#emerald's drabble

[agreeewrites]

i would love to see 1000 secrets with barty crouch or regulus 😏

combining this with another reg request!! I have one coming for Barty soon too dw 🫶

1000 secret kisses | R.B.

cw: MDNI 18+, smut mentioned, secret relationships, fwb, drinkin

masterlist

Alright, Barty. Truth, dare, or shot,” Dorcas said, still coughing after the gulp of firewhisky she just took.

“Truth,” Barty replied.

“What's your most controversial opinion about someone in the group?” Dorcas challenged, and everyone ooooh’d.

Barty took a contemplative drag of his joint, then—“I would bet my left nut that Regulus is a virgin,” Barty said through a cloud of smoke.

“No way, look at him!” Pandora argued. “He fucks, guarantee it.”

The groups heads swiveled to Regulus, who was reclined lazily in arm chair, knees spread, a cigarette dangling from his fingertips. He looked supremely fuckable to you, like he always did.

That's why you've been secret friends with benefits for most of the school year.

You and Regulus were an unlikely pair; Reg, a certified grouch with a distaste for socializing, and you, a gifted student and natural flirt. But you found him fascinating, deeply intelligent and perceptive, with an artistic heart, even if he preferred not to show it. And he found you endearing, infectious in your enthusiasm.

You'd kissed him after a drunken night in Hogsmeade, and he'd sought you out the following day in the library. Now, you snuck away every chance you got, stealing secret moments around every corner, in every classroom, praying your friends never discovered the truth, lest you never hear the end of it.

This was just for the two of you, and you preferred it that way.

“I'm not saying he isn't sexy!” Barty argued. “I'm saying he couldn't be bothered to fuck someone, too busy reading poetry and glaring.”

“And you expect me to, what? Fuck everything with legs like you, Junior?” Regulus bit back.

“No, but like—I’ve never even seen you glance at someone,” Evan chimed in. “You've never talked about fancying someone, or gotten flustered.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

“Nothing shakes him, and he'd never tell you half-wits if he fancied someone because you can't keep your mouths shut,” Xeno laughed.

“It's not like it's anyone's business anyways,” you added, stealing the joint from Barty and taking a puff. “It's his business who he does, or doesn't, fuck.”

“Oh, come off it. He hasn't even had a crush on you, and we've all had a crush on you,” Barty said.

You nearly choked on your hit. “You're full of shit, Junior.”

“It's true! We talked about it the other day!”

You risked a glance at Regulus while you fanned the smoke from around your face, and found him glaring down at his lap, his expression was calm, but you'd long ago learned to judge his true feelings by his pale eyes. And right now, the hostility in them could raze the castle.

That must have been the day he abruptly dragged you from your dorm and into an empty classroom. He toyed with you until you cried, begging him to get you off. And when he finally let you ride him, you weren't allowed to come until you told him exactly who you belonged to. Making you spell out his entire name, letter by letter, thrust by thrust.

Regulus Arcturus Black.

Your pussy shivered just thinking about it.

“Can we get on with the game, please?” Pandora huffed. “It's y/n’s turn.”

Barry grinned over at you, and you groaned. Why on Salazar's shitty earth did you think it was a good idea to sit next to him?

“Truth, dare, or shot, my darling?” Barty asked, his voice a seductive purr.

You really didn't want to take a shot of that lukewarm swill, and you had a hunch of what Barty's question would be: do you fancy any of us? Leaving you with one option.

“Dare.”

Barty’s eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together like a supervillain. “You've made a grave error, my dearest y/n.”

“Don't be an ass, Crouch. Play fair,” Regulus warned, the edge of his voice sharper than was probably necessary.

“Oh, you'll like this Reggie, don't worry.” Barty presented his palms to you, like he was offering a gift. “Treasure, I dare you to make Regulus blush.”

“That's not fair!” Pandora argued. “How is she supposed to do that?”

“By any means necessary.” Barty grinned.

You looked at Regulus, who was already looking at you. “I don't want to cross any lines—”

“And when she fails?” Regulus asked, a hint of a smirk on his pretty mouth. Baiting you.

“Then she takes two shots,” Barty wagered.

You looked back and forth between them, all eyes on you. “Deal,” you said, pushing to your feet.

Regulus' eyes widened a fraction, like he didn't expect you to actually go for it, but he vastly underestimated your pettiness. And you would love nothing more than to be the thing that made Regulus finally crack in front of his friends. A tiny consultation for months of keeping secrets.

You sashayed over to him, ignoring the whistles and shouts from your friends, focused entirely on Regulus' smug face. His eyes roamed over you, lingering at the edge of your skirt, the sway of your hips, and you caught the unmistakable sign of his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and his arrogant expression faltered.

Already, you were making him sweat.

You knew none of your regular tricks would work on him, he was impervious to flirting, but you had an ace up your sleeve.

Carefully, you perched on the arm of his chair, being mindful to not actually touch him, knowing it would bother him to have you so close without being able to touch. He shifted a little in his seat, a fraction closer to you, fingers tightening on his cigarette.

You took a pull from the joint, filling your lungs with its acrid burn. You looked at Regulus expectantly, and he smirked before tilting his head back for you. You leaned in and he parted his lips, letting you blow the smoke into his mouth.

Your friends continued to whoop and cheer, but you focused on Regulus' proximity, the hazy feeling coarsing through your blood.

Merlin, you wanted to kiss him.

Instead, when the last of the smoke left your lungs and entered his, you shifted to whisper in his ear. “Took that hit so well, sweet boy,” you purred, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear.

You felt his body hitch, wanting to cough up the smoke, but he managed to blow it out of the corner of his mouth, casting you vicious side eye. To your delight, you noticed a delicate pink stain was crawling up his neck, warming the tops of his cheekbones.

“She did it!” Evan cheered, and the rest of the group roared in approval.

“Brat,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. You knew you'd be paying for it later, but it was so worth it to know you had an affect on him no one else did.

You sauntered back over to your seat, smiling ear to ear and basking in the groups praise.

Regulus tried to play it off, but there was no going back now. And you knew he was in trouble when it was finally his turn.

“Alright, Reggie,” Pandora said. “Truth, dare, or shot.”

You already knew what he would pick: Reg hated booze, and would rather run around the common room naked than fess up to something.

“Dare,” he said, taking a bold glance at you.

Pandora caught it, of course, and a tendril of uncertainty coiled in your stomach.

“I dare you to make y/n blush back.”

Regulus huffed a low laugh. “Come on, Dora. Give me a challenge.”

You glared at him, and he winked back. Maybe it was the weed, or his competitive nature, but you'd never seen him so brazen.

Everyone ooooh’d.

“Fine, I dare you to kiss one person in the circle!”

Your heart sunk. Even if it was platonic, a stupid dare, you didn't particularly want to see Regulus kiss someone else. Your feelings for Regulus has grown over the course of the your secret relationship, and while neither of you were ready for labels, that didn't mean you wanted to share him, or vice versa if the night in the classroom was any indication.

Regulus narrowed his eyes at her. “Not everyone consents to being kissed by me.”

“I consent!” They all chorused, and you inwardly groaned.

“What? You've never fucked and you've never kissed someone?” Barty teased, ramping up the pressure.

“Fuck off, Crouch,” Regulus hissed. The game was getting to him, and your friends were feasting on his rare display of discomfort.

You'd feel bad for him if you weren't feeling so sorry for yourself. Reg would probably kiss Barty just to shut him up, and then storm off to bed. Leaving you to decipher his words and actions like every night spent without him there to prove his affection with his hands and mouth.

Shit, maybe this arrangement had gotten more out of control than you realized.

“How the fuck is Sirius such a lady-killer, and his little brother is the virgin fuckin’ Mary?��� Barty was too busy laughing at his own jokes to notice Regulus get up and prowl across the circle towards him.

Barty finally noticed when Reg was almost on top of him, but at the last second, Regulus pivoted. His hand shot out to grab you by the hair, roughly tilting your head back for the bruising kiss he planted on your unsuspecting lips.

You squeaked in surprise, but quickly gave way for him, melting under his firm, insistent mouth as his tongue delved between your teeth to taste you.

As quickly as he swept in, he was gone, leaving you wide eyed and breathless as he stalked back to his seat and dropped into it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What was it you said? ‘Y/n has the most gorgeous mouth you'd ever seen’?” Regulus said, a mocking edge in his voice. “That you'd ‘give anything to taste her'?”

Barty gaped like a fish.

Regulus smirked. “I’ll have that left bollock now. And I'll take the other one if I hear my girl’s name on your mouth again, you prick.”

Everyone gasped, including you, but Regulus didn't even flinch.

“Understood?” He glared at Barty, then the others, until each one of them lowered their eyes in submission.

Regulus beckoned you forward with two fingers and you jumped up, crossing the space between you and allowing him to pull you into his lap. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling you in for another kiss, little more than a peck, but it still made your head spin.

“So, secrets out?” You asked, meeting his eyes.

Regulus shrugged, pecking your cheek. “It doesn't change anything,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’m yours.” He kissed your nose, your temple, your lips, down your neck, until all of your friends dispersed, making disgusted noises as they fled such a public display of affection.

But you couldn't be happier, grinning like a fool as you basked in a thousand not-so-secret kisses.

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[crescenthistory]

Hello, may i request a prompt "are we friends?" between f!reader and the slytherin skittles? Where the reader used to attend Ilvermorny but had trauma from it (like bullying and fallout with friends). So she doesn’t want to intrude on the friendship that the skittles already have. Oh and they’re all in their sixth year. Thank you 🙏

hi lovely, thank you for this cute concept<33 i didn't explicitly emphasise what your past at ilvermorny was to leave it dubious and open to every reader

Prompt: F.3 "Are we friends?"

Words: 2.2k

Warnings/tags: gn!reader, use of y/n, ilvermorny!reader (no specified nationality), implied troubled background at ilvermorny, mental illness/insecurity shown through reader's pov, odd friendship dynamics, found family, intended as platonic!slytherin skittles x reader but can be read as romantic if you want<3

You weren't entirely sure what happened.

One day you were being thrown into what felt like a wild zoo filled with any and every kind of person you could possibly imagine, clad in dark robes and chattering around in hundreds of different accents, and you were decidedly determined to isolate yourself away from the masses and live a solitary life at Hogwarts.

The next, you were sitting in the library and the same group of Slytherins that sat with you yesterday – and strangely the day before that, and the day before that – plopped down around you and made themselves at home. As if this was simply the norm, as if it was a given that their seat was the one beside you.

You weren't offended or uncomfortable, necessarily, but you were certainly... confused. You didn't mind them being there, yet their presences were strange to you and you could not make sense of this disconnect in your mind.

When you arrived at Hogwarts a month ago, you had felt nothing short of publicly humiliated when you were brought up to the Sorting Hat after the ocean of 11 year-olds had been passed through it for the past hour. It was apparently not a common occurrence that students transferred in from other schools, especially not Ilvermorny, and there was no protocol for how to handle it. Instead of taking your Ilvermorny house into consideration and putting you in the Hogwarts house that most closely resembled it, Dumbledore himself had decided that this jittery 7th year student go through the same process as everyone else.

McGonnagall had pitied you enough to grab your shoulder before you went up to whisper to you, "The hat is your friend, not foe, Mx. L/N. Do not fear it."

With entirely too many eyes on you, you climbed the steps and gingerly sat down on the seat. Unlike with the kids, the Sorting Hat fit you rather snuggly, leaving you unfortunately without the much sought after shelter of the brim.

You solved the solution by looking down in your lap, trying not to visibly startle when a voice spoke in your mind.

Transfer student, huh? Haven't had one of you in a while. Most certainly interesting...

You reminded yourself friend not foe and closed your eyes, trying to will the hat to be merciful and grant you reprieve. To put you in a house where you can get what you need – solitude, privacy, quiet. It was just a year. You could go through a year if you were just left alone.

To your shock – though perhaps it shouldn't have been – the hat responded to your thoughts.

What you need, you say? Well, I do believe I can help in that regard. Keep your mind open, dear one.

The next word the hat spoke was out loud, not in your mind – it yelled out "SLYTHERIN". At the time, you didn't know whether to be relieved, confused or terrified. Unbeknownst to you, a certain group of 7th year Slytherins sitting at the end of the long table had shared curious looks and wide grins upon the announcement.

Those Slytherins were the very same strewn around you today, on various furniture all surrounding the same large oak table that was almost invisible beneath all your parchments and books.

You were sitting on one end of a settee, legs crossed and wrists resting on the table, somewhat jittery. On the other side sat Regulus Black in a similar position, his face as impassive as ever and turned down into a book that you were quite confident was not in the curriculum. Opposite you on a similar sofa, Barty Crouch Jr. laid upside down, with his legs thrown over the back of the sofa and his neck craning in a way that simply could not be comfortable where it rested on the seat. Pandora Rosier was sitting cross-legged on the ground beside Barty's head, braiding a dozen tiny braids into his hair, mixing black and acid green strands together absentmindedly. Her twin brother Evan Rosier was pretending to ignore whatever Barty was talking about as he did his homework, but you could see how his ears were perked up. Lastly, Dorcas Meadowes sat on an armchair beside the settees, twirling her wand and looking every bit like she was thinking of something she shouldn't.

You would be the first to admit that they were interesting people. In another life, perhaps you would even spend time together on purpose – but now, above all else one might want to know about them, you wanted to know why they were here.

It had started by them making space for you on the Slytherin table that first day, and afterwards they always left an open space there. Not asking, not demanding; it was as if they were just assuming you would sit there. And you didn't know where else to sit, so you did. Then the same thing happened in your classes – you sat down at an empty table, and before you knew it, one of them was taking the empty seat beside you.

There was never any proper introductory conversation, never any invitation into a friendship, yet they found you everywhere. It was not as if they didn't talk to you when they were there, though; from the very beginning, they were cracking jokes with and around you and roping you into their odd conversations. Learning more about you as you went instead of interrogating you on the spot.

It was sudden and unexpected and you didn't know what to do about it.

"Then I told him precisely where he could shove it and– are you even listening to me?" Barty cut himself off to look accusatory at Evan, whose eyebrow was now quirked up while his eyes remained trained on his parchment.

"Hm?" Evan asked absentmindedly, though you were almost entirely sure it was just to rile the other boy up.

Evan was usually successful in such endeavors, and this was no exception, judging by the shrieking gasp that escaped Barty. "You absolutely bloody wanker, how dare you– this is a good story!"

"Maybe," Evan drawled. "But it lost its charm around the third time I heard it."

Barty whipped his head sideways to stare daggers into Evan. "Salazar's soggy balls, this is a new story, I swear." He then rolled his head backwards to look at you upside down, pinning you to the seat with the same accusatory tone. "You were listening to me, right, Drâga?"

You made a reluctant face. "Sorry, I didn't realise you were talking to me."

Barty let out a theatrical huff and threw his hands up in the air for effect, nearly hitting Pandora on the way, causing Evan to give his wrist a slap, still without looking. "Of course I was talking to you – I'm talking to you all. By Merlin, you're all awful friends."

Though Barty continued on with his grumbling, you felt frozen in place by his last word. Before you could think more of it, the words tumbled out of your mouth. "We're what now?"

Dorcas tilted her head to the side, looking between you and Barty. "Oh, he didn't mean it Y/N, he's just a loudmouthed arse. You're still getting used to it."

"I resent that." Barty pointed at Dorcas as he spoke before he grabbed one of Evan's parchments, curled it up into a ball and threw it at her. "I'll have you know, I'm a fucking delight."

You were unaffected by their banter, eyes still narrowed at the lot of them, trying to decipher and understand what the hell was going on.

"You're thinking hard." Regulus remarked from your right, finally looking up from his book. At his rare contribution to conversation, Evan and Pandora seemed to perk up as well, and you suddenly felt entirely too much like you were being stared down. It was worse than the Sorting Hat.

"I–" you began, but cut yourself off and pressed your lips together with furrowed brows. "You think we're friends?"

Whatever they expected your answer to be, that did not seem to be it, based on their empty gazes. Dorcas reared her head backwards just a little, while Barty did a full body spin to land him in a mostly-upright position on the sofa – this time Evan yanked Pandora out of reach of Barty's swinging legs.

"What do you mean, do I think we’re friends?" Barty questioned then, almost offended. "Don’t pull my leg, why else would we be here? Either way, what I was trying to say–"

Barty's rant was once again cut off, this time simply by Dorcas holding up one hand in his direction while her eyes remained dutifully trained on you. "Love, did you not think we're friends?" she asked. Her voice was so painfully gentle, so caring, that you wanted to shy away from it, to pack up your bag and run and hide.

You realised that that was not a possibility. Instead, you tried to shrug as casually as you could and not let your emotions show. "Well, why would we be? We don't know each other, do we?"

You dared a glance sideways to see Regulus looking at you with a seemingly unimpressed expression, but you saw the twitch in the corner of his mouth. Evan opposite you, though, was not hiding his wide grin whatsoever. "Don't we know each other, love?" he asked then, seemingly partially smug.

"Yeah, if you don't know me, that is because you lot of wankers never listen. But I most certainly know you, L/N." Barty gestured with his finger in your general direction, as if he was preaching, which Evan yet again slapped away – though in favour of pulling Barty closer into his side.

"You don't know me," you tried, voice shaky yet growing somewhat frustrated with the situation.

"Of course we do," Dorcas intercepted. "I know you loathe breakfast but adore dinner. I know you prefer tea over coffee, I know that you like the sweets from back home better than those from Honeydukes."

"And I know that you're ridiculously patient, both with randos you're paired up with in class and with us, your friends," Barty added with a deadpan. "I know your real laughter is a very cute snort. I know you dislike being pranked but enjoy watching them play out, which is why we never play them on you but always around you."

"You're kind and you're bloody bright," Evan said with a nod, as if this was a natural conclusion. “Your best subjects are all of my worst ones, which is a joy. Watching your passion for them is the most enjoyable, though.”

"And you're peculiar just like us." Pandora finally spoke up with a smile on her lips and a glint in her eye. "That's why we go so well together – we're the same."

At some point in their conversation with you, your mouth fell open as you listened to them recount everything they had picked up about you over the past few weeks. The moment didn't feel real, it felt fabricated by some awfully optimistic and naive six year old still living in your mind, one that was readily crushed long before your transfer. You didn't realise they had noticed you so much.

You're brought out of your stupor by Regulus' quill being poked into your side, demanding your attention. You turned your head to find the twitch of his lip had turned into a small, knowing smile. "Even if we don't know everything about where you've been, we know who you are. You don't need to tell us anything for us to understand that."

"Yeah, what he said!" Barty exclaimed with glee, kicking his feet up onto the sofa as he leaned his entire weight on Evan.

“Even before we knew anything about you, we were friends.” Pandora was looking out through a window, seemingly in thought and awfully happy at being so. “In a way, we’ve always been friends, I suppose. When it just works like this.” 

You weren’t always sure you understood what Pandora meant, but this time, you felt it in your heart.

"Sorry love, but you're kind of stuck with us now. Should have sat with someone else on your first day." Dorcas shot you a wink at that, and something in your chest seemed to snap into place.

Even when you were asking an awkward question, the atmosphere never changed – there was no pity here, no judgment, just... kinship.

Friendship.

At last, you let a smile begin to bloom from within you, one which you immediately saw reflected back at you in your five new friends.

"No, actually, I don't think I should have."

[lookinghalfacorpse]

okay well that gave me a c!emduo drabble idea of like c!phil having recently moved to the arctic but his injuries from the blast are slowing down the moving/building and making it a lot harder to adjust to the cold. Just c!emduo at the early days of living at the cabins together

(context)

/dsmp /rp

When Technoblade seemed focused on splitting wood, Philza limped over to the campfire.

Building Philza's half of the cabin has proven to be difficult work. Not that the building itself was complicated or that the heavy lifting was strenuous, but the arctic itself wasn't the most hospitable building environment. Philza's measuring tape was blown away by the wind at least five times, Techno's axe was hidden under snowfall when he wasn't looking, and their damned fire kept going out.

It was early in the morning, and this new day has thankfully proven to be less windy than the others. Phil was supposed to begin laying down stones for the fireplace when he turned instead to the fire.

"You can't be tired already, old man," Techno smirked over his shoulder. He must've thought he was slick, leaving his work when Techno wasn't looking.

His smile faded when he heard Philza wince upon lowering himself to the ground.

"Whoa, whoa," Techno said, "You good?"

"I'm great," Phil replied with no lack of bitterness, his voice tight with pain. Techno dragged a log over by the fire and lifted his partner onto it, giving him a more comfortable seat than the snowy dirt. "Thanks mate, you didn't have to do that."

"What was that? You're not about 'ta pass out on me or anythin', are you?"

"Nah, I'm alright. It's just," Phil's face scrunched as a wave of pain hit him, "this hip of mine. I'll feel better if I sit by the fire a while." He rubbed a hand along his right hip, massaging away a cramp.

Techno hummed in the back of his throat. His own home stood nearby, surrounded by the various materials he's gathered in the hopes that his friend would join him here. He's been dreaming of this for what felt like decades-- any short period of time away from Phil felt like ages, and he could minimize that time. But...

"Suddenly this isn't feelin' like all that great of an idea, huh?"

"Hm?"

"Why am I makin' you live in the literal arctic when the cold hurts you so bad, man? Maybe we gotta look at other places?"

"I--" Phil looked up at him with surprise. "No, Techno. No. This is your home."

"I want it to be your home--"

"I love it here."

Taken aback by his sudden sincerity, Techno searched Phil's face for any sign of hesitancy. He saw, instead, a pair of warm blue eyes and a nose made rosy from the cold. He saw snowflakes falling magically around his friend, settling sometimes on his shoulders and hair.

"I love it here," Phil repeated. "This will get easier. I have all the time in the world to heal from this, I just--" he smiled, "I just need to sit by the fire for a while, is all."

Techno sighed. There was no arguing with Philza Minecraft when he had his heart set on something. "Okay," he allowed, "but if you're gonna change your mind, you better do it before I finish diggin' the basement out."

Phil chuckled. Techno worked harder than ever to ensure that he had a nicer fireplace to sit at.

[candyrockpop]

I’m doing a project for my civics class. I feel the need to get some public opinion.

[bridgyrose]

RWBY girls being useless lesbians trying to get free drinks at the bar.

(I did change this slightly since Blake is canonically bi and I do have a few bi/pan headcannons for the girls)

Ruby let out a heavy sigh as she listened to Yang and Weiss argue again on a night out. Normally it was easier to tune them out with a conversation with Blake, but since she had decided to leave early, it left her with listening to them argue as if they were in a relationship. But instead of the normal arguments of what kind of music was best to listen to or whether or not dust was actually from space, she was stuck listening to them argue about their love lives. Or their lack of one. 

“All I’m saying is that I could easily get anyone here to come to bed with me,” Yang said with a smirk. “Most people are easy to entertain that way.” 

Weiss rolled her eyes. “If that’s the case, then why havent you?” 

“I’d just rather wait until I get to know someone before going that far. But what’s your excuse? You keep claiming that you’ve got people lining up to keep you company at night, and yet you’re always complaining about being single.” 

“Just because I have a buffet to choose from doesnt mean I need to sample everything.” 

“Then why dont we settle this once and for all?” 

“What did you have in mind?” 

Yang gave Weiss a grin and looked out towards the bar. “We���ll see who can get the most free drinks by the end of the night. But it only counts if it comes from a woman.” 

Weiss paused for a moment. “Why not men?” 

“Because Rubes here is only into women and we have to keep it fair.” 

Ruby nearly choked on her drink as she felt Yang nudge her side. “W-wait, why am I part of this?” 

“You’ve been moping ever since Penny went back to Atlas,” Yang answered. “I’m not saying you need to move on, but you need to let yourself get out there again. You know, meet people and have a bit of fun instead of just tagging along with the rest of us when you dont want to stay inside.” 

“And I plan to ask her out.” Ruby paused. “Eventually.” 

Yang rolled her eyes. “She’s not here, you’re lonely, and it’ll be good for you to meet more people. I’ll even sweeten the deal. Whoever can get the most free drinks gets to decide what we do tomorrow.” 

Weiss perked up. “Anything?” 

“Within reason.” Yang pulled out her scroll and smiled. “Its eight o’clock right now, so lets give ourselves two hours to see who wins. Alright?” 

“You’re on,” Weiss said as she got up. 

Ruby watched Yang and Weiss as they got up and started to make their ways off to the nearest tables, her eyes going back to the drink she was nursing. She already wasnt fond of the idea being at the bar and making her way around from table to table to talk to strangers in hopes of getting a free drink wasnt exactly top on her list either. And yet, she knew Yang was right. Penny was away, unsure of when she’d be back, and while she was fine with “eventually” being her answer, but not knowing when eventually would be was getting to her a bit. 

Still, she got up and started to walk around the bar, keeping towards the edge of the building. She looked around at each table before finally picking one and sitting down at a table where a girl with green hair was sitting. 

Ruby gave the girl a nervous smile. “I’m Ruby.”

“Emerald,” Emerald answered back with her own smile. “So, what brings you to my lonely table?” 

“I thought I could give you some company and-” 

“I’ll pass on that.” Emerald got up and flashed another smile to Ruby. “But I wish you luck on your endeavors.” 

Ruby sighed and slumped over in her chair. It may have only been the first girl she went to, but even the rejection stung. She looked over at Yang and Weiss, watching them flirt with the girls they were sitting with. 

“Down on your luck, huh?” 

Ruby looked up to see a girl with amber eyes looking down at her with a smirk across her lips. She sat up and sighed. “Something like that.” 

The girl nodded. “I’m Cinder.” 

“Ruby.” 

“Seems like you and your friends are on the prowl tonight. Looking for anything specific?” 

“Not really,” Ruby admitted. “Mostly just here with my sister and our teammate. Or at least I’m supposed to be.” 

Cinder nodded and looked over at Yang and Weiss. “Looks like they’re striking out about as much as you are.” 

“It… wasnt exactly a great idea.” Ruby sighed and picked up the menu on the table. “I didnt really want to be here to begin with.” 

“And why wouldnt a pretty girl like you want to be out in a bar like this? Unless you’re already in a relationship.” 

“N-no.” Ruby fiddled with the menu before setting it down. “At least… not yet.” 

“So why not just unwind and have some fun?” Cinder got up and smiled at Ruby. “I’ll even pay for a drink for you.” 

Ruby nodded and gave Cinder a smile. “Alright, one drink.”

[viktorscane]

🐦‍⬛👑

‘in the bedroom after the war’

when technoblade left the dream smp. phil adjusted relatively quickly. after all, the two had spent plenty of time away from each other in the past and he knew it was only a matter of time before they would see each other again.

one thing he would never quite get used to though, was the quiet. while techno was never a super talkative person the creaking of the wooden floorboards, the mumbling to himself, the front door opening and closing often as the piglin hybrid went about his daily chores, the dogs barking, the scribbling of quill on parchment. all sounds that were inherently technoblade were suddenly gone.

the first few days were hard, a grief settling over phil’s heart as he tried to navigate the silence and understand why his closest companion left so suddenly. on the fourth day, though he awoke to the usual caw-ing of his crows outside. he rolls over, the sun streaming in through the window bathing the room in a beautiful pink and golden glow. it was peaceful and quiet as his new life typically was.

he stirs more and finally pushes himself up out of the large, empty bed. pushing himself down the stairs to the still smoldering fire. he throws a few logs on top, adding water into the kettle perched atop it. reminding himself to add only enough for himself, as he had been making enough to serve two the last few days.

he rubs his eyes sleepily, giving a crow a light scratch on the head as he passes it. it caws shrilly, staring pointedly at the seed bag in the corner of the kitchen. “i know, i know.” he mutters. “let me make my tea first, mate.”

he opens a cabinet to grab a mug from the shelf, he notices that most of the clean mugs were on the highest shelf. most of them being varying shades of red and pink, belonging to techno. phil sighs and pushes himself onto his tiptoes and reaching almost blindly to get one. the shelf buckles a bit under the weight and the closest mug tips and down it goes.

it hits the ground with a loud thud, phil swears and rubs his temple with annoyance.

dropza LOL dropza dropza OLD AGE LOL fallza E

he pauses, quiet voices echoing around his brain. he takes a step backwards looking around the room to find the source of the voices. only being met with more quiet chants of ‘PHIL!’

it took a moment for his tired mind to process that these voices existed in his mind, but were very much real. he wracks his brain for some sort of explanation, he hadn’t hit his head recently right? was the events of the last few weeks finally taking a toll on his psyche?

he listens to the chants for a second longer, the mumbling blended together mostly but some things stuck out to him. one phrase in particular was very very familiar.

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!

it was a phrase that techno mumbled to himself often and had mentioned that the voices in his head spoke that phrase like a mantra. from his understanding, when technoblade had ascended to godhood the voices were a side effect. they mostly rambled about whatever he was doing in the moment but they also helped him during combat to give him information about the other party. they were bloodthirsty and violent but techno always regarded them as a part of him.

phil bends down and picks up the mug, it remarkably hadn’t broken in the fall. he turns it over in his hands brushing the dust off of it. he runs his fingers over the crown that had been carved into the front of the clay. he remembered techno sitting down with his dagger on the steps of their home and working at the clay. it was clumsily made and the crown was crooked, lines shaky and uneven. but it was so inherently techno that it made phil smile fondly.

the voices rumbled on about what felt like nonesense in the background as phil sets it down on the counter, bracing himself against it.

he could only take this as a sign from his long time companion, friend and ally. sending his greatest assets to phil as if to tell him that he’s okay. his heart ached but he persevered, tipping the boiling water into the mug and adding the tea bag in. he pushes open the curtains, staring out the window towards the brilliant pink and gold that was slowly fading away from the sky as the daylight began to filter in.

“hello there, old friend.” he says softly.

[masqueradereveler21]

*the Emerald trio leaving Transfiguration class together*

Sebastian: Say….if I were to be transfigured into a fly, what would you do?

Ominis: You wouldn’t be much different than you are now, so I’d leave you be.

Sebastian: Boring. Gwen, what say you?

Gwen: I’d trap you in a jar and let my cats play with you.

Sebastian: That’s not very cutesy OR demure of you, Gwendolen.

[v-thinks-on]

“It’s just what a chap needs, what?” proclaimed one Bertram Wooster, gesturing broadly at the balmy eastern shore of the Atlantic.

“Indeed, sir.” The barest upward twitch of Jeeves’s lips indicated that he meant it.

We were visiting the other side of the pond for some welcome recuperation after the Great War had ravaged Europe, myself and Jeeves included.

It was one thing to know about the unknowable forces which have dominion over our world and another to have seen her descend upon the Western front, sparking with electricity which I still felt, making me wary of the shimmering waters.

[patfr8]

[Movie Lore (?)]

Tikal was the one that made the master emerald. It was the only way to subdue Chaos, using the very same gems it created against it. She didn’t like this outcome, but it was the only one that allowed her kind to survive. She used her soul to make the emerald. Only those that have her blood can be the guardians.

When the owls took the emerald, the echidna saw not only how they stole their most powerful artefact, but also a member of their tribe and history. Her descendente would be the ones to take it back. The chief knew this. If the emerald stayed away from an echidna with her blood, Chaos would escape.

Whetū knew that his son would be the only chance they got. His little boy was the future of the tribe. If they won, they would retrieve the emerald and train Knuckles to be a guardian, which was far easier than being a warrior (and safer). If they didn’t, at least he would be safe and alive, just like he always wanted. Like Marama wanted for her kid.

Luckily for the echidna and the whole universe, Knuckles did become the guardian of the master emerald, but he wasn’t alone. There were three guardians in total, a fox, a hedgehog and an echidna, but they’re were good. And the spirit inside the emerald accepted the three equally.

[bunfloras]

trying to think of an epic and cool extra whumpy prompt but all my brain got is. hit phil with a rock. one bird one stone . bonk him in the head. get that loser. Concussed. rock time baby

It’s raining.

No—maybe it’s not. He touches his fingers to his face, and they come away sticky. Rain isn’t sticky. But it’s much too dark to even see his hands, let alone what’s on them. He opts for blissful ignorance instead, and closes his eyes again.

A shame his head hurts so bad. This is a nice spot for a nap.

Drip, drip, drip.

It slides from his hair and down his cheek. He blinks sluggishly—not that there’s much difference between the world behind his eyelids and the world outside. Some of it gets in his mouth. He spits it out, repulsed by the acrid, coppery tang.

The ground is awfully hard beneath him. Not much like grass at all, really. The air smells stale, and wet—like the smell after it rains.

Petrified?

…Petrichor.

He groans, rolling onto his side. The pounding in his head is getting louder, sharper. It’s like footsteps, thumping painfully against the inside of his skull, getting heavier and faster and—

“Phil?”

Hands lift him upward, bracing him against a warm chest. There’s light, now, flickering and orange and much too bright. He glares banefully at it for a moment, then back up at a pink snout and a furrowed brow.

“Go ‘way. ‘M sleepin’.”

Technoblade snorts. Phil swats weakly at him when he’s jostled again, a hoof prodding at his head. It makes fresh pain lance down his skull, and he recoils with a hiss and a twitch of dusty wings.

“Tha’ hurts, y’ fuckin’ asshole…”

“Bruh.” Technoblade hefts him easily up, like little more than a ragdoll in his arms. Phil wishes he’d just fuck off and let him sleep. “Stay awake, old man. You can get yer’ beauty sleep after you aren’t concussed.”

Right. Concussed. That would explain it.

“How did you ever survive on yer’ own for so long? It’s like you have a danger magnet, or somethin’.” Technoblade’s voice is gruff, but even concussed, Phil can sense the undercurrent of worry.

“Five years…” His eyes flutter shut as the spinning and swaying of the world becomes nauseating, but the squeeze of a hand brings him back.

“Yeah, yeah. Five years in a hardcore world, I know. Every player knows.” Technoblade huffs, his breath stirring the hair on Phil’s forehead. “Five years, ‘n a pebble’s what brings you down. Not a good look, man.”

Why did Phil ever agree to take over the world with him again? He opens one eye to glare at his partner.

Technoblade just hums. The hand squeeze’s Phil’s arm again.

“…I’m glad you’re alright, Phil. Don’t go scarin’ me like that again, though.”

“No promises.”

[agreeewrites]

Baby I'm Yours | B.C.J.

feat. Barty Crouch Jr x blackcat!reader

summary: your new boyfriend Barty tells you he loves you, and you…freak tf out (even though you do, in fact, love him too).

cw: MDNI 18+, smut, established relationship, drinking, you are both possessive and mildly toxic, emotional vulnerability (eugh), love confessions, hurt/comfort, hard kinks, choking

an: can be read as a stand-alone, but hits better as part 2 of this fic

masterlist

Barty's POV

“Oi, Crouch!”

Barty looked up from his sketchbook, propped in his lap to keep him occupied while he waited in the courtyard for you and Evan to get out of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Xeno was running towards him down the corridor, robes flapping wildly in his haste.

Barty could practically smell trouble, and it made his heart kick with excitement.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Xenophi—”

“Cut the shit. Y/n is dueling,” Xeno snapped, grabbing Barty by the collar and dragging him from his perch in one of the stone openings.

“Oh! Is she winning?” Barty asked, falling into a jog beside Xeno.

“Not the point. She's going to get expelled.”

“Like I’d ever let that happen,” Barty chuckled.

They rounded the corner and could hear the shouting before they even reached the classroom. Excitement raced under his skin, and he all but kicked down the door in his haste to get to you.

You were up on a desk, robes discarded, absolutely pummeling Amacus Carrow with hexes. Amacus was hidden behind and overturned desk, lamely tossing expelliarmus over his shoulder.

The students formed a ring around you both, roaring with excitement while the Professor tried desperately to talk you down.

Barty skirted around the edge of the group towards you, finding Evan standing just beneath you, watching with a wild grin.

“She's a fucking menace,” Evan cackled, and Barty had to agree.

A vicious, beautiful little menace.

“What'd he do?” Barty asked, watching you dodge a hex effortlessly and throw one back in the same second. His heart was pounding, affection making his blood race. Saints, his cock was damn near about to rip through his trousers he was so fucking turned on.

“He called you a buffoon. And said your tattoos were ugly,” Evan said, cheering when you hit Amacus’ table so hard with stupify it cracked. “I was going to intervene, but she hit him with a book before I even got a word out.”

Barty was going to faint if anymore blood vacated his brain.

He spun a chair around and stepped up onto the table beside you. “Hello, treasure. Chose violence, did we?” You squeaked in surprise when he looped an arm around your waist, spinning you around and plucking your wand from your fingers.

“Barty!” You protested, trying to grab your wand back. “Give me that!”

Amacus, realizing you were disarmed, popped up from behind his desk.

“Ah, ah,” Barty waggled your wand at the perspiring wretch. “She may have the restraint to avoid Azkaban, but I have no such compunction, Carrow.” He gestured to Amacus’s spindly wand. “Rosier will take that, if you please.”

Evan had appeared beside Carrow, holding out his hand expectantly. Carrow dropped it into Evan's palm, red-faced and sputtering.

“Barty,” you said again, voice pitching lower with agitation.

He pressed an appeasing kiss to the crown of your head, handing you your wand back. “I think you've made your point, love,” he said. “Unless you'd like to make a fugitive out of me.”

You blew a strand of hair from your face, scowling at Amacus as he fled the room with his twin in tow. “I suppose not,” you huffed. “But if he runs his fucking mouth again—”

Barty pecked your lips, unable to resist your sharp tongue for another second. “He's a dead-man walking, hm?”

A smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, and your shoulders finally softened. “Something like that.” You rose up onto your toes and kissed him again, his heart pounding against his ribs like it was trying to burst out of his chest to get to you.

Barty helped you down from the table while the rest of the students filed out, grumbling that their bloodbath was cut short. The Professor tried to step up to you, face purple with indignation, but one glare from Barty had them backing off, throwing their hands up in defeat.

“Are you alright, though? He didn't get you?” Barty tilted your chin up, turning your pretty face to the right, then the left to check for damage.

“Not once,” you smirked, and his chest swelled with pride.

“That's my girl,” he cooed, leaning down to draw you in for another, more heated kiss. He swiped his tongue across your lower lip, tasting your cherry lipgloss, before kissing down your neck, wallowing in the sweetness of your perfume, the warmth of your skin. “S’why I love you so much.”

As soon as it slipped out, he felt you stiffen, withdrawing slightly from him. He hadn't meant to say it, though he'd felt it long before you were official, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

He pulled his head back, finding your eyes wide, kiss-stung lips parted in shock. A deer in headlights.

“D-did you just—” you stuttered. He could feel your heart fluttering like a hummingbird under his fingertips. “Y-you love me?”

He smiled, something tender unfurling in his chest. “I do, very much,” he murmured, softening his voice like he was speaking to a frightened animal.

“Bat, I—” you words caught in your throat, and a flicker of hope kindled in his heart. “I have to go.” You turned heel and dashed out of the classroom, nearly taking out Evan and Xeno, who were pretending not to listen by the door.

They grimaced, approaching Barty cautiously.

“Sorry, mate,” Xeno said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Why?” Barty asked, shouldering your bag that you abandoned in your haste.

“Because she—mate, are you with us?” Evan waved a hand in front of his face.

Barty smacked his hand away. “I’m fine, I knew she wasn't going to say it back,” he shrugged.

Sure, it would have been amazing if you said it back, but you didn't have to say it for him to know it was true. He knew you struggled with big displays of emotion, and he wasn't about to goad you into saying something you weren't ready to.

He knew you felt it. You told him with every kiss, every touch, every gesture, from softly tracing his tattoos while you cuddled, to picking fights in the middle of class to defend his honor. Barty knew the truth, and you'd realize it on your own soon enough.

Xeno and Evan were looking at him like he had three heads.

“So why did you say it?” Evan asked.

“Because I felt it?” Barty didn't understand why they were so confused. He’d always worn his heart on his sleeve with you, and that wasn't about to change just because you were finally together. He knew you liked to have all the cards before you made a decision, and now you did.

“But she like, freaked out,” Xeno said, like Barty couldn't practically read the thoughts flying through your mind. “That doesn't worry you?”

Irritation curled along his spine, sharpening his tongue. “I’ve got it under control, Lovegood,” he bit. “Don't strain yourself pretending to give a fuck.”

“Junior—” Evan started.

“Are we ready for dinner? I'm starved,” Barty chirped, uprooting the conversation, and the seed of doubt it was planting in his mind.

Reader’s POV

You sat curled in your bed, staring at the emerald curtain separating you from the rest of the dorm. Barty's words echoed in your mind, ricocheting painfully against your skull.

I love you so much.

I love you so much.

I love you so much.

With every repetition came the same cycle of feelings: terror, elation, guilt, and terror again. You cared for Barty, Merlin, did you care for Barty. It ate you up inside, all the feelings you had for him. Drove you half-mad most of the time.

He was your favorite person, your comfort and your home. You wanted to be with him all the time, and you never wanted to be with anyone.

But love? It seemed impossible, enormous. You choked on it, drowned under it. And though it sounded so sweet on his lips, you just couldn't say it back, and it was tearing you up inside.

You knew how deeply his abandonment wounds went, how sensitive he was to rejection, and you never ever wanted to hurt him that way again. Especially not when he'd brought nothing but wonder and excitement into your life.

He didn't seem particularly upset, but you'd run off so quickly, you weren't sure how he'd actually taken it. For all you knew, you'd shattered his heart, and he'd never want to see you again.

Oh fuck, what if he was if was going to break up with you?

A fresh wave of terror clutched your heart, and you cuddled your stuffed cat closer, praying you hadn't fucked this up.

“Y/n?” Pandora called gently, peeling open your curtain to peek at you. “Barty’s here. Looking rather…fretful.”

Shit, shit, shit. He was here to dump you. This was it.

You stuffed your kitty under your pillows and pushed yourself into a sitting position, wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks. “Let him in,” you mumbled.

Pandora nodded, stepping back, and Barty’s head poked through, dark brows pulled together in concern.

“Oh, baby,” he sighed, taking in your probably pitiful state. “Can I come in?”

You nodded, scooching over so he could climb into your bed. He immediately enveloped you in his arms, cuddling you into his chest. Cigarette smoke clung to his clothes and hair, mixing with the faded traces of his familiar cologne, and it immediately soothed some of your panic.

He was here, and he didn't hate you.

Barty’s heart thumped steadily under your cheek as he peppered kisses along the crown of your head, his hand slipping under your hoodie, well, technically his hoodie, to brush against your skin. He was unusually quiet, his movements slow and gentle.

After a few minutes of loaded quiet, you couldn't hold your tongue any longer.

“I’m really sorry, B,” you mumbled, tracing the lines of the tattoo on his chest peeking through his half-buttoned shirt.

“For what, tres? You did nothing wrong,” he shushed you, squeezing you tighter.

You sniffled, tears springing to your eyes.

He shifted, turning so you were beneath him and he was looking down at you. “Have you spent the last few hours thinking you did something wrong?” He asked, looking genuinely distressed at the suggestion.

Your lips folded into a tight line, not trusting yourself to speak, and you nodded.

“Treasure, no,” he gasped, cradling your face and kissing away the tear that rolled down your cheek. “My sweet, darling, gorgeous girl, you did absolutely nothing wrong. I didn't say that under the assumption you'd say anything back. I said it because I wanted to, because I—” the words caught in his teeth, like he had to bite them back before they wrangled out of his control once again.

“I'm just not ready,” you whispered, shame turning your guts to stone.

“And that's okay—hey, look at me.” He brushed his nose against yours, the softest nuzzle. When you managed to drag your eyes to his, you found them so sincere, so warm. “It's okay, baby. I promise.” He held his pinky up, the nail painted to match your manicure, and you curled your pinky around his. “I promise,” he repeated, resting his forehead against yours.

You couldn't help the nervous giggle that bubbled out of you, relief making you giddy. “I thought you were here to break up with me,” you admitted, reaching up to stroke the sharp angle of his jaw, carding your fingers through his wild hair.

“You what?!” Barty cried, rearing back in shock. “I’d sooner cut my cock off. Perish the fucking thought this instant. Baby, I’m yours.” He swung his leg over you, pining you beneath him. “You must never think that again, understand?”

“Bat—”

His fingers slipped under your arms, tickling along your ribs and making you squeal, bucking underneath his hold as you tried to escape. He was grinning like a fool, and only stopped when he managed to catch both your wrists to pin your arms over your head. “I've got you now, babygirl,” he purred, leaning down to whisper against your ear. “And guess what?”

“Hm?” You arched into him, the frantic, ticklish energy quickly morphing into something heady, intoxicating. The cloying heat only Barty could stoke in your belly.

“I love you,” he whispered against your pulse, sealing it with a kiss against the tender skin.

You sucked in a quick breath, heart tripping over itself, and you could tell instantly that he caught it, his lips curling into a smile.

“My darling, I love you so much.” He licked a stripe up your throat, the scalding caress of his tongue coaxing an airy whine from your lungs. “My favorite girl.” Kiss. “My most precious treasure.” Kiss. “I’m so in love with you it’s driving me mad—”

“Do you ever stop talking?” You silenced him with a greedy kiss, all teeth and tongue and desperation, elated that he was still yours, that he wanted you, loved you, so deeply. You wanted to devour him whole, never feel, never taste, never know anything but him.

Barty chuckled when you broke the kiss to breathe, releasing your hands so you could grab at his shirt, desperately trying to undo the buttons. He braced his hands against your headboard, letting you paw and take whatever you wanted from beneath him while he watched through lust-fogged eyes.

“You sure act like you love me,” he teased, and you pinched his hip, shooting him a glare.

“I love your dick,” you bit back, palming him through his pants, and finally, he shut the fuck up.

Barty’s POV

The Slytherin common room was raging, flashing green and cloudy with fog, music thumbing through the floor and up Barty's legs.

He was deep in a game of beer pong, absolutely smoking Regulus while a crowd watched on. But mentally, he was plotting his next escape to your dorm, where he'd been periodically bringing you drinks in exchange for kisses while you read your new romance book.

This next time, he’d probably stay with you instead of returning. You were probably starting to feel the effects of both the raunchy writing and the alcohol right about now, and that was a combo he wouldn't dare miss.

Just when he lined up his shot, determined to finish poor Reg off, he spotted you coming down the stairs. Dressed in tattered jeans and a pair of fishnets, one of his Sex Pistols tee's hanging loose on your frame…

He completely whiffed the shot.

He didn't care.

“Treasure!” He cried when you spotted him across the room, and everyone swiveled in surprise.

You sauntered over, a big, melty smile on your face, and threw your arms around his neck.

“Hiii, handsome,” you cooed, pulling him down for a kiss.

He could taste the booze on your breath, syrupy and disorienting. “Made the drinks a little strong, did I?” He chuckled, steadying you with an arm around your waist.

“Whaaat? No, m’fine—Dora!” You suddenly lurched away from him, throwing yourself at your best friend. “I missed you!”

“Hi, love. I missed you more,” Pandora laughed, hugging you back and casting Barty an accusatory glare, though her eyes glittered with amusement.

Barty shrugged and held up two fingers, answering her silent question of how many you'd had.

Pandora's eyes widened and she pointed at herself, then you, then held up two fingers behind your back.

Barty burst out laughing, then cajooled you out of Pandora's arms and back into his. “Baby, have Panda and I both been bringing you drinks?”

You giggled, hiding your face in his chest. “And Evan brought me a shot,” you said.

“He did?!” Barty pretended to be shocked, glancing over at his best friend, who held up his hands in innocence. “So you're right pissed, then.”

You stared up at the ceiling, like you were deeply contemplating this, then slowly lowered your glassy eyes back to his. “Perhaps,” you said carefully, and he snorted a laugh.

Merlin, you were fucking adorable.

“C’mon, Crouch. Game's not over,” Regulus griped.

Barry glanced down at the cups, finding Regulus had sunk two balls while he was distracted. “Guess it's time I catch up,” he hummed, shifting you to his side and taking the two big gulps of stale beer.

You wrinkled your nose in distaste. “I can go get some fresh ones,” you offered, attempting to take a stumbling half-step away from him.

“Nope.” Barty hauled you back into his side, arm bracketed along your lower back. “You're staying right here with me, little lush.”

With you under his arm, he sank his final shot, officially beating Regulus, then whisked you off to the dancefloor to celebrate his victory.

He was in heaven, booze pumping hot and thick in his blood, your body pressed in against his front, writing with abandon to the rock music blaring from the speakers. You looked supremely fuckable, glossed with sweat and starry-eyed, a wild grin on your pretty lips.

He bent down, nosing into your neck while you rolled your hips against his, too drunk to realize what you were doing to him. Or too drunk to care.

“Babygirl, you're killing me,” he purred against your balmy skin, his grip tightening on your hips to stop your movements. “Better stop unless you want me to bend you over the bar right here, right now.”

“Nuh-uhhh,” you whined, spinning in his arms to face him. “M’just dancin’.”

“Sure, sweet thing. And I'm a monk,” he chuckled, watching you press kisses to the inked valley of his sternum, his shirt most of the way unbuttoned by your tricky fingers. You were such an affectionate drunk, but it wasn't often you indulged enough to get drunk in the first place. He groaned when you glanced up at him, round eyes framed by thick lashes, and his cock gave a merciless kick against his trousers.

You grinned, kissing your way up his neck before pecking his lips. The taste of his own sweat on your lips made his mind go dark, lust shredding through the tenuous leash he had himself on.

“Bat,” you murmured, tugging on his chain to get his attention.

“Baby,” he replied, voice rougher than it was moments before.

You kissed him again, tongue dipping past his lips to brush against his before retreating again, taunting him. “Can I tell you a secret?” you whispered.

He nodded, legs locked to keep himself upright.

You cupped your hand around his ear, leaning in close enough that your breath tickled the hair around his ear. “I love you too.”

It was like a bucket of cold water was doused over his head, his heart seizing. Fuck, how amazing the words sounded on your lips, but you were so drunk. Too drunk to know what you were saying, let alone remember it tomorrow.

He knew you loved him, but he didn't want to hear it like this. Not for the first time. He wanted you to say it and mean it, and not need liquid courage to make you feel safe enough to admit it.

“Honey, fuck, I love you so much, but you don't mean that,” he said, gently folding your hands into his and leading you off the dancefloor.

You resisted, pouting. “I do mean it! I love you!”

“Treasure, please—”

“Don’t ‘treasure’ me. I love you, and I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner,” you argued, lips pulling down into a frustrated frown. Then, softer, just for him—“I love you, Barty.”

He winced, like a lance was shoved through his chest. “Stop it, you're drunk,” he said, fighting to keep his voice gentle while he tugged you somewhere quieter.

People were watching, your friends pushing forward to see what the fuss was about, and panic beat like a drum in his head.

“No! Why won't you let me love you?” You yanked your hands out of his hold. “You love me!”

“I do, but you can't—you don't know what your saying, love—” He couldn't the thought of you saying it now and not being able to tomorrow. That maybe you didn't mean it, that you were just telling him what he wanted to hear. False validation hurt far worse than none at all.

“What's going on?” Pandora interjected, stepping between the two of you.

Anger flared hot under Barty's skin. “Fuck off, Pan,” he bit.

“Hey—” Xeno barked.

“Don't fucking start with me, Xe.” Barty stepped up to his friend, ringed fingers curling into a fist. Fucking Xeno, putting doubts in his head…

Evan jumped between them before it escalated further. “Alright, that's enough. This is between Barty and y/n—”

“He upset her!” Pandora argued, her arms wrapped around your shoulders.

“M’fine!” You shot back, jerking out of her arms and nearly sending yourself to the ground.

“You aren't fine,” Barty growled, shoving Evan and Xeno out of the way and catching you before you toppled completely. “You need to go to bed.”

You deflated at his tone, moisture pooling along your lower lashes, and he felt like that biggest ass on the planet. “Why are you so angry with me?” You whispered, and his heart cracked.

“I'm not—fuck, baby. I could never be angry with you.” He pulled you into his chest, wrestling down the hurt churning in his gut. “Let's just get you to bed, yeah? Together?”

You hesitated, contemplating resisting further, but then you nodded, the last of your restraint dissolving from your muscles.

“Barty—” Pandora warned.

“I've got her,” Barty snapped, tightening a possessive arm around your shoulders. “Can you all just fucking trust me for once?”

They all fell quiet, looking back and forth from him to one another. He didn't give them a chance to respond, pushing through the semicircle they made around you and leading you up the stairs.

Neither of you spoke, the silence of your dorm only broken by his shuffling around and your sniffles. He hated himself for making you cry, wanted to tear his hair out and claw off his skin in repentance, but he just couldn't stand hearing you say that and not knowing if you meant it. It was the worst kind of torture.

He helped you into your pajamas and removed your makeup, then tucked you into bed with some water and a hangover cure ready to go on your nightstand.

You snuggled into your pillows, stuffed kitty folded into your chest, and blinked up him with sorrowful eyes. “Will you stay?” You asked, and his heart tried to punch through the wall of his chest.

He sighed. “’Course, love,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. He rummaged through your things, finding a pair of his sweatpants, and changed into them before crawling into bed beside you and shutting the curtain.

You nosed into his neck, arms bundled against his chest, and he cushioned your head with his bicep, the other draped over your waist.

“Don't let me ruin this,” you mumbled, voice sleep-addled and sad.

He kissed your forehead, guilt ringing hollow against his ribs. “You couldn't, treasure. You're stuck with me,” he tried to joke, but it was mirthless.

You shook your head, lips brushing along his clavicle, then your breathing deepened, muscles going lax, and you passed out in his arms.

He kissed your head again, nuzzling into your hair, and let his eyes wander to the crack in the curtain, where he knew he'd watch the sunrise in a few hours. Usually, he was able to sleep with you, the warmth and weight of your body soothing his mind enough to let him rest. But he knew there were no dreams waiting for him tonight.

So he'd hold you, and try not to think too hard, and watch the room inevitably fill with light.

Reader's POV

You woke up to an empty bed and a pounding headache, morning sunlight blazing through the gap in your curtain.

“Fuck me,” you groaned, sitting up and grabbing the potion from your bedside table, popping the cork and slamming it back. Immediately, the potion began to work, the sharpness behind your eyes dulling and your stomach settling.

Merlin, how much did you drink last night? You barely remembered anything after dancing with Barty—wait, where was Barty?

You were fairly certain he'd come to bed with you, and found evidence of that in the dented pillow on your left, the smell of his cologne lingering on the fabric.

You remembered him being angry about something, angry with you, but you couldn't remember why, the specific moments slithering through your fingers like silverfish.

You pulled aside your curtain, finding Pandora and Xeno tangled in her bed, Pandora braiding ribbons in her boyfriends platinum waves while he slept.

“Hey,” you croaked.

“Morning, sunshine. You fucked up,” Pandora said, waggling a finger at you.

You groaned, slumping back onto your pillows. “What did I do?”

“Told Barty you loved him. Loudly and in front of everyone.”

Your jaw fell open. No, no, surely you didn't do something so careless? “I couldn't have—”

“You did, and he's losing his mind over it. Been “showering” for about two hours,” Xeno grumbled, shifting a bit on Pandora's chest.

You couldn't believe yourself. That wasn't how Barty deserved to hear that, not after days of patiently waiting for you to pluck up the courage. You had to fix this. Had to make sure he knew the truth, and that it wasn't a drunken mishap, but the truth in your heart.

Throwing your covers off, you slipped out of bed, padding out of the room and sneaking over to the boys dorm.

You bumped into a freshly-showered Evan halfway to the boys bathroom.

“Hey, wait.” He caught you by the wrist. “If you're going in there to hurt him, don't,” he warned, glacial eyes narrowing.

“I'm not, Ev,” you promised.

“Because I like you, y/n. You're the same kind of bitch as me. But if you're fucking with my best mates heart, I'd hate to have to hate you.” He brushed past you, his words hanging heavy in the air.

You tried not to take it personally, Evan and Barty were fiercely protective of each other, but it still stung that he thought you'd intentionally hurt Barty.

Of course you wouldn't, you loved him.

You loved him.

Fuck, you were so stupid.

You pushed into the bathroom, steam thick and tepid. Only one shower was running, gray smoke curling around the gossamer plumes of steam, and the bathroom seemed otherwise deserted.

“Colloportus,” you cast, locking the door behind you. You approached the shower, knocking lightly on the wall. “Bat, you in there?”

An arm shot out from the curtain and yanked you in, pj’s and all.

“Barty!” You crashed into his wet, naked chest, the blast of hot water soaking you.

“Didn't expect you up for hours, drunkard,” he teased, petting the wet hair from your face, but his smile faltered when he noted the absence of yours.

You sputtered a little, trying to regain your resolve despite the shock. “I-I’m really sorry, Barty,” you said, reaching up to cup his face, stroking away the beads of water running down with your thumb. From the red around his eyes, deep purple stains underneath them, it was clear he hadn't slept at all.

“Sorry for what?” He asked, brows drawing together. He was putting on a brave face, but you could tell that you'd hurt him, and it made your heart splinter.

“For telling you the way I did instead of the way I should have.” You brought his hands to the hem of you soaked-through shirt, guiding them to lift it up and over you head, wanting to be as close to him as you could in this moment—no barriers.

“Baby, you don't have to—”

You shimmied your shorts down, the fabric landing with a wet plop on the tile floor. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his, searing heat blooming everywhere your skin touched. “I want to,” you murmured, drawing him down for a feather-light kiss. “I need to.”

He loosed a shaky exhale, eyes flitting nervously over your face while his hands came to a tentative rest on your hips.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “Bartemius Crouch Jr., I love you. I love you more than anything. And I’m sorry—”

Barty turned, crushing you against the wall and stealing the last of your apology with a fervid kiss. “I love you more,” he growled, a visceral purr of approval against your ear. “Not so hard, hm?”

You nodded, a pitiful whine plucked from your throat when his fingers prodded between your legs, wasting no time spreading you open and smearing your slick over his palm.

“My brave girl, I'm so proud of you,” he cooed, sinking knuckle deep into your clenching heat, making you keen. “So good f’me, aren't you?”

“I was just so scared,” you whimpered, hips rocking into his hand as he parted your gummy walls, scissoring you open with a second finger.

“I know, honey. I know you better than anyone,” he murmured, a possessive edge sharpening his voice. “I knew you loved me, just like I knew you wanted me months ago. Before even you did, silly little thing.”

“Yes, Barty—fuck,” you moaned.

He curled his fingers, pressing against the spot that made your knees give out, white blooming behind your eyes. He silenced your cries with his mouth, smothering you while he fucked you with his fingers, the lewd squelch of your pussy barely muffled by the thundering water.

“Say it again,” he gruffed, his free hand coming up to wrap around your throat, holding you up by the febrile column.

“I love you,” you gasped, loosing air as his hand tightened, the heat in your belly building higher and higher, near to combusting.

“Again.”

“I luh—” you wheezed, unable to draw enough air to finish the phrase.

“Heart’s beating so hard, treasure. All for me?”

You nodded, head going fuzzy from lack of oxygen and the looming orgasm, putty in his merciless hands.

His eyes were black, obfuscated with lust and providence, a ferality barely tethered.

You were about to break, dragged roughshod to release, when suddenly his hand retreated, leaving you empty. Gutted.

But then he was pushing inside you, splitting you down the center with his thickness, so full you swore you could taste him in your throat. His grip loosened on your neck, allowing you a swig of air as he groaned, rutting savagely into your softness.

“So fucking tight, little cunt’s like a vice,” he grated, lifting your legs for a deeper angle, leaving you suspended and helpless to receive whatever he gave you. “Gonna come for me, baby? Let me fill you to the fucking brim with my love?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babbled, nails dragging down his shoulders as you desperately tried to hold on while the world fell away.

“Go on, tres. Give it to me. Don't hold back.” He huffed into your neck, his thrusts getting rougher, sloppier as he swelled inside of you.

Your orgasm blasted through you, ripping you apart at the seams, and you sank your teeth into his shoulder, muffling yourself as he fucked you through it.

“Fuck, that's it—fucking take it—” his own release slammed into him, and he bottomed out with a punishing snap. You could feel his cock surging against your ruined pussy, filling you completely, body and soul.

His grip on your relaxed as the strength bled out of him, his lips tracing a path up your throat, finding your lips in a lissome, sodden kiss.

“I love you,” you whispered, tears pooling behind your eyes as the onslaught of feeling dissipated.

“I love you,” he replied, peppering kisses all over your face in the way that never failed to make you smile. He set you gently on your feet, an arm around your waist in case you stumbled. “Are you okay, though? Really?”

You nodded, pecking his cheek as you stepped back under the deliciously warm stream of water. “I'm in love, what could be wrong?”

He grinned, blinding as the sun, and scooped you back up in a toothy, buoyant kiss. “Absolutely nothing, my love. Absolutely nothing at all.”

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[crescenthistory]

saw ur post about all the angsty requests and i simply cannot let that happen so may i present my request of the lovely barty:

slytherin is throwing a party and barty is already there when reader gets there late but they can’t find each other bc it’s so crowded. but junior being, well him, he’s loud and brash and so some that’s a bad thing but to reader it’s so perfect.

i can imagine him standing on a table, maybe drunk, singing at the top of his lungs for his lovely treasure (reader) and when r does find him, they give him a light hearted scolding but thank him for always finding them in every crowd.

i love barty so much and when i imagine him in love, he’s IN LOVE and he’s so loud about it and it’s just perfect

- 🐈‍⬛

if nobody else has my back, i know komi has my back 🙏👯‍♀️ just a silly little drabble with our best boy

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, alcohol (firewhiskey), reference to smoking, slytherin party, pda, barty pov (so max chaotic energy), romanian!barty, kissing<3, slytherin skittles shenanigans all around

"You know, Junior," Dorcas drawled from where she was leaning against Marlene as one might lean on a wall. "You're supposed to at least pretend to enjoy spending time with your friends."

"Oh, come off it, Cassie," Barty replied while still not looking at her. His face was turned towards the ever-growing crowd in the Slytherin common room, eyes scanning. "You know I'd die for ya."

She mumbled something into her drink that Barty didn't quite catch, but Marlene apparently found hilarious.

"What's got him in a tizzy?" Regulus asked absentmindedly. Barty hadn't even noticed him reappear, but the sounds of liquids swishing revealed it was likely to get a drink and not to spend time with his lovely friends. Dorcas should really be scolding him.

"Y/N's not here yet." Marlene supplied it so matter-of-factly you might not have realised she is a recent addition to the group via Dorcas. Barty did not much care for her yet – but she wasn't wrong.

The two of you always attended parties together. Always had, since the first time Barty all but dragged you along and you found that you actually quite enjoyed them, as long as he was by your side. It had inflated Barty’s ego beyond what it probably needed to – according to Regulus, at least – but more importantly, it was one of the things that first made him feel secure in your relationship. Wanted, needed.

Barty was also at the point where he did not enjoy anything particularly much if you were not there. He could do shots with Evan and rile Dorcas up into picking on Regulus with him, but it didn’t give him that same buzz that ran over his exposed skin. Didn’t make his dead heart beat.

Tonight, though, for the traditional half-term rager thrown sloppily together in Slytherin, you were running late. By some terrible coincidence, you had your prefect rounds the same day, and could not get ready with Barty like you usually did.

He was left standing by the drinks table so that you could easily spot him whenever you returned – but as more and more people streamed in, your face was not among them. And the more crowded the room got, the rowdier it became, and Barty no longer had a clear sight of the entry. 

You could be here and he might not know. That just wouldn’t do.

“Hate to agree with the lion, but she’s right,” he announced then, clapping his hands together as he turned to his audience. Otherwise known as his friends and their mostly uninterested gazes. “My darling sweet angel, light of my life and yours is not here yet, and we need to do something about it.”

Regulus and Dorcas shared a look through bitten-back smiles. “And why is she not here?” Regulus asked, perhaps to avoid the last part of Barty's sentence.

“She has the audacity to follow rules and regulations,” Barty said with a straight face.

Regulus looked back to Dorcas for a translation. “Prefect rounds.” He rolled his eyes at that, a fellow abider of rules and regulations apparently. 

“Being the attentive individual she is, she likely overextended her help and ran late. And now there’s too many people here for me to spot her.” Barty spoke slowly, like he was spelling it out for children. Regulus’ huffing was becoming too frequent and petulant for his current taste. “So. Desperate times?”

He trailed off the end of his sentence, looking to Dorcas to complete it. Instead she asked, “What desperate measures are you aiming at here, B?”

A Cheshire cat grin split Barty’s face in half. “So glad you asked, my dear Dorc.”

Marlene winced and tightened her hold on Dorcas who had already opened her mouth, no doubt to tell him where to shove that nickname, but Barty was already backing away from the trio with his arms spread out wide.

He bodily pushed at a few fifth years standing around a table to make room for him to jump onto it, with no regard for the card game he was disrupting. The table was wobbly, but it carried Barty’s weight with no problem. From this new height, he could see most of the room clearly, eagle-like gaze already working overtime to see if there was a you to locate there yet.

Regulus walked up to stand in front of him on the ground. Barty grinned down at him questioning.

“Joining me, Reggie boy?”

“You wish.” Regulus moved his grip on a flask of firewhiskey to underneath it, so he could most effectively lift it up towards Barty without spilling any. “If you’re on tables already, you ought to have more in your system.”

“What a terrible influence you are, Black. I’m writing straight home to Walburga.” Immediately after his quip, Barty brought the flask to his lips, chugging, while Regulus rolled his eyes in a way that simply must be painful. 

Cheers from around Barty erupted at his very visible drinking, some already pissed students yelling chug, chug, chug. What can he say, Barty’s never one to back down from a challenge.

With an audible pop, he released the bottle from his lips and howled obnoxiously. He could hear Marlene yell a “yeah!” from behind him.

Maybe she wasn’t that bad.

Then, Barty at the top of his burning lungs yelled. “Y/N?! Dragă?!”

No answer. Or, well, no answer from you. Some stupid sods tried to respond, as if he’d ever call them darling.

“Oi! What are you on about?” Some bloke yelled at him from the opposite wall.

“Looking for my bird, you prick!” 

This earned him several wolf-whistles and hollers, which he promptly neglected as he turned around on the table, to no avail. He did not find you – but he had not exhausted the room in his search either. He still could not see every corner.

Using his thumb as a makeshift cap for the bottle, Barty cast a spell to move a table in the middle of the room closer to him while mid-leap towards it. His feet just barely hit the end of it, screech-laughing throughout his entire flight. 

This earned him even more hoots and hollers. Barty would be feeling quite chuffed if it wasn’t for your remaining status as missing. He took a few more swings of the bottle while his hungry eyes swept over all the heads. 

Then, the room must have lit up, because at last he saw you. Standing near the fireplace, squished between several other partiers, trying to gain your own bearings and locate your people.

“Dragă!”

Your head snapped up at Barty’s nickname for you, and the sweetest, most kissable smile spread across your lips. Oh, how Barty needed you to get your arse over here this instant.

He jumped off the table while punching the air in success, manhandling his way through the crowd towards where he now knew you to be. Smartly, you remained put, but your arms were opened for him by the time he got to you.

Swooping in, he abandoned the flask in favour of circling his arms around your waist and spinning you around, relishing in the giggles that escaped you.

“Buburuză, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He spoke into your neck, breathing you in, before pulling away enough to see your face. His smile must be blinding.

“The other prefect didn’t show, so I had double the amount of work,” you said simply, as if that was not an egregious crime against the loveliest prefect there was.

He opened his mouth to say as much, but you cut him off with a kiss, lips curled against his. Barty couldn’t help but sigh happily into you.

“Which can be dealt with later,” you said pointedly once you felt you had mollified him enough with your kisses. “For now, it seems I have to catch up with you. Starting without me?” Whether you had seen the bottle or smelled it on his breath he did not know, he just wanted you to keep talking.

The teasing tone in your voice did something funny to his stomach. “Entirely Reggie’s fault – extensive peer pressure, I tell you. I have Dorcas as my witness.” He nodded solemnly, as if he was presenting his case for a judge.

You shook your head at him and breathed a laughter against his lips as you kissed him again. He surely tasted of firewhiskey and the smoke he had earlier, but you didn’t seem to mind – he loved you all the more for it.

“Come now, there is something we need to do,” he said the second you pulled apart. One of his hands found yours while his other settled around your waist, hooking his thumb in your waistband. 

You furrowed your brows in confused entertainment, but let him lead you through the crowd towards the table in the middle that he abandoned earlier. 

“Barty, what–” you tried to ask, but he tightened his grip around your waist and used it to lift you, abusing a poor chair as a stepping stone to get the two of you on top of the table once more. 

Before you could question him, he spun you around like a trophy and shouted above the music, “I FOUND HER!”, victory evident in his tone.

This time, the wolf-whistles and hollers were even louder, some students stomping their feet to create a drumming sound. You flushed under the attention, melting impossibly further into Barty’s side, but laughter spilled over your lips, albeit nervously. When he looked down, he found you beaming at him. 

He knew himself to look twice as lovestruck as you, but he was happy to report that that was saying something.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” came the chants from the crowd then.

When a brief once-over of you showed no discomfort despite your light embarrassment – you were growing rapidly immune to that through your relationship – he figured, who was he to argue with a drunken room?

He swept you into a deep and passionate kiss, bending you slightly backward with his wide hands splayed across your back. 

“Now that I’m reunited with my love, what do you say we get the party properly started, yeah?”

[blackboxtheater]

Are you still taking requests?

I guess my prompt would be Crossover. Make these two from different places in any way you choose!

Also, I love your writing!

Fam, I will be taking requests for as long as there is a shred of hope that we can make mumpearl win.

I will be taking requests through our next round as we have to do the square vs. rectangle math of Mumpearl vs. Poly Boatem as the better ship.

And, god willing, I will be taking prompts until the very last moments of the fight as Mumscarian beats us to a bloody pulp in the quarter finals of the bracket.

I am here.

I am fighting.

And I will go down screaming with my laptop clutched in my dying hands.

So with that, make sure to go vote for Mumpearl in the Mumbo Jumbo ship bracket!! 1 day left in round 1 and we still have a good lead!!!

BUT ON A MORE POSITIVE NOTE….THANKS!!

There is SO many possibilities with "crossover" that I feel like I'm not using it to its potential, but I have been watching the Empires x Hermitcraft crossover recently, so that’s fresh in my mind. Specifically Santa Perla. (House of String team, y'all get 1 guess as to who is going to make an appearance in upcoming chapters and I'll give you a hint that his name rhymes with LegendaryBratwurst)

So I give you Life Goddess Pearl x Mumbo, set in a season 9 of Hermitcraft without Pearl. But because its a crossover, some empires and skyblock stuff will come up, which you don't really need to understand to get everything said here, who doesn’t need an excuse to go rewatch the potato wars?

👨🏻 🥔 🐷

Mumbo's axe finally chips through the next block in his strip mine, but when the shards crumbles at his feet his axe doesn't connect with the next block. Instead it swings out into open air and the lack of any resistance against the axe is the first thing he registers as his body stumbles forward with momentum.

The next thing he notices is the light. The bright, natural daylight spilling through the gap in the stone is what sends him reaching for his communicator. Maybe he tunneled up somehow and that why he can't find any diamonds recently?  Or maybe he's higher than he thought and this is normal?

The blank space where his y level is supposed to be is not a good sign.

It’s a worse sign when he looks up from his communicator to see not just one block gone, but nearly a dozen blocks have vanished in front of him, leaving effectively a doorway into a brightly lit cave.

It's a beautiful cave though.

There are vivid green vines dangling through the air with gorgeous flowers of every color he can think of blossoming along the snaking tendrils. Poking his head through the doorway, the cave turns out to be shaped more like a cylinder that he's accidentally dug into the side of rather than a normal cave, with smooth walls curving around to either side until they reach the other side. At the bottom is a crystal clear pool, teeming with darting streaks of colorful movement. If he didn't know better, he'd think there were red and yellow glow squid in there along with the teal ones, but he must be imagining that. It must just be axolotls or something else, right? The strange feeling about the creatures in the pool worsens as he looks up, unable to see a light source or roof for these vines to dangle from. It appears to go up forever.

The parts of him still searching for a logical explanation tries to remember if he had ever seen a lush cave before.

Those were new, right? Maybe this is just one of them.

Surely he'd just never been in one and this was something normal to encounter deep underground. And he can almost convince himself of that possibility. But it doesn't explain the stairs carved into the wall and spiraling down to the pool. Stairs that start at exactly the spot he just tunneled through the wall.

Which feels like a little too much of a coincidence to have appeared alongside the magic door.

It's strange enough that Mumbo's self-preservation instincts have him turning around to head back out the tunnel, only to find it filled in behind him. Where he knows he just spent hours tunneling through rock is not a smooth sheet of stone.

He's trying to come up with any plausible explanation when a voice echoes through the cavern.

"Mumbo! Come in!"

Mumbo turns, staring down at the woman he swore wasn't there a minute ago dangling her legs into the water at the bottom of the cave. She's waving at him, motioning for him to come down.

Rationally, he should try to dig his way out and escape.

But despite all the strangeness of this place, it doesn’t feel threatening.

It's strange in a way he wants to understand, not strange in a way that makes him afraid.

So he steps out onto the stairs, descending as they circle along the wall of the cave.

The closer he gets to the bottom, the more confident he is that he doesn't know the woman sitting beside the pool. Hermitcraft is a small server. He would know if this was one of his friends even if they were playing a joke on him.

She looks different than his friends. 

She looks too much, for lack of a better word, like the blocks he's so used to seeing around him. Her skin looks like it’s the same shade of oak as the first block punched down at the start of a season. Her hair reminds him so much of fresh dirt its eerie. Her shorts are clearly jeans but somehow look exactly like the water in a metal bucket just before he dumps it out for a bucket clutch.

There is something that just feels different about her.

He knows she's not one of the Hermits. But he also knows she isn’t one of the Hermits.

Just like he knows, no matter what he tells himself, that this isn't a lush cave.

The moment his feet step off the stone stairs and touch down on a grassy floor, she turns and looks up at him.

Two different colored eyes stare back at him. One is the deep, shimmering green of a perfectly cut trading emerald. The other is a prefect match for the crystalline blue of his diamond pickaxe.

She looks beautiful. She feels beautiful.

"Why potatoes?" she asks, before he can articulate any form of greeting.

"What?" is the only response his two brain cells can come up with.

"Potatoes. What is it about that vegetables that draws your brilliant minds to them?"

She asks like this is a totally normal question in a totally normal situation, and he's the crazy one for being confused.

"Wait, who are you? Where are we?" Mumbo asks, looking around again to see what he must have missed that would tell him what is going on. Except the more he looks, the more things don't look quite right.

"No, really. What is it about potatoes?" the woman doubles down, unphased by the questions or Mumbo's visible confusion.

"You can make carrots golden, so I thoughts you guys would like those best. And wheat, well I guess you did innovate plenty with wheat already. The cakes are truly magnificent. I loved when you made those. But it's not carrots or beetroots or even my apples you like. No. You're not drawn to any of those. It's something about the potatoes that you all go to. That inspire you. Why potatoes? Can you explain that?"

She's looking at him like this is such a serious, important question and literally all Mumbo can do for a moment is stare.

Then he laughs.

Uncontrollably, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes as he nearly doubles over laughing.

"Am I dead? Is this where we go when we finally glitch out? Is this what happens when my code fails? It sends me here?" Mumbo spouts, still laughing because what else could possibly be going on.

A beautiful woman is asking him about potatoes in a bizarre otherworldly cave. He must have finally died the last time.

"Do you not like this? We can go somewhere else. What about-"

Mumbo blinks and the world around them completely changes. The towering walls that cocooned them inside the cave before give way to vast nothingness in every direction.

The flowers, the water, the stone. It's all gone.

They are floating in space.

It's just him, the mystery woman, a single oak tree, and a few chunks of dirt floating in space.

"Okay. Yup. I'm dead. My code corrupted and it reset me here. Okay. I guess I always wondered but, okay," Mumbo mutters to himself, taking in the vast expanse of blue as far as he can see in every direction.

"Very funny Mumbo, but my sister isn't here" the woman says with a chuckle like it's supposed to mean something or make him feel better.

"So if I'm not dead where are we?"

If she will treat this like its serious he can play along. His friends do enough crazy bits that he can play along well enough for now.

"Right now? The first seed. But we can go anywhere you want if-"

"No!" Mumbo shouts, finally seeming to crack through the woman's even demeanor as she jumps just the slightest at his outburst.

"This is fine. This is lovely, this……spot. I don't want to move. I want to know who you are," he finishes.

She looks confused for a moment, and then her eyes widen with shock and for the first time, Mumbo feels a little better that he's not the only one confused.

"You don't know who I am. I'm too early," she says, looking him up and down as if reevaluating him head to toe.

"Sorry," she shakes her head with a sigh before looking back at Mumbo. "I thought you met my prophet already. I'm too early. Wait have you been potato boy yet? Have you worshiped me yet? I thought I was late enough for that. Sorry. If that hasn't happened yet I'll come back after. Sometimes I don't get the time right. My time isn't like your time so sometimes I get it wrong."

"I was a potato super hero last season?" Mumbo offers, half way between an answer and a whole other question. He isn't even sure what he's asking it that is a question.

"Oh thank god," the woman sighs, relief visible across the lines of her face. "Then you can answer my question about potatoes."

"First can you please tell me who you are? Where we are? Anything? Please?"

The woman looks at him for a moment, hesitating. He almost opens his mouth to plead again for literally any answers or guidance before she starts again.

"I guess you called me Peace, Love, and Plants. That's not really a name, but perhaps what you best know me as."

"You are the concept of Peace, Love, and Plants?"

Mumbo feels like a broken record, repeating the same questions only to make progress by mimicking her words back to her.

"I'm Life. You didn't worship me that way, you called it Peace, Love, and Plants, but I heard you," she answers. In the same way that Mumbo was certain that the woman was not a Hermit, he is certain that what she said was true. It makes no sense and can't possibly be true.

But it is.

He knows that as clearly as he knows anything.

"I thought I came late enough so you would have met my prophet. He prefers to call me Pearl. Santa Pearla. You can call me that too, if you prefer."

"Pearl, like Ender Pearls?"

"No! Those are from my sister. You only get those from killing things," she scrunches up her nose in a ridiculous expression of disgust that looks too human to be from a goddess.

"Your sister is death?"

"Yes. And my pearls are much better than hers. She has to murder my beautiful endermen for her pearls. They are just shy! They just want to move things around and make the world better. They helped show me how much giving just a little bit of my creativity and free will to my babies could make such a change. They moved the little blocks around and built little things. It was lovely. And now look at you all! Making machines and art with the world!"

As she talks, Pearl's whole face lights up and she looks so much like his friends it can’t be a coincidence. She looks like Tango and Zed laughing at their creations. She looks like Scar's sentences tripping over themselves as he talks about an exciting new project. She looks like Cleo's delighted clapping at another armor stand tableau and Doc smirking with pride showing off a new redstone circuit.

Or maybe, if she is a goddess as the source of all life and creation, his friends all look like her.

"But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I needed to ask about the potatoes!" she says, eagerly looking back at him.

"I love when you- You players, I mean. Also you. Mumbo you. But you players, come up with fascinating new innovations and work arounds. You do such amazing things with the resources I’ve made. It’s fascinating. And now two of you my most fascinating creatures, have been obsessed with potatoes. So tell me Mumbo, why? What is it about potatoes?"

He doesn’t have a good answer for her, but he does have the whole story of the Peace, Love and Plants journey that made him Potato Boy, which she seems interested enough in hearing instead. She scolds him for using the end crystals to cause destruction, but it sounds perfunctory among the eager questions and praise for the ingenious ways he accomplished everything with so little death. He almost forgets that the woman before him is an immortal god until she mentions watching his ridiculous endeavors for years. Then the nervous flutter in his stomach about a beautiful woman being enthralled by his stories busts into a whole flock of birds thrashing against his ribs because a literal god who can see every universe in every reality across all of time is looking at him like he is the most worthy of her attention among all of creation. Her creation.

His nerves calm slightly when she offers the other potato story as an explanation of why she tracked him down. She tells him about a world full of first seeds like this little island and of a piglin and a squid who wanted to farm the most potatoes in the universe. He doesn't know if he should be jealous that someone else captured her attention the same way, or grateful the goddess isn’t only focused on him and all his mishaps. Well, he shouldn’t be jealous at all of an omnipresent, otherworldly goddess paying attention to other players. But that doesn't stop the feeling from flicking just the slightest bit in the back of his mind.  

When they finish talking, she drops him back in the same mineshaft he was digging earlier that day. And just like when he first saw her, he blinks and she vanishes, leaving him with no proof the any of it happened other than a pair of perfectly imperfect pearl cufflinks that catch the light just right each time he creates something new.

✌️ ❤️ 🥔

Months later, when a portal rips open the world under Grian's base, Mumbo wonders if he'll see Pearl again in the space between worlds. But then Sausage asks if they want to see La Catedral Santa Perla and Mumbo realizes this is what she meant by not getting time right.

He leaves an offering of an emerald, a diamond, and an oak sapling at the alter of Saint Pearl and Sausage looks at him with an understanding that goes unnoticed by the rest of his friends as they coo over the beautiful architecture and gorgeous landscaping.

Mumbo also suspects its why Sausage says yes when Mumbo returns the next day asking to build a potato farm on the grounds of the cathedral.And why he at least doesn’t immediately shoo Mumbo away when he asks about setting up some space for enderman, piglins, and squids somewhere nearby too.

[antirepurp]

post-06 silver who's permanently fucked up and beyond saving. he lacks any memories beyond a moment of existential terror he had one morning after waking up in a world he didn't belong to, and doesn't remember the timeline he's from that's now gone. someone who slowly loses more and more of their inhibitions the more he starts to vaguely understand the workings of time, but never truly grasping how everything works. his future remains safe and unchanged and the skies are blue, but sometimes when he travels to the past he describes apocalyptic conditions he's convinced are real. everyone believes him, because they could not even dream of arguing against him when he's the one who's time traveling. maybe he catches on to it himself eventually, that something's very wrong with him, but there's nothing he can really do about it. no one has the ability to correct you when you're wrong, to ground you in reality, when they can't tell your lies from the truth. even you don't know where you are really from, where the home you long for supposedly is. is this real, are you even real anymore? did you travel to the past or fall asleep? when was the last time you were sure you were awake, anyway?

[bridgyrose]

Someone in Team RWBY has a kid. Uncle Sun and Aunt Emerald compete over who's the better thief in the family.

Emerald nudged Sun as she saw Blake and Yang with their kid, a smile crossing her lips. “I bet I’m a better thief than you.” 

“First off, I’m not a thief,” Sun said as he finished the banana he’d… liberated… from a stall. “And second, if I were a thief, which I’m definitely not, I’d be better than you.” 

“And what are you willing to bet on that claim?” 

“My partnership with Neptune.” 

“And what makes you think I want him?” 

“It’d be easier to mess with him.”

Emerald rolled her eyes and nearly scoffed at the idea. “Why dont we bet something a bit more… agreeable. If I win, then you have to go a full day without goofing off.” 

“If we’re going down that route, then when I win, you have to go a full day without trying to steal something.” Sun paused for a moment. “What exactly are we going to steal?” 

“Well, you know… steal candy from Yang’s kid,” Emerald said quietly, her eyes still tracking Yang and her family. “As cliche as it sounds.” 

Sun shook his head. “If Blake or Yang catch us, we’re as good as dead.” 

“And a good thief never gets caught.” Emerald gave a smile and dropped from her perch, practiced footsteps almost moving without a sound as she followed Yang and Blake. Her eyes stayed on the bag of candy that was on their kid’s hip, an easy target for her. It’d be as easy as taking a wallet from Ruby or lifting a pen from someone. 

And yet, it almost seemed like an impossible task. Under normal circumstances she could take almost anything she’d wanted by tricking people into thinking she was someone else. But Bake and Yang had learned how to see through her illusions. The slight twitches she’d make when she was ready to grab her target, the way her voice almost seemed to fluctuate, the mannerisms she took so much care into trying to hide… none of it out of their eyes. 

“Emerald?” Yang more spoke than asked. “What are you doing?” 

“I-I uh… I was just… trying to… surprise you!” Emerald lied as he put on a smile. “You and Blake are always so busy, and I figured that since Ruby still hasnt been found, that you both could use a friendly face.” 

“We dont need-” 

“I think it’d be fine if she accompanies us,” Blake said with a smile, taking Yang’s hand to calm her. “I think its been long enough that we can bury the hatchet.” 

Yang practically let out a huff. “I… guess we can. This is our daughter, Yin. Yin, this is Emerald.” 

Emerald smiled softly and bent down as Yin hid behind Yang. “I’m your aunty Emerald. Its a pleasure to meet you.” 

“‘Aunty’ is pushing-” Yang stopped as she felt Blake punch her shoulder and frown at her. “She’s more of a… family friend.” 

Yin nodded and slowly came out from behind Yang, shy as she looked over Emerald. “It’s… its nice to meet you.” 

Blake smiled at Emerald. “You can join us for dinner later. There’s a cafe that Yang’s taking us to and it’d be nice to catch up with you.” 

Yang frowned and started to pull Blake away. “I’m sure Emerald is too busy to join us-” 

“I’d love to,” Emerald interrupted as she stood up. “I-I mean if its not really that much of a problem.” 

“It never would be,” Blake reassured Emerald. “I’ll send you the time and address in a bit. We are running a bit late to get Yin’s ears pierced. She’s been begging for us to let her.” 

“Then I’ll wait for your text,” Emerald said as Yang and Blake walked off. Her eyes went back to Yin’s hip and she paused when she didnt see the bag of candy there anymore. 

“Looking for this?” Sun asked as he held the bag over Emerald’s shoulder with his tail. “Looks like I win.” 

“When did you- nevermind.” Emerald sighed and leaned against a wall of a shop. “But yes, it looks like you do. Now give that back before I get in trouble.” 

“Or you could give it back to them. Maybe it’ll win “Aunty Emerald” some bonus points.” 

Before Emerald could argue, she lunged for the bag of candy as Sun dropped it, coughing as she almost inhaled some sand. When she looked up, Sun was gone just as quickly as he’d come. She let out a sigh, put the bag in her pocket, and started to walk after Yang and Blake. If she was going to return it, then she might as well do it right and make it look like it was dropped.

[novankenn]

She’s Going to Snap… (100 Words)

Cinder: It won’t be long now.

Emerald: Mam?

Cinder: Nikos. She’s crumbling under the pressure. 

Emerald: Um, you do know why she’s upset, right?

Cinder: Obviously it’s because she knows…

Emerald: Yeah, Not even close.

Cinder: Huh?

Emerald: She’s after her team leader, and he’s not responding to her advances. 

Cinder: What that buffoon Arc?

Emerald: Shush! She’ll hear you!

A pair of hands touch Cinder’s shoulders. She looks up and sees Pyrrha coldly smiling.

Pyrrha: Hello. Did I hear you… correctly?

Cinder: (swallows nervously)

Emerald: Hi, Pyrrha.

Pyrrha: Emerald, do you have some place to BE?

Emerald: Just leaving.