#BRO OKAY BUT THE IMPLICATIONS OF IT ALL

[pencilofawesomeness]

The consequence of coming up with a full backstory for Sukuna for With the Storm is that I think about it too often. Little things remind me of it and I am compelled to talk about it; alas, it'll be, like, 20 chapters until fully get into it lmao.

Inspired by this amazing graphic made by @dappermouth which is very Sukuna-core to me and I could not stop thinking about it until I drew this.

[misskamelie]

Head in my hands, I'm doomed, this can't be going on for this long good grief. What the hell does my subconscious want to tell me. Hate the pms hormonal storm

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

CASUAL pt.2— lando norris (angst)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: it took lando too long to realise it wasn't just 'casual'. warnings: a LOT of angst, toxic relationship, sexual implication, not proofread a/n: casual part 2 was not really a part of the plan but the audience had demands 🦧also i think this was too long lmao. AND IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG DELAY OMG

part 1 - casual

miami grand prix: the biggest pr nightmare for every driver—especially lando norris.

the media had been all over him that weekend, going to the lengths of literally calling him 'the hottest catch on the single market'. hollywood stars and instagram models were so desperate to marry him and have his kids that they didn't catch on the fact that he was a 23-year-old racing driver who couldn't give a fuck about them.

because he was stuck on you.

for weeks, he'd waited—hoping you’d reach out, or at the very least, watch his instagram stories. he posted shirtless photos, sun-kissed photos—hell, he even threw out a thirst trap just for you. But you didn’t take the bait. you didn't take the fucking bait.

you hadn't texted him or spoken to him since the moment you walked out of that hotel room weeks ago, so he didn't try to reach out either. "would've been a blow to my ego," he'd told sainz.

but now, he didn't give a shit about his ego. he was tired of waiting.

his eyes darted across the packed club, friends and guests scattered all around. he couldn't wait to get out of there.

he hadn't been drinking. didn't really feel like it. truth be told, he hadn’t been feeling much of anything at all.

pool parties, clubs, yachts, champagne and girls.

he was tired of the glitz and glam of his life, and you were the only escape from it.

but you were gone.

his mind wandered to that morning, when you had kissed him and the two of you had ordered room service. when he had held you for the last time.

he hated how the only thing on his mind was you. how it was the only thing on his mind all through the celebrations, as hookers danced around him and people tried to pour drinks into his mouth.

for fuck's sake, he had won a grand prix for the first time in his life, and yet he was unhappy.

how did he get here?

he looked up, eyes falling on a group of men in the VIP section, the lights illuminating their faces.

everyone could tell something was off with lando. he didn't want to do any of this.

all he wanted was you. you, you, you.

the girl who had left without an explanation.

why had you left, anyway? no calls, no texts. your friends avoided him, and you avoided his friends. it was like the two of you were nothing.

lando norris was many things, but he was not a fool. he could recognise when something was wrong, or when a situation had escalated beyond his control.

he knew that there was a reason why you left, but the reason never clicked in that thick brain of his. what had he done wrong? where had he gone wrong?

"i'm not feeling too well, mate." he muttered, handing the beer bottle back to the guy standing next to him.

okay, maybe not admitting his feelings for you had fucked things up. but, what could you expect? he didn't have the time to give you what you deserved.

not right now, at least.

"what are you waiting for, then?" the other man asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"what?"

"just call her, bro. i know it's about a girl because there's no way any sane man would say no to expensive beers and a million hot hookers."

did lando even know this man? probably not.

"i can't call her. she doesn't want to talk to me. trust me, i've tried."

"have you?"

he didn't know how to deal with rejection. not like this, not with you. you weren't supposed to leave.

"judging by your sulkiness, i doubt you're going to find a girl like her again. and you'll never have her if you're here."

lando didn't have a heart of stone, as much as his social media persona might suggest. he didn't care for any of this. the women, the money, the fame.

he wanted to hold you again. kiss you, tell you he loves you. he wanted to hold your hand. he wanted to be near you, and only you.

so, when his feet hit the floor and he found himself walking towards the exit, he wasn't surprised.

yeah, it was foolish of him to leave a party full of women who were celebrating him (literally) for a girl who had ghosted him, but the need was stronger than his pride.

out of the yacht, he was dialling the only number he'd ever memorised. the phone rang, and then it rang again.

would she be wearing his clothes, or would she have gotten rid of everything related to him?

maybe she'd found another man, finally realising that lando was a bad investment.

as the phone rang, you were hidden in your apartment with blankets wrapped around you and a youtube video playing in the background.

it had been months since you'd heard the word 'casual' leave his mouth. months since you had fled london and monaco to move to miami.

at first, his words had echoed in your mind constantly, and you'd cried yourself to sleep a few times more than you'd like to admit.

but just like every heartbroken poet in history, the hurt faded and the pain slowly morphed into hatred. and anger.

you wanted to slam your head against a wall. scratch that, you wanted to slam his head against a wall.

it was so stupid, and you hated yourself for believing he'd been genuine.

it was just sex. that's all it ever was. it truly was just casual.

the phone was still ringing. your finger hesitated over the answer button. you weren't going to answer it.

it wasn't worth it. you didn't want to hear his voice. didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that his words had hurt you. you didn't want to know if he was sleeping around, if his girlfriends were prettier than you.

so the line went dead.

lando stood by the harbour, watching as yachts and ships sailed past him. the air was humid and his t-shirt clung to his body, the heat almost unbearable. the sound of waves, the distant laughter and music, and the sound of his ragged breaths.

he ran his fingers through his hair, looking around. where was his car?

he had to find his way back to his hotel. he was a mess, and his clothes were sticking to his skin. he needed to fix his appearance, buy a bouquet a flowers.

he checked the time on his watch, and cursed as he saw the numbers. it was almost 3 am. he wouldn't find flowers anywhere at 3 am.

"fuck it." he said, running over to his car. the drive was quiet, save for the low hum of music and his occasional swearing when someone drove a little bit slower than he'd like.

lando norris had the world on his fingertips. he could have any girl he wanted. anyone, really. but he only wanted you. he was a hopeless romantic, and you were his muse.

when he pulled up outside the apartment, his nerves were going haywire. he ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before getting out of the car.

he knocked twice on the door and when it opened, his eyes lit up.

you stared back at him, sleepiness in your eyes and confusion etched on your face.

and god, did you look gorgeous.

he loved you, he realised. he had to cross his hands behind his back to stop them from reaching out and holding you close.

"lando?" you breathed out.

he had grown a slight stubble since you last saw him. his hair were still the same, except a little bit longer. his blue eyes were wide as he looked at you.

"hey," his voice was shaky.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

he wanted to say so many things. ask you why you left, where it went wrong, why you moved to miami. he wanted to declare his love for you, press his lips to yours, hold you by the waist. he wanted to hear you say that you loved him too.

he was so in love with you, and you had no idea.

"lando? why are you here?" you asked again.

he was at a loss of words. what could he say? he couldn't exactly just stand there and say nothing.

"because," his voice cracked, "i miss you."

your throat went dry. he could not just say that.

it had been weeks. weeks of him not contacting you, weeks of you not speaking to him. the phone calls had stopped, the text messages had stopped, the late night chats had stopped. everything was just gone.

and now, he missed you?

tears welled up in your eyes, a lump forming in your throat. you shook your head, pushing back the tears, "go away."

"what? no, wait. wait. don't do this." he pleaded, his voice fragile and desperate, like a child trying to avoid bedtime.

"lando-"

he interrupted you, voice louder than before. "can we please talk about this?"

"what is there to talk about?" you were raising your voice. you hated him. how could he act like this after all that happened?

"everything. just—please, can i come in?" he sounded so pathetic. he felt so pathetic. his hands were slightly hovering over the door, ready to push it open and walk in.

the request took you by surprise. "i-no."

you missed him. there was no denying that.

you wanted him to tell you it was okay. wanted to go back to that night in his mclaren, the night he told you he liked you. wanted the weekends spent in london with his family. you wanted him, all of him.

his curly hair wrapped around your fingers, blue eyes staring at you, soft lips kissing you. his cold hands grabbing yours, and his voice saying your name. you wanted it to not be casual.

"i just want to talk to you."

he was drunk. there was no other way he would've showed up here, let alone begged to talk to you. the fact that he needed to be drunk to have this conversation made your blood boil.

"do you still have my jacket?"

of course, you still had his stupid jacket. the one that had his smell embedded into the fabric. it was an exclusive print mclaren had given him, and he had swung it around your shoulders after the night you had first made love to each other.

but he didn't care about the jacket, and neither did you. it was just a reminder.

you were silent for a while, taking in the sight of each other. it was his breath mingling with yours.

"i love you." he whispered.

your breath hitched in your throat, the tears finally falling out of your eyes as you sighed.

"i love you," he repeated to himself. "yes, i do. and i've known that since the day i met you."

you choked back sobs as you shook your head, "you're drunk, lando."

"i'm not," he chuckled, "maybe a little, but not enough."

then, he added, "i mean it. i love you." his voice was steady. he truly meant every word. but he didn't know what would happen now.

"what do you want me to say, lando?"

he sighed, "anything."

you laughed bitterly. anything, he said.

anything would've been better than what had happened.

"i don't think i can do this, lando."

"we can take it slow."

"you've never done slow."

he fell silent again because you were right. he'd never done slow. he didn't know how to take things slow. he was a fucking formula 1 driver, after all. slow wasn't something he did. he'd always lived life like it was the last day. and that's how he had lost you.

"i'm sorry," he began, his voice breaking. "i should've been a better person. i'm sorry for everything i did. i should've given you more, i-i should've loved you more, because you deserve so much more. i'm so, so, sorry."

"lando," you whispered, "it's not—"

"don't make excuses for me, please. i love you, i really do. and if i have to spend the rest of my life proving that, i will." and he meant every word. "i just want you back."

your mind was racing, a million thoughts running through it. it was like a movie. his blue eyes, his voice, the desperation in his tone, the way he stood before you.

"okay," you muttered.

"wait, okay? does that mean—"

"you're gonna have to work for this," you said.

"i know, and i will. i promise."

you sighed, rubbing your temple. this wasn't a good idea. "get in."

lando's face lit up, and before you could change your mind, he had walked into the apartment. he hadn't really been here before, considering you moved here after the two of you had stopped talking. but the apartment was lovely, homely. everything you.

you closed the door behind him, watching him look around the living room.

"how'd you know where i live?"

he chuckled, turning to face you. "i'm a famous driver. i have my sources."

"i'm sure." a tense silence followed, neither of you knowing what to say.

"i'm not letting this happen again," he blurted, "i'm not. i don't know how, but i won't."

"i don't believe you." you scoffed.

"fuck, baby, what do i have to do for you to believe me?" he stepped towards you, closing the distance.

"stop calling me that."

"you are my baby." he tried to joke.

"lando, i'm not joking."

"i'm serious too," his voice was sincere, "i love you, and i'll do whatever it takes for you to believe me."

you had been through a lot together. the highs, the lows. you had seen him at his best, and at his worst. the good and the bad.

he moved closer, reaching a hand out to hold yours. you didn't know why, but the moment his hand touched yours, it was like a switch had flipped inside of you.

you let his hand wander over yours like a ghost, his calloused fingertips tracing over your knuckles. he intertwined your fingers together, eyes casted down.

"i've never cared about anyone the way i care about you." he admitted in a soft voice.

and then he pressed his lips to yours. his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

and god, did he taste the same. lando had a way with his lips. it was a talent. he kissed you like he needed your lips to survive. he was desperate for your touch as if he had been starving without it.

you were so lost in the feeling that you hadn't realised how far you had pushed him until the back of his knees hit the couch, and he fell on top of it.

his eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, exposing his chest and toned abs.

the two of you stared at each other, eyes searching the other's.

"i love you." he murmured for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

maybe it was the way his blue eyes bore into yours, or the way his lips quivered, or maybe it was the fact that he had driven across the city to say this.

but for the first time that night, you believed him. and suddenly, the anger was gone. it was all gone.

"i love you, too." you whispered.

it was the only thing the two of you needed. the confirmation, the reassurance. the love.

you leaned down and connected your lips once more, hand reaching up to his curls and tugging lightly. he moaned into the kiss, pulling you on top of him.

your tongue entered his mouth, the taste of him making you lightheaded. his hands roamed over your body, the feeling of his skin against yours.

"baby," he whispered between kisses, "i want you so bad. i've waited so long."

his lips trailed along your jaw and down your neck, sucking marks into the sensitive skin.

"i want you," he murmured against the crook of your neck, "so fucking bad."

but he pulled away, flipping the two of you over so he was on top of you. he took off his shirt, and rested his head on your chest. he cleared his throat, "i should've asked this question earlier, but are you single?"

"yeah." you chuckled, running a hand through his curls.

"so, can i be your boyfriend?"

"lando norris," you hummed, "did you finally get the guts to ask me out?"

"yes," he smiled, lifting his head up to look at you, "yes, i did. will you be my girlfriend?"

"you're a dork."

"that's not an answer."

"yes," you laughed, "yes, i'll be your girlfriend."

lando grinned, and you grinned back.

yeah, it wasn't casual anymore.

(u guys im so sorry if i've tagged someone who doesnt want to be tagged i just had no idea how to let non-followers know part 2 is out bcs tumblr is not letting me reply to comments😭if anyone wants their tag removed, feel free to dm me!! i hope u liked this) @oscarpiassrri @meglouise00 @f1fantasys @technicallypleasanttree @ggaslyp1 @obxstiles @nataliambc @prudyhoo @idkwtdwml123 @ushygushybaby @emilyroxy @yootvi @fishingarden @pillowprincess4him @herexpertcollector

[likelysobbing]

nah let reader get her lick back now cause I can’t have us going down like this. Reader needs to get with one of the team immediately but it’s not like no rebound things it’s fr serious and Paige cannot stand it but who cares anymore?

𖥻 STUNNED. azzi fudd x reader x ex!paige bueckers (for the streets 2)

synopsis: paige’s eyes are on other girls, so azzi’s eyes sure as hell won’t let off of you now—and they’re the loveliest you’ve ever had the honor to look back at.

notes: RAHHH here it is! FOR THE STREETS part 2 ! hi nonnie! this is lightly, lightly, lightly LIGHTLY based off a song called makasarili malambing by hev abi and kristina dawn. sorry this took so long i was receiving my education! also, 3k+ words. if u read this u better read it all the way…tell me what u think too. i love interaction hehehe. also, i tried not to make paige suffer VIVIDLY, because i feel like it hurts more for player!paige to just silently regret #EL EM AY OH. thank u. also i put emphasis on eyes (adoration), the color green (envy), and make a lot of references to the previous fic. it’s linked on this post so go on and read it if you haven’t already <3 also, tagging @elalfywhore as per request hehe. hope you guys like it.

cw: READER’S A BIT OF A BITCH AT FIRST, But ends up folding because no one resists azzi bro, readers sassy, azzi is insistent, paige has avoidant attachment issues, no distinct establishment of a relationship but there is an implication of azzi and reader being more and both parties being okay with that (except paige. paige didn’t consent), PLAYER!paige

azzi always watched you.

you ignored it, especially while you were with paige—but she always watched you. azzi’s eyes seemed to favor trailing down your body more than anything else. whenever you ran into her and paige, back when you were still a couple, you had always kissed paige on the cheek—and azzi nearly leaned in everytime you approached her for a hug; maybe she expected a kiss on the cheek too— that’s funny, actually. but that’s unlikely, right? you ignore it. there was no way. no way she could have had any sort of interest in you.

especially now that you’ve practically estranged yourself from paige and her friends; that includes the basketball team. you haven’t said anything to them beyond ‘hi’ , ‘bye’ and ‘have a good day’—and they know why. they understand why. who wouldn’t want to do the equivalent of bury themselves in a hole if their ex girlfriend who they were so intent on marrying ended it all through a phone call while getting head from another woman? come on. you were sure they understood.

included in this very obvious mass-in-real-life-ghosting phase was none other than paige’s closest friend, miss goo goo eyes, miss azzi fuckin’ fudd.

you really tried to get her eyes off you, but it didn’t matter in the end.

azzi always watched you.

or like, maybe it was watch over instead of simply watch. watching over was more akin to what she did—she always checked in on you, maybe when she thought you weren’t looking her eyes would end up somewhere on your body that wasn’t necessarily scandalous—more so the space between your neck and shoulder or a collarbone. regardless, she had her eyes on you.

but watching you or not, you’re sure azzi didn’t mind you distancing yourself. you’re 100% sure she understood you being a bit too far to look at now? there was no need to dwell on it. you’re sure. you’re 100% sure.

… okay, well, maybe you’re 99.99% sure.

azzi sat across from paige, eyes slightly narrowing and widening as she felt the burn of yet another shot. the bass boomed in both of their ears, and each beat rung through their brain, but all azzi could focus on was that paige had let you go.

you. sweet, lovely, you.

she knew she wasn’t being slick when she watched you—her eyes always seemed to rake down every one of your features, and she wasn’t embarrassed about it. you were beautiful, and in paige’s arms you found your place. azzi couldn’t trespass on that—not because of paige, but because of you. you genuinely believed paige was inlove with you—pathetic, unheard of, even—but with how paige treated you, azzi began to believe it too… or she would’ve, if she knew paige less.

azzi didn’t rain on your parade of delusions hemmed by paige’s beautifully sown in lies.

but she wouldn’t deny that you would look better with her.

“you’re thinking again.”

there it is; paige was never one to think a lot, so she always questioned why azzi did. her decisions spoke for themselves. azzi pokes the inside of her cheek with her tongue, tilting her head just enough to turn her nose up at paige, who grins like she knows what this look is. azzi always seem to come up with the craziest shit, and right now—paige’s excited to see what she comes up with next.

“what you thinking of?” uconn’s number five asks, that drunken lilt unmistakable as she balanced speaking to uconn’s #35 and getting a lap dance from the girl she beckoned over (she knew nothing about her besides the fact she had a nice ass). azzi shakes her head, one side of her lips quirking up. that mystery only serves to make paige even more curious—as always, she doesn’t think twice about digging deeper.

“nah, come on, there’s something—“

“no, paige,”

“there’s someone.”

well, azzi can’t deny that, can she?

so, she burrows deeper into her seat and looks away. paige points at her like she just connected all the dots, going “oh!” like a frat boy surprised that his hunch was even correct. “who’s she?”

“she’s a she.”

“she’s a she and her name is what?”

“she.”

“that’s not a name, bro—“

“how do you know she isn’t a name?”

“bro. don’t do this. i’m drunk.”

by this point, azzi’s (a little bit!) drunk too. there’s adrenaline in her veins; sprinkle in that crazy audacity that paige seems to have all the time, and she could simply say what’s on her mind right now. or, maybe she should just say it to get it off her chest.

“your ex.” azzi murmurs. paige’s eyes darken, flickering from the common deviousness azzi’s so familiar with to something genuine she can’t seem to place. her jaw tightens, smile faltering just enough to make azzi’s own quirk up.

the lights flicker from red, yellow, green and purple randomly. by this point, she’s used to the strain—shes even memorized the pattern. the lights are going from red, to yellow, green, purple— purple again. so why … is paige all green?

“sorry, i don’t mean to impose,” was what she said to you first. you couldn’t even register she was near you at all. why was she even here, sitting next to you in a nearly empty library she’d probably benefit more studying alone in? you weren’t even in the same major. if she had a test to study for, you’d be of no help.

it was stupid of you to even assume studying was on her mind.

she just… did her own thing. in silence. she didn’t push, didn’t press, didn’t— she didn’t do anything. she was just on her phone. why was she in the library if she didn’t have any work to do? she had a whole friendgroup—maybe she did it to get away from them? wait, but why would she need to get away from them? did she need to hide? was she annoyed? why would she be annoyed? well, you don’t suppose it was paige, paige would definitely be quite an annoyance—

“yes?”

her voice is soft. softer than a feather landing on your skin. yet, like a feather, amidst how light her voice is—you feel it. it’s one word, but it takes just that to make you feel the one feeling you know will lead to more than multiple disasters.

interest.

you are interested in her.

azzi fudd’s big brown eyes were something you (and anyone in your place) could only resist for so long, and with one bat of her eyelashes and the flash of her sweet smile that—oddly—didn’t leave a bitter taste in your mouth. atleast, not like it usually did. you never saw her as anything more than paige’s bestfriend who was kind of into you (but also simultaneously there was no way she was into you because she was so pretty).

“you’ve been silent for the past two minutes.”

you blink. “… sorry.”

azzi smiles, again, and this time— you can’t help but smile back.

but it’s not that serious, isn’t it? there’s no harm in introducing new people into your life. there’s no harm even if it’s your ex’s bestfriend who’s watched you with for so long, and with such pretty eyes. there’s like, literally no harm.

you wouldn’t let there be any harm. you could open your heart to her a little. deal with her presence if it’s constant. bite back when needed, push away when called for, right?

“that’s okay.” she replies to you smoothly, looking back at her phone. “—just haven’t seen you in a while, you know.” she offers, and you freeze up. she doesn’t stop speaking. “i kind of.. missed you being close. like i get why—i understand, too, i just— you know..”

“yeah, i know you know. paige wasn’t really subtle with the breakup.” you murmured, “did she send you here to check on me, azzi?”

azzi blinks, scandalized by the accusation. “what… no? i don’t—i would never. i’m not like her— i mean, not like that— i just.. wanna be here?”

you raise an eyebrow, skeptically. “at this specific library?” and azzi inhales, “please don’t make me say what i know you know already.”

“i know a lot of things. but i don’t know what you think i know.”

“don’t you?”

“do i?”

“i just wanna be with you.”

that was easier to get out than you expected. hm, okay. okay— you tilt your head. “you’ve been with me enough, with how much you seem to hang around paige.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means i’ve only ever known you as one of her minions.”

azzi’s eyes widen, and she nearly gasps—once again— SCANDALIZED, by your statement—but she doesn’t. infact, you don’t expect what she does—because she takes your jab in stride.

“wooow, minions, huh? okay, well—why don’t you try to get to know me beyond it?”

“i’d actually rather not. i know who you hang out with.”

“just because i hang out with her doesn’t mean—“

you interrupt her with the zip of your backpack and the slam! of your books closing. “you’re all talk. you never act.”

azzi tries to cut you off with a little “hey, wait—“, her hand on your wrist, her eyes wide and pleading but you do not budge.

you shake her hand off your wrist when she tries to stop you from standing up. it’s the perfect picture of cold ruthlessness you know paige doesn’t believe you have—and you know what? if azzi is going to act like a messenger pigeon, which you assume she is, then you’re going to make sure she has a lot to say to paige when she comes back.

unbeknownst to you, azzi looks at what was once your chair and frowns. she feels your absence more than paige does. more than paige ever will.

and it stings. both for you, and her.

she comes to you again. this time, you’re in another library, and somehow she has enough devotion to presumably ruining your life that she finds you. she smiles when she sees you, waving with a tiny ‘hello’.

you place your bag onto the chair next to you and go back to work. you’re in the zone, there’s nothing stopping you— apparently besides the girl plopping your bag down onto the (dirty!) floor. how rude. how does she have the nerve to sit next to you? why does she still think you’re good? she may want to ‘be in your presence’ but who said anything about you wanting to be in hers? what the hell does she think shes doing?

“i think maybe you should let me tell you what i’m doing here.”

“i actually think you should leave.”

“i’ve only sat next to you twice.”

“twice too many.”

theres a silence on the other end and you think you won. you can’t help the smile on your face—the rejection felt good, in a sort of cruel way. azzi didn’t have any part in you and paige’s downfall, but she did stand by and watch it—you—burn.

so you’d set fire to whatever she was dreaming of in return.

“i always thought you looked better with me.”

record scratch.

“you’re crazy.”

“i am not.” she replies, “just a tad bit tipsy.”

“it’s nine pm?” you scoff, and she shrugs, “pre-game. anyway, i mean it. i always thought you looked better with me. you would, wouldn’t you?”

this time, you leave in a hurry. there’s literally nothing but ‘evacuate’ in your head as you rush to pack your bags, spouting whatthefuckwhatthefuck in your brain as azzi, realizing the utter stupidity of her actions, begins to flail her arms around directionless as she tries to stop you from leaving again.

“okay maybe that was a little bit uncalled for, i’m sorry let me rephrase—“

“no, i am not letting you— and no, i do not wanna find out. you got me fucked all the way up—“

“listen, okay, i just think you’ve always been out of her league—“ she tries to reason, and you look at her incredulously.

“you’re talking about paige bueckers.” you say, back now turned to azzi as you begin to walk out.

azzi shakes her head, already toeing behind you— “i’m talking about my close friend. one who couldn’t see your worth— please, will you let me try again? god, i’m sorry— you’re just so pretty, okay? and you’re so fucking sweet, you have such a pretty face and i just can’t help but look at you—“

“that is so creepy, azzi.”

“it is! i’m sorry!” she whines, obviously more than tipsy, “i’m sorry! just—“ she takes you by the hand, and you freeze up because it’s been quite a while since you’ve had physical contact that had even a smidge of romantic intent, and when you look back— god, there it is.

big, brown eyes.

looking right at you, a tad bit glossy—wide, and paired with by far the prettiest pout you’ve ever seen. “please.” she whispers, keeping in mind how you’re technically still in the library and she’s been looked at thrice for her theatrics—“please? just… let me hang around. i’m not going to force anything i just—want to know you.”

you’re stunned.

you’re in no state to properly answer; your mind is going a mile a minute, and so in desparation to just speak— you speak with your heart.

“nnn… okay.”

that was your heart. it forgot all reason, dignity, and self respect, apparently.

maybe azzi giving you a wide, toothy smile was worth it though.

“you’re seeing her?” paige repeated, some drink she forgot the name of swirling in her cup. azzi nodded, “figured she’d need something soft to land on.” she murmured, and though her words seemed casual—there was more meaning to them than paige could understand. azzi’s tone was expectant, hopeful—she wanted something to bloom between the two of you—something nice. pretty. good.

“and what is that? your chest?” paige’s reply interrupts her, and though she tries to sound teasing—she sounds more... irritated.

“maybe.” azzi grins.

“get outta here.” paige scoffs, taking another swig of her drink as she slumps back into her chair. “you can have her, it’s whatever bro. liter-ally whatever.”

“mhm.”

azzi’s nonchalance only bothers paige even more.

“i hope you understand i’m not ready yet.” was the first thing you said right after that awkward moment back at the library, “for a relationship, i mean. like, this fast.” you clarified.

azzi nodded, bouncing off you well, “oh, me too—you don’t need to see me as a threat. i just want to know you. i know it’s going to be hard, considering well.. your ex is my best friend. paige doesn’t mind—“ she pauses, before trying to reword. “i mean that—“

“oh, that’s fine. i can tell she doesn’t.” you wave it off, and azzi just smiles apologetically as she continues. “even if it’s hard on the both of us, i want to see where this goes. i’ve watched you too long to not want to be close.” azzi shyly murmurs, before trying to rekindle a lighter atmosphere— “just don’t get sassy with me, okay? i don’t like fighting with you.”

it’s been five months now. since she’s said that.

specifically, since azzi began to try to woo you. every flower she gave was always your favorite one, every ramble you graced her with was met with actual listening ears and comprehension, and nearly every thing you wanted? you had it in your hands the next day. azzi wasted no time in trying to show you she in fact, wasn’t like bueckers (who seemed to be meaner these past weeks, impossibly)—you never had to doubt her.

like actually. you never had to doubt azzi.

she didn’t knock on your door three times, but she was… special. enough. to have a key by the third month. she didn’t look you in the eye all that much, too shy to properly maintain it, but you knew she watched over you anyway. and when she held your hand, she was the one that squeezed first.

even if she hasn’t popped the question yet, there is no doubt in your mind that she’s yours already. she may have had grandeur, but unlike paige, she did not let it define her love for you. no, she won you over by the littlest things. the things that mattered.

its been five months now. since she’s said that.

and it’s felt like… six / seven … years?

however long it’s been, you know there’s a connection. and azzi knows too, because why wouldn’t she? she somehow knows everything. there’s always solutions to problems with her, always an answer to a math equation or an existential crisis— its all so different.

different from paige, you mean.

with azzi, you’re always… stunned— from how much effort she puts in, how bright her smile is, how she never seems to not have time for you—hell, you’re stunned whenever you see her. you know there’s something there, but you don’t know who’s going to make a move first—or atleast, when she is.

you don’t know if you should care at all. you don’t know if you should put yourself first, or if you even have real questions. you can’t even ask azzi like you’ve formed a habit of doing because she somehow always says the right things—you can’t even muster up a question for her: what would you say? ‘bro please kiss me already?’ no way.

“you ready to go?” azzi’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you blink to see her holding her hand out. ah, that’s right— you’re hanging out tonight. she’s taking you to her favorite spot across the town—that’s nice. you can’t wait to be with her.

you have so many questions you can’t muster, but maybe you don’t need to ask. maybe you just need to feel—her touch lingers far more than it stays, always tingling on your arm or your back; her absence causes you more heartache than you’d like; … it’s just her. maybe there are no more questions. maybe you don’t have questions, but either way, azzi has answers. she might as well be the answer to everything, actually. maybe there’s no need to dwell, no need to label it yet—lord knows what azzi wants.

you take azzi’s hand and she squeezes it first like she always does. it makes you smile wider this time.

this time, love is kind to you. it is soft and slow and yet passionate all the same. you don’t know where it might lead but the look in her eyes is worth it. this tenderness is worth it.

and you’re not afraid, wherever this might lead you.

paige bueckers.

big name. legendary name, even. yet she’s not as big and bad as shes made herself out to be right now. not at all.

in the same booth she was a few months ago, paige now sits alone. there are girls aching to get home with her, and she’s half-picking who should get that honor—but she’s trying to distract herself more.

the lights go red, to yellow, green, purple—purple again. so why does she feel so green?

envy is a rattle snake, and it wraps around her entire body. it squeezes tight, cutting circulation off to the point she’s so stiff she might explode— but it’s not because of you and azzi.

it’s not.

not even when her jaw clenches at the thought of you. and azzi. azzi is her bestfriend, and when she outright admitted to thinking about making moves on you—paige brushed it off with a laugh and a playful “she can’t even talk to half of us, bro—i got her heart broken … or like heartbroken or something.” but now, here she is.

and she’s not heart broken. shes not even bothered at all. she’s not.

she just doesn’t like to see you so close. why would she want you close? she’s done her time. pulled you in closer. you always burrowed in deep, she felt you in her heart. maybe that’s what sickened her— the feeling of endearment. you tried to reach your way in, but to paige it felt like you were tearing her apart—ripping her to shreds to crush the organ in your hands and make the victory against her sweeter.

she’s not heart broken. why would she be? there’s no one here breaking her heart.

there’s no one she lets close enough to even have a shot at it.

there is only her. and while she may not accept it, especially now? now that you are gone? now that she’s driven you away like she once did with every other girl who’s ever tried to come close—although you came closest—who came her way?

paige bueckers.

big name. legendary name, even.

but her heart breaks, and she’s the one breaking it.

@likelysobbing.

[sterifels-blog]

warnings ⚠️

•nsfw! 🔞 please do not interact if you are not 18+ ❤️ you are not my responsibility.

creepypasta

REQUESTED: how they'd react if you ask them what their favorite (body) part of you is.

bloody painter

•he would say your hands. he's intrigued by your fingers, as odd as it may seem. not so much the looks of them; but instead the power they wield. "you have such delicate hands for someone so strong... makes me wonder what they could do if they weren't holding a brush." the implication is there— and, it's more of an invitation then a question. he knows what you're capable of- but he thinks he's being smooth about the fact he wants your hand wrapped around his cock.

•soft, but possessive touches: he'll hold your hand in his and trace the lines of your palm with his thumb, enjoying the way your skin feels against his rougher hand. he's not always filthy- infact, he washes his hands more that you're around. he knows you can't stand the feeling of blood smearing all over yours off of his.

•places gentle kisses on your knuckles. he'll press a kiss to your knuckles after you've done something for him, silently showing gratitude in his own way. alternatively; as he's bumping his hips to snap his pelvis tight against your own— more-so panting onto your fingers as he holds them to his parted lips. he's grunting at how good you feel, his brows tight-- and knitted together while placing soft kisses to your fingertips. bro loves you.

•admiring the art of your hands: if you paint (hopefully, with normal supplies), he'll watch you carefully, entranced by the way your fingers move across the canvas. "i like how you create... i like how you touch things."

•okay brother. calm down.

•handcuff scenario: if he's feeling possessive, he might tie your hands just to keep you close, though it's always with a Iight touch, as if savoring the moment. it's that, or he's got you in his lap- your back pressed to his chest as one of his hands keeps your wrists pulled together, and the other is brushing hair out of the way so he can kiss your neck.

•earning affection: "i know these hands could do so much more, if i let you." a quiet invitation to explore.

clockwork

•she'd say your eyes. clockwork has a dark fascination with them, and she isnt shy about making that clear: "your eyes... they've seen more than i can imagine, and yet they still hold something innocent about them." she has no issue with tainting that innocence- although she chooses to cherish it for herself, opting to keep your mind safe and away from others. your eyes only on her.

•intense gaze: she'll lock her eyes on yours, not breaking contact, as if studying you. it's like she's searching for something deep within, and it makes you feel exposed, yet strangely desired. she'll be kissing from your sternum down to your pelvis, her nails dragging along your bare sides as she relishes in the feeling of your fluttering skin against her lips.

•her lip gloss paints your stomach in a shimmery raspberry hue as she kisses your skin, her thumbs digging into your hips as they massage in slow circles.

•she's huge on teasing: "i could lose myself in them, but you'd never let me. you'd just pull away, wouldn't you?" she won't give you much of an option to pull away. she'll have you on your knees in front of her, her hand cupped under your chin as she admires the tremble of excitement that rushes down your spine.

•gentle, longing touches. she gently cups your face, forcing you to keep eye contact "i could make you see things- things you don't want to. but... you trust me, don't you?"

•when you inevitably agree with her— saying that you do trust her, her hands are parting your thighs, shamelessly sighing as her tongue traces lazy drags against your clit and labia. (she's definitely the type to write her name with her tongue, over and over until you're whining for her to do something other than tease. you're not talking at all after that)

•behind-the-scenes power: "if you look away, i'Il only make it worse. keep looking... you're mine, aren't you?"

eyeless jack

•thoughtful to say your throat. jack has an intense interest with your neck/throat. he can't stop staring at your throat, where he knows your pulse beats, so close to the surface- so easy to cut off if he so much as squeezed you hard enough. if he so much as twisted your head quick enough to cause dissection. not that he ever would- no, no. such horrific things are only reserved for his victims- but his medical knowledge often gets the better of him when intimate with your body.

•gentle but dangerous touch. he'll graze his fingers lightly along the curve of your throat, his thumb brushing the side of your neck as though testing your response. he'll hum— his nail digging softly into the prominent vein on the side of your neck, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against it as though smelling the metallic flow from the outer-shell of your skin. he doesn’t say anything, but the way his hand squeezes is word enough. jack loves you, he's made it clear over and over again- but often, he still finds it necessary to remind you that you both are different. un-alike.

•dangerous affection: "i know the veins here so well... it's almost like could just.." he might trail his fingers over your throat, his mind going to darker places as he tightens the grip he has on you to just beneath your chin, tilting your head back with a little groan into your ear. he brushes your baby hairs away from the base of your neck, leaning in to place a kiss against the base of your skull, panting with hearty breaths whilst his hips rut slow, sloppy grinds against the cheeks of your ass.

•alternatively, he’s got your legs kicked apart, his own feet placed between yours as to ensure that you don't try and squeeze them shut. pinned to him, your back against his chest— jack doesn't let you loose as his fingers swirled wide circles around your clit. his teeth graze at your ear, murmuring quietly about how easy you were for him. predictable. and you were.

•teasing whispers: he'll lean close to your ear and murmur, "your pulse is fast... what's got you worked up? it's just me.."

•holds your throat while he's fucking into you from behind.

hoodie

•your ass. zero shame, zero hesitation: hoodie doesn't even try to hide it, "you've got the best ass i've ever seen. why wouldn't i look? you should be flattered."

•he's hands-on at all times. whenever you walk past him, his hand is right there. sometimes, he gives it a playful squeeze, other times a sharp smack that makes you jump. "what? you're the one who walked by me like that."

•you, in fact, didn't even walk by. he's the one who walked by you. too many times, will you give him silence in return for his tomassery– and each time, he does the same thing. he'll come up behind you, apologetically (🤥) sliding his hands down your waist to cup your ass as he presses a kiss to the back of your neck. "you know i'm just teasing.."

•favorite pose? you straddling his lap. he loves when you sit on him, especially facing away so he can rest his hands on your hips— or further down. "you're making it really hard to focus, you know. not that i'm complaining.."

•and he isn't complaining, especially when he’s able to bend you over the counter later that night, groaning and grunting as he 'thanks' you for the meal you'd cooked for him after a long mission assigned by the operator. he's tired, sure; but he always has some extra stamina stored away for times like this. seeing your ass bounce on his hips as his dick bullies against your g-spot is worth every bit of energy he has left.

•constant touching: if you're lying on your stomach, he's lying next to you, his hand lazily draped over your lower back and sliding lower.

•pulling you closer: if you're standing in front of him, he'll wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back against him, hands wandering. "c'mere. you're too far away. yeah, that's better."

jason the toymaker

•your hands

•craftsman’s admiration: “your hands... so delicate, yet so full of life. they could create so much beauty... if i allowed you.” his voice carries both fascination and a subtle possessiveness, enjoying how wrapped around his fingers you were. the innuendo is there, integrated in his words. why would you need to touch yourself when he was there to do all you wished for you?

•very gentle with his touches. he loves to take your hands in his, running his fingers over the smooth skin, almost as if memorizing every line and curve. the type of guy to intertwine your fingers with his own as he keeps your wrists pinned to the bed— huffing against your neck with steady, deep thrusts. loves kissing behind your ear, grumbling about how good you take him- make him feel.

•kisses to your palms. jason has a habit of turning your hand over and pressing slow, deliberate kisses to your palm. “such beautiful hands… wasted on anything but me.” definitely prompts you into giving him a hand job, obsessive over the way your fingers feel curled around him. he thoroughly can't get enough of you, and arm wrapped lazily around your waist as he sits you in his lap for a slow makeout.

•mild.. obsession: he’ll watch you when you’re doing anything with your hands—writing, sketching, even cooking. “it’s mesmerizing, really. i could watch you all day.”

•into playful (but freaky ass) control. jason likes to guide your hands when you’re working on something, his larger hands enveloping yours. “here, let me show you how to do it properly. not that you’re bad at it… i'm just better.” this applies to the bedroom, where he's guiding your hand; curling your fingers only when he allows you to.

•possessive comments: “these hands belong to me, no? no one else gets to feel them, hold them, or be touched by them.”

jeff the killer

•dangerous attraction to your thighs: "your thighs... they look so soft. i bet they'd feel even better wrapped around me." and they do— whether they are clung at the sides of his head, or straddling his hips as he helps you ride him after a particularly high stress day. he loves them more than anything else in the world.

•gentle possessiveness.. he'll casually run his hands over your thighs, his fingers lingering just a little too long as if marking territory. does it especially when you are all sitting in a group. if given the opportunity, he'll have you tucked between him and the arm of the couch, your legs slung over his own so his hand can rub up and down yours.

•plenty of flirtatious teasing: "how tight do you think those legs could squeeze, huh? show me, and i'II make it worth your while."

•when you go about showing him- he makes it a point to keep you at his disposal until you're too satisfied to complain about anything. his tongue is useful for talking— but it is just as skillful when it's dipped between your thighs, running between your folds until you're squeezing his head so tight, he was sure his skull would crack.

•loves giving you kisses to the inner thigh. on a whim, he might press a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, just to feel the warmth of your skin. after a particularly strenuous night of.. events, it's a subtle gesture of appreciation

•"i can't help it. your thighs are just... perfect. i think i could spend all day here, don't you?"

•mock care: if he's feeling particularly mischievous, he'll gently squeeze them and say, "relax. i'Il be gentle. for now."

jane the killer

•playfully seductive: "these hips of yours.. i could write a book about how perfect they are." she smirks as her hands glide along them, leaving goosebumps in her wake. by far, they are the most favorable thing on your body in her eyes- apart from the obvious sentiment of your breasts. she thinks the proportions of them match you perfectly.

•possessive hold. jane has a habit of gripping your hips firmly, puling you closer until there's no space between you- mainly around the others of the household. there is no denying that you're hers- but it is still in her nature to be competitive over that fact, especially with her other-sex counterpart being present. "you feel so good against me. don't think i'Il let go anytime soon."

•slow in admiration. her fingers trace the curve of your hips, almost reverently. "every inch of you is stunning, but this.. this drives me insane." you're hovered over her- sweat dripping down your spine and dampening the roots of your hair as her hands guide you in a rocking motion. they are clasped tightly to your hips, nails, digging into your flesh as she encourages you to tuck in your core. she doesn't mind doing the messy work of bouncing you on her strap, so long as numbs you into that blissful state.

•dually stimulates your clit just to see them buck.

•sultry whispers while standing behind you. she'll lean in, lips brushing against your ear as her sleek nails tickled your hips with repetitive strokes. "these hips were made for my hands, don’t you think? hm?"

•when things heat up, her focus always finds its way to your hips, her kisses trailing along the curves as her grip tightens. "you have no idea what you do to me." jane's eyes linger on your hips like they're the most captivating thing in the world.

kagekao

•your mouth and messy kisses. kagekao loves kissing you- rough, messy, and without warning. he thrives on the way he can leave you breathless and completely flustered. it comes of good use when you two are arguing. you'd been rambling about something- not that he was listening; but he captured the gist of you bitching about how he was leaving the house a mess. guilty— of course he was; but he wasn't going to acknowledge it. "can't talk now, can you?"

•shutting you up: secondary to a kiss, if you're rambling or talking back, he'll cut you off with a hand against your mouth; putting you into momentary silence. it is only when his hand moves to tug at the buckle of his belt do you understand where he is truly going with it. your mouth, around him- is as good as it is while talking. as skillful as your insults- just more quiet apart from the occasional gag to fuel his ego.

•playfully dominant. he's a master of teasing you into silence, brushing his thumb over your lips and smirking. "these lips of yours are dangerous... but i like the way they feel under mine." he's cheesy because he knows it gets you going. you'll cuss him out, commencing a back-and-forth between the two of you. and as much as he enjoys shutting you up— it is, unfortunately, your 'arguments' that get him swollen and tight in his slacks.

•messy control: if you're mid-argument, he'll pin you against a wall and kiss you hard enough to stop the words from coming. "i don't care what you were going to say." he's a bit of an asshole— and when it comes to an actual confliction, you're often pushing him away as to voice your opinion.

•obsession with your voice: he's addicted to the way your lips move when you talk (+ the sound of it), and he often stares shamelessly. "keep talking- let me watch those pretty lips of yours."

•if it's been a while since he's last seen you; and you have the chance to speak to him over the phone, he's 100% not opposed to rubbing one out with you on the line. he'll go silent, listening to you ramble on about something that seems insignificant compared to the raging throb of his erection. mindlessly hums in agreement to something he shouldn't have— and gets startled when you begin scolding him over the phone.

laughing jack

•jack has a shameless fixation on your legs, especially if you're blessed with some extra height. "your legs just go on forever, don't they? makes me want to see how far they can wrap around me." his words are said with a wicked grin, no shame in his tone. if you're smaller, no worries about it— he's still intrigued about how many positions he can wrangle you into, especially with your smaller size being an accommodation.

•loves, loves, loves having you up against the wall. it's not the most practical position- but he has the strength to pull it off. at no point in time will your feet be touching the ground. your legs are slung over his hips, and mercilessly, jack is giving you no time between breaths as he fucks in and out of you. he'd been worked up over a dress you'd worn out with jane; the gap of time from which you returned— to then being railed furiously almost nonexistent.

•the stupid cunt is constant teasing: he'll comment on how your legs look in any outfit especially if they're bare. "oh, you're just showing them off today, aren't you? that's just cruel." he especially loves seeing you in skirts or short dresses. a tight pair of pants will still do justice- outlining your figure, but seeing your skin is an entirely different experience for him.

•obsessive attention. runs his hands along your thighs and calves, almost like he's worshiping them, while making playful, almost mocking comments. "so soft.. are you sure you're strong enough to be here?" he knows you are, he has no sincere doubts that you've earned your place amongst the bunch; but it intrigues him how someone as hard working as yourself could have any aspect of a gentle physic leftover.

•payful biting: he'll nip at your legs from your calvee to your thighs, just to watch you squirm. "what? can't handle a little attention?"

•restless fascination: loves having his head in your lap, running his hands up and down your legs, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "how am i supposed to behave with these perfect legs right in front of me?"

•a good smack to the head will do it.

masky

•masky has an obvious fixation on your breasts. he won't even try to hide it. when you're in close quarters, his eyes are always drawn to your chest, and he'll casually glance at them before meeting your eyes, smirking. "could you be any less distracting?"

•shameless touching: he's the type to casually rest his hand on your chest when in private, grinning like it's the most natural thing in the world. if you're not paying attention, he'll give them a slight squeeze and say, "couldn't resist, sorry." which, is a lie. he's fully capable of resisting- but with you, he doesn't care much to.

•throughly enjoys having you ride him. if not only to see the way your face twists up in pleasure; then, to see the way your breasts bounce with each desperate thrust you chase after.

•loves seeing you in workout clothes— especially something like a workout bra that cups your breasts exceptionally. he'll come up behind you, hands wandering from your sides, and against your ribs to your breasts, his fingers fondling with the under-band of your bra appreciatively. places soft kisses on the back of your neck, humming in approval as he relishes in the sight of his palms engulfing your chest in the gym mirror.

•unapologetic flirting: "look real fucking good in that top. deserve some attention, don't you think?" he'll lean in close, just to make it clear that he's very aware of what he's doing- not that you had any doubts.

•although secondary pleasure wasn't normally accommodated on his schedule (nor does he have a high drive for it)– when you gave him a tit job for the first time; he swore he was knocking on heavens door. he could hardly keep himself from giving in too early- grunting and huffing as he dragged on his cigarette, prolonging his climax for as long as he could. cusses the entire time, groaning about how good you were.

•proximity: when he sleeps, he'll have his face tucked against your collarbone, his arms wrapped around you as his nose divets to your sternum.

slenderman

•control obsession: he’s drawn to your wrists, knowing just how delicate they are and how easily he can take control. he loves— and definitely gets off on the feeling of holding them tightly, guiding you however he sees fit. “your wrists are so fragile... better reason for you to listen"

•possessive in his grip. slenderman will sometimes just stand behind you, his long fingers brushing your wrists in a possessive, almost ritualistic manner, ensuring you feel his presence without him saying a word. he might even trace your veins as if marking them as his own— otherwise, silently reminding you of your merciless place beneath him.

•soft yet firm restraint. if you’re not paying attention, he’ll slip his tendril around your wrists with a cold, firm grip, keeping you in place. his touch is both controlling and almost comforting, as if trying to stake a claim over you that is inevitable. keeps you from moving too much, because it “makes it easier to work with you.”

•tying you up: there’s something about restraining you with ropes or simple threads that bores him. he's more into using his tentacles— wrapping them around your wrists slowly, ensuring it’s just tight enough to restrict movement. it’s a methodical and precise act. “you’ll stay still. you can handle this, can you not?"

•borderline sadistic during intercourse with you. overstimulation is a guarantee— his tentacles cuffing your wrists together as you squirm on the silk of his bedding. relentless. your breaths heave in desperation as his thumb circled your clit for what felt like hellish hours on end, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes that he brushes away with little care- only after they'd began to trail down your cheeks.

•fingers that linger: when he’s guiding you through a task, his fingers press against the soft skin of your wrist, sending shivers up your spine. it’s a constant reminder of his dominance and the way he can bend you to his will with little effort. sits you between his legs and has you ride his fingers, kissing the flat surface of your inner wrist.

•silent manipulation: whether you’re walking or sitting, his hands will often find their way to your wrists. the way his fingers curl around them feels almost hypnotic, leaving you unsure if it’s affection or an underlying threat.

ticci toby

•possessive grip: toby's hands will find their way to your chest, casually gripping them as if it's the most casual thing in the world. he's not gentle, but not rough either— just firm enough to feel like he's marking his territory. "i like having you close. ganz in der nähe" the words may seem innocent enough, but they are the furthest thing from it.

•soft, but intense. if you're in his arms, he'll keep you pressed against him, his hands roaming under your clothes to gently feel and play with you. his breaths hitch as he does, clearly enjoying the closeness more than anything. not being able to feel much- it's intriguing for him to see how you react to something he assumed would feel so insignificant.

•when he figured out you enjoy it- quite a bit, he'll find himself stroking your ribs more often, tracing over your collarbone.

•huffs of approval: when he feels the soft weight of your breasts in his hands, you'll hear him let out a pleased sigh, followed by a low chuckle. "you can't help making these noises when i touch you, hm?" he enjoys them, thoroughly. in fact, it's something he favors, doing whatever he can to pry the sweet sounds from your lips.

•missionary— classical. he's got your back pinned to the bed, one arm wrapped around your spine as he lay a series of open-mouthed kisses to your throat, trailing down to find one of the pebbled nipples of your breasts. the sound of your breathy moan is almost enough to make him brick up again, a low groan leaving his throat as his lips engulfed your tit with gluttony. he could worship you like this for hours- but not without his own share of enjoyment.

•light teasing: if you react to him touching you, even just a little, his grin widens. "i know you like it. you don't need to hide it." he'll lean in close, letting his breath ghost over your neck. there's nothing he enjoys more than getting a reaction out of you— and it severely agitates him when you silence yourself.

•insecure softness: as unhinged as he may seem, he can get a little soft about it, too. "i just... i need you close, okay? don't push me away." he's not one to beg, but there's something desperate in his voice when he holds you like this. loves having you against his chest, feeling your bare skin pressed against his own.

[aurmisery]

- a little death -

ronin b. x gn! reader !!

inspired by a friend of mine in the rose's rot discord, vanity! @vanitywoo

hi erm this is my first time putting down a killer chat! work of mine on here uhhhhhhh

cw // mentions of sh scars on mc -

please tell me if anything else in here can be considered triggering !!

okay enjoy!!!!!1!!1!!!!2! sorry if this is ass and or ooc for ronin bro i TRIED MY BEST I TRIEDMYBEST

1878 word count!!!!!!!

FUCKIFORGOT THIS US FLUFF BTW

-

you know when you walk into someone's room, you can immediately tell what kind of person they are? what posters they roll on their walls, what decor they line the edges of their room with- if they have LEDs, what merch they willingly buy and if they have a whole shelf for said merch, etc?

if you were to walk into ronin's room with no idea of who he is other than his oh so charming looks, you might just say "typical, makes sense given his aesthetic." even if the jars of human remains seemed a bit too hardcore and realistic.

it all fit though, the color palette ranging from all hues of red, black, and white, the masks, the lava lamp, the VHS tapes, the illuminated 'KORN' sign hung in the corner of his room matching the 'still alive?' frame with a cartoonishly drawn heart- it was all him- it screamed ronin.

the plainest thing in his room was probably his bed- and he knew that. it was just a black headboard and footboard, with a red duvet and pillows with a white blanket overtop it. it did match the color scheme, which was enough for now, but it was missing something.

.

.

.

but as his pupils grazed over your steady form, warm and breathing, he realized something.

the slight flush of your cheeks, the way your eyelids fell heavy over your unblinking stare, the hazy glare of his TV burning a light glow over your side-

the ruffle of your hair, your legs snaking awkwardly with his, fingers mindlessly tracing invisible doodles over his forearm, and the slight quirk of your brow as your eyes retrace back to his.

"what's up?" your lips curl upwards slowly as his eyes noticeably fade from the trance he planted himself into, brows slanted upwards as he slow blinked.

"...youuuu good?" a small giggle slewed unevenly from your grin, and he scoffs, a playful jab at the side of your waist following the roll of his eyes.

"'m fine, jus' thinkin'. what about you, darlin'? feelin' comfortable in the devil's den?"

you flop over on your right side, facing him rather than the TV, propping yourself up on one elbow with your other arm tracing the angle of his jaw.

"for a devil, you're rather accommodating, i'll give you that," you tease, and he revels in it; in your warmth, in the fiery trace of your finger along his jawline, and for once, his hell is starting to feel a bit hot.

"in a literal sense, if i'm laying in your bed, wearing your shirt, cuddled up with you, watching old slashers, i think i'm as comfortable as i can ever get."

it's his turn to grin, moving his hand from its resting position on your hip to the small of your back, letting a small exhale he didn't even know he was holding fall from his lips.

his downcast eyes flicker from the graphic tee bagging low under the curve of your shoulders to the width of your thighs, and he couldn't help but feel a little warmer.

you did look good in his clothes.

and as your hand caressed his cheek, his head melting into your warmth, he spots something along the flex of your arms.

his blackened irises almost narrow at them, but they reverted back to whatever you would call normal as his hand drags from your back to the base of your arms, fingers gently rubbing over the faded marks of your pliant skin.

at this, the knitted furrow of your brows came together, a slight wrinkle in your expression as you awkwardly chuckle, a defensive grin uneasily firming itself on your cheeks.

"what's this for?" you question, a wry smile on your face as you realize the implications of his stare, and the look on his face...was just blank.

"no reason, just glad you don't...do that anymore, i guess."

with a shiver up your spine, you firm up your lips into a sheepish smile, nodding with a creak to your voice. "aww, c'mon. can't even say that without the 'i guess' at the end?"

and then he laughed, the tiniest hue of cherry blending into his ivory skin, his onxy irises filled with amusement.

"is it like me to carve open my chest and bare it fresh? i'm not that much of a romantic, darlin'."

it was your turn to scoff, turning over onto your stomach and reaching out to cup his chin with the flex of your fingers, thumb lolling over his bottom lip.

"'i'm not that much of a romantic, darlin'," you mock, voice whiny and pitchy before you deadpanned, eyes narrowed at him.

"oh please, cut the bullshit, ro. not that much of a romantic my ass."

ronin weaved a palm through the plum tresses sitting upon his head, a dismissive hum resting in his throat as he looked you over. "i'm not really, i mean- i kill people?"

"yeah- abusers. usually, anyway."

you then fanned out your hands, your digits extending with each gesture you were about to point out, pupils darting upwards into your lashes as if recounting your times together.

"our motorcycle dates? the shirts you give me each time i come over? the way you snuggle against me while we watch movies, when you complain about being cold to get me closer to you, when you crack cheesey jokes about how lonely your lips are, how-"

"okay, okay, i get it."

and as you took a glance at your boyfriend, a bead of sweat brimmed at his forehead and neck, face flushing a hue of carmine as his words spewed out in an exasperated rush.

you grin.

"oh, and that time you rushed me through your front door after i got drenched by the rain despite the fact that you were also soaked. when you prepared me soup in worry that i would get sick, and while i didn't get ill, you did the next day."

you were trying to be subtle, but with how his pupils were blown out and watching your every move, he was probably more aware of your slow crawl over to him than you were, the mattress making a small dip where your knee paused.

"then, i stayed over the whole time and nursed you back to health while we watched your favorite movies? or when i stopped by your job and you purposely wiped your face with the front of your shirt to flash your-"

"okay, fine! fuck, you win!"

his face was hot and covered by a thin sheen of sweat, a hand flayed out over his jaw to hide his most-likely embarrassed expression, brows arched downwards into a glare. he couldn't even look at you.

ronin beaufort, flustered? ronin fucking beaufort, embarrassed?!

you just made the devil bow his head.

a boisterous laugh bounced out of the pits of your stomach- jesus christ, you've rarely never seen him like this before, all shy and flustered.

your arms snake over your own abdomen, trying to pat down the rumbling giggles orchestrating from your gut with a roll onto your side, and you feel his elbow butt between your ribs playfully.

"give ya an inch and you take a mile, huh?"

he grumbles, giving you a nudge as you only cackle further, slapping a palm over your eyes to smear the tears pearling at your lash line.

"god, your face is fucking priceless when you're embarrassed! geez, i shoulda taken a picture, would've been amazing to have that spammed in mai-"

without skipping a beat, he reeled you into his arms, before turning and slamming you down right in the middle of the bed, hands jabbing and feverishly dancing over your sides.

all the sudden, your laughing increased tenfold- tears springing out of your eyes like sprinkles as you jerked, bucked, and kicked in protest of his tickling, but you couldn't do anything against his iron grip.

you felt like you were dying, stomach exhausted as you guffawed and blabbered, hiccups along the lines of "i can't-" "wait, my stomach hurts-" "have mercy-" following between the tears pitifully steaming down your reddening face.

he lets out a soft-hearted snicker, his body over yours and his knees pinned on either sides of your hips. his plum locks tickles your forehead, reminding you of the teasing grin on his face as he mercilessly dug at your sides- before his fingers traced upwards to your collarbone, and-

his fingertips padded over your neck, before your head jerked instinctively and you could only cackle further. is he trying to kill you?

and finally- you fought back, hands reaching up into his shirt.

he stiffened, eyes widening as your hands snaked up into the black fabric and wandered over his lower waist, making him jump and bubble his cheeks- as if that would quiet his laughter.

but you powered through the pain in your gut from laughing your vocal cords out and frenzied your hands up his abdomen, he gave out, falling pathetically besides you as you took your sweet, sweet retribution.

his arms flexed over his head in defense, lashes clenched shut as his face buried itself into the pillow besides him, almost as if taking cover from your violent antics.

you curl over against him, hands jabbing and frantically scurrying up his shirt as his laughs and pleas muffle besides you, and then-

your hands seemingly touched a sore spot, his laughs dying out and his breath hitching, as if he was in pain. finally taking a second to feel the skin below your palm, you handle it with deft, and...

it's smooth, slightly arched in size, extending from the middle of his chest to the side of his pecs. you lift up your head to look up his already hiked-up shirt, and...

it's his scars. a cringe forms in the side of your gut, fuck- did you piss him off?

"sorry," you usher lowly, withdrawing your hands, only for his to grab your wrists, placing them back right back on his chest.

his thumbs roll over your wrists, reassuring your tense frame back into ease, and you eye his facial expressions carefully.

his eyes are beady, sucked into the way your thumbs navigate the faded discoloration of his torso, brows furrowed and watching with a slight quirk in his lips.

and then his eyes harden.

"do you, uh," he begins, tone devoid of that usual bite he has to it, gaze wandering away from your hands on him, from your face and to the corner of his room.

"do you see me as, y'know, uhm-"

"the devil? hell yeah."

he smiles.

it was so... genuine, so adoring, blooming through the erasure of his doubts, of your validation- even as his soft hair messily spiraled into his vision, he couldn't take his eyes off you.

and as you slink besides him, letting your head sink into the pillow conjoined with his- he realized something, and this time he took full joy in memorizing it.

your touch, your voice, your sweet, sweet lips- even the messy, unbothered display you shroud around.

the way you smile at him in the dim light of his room, the warmth radiating from your body as your lips brush against his.

you're all the decoration he needs.

-

okay hi i hope you liked itsorry for the words being kinda clunky here n there???? ok bye

[evilminji]

God, I am... so obsessed? (SI-OC thoughts)

PIDM/SVSSS/Xanxia let me gooooo .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·.

Back on my bullshit, with another Treasures Maker™. But like... make um TANK. Go ALL in. No being coy about it. No holding back. Balls to the wall, batshit insane Treasure Maker.

A real "w-why would you..." Sort of creator. Tentacle with a knife sort of "....wanted to see what would happen." Kind of gal. No one is safe and EVERYONE is nervous. Put the crafting supplies DOWN, shimei! Back AWAY from the crafting rooms! You KNOW you have to be supervised in there!

No one wants another... Incident™! (WE DO NOT SPEAK OF THE INCIDENT™!!!)

Cause like?

They? Had a brother. That brother? Was gross. We love um, but teenagers, man. Violence and boobs. 2 Edgy 4 U media. That sort of shit. It was his bread and butter for like... Puberty.

Not! To say he was a bad kid! God, no! But he WAS basicly soaking in sweat, hormones, and teenage "oh god I'm so horny I couldd die but also AaaaaaAAAAAAA-!!!!" Brain fuckery. Not fun. She survived it, does NOT recommend, but still retains the Sisterly right to ROAST his deeply shit reading tastes (lightly).

After all? Who amongst us? Has not read terrible, terrible Smut based power fantasies? People in glass houses and all that.

.....she DOES wish she, you know, stuck it out. Read that trashfire COMPLETELY. Not just the spark notes, wiki, and that hilarious rant compilation of the Honorable Cucumber Bro (A Legend, we stan. God, what a psycho(affectionate)). But like... not her genre, man. She's an otome nerd. Her Meta knowledge aint worth SHIT.

But! Trying to relate to her brother? Listening to him excitedly talk about the latest chapters and current arcs? DID leave her with SOME knowledge. Enough knowledge.

Specifically?

This world is SHIT to women.

Like? A legit horror reality. Everyone has somehow? Still got that bullshit, purity culture, your honor is stored in your virginal, mint condition, breeding stock hoo-haa. While being surrounded by more natural aphrodisiacs then any Hentai universe could excuse! Like? EXCUSE ME!?

You can't SPIT, without hitting three Fuck Or Die plants and the aphrodisiac poisoning monster that LIVES IN UM!

But we, the WOMAN, would be a whore, should we be struck by the damn near inevitable? Airplane... you sexist HACK! (*Qinghau... feels like he's in danger*)(He swears he DIDNT MEAN IT! He just didn't think of the implications! About A LOT OF SHIT!)

Not to MENTION?

The fucking (quite literally) BODY HORROR fuckboi Protagonist! With his MONSTER DICK! Like? Look... she is a GROWN ASS WOMAN, okay? She KNOWS how sex works! Apparently, she is one of the privileged few in this universe who DOES. And while her little brother and that hack author may buy into the troupe "all women want huuuuuge, big, improbable, monster dicks"?

Ha ha! GOD, No. They do NOT. That is PURELY a male thing! It's a masculinity thing. Some power fantasy, male envy, "look how manly I am" bullshit. WOMEN? Have ORGANS. And while there ARE outliers (gods bless, we salute you. Go for greatness, you mad, mad queens.) MOST of us? Like bits that FIT.

You know... WITHOUT the Protagonist's so called "blood Gu". (Thanks! That's a HORRIFYING THOUGHT! Both on the "what do MEAN he, a non medically trained fuckboi, LITERALLY REARRANGED THEIR INSIDES?" lvl AND on the "WHAT DO YOU MEAN PARASITES IN THE BLOOD‽‽‽" lvl.)

So SI-OC? Rightfully? Wants Mr "All Women Are Belong To Me" NO WHERE near her. The fact that he's a demon? Irrelevant. The fact that he's an unrepentant MONSTER of a man? With a body horror dick? VERY relevant.

BEGONE XANXIA SATAN.

Leave her and her orifices the FUCK ALONE. You psychotic, sect murdering, realities destroying, selfish, narcissistic Fuckboi!

Not that she remembers much of the "cool motive, still murder" Phase of his life. Nor does she care, with how many people he fucks over. She wants to get far, FAR away from that mess. And more SPECIFICALLY? She wants to SURVIVE that mess. Which requires power.

She doesn't HAVE power.

But? She DOES have some Meta knowledge... and a shit ton of patience.

Cause after all, what is better then a protection talisman sewn onto a robe? Ten Thousand Protection Talismans sewn onto a robe, which is only ONE of a SET. And that? She can do.

To hell with pretty embroidery. Flowers and bamboo. Birds in flight. No, with Qi enhanced sight, and steady hands? The finest needle and the strongest, thinnest, thread? Script so tight and small it light grains of rice. Over and over and OVER. Each of her layers, holding thousands upon thousands of words. So small it's near impossible to read.

Which, of course, is to say nothing of the ribbons. Such long HAIR, after all! Only a FOOL wouldn't make USE of that space. Portioning out her head into hundreds of tiny braids, talisman written ribbons woven all the way down.

Every bit and piece of her clothing, a masterwork of steady repetition and patience. A fortress, built brick by brick. Not inconquerable. But strong enough, that even the heavens would strain.

Of course... only so long... as she's WEARING such armor.

Everyone must sleep eventually. Must bathe. You can not wear only one thing FOREVER. And that IS the difference between the strength you create and the strength you simply possess. One of them? Is always with you.

And like? Imagine it.

Big Sister. The penultimate Immovable Object facing off against Bingme's Unstoppable Force. Her DECADES of quite preparation unfurling like the waking of a slumbering GOD. All those traitors to the Sect. Women who BETRAYED their own. Betrayed their bothers and sisters, the CHILDREN they were supposed to guide and teach. For DICK. Having their attacks against her turned back against them.

Lethally.

As the remaining Peak Lords fight, a literal beacon of power. Of Safety. Sweeping through and grabbing survivors. Tossing them into a hidden realm she's literally wearing around her neck. Small but stable, her graduates work in progress. It's sparse in there. More bare earth and barely planted medical plants then anything. A few fruit trees.

But? It's beyond the reach of these invaders. And unless Luo Binghe kills her? Gets past her every defense and prys the anchor from her cold dead hands? Then they are safe. For now.

The sect may be lost. At least in terms of buildings, land. But it's PEOPLE? The important part? Not so long as she lives. The selfish dramas of demons and men are none of her concern. She has students, children, and the injured to protect.

And obviously, this makes her a target. She's shining like a God damn mini sun. It's not subtle. But the sect is burning, there's demons everywhere, she kinda expected that. At least she gets to kill a few of those traitorous "wives" on her way out.

(They betrayed their sisters. Their students. Their FRIENDS! This was their FUCKING HOME!! If they thought the Sect unforgivable? They should have LEFT. Not attacked as children fled for their lives. Cultivators are meant to kill monsters, not BECOME them.)

She takes them, her copies of as much of the libraries as she could manage on her own (it's not enough. Forgive her. She had to prioritize.) and heads for the border of the map. As fast as Cultivation can travel.

Did the Realms truely merge? Or did this portion collapse together? If they fly far enough, will they find the edge? And should it ALL have collapsed... he's not explored it yet. They have time to rebuild. Heal. Train and grow stronger..

All is not lost. Not yet.

Besides...

Who's to say that Fuckboi is the only Protagonist in this world? The only child of the Heavens? Maybe there are other gods. Maybe... maybe those gods are pissed. At the presumption. The arrogance. Maybe... just maybe, those gods will help. Who can say? It's never been done.

But is that not the duty of a righteous cultivator? To do what is right? To fight against monsters? What greater monster is there then this? The child not embraced by the village, will come to burn it down. But Luo Binghe? He has decided to burn the WORLD to ashes. And such madness must be stopped.

It doesn't matter how it began. They're gonna end it.

Together.

@mayfay @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @babbling-babull @hdgnj @leftnotright

[hadeslegacyhephgirl]

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

People smile in different ways, Jason notices. There's happy smiles and sad smiles and anxious smiles and all kinds of different others.

He knows it's weird, knowing what each smile means for each person, but its- easier, in a way.

Percy smiles tight when exasperated Annabeth's happy smile is big and bright, anything less means she's either tired or far away Hazel smiles easily, but softer when she's truly happy Pipers smile is somehow consistent, it's how she holds her teeth Frank only smiles when he means it

Leo-

He doesn’t even know how to start with Leo

Leo is always smiling, always, like its his default setting. Leo smiles big and bright as a distraction from prying further into his past Leo remembers with a soft smile, almost unconsciously Leo's smile always has an undertone of sadness.

--------

Leo hasn't shown up for dinner.

But its normal- he's probably just lost track of time to fiddle with something.

Which is why Jason is here, in the engine room, feeling way too big as he weaves over, under and around the various bits of equipment- pipes, turbines, etcetera, trying to find Leo He's being guided by instinct- heading for where he's guestimating Leo's favourite spot it.

There's a clang, and a string of Spanish expletives, and Jason- Jasons heart shouldn't have skipped a beat, but it does. He's definitely not thinking about the implications of the fact that he knows where Leo's favourite spot is, even when Leo hasn't even shown him. He's not thinking about any of it, because he's not here to think, he's here to get Leo to eat something for once in a while.

"Leo?"

Another Spanish expletive. A clang, This time the swearing is not in Spanish.

Jason tries very hard not to laugh, but when Leo's head pops up unexpectedly from behind the massive pipe, looking frazzled, Jason loses it. There's a pause, then Leo's laugh is joining his own, and Leo scrambles around the pipe to stand beside Jason as their laughs calm down to giggles  and then to comfortable silence.

"What'cha here for, Supes? To laugh at me or do you need something fixed"

Jason reaches over and pokes Leo's head

"Yeah. I need you to fix your internal clock. You missed dinner, Fireboy" "I never should have showed you that game" "You love it"

Silence. Slightly more awkward.

Then Leo's smiling again, big and bright- the one he hides behind.

The one only used in this kind of situation.

Around Jason.

Jason ignores that thought, and turns his attention back to Leo, who's rattling on about engines or something- an excuse, most likely, so he responds in kind.

"Yeah, yeah, just get to the kitchen, Valdez. C'mon, I'll race you"

It's a distraction, and they both know it.

A distraction from whatever- this is.

Leo takes him up on that, and they race through the ship until they're at the dining hall out of breath, giggling again.

--------

When they enter the room, Jason takes everyone's expressions in quick.

Piper, smiling in a ooh, there's some gossip way Hazel, with a soft, entertained smile Percy, with his hey, it's my bros! expressive smile

Annabeth, with no smile, but her lips are twitching, unsure whether to smile or frown Frank, not paying attention to them.

Coach Hedge absent from the room, probably on patrol.

Leo's smile strains, shrinks a little. Embarrassed.

-------

Jason's watched Leo's smiles, every one of them.

He knows them, like he knows his own.

And still, Leo surprises him with different ones.

Jason doesn’t think he'll ever finish figuring out Leo's smiles.

That’s okay.

It means theres a reason, however small, to stick around. It'll never be his official one, obviously, maybe, probably. But it'll be one. One for himself, if not for anyone else.

-------

[joojeans]

˚◞♡ ⃗ I Dare You Pt. 3

♡ Bestfriend!Nicholas x Afab!Reader

♡ Summary: You’re sitting on the floor with your friends playing a juvenile game–truth or dare. Things have been spiraling out of control for some time now, but what happens when you’re dared to turn on one of your best friends without touching them? Can they handle it? Can you handle it? Spoiler alert: neither of you can. Find out how things go from seriously fucked up to seriously fucked, one member at a time.

♡ WC: 3.9k

♡ Content: lbr nicholas needs a warning all on his own, nicholas is falsely confident at the beginning, the boys are on each other's asses, reader is head empty only nicholas (real), oral (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (be smart), 'baby' used a couple of times, creampie

♡ PREVIOUS | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT

“You’re so cute. You can barely handle telling us a little dirty secret without your ears getting all red.”

You can barely hear Nicholas–your attention on K’s phone as he shows you a funny video–but you know he’s talking to Euijoo. It was just his turn during this round of truth or dare. You think you remember the question being about a fantasy of his, but you weren’t really paying attention, to be perfectly honest. You thought K wasn’t either until you hear him scoff at Nicholas’s teasing, looking up from his phone with a taunting smirk.

“I wouldn’t talk if I were you. You get a tent in your pants if the wind blows the wrong way.”

You look up now, choking back a laugh at a smug Euijoo and an annoyed Nicholas, tongue pushing into his cheek.

“Hey, fuck you.” Nicholas retorts, half playful, half deadly serious.

“Prove it then.” Euijoo. Silence follows for a second as everyone looks at him curiously. His ears are burning slightly from all the attention, but he’s determined not to back down right now. “It’s your turn. Let’s see how easily you crumble with a little attention.”

“Bro, unless you’re planning on making a move on me, I’m not following.”

Euijoo hesitates for a moment, realizing he hasn’t thought his plan and its implications through. He reluctantly looks in your direction but he can’t bring himself to say what he was thinking. Luckily for him, Fuma seems to understand. He chuckles.

“Y/n, I think he’s suggesting that you should be the one to give this a go.”

You watch as Nicholas’s eyes grow wide, shocked. Somehow even more shocked, Euijoo sits up straight from his spot on the couch, shaking his head insistently. “N-no. I didn’t mean that. You don’t have to do that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t think I was–”

“Euijoo, relax. It’s fine.” You laugh, a fondness in your heart. “Obviously I should be the one to give this a go. Look at me. He wouldn’t be able to resist.” You wink, hoping to soothe his nerves. It seems to work, his shoulders relaxing and his bright smile creeping back onto his face.

You dart your eyes next to him: Nicholas. He looks antsy–nervous?–thinly veiled with surety. As expected.

“So? Are you going to let me try? I believe this is your dare, so it’ll look really embarrassing for you if you chicken out.” You’re poking the bear. You’re smug.

Nicholas exhales a laugh, his eyebrows indicating his surprise at the situation he’s found himself in. “I’m not going to stop you.”

You smirk. Perfect. “Okay, so what are the rules?” You ask, glancing at everyone else for guidelines. Nicholas probably doesn’t have much of a say here.

“I think…” K starts, humming as he ponders. “Everything is fair game as long as you don’t touch his dick. That would be too easy.” The other men mumble their agreement, heads nodding.

“Easy enough. You ready?”

Peacocking, Nicholas sits further back into the couch, spreading his arms out along the cushions on either side of his head. He lets his legs fall open, inviting you to his entire body. No verbal confirmation needed.

You don’t believe him. You know you can get him to fold. Without wasting much time, you stand up and make your way to the couch. Once you’re standing in front of Nicholas, his eyes firmly on yours, Euijoo quickly moves from his end of the couch, taking the seat on the floor next to K.

You’re just gazing at each other. He’s looking up at you like he’s expecting your best effort. You’re looking at him like you can’t wait to fuck with his head. Smiling much too sweetly, you slowly lower yourself to your knees in front of him. His eyes follow you, a glimmer of fear igniting in them. You know exactly what he’s afraid of. He knows he’s fucked already. He’s still trying to pretend that’s not the case.

“Hi, Nicholas.” You coo, both hands curling over his kneecaps.

“Hey,” he says simply. He doesn’t plan on giving you much to work with. That’s okay.

“I hope you’re having fun tonight.” Your hands glide slowly up the tops of his thighs, venturing to the outer sides as you move higher, careful to avoid his crotch. His eyes are trying to decide whether to look at you or watch your hands, ping ponging back and forth. “I know I am.” Your hands move up to his hips, finding the waistband of his jeans. Your fingers curl into the belt loops on the sides.

And then you pull.

Just enough to yank his body down the couch a bit more. Just enough to have his torso almost parallel to the ceiling. The soft, surprised gasp that pushes out of his lips is gorgeous.

Just this much is enough to extinguish the confidence in his eyes almost completely.

You fight the urge to smirk at him, keeping up the innocent appearance despite your actions being anything but. You untangle your fingers from his belt loops, your hands hovering by his sides as you look up at him. “That’s better, isn’t it? Much more comfortable this way.” You muse the words, not believing them, but selling them to him anyway. You keep your eyes on his as your thumbs hook under the hem of his t-shirt. You push your hands up slowly until his stomach is exposed to you and then you stop. His lips are parted in awe.

In an attempt to lighten the tension that’s building up in his body, Nicholas forces a laugh. “Y/n, what are you even doing? This is ridiculous…”

“Mm.” You hum, tilting your head like a confused puppy, your lashes batting sweetly. You don’t humor him, instead leaning down towards his stomach. You see his skin jump as you approach it, your lips far too close. “Pretty,” you mumble, bringing your hand up to stroke the small tuft of hair above his jeans. He tenses more. You smile.

“Y/n.”

You pause for just a moment to look back up at him. You want to give him the opportunity to stop you if he’s uncomfortable, but he doesn’t say anything more. You know it’s just stalling. So you continue, moving your hands to hold his waist securely as you close the space between the two of you, placing gentle, open-mouthed kisses on his stomach.

You can tell from the shaky exhales and the single fuck that you both know he’s lost already. You don’t need to do much more, but you’re having a good time. You move your lips over his skin, covering every inch of his stomach with a wet kiss. 

To your surprise (and pleasure), you feel Nicholas’s hand slide into the back of your hair, his fingers curling to hold you there, to keep you doing what you’re doing. The unexpected move makes you freeze for just a moment, your attention momentarily drifting to a stirring in your stomach. You’ve got to finish up. You are not supposed to be the one turned on by this.

Eager to put an end to this before it gets out of control, you set up for your final move. Your lips kiss down the soft happy trail guiding you to his jeans. You don’t have to see Nicholas to know he’s watching with bated breath, secretly hoping you’re going to properly finish him off. 

Alas, that would be against the rules.

Taking advantage of his hope, you move your lips just over the waistband of his jeans, collecting the button in your mouth. You pull just slightly with your teeth and then the worst thing imaginable happens: Nicholas moans.

Oh no. Now the sensation in your stomach is wafting lower, taking up residence between your plush thighs.

You let the button snap free of your teeth and pull back slightly. You internally recenter yourself as best as you can, taking notice of the fact that Nicholas’s jeans aren’t hiding his obvious arousal. Seeing your success lets you forget your own growing arousal momentarily, a proud smirk on your lips as you look back up to Nicholas. “Well, would you look at that?”

Groaning when he realizes you’re really going to stop here, Nicholas rolls his eyes and grabs a pillow, placing it over his lap. “Oh, fuck off. Any of the guys in here would have responded the same.”

The room erupts with snickers. Not sure where to sit now that Euijoo is in your spot, you move up to sit next to Nicholas on the couch. He’s mindlessly playing with the rings on his fingers, trying to distract himself from his own urges. You almost feel bad until you remember how smug he was.

Everyone tries to steer the night back into a less tense direction for the next few minutes, but it’s not working for Nicholas.

“I think I’m gonna head out.” He says suddenly. “Thanks to all of you, I now have a problem to take care of.” Assuring everyone that he’s not upset, he playfully throws the pillow he was holding at Euijoo and smiles the way he always does. He turns to look at you, equally playful. “Thanks, y/n. You’re truly evil.”

You watch as he stands up, tucking his phone into his pocket and grabbing his keys from the table. He says his goodbyes and then he’s gone. Just like that.

Or so you think.

Only moments after the front door closes behind him, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out only to find a message from Nicholas.

Meet me at my place in 20.

Oh. Oh.

You look up, relieved to see none of the guys are paying attention to you, too busy staring at K’s phone screen like you had been doing earlier. It’s a perfect out, you realize.

“Well…” You start, waiting for them to look at you so you know you have their attention for the small act you’re about to put on for them. “I think I should get going too. You guys are entertaining yourselves and I think I need to wash my mouth out with soap after what you made me do.”

K laughs. Fuma and Euijoo nod their understanding, wincing as if they were the ones that were touching Nicholas like that. No one protests.

-

As you step out of the uber outside Nicholas’s apartment, reality finally settles in.

What am I doing here? Why did I just do what Nicholas told me to do without thinking about it? Why did I make up an excuse to come here? Why am I not changing my mind? Why are my feet already making their way to his door? Why am I knocking?

Nicholas opens the door and only then do you realize how fast your heart is beating.

He looks exactly the same as he did before but you’re not seeing him the same right now. Without a word, he steps to the side, inviting you in. He seems to be pretty sure that you’ll do so, but can you blame him? You just came to his apartment without so much as a question. You step inside, feeling the light of his apartment dim as he closes the door behind you.

You’re just standing there now. You feel and must look awkward, but you’re not sure what to do. You have an idea of why he might’ve invited you, but you don’t want to assume and look like a fool in front of him. So you just stand. Waiting.

You glance down when you feel Nicholas’s hand capture yours in his, gently pulling you to him as he leans against the wall perpendicular to his front door. You’re pressed to his chest–hands resting there–and your eyes are locked on each other’s. He lets go of your hand, letting his hands take up residence around your waist instead. His hands feel secure on your lower back.

Everything is way too quiet for how bizarre this is.

“So did you have fun?” It’s like he could sense your objection to the silence.

“I…” You swallow, not quite sure how to answer. “Yeah.”

A small smirk on his lips, a peek of pretty teeth. “Yeah?” His tongue glides over his bottom lip, one of his hands playing with the hem of your shirt at the back. He never takes his eyes from you. “So then we should keep having fun, right?”

You narrow your eyes, partly to disguise your intrigue. “That’s what you called me here for? It was a dare, Nicholas. I didn’t come here to fuck you.”

“I didn’t call you here to fuck you. I just thought we could maybe…” His eyes fall to your lips, his smirk widening. He glances back up to your eyes, briefly searching for a hint of opposition and finds none. He drops his head slightly, pressing his lips to your jaw, kissing across it until he’s in perfect proximity to your ear. “I thought maybe we could make out a little. What do you think?”

You don’t think. You can’t. All you can do is feel the burn from his lips and imagine that feeling everywhere else. Your eyes close briefly as you try to find some semblance of self-control. Nicholas must notice because he allows himself a soft chuckle before taking hold of your chin. Your eyes open again and he’s looking down his nose at you. “If you don’t tell me you’re not interested, I’m going to kiss you.”

You can’t even pretend to yourself that you don’t want him to kiss you, but you’re too stubborn to admit you want it. So you keep quiet, swallowing the remnants of the resistance you never had to begin with. As promised, Nicholas leans in, hand still holding your chin in place for him, and presses his lips to yours.

It starts out light, lips barely moving against each other, afraid to do more than they’re supposed to. Nicholas’s free palm presses flat against your back, pressing you even closer to him, and your mouth opens in surprise. Nicholas takes this as an opportunity to test the waters, licking into your mouth, slowly, carefully, pleased when you moan in response. He drops your chin, his hand sliding into your hair instead as he pushes the gentle kiss into a heated meeting of lips and tongues, his other hand sliding down the back of your jeans, palming the flesh covered by flimsy panties.

Everything is escalating quickly all of a sudden, but it doesn’t feel like that. It feels good.

You let your body fall against Nicholas’s, trusting him to keep you on your feet. One arm moves around his neck, the other hand feeling the skin beneath his shirt. The skin your lips were on not so long ago. You feel the muscles there tense beneath your fingers, his mouth punctuating the effect of your touch by taking your lip between his teeth. He bites hard enough to warn you, but not enough to hurt. You’re not deterred.

Your heads are tilting this way and that, mouths opening and breaths taking on weight as you kiss each other like you’ve been dreaming about it. It’s messy and desperate. He’s trying to pull you impossibly closer and you’re trying to memorize the feeling of his skin. You don’t miss the way his hands tighten in your hair and squeeze your ass each time he pulls a moan from you. You don’t miss the way he’s straining against his jeans, grinding yourself against him, pleased yourself when he groans into your mouth.

He pulls back, shaking his head to clear it, his hands freezing where they are before dropping to his sides. “We should stop.”

Your head is still spinning. You’re still reeling. “I–why?”

Nicholas leans his head back against the wall and looks at you, panting. “Because we’re getting to a point of no return.” He pauses, exhales heavily. “And I want to respect your boundaries.”

No.

You’re panting too, looking at him, searching his eyes. “What if I changed my mind?”

He cocks his head, unsure if he believes you. “You better not be playing with me right now, y/n.”

“I’m not.”

Famous last words.

Nicholas scoops you into his arms, carrying you to his bedroom. His lips are on yours the entire way, not giving either of you a second to think yourselves out of this. He carefully lays you down, hovering over you as he follows. His hands are all over you now–ghosting, groping, gliding. You’re pulling at his shirt and he’s all too happy to pull it off for you, only needing one hand to do so. He tosses it away before his hands focus on yours, sliding it up your body so he can kiss your stomach, his fingers working the fasteners of your jeans.

You use the moment to try and catch your breath, your back arching into every kiss Nicholas places around your navel. So fucking pretty, you hear him mumble more to himself than to you. You sigh dreamily, pushing your hand back through your hair as Nicholas lifts your hips to pull your jeans off. He kisses up the insides of your legs starting from your feet until he’s reached his target–your wet, panty-clad cunt. He presses a kiss to the center before peeling them away, smirking as he listens to you whimper for more contact.

His mouth finds your now-exposed sex like a starved man, tongue swirling around your clit and dipping down through your folds to gather your arousal, to taste it. He hums his satisfaction, eyes closing as he lets himself enjoy feasting on you. You’d swear you’ve never felt anything like it. Your hand grabs at his hair, pulling for some sense of grounding, and he groans, the vibrations only adding to your pleasure.

Nicholas takes your clit into his mouth and sucks, allowing his eyes to open and look up, wanting to see the way your body shakes in response. You do just that, moaning louder than you anticipate, and Nicholas eats it up. He doesn’t want to make you cum too quickly so he releases your clit, letting only his fingers glide through your slick. “You’re so wet, y/n,” he notes with a smirk. Just an observation, he’d say if you were to challenge him.

“Just take your fucking pants off,” you quip with a smirk of your own.

“Yes ma’am.” He’s grinning now, one hand pumping two fingers into your cunt while the other undresses his lower half.

His fingers feel good. His rings are adding to the stretch and the cold metal makes you shiver. “Fuck,” you sigh, sure you’re in a wet dream. Nicholas chuckles lowly before removing his fingers, much to your dismay. He moves back up your body, letting you watch as he cleans your arousal from his fingers with his mouth. You watch in awe, feeling new waves of it pooling between your thighs. He winks when he finishes, his face hovering just above yours, his hand gripping the side of your neck.

“Last chance to tell me to fuck off.” You can sense his hand stroking his cock between your bodies, waiting only for your go ahead. The cocksure look on his face says he knows you won’t be doing that.

You roll your eyes, both annoyed and fond. “Don’t make me change my mind again.”

Nicholas grins, lowering his mouth back to yours. He’s more nibbling and tugging than kissing this time, his hand guiding his throbbing cock inside you. You both hiss at the initial stretch and resistance, both pairs of eyelids fluttering from the relief. He pushes inside you slowly, making sure not to cause you any discomfort while he bottoms out. “Fuck, you feel so good.” The rasp in his voice is enough to make you clench around him and he hisses again in response.

You tilt your head back as Nicholas’s hand travels up the side of your neck, taking hold of the side of your face as he starts to move, thrusting into you at a pace you both can adjust to well. He keeps your face turned to his with his grip and even though it makes everything feel more intimate than maybe it should, it’s also really fucking hot. “Feels good, baby?” He asks, his eyes boring into yours, his hips slowly picking up their pace. You nod because yeah. It feels so fucking good. Too good, maybe.

You like the feeling of Nicholas keeping you in place the way he wants you. You like the way he’s constantly kissing you as he fucks you, groaning against your lips when he thrusts into you particularly hard, grinning when you moan his name. You like the sight of his hair dripping with sweat and his thick silver chain dangling above you. You like the way he pays so much attention to you, especially when he starts fucking into you at a relentless pace that neither of you will be able to withstand long. You like the way he asks you if it feels good, if you want more, if you’re going to cum for him when he feels you quivering beneath him.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum too.” His voice is so low now that you almost can’t hear him properly. He finally looks away from you, eyes trained on your lower halves. His mouth is open as he puts all of his concentration into hitting just the right spot inside of you, sucking air through his teeth as he staves off his own orgasm until he can pull one out of you. “Come on, baby, cum for me. Let me feel you.”

But you don’t need to be told. He’s hitting that sweet spot that makes you see stars, your head pressing back into the mattress under you and your hands clutching at his arms. The moan that accompanies your orgasm is lewd, echoing your gratefulness for release. You twitch as he fucks you through it, equally grateful for your orgasm so he no longer has to postpone his own. His eyes squeeze shut as he releases inside of you and he’s never looked prettier–jaw tense but open, brows furrowed, skin gleaming with sweat. The strangled moan is on loop inside your head, music to your ears.

As Nicholas comes down from his high, he opens his eyes once again, smiling weakly but happily at your fucked out face. He carefully pulls out of you and gathers you in his arms, rolling the two of you over so you’re laying on his chest. His chest is heaving beneath your head, his arm securely around your lower back. Again, you feel like this is maybe a little bit more intimate than it should be, but it still doesn’t feel that way. It just feels comfortable with Nicholas.

You stay silent for a few minutes, both of you catching your breath and recovering. As your brain comes back to you, you have a question.

“Nicholas?” “Yeah, baby?”

You ignore the ‘baby.’ You’ll correct him later. “When we were playing the game earlier, were you imagining what it would be like if I gave you head?”

He laughs. He wasn’t expecting that to be the question right now. “Uh…yeah.”

You laugh now. “So…why was I the one that got head then?”

Nicholas thinks. He thinks some more. “...Ladies first?”

You both laugh this time. He’s implying there will be a next time, you think to yourself. You don’t correct him. You’ll do that later too.

[emeritusemeritus]

Hi love! Could I request a Fred Weasley x Sirius Black's daughter? Like low key goth, full of attitude, and overly confident reader, maybe they're in a meeting for the order and she's giving full attitude or something?? I just need more confident/bitchy reader bro T-T I'm tired of all the 'not like other girls' and shy readers like brother I speak my mind. anywho I love you and you're writing your amazing <3

Hello dear Anon! I hope it’s okay that I tweaked this just a little because I’ve been reading OOTP and it’s a crime that this scene wasn’t included because Fred vs Sirius?! I’d initially planned something much different but ended up 4k words deep here 😂 I love writing a fiery reader and would love to do more of this OC. Hope you enjoy! 🖤

Warnings: mentions of injury, Arthur’s attack, general unrest, drinking, brief mention of potential alcohol addiction, sadness and anger. Fred has big emotions. Mentions of Umbitch. Brief nod to the reader potentially being a seer? Secret relationship that gets revealed.

Word count: 4k words (I got sucked in)

The eye of the snake.

"But professor," you protested weakly, actually considering the implications of your actions for once.

"I hardly think now is the time for propriety Miss Black," Professor McGonagall says as she ushers you through the common room and up the stairs towards the boys dormitories, whilst she heads towards the girls to retrieve Ginny. An odd night all around, you thought.

With shaking hands you held your illuminated wand out in front of you as a beacon, though you hardly needed a guide having made this walk so many times before, though never this quickly and without watching out for every creaking floorboard. You reached out for the door handle and slid it open, trying to stay quiet as to not disturb Lee. George was snoring as usual, surprisingly in rhythm with Lee's slight nose whistle which briefly made you ponder how the hell Fred was able to sleep through this crescendo of noise.

You creep towards Fred's bed first, knowing that time was of the essence and gave him a quick shake on his shoulder whilst whispering his name. You felt almost guilty for waking him, seeing him so peaceful in his sleep, knowing that Dumbledore's immediately summoning of yourself and the Weasley children was an ominous and foreboding sign. He looked so handsome, so relaxed and for the briefest of moments you forgot your assignment, wanting nothing more than to just climb in and cuddle up to him, feeling his warmth and softness.

You'd felt it all night, sleep evading you and your eventual dreams disturbed, the sense of something bad occurring pulling at the edge of your mind like a summoning charm. You'd felt the unease, the disquiet all night but couldn't sense anything beyond that, with no details making theirselves known, no visions of what lay ahead beyond the general sense of impending doom.

"Freddie!" You say a little louder, giving him a harder shake, watching as he stirs and eventually opens his eyes, immediately squinting at the light your wand is emitting. "Get up, it's important." You hoped that your blunt tone was enough to drag him out of his slumber and shuffled off towards George's bed where to attempted to wake him too.

"George," you say, giving him a harsh nudge on his shoulder, knowing that he'd be sleeping much deeper than Fred ever did. "George wake up!"

He groans, throwing his arm over his face but you don't pay him any mind, reaching for his dressing gown on the chair beside him and throwing it directly at his face.

"What's happening?" Fred groans, voice deep and thick with sleep.

"Dumbledore's called for us, McGonagall's getting Ginny, somethings happened."

He was out of bed in a flash, recognising your tone of voice enough to know that you were far from joking. George took a bit more corralling but he was quickly roused as you walked out of their dorm, followed closely by both twins who were every inch as disheveled physically as you felt internally. You met Ginny and Professor McGonagall at the top of the stairs and walked quickly and silently behind her, allowing Ginny to walk ahead with her brothers.

"There's been an... incident," McGonagall says, her words carefully considered to give little away of the situation, another ominous sign. "Your father has been injured, though we don't know how serious it is at this time. Professor Dumbledore is doing all he can with Potter's guidance."

"Harry? What's he got to do with this?" Ginny asks quickly, naturally hanging on every word that the professor said. She looked frightened and you could hardly blame her, considering the news. The twins remained uncharacteristically quiet as you walked quickly through the corridors until you were outside the headmasters office.

"Fizzing whizbee."

McGonagall turns to Ginny, casting a glance to the rest of you out of curtesy as the spiralling staircase presents itself at the correct password.

"It appears Mr Potter saw the attack take place."

"We've located your father and he's been taken to St Mungo's Hospital for maladies and Injuries. I'll be sending you all to Sirius' house, it's much more convenient than the Burrow. You'll be meeting your mother there," Dumbledore explains. At the mention of your father, your eyes shoot up to Dumbledore and it suddenly becomes clear why you have been sent for in addition to the Weasley family. Your dad, the safe house, the order of the Phoenix. Arthur must have been injured during Order business.

"How are we going?" Fred asks, his voice sounding as sullen as his face. He sounds unnerved, shaken, and you fight the natural instinct to reach for his hand. "Floo powder?"

"No." Dumbledore says with a slightly shake of his head, "the Floo Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey,"

He indicates to an old kettle lying innocently on his desk, the inanimate object having missed your notice upon entering. "We are waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back... I want to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you on your way."

His gaze slips to you upon mention of your great-great-great grandfather but you avert your eyes, hardly knowing your place in that moment. Usually you had no trouble expressing your opinion, regardless of the situation, but right now you felt the best thing was to stay quiet and offer a supportive presence.

You thought of your own father, the both of you having spent so long forced apart and of his current predicament, essentially forced under house arrest by the Order. It was safer that way, but your heart still ached for how lonely he would be. You felt conflicted and impossibly guilty at the slight excitement you felt at seeing your dad again in respect of what your boyfriend and the others would be feeling at their own father's fate. Mr Weasley had been a surrogate dad to you whilst your own father was locked away and had been a constant presence in your life, making you feel even guiltier for the hopeful feeling you had about your own dad.

Your eyes suddenly whip around to the flash of a flame from the centre of the office, watching as a golden feather emerges from the combustion, your eyes trailing it downwards as it floats right to the floor.

'"Fawkes's warning," Dumbledore half-explains, eyes flickering between the golden feather and then towards McGonagall.

"Professor Umbridge must know you're out of your beds. Minerva, go and head her off - tell her any story."

Professor McGonagall was gone within seconds, her messy braid whipping behind her as she exits the office in a flash.

"He says he'll be delighted," an all too familiar voice suddenly says in a grumbling, bored voice. Your eyes trail up to the portrait of your ancestor, the Slytherin banner proudly waving behind him, his face as sour as you remember.

"My great-great-grandson has always had an odd taste in house-guests," he adds with a particular distaste before his eyes meet yours for only a moment, recognising instantly who you are. "As does his daughter."

"What a lovely reunion," you snark, fighting back a roll of your eyes as the familiar anger simmers deep in your gut at his choice of words, not even bothering to conceal the archaic values of your ancestors that belong in the past with them.

"You have all used a Portkey before?" asks Dumbledore, waiting for confirmation from you all as you huddle around the old black teapot, each of you nervous for different reasons of what will be waiting for you on the other side.

"Good. On the count of three then... one... two..."

"Back again, the blood-traitor brats. Is it true their father's dying?" You barely had time to register the creaky voice, never mind distinguish his words as you recovered from the nausea of travelling by portkey. Your stomach still felt tingly, the pulling sensation behind your navel and the wind ringing past your ears as you trapsed through space and time was never a comfortable feeling, having ended up in your dad's gloomy kitchen only moments later.

"Mistress Black returns with her blood traitor friends." You're about to curse into the horrible little elf when you hear a second voice shout loudly from the sidelines, rendering you speechless.

'OUT!'

Fred from beside you helps you up, knowing even in his time of need that Portkey travel did not agree with you and gives you a little nudge towards where your dad leans on the doorframe awaiting your arrival.

"Dad!" You scrambled, running off to hug your father who welcomed you with open arms, chuckling heartily as you barged into him with a slam. You felt awful doing this in front of the Weasley children but you'd allow this for yourself now and apologise later. You looked over your dads shoulder through the wild brown ringlets of his hair and saw that a single place had been set at the table, with a single lit candle and the remains of a solitary supper that made your heart clench. He smelt like stale drink, your stomach roiling nervously at the thought. Was that how he was occupying himself?

You suddenly pulled away, knowing that it wasn't the right time for a long, drawn out reunion and stepped back in line, in between Fred and George.

"What's going on?" He asks, turning to look upon the Weasley siblings. "Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured —"

"Ask Harry," says Fred, particularly bluntly, no doubt frustrated that he wasn't getting a solid answer. You watch as your dad turns to Harry, pulling him into a warm embrace, trying to get him to open up.

"Yeah, I want to hear this for myself," adds George.

"It was, I had a - a kind of - vision," he stutters, beginning to explain the vision in great detail. Throughout the retelling, you have to stop yourself for reaching out for Fred's hand multiple times, knowing that you can't in front of everyone.

"Is Mum here?" Fred asks, turning to your dad once Harry had explained everything. You watch as George's face fills with dread, apparently having not realised up to now that she wasn't present amongst you.

"She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet," explains your dad. "The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledores letting Molly know now."

"We've got to go to St Mungo's," says Ginny with a sense of urgency. You watch as she pauses, looking around all of you who are still dressed in your nightwear having been ripped from your beds not an hour before. 'Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything? Y/n?"

"Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St Mungo's!" Your dad says suddenly, eyes ablaze as if he's personally affronted by the suggestion. Your mouth opens immediately to protest but Fred manages to find the words first, his face stern.

"Course we can go to St Mungo's if we want, he's our dad!'" You can see how physically tense he's gotten, not taking very well to being told no by someone he didn't see as an authoritative figure, even if it was his girlfriend's dad.

"And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?"

"What does that matter?" Adds George hotly, clearly thinking along the same lines as Fred, outraged at your dad's block.

"It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!" Your dad replies angrily. "Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?"

You reach out suddenly for Fred's hand, trying to ground him. The physical contact seems to pull him back to earth, preventing him from saying something he'd inevitably regret... or maybe not knowing Fred.

Ginny instead tries to offer alternatives in a much more grounded way, "Somebody else could have told us... we could have heard it somewhere other than Harry."

"Like who?" Your dad says impatiently with a sigh. "Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's-"

"We don't care about the dumb Order!'" Fred shouts, breaking away from your grip, as if it was holding him back. You're suddenly acutely aware that you are stuck in this awkward position, trapped between your dad and your secret boyfriend, hardly able to say anything to diffuse the situation. Your mouth physically hurts as you bite the inside of your cheek, finding it near impossible to keep out of it.

"It's our dad dying we're talking about!" George yells, mere seconds later.

"Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!" Your dad replies with as much force as he was receiving, "This is how it is - this is why you're not in the Order - you don't understand - there are things worth dying for!'

You're a second away from physically pulling Fred away, knowing that whatever the next words would be that came out of his mouth, they'd be harsh and venom-filled.

"Easy for you to say, stuck here!' bellows Fred. "I don't see you risking your neck!"

You watch in horror as your dad pales, the look in his eyes darkening and you know in that moment that he'd quite like to hit Fred, something you would not be allowing. You'd been quiet too long, allowed them both to get out their frustrations but you'd had enough of that. You wouldn't choose sides, wouldn't force either of them to comply or get along but for your sake you hoped they could at least be cordial. You'd take the brunt of their frustrations if you had to, just to diffuse the situation.

"Right that's enough," you say, finding the words escaping you before you could really think about what you're saying. "Dad get the kettle on," you say with a nod of your head, a small and very false smile playing on your lips. You turn to the twins, names Fred who looks positively mutinous, trying a much softer approach on them. You know if you reach for Fred right now he'll reject you and you couldn't deal with that so you fold your arms over your chest, looking up towards the towering twins.

"We need to wait for your mum, we'll all set up in the lounge to wait or Gin you can have my bedroom if you want," you offer, casting a glance at the youngest Weasley who looks sullen, shaking her head slightly, as you expected. "Just wait to hear from your mum and then we'll work out our next move okay?"

Fred doesn't relent as easy as George who nods after a few moments in understanding. Instead, Fred is still shooting daggers at your dad over your shoulder and you sigh, knowing he's stubborn as a mule. A few tense moments pass and you watch as his eyes suddenly flicker to yours and soften considerably before he nods in agreement.

"No milk," your dad says suddenly from behind, a look on his face somewhere between disgust and shame.

"Right, butterbeer it is then," you say, trying to redeem the situation, "it's in my bedroom." You shoot a look to your dad, knowing you can't do magic here and you were hardly ready to leave Fred and your dad alone again.

"Accio Butterbeer!" Your dad says, taking the lead. Immediately the bottles of butterbeer float across the room and your dad placed them into the table as you reach and distribute the drinks.

You all take your seats in the lounge surrounding the fire that had dwindled slightly since your arrival but with a single flick of his wand, your dad refreshes it.

Ginny takes the old armchair closest to the fire and curls herself up within it.

Harry and Ron take the two seater, the most uncomfortable seat you'd ever had the displeasure of experiencing and you watch with a barely concealed grin as Ron's face immediately conveys his regret as he takes a seat upon the torture device. You reach for a cushion and throw it towards him; hitting him square in the face but for once he doesn't care but instead smiles thankfully for the cushion, not that it would do much. George throws himself down into the sofa closest to Ginny's chair and Fred follows not far behind. You stay standing, feeling suddenly uncomfortable at intruding and begin to back away from the room until the fire suddenly crackles dangerously. There's a burst of light and you frown, hearing the round of gasps as a scroll of parchment flies out, accompanied by a familiar feather.

"Fawkes!" Your dad says, quickly marching into the room at the sudden disturbance, snatching up the parchment and pulling it close to his face. "That's not Dumbledore's writing - it must be a message from your mother - here."

He thrusts the letter into George's hand, who had jumped up anxiously at the sudden intrusion. George then ripped it open and read aloud for everyone to hear.

"Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum."

There's a dead silence that follows Molly's communication, each of you thinking the same thing.

"Still alive..." George says slowly. "But that makes it sound..."

Fred pulls the parchment out of George's hands and read it for himself, then looks up at Harry for a moment, before he looks back to the parchment.

"You should all go to bed and deal with it properly in the morning," your dad suggests and before you can deal with the inevitable onslaught from the Weasley kids, you pull your dad away back into the kitchen, feeling the hot stare of Fred burning a hole in your back.

"They're worried about their dad," you say, keeping your voice down so that they wouldn't hear you. "We'll just hole up in the lounge for the night."

"Y/n," your dad sighs but for some reason his attempt to disagree with you seems to anger you instantly.

"What would you do? Just go to bed and pretend nothings wrong?"

"Well I didn't care very much for my father," your dad begins to snark, forcing you to roll your eyes.

"Right, so maybe just pretend you can imagine what they're going through and just accept that they're hurting and need each other right now."

Your dad's eyes widen a little at your outburst but you don't back down, "you don't have to host us, go to bed if that's what you're concerned about, or back to your drink."

"Y/n Black!" Your father shouts but you don't flinch, knowing that you'd simply touched a nerve.

"I care about every single one of them in there, is it not just enough that I want them not to hurt? I care about Arthur too! Can you simply not understand that some people might actually be horrified at the thought of their father dying?"

His eye twitches at your words and you can tell he's considering the possible hidden meanings behind your words.

"Perhaps you care a little more for one of them," he snarks, unable to hold himself back. You see red immediately, only to be fuelled by your dad's following words. "Seems that you've absorbed his anger."

"He's not angry he's terrified!" You can't help it, the volume of your voice raising to match his. "Anyone would be in their situation! I'm sorry we're such a burden to you but the second we hear from Molly we'll be at St Mungo's out of your way."

"I didn't mean."

"No you never do," you say, averting your eyes and turning your body to walk back to the lounge.

"Y/n," your dad says, his tone suddenly back to normal if not sounding a little bit regretful. You sigh, tired and on edge, wanting nothing more than to just sit with your boyfriend and friends.

"You're a good friend to them," he says, trying to find words for the situation. Your nod slowly, the anger fading now as exhaustion washes over you.

"They're all I've had for a long time," you say, trying to avoid the sensitive topic of his imprisonment. "You're right about caring for them, and Fred above most. You're just seeing him on a bad night," you pause. "You know him and George stole the Marauders map from Filch's office in our first year?”

You watch as your dad's eyes light up in surprise, apparently never having been told this particular story.

"If you gave him a chance, on any normal day, I'm certain you'd love him."

"Do you?" Your dad asks gently, big brown eyes imploring your own. You frown, casting a look to the closed door that stood between you and the lounge, as if you'd see Fred through it.

You nod, getting more assured with every gentle movement of your head.

"I should get back," you say quietly, immediately feeling regret at the raised voices, not having expected your reunion to go like this.

When you step into the lounge, it's obvious that they had heard everything, though they all attempt to divert their eyes and look away to avoid making it too obvious but fail miserably. Fred's hand beckons you over and he pulls you into his lap, your head immediately resting on his shoulder, ignoring the shocked looks from Ron at the outward affection.

"Don't say anything," you whisper, looking at the flames of the fire instead of his face.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Fred says gently, making you look towards his face, seeing his tired eyes and the tiny hint of a smile upon his face.

"You're comfy," you say, pressing your head into the curve of his shoulder and you can feel the movement of his little chuckle. Arthur stays at the forefront of your mind and you're certain that there's not a moment he's forgotten amongst his children as you look at them throughout the night.

At some point Fred falls asleep, his breathing evening out as his head lolls onto your shoulder with the new position. His hand is entwined with yours, acting like an anchor so he wouldn't float away with his spiralling thoughts, your legs resting over his much longer ones. George is asleep the other side of Fred, emitting quiet snores and jerking every now and then. Ginny doesn't sleep, you can see the reflection of the flames in her eyes as she stares blankly into nothing and you're unable to tell if Ron is asleep due to his head being in his hands, slumped over. You settle down, snuggling into Fred as the tiredness overtakes you and you hope that when you wake there will be better news.

You don't see or hear your dad step into the room an hour later, pausing as he looks upon his daughter cuddling up to who he assumes is her boyfriend. Instead of being angry or protective as he expected to feel, he feels a sense of calm as seeing her look peaceful in her sleep. He may not have had the best interaction with the Weasley boy but he knows Arthur and Molly, they seemed incapable of raising a bad one

[fvnalgirlcomplex]

PRETTY ISN’T PRETTY ✸ J. HUGHES

and it begins!! this is irl but also mostly social media au because my tumblr is/was acting up and deleted most of what i had written and.. i’m lazy so!!! reader is referred to as ‘you’ and their looks are talked about but i tried to avoid describing looks… however… reader doesn’t have blonde hair but listen like every nhl fic uses a blonde girl for the fc so. i think its justified!! but sorry to anyone blonde reading lol. i didn’t rlly know how to end this tbh but i hope it’s still good and i hope u like it!! remember that you are beautiful! any negative things said obviously aren’t true :)

warnings: light mention/implication of an eating disorder, insecurities, hate comments, reader gets picked up (lowkey manhandled a little bit), suggestive comments (2), unedited writing

masterlist, series masterlist

fc: olivia rodrigo ( oliviarodrigo on ig )

summary: dating jack wasn’t gonna be easy, you knew that. you just thought him traveling a lot was gonna be the hardest, not being picked apart by his fans.

bought a bunch of makeup,

tryna cover up my face

i started to skip lunch,

stopped eatin’ cake on birthdays

youruser

liked by lhughes and 56,890 others

youruser 22!! shout out to cole caulfield

view 182 comments…

colecaulfield thank you for the shout out. I really needed it.

youruser anything for a fan

user19 she’s so cocky omg

yourfriend the cake was so good! you should’ve had some :(

youruser the cake wasn’t very big and i don’t really like cake that much anyways lol glad you liked it though!!

jackhughes ❤️

liked by youruser

user373 at least she chose a blurry pic so we don’t have to see her face lmaoo

jackhughes

liked by trevorzegras and 120,293 others

jackhughes birthday girl 🎂

view 367 comments…

_quinnhughes haps

youruser damn. not even a full sentence 😔

user14 even his brother doesn’t like her lmao 💀

user298 i hope she knows she’s public enemy #1

user63 bro could do sm better

trevorzegras big! 22! 2️⃣2️⃣

user86 the way she looks at him though 🥹

user7 no..

user329 why are you so miserable

user738 he did her so dirty with the second picture 😭 makeup can only do so much but somehow she looks even worse than i imagined with no makeup

“I didn’t know it was such a big deal—”

“It shouldn’t have to be a big deal, Jack! I asked you not to post it, I don’t understand why you don’t listen!”

Maybe you were overreacting. Maybe you were taking your insecurities out on Jack when it really wasn’t his fault. But, it’s hard to stay calm when you’ve started to hate what you see everytime you look in the mirror, or someone takes a picture of you and that’s when you have makeup on. Words couldn’t describe how gross you feel without makeup on.

“I think you look gorgeous. I don’t know what the issue is.” Jack responded, too nonchalantly for your liking.

“The issue is that I don’t think I look gorgeous so I don’t want it out in the world for all your fans to see.” Jack sighed at your response. He knew what this was about but to him, you the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. He just couldn’t grasp how someone like you could be insecure.

“Y/n…” He said softly, grabbing the sides of your face. The mood in the room had quickly changed from tense to sad as soon as the word fans was mentioned. “You’re stunning. I know you don’t believe me but, you really are. All those comments are from a bunch of teenage girls who are jealous. I know it’s hard to block out but you just have to try ‘cause I wanna show everyone how pretty my girl is, okay?” Jack finished, trying to cheer you up. It didn’t really work to be honest but still, through glass eyes, you looked up at him and nodded before he brought you into a comforting hug.

You wanted to believe him, you really did. But it wasn’t just teen fan girls. It was also grown men. Men your boyfriends age who thought you were just as hideous. They couldn’t have been doing it for the same reasons as the fan girls. They had to have just been being honest, right?

‘cause there’s always somethin’ missin’

there’s always somethin’ in the mirror

that i think looks wrong

when pretty isn’t pretty enough,

what do you do?

You loved spending time with Jack. And you also loved getting to spend time with the people he cared about. But the pressure of looking good before going knowing that pictures would be taken, with or without you knowing, made you want to puke.

You started planning out your outfits far in advance, what shoes, how you’d do you hair, your makeup. Everything. You told yourself over and over again that the outfit is cute. You asked Jack about it and he always reassured you that you would look beautiful in anything and the friends you’d ask say the same thing.

But that still wasn’t enough to stop your brain from making you think everything was wrong. No matter you were wearing, when you looked in the mirror it just looked… wrong. Like something was missing.

“Babe?” Your boyfriends voice came softly through the bedroom door. Jack had invited you to the Devils Halloween Party this year which would be your first New Jersey Devils event. Jack and Luke were wearing matching spider-man costumes with Nico and Dawson who were currently at the brothers apartment. “You ready?” He asked you as he poked his head into the bedroom before fully stepping in, closing the door behind him.

“Yeah, I was just looking for my cat ears.” Lie. You were overanalyzing yourself like you always did before you went out but you knew if you told Jack that he’d feel bad and tell you that you didn’t have to go if you weren’t comfortable.

It wasn’t clear if Jack really believed your lie but he glanced around the room for the headband anyways before finding it on the edge of the bed next to you and placing them on your head for you.

Still sitting on the edge of the bed from when you were putting on your boots before you caught a look at yourself in the mirror, you looked up at Jack, who’s hands stayed on the side of your face after gently placing the headband on you.

Words weren’t exchanged as he looked at you, his thumbs tenderly moving over cheeks. He moved down to place a lovingly soft kiss on your forehead and then your lipstick covered lips.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered against your mouth. You almost believed him.

njdwag.updates

liked by jackhughes and 2,384 others

njdwag.updates y/n at the halloween party with a fellow wag. she went as a black cat 🐈‍⬛

view 103 comments…

theotherwag sweetest girl to ever exist 🩷

user273 jacks like 🥹

user33 is this a safe space?

user649 depends…

user33 i love yn. and i love yn and jack!! they’re so cute and it’s so obvious everyone that hates her is just jealous :/

user472 REAL!!! they claim to be fans of jack but hate to see him happy… like something isn’t adding up??

liked by 208 others

user634 wait jack went as spider-man and she went as a black cat?? she’s kinda funny for that

user710 jack probably didn’t want to outright match with her 💀

user845 her standing next to another wag.. this is so sad like jack!! wake up!!

and everybody’s keepin’ it up, so you think it’s you

i could change up my body and change up my face

i could try every lipstick in every shade

but i’d always feel the same

‘cause pretty isn’t pretty enough anyways

njdwags

liked by 1,266 others

njdwags y/n y/l/n at her colleges football game with friends!

view 103 comments…

user968 everytime there’s a picture of her standing next to someone it really highlights how ugly she is LMAO

user263 idk why people hate her sm she’s so pretty

user945 she’s even prettier in person! i met her at the game and she was so nice. it’s so sad to see all the hate she gets :(

liked by njdwags

user293 we have class together!! she’s literally so sweet and smart

user683 ugly ass

user78 she chose a college football game over her boyfriends hockey game…

user537 why does she always have her tongue out 💀

and i try to ignorе it, but it's everythin' i see

it’s on the poster on the wall, it's in like every magazine

it’s in my phone, it's in my head, it's in the boys i bring to bed

it’s all around, it's all the time, i don't know why i even try

It’s like you couldn’t stop yourself from reading comments on posts about you. You knew you should ignore but it seemed impossible to ignore at this point.

You knew the comments would be negative like they always were but you always had hope they would be nice for once. And there was nice ones sometimes! But most were so overwhelmingly negative, you couldn’t even focus on the positives.

And it wasn’t just comments either, no. Not anymore at least. Since, you’ve read the comments, it’s like all the negative has leaked out of your phone and into every aspect of your life.

It was when you visited your family over winter break, you had totally forgotten about the posters you had in past years of icons from your childhood. Icons who were so how all skinny or blonde or had stunning blue eyes or all three. The break was supposed to get you away from all that and yet, you still cried yourself to sleep that first night.

Every aspect of life also included you and your boyfriend. You knew before you and Jack had started dating, he was constantly liking other girls bikini pics on instagram. And even though he had stopped doing that, you’d still seen tweets from his fans in the past joking about how he was “always at the scene of the crime” with a screenshot of his like on a picture of the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. And while you tried to ignore it, you noticed of a pattern with all the girls. They looked a lot like the icons from your childhood. Nothing like you.

So now, late at night, when you were supposed to be having quiet and sweet moments with your boyfriend; your boyfriend that you didn’t get to see very often at that! You spent those moments thinking about those stupid likes on those stupid pictures of those stupidly beautiful girls.

And as for you, the comments had really gotten to your head. Even when you weren’t with Jack and you weren’t on your phone or in your childhood room. You still found someone to compare yourself to. It was like some kind of superpower.

and i bought all the clothes that they told me to buy

i chased some dumb ideal my entire life

and none of it matters and none of it ends

you just feel like shit all over again

Was this silly? It feel silly.

This didn’t feel like you but a change was needed.

Jack (and Luke) had been hanging out with the team all day and you had the day off. You had decided to spend the time alone shopping for clothes that you would’ve never worn before this past month and a box of blonde hair dye.

“We’re home!”

Luke’s voice rang through the apartment, snapping you out of your trance that you were in while staring out the box of hair dye taunting you on the bathroom counter.

“Y/n?” Now it was Jacks voice that made its way through the apartment.

“Bathroom!”

You could hear his footsteps come closer to the bathroom door before a knock on the door, hesitating before opening the door before him. He slipped in before locking the door behind him.

“I was gonna jump in the shower if he wanted to join me.” Jack told you, his hands sliding around your waist with his back to the door. Naturally, your hands slipped around to rest behind his neck, forgetting about the hair dye sitting on the counter.

“I think I’m gonna have to pass this time—”

“You’re gonna dye your hair?” Jack cut you off, his eyes focused behind you.

“Oh- Yeah, I just, um, wanted a change I guess.”

Jack didn’t say anything or take his eyes off of the box of hair dye. He didn’t buy it for a second but he just didn’t understand. How could you not see how beautiful you were. Jack had known the comments were bad, he just didn’t realize they were getting to you this badly. He looked back to you, who had a guilty look in your eyes. Jack sighed before moving you over to the counter, placing you next to the box.

“Baby, if you really want to dye your hair blonde, go for for it. But I don’t think you want to.” You couldn’t even look at him. You felt embarrassed that you’d been confronted about how out of hand these insecurities have gotten, even if it wasn’t really your fault. You felt like a child being scolded. “I know we’ve talked about this before but you really have to listen to me this time okay, babe?”

Jacks hand came up to your chin, gently pushing your head up to make eye contact with him.

“You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. I mean that. All those assholes just want to find someone to hate more than themselves and I’m sorry that dating me has made you a target for that. But blonde hair dye isn’t gonna make them stop. I’ll say something— I should’ve said something sooner but I’ll do it now. Just- Just don’t change for them because they won’t ever be happy. Pretty isn’t pretty enough for them, okay?”

You were crying now. Because you knew he was right and you were upset you had let them drive you crazy. You continued to cry as your boyfriends arm came around your frame. You uttered apologies, not quite sure for what, while his hand rubbed your back.

After a while, your tears stopped and Jack pulled away. “I love you. And I told you, if you really want to go blonde, go for it. I mean, you’ll look hot either way—”

“Jack!”

“Okay, okay. Blonde or no blonde.” He asked with a small smile on his face, holding up the box of hair dye.

“No blonde.”

Jacks smile grew as he threw the box into the trashcan. His hands slid down to your thighs, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“So… can we get that shower now?”

[not-freyja]

New Zelda Game!

Okay cool, cool cool cool cool, I am calm, I am so fucking calm. Looks like Nintendo is staying true to their word that Wild is not getting another game, so now the questions are, what Link is this, where are we in the Timeline, and what information about the game itself can we pick out of these crumbs?

Whose Zelda is it anyway?

So two options:

New boy.

Legend. It’s fucking Legend again sucks to suck bro

Case for new Link and Zelda:

Less messy for the Lore

That’s it, that is the only argument

Case for Leggy boy and Fable:

LA animation style! While it can be fun to bring back older styles of animation for nostalgia/artistic reasons, that seems like a poor choice for *LOZ* games, which are always on the edge of what a game can do. Moving “backwards,” so to speak, in any aspect, would be a disservice to the franchise. However, doing it to maintain consistency for a particular character, and to use the animation style to make sure the audience knows this is the same character from LA is a very simple but effective tactic.

The map! So that shot was so BOTW and so fun, but the view we got wasn’t just recognizable as “Hyrule,” is was, down to the relative heights on the mountain cliffs against each other, the map from ALTTP/ALBW. Nintendo has never repeated a map without it being the same Link. So! Checkmate motherfuckers.

The character designs. That… that was just Legend and Fable, come on. Look at the dress. Every Zelda has a slightly different costume design, and that was hers. Look at Link. Baby boy!

I want this. Let me have it.

Timeline positioning

Okay so if we assume that this is in fact Legend, the next question becomes, “When is it?” Leggy boy currently has 5 games that are canonically his. (Triforce Heroes could be a random other Link, so while we like to say 6 we can’t *prove it.*) So. Let’s break it down.

ALTTP: canonically his first game, can’t be before this one.

Oracles: canonically happen after ALTTP, and he is very much still a child in here.

LA: the game this one is artistically modeled after. Narratively this fits nicely right after Oracles, and in the canon timeline, fits between Oracles and ALBW, so I think a whole new game being crowbarred prior to this one would be… not great for the narrative.

ALBW: This is trickier. No canon time between LA and ALBW is given, it could be a week, it could be years. It is entirely possible that Echoes of Wisdom occurs prior to ALBW, which would make it a direct sequel to LA, which makes the art style make even more sense. It could also be after?

…hang on a fucking minute, lets get the fucking map.

Left, ALTTP. Right, ALBW

Basically the same map! Duh, it’s the same Hyrule. But. BUT. Bottom right, in the lake. Do you see that?!

ALTTP: no log bridge. ALBW: Log bridge. Now, let’s look at the pretty picture from the EOW trailer.

NO FUCKING LOG BRIDGE!

This is before ALBW. Therefore, the game order for The Hero of Legend is

ALTTP, OOS, OOA, LA, EOW, ALBW, TH(maybe)

*cue manic laughter*

Lore Implications

Ganon.

There being a Ganon at all actually has me pointing my finger at the Oracle games and screaming. The TL;DR in those is that there was a plot to resurrect Ganon, each game Twinrova gets closer, but Link stops them. Now, there were also supposed to be three of those games, which means that it is entirely possible that the third unseen Oracle plot—please Nintendo let Link and Farore hang out, I am on my knees barking like a dog—could have resulted in his resurrection. This is the only explanation I have that doesn’t break the Lore or involve Time Shenanigans.

Also, Link does KO the bitch in that opening scene in the trailer. His presence is either just that—a set-up plot point—or him and Link are currently duking it out in the hole. Fun!

Link and Zelda

Now this game is going to put their relationship in the front in the “I have to save them because I love them” way that we usually see from Link’s POV.

Getting it from Zelda’s POV is going to be very interesting. We might be getting a look into her head, into her feelings and thoughts about the whole ordeal of the Legend itself. I hope so. But also, this isn’t just Link and Zelda, this is *Fable and Legend* specifically. The two that were meant to be be siblings but the dialogue that established them as such was cut from the final version of ALTTP. So. This game has the possibility to do three things

Canonize the Prince Legend thing, like they were going to do in the nineties.

Not address the topic at all, leave it nebulous.

Zelink.

None of these are bad choices, but option two is definitely the safest. Both options one and three will cause an uproar from part of the fan base. I can already see the ship wars. Please don’t do this people. Please.

The Holes 🕳️

What are they? Where did they come from? Ganon’s Trident Where do they go? No actually, where do they go? The Dark World (doesn’t make sense in the Lore)? Lorule (that would be a choice)? The Twilight Realm (I am convinced that Lorule and the Twilight Realm are the same place actually and you cannot change my mind)? Some new never seen before parallel dimension? A non-place, like a gap between realities (sexiest option)? I have no idea!

Fun!

That fucking “Fairy”

Tri? Don’t trust it. Will not trust it. Never trust that a companion in a LOZ game is what they first appear to be. Who does Nintendo take me for? A fucking amateur?!

Anyway, I am about 40% convinced that’s Link. I have evidence, but it is circumstantial.

I AM HANDLING THIS NORMALLY.

[centrally-unplanned]

Alright, last Current Events Drama post, is not a super valuable activity after all. I have seen a lot of Discourse that goes like "I may oppose these efforts but man the PR strategy of this Musk thing is pretty genius, they have a whole generation of people thinking USAID was funding the Liberal Media now". And they certainly aren't without agency, I agree there is an intentional PR strategy going on. In particular it is not just the creation of narrative, but the creation of momentum - every day is a new discovery, a new victory, a sense of progress.

But this isn't really that hard when your supporters are just really stupid? Like you can make shit up for these people! They don't care, they don't have that instinct that goes "okay hold up I'm going to need to see some sources here". The current Admin didn't make that happen, that is a deep, structural change around the internet flattening hierarchies and all that shit. When you know your audience wants results and also you can just invent results out of thin air then, idk, is this that hard? How could you not deliver that?

It is funny because the actual playbook here isn't even their invention, it is the same as the 2010's "Woke Boom". That entire model was that deep, slow, technical solutions to structural inequalities achieved via grinding electoral politics is boring. That shit is for fucking losers. I am not gonna have a role in that all! So instead we will achieve social change via randomly harassing my progressive coworkers for their black comedy tweets about AIDS until they get fired and have a nervous breakdown. Obviously - just like with the current right, don't be tricked! - there was another side of this movement that was much more serious, a huge side actually (we are just focusing right now). But for so many that serious side was window dressing, the real mush was that you got to feel like you were a part of something, doing something, and at a certain point they started running the show. This playbook being reversed really isn't that impressive (and also, in a sense, inevitable)

I will give the Social Justice aggros though that they had some standards - passing around photoshopped tweets was uncommon. Most of them did actually believe in this model for change (and so invented insane ideologies to justify it, but w/e). That isn't really as true on the right - I should partially walk back my statement above, a lot of these people aren't that gullible? They are just apathetic. So many people retweeting stuff about how The Deep State funnels millions to Politico don't really even care, for them it is a game. It is funny to own the libs. They laugh off your attempts at calling them out for accuracy - you care about that? What a cuck you are.

Which makes it particularly sad when you see the earnest ones, the ones writing essays about the implications of what USAID propping up the New York Times means for our political future. Nothing worse than being a true believer in a church where not only the leaders but also your fellow congregants know it is bullshit.

It reminds me of the Gamestop Meme Stock Crash and its slow, agonizing burn (a not unrelated event!). A bunch of people on the rise of the stock created the idea that buying Gamestop could Stick It To The Man, you could short squeeze the hedge funds, diamond-hands-hold that yield, bring Wall St to its knees - to the moon, baby. And some people bought it! And then the wheel turned, the crash happened, and most of the people posting those memes sold their stock and dipped so fast they had disappeared from the subreddits before they could even begin to say "bro, you thought I was serious?". Leaving a stalwart few holding the bag, spinning epicycles of conspiracy theories to justify why they had it to begin with. Which happens on autopilot a this point. You don't really need any PR strategy to make this happen.

[milksnake-tea]

Hi hi hii!

May I have 2, 4, and 7 with Aventurine for the ask game? Have a nice day!

This man has a strong chokehold on me-

- 🪽

nah bro i totally get you that damn blonde im telling you .... him and his little >:3 are permanently etched into my brain .... THANKS FOR THE ASK !!! <3

2. What do you think their love language is?

My first thought was initially words of affirmation or acts of service, but now that I'm thinking about it, I think Aventurine would be a sucker for physical touch. The thing is, I personally believe that Aventurine is heavily touched starved, and a huge part of it is self-inflicted. There have been many times where he wanted to hold your hand, or lean onto your shoulder, or just have his hair played with, but he holds himself back because 1.) it's unprofessional and 2.) does he really want to deal with the implications of his actions? Even with friends (or the closest things he has to friends), he wants to be physically close to them, but he doesn't let himself be. The first time you held his hand, he stiffened like a block of wood. When you hugged him, and held him in his arms, he didn't know how to react - but it wasn't long until he closed his eyes and let himself slump against you.

4. What's an unpopular opinion you have?

i cant believe i have to say this BUT HE IS NOT A WHORE !!!!! Can he be clingy? Yes !! Can he be intentionally irritating and annoying? Yes !!! Can he come across as flirty? ABSOLUTELY. But what he isn't is someone who gives himself away at the drop of a hat. Intimacy and companionship, whether platonic or romantic, is something he desires, absolutely. But that doesn't mean he'll give it to just anyone. He has to respect you, he has to like you, he has to know you inside and out to ensure that you won't take advantage of his vulnerability.

I acknowledge that Aventurine often invites people to stab him in the back, but he does it with the prior knowledge that they'd likely do it, so he isn't surprised about it. But when it comes to true companions, not the "friends" he collects like chips, he needs to be able to trust you in all of your entirety. Yes, he has a very low view of himself, but it's not to the degree where he'd willingly use his body in that way to get what he wants.

7. What kind of person do you think Aventurine wants in a relationship?

The real question is whether or not he'll allow himself the liberty of getting into a relationship in the first place. But if I'm going to be honest, I see Aventurine as someone who values honesty and self-reliance, and admires those who are true to themselves and their ideals despite it all (example: Topaz and Dr. Ratio, both of whom he respects and admires as colleagues). So when it comes to being in a relationship, he doesn't want to stress himself out with the mind games; banter, sure, but he doesn't need another person to tip toe around.

Aventurine would want someone who isn't afraid to ask for what they want, or tell him off when he needs to be, yet is genuine, kind and earnest. He also would want someone who could at least take care of themself - as harsh as it sounds, he can't always be there to protect you, and he needs to know that you'll be okay even if he isn't there (also because he finds strength, both intellectual and physical, to be pretty attractive).

It's kind of sad, though. The kind of people Aventurine finds himself attracted to are often the type who end up disliking him.

2k follower event if you want to participate !!!

[vonlycaonwife]

hiiii…any chance you could write a gn!reader x wise fic where they are both pinning over each other? Take your time and don’t rush, make sure to drink plenty of water! Thank you 🙏

Thank you for the reminder! I honestly only drink coffee when I write lmao. But I hope you enjoy this fic! I had some fun writing this, even if the idea might’ve gotten away from me ehe…

Note: Some small implication of mc!Belle

Warnings: none

“Seriously, when are you gonna just talk to them bro?” Belle asked out loud, not bothering to keep her voice down after watching the person, who Wise was obviously crushing on for months at this point, leave the siblings’ store.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He responded, giving her a look before turning back to restocking the shelves.

“Oh please!” The bluenette almost screams, scaring the bangboo at the counter. “Don’t think you can fool me with your ‘oh I have to check the back real quick’ trick! You do it every time they’re here!”

“You’re talking nonsense.” He sighed, pointedly keeping his focus on his ‘task’.

“It’s not! Fairy, back me up!”

[Master is correct, I have noticed the pattern as well.] The AI’s voice resounds from the back. [I have also noticed the other behavioral pattern of Wise staring at the object of his affections when you both go outside and run across them.]

“What? I do not stare.” The male quickly turned his head to glare towards the backroom, though he knew the AI barely cared nor acknowledged him. Taking in another sigh, he just returned to placing the tapes in the box onto the empty shelves. “I don’t understand why you’re so hung up on this.”

“Because I want to see my brother happy?” Belle said, like it was the most obvious thing. She only got a head shake from the elder sibling, which made her huff in annoyance.

—

A few days later the bluenette had decided it was time to come up with a plan, one that they even secretly went over the probability of it working with Fairy. Even though said AI had told her it wasn’t going to work, Belle decided to go forth with her weeks-long plan anyway. Said plan being to become friends with the ‘dreamy customer’ as she liked to tease her brother about since she’s caught him daydreaming many times.

“Hey!” She greeted as the person entered the store, receiving a smile back. “Perfect timing! I already got the movie set up in my room so just head up there while I’m getting snacks.”

“Alright, thanks for inviting me.” They responded, though as they headed towards the stairs they looked back unsure. “I could help you know.”

“Nah, I got it!”

“Okay…” They quickly climbed up to the second floor, looking over at the two doors that greeted them. Luckily they had already been invited into her room multiple times before ever since the bluenette decided to open up a friendship with them. They were a bit shocked at first, but as the bluenette was insistent on hanging out with them, they slowly warmed up to the bubbly girl. 

And while it wasn’t their main reason, it was a nice bonus that the friendship caused them to run into her elder brother. Who they had formed a small crush on ever since they first came across the store. Though the good movies they had was their main reason for returning, having the opportunity to talk with him did not help with their crush festering. At least before they began to see less and less of him whenever they visited.

As they entered the girl's room, they gave the decor a once over. There wasn't any difference really, just some extra little trinkets they swear they haven't seen the last time they were here. But they didn't think about it too much before settling down on the couch, getting as comfortable as they could. They patiently waited for Belle to appear, occasionally looking over their socials. But soon a voice spoke up.

“I got all the snacks Belle, don't know why you asked me to head out to-” Wise began to speak, before freezing once he met eyes with them. In his arms were various bags of junk food snacks and bottles of different drinks. They froze as well, not expecting the male to enter the room.

The two stared at each other for a few moments before they heard Belle yell out from down below. “Oh sorry! I forgot I had something with Nicole! Watch it without me!”

Before either could say or do anything, they heard a door slam shut. The two of them just stayed there staring at each other, not knowing what to do. After a few moments, the person decided to stand up from the couch.

“I-I can leave.” They quickly said, snapping the male out of his stupor. He only sighed, grumbling within his own head as he began to realize what his sister had just done.

“No, it's fine. Would be rude of me to kick you out now.” He replied, stepping over towards the coffee table to get the food and beverages out of his arms. He could see them hesitate a tad, giving them a reassuring smile. “We'll both just have to reprimand her for triple booking.”

They chuckled in response, relaxing a bit as they sat back down on the couch. Though this time they kept to themselves to the side so as to create enough space. “Yeah. Oh, do you know what movie she picked? She never told me.”

“It's supposed to be this new indie documentary movie that we just bought.” He explained, trying his best to remember what he read from the blurb. “We usually watch the new stock before putting them on the shelf.”

“I see.”

The two stayed quiet for a bit, an awkward silence permeating through the air. Neither had any clue on how to truly talk to the other since they rarely had any opportunity to talk (thanks to Wise running away any chance he got, which he’s now regretting). Soon the male decided to start the movie.

As the film played the two watched on with very little commentary, not wanting to create another awkward silence. But occasionally Wise could hear the other mutter a small joke under their breath, causing him to smile a bit. Soon he began to respond with his own quips or opinions on the movie protagonists’ actions and attitudes, leading the two to become more casual with each other. But soon even that died down as the both could feel the tension start to rise within the film, making the two of them on edge as the protagonists argued over their situation.

“Y-You sure this is supposed to be a documentary?” They asked, their hands clutching onto their clothes a bit as the film began to show signs of something brewing behind the scenes. As more and more arguments began to sprung up within the film’s group, their nerves began to rise. In some form of unconscious comfort, they shuffled a bit closer to Wise in hope of their nerves easing. They don’t notice his own tenseness, nor the flinch he does once he realizes how much closer they were now. 

“Th-That’s what I remembered.” He stuttered, racking his brain over any other explanation for what kind of movie he was watching. It was obvious he was watching some kind of suspense, but everything he remembered in the blurb. But a sudden hand grabbing made him jump in fright, causing him to look over to see the other’s scared expression.

“S-Sorry! I-I just...” They explained, their words slurring with how fast they were talking. Their hands shook as they tried to will their grip to loosen from the male’s jacket.

Wise took in a breath, calming his nerves before giving a small smile. “It’s okay.”

The two stayed silent for a moment, the lack of noise only heightened by the movie’s lack of sound as well. Before a sudden scream resounded from the film, scaring both young adults into moving closer and wrapping their arms around each other. They could feel the other shake, trying their best to silently comfort the other.

“W-We should change the movie...”

“Y-Yeah…”

—

“Guys, I’m back!” Belle called out, expecting to hear the two to start cussing her out for her stunt of leaving them alone to watch a horror movie. But she only raised an eyebrow at the lack of response, slowly walking towards her room to see what the two were doing. “That’s weird.”

As she quietly opened her bedroom door, she gasped as she saw the sight before her. There right in front of her was her brother practically cuddling his crush as the two huddled together while they watched what looked to be a more family friendly documentary movie. It was loudly playing, quickly explaining why they didn’t hear her. She smirked, seeing that her plan had seemed to work mostly. Quickly taking out her phone to take a picture, though she forgot to account for the shutter sound effect as it spooked the two.

“Belle!” Wise almost screamed, clearing his throat so as to not look even more scared. Though it was clear to everyone it wasn’t working. Instead he just settled to give his classic upset big brother look. “Don’t do that.”

“What? I’m not doing anything~” She responded cheekily, only earning a harder look in response. “Besides you two seem to be having fun.”

“Well if it weren’t for you leaving us with a horror film.” She heard her friend reply, also giving her a hard stare. Though it wasn’t as serious as Wise’s.

“It was a horror film? Oops!” She chuckled nervously, as it was obvious no one believed her words. But as she placed herself onto the couch right next to the two she knew there weren't any hard feelings. “But we can still continue the marathon if you want.”

“I think I’m good for now, I should get home.” They said, slowly getting up. They weren’t able to catch the small frown that formed on the male’s face, but Belle was. They gave the siblings a small smile, grabbing a bag of candy. “But I’m taking these as revenge for that stunt.”

“What?! Hey, those are my favorites!” They didn’t bother to respond to the woman’s words as they casually walked out of the room. 

Though just as they reached the front door, a ping from their phone alerted them to a text. Checking it, they could see it was a text from the same woman’s room they just left. It was an image, the exact picture she took of them and Wise. They flushed as they began to realize just how it looked like they were cuddling, though they wanted to deny it since they were only trying to comfort the other from each other’s paranoia. But they couldn’t lie how cute it looked, scolding themselves in the head as they saved the picture.

Meanwhile Belle only smirked as the light scolding from Wise went in one ear and out the other. She could see that her friend had seen her message, but didn’t reply. Just as she was about to open her mouth, the voice of Fairy could be heard.

[Master, while I still believe the theory isn’t as plausible as you suggested…] The AI spoke, a small whirring hummed from below the sibling’s room. [By my calculations, the suspension bridge theory does seem to have some small merit.]

“No no no! You are not getting a part in this!” Wise huffed, crossing his arms in frustration.

[But it is very clear that even after you both changed the movie genre, your heartbeats were still high.] Fairy countered. [The same average that is typically seen when individuals are near their subject of affection.]

“You want me to send the picture to you?” She asked quickly, interrupting the male from his oncoming denial. She could see the gears turning in his head, resulting in him only sighing and turning away with an obvious blush on his face. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Shut up.”

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Neo Bowser City (aka Koopa City in PAL regions)

Debut: Mario Kart 7

Do you ever think of all the weird locations we only ever see in Mario Kart games? Despite being the biggest of all of Mario's spin-off franchises, when you really get down to it, remarkably few Mario Kart courses are actually based on established Mario locations!

It's not none, there's the occasional Donut Plains and Tick-Tock Clock and Airship Fortress, but most of the courses are these weird one-off locations we never see outside the context of that specific racetrack.

But have you ever taken a moment to step back and like, think of the Lore Implications of some of these places?

Like okay! Bowser just owns this whole dang cyberpunk city and we only ever see it in the context of Kart Racing! How messed up is that?!

One day Mario and Friends were looking for new places to race, and Bowser must have said something like "Gwah-hah-hah! I bet you puny punks could NEVER beat me in a race in my cyberpunk metropolis!" and right then and there it was established that Bowser owns a cyberpunk metropolis. Neo Bowser City is a city that exists in the Super Mario World and aside from returning in other Mario Kart games, it hasn't been acknowledged before or since.

Neo Bowser City first appeared in Mario Kart 7, as the third course in the Star Cup. Despite its flashy visuals, it actually doesn't really have a whole lot going on. It's a difficult track with some tight turns made more difficult by the rain making things more slippery, but besides that it doesn't really have any of the Wacky Obstacles that define so many Mario Kart courses.

Then it returned in Mario Kart 8 looking more gorgeous than ever! The bright colors really pop out, and the whole track is just oozing with detail that really emphasizes the scale of this city!

But like, the emphasized scale really only further raises the question of where this exists in the Mario World. Clearly, the fact that Bowser is plastered all over the billboards and the fact it's named "Neo Bowser City" helps us deduce that this city probably belongs to Bowser. Is this located in Bowser's Kingdom? Just how big is Bowser's Kingdom? And why does he own so many separate castles?

Maybe Neo Bowser City exists in the future? Is this a bad timeline? I mean, Mario Kart is allowed to have time-travel shenanigans. There's a Splatoon battle arena and that exists thousands of years in the future so sure, dust off Mario's Time Machine and head to the bad future where Bowser wins. Should've pressed that New Super Mario Bros. big yellow P-Switch!

I asked my friend Mod Chikako for their input and their theory is that Neo Bowser City isn't the future of Mario's world, but of our world. Clearly Bowser just couldn't take Wreck-It-Ralph losing the Oscar vote!

But in that case I guess it's a cooler cyberpunk future than the one we're living in right now. Corporate monopolies that run mass-surveillance with little government intervention due to their extreme wealth giving them extensive political power? No thank you! Neo Bowser City has bright neon colors, and flying cars! If I'm going to live in a dystopia, I want it to be a fun one. The only advertisements I want to see plastered everywhere are ones advertising Bowser!

Boo! That's the bad guy! Thumbs down!

The course returns again in that pitiful mobile game with another redesign, this time letting us see his Coney Island Disco Palace off in the distance. Does Bowser live in his Neo City? Is this worldbuilding we've been missing out on for decades, finally answered by a kart racer? Is this the capital city of Bowser's Kingdom? Am I once again falling victim to my perpetual hubris of overthinking the Mario franchise?

Really, I can't offer too much in terms of wacky fan theories, because I'm still thinking about this location existing in the first place. I'd love to know the Lore and worldbuilding here, but I guess the nature of Mario's canon is that it doesn't need to be over-analyzed. Bowser simply owns a cyberpunk metropolis, we'll only ever see it in the context of kart racing, and maybe that's okay.

Of course, this post wouldn't be complete if I didn't mention Dinohattan from the 1993 Super Mario Bros. Movie, which we've barely talked about on this blog somehow. You see, when the meteor hit, some of the dinosaurs escaped into a parallel timeline where they then evolved into humans, and then they built Dinohattan instead of Manhattan. Get it? Yeah, that movie is all sorts of bonkers. I wouldn't say it's very good, but I kinda love it. I'd recommend checking it out, if only to see a vastly different take on Mario than you'd be used to.

Anyway I bring this up because it's a completely separate instance of a version of Bowser building a large cyberpunk metropolis, and it actually predates Neo Bowser City! Do you think they could be connected? Are Dinohattan and Neo Bowser City one and the same...?