#Dusty headcannons

[fishing-for-cod]

Imagine Soap and Gaz having mandatory movie nights to get Price and Ghost caught up on recent things

Like, Ghost doesn't usually care to watch many movies that aren't, like, random nature documentaries and a few good movies he rewatches, so he doesn't know about many of the things that come out like Inside Out or Inside Out 2, Moana, or any of that

And, yes, specifically kids movies

Soap and Gaz get a good laugh out of forcing Ghost and Price to watch "kids' movies", but they all secretly actually really like them

Price usually reads books and doesn't watch lots of movies, but there's still a few good ones he likes (he got introduced to old westerns a while back, and even though he doesn't always understand the "slang", he still likes their aura or vibe or whatever)

Price is the reason they have closed captions on in every movie (he has hearing problems, not because he's old, but because he's shot one too many guns without headphones)

[fight4me]

as a toddler Dusty learned to give the spicyer food to his brothers who had a much higher spice tolerance then Dusty's non-existent one.

[travmalyubvi]

hey, everybody:)

I‘ve talked I have my Dusty and Ishani’s fan children in my old fanfics . So:

Benjamin Crophopper (He/him) is Dusty and Ishani's eldest son. He has green eyes, (as a human, red hair) as an airplane, orange paint job. The propeller in front is the same as Dusty's, the wings are shaped more like Ishani's. The tail and cockpit are the same as Dusty's. Ben is the most devoted fan of his parents, and dreams of following in their footsteps (what he did in one of my fanfics from almost a year ago). Ben is sociable and funny, and he loves his younger siblings and is constantly taking care of them like an older brother. Ben is growing up to be a very active child.

Alex Crophopper (he/him at first, but as they get older they will choose to use the pronouns they/them) is Dusty and Ishani's middle child. They have blue eyes, (as a human, black hair \natural color, then they will dye their hair) as an airplane, yellow, orange, slightly red paint job (Ishani's paint job). The wings and cockpit are like Dusty's, the propeller in the back is like Ishani's, and the nose also looks like Ishani's. They are a real introvert, a calm and quiet child. They are three years younger than Ben. Alex is a creative person, they love art and tea. They also have a so rich imagination.

Lilith Crophopper (She/her) is the youngest daughter of Dusty and Ishani, two years younger than Alex. She has blue eyes, (as a human, red hair), as an airplane, orange paint job. She looks a lot like Ishani. Her wings, cockpit, nose, propeller placement. Her wings are like Dusty's. She is a so brave and perky girl, she can be sassy sometimes.

In my old fanfics there are only two of them, Ben and Lilith. In the very old fanfics (written about two years ago, but never posted online), Lilith is the eldest, and as humans, she has red hair and Ben has dark hair. In later (but still old) fanfics, Lilith finally became a youngest one, but in those fanfics, as a human, she is a brunette. Also, Alex wasn't before, they literally appeared recently, they could be considered a new character.

[k1ng-0fth3p1ra73s]

Simone get my dawg ace to bath he gettin so oily 😞🤕🤕😣

Bubble bath

A/N: wrote this after taking an especially nice shower.

C/W: fluff

Characters: not fucked to right them

Luffy: doesn't. Ever. Full stop.

Zoro: baths all of his swords first. They must be squeaky clean than he tucks them into bed with a little goodnight kiss, reads them a story and then wakes up from his weird ass dream by rolling off deck right into the ocean. thats all the clean he needs.

Sanji: cracks out "ALPHA SMELL" body washes proudly asks Nami if she think he smells more alpha male the next day.

Franky: baths in straight oil can't escape getting rust in his ass tho. 😔

Law: yeah he likes baths, he likes them a-lot actually, there so warm they feel like a hug he never got. A warm wave of fresh air on a cold morning A happy feeling on a sad day a- "CAPTAIN, CAPTAIN WAKE UP YOU FEEL ASLEEP AGAIN" oh yeah thats why he doesn't take baths cause Bepo always find him asleep half submerged under the water.

Kid: also bathes is straight oil not because he needs to like franky does he just wants to for the aesthetic of it.

Killer: he is a happy man in the bathtub ill tell ya that. He sits submerged in like meter height bubbles like an idiot.

Buggy: was a model for the L'oriél Paris shampoo adds. Flicks his hair around whenever he washes it like a super star.

Shanks: he sits their till his ass is wrinkly so he can go around flashing his crew mates.

Crocodile: majestic, beautiful, gorgeous gold plated bathtub lined with candles and fragrances of only the most expensive kind. Reads the news paper with his lower body submerged a cigar lit between his tight lips and the ash tray on the bath side. Actually lemme just turn that into a fic.

Mihawk: hes bored. he dosnt look bored. but now what. the waters nice ig but he likes the couch. so tedious he thinks.

Ace: running around butt booty naked while Marco chases him with a towel "ACE YOUR TAKING A BATH" "NEVER"

Sabo: no time for bath its an eat, sleep grind for this man he is batman

[vxsellie]

domestic gf! ellie

summary. random headcannons about living a small, domestic life with ellie as your girlfriend

notes. nothing makes me happier than domesticity so it was only a matter of time before i made smth like this ! also i haven't made any 'headcannon' posts yet so the setup might be ass bc i fr have no idea what im doing ,, to make up for it i made the post super aesthetic & i'm obsessed w it now xx

warnings. some mentions of sex, it's not necessarily smut it's just the act of loving someone intimately & sometimes being super horny !! overall, this is almost pure fluff though i swear ◡̈

𐙚 first and foremost, ellie def prefers a little life over anything huge or extravagant. she'd take a long morning in bed with u over the met gala any day.

𐙚 something about sun rays filing through dusty shudders makes her heart swell.

𐙚 dirty dishes in the sink, wrinkled bed sheets, cluttered countertops, half-finished home decor, crumples papers, miasma from the bathroom trashcan, that one light you both always forget to shut off. she loves it, all of it.

𐙚 but what she loves most about this life of yours is you.

𐙚 waking up in the morning to see your body sprawled across her chest, a stained band tee clinging to you'd body.

𐙚 hearing you hum songs in the shower while she brushes her teeth at the sink.

𐙚 coming up to wrap her arms around your waist while you cook dinner after a long day of irritable coworkers and snobby customers. then, following that, being able to look across the table at you as you complain about your own day, the taste of your burnt cooking on her tongue.

𐙚 going to the grocery store with you early in the morning after waking to find you're out of cereal for breakfast, both of you insisting you'd thought the other agreed to buy it.

𐙚 your lidded eyes squinting as you read the price tag, leaning heavily on the shopping cart. you're both hungry and tired and annoyed, but have no energy to argue, instead opting to ignore your shared frustration and find solace in the other rather than anger.

𐙚 ellie loading the new groceries onto the conveyor belt while you sleepily fumble with your wallet, still smiling and making conversation with the grocer despite everything.

𐙚 then, getting home and being able to eat your newly purchased cereal, your head leaning on her shoulder as you're both curled up on the couch in front of the tv.

𐙚 ellie oftentimes likes to sit at her desk, scribbling little drawings or entries into her journal while you fill your head with your own random hobbies.

𐙚 she drives you crazy when she taps her pencil against the surface of the desk.

𐙚 the two of you have argued over that a few times, actually. you shouting at her for how annoying the repetitive sound is while she tries to explain that she doesn't even realize she's doing it (though, you don't believe that for a second).

𐙚 over time, however, you've learned to just put on your headphones whenever she journals, the habit becoming as natural to you as drumming her pencil is to ellie.

𐙚 whenever either of you are on your period, the other is certain to be synced, both of you hurting and angry and craving random foods you can't remember the names of. that week is either the worst of your lives, spent arguing and fighting and sobbing; or it's the best, spent singing together in the shower and cooking new recipes and laughing together at ellie's unfunny dad jokes.

𐙚 then, following that week, ovulation hits and you're both completely different people.

𐙚 after you just spent days upon days of working through agonizing pain, you're now unable to think of anything aside from ripping the other's clothes off.

𐙚 dinners go uneaten as she eats you out atop the counter instead; rooms go unswept as you pin her against the nearest wall with an animalistic fervor; her drawings go unfinished as she gets distracted by the girl lying naked in your bed, fingers finding other ways to occupy themselves.

𐙚 ellie has seen you in every state.

𐙚 with greasy unkempt hair, unshaved (everywhere), stained clothing you deem to be 'clean enough', dirt under your nails, unbrushed teeth in the morning.

𐙚 but she doesn't care. she'll still run her fingers through your hair, still rub soothing circles into spiky skin, still strip stained clothes off of you just as desperately, still hold your dirtied hands, still kiss you on the mouth without a care in the world.

𐙚 sometimes, ellie will write songs & ask for your opinion on them.

𐙚 of course, you always tell her how good they are and how proud you are of her. but sometimes you mentally cringe at certain lines or wince at a off-key note.

𐙚 but you love her enough to lie to her face with a curt smile.

𐙚 and even more than that, you love seeing her happy and proud of herself. the sight of her toothy grin and twinkling eyes makes it all worth it.

𐙚 plus, eighty percent of the time, her songs are super fucking good and you're stuck by the passion and care she puts into writing them. the gentility in her intricate fabrication of certain notes and pitches makes your heart stutter. the way her entire body work alongside the guitar with such delicacy that you're sure the two have merged into one tangible being.

𐙚 see, ellie is enamored by the simple things you do ⎯ the way you rip a brush through your hair in the mornings, the gentle whistle you do while cooking or cleaning or doing chores, the fact that you seem to be incapable of making the bed in the morning, the way you always leave your shared shampoo uncapped, the pursing of your lips as you try a new recipe you wanted to try & aren't sure whether you like.

𐙚 these are the things she loves most about you. the things that make her excited to live the rest of her life with you, greasy hair and all.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 taglist : @luvsturniolo @zombieegirl

[ppomumgranatum]

the dance of love's sweet potion.

also available on Ao3

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

tags: fluff, one shot, you POV, house-neutral reader, jealousy, protective

word count: 5.3k

Warnings: MAJOR HEADCANNON, the books and the potions are all in my head just for the sake of this story, characters are in their 7th year, I finally caved and wrote the cliche protective and jealous seb and i fucking love it

Summary: When a potion meant to repel backfired, it became a mishap that turned your world upside down.

Notes: I was craving some fluff, so a fluff was created ❤️

Revulsaroma is a powerful potion that demands careful handling and discretion. Designed for specific situations where deterring unwanted advances or repelling individuals is necessary, its potency requires utmost caution. Ingredients: • 3 drops of essence of skunk cabbage • 2 crushed doxy wings • 1 teaspoon of powdered Boomslang skin • 4 ounces of extract from a Devil's Snare vine • 1 pinch of powdered Basilisk fang • Hair from the person brewing the potion

You carefully traced your finger along the intricate words laid out in the book you had kept from your parents’ dusty collection on potion making and meticulously followed the instructions. Taking advantage of the quiet after hours, you used the station at potion class to get on with your mission.

You’re not a pro in potion making per se, but the way you precisely measure out ingredients, stirring the potion with such poise, you feel as skilled as Professor Sharp– if he was plagued with a horrible disease of a red-haired boy goes by the name of Leander Prewett. 

For weeks, Leander had been following you around so relentlessly and constantly asking you out. It was cute at first but now it was starting to feel like pure harassment. Despite numerous rejection, it didn't seem like he’s the type of guy who understood the concept of boundaries and your patience was wearing extremely thin. 

You remembered an old potion you once came across when you were younger– Revulsaroma, a repelling potion. You figured it was time to revisit those pages since you’re in a dire need for a solution. 

You stirred the components inside of your cauldron with a pinch of determination, distress, and a lot of rage. The earthy and putrid notes filled the air and it was probably going to stick with you for a while but you surely hoped this was going to be worth it.

When the potion finally came to completion, you carefully transferred it to a pumpkin juice bottle to trick Leander into drinking it.

“Alright, that looks good.” You sighed in relief as you put the bottle down and stared at the securely stored dark liquid with pride, knowing that soon you’d be able to take a break from the unwanted attention. At least for a while just until you could figure out a permanent way to stop him, 

You proceeded to clean up your station and returned some tools that you took from the inventory room, making sure that everything was back in its rightful spot. Because Merlin knew that you couldn’t take another chide from Professor Sharp about the importance of being responsible and organised.

Just when everything was about to be restored to its pristine state, you heard a loud retching coming from the other room. When you rushed outside, you saw your bestfriend, hands desperately grasping the edge of your station, body racked with violent gagging, and breath ragged in a grave attempt to gasp for air.

“Sebastian?” You exclaimed while rushing to his side, “Are you alright?”

“Came to—bleughh—look for you,” Sebastian managed to say in between his guttural heaves.

“What’s wrong?” Your voice trailed off when you saw your pumpkin juice bottle collapsed and empty. Right at that moment, your eyes widened at the realisation that Sebastian just drank your Revulsaroma. “No, no, no. You bloody, bloody idiot!” 

Quickly, you summoned water from an empty jar that you found nearby and gave it to Sebastian who was still fighting the disgusting taste stuck in his throat.

Gulping down the entire water in a matter of milliseconds, Sebastian attempted to catch his breath, “Your pumpkin juice�� is expired, by the way.”

“Oh my God, oh my God, Sebastian!” You ran your fingers through your hair in distress. What was already a pretty stressful situation just got a whole lot worse. 

“What?” He was truly not getting your frustration. He gagged once more, recoiling whatever last bit of that disgusting liquid he's tasting.

“That’s not pumpkin juice!” You scowled and gestured abruptly.

“What is it, then? Poison?” Every muscle on his face seemed to tensed up, still.

“Why would you fucking drink that? It was meant for Leander.” You grunted.

His grimace was then taken over by disbelief for a moment, “Gods, killing Leander is a bit extreme, don’t you think? Even for me.”

“No—ugh,” You sighed heavily, feeling totally overwhelmed. Slumping on your station, you rested your head on it "This is bad. It's really bad."

“You're freaking me out. What is it?”

You lifted your head from the table, meeting his concerned gaze with a weary expression.

“It’s a potion called Revulsaroma. It is supposed to repel whoever drinks it.” You admitted.

Sebastian was still focused on getting the foul taste out of his tongue, but his eyes were quickly narrowed in the scrutiny of your last sentence, “And why exactly are you trying to repel Leander?”

Catching Sebastian's look, a twinge of guilt pricked at you. You winced inwardly, realising you'd never really spilled the beans to Sebastian about the whole Leander debacle. Partly because you didn’t want to give him the wrong idea and thinking that there was anything romantic going on between you and the Gryffindor boy. 

The line on your relationship with Sebastian had always been blurry, if you could be honest. You’re obviously friends—best friends—but at the same time, the chemistry between the two of you would be such a waste to stay as friends.

You’d occasionally exchange innocent flirting, teasing each other and bantering in a way that felt more than platonic. You couldn't deny the butterflies in your stomach that fluttered every time he smiled at you and the way you felt when he complimented you.

Things had been going very well lately, and you'd like to think you had a shot to turn it into something more.

But now, he’s consumed the one thing that was going to seal the chance you have with him. Because whatever feeling he was going to feel, the potion was supposed to make him feel it so strongly. 

The thought of losing Sebastian terrified you.

“That’s not what we’re supposed to be focusing on.” You diverted the topic and reached out to your book, checking for things to look out for. Your eyes trailed the ink that explains the detail of the potion.

You noticed Sebastian had shifted his weight from the corner of your eye, moving somewhat uncomfortable in his feet.

"But what does that mean for me?" he asked.

You sighed, trying to collect your thoughts. "According to the potion's effects, you're supposed to start feeling aversions towards me," you explained, gesturing towards the brewing cauldron with a frustrated gesture. "and I have no idea how to reverse it.”

Your voice was heavy with disappointment. The same emotion was written all over Sebastian's face. There was silence as you both processed the fact that there was no quick fix to this mess.

“So, I’m supposed to hate you? Just like that?”

“That’s kind of the whole point of the potion.”

Sebastian's eyes scanned the cluttered laboratory, a look of resignation settling over his features. "Well, this is just great," he muttered under his breath. Sebastian's complexion turned paler, a nauseous expression crossing his features, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Sebastian stood there, his hand pressed against his stomach, unsure if the wave of nausea washing over him was solely due to the potion's effects or the unsettling thought of hating you.

But then he felt his body teetering on the brink of collapse. You grappled his arm to provide support but his condition worsened in an instant and he started to fall backwards. Using every ounce of your strength, you were struggling to keep him upright because damn this boy was heavy. And when his weight eventually bore you down, you lowered him down gently.

There was no response even after you called out his name and shook his body. His breathing was laboured and you were panicking. You didn’t know the potion would be this strong.

Spotting a group of students who were passing by outside of the classroom, you called out to them for assistance. Sebastian was then taken to the infirmary and was given proper treatment by Nurse Blainey.

You had to awkwardly explain what caused the brunette to lose his consciousness. Given the fact that you were practising and using potions for non-study purposes, disciplinary action was necessary and you were required to attend detention tomorrow.

When you returned to your room that night, all you did was shift around in your bed. Spending the entire night thinking about Sebastian and how he will wake up in the morning hating you.

But for now, all you could do was wait.

 - 

When the sun rose, you were quick to get back on your feet and head towards the infirmary to check on Sebastian before breakfast started. But to your surprise, he was no longer there. Nurse Blainey said he woke up all energetic and there were no signs of any disturbance so she allowed him to get on with school.

You were slightly relieved to know that Sebastian was feeling better. Although the question of his feelings towards you remained unknown.

So you ventured on, heading to the Great Hall for breakfast. Moving along with a crowd of students who were also making their way to the venue you suddenly bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry.” You glanced up to see it was no other than Sebastian, “Hey, I was looking for you.”

You’ve caused some traffic considering you abruptly stopped in the middle of a walkaway crowd. Some were bumping into you and muttered under their breaths in annoyance. It was a horrible time to be upsetting people—hungry and grumpy people.

So Sebastian dragged you away from the crowd. You were caught a little bit off guard at the sudden tug on your elbow. Your feet were almost stumbling around trying to catch up to Sebastian’s pace.

“Are you insane?” Was the first thing he said when you found a quiet little corner away from the bustling people.

Your stomach clenched. 

This was it. 

The memories you shared for the past two years dramatically flashed before your eyes— the adventures, the late night studies, the stupid unfunny jokes he made but you laughed at them anyway— fuck. 

This was it.. he hated you.

“Why would you tell Nurse Blainey the truth about everything?” He sounded quite aggravated. Unexpectedly, it was not for the reason you thought it would be— albeit he should be angry towards you for no reason at all considering the potion.

Your mouth gaped open but you were struggling to find the words. 

"You could've just said it was a bad batch for our assignment," He explained. "You didn't have to get detention for it."

“What?” You finally managed to sputter out.

“Blainey said she gave you detention.” He added, “I feel bad.”

You can’t feel bad for someone you hate unless they fall into lava and viciously die or something. Because to feel bad meant having empathy, and to feel empathy meant he cared, which meant he didn’t hate you and the potion never worked.

Right?

“So you don’t hate me?” You asked carefully.

His tensed brows gradually softened as realisation dawned on him. He was so focused on you that he never really thought of what the potion was supposed to make him feel.

“I don’t, actually.” He sounded relieved and as were you upon hearing his confirmation, “I guess the potion never worked after all.”

Relief washed over you like a cool breeze on a hot day. Though you started wondering if the potion didn’t work on Sebastian, it might’ve not worked on Leander either. Which meant you were back to square one, trying to figure out how to deal with his annoying arse. 

But it was a problem you didn’t want to think about too much at the moment. You were just glad your friendship with Sebastian remained intact despite the unfortunate mishap.

“So what did Blainey assign you to do?”

“She said Scribner has been fussing over some organising issues.” You grumbled, “She told me to give her some assistance after classes.”

“Yikes.” Sebastian said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” You retorted, “Are you really feeling alright?”

“As normal as I can be.” He smiled reassuringly, “Though, you still haven’t told me why you were trying to repel Leander.”

“He just..” You hesitated for a moment,  annoys me.” 

Technically, you didn’t lie. Leander’s entire antics had been nothing but annoying to you. Sebastian only pursed his lips and nodded. Be that as it may, his eyes were looking at you rather dubiously. But he didn’t pry further.

–

After breakfast, you had some time to kill before class started. You found yourself seeking solace in the quiet lounge area near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. With a book on Revulsaroma in hand, you sought answers in its pages that you might have missed. It explained further about its history and the past research on this potion. As you delved deeper, a particular section caught your eye that described a crucial detail—

The Revulsaroma potion's effectiveness in repelling a drinker is contingent upon the absence of strong positive emotions towards the potion-maker. If the drinker harbours genuine affection for the potion-maker, the potion's repelling properties may be nullified or significantly weakened. This phenomenon is attributed to the potent influence of positive emotions, which can act as a counterforce against the potion's intended repulsion.

Before you could dwell on it further, Leander plopped beside you out of nowhere and casually draped his arm around your shoulder, interrupting your thoughts.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He greeted you with a smile so charming if he wasn’t so pushy about it you could see yourself giving in to his cheesy escapades. You subtly shifted away from the sudden proximity, hoping he would take the hint some time.

“Good morning, Leander.” You replied politely.

He seemed to be undeterred by your subtle attempt because he leaned in closer, “So, I was thinking, with the weather getting nicer and all, let’s take a trip around the highlands.” He sounded so enthusiastic for a suggestion that’s so inappropriate, “We could explore the beautiful scenery. My family has this cosy little cottage just outside of Keenbridge that we can use. What do you think?”

You scrunched up your nose because it sounded bloody ridiculous, “A bit intimate, don’t you think?”

“What’s wrong with a little bit of intimacy?”

“Nothing wrong with it, of course. If you’re a couple.”

“Oh, come on. You’ll love it.” Leander’s enthusiasm didn’t waver, if anything he sounded even more excited. 

“It’s too much—”

He interrupted you with a tone so persuasive, “Okay fine, how about just a simple Hogsmeade date, then?”

You sighed at his persistence. It’s really getting too much. 

“Leander, it’s really sweet but—”

Suddenly, your conversation was interrupted by a looming shadow casted over the both of you. Glancing up, you saw Sebastian standing there with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

“I’m going to count to three, Prewett, and you are going to stand up and get your arse the fuck out of here.”  He demanded.

“What are you going to do about it if I don’t?” He was annoyed  by Sebastian's sudden intervention.

The brunette’s gaze was focused on the way Leander had his arms wrapped around your shoulder and the way his hand was caressing your arm at the same time. Then he stared dead into Leander's eyes, “You don’t want to find out.”

Somehow you found yourself caught in the middle of the sudden hostility. 

“Sebastian.” You warned him softly.

“Ignore him.” Leander didn't care for the threat. But Sebastian wasn’t having it and when Leander was ready to ignore him and continue his conversation with you, Sebastian grabbed him by his collar that it forced Leander to stand up, and he dragged the red haired boy away and slammed his back into a nearby pillar.

“I told you to fucking stand up and get out of here.” Sebastian scowled.

“Get your filthy hands off of me.” Leander attempted to shrug off Sebastian’s grip but it only grew tighter.

“Then you better get yours away from her.” His voice was so low and menacing. You had no idea what possessed him, because as aggressive as Sebastian could get he wouldn’t be so quick to resort to anything so recklessly physical unless it’s necessary— at least not anymore.

“Are you both out of your minds?” You stood beside the conflicting boys, “Stop being children or you will get into trouble.” The confrontation was drawing more attention from onlookers, and you could sense the tension rising. 

A crowd started gathering around to see what the fuss was about. Students nearby paused and turned their heads, curious about the commotion. Whispers and side conversations began to buzz through the group as they watched the confrontation unfold.

You felt a bit awkward with the sudden attention. The whole thing was getting more dramatic than you'd anticipated, and you just wanted to find a way to sort it out before it got worse.

“What is your problem, Sallow?” 

“You are the problem, Prewett. Can’t you take the hint?”

“It’s none of your business.” The Gryffindor boy was defensive— as anyone would be if someone just randomly shoved you into the wall and told you what to do. 

“It becomes my business when you decide to harass her.”

“You are making a scene. Stop it.” You warned them, hoping they would steer away from the conflict. But they were still too busy with each other.

“Trying to be a big hero, aren’t you? Protecting her?” Leander was clearly taunting him. Sebastian wouldn’t usually allow himself to be bothered by whatever nonsense Leander would do. But this time was different,  “She doesn’t need you. She can make her own decision.”

“And she did, when she said no.” Sebastian retorted sharply, “So back off.”

“If you are so worried about me taking her out then you should’ve asked her first. Don’t come here and act all heroic because you missed your chance.” Leander fired back, “If you weren’t such a coward—-”

There went the last cell of Sebastian’s brain that allowed him to think rationally when he decided to punch Leander in the face, sending the red-haired boy stumbling and his nose bleeding. 

“Sebastian!” You stepped in between them, trying to push Sebastian back behind the line he just crossed. His eyes were glaring and breaths were rather ragged from the anger, “What the fuck are you doing?”

After being punched unexpectedly, Leander's pride and dignity were hurt. He wouldn't tolerate being attacked without retaliating. He mustered all of his anger and frustration to punch Sebastian with all of his force. 

But before he could, Sebastian struck again, landing a second punch on his face. Leander stumbled backwards again, but this time he was quicker to get back on his feet and lunged forward, swinging his fists wildly. 

Sebastian was able to dodge a few of his blows, but Leander managed to land a couple of powerful punches on Sebastian's cheek. 

Sebastian stepped back, his face red from pain and anger. Now the two of them had no choice but to fight, and you had no choice but to look for some help. Luckily, it wasn’t long for you to reach Professor Hecat, because when you returned to the brawl, Leander was already pinned to the floor with Sebastian on top of him, landing more punches.

Professor Hecat swiftly casted a spell that immediately shoved both of them away from each other. 

The two boys stood there with battered faces and were later sent to the same detention as you.

You had no desire in conversing with idiots, so when the three of you shared the space on one of the library aisle, organising books, you gave all your might to ignore them, especially Sebastian.

You thought he’d left his impetuous behaviour back in the catacombs two years ago, but clearly you were wrong. The way you aggressively shoved books into places allowed Sebastian to notice that you were furious.

“I know you’re angry at me.” He said, breaking the silence.

“Oh really? Didn’t think you’d notice. I was being subtle.” You replied sarcastically.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what had gotten into me.” His voice was soft but outright, “You know I don't fight muggle-style.”

You remained cold. There was nothing about his apology that made you feel better. So you continued to ignore him and he tried to speak up again.

“Can we talk?” He pleaded but you ignored him. You picked up a stack of books and moved to the next aisle to shelve them in their proper places.

Sebastian followed you behind, not backing down, “I’m really, really, sorry.”

He seemed genuinely apologetic, but you were reluctant to give in. After all, his actions had caused this entire mess and resulted in the two boys getting detention.

You didn’t want to argue with him, but you couldn’t resist making a point.

“Tell that to Leander and his broken nose.”

Sebastian let out a scoff, “I’m not sorry about that.”

“Seriously Sebastian? You hit him first. He just reacted.” You turned to face him this time.

"He was harassing you," Sebastian defended himself, "I had to do something."

"Did you have to punch him in the face? Repeatedly?”

“Why are you defending him?” His tone was rising, "What do you expect me to do? Just stand by and let him flirt with you?"

“What is so wrong with that?”

“Because—” Then he stopped himself. Eyes flustered and flicked between yours like he was trying to gather his own thoughts. Then he let out a frustrated sigh,  “Leander is a self-oriented, self-indulgent, arrogant, selfish, insufferable jerk.”

You shook your head in disbelief and stared dead at him in the eye, “Well, right now it sounds like you were just describing yourself, Sebastian.”

Before you could say anything else, you left him alone in the aisle and this time he didn’t follow you.

—

It was Saturday morning, and while you had no classes to attend, you were still stuck with detention for a portion of the day. Not only did this eat into your weekend leisure time, but you also had to spend it without talking to Sebastian.

You sighed as you placed books somewhere in the corner of the library right where they belonged. 

Couldn’t help but think that spending your weekend somewhere in the castle, perhaps the undercroft, reading books and being alone together with Sebastian was where you belonged. 

Time sure felt lonely without his presence.

Then as if he could read your mind from miles away he showed up, “Do you like Leander?”

Shocked and confused by the sudden question you turned to find Sebastian standing at the end of the aisle.

His face was a patchwork of bruises and cuts, a visible reminder of the fight he had gotten into with Leander. A purplish bruise marred his cheek, and a small cut above his eyebrow was still fresh. Despite his battered appearance, his eyes were focused intently on you, filled with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“What?” You asked.

“I spent the entire night thinking about you. I thought maybe you like Leander, because why did you defend him so much yesterday?” He rambled.

You opened your mouth to say something but Sebastian wasn’t finished.

“But then I thought, if you liked him, why did you want to repel him with the potion?” He continued, “And why did you reject him when he asked you out? Five times, over the past month.”

You opened your mouth again, but this time every single word you have learned seemed to have fallen over your head because not a single thing came to your mind.

There were two things that surprised you.

One, Sebastian spent the entire night thinking about you.

Two, Sebastian knew that Leander had been asking you out.

And your brain did not know which one to stress about first.

“You knew about Leander?” You finally said.

“We share every class everyday. You don’t think I’d notice?” He replied with another question, “He wasn’t subtle about it either. Was I not supposed to know?”

You fell quiet, unsure of what to say next. The more you opened your mouth, the more you found yourself with nothing to say. 

Sebastian waited for your response, but when it did not come, he continued, “Why did you keep rejecting him?”

You shrugged, slightly flustered, “Simply because I don’t want to go out with him.”

“Why did you not tell me about him, then?”

“It wasn’t worth mentioning,” you replied, avoiding his gaze.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Sebastian stared at you, as if he couldn’t believe your answer.

“It was pointless,” Your tone was rising slightly, “It’s not like I would ever date Leander. I wasn’t even giving him a second thought. So It doesn’t matter.”

Sebastian was silent for a beat before he spoke again. “It matters to me.”

Your pulse raced, and the air suddenly felt tighter.

Sebastian was staring at you, his eyes intent and penetrating. The silence stretched on, and you had to force yourself to look him in the eye

“Everything about you matters to me. You’re my best friend. We’re supposed to share everything, right?” He added, “Isn’t that what best friends do?”

As you stood there, guilt was eating you inside out. Your decision to leave him in the dark unexpectedly hurt him more than you thought. The look in his eyes was so unfamiliar you couldn’t pinpoint his emotion.

He took a step closer.

“Why do you care so much? It’s just Leander.”

“Don’t you get it?” He said softly, “It’s not about Leander. It’s about the fact that he’s been asking you out, flirting with you relentlessly, being so close with you.. in a way that is supposed to be only for me.”

You stood there, stunned. His words hit you like a bolt of lightning, and you felt a mix of shock and confusion wash over you.

Sebastian took another step towards you, his gaze steady and unbreaking, and it was piercing through your soul.

“It’s supposed to be just for me” He repeated the phrase as if he was talking to himself. The look in his eyes was intense, and you could feel how important this was to him.

A moment passed until you realised that you should respond. The longer you stayed silent, the worse it felt. So you spoke up, “Are you jealous?”

“Yes.” He simply replied.

His response set your body ablaze. You could feel your heart pounding in your throat.

“I was supposed to hate you, but instead I woke up that morning in the infirmary and I couldn’t be more sure that I am utterly and completely in love with you.” His voice dropped, “And when I saw you with Leander and hearing all the things that he said, I meant it when I told you I had no idea what had gotten into me but all I knew was every single cell in my body was on fire.”

You thought for sure your heart would explode as all of this sunk in. You had expected anything but a confession. Your heart was beating so fast and hard that you had to concentrate on breathing, or else it felt like you couldn't breathe.

“I spent the entire night thinking about all of the time we've spent.” He added, “I can't stop thinking about the sound of your laughter. The way you'd still genuinely laugh at the most unfunny joke I would tell. Or how your usual bright eyes would fall into a deep immersion when you read. And the way your delicate finger hovers over the edge of a page, turning it over.”

A smile tugged on the corner of Sebastian's lips as he recalled every little detail about you that only he would care about. The beat of your heart went faster with each syllable that came out of his mouth and every nerve in your body was shaking.

“I always wonder how the touch of those fingertips would feel on my skin,” There were so many things he wanted to say to you. Every detail of you that made him so desperately in love, “and how perfect your fingers would be intertwining with mine.”

For a moment, you were one-hundred percent sure this was all a dream. Because everything around you seemed so blurry and all of the sudden everything felt surreal. But when Sebastian took another step closer, and another until he was close enough to grab your hands and intertwine your fingers together, the haze dissipated. The way his touch alerted every single nerve in your body, you knew that this was real— he was real and he was in love with you.

The two of you stood there, inches apart, staring at each other with your emotions overflowing.

“We belong together.” You could see that his intensity and raw emotion was getting the better of him. His words were coming out quick and sudden, “I should’ve asked you out long before Leander did. Just another stupid mistake I made.”

He inched closer and closer until you felt Sebastian's breath on your lips, and your body trembled in anticipation. You took a deep breath and let yourself fall into the moment.

“You could’ve been too late, you know?” You whispered.

“Am I?”

You shook your head and smiled against his lips, “No, you’re not. I’ve been stupidly waiting for you.”

Sebastian's voice was soft and tender as he spoke again, “I’m glad we’re both stupid enough, then. And for many other things that make me glad you're finally mine."

“Even the potion?” You smirked.

“Especially the damn potion.” A smile spread across Sebastian's face.

Your breaths were laced with desire, and your thoughts went to the first kiss between the two of you were going to share. It felt surreal to have arrived at this moment that you had both anticipated for so long.

Your lips were close enough to touch. Your hearts were beating so loudly. And in this moment, it felt like a moment out of time.

When his lips met yours, the world seemed to melt away and everything else faded into the background. It was everything it had built up to be—hot and passionate and exciting.

You kissed him deeply and all was right with the world. Sebastian's hands wrapped around your back, and yours around his neck. 

Your senses were all focused on Sebastian, on the kiss and the way he made you feel. This was what you had been waiting for, and it was everything you dreamed of and more.

When you pulled away, your eyes were locked and you found yourselves smiling uncontrollably. There was nothing left to feel awkward or unsure of, and it felt as if a weight had been lifted.

Sebastian brushed his fingers through your hair. You were finally getting your happiness.

"I love you," He whispered against your lips.

“I love you, too.” you replied softly, brushing your noses together.

You spent the rest of the day making out in the deepest corner of the library, neglecting your detention. And when Madam Scribner found the two of you some time later, all dishevelled, you were granted another detention time.

But neither of you cared. Because it was all worth it.

In an extremely rare case, the Revulsaroma potion could have an unprecedented effect, completely opposite to its intended repelling nature. Rather than nullifying or weakening, the potion might paradoxically amplify and reinforce any existing strong positive feelings that the drinker harboured towards the potion-maker. Due to genuine and deep-seated love for the maker, the drinker might experience a surge of intense emotions that can be both overwhelming and consuming, such as, jealousy, protectiveness, and overwhelming affection.

[callooopie]

The night, she calls me.. // Vampire!HOTD men

Come with me to the other side. Make the girl in black your bride — The Night // Aurelio Voltaire

It took all my willpower to not make this like a What We Do in the Shadows bit. No one asked for this either.. so that’s why I’m writing it. Is this gonna be a series of headcannons? No… no. No no… no no nono. I’ve started tooooo many writing projects I cannot… or can I 😏 (I actually can’t I have too many requests I need to lock in on)

Did you know what land you were walking on? Did you see the figure watching you from the top floor window? Was that a shadow you saw out the corner of your eye?

Davos Blackwood // Bloody Lord of Raventree Hall

A manor buried in the dark forests of Blackwood Vale, an urban legend surrounded the woods and the semi-ghost town beside it. Locals would talk of a figure that walked the empty streets at night, and the older residents would sometimes speak of an old estate once owned by a wealthy family that could be found in the heart of the forest. But no one has seen this place, or perhaps no one has ever returned alive to tell the tale.

The ever playful lord of Raventree Hall likes toying with his victims before they meet their bloody demise. If a fool ever gets lost on his land, Davos will follow them around in the form of a raven, acting as if he was leading them to the help they desperately called out for. Some would fall for it; the ‘guiding’ corvid that had brought them to this dusty manor. Little did they know, they wouldn’t be leaving that place.

He’s the type to make Raventree Hall look appealing and safe to the unwitting person, sometimes even playing the part of a humble boy who lives in his family’s old home. He’d learn all about a person as he feeds them food, bloody meat cooked to perfection for any human. Eat up, Davos would say, it’s a good cut of meat.. he’d hate for it to go to waste. Oh? The red wine tastes metallic? Strange.. perhaps a bottle gone bad?

He’d keep his lover human, not out of admiration of their humanity—but as more of a ‘pet’. The only reason Davos would turn a human into a vampire would be for his own entertainment purposes. It’s more fun when you can handle him and not pass out every time he does something. Plus, he wants the security of knowing you won’t be leaving him anytime soon. Forever stuck by his side, living forever in a world of night and pleasure by his doing and his doing alone.

Before you become his lovely lady, perhaps you’re one of those lost souls who stumble upon the estate. Either by poor luck or poorer fortunes, you catch the attention of Davos. He scares you from the shadows, setting candles alight with just a gust of wind, slamming doors and sending phantasms to spook you with howls and haunting steps, sending ravens and crows to caw and peck at you. It’s only when you get to the main atrium of the manor does he strike. A sinister smile on his pale face as he lunges at you from out of nowhere, teeth sinking into the skin of your neck as hands travel up and down your torso.

A master of shadows and tricks, Davos isn’t one to meet his adversaries head on. He doesn’t think they deserve his attention. He can deal with vampire hunters and celebrity ghost hunters with a wave of his hand from his bed chambers at the very top of the manor. He can make it as if ghouls are chasing around those idiots, birds seemingly attacking them on sight, if he’s feeling funny he might summon a demon or two. Why does he have the title of bloody lord? Well, he’s just a messy eater, and the corpses he leaves behind are unrecognizable from what they once were.

Jacaerys Velaryon // Draconic Prince of the Night

The picturesque village that the castle of Dragonstone sits next to has gained a plethora of tourists. However, no one has ever been allowed inside. From a mixture of local superstition, and simply because the wooden gates and doors will not open. Nothing can break, or even burn, the wood. Cursed or blessed, many have stayed away from that castle said to have been forged by dragon fire.. if local legends are to be believed.

Local legends also speak of how beautiful women are kidnapped from their homes and beds, never to be seen ever again. As a tourist, you believe you’re safe.. and you don’t really believe in those tales.. at least you don’t believe them until you awaken in a bed that’s not the hostel’s.

Jacaerys is a vampire who is easily bored. He wants someone who’ll keep up with him. A pretty princess to take care of and to simply sit like a doll, but also one who has a bit of wit and brain to them. Someone to go hunting with, or to fly around in the dead of night together. Someone to chase, someone to have intellectual conversation with.

A little more serious than a certain bloodthirsty lord, Jacaerys will turn his lover almost immediately. What’s the use in keeping you human and mortal? There is no use! Now you’re just like him, and you two can bond and be merry together in that lonesome stone castle. All the others he had spirited away were awfully dull, perhaps you will be different?

Like a dragon, he hoards his treasures. He’ll keep you close, too close almost. Jacaerys will hand feed you blood, lifting someone’s arm up to your mouth and praising you for dining on the thick liquid and flesh. He’ll hover near you, you two are royalty after all. It’s good for a prince like him to check up on his princess. He’ll dress you in gold and red fabrics, or maybe nothing at all! Jacaerys does like it when you’re only clad in gold and gems, sit yourself down on his mountains of treasure and make your nest; he’ll show he’s a good dragon who takes care of his mate.

A scholar of dragon magic, the only thing that can destroy his castle is what made it in the first place. Dragon fire. And dragons died out long long ago sweet thing (or never existed at all…). He’s perhaps the only one that remains! Believe whatever you will, Jacaerys will happily prove to you that dragons are real. And you believe it as you watch him transform into one to deal with trespassers who had somehow broken into the castle. Sure there’s ways in if your crafty enough, but what people don’t say is that there’s no way out once you’re in. The charred piles of bones that litter the treasure room are a testament to that.

Cregan Stark // Vampiric King in the North

Perhaps the only one out of the trio to be semi-normal. An urban legend surrounds the snowy mountains of a large wolf that leads lost wanderers to an empty yet warm and alive stone keep. It’s said if you stay for one night and leave the next day, you’ll find your way back to civilization. However, overstay your welcome and you won’t be heard from ever again…

Your car had broke down, and you hadn’t expected such a large snowstorm to sweep through. You’re on the brink of hypothermia, however you spot something in the distance. The howl of a wolf reaching your ears as the wild beast walks toward you. It almost seems to gesture toward you with its head, beckoning for you to follow. You’ve heard this legend, and so when you find yourself in the safety and warmth of a stone fortress you do your best to remain courteous and respectful. The plan was to leave in the morning, however when you try to open the large wooden door to leave—it slams shut on you before locking tightly.

Cregan likes your humanity, wishing only to learn from you. He would not covet you like a prize, nor would he treat you like a pet. To turn you without your consent? Unfathomable. If you wish to be turned, he would gladly do so at your request. Although he would tell you what you’ll miss, what you will be letting go of in exchange for this eternal life of coldness and blood. Perhaps it’ll all be worth it in the face of his love and companionship?

Teach him everything about you, and he’ll teach you all he knows. Cregan’s an old soul who’s lived more lifetimes than he can remember. He’s powerful, ancient; that uppity prince and cocky lord answer to him! He’s their overlord, they are his mere sons subordinates. All that aside, Cregan has vast collections of knowledge from throughout the ages. Although do remember, he scratches your back, and you will scratch his. Or he’ll show you what happens to those who’ve forgotten such an important lesson.

Unlike his underlings, Cregan can control his appetite for blood. He’s learned, and so he keeps a stockpile of it. Some of it ages like wine in a cellar, other bottles he keeps near and close. A special cabinet is reserved for special blood of course. What? You’ve never tried the blood of a priest? It’s heavenly.

Unlike the other two, Cregan lives more on red meats. Which he can get from almost anything. Although due to the coldness of the region, not many animals venture out. For a special occasion, you’ll find your plate full of fresh organs and fatty raw meat. A glass of thick red liquid right next to your plate. Cheers and eat your fill, it’s fresher than fresh. And who knows when an unsuspecting person will come up these mountains again?

[halfbloodfics]

Hi! Yeah, so I desperately need a Pillow Fucking Snape who's needy for his Y/N as your sub!Snape headcannon made him 🥹👏 Skipping all the pleasantries here 'cus holy moly you got me with those headcannons and since you sent me here from the comments I went straight in for the request 👀❤️

A/N: {i have been wanting to write this, a sinfully long time. he's so sub its actually tragic. this is REALLY long im so sorry, but i really wanted to make it a sweet, long buildup of how much Sev really wants this woman :') Sev is literally like a feral cat experiencing love for the first time in this lmao}

title: let me get what i want

18+ minors dni

rating/tw: explicit, smut, brief mention of suicidal thoughts in very beginning

tags: solo smut, solo snape, sub!snape, snape centric pov, masterbation, insecurity, guilt, shame, kinda angsty, snape is touch starved, female professor reader

song: please, please, please let me get what i want by the smiths

MASTERLIST

~

Severus was a man not known for his indulgences. Everyone knew that. He knew that.

Gratification was a luxury he could never afford.

Growing up poor, Severus learned quick that what you desire is often not what you get. He had desired a lot of things before, certainly. To say he hadn't would be nothing but a lie. In the nights in his bedroom in that dusty old house on Spinners End, cowering in the corner, he desired for the drink in his fathers hand to put him to sleep at last. In his fifth year, glaring at the smirking upside down face of James Potter and Sirius black, he desired revenge. At 21, in the doorway of Dumbledore's office, when he learned the consequences of trust, he desired his death.

He had lived his entire life chasing his desires like a dog chasing the moon, knowing it was out of reach and yet too unevolved to understand how.

And yet... He had never felt his desire so, within grasp until he had met her. Those things of the past, poisonous, intangible pleasures, dark or light, had never been even remotely in reach.

She came into his life like a meteror, completely dashing across his sky, ripping him from the endless chase he had partoke in his entire life. Leading him on a completely seperate path, one he had never thought would ever find him...

True, honest, burning, desire.

The day she started teaching at Hogwarts in the middle of the year was a day like any other. Professor Sprout having retired rather abruptly, Severus didn't even spare a single thought at who would replace her. Why would he? For what reason? The weight of returning responsibilies lay heavy on his left forearm. Harry's 4th year, the emergence of his name from that god foresaken over-glorified cup; the promise of danger, the threat of a decade old vow..

The moment she walked in and sat beside him at the Professors table was hardly memorable, aside for the absolutely obnoxious outfit she were wearing.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye as he ate, interested only in seeing the face stupid enough to wear the brightest possible shade of yellow, in his presence, none the less.

When he found a rather young woman smiling at him, his gaze flicked away back to his plate. He had no interest. No desire, for conversation. And certainly not with someone resembling an overgrown daffodil.

It was barely the end of the first week when she had knocked on his door. Opening it and finding no one at his eye level, he glanced down.

Why on Earth, was she always wearing the horribly bright shade of yellow?

After she had given him an obscure collection of herbs, Severus thanked her with a brief nod before promptly closing the door on her face. He'd expected as much, Sprout and him had always had a decent, professional relationship. Their disciplines somewhat intertwined, Sprout had always provided him with the clippings of plants he needed, and in turn Severus had always provided her with whatever potions he could brew to help her plants. It wasn't the act that surprised him, but the way this new professor went about it.

She smiled a smile as bright as her shirt, every cursed night she knocked on his door. It was always something with this woman. A clipping, an herb, an old book. It was as if all things useful to him kept apparating in her office with a giant note saying "GIVE THIS TO THE GRUMPY GIT DOWN THE HALL."

Often times these gifts came along with unwanted and frankly unnecessary conversation. At first it was small talk, questions about his day, brief statements about yours. Often times she told him things about herself he didn't particularly care to know; such as what book she was reading, or how her vacation back home for the Holidays was.

What Severus did care for, was eye contact. It could have been the Occlumens in him, his guarded persona trying to gain some sense of dominance over the conversations where he usually felt none, an oppertunity to control.. to read.

And yet everytime he looked at her, he found her shining eyes looking right back up at him with a confidence that unnerved him. She stared him right in the eyes as he talked, not with a malice he had seen before, not with a fear he had grown accostomed to seeing and not even with an expectancy that so many demanded of him.

She looked at him like she could see right through him. As if she could see into every desire he ever had, as if his Occlumency skills were pointless against the skill of a 20 something year old Herbology Professor who hadn't even fought in the first Wizarding War.

And so reluctantly, as Severus took every gift with a nod and eventually a brief thanks, offering his own potions occasionally in return as he had so many times before despite feeling slightly unnerved.

The simple, professional relationship seemed to teeter on the edge of what was almost a-

"Friendship," She'd described it once in the doorway of his office. "It's a nice friendship we've got going on here, Severus. Thank you, for helping me, I appreciate it."

That was a word Severus hadn't clung to for quite some time.

He blinked, silent for several moments, for the first time in a long time almost uncertain of what to say. He hadn't considered her a friend, had he? Even as the months of the academic year had passed by, even as the conversation began to drift from work to hints of her personal life. Even as he found the corners of his lips occasionally twitching up in a smirk as she laughed her obnoxiously cheerful, loud laugh. Even after he began knocking on her door as she had knocked on his..

He hadn't even considered that she might have desired to be his friend. Or that he might have desired to be hers.

And in the months that passed by after that casual conversation, the one she had let slip likely without thinking twice, Severus found himself replaying the moment over and over in his head.

He found himself walking down the corridors between his lectures, expecting to see the young witch in that painfully bright yellow dress he'd somehow grown to tolerate.

He had even wiithout fully relising it himself, grown to desire it. her presence, her friendship.

And it had gone completely under that Roman nose until that one evening in March in the Great Hall for supper. Sitting beside her, Severus looked across the hall as he ate and she talked his ear off, a habit of avoiding her gaze he'd begun to pick up. It was only when she brushed her long hair off her neck and took a sip of her wine that Severus glanced at her for longer than a moment.

His heart stopped involuntarily in his chest.

Her neck, the soft, delicate flesh, was marked with a bruise of broken blood vessels. It was small, almost hidden towards the back of her neck, but that dark red mark stuck out like a thorn against the warm shade of yellow.

He didn't understand the sinking in his stomach he hadn't felt in over a decade. There was no reason for his jaw to clench as he looked back at his plate, no reason why his appetite was somehow ruined.

And all of a sudden, on a simple Tuesday in March, did Severus understand that he had grown to desire something...

"Gratification was a luxury he could not afford"

The weeks after that were nothing short of torture, for a magnitude of reasons. The dark mark on his arm burned stronger with each passing day; Karkaroff's words from the Yule Ball hung heavy in the air of his chamber, late at night when he couldn't sleep. The second task of the Triwizard tournament was a moment still echoing in his crowded mind. Who was stealing gillyweed? Why was Harry's name actually put in the goblet of fire?

And yet, out all of the absolute bullshit fighting for dominance in his crowded mind, did his thoughts always trail back to her.

Like a lovestruck idiot, he couldn't stop thinking of her. Or more so, thinking about that damned lovebite on her neck.

Why did he even care?

If Sprout had had a lovebite on her neck would he have even thought more of it other than the intial disgust?

Was this friendship? The concept was so foreign to him for so long he didn't even know. All he knew was that for the next several weeks, like a hormonal teenager, his body reacted to her presence quicker than his mind.

Every time she knocked on his door and looked up at him with those big bright eyes, he felt it. The lurch of his chest, the sinking in his gut.

He couldn't ignore it, the twitch of his jaw when he'd let his guard down and snuck glances at her neck. What was he hoping to find there anyway? More marks? Or was he hoping to find a blank canvas, the silk of her skin untouched, the possibilities of tracing his own lips down the curve of her neck-

No.

Her voice snapped him out of his tortured thoughts.

"Severus?" She spoke. "You alright?"

They were sitting in her office on a Friday night, a rather recent development in their "friendship" that Severus was unsure how he felt.

He blinked, met her gaze and then looked back at the fire, sipping his tea and putting his Occlumency shields back up, cursing himself at the fact he'd let them fall.

"Yes." He said, his voice low.

And that was when she did it, she touched him. Gently, as if he was something fragile, something delicate that could break under her soft fingertips. And Merlin, the feeling nearly made him gasp out loud. He tore his gaze from her hand placed on his left forearm and looked into her eyes for longer than he had in quite some time.

Her lips curled into a soft smile. "You know Severus.. I know these past few months have been chaotic, with the tournament, but I think you're dealing quite well."

Severus blinked. She didn't know of the darkening tattoo under her very fingertips. What did she know about what he was dealing with? What did she know about anything that he had ever dealt with? Who was she to say he was... doing well?

Why did a heat begin to grow in his lower abdomenon? Why did her touch feel heavier on that cursed mark? Why crave her to say it again?

She pulled her delicate touch away as if it was a fleeting, minute thing that had never meant to be anything more than what it was.

Friendship.

That night, Severus let the door to his chamber slam shut behind him. He detatched the cloak from his robes and hung it on the door, reaching his bedroom in a few quick strides and letting that door slam shut as well.

As soon as he was alone, truly alone, he sunk down on the bed.

He may not have been not the most emotionally intune, but he was intelligent. Severus was no fool to longing. He had, afterall, longed for his whole life. But the feeling possessing him now; the raw, burning in his chest when he looked at her, the way his chest fluttered..

It wasn't the longing he was afraid of. It was the hope.

The smile on her face as she looked at him, as if he was something as bright as she was... The gentle tone of her voice as she coaxed more and more information out of his guarded frame then he'd care to admit..

It was the hope that all these things were her desiring him.

Severus ran his hands through his hair. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he tried desperetely to ignore the restlessness inside him.

What was he doing? He was a man of control, a skilled Occlumens, able to lie straight to the face of the Dark Lord and live to tell the tale, and yet here he was, in the suffocating darkness of his lonely chamber that had never bothered him until now, feeling absolutely on fire.

Was that what it took to break him? A man of his talents reduced to a fluttering, pathetic mess at the mere, single touch of a pretty woman?

The heat in his lower abdomen was not foreign, but it was unwelcome all the less. Of course he knew sexual desire. It wasn't as if he hadn't indulged before.. Occasional, late nights where he had lost control.. Where he'd succumbed to the feeling of his right hand in his trousers. It was the shame afterwards, the disgust for himself that prevented him from making it a regular habit.

In fact, now that he thought of it... When was the last time he had allowed himself release?

Certainly it had been awhile since he felt such... Yearning. And certainly he'd never felt it to such degree before but thinking of it now, his head in his hands, Severus relised it had been years.

Years.

The pent up tension, the reemergence of past lust he thought he'd long buried, the sheer strength of it this time was enough to make him begin to pace in his room.

Breathing through gritted teeth, he paced in circles, running his hands through the strands of raven hair. This need was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Lust and hope combined was never something he'd experienced together.

Would those same lips that are always smiling at his sarcastic remarks kiss his? How would she taste? Would she kiss him softly, gently? Succumb to the power imbalences between them?

Or..

Would she kiss him hungrily? Would she take control, weaving her soft fingers through his hair and tugging? Would her lips whisper praises like the one she'd said that day?

Severus groaned, sitting back down on the bed. He'd never craved to be... taken like this. He'd had fantasies of course, things he thought of on the rare occasions he indulged in his need, all ideas of exercising the control he so often craved.

And yet now, feeling so powerless, so torn, it began to dawn on him that that's what he craved... To be freed from the guilt of his own desires. Have any sembelence of control taken so far from him he could do nothing but take it, take her.

He couldn't ignore the strain in his trousers. It had been so long...

He shifted his weight, not trusting his fraying control enough to get into proper sleepwear, he layed down on his back on top of the sheets, staring up at the ceiling and trying desperately to ignore the aching in his groin.

It'd been so.... long..

"No." He murmered, but the word came out weak.

No, he thought to himself, Absolutely not.

Severus rolled onto his side, trying desperetely just to close his eyes and beacon forth the sleep he knew wouldn't come. He knew deep down, he could just take a simple sleeping potion, it wouldn't be the first time.

But as he shifted, he felt the strain of his cock in his trousers brush against the firm matrress. Almost immediately his breath hitched. His slender fingers tightened around the messy sheets, his jaw clenched.

Every muscle in his tired body seemed to clench. It didn't help that all his mind could so was replay that moment over and over again. The weight of her hand on his forearm... The way she looked up at him so gently.. Her words... What was it she had said? He was handling it... Well?

She had praised him.

Pathetic. He thought, letting out a sharp exhale. A mere compliment she hadn't thought twice of was his undoing?

But the voice in the back of his mind, the one that had begun to threaten his control, whispered: "What if she had meant it? What if she had meant more?"

And it was this hope, this foolish hope he hadn't allowed himself to indulge in years that seemed to set him on fire.

He stared at the wall of his dark chamber. Even in the night of his room, he never felt safe from the invisible eyes of others, not even his own.

If he.. indulged... How could he look at himself in the mirror?

How could he look at her?

But the weight of her touch on his arm was a heavy burden his mind couldn't afford to ignore. Every shift of his weight on the bed sent a spark up his spine, every minute, tiny brush of the sheets against his cock made it throb.

Sleep.

Sleep would not find him. He laid completely still for what felt like an eternity, and yet the ache in his pants would not go away. It only seemed to grow stronger.

Frustrated, Severus rolled over to his stomach and immedietly let out a sharp hiss. The friction between his clothed groin and the mattress sent a bolt of pleasure up him he hadn't felt in years.

He'd forgotten what pleasure could feel like.

And for the first time in a long time, Severus acted without thinking. His hips rolled almost involuntarily against the mattress, a single, simple grinding motion that drew another ragged gasp from his lips.

Another jolt... Another roll of his hips...

Remembering the constant feeling of eyes on him, he buried his face in the pillow and stopped his movements all together.

What the fuck was he doing?

It wasn't just the burning desire, or the pleasure of friction he'd so long denied himself. It was the exhaustion. He was tired. Tired of being in control over everything in his life, day after day, year after year. Tired of fighting that clench in his gut that he felt everytime she looked up at him. Tired of refusing to be selfish.

He tore his head from the pillow, reaching both hands up to grasp the sheets around it.

"Fuck it." He whispered to himself.

He didn't fight the next wave of pleasure that crashed over him as he rolled his hips against the mattress again. The sigh that lleft his lips left so on his own accord. As if his whispered permission was enough for all reason to flee him, he began to grind his clothed erection against the firm mattress again, his movements still slow, but deliberate.

God.. It had been... So.... Long...

He began to pant, short, quick breaths coming out quickly as his movements picked up pace. The pleasure that each thrust sent through him could have been enough to pull him over the edge, but it wasn't enough for him.

He had to feel it... Just once, just this once and then he could go back to whatever sense of celibacy he had adopted over the years. Just for tonight, he had to feel it.

Severus propped himself up on one elbow and used his other hand to unbutton his trousers. His fingers hastly unzipped it, reaching into his boxers as if he unconciously feared his mind may deny himself again if he allowed it the time to.

The very second his fingers wrapped themselves around his cock he gasped. The sound was ragged, strained as he pulled himself out, pushing down his trousers and boxers the very least he could. The cold dungeon air of his bed chamber immediately contrasted against the warmth of his skin and even that simple sensation felt as though it had been amplified.

Without wasting a second, Severus tore his hand away to join his other in gripping the sheets and began to buck his bare erection against the mattress.

Another torn gasp. Another shudder. His fingers tightened their grip around the sheets, his hips rolling faster, feverishly in time with his panting.

"Fuck," He hissed, his head falling down against the pillow as he moved.

He could still feel it. Her touch on his left forearm.

And perhaps thats what drove his next action. It certainly wasn't reason, or shame, those things he had so long clung onto having abandoned him. He tossed, rolling over to his side and began to pump his cock with his left hand.

It wasn't his dominant hand, but he used it none the less. Shamelessly bucking his hips against his fist, his grip tight as he stroked himself desperately. Deep down he knew that the only thing on top that forearm in that moment was the Dark Mark, but the only thing he felt, was her hand.

He imagined her touch again. Her soft fingers on his clothed skin. Gods.. What would it feel like without any barriers whatsoever? What would it feel like to have her fingers trail up that arm, down his chest, his abdomen-

"Fuck," He grunted, louder this time as his grip on his cock tightened and his hips continued to buck against his hand, "Fuck."

With his eyes screwed shut, Severus pictured her eyes staring back up at him as she whispered more praises. What he would do to hear more of them... What he would do to coax those words from her lips, no, what he would do to make her moan them.. If he was inside her, if it was his cock, his movements, making her praise him...

His control snapped. In an instant he moved, thoughtless, completely slave to the desires he'd repressed for so long; he pushed himself up, bunching the sheets up and bringing them under his hips.

Without thinking, Severus took his cock in his right hand and lined it up with the crease of the rolled up sheets and pushed in.

"Shit!" He hissed, his head collapsing against them as he supported his weight on his left forearm. His other arm reached down to hold the sheets steady as he began to fuck them shamelessly.

The gasps that flew from his lips were sinfully loud, a string of curses and her name as he chased the release he'd denied himself for so long. He pictured her body beneath him, the possibilities of feeling so much more of her soft skin. How her walls would welcome him... Wet and warm around his cock, how those delicate hands would cling to him as she looked up at him with those bright eyes that seemed to only see good in him.

And stars, did he want to be good for her.

"You're doing so well, Severus," Her voice rang out in his mind as he screwed his eyes shut, "Feels so good..."

His breath coming in quick short gasps, his grip on the sheets tightened even further, his knuckles white. The headboard creeked against the stone wall with every thrust of his hips, but the only thing in his mind was her voice. That wretched, soft, voice..

"Severus!" She moaned in his mind. His name, on her lips. He was coaxing those moans. He was giving her that pleasure.

What would it feel like to give her more? What would it feel like to watch her face as she came around him? He'd read about sex, sure. Heard about it, in the boys dorms in school, from Lucius' wild adventures, from the Death Eaters. But what would it feel like to have her come for him? The tightening of her around him, the sound of his name on her lips as she gushed arou-

The thought was too much for him to bear. Soft, high whimpers flew from his quivering lips as he came into the sheets. The orgasm crashed over him seemingly out of nowhere fast enough that he wasn't prepared for it. His entire body shook, hips faltering and chest heaving as he thrusted sloppily into the sheets as he filled them with his cum.

Her name left his mouth like a broken prayer, chanted breathlessly, even as his thrusts slowed down and he stilled against the sheets.

Severus panted, sweat clinging to his forehead, his raven hair. For as long as he could, he lay completely still against the messy sheets, almost frightened to move and face what he had done.

When he finally did open his eyes, he pushed himself up on shaky arms to look down. The black sheets were painted white with his cum, glistening in the faint glow of the room.

Not bearing to look at it any longer, he reached for his wand and cleaned up the evidence. Tossing it to the side, he shoved his softening cock back in his trousers and collapsed on the once again clean sheets to stare at the ceiling.

Shame and guilt coursed through the back of his mind, but at the forefront of it all, was the absolute sheer exhaustion.

The prayer in his mind was only her name, the scripture only her praise. He drifted off begging, to who, he wasn't sure. But for the first time, in years, Severus slept peacefully.

~

well im sorry that was seven decades long. haven't yall had a pretty lady touch you once and then immediately gone feral?

no?

just me?

oh

~

taglist:

@graciesbow @niftysnazzy @plecosylvia @dark-st  @3hrysfiction-blog @ilovegrapes-world @darkvoidz @lexiitaylorrrr @theheartwants-what-itwants **@aperol-with-izzy **@herbologygremlin @kittenlittle24 @aleck-cross

[ikkosu]

psst. if you want, do you think you can write some headcanons about Skylynx from the TFP: Predacon's Rising movie? if not him, predaking would be fine too. need more love for the predacon bois

a/n : ahhh! Predacons! I love them 😭 but I haven’t watched Tfp in a while and predaking is the only one I’m familiar with. I think I went a little haywire on this,,,,

PREDAKING HEADCANNONS

you’re working with robots now, huh. er, autonomous sentient, lifeforms—say it right or shockwave will have your head— and, simply, you’re going to lose your itty bitty mind

the fact is this: you’re an archaeologist, stationed in the raging hot deserts of Nevada, as per your own request, for a find many people in your career would die for. that is, excavating a site that would definitely hit a Jack pot load of bones. can you believe that? prehistoric bones! imagine the things you could do with it. new species to discover, new ecosystems, new—

for unfortunate reasons you’re not disclosed with , it appears you wouldn’t be the only one dying for a find like that

in a desert, remote region in Nevada night had plunged the horizon. the crew had clocked out in their respective tents, and the flaps billowed as a cool breeze pass

”c’mon, kid, we can continue tommorow.” one of the guys said.

but you, the ever so persistent little idiot, were too preoccupied dusting this strange rock you’re certain is a bone,,,it’s a bone! to hell with whoever says it’s not. you’re a hundred percent certain it is,,,,you’re also guts deep below ground, dusty, sweaty ,,,and christ, who’s flaring this red light into your site, it’s hurting your eyes—

with a scowl, you swivel up — then , stoned up and cold like the bone you’re holding

oh, those are someones’s eyes

not very,,,mhn,,, not very friendly eyes, you see, eye? light bulb?

either ways, there’s too much purple, and the darkness had elevated it’s glaring stare and— you’re greeted with the sight of something swirling, yellow, as bright as the sun — is that a gun?!

you try to scream.

yeah, not very effective since claws had already sprung out to latch onto your body, yanking you out with its thumb against your lips, preventing you any ability to shout. hence, with the tried.

the creature, really you’re going to settle for robot, but you know it’s scientifically inaccurate given that it’s intelligence and emotional—

“it appears you have excavated the very piece I am looking for.” it hummed and you stilled, blinking, wide eyes and frantic. oh, god help me it can talk. its claws plucked the bone you were clutching close, ignoring your protesting hands trying to grab it back.

“most certainly logical, how did you find this?”

you’re going to die. you’re going to die. You’re going to die, but hey you replied anyways

"W-we take pictures above ground t-then scan the photos. S-sometimes we use remote sensing techniques when—“

“us that so? perhaps you can have some use with your hands then.”

— that’s how you find yourself in a laboratory, tinkering away on projects by his behest.

you’re not even sure if you’d call it one, given how many ethical protocols shockwave, he said his name was, had already breached. hell, the list can go on and on until it stacked up ‘till the height of the himalayas. you’re sure he doesn’t care. Why would he? He’s not even giving you proper safety gear.

at least, when you told him to he acted like it wasn’t a priority in the first place. and imagine this! there’s others like him too! others that are way too annoying to be considered a decepticon second in command

‘he’s a walking problem, purposely pestering you, disrupting your projects, calling you fleshie and how you’d look perfect as a red stain on the cave floor…

and then there’s this other problem,,,

“your fear for such a creature is illogical.” shockwave had brisked away without much of a glance when you tried to latch onto his pedes. “even your desperation to get away from it so. are you sure you wish to be left alone?”

“don’t be a prick! you can’t keep me with that thing forever!” you pointed at the glowering beast stalking you from behind the beams

“innacurate terminology.’’ He simply said. “a ‘thing’ would assume he’s an inanimate object.”

“ he’s a dragon!”

“innacurate, he’s a predacon.”

“I— what the hell even is that?!”

‘before you could plough a rock to his face you feel something hard, almost like tendrils, wrapping around your body

warm, misty air hissed at your face and you quivered, limp in their hold.

“do not make me repeat myself as I have always done so before." he said stiffly, "be gentle, predaking. I wouldn’t want my assistant to be damaged — a quest to find another is not an easy task.”

then turning on his heel, he left.

bastard had left you alone with this abomination.

Oh, joy.

You can’t get a sense of peace

everywhere you walk it follows. Why? You don’t know why. is it because you pat its head once and called it a good boy? Or that other time you tickled it's jaw and it purred? Though, in restropect you were a bit drunk off your ass ingesting Cybertronian booze by accident — as per Starscream request and amusement.

And now it won’t stop pestering you

You really wish it did.

He does this thing where, oh look it's waldo! And tackle you to ground, even thought you've told the dragon many times not to do that lest you're churned into a splatter of red on the surface

He'd also do this thing where he'd dangle you off the edge pretending to drop you,,,and when he does you're soaring towards the ground at god knows what mph before getting swooped to safety by the same dragon that tried to kill you

For a Predacon he's incredibly...sentient in a way it's aware of what he's doing most of the time

Feral cat behavior

A blurred line between black cat plotting to kill you and golden retriever,,,plotting to kill you with affection

And incredibly possessive at that

Talking to a vehicon? Oh, dear there you go again, hanging by his maw, shirt clamped between his teeth as he drags you away to that horrible, horrible cave

It's damp and it stinks! And he's nestling you like you're some egg desperately in need of protecting

And everytime you'd wrangle out of its— his— you're not even sure anymore — chest , the Predacon simply, with a pinch of his claws on your shirt, tugs you back into his embrace

Sometimes, if he's feeling mirthful he'll fall asleep with his fangdclamping down on a bit of your shirt to prevent you moving

"Let me go god damn it!"

And you know shockwave knows. He doesn't say a horse cobbler about it because it has it's uses

when Predaking decides havoc is what he needs on his agenda today shockwave will simply pluck you up from the ground and hold you to him like a candle

Most often than not the dragon will stare at you like dogs do when presented with a chew toy

and, technically, you are in some aspects

forget transportation, what better vehicle do you need when you can just hang from a dragon's maw as he brings you to the decepticon leader?

Starscream, hell even airachnid, would've exterminated you if not for your darling dragon by your side

and, to be honest, you did kind of grew fond of him. he'd take you on rides up in the air, and he'd nuzzled you close on stormy, cold days. Sometimes, you clean away the rust on his plating when you're free from Shockwave's obviously illegal work conditions

That's until he became a fucking robot

you didn't realize it was him at first, hearing a new rhythm of footfalls echoing across the cave, until the familiar paint scheme slapped you with the answers

What do you mean you're not a dragon this whole time?!?!?!?

you back away from him against the cave wall. you're not sure what to feel as he saunters towards you.

It ties between disappointment and embarrassment because did you really say good boy in a baby voice to a fucking man this whole time?;?-?-??&?

"Do not fear." His voice was far from sweet, god was it rough and deep,

It made your stomach do a 180 backflip and cracked it's head wide open

"Do not try to run."

when his talons curl around your waist, lifting you up to his eye level and the imperceptible smirk on his face is present, you knew you were fucked

"How obedient you are, my little pet."

[yourlocalcryptidbee]

⭐Lucifer Morningstar Headcanons

Headcannons about the lovely Lucifer Morningstar and the ways he acts with the even lovelier reader! Grab some snacks and a beverage, get comfy and enjoy <3

~1k words

GN-ish! Reader (mentions of hair long enough to braid that’s it) NOT proof read.

Dude hates crowds, like has a burning(get it? hellfire? burning…never mind) hatred for them, most of them anyways. Crowds, people in general, can’t seem to think for themselves when around him. It’s always ‘whatever you want, your majesty,’ ‘don’t let us stop you, your majesty’ ‘we’ll do whatever you ask, your Majesty’ It reminds him of Heaven and the councils, and the masses, and the sermons….the list goes on. It’s Groupthink on steroids. A complete echo chamber that a young Lucifer tried to break. That version of Lucifer stood up to the majority and lost everything because of it. Of course that man still can’t stand it, especially now that he’s on the other end of it. He wishes that sinners could at least try to have a personality around him, not just a bunch of spineless pushovers, ready to wait hand on foot in fear of being smote.

He likes to watch you, not in a creepy way! At least he hopes that it isn’t creepy to you. Simply put, Lucifer likes to see you there, see you take up space in his home. Although he isn’t apposed to helping cook breakfast or clean, he’d much rather just watch you do it. It’s a comfort thing for him, watching you physically move around and disturb his space reminds him that you’re real and not something his mind made up as a last ditch effort to fix his depression. In the beginning when you would sleep over at his house, Lucifer wouldn’t make his bed after you left. He’d just leave all the bunched up blankets and sheets exactly how you left them. It made him feel less lonely when he had to sleep by himself the next night.

Frivolous. Like, truly does not care how much he spends on shit. Couldn’t even try to think about caring. It doesn’t matter to him. Partly due to his pride, he’s the big dick in charge of hell! of course he has the money for that 24k gold and diamond encrusted something or other. Especially if he’s buying something for you or Charlie. Your wish is his command after all.

His house is sssssoooo dusty. After his divorce he had quarantined himself to his bedroom, bathroom and office. He never went anywhere else in his house, he would portal himself between the rooms when necessary so he didn’t even use the hallways! Which one could imagine would leave a substantial amount of dust EVERYWHERE. He had invited you to his home for the first time on a whim, feeling proud of himself for finally asking and had coincidently walked through his front door, only to cough from inhaling so much dust. That pride turned to horror as he realized he only had an hour to clean his house before you showed up. That man had never moved faster in his life. He was so focused, unfortunately sometimes on the wrong things, I mean why was he cleaning the support beams that were 15 feet high and attached to the ceiling and not, I don’t know, the kitchen!? 

Lucifer cannot throw things away. Just look how long he wore his wedding band after he and Lilith split. In fact, he still has kept the ring after getting together with you, though he’s not wearing it, Lucifer just couldn’t bring himself to get rid of something like that. It still lives in a nice box in the very back of his nightstand. This is even worse when it comes to gifts from either you or Charlie. It could be the stupidest thing and he’ll cherish it and hold onto it for eternity. All those rocks, broken crayons, leaves, and bottle caps that baby Charlie gave to him? All tucked away safely to this day, hell, sometimes he’ll look through it all as a little pick me up. Maybe this has to do with being physically thrown out of his home in heaven or maybe he just is sentimental, even Lucifer doesn’t know.

Loves having his wings be taken care of. It was hard after he fell from heaven, those beautiful white wings now a blood red? Not something he liked to look at. It reminds of what he failed to do and of the pain he created for all of humanity. Having you take care of that is so special to him. You take the time to preen his wings and make sure they’re perfect. One of the things that are constantly reminding him of his failure as an angel is just so easily accepted and loved by you. Something so small to you, means the world to him. You can look at something that symbolizes failure and still love it unconditionally because it’s Lucifer’s? Yeah, he loves it that you take care of him.

Will 1000% make dad jokes when he doesnt know what to say. It’s honestly adorable. This happened on multiple occasions when your relationship was still new. A conversation would finish and there’d be a lull or a pregnant pause, and then he’d just “what-what do you call a can opener that’s broken?”

.

.

.

“a can’t opener. ” 

Cue his quiet, stifled yet awkward laughter at his own joke and the distant groan from Charlie who has probably heard that a million times already.

Has a gift for braiding hair. Honestly, he’s pretty good at styling hair in general but allow him to braid your hair and his talent just shines through. His own hair has some length to it so he has in fact braided his own hair but come on, his (ex)wife and baby girl have some of the longest blonde hair in the underworld, of course, he knows what he’s doing. Doesn’t matter what style or where the braid originated, he can do it. The cherry on top is that when he’s combing out your hair beforehand, there isn’t a single tug. Could this be magic? Yes. Could this also be a skill carefully cultivated over the literal millennia he’s been alive? Also yes.

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

Hello there! I absolutely loved the Fellswap bros headcannons!Thankkiess so much!

How about headcannons for the murder trio (poly) w/ a reader who is really pure-hearted but is hemophobic (has fear of blood), like reader faints at the sight of small amount of blood. How's the skeles gonna react to that?

Short answer, they freak out and killer thinks you died- long answer, *gives you headcannos*

Featuring: Ted, Dust and Killer.

Masterlist

Impressive, such a pure person dating three of the most wanted murders of the multiverse...what led you to this darling?

It didn't really take much time for these three to realize you have a severe ear of blood. Especially when they tend to get very messy.

Ted and Killer freak out the moment you fall to the ground, Dust tries to calm them down while also freaking internally.

When you finally wake up, Killer's rolled up like a croissant on your lap, Ted's arms wrapped around your waist, both sleeping while Dust's next to you, looking into your eyes, observing your every move.

"....you're okay carinõ? You fainted earlier..."

And that's how they discovered you are hemophobic-

Killer immediately spits out a "Why the fuck didn't you warn us sonner!?" "Maybe because you usually pass by Nightmare's castle before coming here, so I thought it wouldn't be important." "Of course it's important!! I thought you were dead when you fainted!"

Ted's just relieved your okay, and that you didn't faint because of lack of food, he doesn't want to be like he was long ago.

After that they make sure to pass by Nightmare's castle everytime to clean themselves up before coming home, they don't want to faint again, especially because of them.

Ted's always next to you in the kitchen, not only because he likes to both cook and you, also because he wants to stay far away from Dust's and Killer's discussions.

"Now we.... Just need the.... Pasta..."

Ted says, the sound of boiling water fills the room as your hands grab the pasta from the cabinet, pouring it on the pot and covering it with the lid.

"Do you hear something dear?"

"...No.. must be... Your imagination.."

Of course he did hear, but he's with you to escape it, not to face it, Ted simply does not have the patience to handle those two idiots fighting because of stupid reasons.

"CABRON ERA MI CHAQUETA FAVORITA!"

"Hehehe! Not my fault Dusty~"

Bones are thrown in Killer's direction, who simply throws knives in return.

He knows they're gonna be at it until dinner's ready, so why bother? Enjoy his company and ignore those two, good thing skeletons can't bleed, right?

[elizais]

when their gf is a reader

includes: chuuya, dazai, ranpo warnings: none?? dividers by v6que

chuuya loved to spoil you to death, whether that be fancy dresses, expensive jewellery, makeup, books.. heavy on the last one! he knew your favourite genres, authors, book lengths, classics or new releases.. everything.

whilst chuuya himself found his interests piqued in poems, he knew after a long week you just wanted to go to the old bookshop tucked away in the corner of downtown yokohama. how the place stayed up and running? probably the both of you single-handedly paying it's rent from your visits.

you had been a frequent customer of said bookshop long before meeting chuuya. the dusty rooms with ladders to reach the highest shelves, tables covered with books yet to be sorted.. he felt honored to be allowed into the place you adored.

an old couple ran the place, they must have known you since you were little. they kept certain books aside for you because they knew that they would interest you.

"dating y/n comes with required reading. you're the first boyfriend to ever be introduced here though." the man joked when chuuya and he met. a swift pat on the back for your boyfriend. years had passed since then, and he even had gotten buried in a few books.

during one of your visits, chuuya saw a book in the sections you liked. "have you read this one, doll?" he asked, holding it out to you with his gloved hand, allowing you to take it from him.

he seemed incredibly pleased with his find, proud of the fact it checked all of your favourite boxes. "no, i don't think i have read this one yet.. thank you, chuuya!" you chimed, not having the heart to tell him you must have read that same book about 30 times before.

dazai is an awfully clever man, i don't see him being a reader though.

i'll do a couple of headcannons to get this across b4 the drabble

if you like reading, you can convince him to read some books

he mostly cuddles you while you read

lying on your shared sofa, with your back to osamu's chest, he was practically asleep as you lay on top of him.

you held your book by your chest, reading a tad slower incase osamu was also following along. his chin rested on your head, your hair acting as a cushion. how he wasn't bored of sitting in this silence? who knows. he knew that he cherished any time spent with you though.

he paid some attention to the array of words on the pages, knowing you would tell him about it later anyways. osamu's legs twisted around yours mindlessly, not doing anything in particular.

he stopped glancing at the book's contents and became completely immersed with making your legs move by lazily pushing them with his. you didn't even notice what he was doing, too focused on the book.

the closest comparable thing to what he was feeling was when you shake keys by a baby's line of sight, so silly yet somehow amusing.

due to your close proximity, he could tell exactly what you were feeling. this time, by the way your muscles just tensed up. you leaned forward ever so slightly - careful not to disturb him - and held the book closer.

he moved his hands to your cheeks and pinched them a little as you shut the book. "care to tell me what happened?" he asked, knowing you would explain in rigorous detail what happened in the few chapters you had read.

trying to get ranpo to understand the joys of reading was - to lightly put it - impossible. you can't blame him, given his superhuman iq, to get bored as he has figured everything out very quickly.

you were sat on the beanbag he had insisted you buy for your shared living room, ranpo getting sweets from the kitchen. you were on the last few pages of a murder mystery and didn't seem to understand why it happened.

and this was where having such a smart boyfriend was a blessing. ranpo walked back into the living room and saw you with eyebrows furrowed as you repeatedly read the last few pages.

"you don't understand why they done it?" he asked, mouth full of candies. you nodded, "i just don't know why their alibi held up for as long as it did! it doesn't make any sense! it's completely illogical!" you rambled as he walked over to you, taking the book out of your hands and reading the last few pages.

he skimmed over it, nodding as he went along.

"you're right. that alibi should have been laughed out of an investigation. doesn't take the world's best detective to figure that out!" he agreed, handing you a strawberry flavoured sweet. "for your troubles." he explained.

sorry 4 not posting recently!! i'd give a creative wattpad-esque excuse but i just dk what to write. next time i'll try to have a more fun excuse !! promise !!

[fight4me]

can you please insanely dump me with your Planes/Cars HCs thank you :]

been a minute but I'm answering now!

Since Dottie and Dusty share an initial (D) they will frequently give each other little trinkets that have a D on them. If they find any object with monogrammed initials they will give it to the other. They both have quite a random assortment of D's. Poor Chug feels a little left out.

Random info dumping of Skipper: Actual name is Douglas, oldest of nine siblings, (yes nine, the poor guy), basically never saw his father, his father was probably military too. Pretends to be annoyed, be impatient with Chug but secretly loves the dude. Has a really good photographic memory. Dusty routinely saw Skip ask for the morning paper, look at it, and then say he would read it later. When he never "read" it later Dusty asked Sparky what was up. Sparky explained he did read it later, just in his head.

SPARKY! Actually named Stephen. (I have got to stop naming things Steve. This is the third instance in two weeks.) Enjoyed roller skating when he was younger, and I might have him pick it back up in his older age. Aroace. It's confirmed he is too sweet for this world.

Dusty and the boyz: growing up during the hot summers Dusty and his bros were known to munch on ice to keep cool. So much so that their Mom decided to fill up popsicle molds with water. The result was a Water Popsicle™️. They were a huge hit in the Crophopper household. Upon reaching adulthood Dusty was shooketh to find out water was not a legitimate popsicle flavor. The poor little bean is still confused.

And I have made a water popsicle for research purposes.

[fancyfeathers]

Yandere Wriothesley encountering his escaped darling (normalized yandere AU)

Connecting with the Yandere Neuvillette and Wriothesley series- Yandere Neuvillette & Wriothesly’s darling thoughts, Nothing You Can Take From Me Was Worth Keeping , I’m Bad But Then Your No Prize Either , post story headcannons, Pankration ring rules, Heartbreaking comparisons, Wriothesley’s darling escaping

took inspiration from this scene from Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

Wriothesley’s darling escaped with the help of her mother to Natlan, having nothing but the clothes on her back, a bag of food, her vision, and her father’s guitar. There she encountered a group of traveling musicians, like her, some of them on the run, others just didn’t have a family outside of this chosen on, no where else to go. She joins them and becomes apart of this family, spending nights under the open sky, looking at the stars above as they sing around the camp fire and sleep by each other for warmth, and the days, traveling from town to town, and doing the only thing they know how to, preforming. With them she went from angry, stubborn, and depressed from when she was with the Duke to strong, joyful, and sassy in the best way possible with this family.

Meanwhile for the Duke of Meropide it has been years since he has seen his darling and it was draining on him. He missed her snide comments, he missed her voice, he missed how she would bite at his lips when he tried to kiss her, it was still her touch. While the Duke is draining away his darling is thriving, finding family, and perhaps even love as she opens her heart again to one of her band members, a cello player, and a brilliant young man. So while Sigewinne is worrying about Wriothesley’s health, his darling is miles away kissing another man who actually treats her like a person, who doesn’t kidnap her, but gives her freedom.

It has been years and call them stupid but their groups decides it’s time they explored the world outside of Natlan. So they set out from region to region, Mondstadt (stopping to say hello to the darling’s family who fled there after helping her escape) Liyue, Sumeru, and so on, until they reach Fontaine. The group agreed to only stay there a few days and only give one performance, specifically in one of the poorer parts of the city, as to not draw the attention of the wealthier crowd, they’ll earn the keep plus some and then leave. Then on the night of the performance the darling sits down with her new lover and tells him of the put in her stomach, this feeling she has of something horrible happening. He tells her it’s just nerves and not to worry but she makes him promise that is something does happen that he’ll take the rest of the crew and run, don’t look back.

At the same time as all this Wriothesley gets forced out by the head nurse to get out of the Fortress and to go get some fresh air. So he sets out into the Court of Fontaine and hears whispers as he goes to a tea parlor that a traveling band is passing through. The wealthy women he is listening to scoff at the idea, such lowlife they say, but Wriothesley has nothing to loose so he decides to go watch since it may take his mind off his missing darling.

The performance buzzing with people, families, couples, children, the old, men, women, it’s just a lively environment. Then he hears whispers about how they can wait to hear her sing again, and how it’s been so long since she left Fontaine, let alone preform. The is a feeling of hope in the duke’s mind at this, a foreign feeling to him now and one what he cannot place. He shakes those thoughts away as he stands in the back and watches…

That’s when his heart stopped…

It was her…

Her dusty skirt twirling as she stepped onto the old stage, guitar in hand. She spoke to the crowd in that charismatic manner that she did to everyone, everyone but him. She was talking to her home again, a place she hasn’t been in what feels like forever. He watched as she held her guitar and began to sing, oh the first time he had heard her sing since she taken to the fortress and it was beautiful. His eyes were fixed on her as she sang, the lyrics should be like knifes to him with their meaning but he didn’t care…

Then she saw him, his heart soared…

and her heart sank…

she wanted to vomit when she saw the Duke, wanted to run, to scream, but she couldn’t…

Wriothesley watched as she trembled on her words but pushed on with the song and she looked away from him, her gaze shifting to another man, the cello player beside her, stepping over and pausing her singing to lean over and kiss the musician on the cheek which made the crowd cheer. The Duke felt his blood boil, but he could only silently grit his teeth and watch, starting a scene here would cause a panic…

for now he would let her enjoy her last preformance…

and don’t worry she won’t be dragged to the fortress alone now…

no her whole group broke the law, crossing the boarder without documentation…

is that not a law? Don’t worry he’ll talk to the Iudex of Fontaine about that, the man who’s darling was the singer’s best friend, who she ran with in the beginning and who she would share the same fate with in the end.

[kirans-wonderland]

jjk pp headcannons

my friend and I thought this was a good idea to do late at night

cw: nsfw content, mdni

Yuji - 5.3, circumcised, overall pretty average, thicker at the base, takes time for him to learn “how to use it” with his partner, twitches/jumps very obviously, short refractory 

Megumi - 6, uncircumcised, thinner shaft with a thicker tip, more pointed head, 2 more prominent veins, tip turns more purplish, sensitive 

Inumaki - 5.1, circumcised, thinner, blush pink tip, curve upwards, longer refractory, the deep-sweet kind

Gojo - 7.5,  circumcised, grower, slender and pale with a more pointed red tip, slight curve to the right, it’s pretty, likes to pretend its not sensitive but he leaks easily, short refractory  

Geto - 7.2, circumcised..?, real thick pretty much the entire way to a tapered tip, has a piercing, prominent veins, breeder balls- anywaysssss, longer refractory   

Nanami - 6.5, uncircumcised..?, slightly thicker in the middle, rounder head, darker red tip, not that sensitive, it’s not super easy for him to get an erection

Yuta - 6.7, circumcised, a little thicker than average all around but heavy, curve downwards, more purpley red square-like tip  

Toji - 8.6 circumcised, thick and veiny, angry red pointed tip, very easy for him to get an erection but not as easy for him to finish 

Choso - 8, uncircumcised, slender with a tapered base, dusty pink tip, small piercing, twitches easily, curve upwards 

Sukuna - 9 (top one), 8.4 (bottom one), circumcised, thick, easy for him to get a reaction, angry red tips, top is more pointed and straight, bottom curves upwards, no refractory

[muppet-hell]

Hi that's me the reblog :)

1. Everyone read these hcs now they are the best

2. Like a fool I wrote everything in the tags so \/

NED NEDERLANDER HEADCANONS BECAUSE THAT ONE REBLOG SPARKED MY BRAIN. (these are all my personal headcanons and it's alright if you don't agree with them, I just like projecting onto silly little guys)

Ned has some form of neurodivergency. I fully believe in autistic Ned.

When nervous, he stims by squeezing his fingers. (I watched him do this in the movie and went "THAT'S WHAT I DO! HE JUST LIKE ME FOR REAL!")

When they were filming the in-movie-universe 'Three Amigos', he constantly complained about the sticky lipstick they had to wear. He liked the eyeliner, though.

IT WAS VERY COMMON FOR LUCKY AND DUSTY TO SING OR HUM TO HIM IF HE GOT OVERWHELMED IN A SITUATION. They'd also let him squeeze their hands if he needed to.

I fully believe Ned is bisexual or at least very comfortable with his sexuality being some form of fluid. (the 'my little buttercup' scene is still fresh in my mind.) This ALSO ties into my headcanon that Lucky is a gay man! Dusty is the token straight guy that's on thin ice.

Ned was shoved into show business when he was young. He doesn't like to think about those days though, particularly the parts with his parents.

He was homeless for awhile as a kid, until he began acting again. (It makes him wanting to start a foundation for homeless kids hit you a lot harder.) here's a cute one, finally-

He LOVES cats. If he were in modern times, he'd be the cat dad that has cat paw socks that match his cat's feets. He adores fluffy cats and those big cats with the big radar dish ears.

this is so long I am so sorry