nothing! Just don't piss me off!

When others asked what happened, you threw up your hands. You thought that it was just part of his character, that he was just... Special, not in a bad way. You downloaded from that old communication that had been between you. However, he missed you even more. He was angry. Not at you. At himself. For behaving like this. In Anakt Garden, they did not teach how to properly show love, how to show affection.

One night, lying in bed, he tossed and turned for a long time, tangling his legs in the duvet cover, burying himself in the pillow, turning from side to side. A storm raged inside - all that which he could not put on the shelves. And at some point – between two breaths – he finally confessed. Not to you. To himself. Maybe this was more than just friendship. More than being your best friend. Maybe… this was it. Now the big question remained:Is it worth it? Will you accept his feelings?

- Tomorrow. I confess. That's right, - he thought, clenching his fists under the blanket. His face took on a determined expression, his heart filled with hope. But all these hopes crumbled to dust the next morning.

Shaking. Blushing. Trembling. Repeating. In a circle. You were walking along the river. It was his initiative - he had been inviting you for a walk since the morning. All morning he had been rehearsing the text:

"Something in the world changed when I saw you. You are the brightest star, and I am your companion. I want to love you, talk to you, touch you, feel every facet of your soul. My heart is beating wildly. I hope you will hear."

He knew these words by heart. To the last point. But he did not take yesterday's courage with him. He inhaled. Clenched his fists. Looked at you. Everything - now or never.

— Something in the world… Something… The weather! Yeah! I wonder what the weather is like now! It seems hot to me! — he blurted out with a catastrophic expression on his face. If anyone had seen it, they would have definitely said that he was a coward. He knew it himself. You blinked in surprise.

— I don’t think the weather is changing. This is Anakt Garden after all… — you bowed your head slightly. — Maybe you have a fever? A fever is a bad sign.

You were both silent for a second. He was hopeless, and you were even worse. He shook his head, ran his hand over his face, as if he wanted to wipe away the embarrassment.

— I’m not sick, — he muttered. — You’re just… hot. Oh. I mean, you’re… warm. Well, like a person. — He coughed, hiding his face in his hands. You quietly laughed, covering your lips with your hand.

— Damn it! — he cursed, — stop it! I'm trying...

You looked at him more closely.

"What are you trying to do?" you said, slightly surprised.

He froze for a moment, met your gaze... and stepped back again.

"Forget it."

And you didn't insist. You just continued walking next to him. In silence. And then you suddenly gently touched his hand. Softly, as if by accident. And you didn't take it away. He looked down. At your fingers. At the way they touched his skin. And suddenly he didn't pull away. And then, later - when you were sitting under a tree, as usual - he gently nudged you with his shoulder and said:

"If I ever say something stupid... really stupid... don't send me away, okay?"

You smiled.

"Don't even think about it. Till, no matter what you do, no matter what stupid thing you say, I will always be there. - You wrote a scene that makes your heart stop. These words hit you straight in the soul. He looked down, his eyes fell on the floor. He smiled - awkwardly, almost tenderly, as best he could. Then, as if it meant nothing, he casually leaned back on your shoulder. Silence. Not a word from you.

He froze. His heart sank into his heels. Maybe you don’t like it? Maybe you find him disgusting. Then your warm palm ruffled his hair. Softly, Calmly, Without words. But so homely.

As if it happened every day, although it did.

Since then, he decided - it’s better to keep his feelings to himself for now. He didn’t want to lose this warmth. He didn’t want to look into your eyes and see disgust there. He took a step back, just in case, Even two, just so as not to step on a rake, not to lose your warm hands.

Of course, he was bad at hiding his embarrassment. His cheeks were flushed, his voice was shaking, his movements were clumsy. You looked at it with soft amusement - without teasing, just in a friendly way. You smiled. And that was it.

So, one day, when he had almost convinced himself that "let it be just friendship", he was sitting on the grass. Drawing. Or rather, scribbling, as he himself said. When it didn't work, a crumpled sheet of paper would fly to the side. There were already about ten of them lying around - crumpled, distorted with anger. You approached quietly. He didn't notice right away. Or maybe he did - but he felt calm with you. You picked up one of the crumpled sheets. Straightened it out. There was something touching there, a little crooked, but in its own way alive, as always, chaotic, you didn't even make out what was there. He drew the way he felt. And you knew it. They always said he was a good boy, that he should continue. You weren't flattering him - you just sincerely enjoyed watching this process.

Till sat, thoughtfully twirling his pencil. You quietly looked over his shoulder, your eyes running along the lines of the sketches. And suddenly - you noticed a small detail: a fish-shaped cookie. The same one that you were often given for an evening snack. Your little secret, your common weakness.

"Fish cookies?" you asked, still calmly, without taking your eyes off the sheet.

He shuddered. Not because he was scared. It was just... your presence pierced him through and through. His cheeks flushed. His heart began to beat faster. Again. He had already stopped noticing it.

"Yeah..." Till muttered, continuing to move the pencil, although the lines were already spreading. He was nervous.

"Beautiful," you said.

He tensed up. He was ready to defend himself - to mutter that you simply felt sorry for him, that he had "hook-hands", as he always said. Although if someone else had said this, he would have hit him. But inside - inside he wanted you to continue talking. Praising. Looking. Just being there.

He was just about to give out sarcasm, just inhaled... And suddenly - he felt. Something warm touched his cheek. A second. Just a second. You took a last calm breath.

THANKS FOR READING. YAY ←⁠_⁠←

cr : @ alienstagepngg (tg)

[kanmom51]

It's the morning after

And...

I really don't think i stressed this enough in my post yesterday.

And yes, this is what I woke up to on my mind.

JIKOOK ARE TOGETHER

Like, for the whole 18 months of their military service.

End of 2023.

All of 2024.

NOW.

For the next 4 upcoming months until they are discharged.

And let's clarify this, just for those that have a problem digesting it all:

They wake up together (on the days JK isn't an early bird for breakfast preparations).

They spend their free time together.

They exercise together.

They sing together.

They shower together.

They shower together while singing together.

They do stuff together, and from the sounds of it, crazy shit included, stuff that they can share with us and stuff that they most definitely feel they can't.

They have meaningful heart to heart conversations about their futures, including their images and future life.

And last but most certainly not least, they go to sleep together (the above conversations being had prior to sleeping).

Sleeping together in the same dorm.

A room that from the sound of it in the live is most likely one they share alone. Just the two of them. No one else in that room.

Will repeat this one again:

They are in that room alone, just the two of them.

Oh, and make no mistake.

They will continue to be together come 11 June 2025 and on!!

So to those who need to convince themselves that JK wasn't the one actually in that conversation yesterday, Hobi and JM lying through their teeth to us (you delusional idiots), I say "clutch your pearls bitches", because if you think you had it hard since end of 2023, it's gonna be getting so much better.

For us bitches, not you🤣.

[cheralith]

omg Kaiser in Harry Potter au is becoming my life 🩷🩷

Can we PLEASEEEE have a few headcanons about what it would be like for ravenclaw!reader to date slytherin!kaiser?

or just anything from this AU 😭😭 it’s so good

character ; michael kaiser || cw ; gn!reader, no pronouns used, slytherin!kaiser, ravenclaw!reader, hogwarts au, kaiser is pure-blood, reader is half-blood, aged-up characters

because of the fact he's such an emotionally constipated and idiotic person you guys do not end up dating until like... your very late twenties/early thirties. it takes him a horribly long time to even realize he's in love let alone the time it takes for him to say something.

but when he does, it comes out completely by accident. it's during the yule ball, where you and him are supervising the students and the same beauxbatons boy you had gone with all those years ago is back as one of their house's quidditch coach in the same manner that kaiser is. you and him are just catching up in a friendly manner but kaiser's at the side just quietly listening to the conversation.

it's rather hard for him to ignore the way julian loki, whose face is just so graced by age to kaiser's disdain, is looking at you. there's clearly something he wants to continue off from, and when he begins to ask if you'd like to catch up somewhere, kaiser drags you away mid-convo.

per usual, you and him break out into a verbal bicker, going back and forth on very redundant statements that seem to bring the conversation nowhere near and end because on your hand, you don't understand why kaiser's been so pissy lately and kaiser is trying his best to understand why he feels like this towards you. until something slips through by accident, his filter completely vanishing and his innermost thoughts taking reign.

so you and him are just staring at each other in complete shock just trying to digest what the hell he just said to you. you're wide-eyed, kaiser's got a hand over his mouth, a furious blush spreading over his face as he tries to come up with a shitty excuse to try and cover what he just said up, but it's kind of hard considering he did just say, "because he looks like he's in love with you like i am!"

he tries to leave the room, begging telling you to forget what just happened, until you drag him back in and demand him what he means. he tries to word it out, but since love has never really been a good thing to him and its concept was just as confusing as transfiguration theory, he ends up acting on instinct, grabbing your face and letting his lips that collide with yours so heavenly do the talking.

so hip hip hooray stupid pining idiot finally gets what he's been wanting from you after so many years everyone clap

obviously due to the fact that you're colleagues and staff, you need to hide your relationship. and since the students are so nosy, you really have to do your best to act natural around him, especially around the members of a particular hush-hushed club that advocates for yours and kaiser's relationship because they're much more keen than the average student—using any singular crumb that you and kaiser give them to feed their material.

but you find it to be rather difficult. kaiser has been pining and dwelling for you for how many years now??? so best believe he's going to be making up for those lost years and much and as often as possible. good luck, babe.

you'd be walking down a lone corridor, only to turn a corner and getting whipped around and suddenly finding his lips on yours as your back rests against a cold wall. he'd often come into your office hours unannounced, bothering and flirting with you as you graded papers with the door wide open. during meetings, he'd at first shuffle his foot to find yours. then he got more confident; he'd rub it up and down your leg trying to raise a reaction out of you.

it didn't help that kaiser knew how to apparate and you didn't. it's prohibited on hogwarts grounds, but in hogsmeade, which is also where you reside in a small cottage, best believe he'd teleport into your house unannounced if he wanted to see you.

weekends are nice; you and him are able to get away from hogwarts and actually can spend time as a couple, but regardless, you and him still have to tiptoe around just in case any staff that's also taken the liberty of leaving hogwarts for the weekend see you hanging around each other as well.

so, it's pretty hard to try and keep things under wraps. and kaiser clearly grows more impatient and needy. he gets bolder, too. he'd sometimes ask to "borrow you" mid-class just to make out with you in a broom closet for a hot two minutes, leaving you flustered and slightly messy haired to his delight or leave gifts and flowers on your office desk, only signing it off ambiguously with "♡, k." thankfully, you come earlier than your students usually, so you’re able to hide them beforehand.

some of the older students start to catch on—especially since up until recently, it was uncommon to see the two rival professors to be rather close in proximity with each other while pacing down hallways or talking to each other in a more mild manner than what they were used to seeing. is that smile on professor kaiser's face? the hell? does this mean that he'll be more lenient on newt exams?

the news of arch-rivals professor (l/n) and professor kaiser dating really start to amp up when a student had spotted you leaving kaiser's office in the late evening. the student thinks nothing of it at first, until kaiser escorts you out and gives you a small kiss on your forehead.

so it spreads like wildfire and eventually you and him crack and admit to the higher-ups that you and him are indeed in a relationship. cue the immense amount of paperwork that shoulders you and him. but hey, once it's done, everything is at least brought to the surface and there was no longer that stress of trying to hide your relationship.

the only con is that during classes, some of the students would get too cheeky and prod at you and him about your personal lives. "is it true that professor kaiser sleeps in a silk robe?!" "does professor (l/n) know you gamble at hogsmeade with the elves?" "i heard professor kaiser has a ten-step skincare routine, is that true, prof?"

valentine's day also turns out to be quite a stir; for some reason, students now think you and him are experts on love and come to each of you asking for relationship advice. young love, as amusing as it is, is just so very ignorant... especially since it took kaiser more than ten years to confess (maybe not the best person to go to for dating advice).

outside hogwarts, it's more tame. it takes a bit of convincing, but kaiser accompanies you to the muggle world when you visit your parents. he's been in the muggle world before and he found it much more dull than the wizarding world... until you reach your parents' home. suddenly, he's poking his head in every photo album that has a younger, tooth-gapped photos of you and twiddling with regular muggle items like a computer or a television remote.

"is the bread alive? why did it just jump?" he asks, brows furrowed at the freshly toasted bread in the toaster after he flinches at the movement.

"so is there like... a little man singing in this?" he inquires as you play him something from your radio.

"why can't you just let owls do it?" he questions while the mailman drops off the weekly post. "it'd be a lot faster."

you and your parents definitely earn a laugh out of a pure-blood wizard just being rather fascinated with every-day muggle items; especially since you remember kaiser taking naps in muggle studies when you and him were younger, it makes the experience a lot more interesting.

[sheepispink]

(platonic, 996 words)

Ghost wasn’t too keen on love, by definition it was clear he wouldn't be the man who sweeps anyone off their feet and into the sunset. Though nor would he snatch you up in the bar, take you home and then leave you shivering between sheets by morning.

Sure, he used to indulge himself in the occasional one night stand, but when he’s busy hunting down terrorist organisations, that’s considered to be a luxury only the sane can afford. Though, don't get him wrong, he doesn't have the slightest problem with it, even if Soap has tried to encourage him to find himself a pretty thing one of many times.

He just doesn't see the need. Special forces have never left room for outside commitments, whether that’s a pet or a houseplant. It’s not like he wants to deal with the emotional turmoil of guilt that comes with practically any relationship– he already misses his favourite mask when he has to put it in the laundry. The point was, he doesn’t want someone to entirely depend on his existence, who’ll crumble when he eventually disappears without a trace; it’s a fate too common with this job. All that matters in the end is having his team’s back, and them having his.

You loved to take that phrase a little too literally.

In fact, he’s positive you’ve fallen asleep against his side or back nearly every overnight mission you’ve had with him. Of course the other two sergeants followed too, until he had a cuddle pile all eventually leaning onto him like dominoes.Missions aren't the only thing though.

Today is the third time this month his door has opened on its own, during a similar hour of the night each time. Then, just like always, there’s a small whisper. “..Ghost?” He’s never really all that asleep anyway, but he makes sure to grunt and roll over like he’s been woken from the best sleep possible. Your wide eyes look at him, almost like a nocturnal animal the way you always have energy.

Every damn Saturday.

The first time it was a level you couldn’t nearly complete on your current game, last time it was because you had watched at least 20 commentary videos and thus had 20 topics to rant to him about. Today was different though, hence the oven mitts on your hands. “You want a snack?”

After scurrying back to the common room to grab whatever baked good you made, you return back with the entire airfryer tray, navigating through the darkness of his room to hop on the bed beside him. There’s a faint rustle as you open a pack of Price’s digestive biscuits and pass one over to him, who's still lying beneath the covers, blinking at you in confusion. “You came ‘ere to give me a biscuit?”

You huff and roll your eyes, snatching the biscuit back out of his hand and scooping up whatever is in the airfryer with it. “No you idiot; if you sat up you’d find out!” You can't actually shout at him since it’s two am, but you make your annoyance well known with a whisper shout anyway. Then you hand the biscuit back, letting his fingers pinch the bottom instead as he holds it up to his face. Sticky and sweet marshmallow and dripping chocolate–you got influenced by social media again. “Air fryer smores!” You announce excitedly, digging your own digestive biscuit in and scooping some up for yourself before letting out a whispered “Mmm!”. Well now he knows it’s edible, he scoffs it down all at once enjoying the balance in tastes.

Soon the pair of you have practically licked the tray clean, not a single speck left to pay remembrance to what you had cooked. You flop back against his pillows, licking your lips which does practically nothing to wipe away the chocolate smears on your cheeks. “Don’t get chocolate on my pillows.” He huffs, throwing a tissue into your face, which you only snicker at before cleaning yourself up.

“Were you actually sleeping when I walked in?” You roll onto your side to look at him, his hasty balaclava only letting his eyes peek at you, ones that look a little duller than usual. “A bit.”

That just makes you raise your brow almost accusingly, before he relents, his face half pushed into the pillow as he groans, hating the way you always see right through him. Just to prove his point, he rolls over, facing his back to you as he huffs, “You can go to your room now.”

“You’re so grumpy.” He can tell there’s a grin beneath your tone, especially when the duvets move, accompanied by your cold legs touching his. “Night, Ghost.”

He glances back at you, watching as you snuggle into the pillows on the other end of his bed. Damn you; of course you knew he’d sleep better with someone else beside him, reminding his shattered mind with each soft breath which leaves your lungs that the battlefield is far far away. You were always like this, the complete opposite of Soap and yet you both lit up the room the exact same. Ghost was stupid to think he wasn’t capable of love because whilst he’d never imagined kissing or even doing anything inherently romantic with you, his heart ached for your presence and his hands waited on your touch.

He rolls over, watching as you tighten your arms around the pillow, and decides to shuffle closer. You’re awake, clear from how your head twitches at the sound of the mattress creaking as he moves. “Stop ruinin’ my pillows.” He grumbles, arms snaking around your middle and tucking his face against the warm skin of your neck. It’s not romance; it’s stability and comfort, it’s warmth and emotion and he hates to admit it but he was wrong.

Ghost isn’t keen on romance, but he does love you for everything you are, and that wont change.

buy me a coffee!

[jayflrt]

fuck christmas!

PAIRING ▸ park sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ social media au (smau), fluff, crack, some angst

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, idiots to lovers, lots of pining, mentions of family issues, sexual jokes but no sexual content, major hater activities, mentions of alcohol consumption, ignore timestamps !!

SUMMARY ▸ in which sunghoon hates christmas, so you consult wikihow to get him in the holiday spirit.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ it’s that time of the year where i look back at old smaus and cringe and remake them </3 anyways i hope everyone enjoys christmas this year ♡ this is all clearly fictional btw since sunghoon loves christmas so bad 😐

INCOMING MESSAGES !

PROFILES

01. who the hell is santa

02. a wikihow christmas

03. what's ur paypal broke ass

04. you will be my girl

05. "i can fix him" but not his house

06. snowy the frostman, a holiday classic

07. thoughts and prayers for sunghoon's digestive system

08. good girls get their microwaves back

09. the dr. phil groupchat

10. Boyfriend and Girlfriend

11. one sided christmas beef

12. epilogue

COMPLETED 01/01/24

[dalekofchaos]

You can tell by the Evolution Press Conference HHH didn't want it to be a success, Evolution was made a success IN SPITE OF HHH! and he's pissed and I'm proud of the ladies.

“I wasn’t even sure if there was a need to have a separate show. Our women regularly headline, regularly have main events, & regularly steal shows but it was an opportunity”

“I don’t wanna say, it’s yearly, it’s not yearly. I think we see what that demand is for it, because as the demand for the women grows everyday, it becomes less about having their own show, and more about, like that’s the equality, it’s all…there, and they don’t have to have their show to be in the spotlight. But if it works, we’ll definitely go down that road. So I think it’s a ‘we shall see.’

Man’s always like “women need more spotlight and they should be treated equally to men” BITCH AREN’T YOU THE BOOKER?!

And guess fucking what big nose? In spite of you poorly building the event. In spite of you trotting out Oldberg and in spite of you giving FUCKING JELLYROLL AND LOGAN FUCKING PAUL the spotlight instead of young lions like Carmelo Hayes, the women showed you there is a demand and actual genuine love for WOMEN'S WRESTLING!

There isn’t a NEED. you’re right. women outshine your men every damn show. but you have no problem booking a 90% men’s show so what’s the hassle with the opposite..?

“Shouldn’t need their own show” but they do cuz otherwise they are thrown on the back burner so Jelly Roll can have a storyline lmao

This entire show was a fuck you to Triple H for that weak ass build. These women wrestled with conviction and spite.

Very little to effort and they still sold 8.3K tickets, hot crowd all night, and one of the best PLEs and it even blew Wrestlemania out of the water. He’s really mad as hell the women put on a show now he has to find another excuse to not give another evolution.

You can tell HHH was banking on last night being a complete failure so he could show that “women don’t draw” but it ended up being the best PLE they’ve had this year the ladies made it a success IN SPITE OF HIM!

Evolution is just proved that the women need to be the focal point of WWE on a regular

Wrestlemania was all about him and Dwayne's petty egos going wild.

SNME was a bunch of 40 year old men having mid matches with some celeb shit no one but Paul fucking asked for.

if they “don’t need their own show to get the spotlight”, then how about you give them more time weekly and better storylines? or is that too much to ask for in a still highly male-dominated industry?

You don’t book another Evolution cause it’s “needed” you book another evolution to say thank you to your women’s division for keeping your company out the ground. cause your men ain’t cutting it baby and they haven’t been all year. All your top men are either injured or part timers or in Hollywood.

There is no reason this isn’t a yearly PPV…. You have more than enough talent and storylines to do it.

The most frustrating part about Evolution was that it showed that WWE has compromised a lot of its PLE structure on pretty much every major show this year.

This one (presented in a much more traditional way) was so much more digestible and easy to watch.

7 matches, 3 hours, no match went too long, no match went too short; 5 match cards are bullshit

In light of Evolution being a success

Permanent death to 5 match PPVs

Lot's of crowd enthusiasm and this is awesome chants for a show that didn't rely on celebrities or cutscenes. It's almost like the WWE audience enjoys watching…..wrestling.

And to quote Big E. “Let’s please not wait another 7 years to do this”

And a couple of shoutouts.

Shoutout to Naomi. Shoutout for being MVP for so long. Best character growth as a heel. Killing it since NXT, the Divas and for showing these idiots what genuine fucking idiots they were for the disrespect they gave you and Mercedes 3 years ago and ya'll showed them what you were worth. Put some respect on our champion's name.

Shoutout to Iyo Sky. A Women's Championship opportunity out of nowhere, killed it with every chance she's been given and despite not being the main event, she had the best match of the year, and despite being benched for two fucking months, she's been shown to be the MVP of women's wrestling and ONCE AGAIN killed it with Rhea Ripley with ANOTHER MOTY contender.

Shout out to my Goddess Rhea Ripley. Rhea Ripley is one of the best women’s wrestlers in North America. I don’t care who doesn’t want to hear that. Don’t reply to me with a dissenting take on this. It’s not her fault they don’t book her in a way that allows her to statpad her match catalogue. She’s terrific.

Naomi;s cash-in should NOT take away from the fact that this was easily one of the BEST matches of the year. Rhea and Iyo main evented and rightfully so.

Shoutout to Charlotte and Alexa. Alexa having the best returns and absolutely killing it. Charlotte in spite of dogshit booking since her debut went out and killed it and showing better character growth since she debuted. And despite not winning, Charlotte is finally shown the appreciation she always deserved.

Shout out to the next best thing Stephanie Vaquer. Only been with WWE for a year and she's already shown that she is La Priemra

SHout out to Becky Lynch. She returned, came back as a heel and made this whole character in response to "Becky Hogan" I love it when wrestlers make characters out of pure spite

Shout out to Bayley who constantly championed for Evolution 2 for the LAST 7 YEARS! Killed it despite not being appreciated and taken advantage of time after time and showed these clowns she is the ROle Model of this division

Every single woman went out there and made this the best WWE show of the year. Asuka, Kairi Sane, Roxanne Perez, Trish Stratus, Giulia, Nikki Bella, Jacy Jayne, Jade Cargill, Bianca Belair, Jordynne Grace, Blake Monroe, Lash Legend(they fucked her over by releasing Jakara and they made them eat it by stealing the Battle Royal) So Ruca, Zaria and despite not being a fan of her political alignment, Raquel Rodriguez has killed it since coming back and finally going back to Lady Diesel instead of the smiling BS Vince saddled her. (none for MAGA Barbie cause she had 3 separate Karen moments with Jade Cargill and two racist incidents with black fans, fuck her)

And shoutout to Liv Morgan. You couldn't make it due to a accident with no fault to anyone, but don't think you aren't appreciated for in ringwork, promo time and great character. We miss and love you Liv!

They killed it and they showed they deserve the time and day the alleged creative refuses to give them.

[mercif4l]

/𝗶𝘁 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗲𝗿.

pairing: reader x choi 'buzzcut' vernon genre: angst, hurt no comfort wc: 1.2k summary: fingers off the unblock button or you're gonna regret it, girl content warning: angst bro. lovers to strangers, mentions of eating difficulties, rotting post-breakup, self-flagellating, i might wanna write an alt. ending to this bc what on earth is it so sad for.

it gets easier: they’re right about that, which pisses you off, frankly, but that’s just your pride talking. 

first, you go no contact and it destroys you, and the rot makes your blood spill a darker, angry red, like cardinals on the cusp of their death. 

then the rage is followed swiftly by embarrassment. at the circumstances, the context, your response, his response (or lack thereof), at being a human being with emotions beyond your control. it turns your teeth brittle and sore, and you can’t muster the courage to smile anymore, but at least you’re eating again. 

the songs that dominate your breakup playlist fall into obscurity in the belly of your liked songs. savored, chewed up, swallowed, sizzling away in the same acid that digested ‘fireflies’ by owl city some 15 years ago. 

now, they only startle you after their second chorus plays through the shitty sound system of some target eight months later. 

then there’s that big, bulbous, obnoxious conclusion: acceptance. 

maybe it’s the exposure therapy? 

you see his face everywhere, not seeking it out, but not avoiding it either. you’re … you deserve to see that he has moved on. it’s good for you to see him and try to accept the feelings that linger (beyond bitterness and resentment). 

because where that tunnel ends, you know he has made you happy. he persists in making you happy, still. the better memories are too plentiful to count or ignore, and his stupid grin always makes you grin right back, no matter the distance—even if it is watching some moment of fanatic hysteria explode on twitter. 

so it does get easier. yes, even as you’re inundated with pictures of him performing to sold out arenas, or modeling brands whose names you know he's too scared to try and pronounce, or shuffling through an airport with a too-small baseball cap haphazardly hiding a new haircut. wait. a new haircut?

it's like something possesses you. one minute you're doomscrolling, the next you're neck deep in carat twitter's discourse over some fantaken photos.

while thousands of fans scream back and forth over something that will inevitably be confirmed in the next 24 hours, you realize-or remember-you're only privy to this news as a statistic. you're just another view in an algorithm. and that no one thinks (or cares) to ask you about hansol anymore, knowing you no longer have a place by his side. 

oof. yeah, that still stings a bit. accepting you have no right to know, or otherwise being limited to investigative fangirling.

but you haven’t given yourself any room for mistake making so far, so why would you sully that clean streak? for the sake of haircut curiosity? what a stupid thing to suggest. idiotic, really. self-sabotaging idiocy. 

to: +82 *** *** **** hey! new haircut looks cool. so sick the company finally let up. hope you’re doing good 👍 

now, without the warm embrace of imessage’s delete option, you’ve kinda/sort of-fucked yourself. 

“it gets easier my ass. yeah, yeah, gets easier to behave like a freak.” you berate yourself, sliding the phone across your table and vastly underestimating the distance it’d take to fall off. as you dive to catch it (and fail), that deafening ringtone only gives you reason to let it drop, to shatter the thing beyond recognizing its screen. but with this stupid heavy duty phone case hansol had bought a year back? no dice. 

from: +82 *** *** **** haha thanks man ended up begging for forgiveness rather than waiting for permission :P from: +82 *** *** **** craaaazy how hard i tried to cover it up just to be clocked the second i stepped off the plane lol

you snicker at that. how ‘hard’ he tried?

to: +82 *** *** ****  boy you wore a cap nothing was gonna cover that loooow taper fadeee 🎶  from: +82 *** *** **** brooo i was supposed to wear my hoodie but i got overstimulated  from: +82 *** *** ****  and i hope ur doing good too by the way  from: +82 *** *** ****  kinda geeked to hear from you haha

you have to put your phone down. this is dangerous, dangerous territory; like, walking through burning sand, sunburned and windlashed, toward a mirage. you have got to put your phone down. 

to: +82 *** *** **** honestly just wanted to wish u well for the new year and lyk the buzzcut is super cool B)

these stupid keyboard emojis are a little secret you both keep. something silly you only use with each other that is so inconsequential, you can’t help but let your cheeks burn an angry red at their return. 

why does it have to be so easy? 

you are going to put the phone down, now.

to: +82 *** *** **** i’m sorry for blocking you—even though we said no contact it felt pretty immature. from: +82 *** *** **** glad u like the hair. was kinda bummed u weren’t the first to see it haha could only imagine the look on your face calling u after the cut or sending u a selfie :’) from: +82 *** *** **** nah i deserved it

he didn’t deserve it. sure, his whole being him shtick was what made the separation so excruciating in the first place, but you’d made the decision mutually. albeit a bit prematurely. in the way all confused adults do when they preempt disaster and jump ship at the first sign of smoke. 

from: +82 *** *** **** that sounds crazy dramatic i just mean from: +82 *** *** **** it made sense? like it didn’t take long for me to get why you’d done it from: +82 *** *** **** i just figured pretty early on u knew what u were doing. you always did/do lol 

your finger hovers over the call button. never before has it felt so offensive, so risqué to do such a thing, but you know that by ignoring the arbitrary rules of a breakup you’re tempting fate. 

it doesn’t matter that before, you could do it as freely as you wished. that before, he would always pick up and never once avoided answering. before, you could send jibberish voicemails to litter his inbox, quadruple double triple text, or simply tell him to ‘ring’, and he’d oblige; because before you were in love. now, you’re an unnamed contact.

now, you stomp on the ashes like they’ll relight after a year being burned out. 

from: +82 *** *** ****  happy new year by the way!!!! from: +82 *** *** **** and belated happy holidays :) i pried and kwan let slip you got a billy joel record from him from: +82 *** *** **** i didn’t know you’d kept our player. why does that make me so happy?

you need to put the phone down. you have got to put the phone. you are going to put the phone down, now. 

your stiff finger taps that blue icon before you can even think to stop it. it’s unfair, really, how this has to happen, but it was inevitable. because no amount of money in the world could buy you enough dignity to do this properly.

because when it comes to hansol, you’re nothing more than a fool. 

caller id [+84 *** *** ****] > you will not receive phone calls, messages or facetime calls from people on the block list. confirm? caller blocked. 

delete message history? 

a/n: vaguely inspired by @xinganhao rockstar!reader and vernon breakup chapter.... like what if we all suffered more... because im a SICK MASOCHIST! and kae is my unknowing muse. also sorry for going afk and happy new year</3

[berryispunk]

Don't Let You Go

Frankie Morales x gn! reader

It started with a grocery store crash and a terrible first date but somehow, against all odds, it became the love that makes you stay.

The way you met your fiancé Frankie couldn’t have been more random.

You literally bumped into him in the cereal aisle. He was standing there, all broad shoulders and bedhead, squinting at the shelves like they held the answers to life’s great mysteries. You, on the other hand, were barely functioning—still red-rimmed behind your sunglasses, still swallowing the bitter aftertaste of your last relationship, and still in the oversized hoodie you swore you'd only wear inside. You’d left your apartment with the noble goal of buying anything that wasn’t instant noodles. That’s as far as the plan went.

And then—bam.

You walked straight into him.

“Oh—shit, sorry,” you muttered, stumbling back a step and steadying your sunglasses.

He looked down at you, blinked, then tilted his head like he was trying to decide if you were a real person or a hallucination sent by his subconscious to mock him for being indecisive over cereal.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and kind. “You, uh… hit me with the force of someone who just found out the milk went bad.”

You sniffled, trying to play it cool. “Worse. I found out my ex was sleeping with his ‘work wife.’ And apparently? I wasn’t even in the top five people who were surprised.”

Frankie let out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Damn. You want to talk about it over a bowl of Cocoa Puffs?”

You eyed the box in his hand. “You were going to pick Cocoa Puffs?”

“I was considering it,” he said with mock seriousness. “It’s between that and Raisin Bran, which I swear I only like for the fiber, not because I’m over thirty and slowly decaying.”

You gave a weak, involuntary chuckle. “You can’t be sad holding Cocoa Puffs. That’s a scientific fact.”

“Exactly. That’s why I came here. Heartbreak and cereal. One of them’s easier to digest.”

There was a pause, awkward but somehow warm.

“You want to, uh…” He nodded toward the cart. “Team up? I’ll get the cereal if you grab the milk.”

You squinted at him. “Is that a pickup line?”

He grinned, all boyish charm. “Only if it works.”

And somehow, it did. You ended up talking in the parking lot for over an hour, cereal boxes sweating beside you in the heat. He made you laugh when you hadn’t smiled in days. You made him admit he sometimes talks to himself in grocery stores to feel less lonely. He gave you his number with a scribbled doodle of a cereal box and the words “emotional support snacks & other services”.

--

Your first real date with Frankie was... memorable. For all the wrong reasons, at first.

He was late—really late. The kind of late where you start double-checking your texts, wondering if you somehow imagined the whole thing. You sat there at the curb outside the little food spot he chose, scrolling through your phone like you weren’t half-convinced you’d been ditched. And just when you were about to call it, there he came—running across the street in the wrong shoes, hair a mess, breathless and apologizing with his whole body like he could rewind time if he said “I’m so sorry” enough times.

“I swear I’m not usually this guy,” he panted. “Well. Maybe a little. But not—not like this.”

You gave him a look that said you’ve got ten minutes to redeem yourself, and he smiled like he knew it.

And then—of course—the food place was horrible. Not even comically bad. Just sad. Soggy fries, music too loud, the kind of menu that tries to be everything and fails at all of it. You picked at your meal, both of you trying to act like you were fine, but the awkward silences kept stretching longer than the spaghetti.

But then, on the way back to his truck, it poured. Without warning, it wasn’t even forecasted. Sheets of rain, out of nowhere. You both ran for it, soaked through in seconds, laughing like idiots and slipping on the pavement. By the time you threw yourselves into his truck, dripping wet and breathless, something shifted.

He turned to you, rain still dripping from his hair, tracing down his jaw, his clothes clinging in all the wrong places—and somehow, he still managed to look impossibly handsome. Like a soaked golden retriever with those wide, hopeful eyes.

“Please don’t write me off yet,” he said, breathless, earnest. “I know this was a disaster, but I swear—there’s more to me than showing up late and picking a place with bad fries. Just… give me one more chance. Don’t blow this off before it even has the chance to be something real.”

You looked at him, really looked at him. Big guy, sure. Intimidating build. A jawline that could cut glass. But his voice? Gentle,honest. A little scared. He wasn’t trying to impress you. He was just asking you to see him. And somehow, that was enough.

The next date was the one that got you.

You parked out near the cliffs by the beach, where the town’s lights looked like fireflies in the distance. You sat on the bed of his old truck, wrapped in hoodies and too many layers, talking for hours. About everything and nothing. Music. Movies. That weird dream you had once that still makes you think. He didn’t try anything. Not even when you leaned closer. You felt the way he held back—how hard he was trying to be good, to be respectful. You respected him more for that than anything.

He got a good night kiss, soft and slow and just a little trembling when he dropped you off at dawn. And you were already falling—head over heels—for this man who looked like he could ruin you, but instead made you feel like you mattered.

It didn’t take long to learn he was fragile underneath all that calm. The things he’d seen. The things he’d done. His time serving had left scars, even if he rarely spoke about them. But when he did, it was in those quiet, vulnerable flashes that left your heart aching. He didn’t believe in himself much. Didn’t think he was anything special. And God, that hurt you.

So you tried—clumsily but fiercely—to show him how beautiful he was, even with all the cracks. Especially because of them. You told him the cracks let the light in. And he believed you, sometimes. That was enough.

You fell fast. It was messy and a little reckless. You signed the lease for your first flat together just weeks in. It was small and smelled like paint and coffee and hope. He asked you to marry him one night, tangled up in sheets, skin still warm, everything feeling too good to be real. And you said yes without thinking. Everyone warned you it was too fast.

You didn’t listen.

You moved into that tiny beach apartment with the leaky faucet and the crooked blinds, always a little messy—like the two of you. Clothes left on chairs. Takeout containers that stayed a day too long. Hair in the sink. Socks with no match. Two lives crammed into one, with all the noise and beauty that came with it.

And now?

Now it’s real, hard sometimes.

Because love is one thing. But living together—merging routines, wounds, moods, habits—it’s a whole new kind of intimacy. The kind where you fight about dishes and then kiss ten minutes later because someone said something dumb that made you laugh. The kind where his PTSD wakes him up and your anxiety keeps you up, and somehow you still hold each other through it. The kind where love isn’t always soft—but it shows up.

--

It was one of those nights when everything just paused.

The waves rolled in like a lullaby against the sand. You hadn’t meant to end up out here—barefoot, wind-tousled, sitting on the tailgate of Frankie’s truck parked just off the beach road. But after the long day, after the tension and the silence that followed one of those small, sharp fights that didn’t mean much but still stung—it was where you found yourself.

You didn’t need to talk anymore. Not tonight.

Instead, you reached for him. Gently. Like you were afraid to spook whatever fragile thing was opening up between you again.

Your hand found his—fingertips trailing up his arm, across the faded fabric of his shirt, to cup his jaw with a kind of reverence you weren’t even sure you meant to show. But you did. You always did, with him.

And that’s when Frankie’s breath caught.

Like you were holding something sacred.

And maybe, in a way, you were.

He leaned into your touch like a man starved for softness, like the world had always demanded he be hard and quiet, and you were the first one who’d ever said—you can rest now—without saying a single word.

His lashes dipped briefly, overwhelmed by the tenderness in your eyes, but he didn’t look away. He couldn’t. Because if there’s one thing he knows now—it’s that he never wants to miss the way you look at him when you’re sure. When you’re steady. When you still choose him, despite everything.

His hand found yours where it rested on his chest, then traced down slowly until his thumb brushed your ring. That modest little thing you both picked out more with hearts than wallets, when everything was still new and terrifying and breathtaking all at once.

Frankie twisted it gently between his fingers, eyes dropping to where it caught the last light of dusk.

“I’m gonna buy you something better one day,” he said quietly. “Something that shines like you do. You deserve nothing but the best.”

You shook your head, a soft breath of laughter caught in your throat, and reached up to cradle his face between your hands.

“I’ve already got everything I need,” you murmured, straddling his lap on the truck bed, knees bracketing his hips as you leaned in closer, forehead to his. “You. This. That ring? It’s not about the size. It’s about who gave it to me.”

Your thumbs brushed the stubble along his jaw as you looked at him—really looked at him. And in the fading blue of the evening turning into night, with the sky swallowing the horizon and the world going quiet around you, Frankie looked impossibly soft.

Vulnerable in a way he rarely let anyone see.

And God—you were sure you’d never seen anything more beautiful.

He held your gaze like it anchored him.

“What’d I do,” he whispered, voice thick and low and rough around the edges, “to deserve hands like yours on me?”

It wasn’t doubt, not really.

It was wonder.

A kind of awe that always lived right under his skin when you looked at him like that—like he was more than his past, more than his mistakes.

He lifted his hand again, fingers brushing your wrist, slow and reverent where your pulse beat steady beneath skin. Just to feel it. Just to know.

“You steady me,” he said, barely louder than the ocean behind you. “Even when I don’t know what the hell I’m doing—you make it feel like maybe I can figure it out.”

Then, that small, tired smile you loved. A little crooked.

“God, I love you.”

His voice cracked just slightly at the end.

“So damn much.”

And when you leaned in, when your lips found his again, he didn’t rush it. Didn’t deepen the kiss like a man trying to take—he received it. Held it. Let it wash over him like grace.

Let the way you were loving him rewrite all the ways he thought he was too broken to be loved like this.

thanks for reading 💌

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[slayfics]

You tend to Katsuki.

1k words

You sat in the common room of the dorms making yourself busy at one of the tables studying. Absentmindedly you turned the pages of your book and scanned the materials, not actually digesting any of the information.

Secretly, you weren't concerned with studying. Your actual reason for hanging around the common room was to wait for Katsuki to come back. It was Saturday, which meant he was with Shoto at their supplemental classes to make up for not passing the provisional licensing exam.

Finally, after what seemed like too long, Katsuki came bursting through the door. An annoyed expression on his face as he turned to yell some obscenities back at Shoto.

Shoto followed him through the front door and Katsuki turned sharply away from him. It was apparent that Katsuki was eager to get away from the two-toned-haired boy.

Katsuki glanced over at you briefly but kept making his way through the common room. His cheek had a large bandage that was already turning crimson from whatever wound was on the other side.

You watched as the two boys split ways, Shoto made his way over to talk to Hanta and Katsuki vanished into the elevators to go up to his room.

You waited a moment before texting Katsuki.

[You]: That looks like a nasty cut. What happened?

[Katsuki]: I hate texting. Just come up.

You happily shut your book and rushed over to his dorm.

Knocking gently, you heard Katsuki's irritated yell on the other side, "Told ya already- just come in."

You opened the door and were met with the sight of him putting away the belongings he brought to the extra classes today. The bandage on his cheek being in better view, you could see that it was in desperate need of being tended to.

"That looks even worse up close," You stated.

"Tch- It's not even a big deal," he replied, downplaying the injury.

"How did it happen?" You asked.

Katsuki grunted as he finished putting away his stuff and sat down on the edge of his bed, "Some dumb ass training where we couldn't use our quirks. What the fuck is the point of that?!" He said irritated.

"Sounds like your worst nightmare," you laughed trying to lighten his mood. You fixated your eyes back on the bandage and the blood stain that now soaked through. "Why don't you let me change that for you?" You offered.

"HAH? I can do that myself idiot," he said being stubborn.

"I know you can but- I need practice. Tending to wounds is a part of hero work too, right? So- let me practice on you," you suggested, hoping that excuse would change his mind.

Katsuki thought for a moment before shrugging his shoulders in agreement, "First aid is in the bathroom cabinet," he said gesturing to the bathroom.

You rummaged through his cabinet to find another bandage and antiseptic ointment. "I don't think I've ever done this for someone else before," you stated as you came back into the room and sat next to him on the bed.

"It isn't hard," Katsuki huffed. Resting his elbows on his thighs as he kept his gaze straight forward giving you better access to his cheek.

You scooted closer and crossed your legs onto the bed to tend to his wound. "These classes have really been a pain for you, hu?" You asked, gently peeling away the soiled badge on his cheek.

Katsuki clicked his tongue annoyed by your comment, "It's nothing I can't handle!" He barked, eyebrows furrowed, and nose scrunched.

You giggled at his response, "Such a tough guy," you teased and squeezed some of the antiseptic ointment onto your finger. "You know- it can be both things. Something you can handle and a pain at the same time."

Katsuki opened his mouth ready to make another snarky comment when your finger met his wound. Any snide remark he had ready, vanished at the gentle way your finger grazed over his cut. Eyebrows softened, and shoulders dropped he let out a sigh.

The ointment stung, but he wasn't focused on that at all. Instead, he was focused on the way his heart rate increased the second you made contact with him. He hated it- but wanted more at the same time.

"What? Going speechless on me now?" You asked teasing his sudden muteness. You prepared the new bandage and got it ready to place over his wound.

"No," he grunted, voice lower than before. Another moment passed before he spoke, "The classes are a pain. God dam Icy Hot gets on my nerves. Acting like we're friends now just because we're in these shitty classes together. He makes everything a hundred times worse." Katsuki explained as you gently pressed the new bandage on to his cheek.

You smiled at Katsuki's honesty and decided to tease him further. "Wait- you mean he isn't your best friend? That's strange he's been telling everyone that."

"The fuck? Are you serious?" Katsuki asked, turning to you, his eyes catching yours. Noticing for the first time how close you really were to him, his cheeks flushed.

You smiled and a giggle escaped you. Immediately he recognized the amusement on your face. If it was anyone else, he'd blow a fuse but- with you, he was distracted by the way your smile lit up your eyes and the way your laughter forced him to smile too.

"Tch- brat. Don't mess with me like that," he said and playfully shoved your shoulder, causing you to laugh even harder.

"I'm sorry- I couldn't help it," you said in between giggles.

If you weren't laughing so hard maybe you would have noticed the soft smile Katsuki had or the way his cheeks warmed slightly.

"Whatever-," he said brushing off his emotions. "You eat yet?" He asked.

"Nope," you answered laughter subsiding.

"Good- let's go downstairs I'll make us something." He offered.

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