#So u get a moth :D

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[moth-flowers]

moth-flowers #21

[jezebelblues]

(𝟏) 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 | 𝐇.𝐒 ⋆𐙚₊˚

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥.

𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐨𝐧, 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲? 𝐨𝐫, 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡, 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬.

𝐂𝐖: 18+ SERIES! age gap unspecified but everyone is legal, allusions to smut (in this part), fem!reader, innocent!reader, slight angst, not proof read.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 8.7k

❏ this is kinda just an introductory to this 🤨 but this also me testing the waters to see what kind of response it gets. i tried to give it a little more substance instead of just making it controversially young gf smut. but lmk if u only care for the smut fr. aiming for this to be a 3 parter possibly if anyone actually reads. okay bye love u

(be patient with me i do not have a writing schedule D: it’s just vibes over here)

there were things in life that demanded to be named. not as a matter of understanding, but as an act of survival. temptation. desire. guilt. words so small they barely held the weight of the emotions they described. words that felt inadequate against the reality of their presence, sharp-edged and infinite. harry had spent years pretending these things were separate—different flavors, distinct experiences—but now, in the quiet spaces between reason and instinct, he realized they were one and the same.

desire wasn’t the sweet fruit hanging low on the tree, waiting for him to pluck it. it was a persistent root that had grown into his bones, twisting through his ribs, wrapping around his heart. temptation wasn’t the serpent in the garden; it was the soil itself, fertile and dark, daring him to plant something reckless.

thou mayest. the illusion of freedom wrapped in the guise of agency. it was a promise of autonomy that demanded surrender. harry turned the phrase over in his mind like a stone, rough against his palm, smooth on the other side. it sounded noble, to choose. to be good, even when depravity tasted sweeter. but to choose implied that choice was ever truly his.

the idea unsettled him. if the end was written, if he was meant to fall, then what purpose was there in resisting? if the flame was always there, waiting for the moth, could he be blamed for burning?

but harry frowned at the notion, rejecting it like the apple beginning to rot. to believe it was inevitable was to strip himself of accountability. it was to call it fate instead of what it really was—a weakness he didn’t want to name aloud.

yet even as he denied inevitability, he could feel it breathing down his neck. the soft pull of gravity every time her eyes met his, wide and unguarded. her sweetness wasn’t like the syrupy fiction he had always known, too thick to be real. it was raw, unpolished, pure in its lack of pretense. he wanted to protect it, to shelter it, but how could he when his hands itched to touch it, to ruin it, to mark it as his?

guilt and desire were two sides of the same coin he couldn’t stop flipping. the choices felt infinite and yet singular, converging on her—the catalyst, the temptation, the embodiment of his undoing.

he tried not to touch her, not to look too long, but the world conspired against him. his name on her lips sounded like an offering. her laughter felt like a secret. the way she walked, talked, breathed—it all felt intentional, even though he knew it wasn’t. she was innocent of his thoughts. she had no idea the storm she brought to life in him.

and maybe that’s what made her so dangerous. because he had spent years building walls, convincing himself that control was his greatest virtue. but her presence felt like water—slowly eroding the stone, finding its way into the cracks he didn’t know existed.

he wanted to believe he had a choice. that he could walk away, untouched, untempted. but every step closer to her felt like destiny disguised as coincidence. her smile was a trap, but it was one he wanted to fall into, knowing full well there would be no escape.

harry thought of the apple in the garden. the lie it told about choice. the way it beckoned, its skin gleaming with the promise of sweetness. but the truth was, it wasn’t the apple that made him fall. it was the hunger that had always lived inside him.

thou mayest. the words tasted bitter now. because in the end, he knew he wouldn’t choose. he would only follow.

and maybe, he thought, that was its own kind of freedom.

— BOSTON

there were a thousand ways to love someone.

it wasn’t a single language. it was a mosaic of dialects, some of which he spoke fluently, others he fumbled through, and some he would never master. it came to him in whispers, in roaring applause, in soft apologies spoken under foreign moons. love, in its rawest forms, could be a sonnet sung aloud or the silence between breaths. it could bloom in the mundane, sprouting like ivy through the cracks of familiarity. but it could also unravel—untethered and wild—until it swallowed everything else whole.

now, though, it felt like a question he didn't know how to answer.

he had known it to be beautiful once, grand and uncompromising, like a symphony crashing through the walls of his chest. but now? now it felt softer, quieter. less a roar and more a whisper in the back of his mind, laced with something he couldn’t quite place.

april on the east coast was no season for romance. it was damp with promise, hesitant in its thaw. the skies hung low with slate-colored clouds, heavy but refusing rain, and the mornings were gray and cold enough to bite. it wasn’t exactly the kind of spring that painted postcards, but it had its own charm—the kind of charm that settled not in sight, but in sound. in the low hum of city life, the rush of trains cutting through tunnels, the steady rhythm of days repeating themselves.

this time, though, harry was restless.

juniper had left with a kiss on his cheek and a laugh in her voice, her belly round with new beginnings, her flight booked to london. “don’t let it go to your head,” she’d teased, pointing a playful finger at him. “just because you’re losing me doesn’t mean you’ll fall apart.”

he hadn’t fallen apart. not exactly.

but the void she left behind was wide, even if temporary, and it was her replacement who filled it.

YN arrived on a wednesday.

he had two days before the show. no real obligations until then, aside from this—meeting his new hair and makeup artist, seeing if she knew what she was doing before she had to work on him before a live performance.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he pushed open the door to his dressing room.

she was already there.

he paused for a fraction of a second, not expecting to see her yet. she stood near the vanity, back straight, hands clasped together in front of her, like she wasn’t sure what to do with them. on the counter beside her was a cup—one of those paper to-go cups, the kind that came from some overpriced café.

she turned when he entered, eyes widening slightly before she offered a small, polite smile.

“hi.” her voice was soft, a little hesitant. “i’m YN.”

he took a few steps inside, nodding once. “harry.”

she nodded back, exhaling quickly, like she was trying to steady herself. then, she gestured toward the cup.

“i got you a latte,” she started. “i—i wasn’t sure what you usually drink, but i thought it might be nice. to—y’know. start off on the right foot.”

he glanced at the cup, then at her.

she was nervous. he could see it in the way she shifted her weight slightly, in the way she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

it was a nice thought.

but he hadn’t touched dairy in years.

he didn’t say that, though. didn’t want to embarrass her. instead, he just gave her a small, appreciative nod.

he reached for it, offering a gentle smile. “thanks.”

she looked relieved when he took it, her smile relaxing a little.

harry held the cup, feeling the warmth of it against his palm. he could smell it, the sweetness of whatever syrup she’d probably had them put in. vanilla, maybe. something soft.

he set it down on the vanity without taking a sip.

YN didn’t seem to notice, already turning to grab her kit.

“so,” she breathed, glancing at him as she unzipped it, “juniper gave me some notes on what you like. she said you prefer a really natural look.”

harry nodded, lowering himself into the chair. “yeah. don’t like when it feels too heavy.”

“got it,” she murmured, more to herself than to him, before pulling out a few brushes.

he watched her in the mirror as she worked, as she moved with careful, practiced hands.

she was quiet at first, focused. then, after a minute, she glanced at him.

“have you always done your own hair?”

he blinked, caught slightly off guard. “what?”

“your hair,” she said, brushing her fingers lightly through the strands. “juniper said you’re pretty particular about it. that you usually style it yourself.”

he huffed a soft laugh. “yeah.”

she smiled a little, just a flicker, before returning her focus to her work.

harry swallowed.

this was fine.

just a job.

just another day before a show.

but the latte sat untouched on the counter, the scent of vanilla lingering in the air.

harry had a feeling she’d linger with it.

there was just something about her, something that felt unguarded. almost naive.

she wasn’t, not entirely—he learned that quickly. she had edges, sharp ones when needed, but she wielded them sparingly. the rest of the time, she was all soft hands and big eyes, a honeyed warmth that seeped into everything she touched.

and harry?

harry was careful not to touch her at all.

there was a distance he liked to keep, a careful line between himself and everyone else. not because he didn’t care—he cared more than he’d admit—but because he knew what could happen when he let someone too close.

still, she had a way of leaning past those lines. not intentionally, but like ivy, like roots. like something that simply grew.

by the time april had given way to may, harry found himself watching her more than he should.

she hummed when she worked, soft melodies that floated through the room like ghosts of songs she couldn’t name. she wrote everything down in a little notebook, scribbling furiously with a pen that always seemed to run out of ink at the worst times.

he’d caught her once, shaking it with a frustrated pout, her lips pressed together in concentration.

“you alright there?” he’d asked, the words slipping out before he could think better of it.

she’d blinked up at him, startled, and then laughed, “another losing battle with this pen.”

“you have t’tap it against your forehead twice.” he’d replied, biting back a smile.

her eyebrows furrowed, but she did it anyway—lightly tapping the clicky part against her head, glancing at harry before trying to write again.

of course it didn’t work. he was just messing with her—wanted to see if she fell for it, wanted to see if she’d listen.

it was easy to fall into moments like that with her.

too easy.

thou mayest. a soft hand offering an apple, a question left unanswered. but he had his own questions, ones that wrapped themselves around his throat and refused to let go.

there were a thousand ways to love someone, and harry had spent his life learning only a fraction of them. though sometimes he wondered if he’d been learning them for her.

— EDINBURGH

he had always thought of temptation as a slow build, like the simmering heat of a kettle left on the stove, a soft whistle at first that could grow into a shrieking insistence if ignored too long. but that night, in the quiet sprawl of his hotel suite, it didn’t simmer. it coiled.

the city welcomed them with a gray drizzle and jet lag that stuck to the skin like damp clothes. the flight over had been long, hours stretched taut over time zones and turbulence, and by the time he made it to the room, he wanted nothing more than to shed the weight of travel.

his suitcase lay half-open on the floor, a quiet surrender to the fatigue he couldn’t shake. a glass of water sat on the bedside table, untouched, condensation pooling beneath it. harry stretched out on the mattress, arms behind his head, eyes closed but nowhere near sleep. the city murmured beyond the window—a muted symphony of car horns and distant voices—and he let it play in the background.

his phone buzzed.

yn: did you get back to the hotel okay?

he smiled faintly at the screen, her name like a flame too warm to look at directly. his fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before he responded.

harry: all 10 fingers and toes. safe and sound.

harry: you get back okay?

the reply came almost instantly, her eagerness spilling into the space between them.

yn: mhmmm. i’m just brainstorming a few ideas for upcoming shows :) if you give me a penny, i’ll give you my thoughts.

a laugh huffed through his nose.

harry: consider a penny given, then.

he settled deeper into the bed, phone balanced in his hand as he waited. the seconds stretched into minutes, the screen dimming twice before the vibration returned. when it did, it wasn’t just one text, but a cascade—a waterfall of thoughts so uniquely hers that he could almost hear her voice speaking them aloud.

it was color theory, ideas layered with excitement, messily typed but earnest. how the blues of certain lighting might dull the warmth of his skin, or how curls framing his face might draw more focus to his eyes.

yn: does that make sense?

he hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

harry: absolutely. honored to work with such talent.

her suggestions were good—better than good, really. but it wasn’t the content that had his heart pacing against the walls of his chest. it was the way she thought of him in terms of details. the curve of his hair, the way light caught in his eyes. how she looked at him as if he were something to be fine-tuned, polished, perfected.

he set the phone down, staring at the darkened ceiling.

it wasn’t the first time he’d felt it, the pull of her presence. she had a way of moving through spaces as though she belonged in all of them. she was sharp where it mattered and soft everywhere else, a tangle of contradictions that didn’t feel contradictory at all.

he wasn’t blind to it, either—the closeness, the fleeting touches she didn’t seem to think twice about, the way her laughter lingered in rooms after she left them.

and yet, he couldn’t let himself fall. not into this.

his hand twitched toward the phone again. temptation was a voice now, low and insistent, curling in his gut. he thought of her in her room, probably cross-legged on the bed with her notebook splayed open and a pencil tucked behind her ear, her face alight with whatever new idea had struck her.

she was likely still wearing the hoodie from the plane, the one she had pulled over her knees to keep warm. she had smiled at him through the terminal, soft and shy, a blush touching her cheeks as she said goodnight.

his phone buzzed again.

yn: i think the messy curls could make your eyes look softer. i’m rambling, sorry! just a thought :)

it wasn’t fair, really. the way she existed so effortlessly, the way she lingered in his mind long after she’d left the room.

but temptation had a thousand faces, and tonight, it wore hers.

harry: never stop rambling.

— GLASGOW

it felt colder than it should have for may. the overcast sky hung low, gray and swollen, threatening rain that would inevitably come. harry didn’t mind it, though—he liked how the cold made his skin prickle, how it made the air feel cleaner when he breathed it in. but more than that, he liked how it kept everyone huddled indoors, tucked into the warmth of the stadium where soundchecks were already underway.

YN was perched on a stool near the mirrors, her knees pulled up just enough to keep her feet from dangling. she had been quiet all morning, focused, her delicate fingers meticulously painting tiny daisies onto the nail of his pinky.

“some steady hands there.”

she glanced up at him, and for a moment, her cheeks burned pink. “i have to. can’t mess up, right?”

“you could,” he mumbled, leaning forward slightly, his tone teasing. “might not mind.”

her lips twitched, barely concealing a smile, but she quickly ducked her head back down, letting her hair fall into her face like a curtain. it was something she did often, he noticed, as if she were hiding—not just from him but from something bigger.

he didn’t press. not yet.

“what color’s next?” he asked, tilting his head to look at the neat little bottles lined up on the counter.

“yellow,” she replied softly. “you said you wanted bright.”

“a sunshine yellow, then.” he watched her carefully as she reached for the polish, her fingers trembling ever so slightly before she steadied them again. “you’re sweet, you know that?”

her hand froze midair, and he swore he saw her breath hitch. she looked up at him then, her wide eyes meeting his, and he felt it again—that pull.

“what?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“you’re sweet,” he repeated, the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest of smirks. “makes me wonder if anyone’s ever told you that before.”

she blinked, her lashes fluttering like the wings of a moth caught too close to a flame. “i–i don’t know.”

his smile deepened, but there was no malice in it, only warmth. “well, you are. just thought you should know.”

YN turned her attention back to his nails, her head bowed so low now he could only see the crown of it. the pink flush on her cheeks had deepened, spreading to the tips of her ears.

he liked that. he liked how easily she reacted to him, how her softness made him feel like he could step closer without shattering her completely. but he also hated it, hated how it clawed at his resolve, making him forget all the reasons he’d told himself to stay away.

when she finished the daisies, she leaned back, examining her work with a satisfied little nod. “done.”

“you’re sure?” he asked, lifting his hand and turning it this way and that, letting the light catch the glossy polish.

“positive.”

“looks perfect,” he said, though this time he wasn’t teasing. “thank you.”

her lips parted, just slightly, like she wasn’t sure what to say.

before she could speak, the sharp click of the dressing room door broke the moment, and jeff stuck his head inside.

“five minutes, harry,” he called, already looking at his phone as he spoke. “got people waiting.”

he nodded, his expression unchanged, though the moment felt heavier now, disrupted by the intrusion. “right. cheers.”

jeff disappeared again, the door clicking shut behind him.

he stood, stretching his arms above his head, and caught the way YN watched him out of the corner of her eye before quickly looking away.

“i’ll get you something from the vending machine.” he mentioned casually, already fishing into his pocket for his wallet.

her head snapped up. “you don’t have to—”

“hush,” he interrupted, grinning now. he stepped closer, reaching for her hand, and put four quarters into her palm. “you’ll need this. unless y’plan on charming the machine into spitting one out for free.”

her fingers curled around the coins, and she blinked up at him, her lips parting as if to argue. but she didn’t. instead, she offered him a soft, grateful smile.

“thank you.”

he only hummed as she slipped the quarters into her pocket and hopped off the stool, glancing at him one last time before heading for the door. when she was gone, the room felt too still, the faint trace of her perfume lingering like an echo.

he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. his nails gleamed in the fluorescent light, the little daisies smiling up at him like they knew something he didn’t.

meanwhile, the vending machines would glow faintly at the far end of the hallway, their soft hum breaking the quiet. YN shuffled closer, her shoes padding lightly against the concrete floor.

but the faint creak of a door opening behind her made her pause, her head turning toward the sound.

he was there again, stepping into the hallway and heading the opposite direction.

harry moved with the kind of unhurried confidence that made it seem like the space around him belonged to him and him alone. his legs carried him in long strides, the sharp crimson of his trousers catching the dull overhead lights with every step. the matching red suspenders hung loose, swinging lazily at his sides, as though he’d been interrupted mid-motion while shrugging them up.

his shirt was unassuming—blue and striped, halfheartedly buttoned. the fabric clung to the broad line of his shoulders before softening at his waist, tucked neatly into his trousers. the buttons stopped low, of course, just enough to reveal the sharp dip of his collarbones and a teasing stretch of bare skin below.

YN’s eyes lingered longer than they should have, tracing the slope of his jaw, the faint stubble along his chin, the way the fabric shifted across his back when he moved. it was unfair, really, how tall he seemed here, how he could fill even the emptiest hallway with his presence.

he hadn’t noticed her yet. his head was down, focused, his mouth pressed into a line of mild concentration. whatever jeff had needed him for was probably important, judging by the speed of his stride.

but then, as though he’d sensed it, he looked up.

their eyes met briefly—just a flicker, but it was enough.

harry’s pace slowed for a fraction of a second, his brows lifting in faint recognition as his gaze settled on her. he didn’t smile, not fully, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he might’ve.

YN felt her stomach twist, that now-familiar warmth creeping up her neck and blooming across her cheeks. she wasn’t sure why she felt caught, like she’d been caught looking when she hadn’t meant to.

“get your cola yet?” his voice carried down the hall.

she managed to shake her head, “not yet.”

“better hurry, then,” he nodded toward her, resuming his stride. “press’ll be crawling through soon.”

he didn’t wait for her response, his figure already retreating, his strides long and effortless as he disappeared around the corner.

YN let out a slow, shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her fingers unclenching one by one. she glanced down at the quarters in her palm, their edges pressing faint imprints into her skin.

when she turned back to the vending machines, the glow seemed a little brighter, the hum a little louder, but the air in the hallway still felt heavy. she slid the coins into the slot one at a time, their metallic clinks echoing in her ears, and pressed the button for a coke.

her fingers closed around the bottle, and for a moment, she stood there, staring at the blurred reflection of herself in the machine’s plexiglass. her cheeks were still flushed, her heartbeat uneven—only harry could manage such a reaction without even doing anything.

he wasn’t even looking, she thought, shaking her head as she straightened up. he wasn’t even looking anymore. but it didn’t matter, not really. her stomach still fluttered like it always did.

she kept herself busy while harry was off handling whatever jeff had thrown his way. it was easy, most days—finding small things to do in the dressing room, small tasks that helped settle the nervous energy she always seemed to carry.

she tucked loose bits of makeup back into their designated compartments, straightened the mess of brushes and bottles that had accumulated along the counters. the quiet helped, too, though she occasionally paused, distracted by the faint voices coming from the small television mounted on the wall.

the scottish accents were thick and lilting, pulling her attention away entirely when she let herself linger too long. she’d tilt her head toward the screen, catching snippets of an old comedy show she didn’t recognize, before shaking herself out of it and returning to her task.

her coke was still cold against her palm, condensation slicking the skin of her fingers as she took small, absentminded sips. but when she ran out of things to tidy, out of ways to fill the silence, she left the dressing room, wandering through the backstage halls.

this was a habit of hers, especially in new places. she liked exploring, even if the halls all tended to look the same—narrow and gray, the faint hum of activity reverberating off the walls.

voices carried from somewhere distant, bouncing in ways that made it impossible to pinpoint their origin. she walked slowly, her free arm occasionally brushing against the rough cinderblock walls.

then she stopped.

her eyes caught on something hung up on the wall—a plaque with a faded photo and an inscription below it. she stepped closer, squinting to make out the worn text, her head tilting slightly as she read. it must’ve been a gift to the stadium years ago, a relic from a time before she was even born.

the faint hum of voices seemed to grow louder as she stared, but she didn’t move. her thoughts wandered as she read the plaque’s history, the drink cool in her hand, her sneakers shifting on concrete like she couldn’t bear to stand still.

but after a beat, she decided she’d seen enough.

she spun on her heel, ready to continue her aimless walk, but she bumped into something solid before she even realized she wasn’t alone.

“oh!” she gasped softly, jerking back slightly, enough to regain balance.

it wasn’t just something solid—it was someone.

harry.

his hand brushed against her shoulder instinctively, steadying her with a light touch that felt more deliberate than it probably was. he let out a breathy laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he glanced down at her.

“didn’t see y’there, sweetheart.”

the word hit her square in the chest—not the casual murmur of her name he usually used but something gentler, more pointed. he rarely called her that, maybe once every few days at most, and it always left her struggling to figure out if he meant anything by it.

she blinked up at him, still flustered, her heart kicking up in her ribs as she took a step back. he towered over her, as always, broad and imposing in such a narrow place. the suspenders she’d seen earlier were in place now, stretched over his shoulders, accentuating the sharp lines of his frame. and even though she’d only finished fixing his hair a short while ago, it already looked tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it more than once.

her cheeks heated, but she smiled anyway, nodding toward the plaque on the wall in an effort to distract herself. “was lookin’ at this.”

he followed her line of sight, the faint curve of his mouth lingering as he took a moment to glance it over. “from the old firm game,” he muttered, “back in ‘39.”

“oh.” she breathed, her eyes darting between him and the plaque.

“not to be confused with the old firm of ‘71,” he added, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked back at her fully.

YN’s eyebrows furrowed as she tilted her head, trying to place the significance.

he leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing hers lightly as he continued, “–where a bunch of people died.”

the words were said so casually that it took a second for them to register, and by the time they did, he was already walking off.

she gasped, following after him, “what do you mean?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. “people died here?”

he glanced back at her briefly, his expression unreadable, though his lips still carried the faintest hint of amusement. “mm-hmm.”

“well…what happened?” she pressed, quickening her pace to match his.

instead of answering, he slowed just enough to turn toward her, his hand reaching out with an ease that made her breath catch. without a word, he plucked the coke from her hand, his fingers brushing hers for the tiniest moment before he raised it to his lips.

“stadium disaster,” he said finally, his voice calm, ending with the quietest of sighs from his swallow.

he handed the bottle back to her with the same ease, his fingers grazing hers again as the cool glass settled back into her hand.

“that’s it?” she asked, incredulous. “just stadium disaster? that’s all you’re giving me?”

he glanced down at her, “you’ve got a phone, haven’t you?”

“well…” she paused, the faintest of frowns on her lips, “you can’t just drop a bomb on me ‘nd walk away.”

he chuckled, pushing open the door leading back toward another corridor. “can’t i?”

YN opened her mouth to argue, but the door clicked shut behind him, leaving her standing there in the middle of the hallway.

she frowned further, tipping the bottle back to finish the last swallow before tossing it into the recycling bin with a soft clink. without much thought, her feet carried her toward the door he had disappeared through, her curiosity prickling like static under her skin.

it wasn’t that the news upset her, though the thought of people dying here was unsettling, sure. it was more that this stadium—the one they were standing in right now, bustling with life and noise—had that kind of history to it. stadium disaster. how vague. it wasn’t much to go on, and her mind raced with questions she couldn’t quite tamp down.

was it safe for harry to perform here? was it haunted, for god’s sake? and how did he know about it so casually, like it was the kind of trivia everyone carried around in their back pocket? was it some bit of history he’d picked up while preparing for the tour? or—she glanced down the hall, chewing her lip—was he just messing with her?

she pushed through another set of doors, the muffled hum of activity on the other side growing louder as it swung shut behind her. the hallway was wider here, brighter, with distant voices overlapping in a way that made it hard to pinpoint where they came from.

her eyes scanned the space ahead, searching for that familiar figure. he wasn’t hard to spot—tall and broad, the opposite of waldo.

“harry! wait, please!”

he slowed, turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder. he smiled when he saw her, but he didn’t stop walking.

she huffed, her stride quickening against the floor as she caught up to him.

“s’not fair to tell me something crazy like that and leave me behind.”she mumbled, her voice low enough that only he could hear.

“like what?” he asked, feigning innocence as he glanced down at her.

“stadium disaster,” she repeated, rolling the words on her tongue like they didn’t make sense. “what does that even mean?”

he shrugged, his steps slowing slightly to match hers. “means what it sounds like, doesn’t it?”

“but thats not really an answer, though.”

he stopped then, turning to face her fully, and the sudden weight of his attention made her heart stutter.

“happened after a football match,” he said, his tone even, almost conversational. “old firm derby. too many people trying to leave at once—crush at the exit. sixty-six dead.”

“sixty-six.” she echoed.

he nodded, his expression steady, though his eyes softened slightly when they met hers.

“and…they still use the stadium?”

“course they do.” he shrugged again, slipping his hands into his pockets. “was decades ago. fixed it up after.”

“but how do you know all that?”

his lips twitched, just slightly, and for a moment, he looked almost sheepish. “read about it some time ago. thought it was interesting.”

“interesting.” she mocked, shaking her head, though her lips curved faintly into a smile.

“don’t look at me like that,” he mumbled, a teasing edge creeping into his voice. “you asked.”

she let out a soft huff, though the faint smile still tugging at her lips betrayed her. before she could think of a retort, harry turned and began walking again, and she followed, of course.

his casual indifference to the conversation left her buzzing with curiosity. she hesitated for a moment before blurting, “do you believe in ghosts?”

“ghosts?”

“yeah,” she nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “you said all those people died here. i don’t know—places like that feel like they’d…hold on to something, don’t you think?”

his lips curved into a faint smirk, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes, something thoughtful. “you think this place is haunted?”

she shrugged, looking ahead instead of at him. “maybe. you don’t?”

“not really.” he said simply, his tone light but firm. “don’t reckon i’ve seen enough to believe in all that.”

she frowned, glancing up at him again. “you’ve never had anything weird happen? not even on tour?”

“plenty of weird happens on tour,” he said with a low chuckle, his hand briefly brushing the suspenders at his chest as though adjusting them. “but nothing spooky. unless you count jeff turning into a ghost every time i ask him to sort something out.”

YN couldn’t help but laugh, the sound escaping her before she could stop it. “that doesn’t count, harry.”

“then no,” he replied, his voice calm but edged with amusement. “can’t say i’ve had the pleasure of being haunted. you?”

her smile faltered, her gaze dipping to the ground for a moment. “no, but…i don’t know. places like this make me wonder.”

he hummed low in his throat, tilting his head as if considering her words. “like we’re all just leaving little bits of ourselves behind.”

“yeah,” she said softly, nodding. “something like that.”

they lingered in the doorway, YN a bit unsure whether to turn back toward the dressing rooms or find something else to preoccupy herself with. this was where harry was supposed to disappear, where their brief exchange would end, and where she’d return to her usual wandering.

but he didn’t move just yet. instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. the motion was slow, his rings glinting faintly beneath the fluorescents.

“you haven’t eaten today?” he asked, though the tone of his voice wasn’t really a question. it was low and steady, more like a statement.

her lips pursed slightly as she tilted her head, giving the question more thought than she probably needed to.

“mm,” she hummed, narrowing her eyes playfully as if she were weighing the truth. “no—yes!” she corrected herself quickly, a sheepish smile breaking across her face. “yes. i had breakfast and a snack earlier.”

his lips twitched, the corner of his mouth lifting as if he were fighting the urge to smile. he didn’t say anything right away, just kept his eyes on her.

then, without a word, he pulled two twenties from his wallet, “here.”

YN blinked again, her eyes flicking between the money and his face, confusion blooming across her features. “what? no, harry, i can’t—”

“take it,” he interrupted gently, his voice soft but firm. “go get something decent. don’t let mitch con you into eating crisps f’dinner again.”

she hesitated, the weight of his gaze pressing on her as she chewed her bottom lip.

“seriously,” he added, a faint smile tugging at his mouth now. “you’ll be doing me a favor. don’t want you passing out on me, yeah?”

her cheeks flushed slightly at his words, but after another beat of hesitation, she finally reached out and took the money, her fingers brushing against his briefly as she did.

“thank you…again.”

he only hummed, shrugging his shoulders casually—as if he didn’t just hand her forty bucks for a measly lunch.

and then, just as she thought he might disappear into the room ahead, he glanced at her again, his green eyes steady and bright under the harsh lights.

“don’t wander too far.”

she smiled faintly, her fingers tightening around the money. “i won’t.”

— COVENTRY

her hands were slowly starting to become his favorite greeting.

the way they moved with a gentle rhythm, purposeful but soft, like they carried a melody he couldn’t quite place. it was the third week of the european leg, the air damp with the kind of lingering rain that clung to the skin and made hair curl at the edges. backstage was bustling, but in the quiet moments, when she flitted around him with a quiet focus, all harry could see were her hands.

small, unadorned, sweet.

she was touching up his face, her thumb dragging gently beneath his eye to smooth out a smudge. her breath smelled faintly of spearmint and the watermelon candy she had earlier. her eyes stayed fixed on the task, as if this moment was just another stitch in the fabric of her day. but for harry, it was a tear in the cloth.

she was too close. he could see the faintest sheen of her skin under the lights, the curve of her neck, the way her collarbones shifted as she moved.

lust wasn’t a stranger to him. it had been loud before, all-consuming. but this was different. this was quieter, heavier. something he was trying to smother, yet it refused to die.

he went cold that day. avoided her gaze, clenched his jaw, kept his hands tucked into his pockets like they might betray him.

but it only made her more thoughtful.

he saw her the next morning, her hair clipped loosely at the back of her head, strands falling lazily like they’d escaped on purpose. the change was subtle, but in the way she crafted herself into something sharper, more focused. the clipped hair gave him an undisturbed view of her neck, the hollow of her throat, the delicate slope of her shoulders.

he was undone.

a thousand images pressed against his mind, unwanted but insistent—his hands spanning the column of her throat, bruises painted like watercolored violets blooming along her collarbones—an evidence of his claim—the curve of her jaw tipped back as she let out a sound meant only for him.

harry forced himself to retreat again.

she thought it was her breath next.

he noticed how she chewed bright green gum in a way that drove him mad, like it was an absent habit, the piece of gum rolling in slow movements. sometimes her tongue would peek past her lips as though she were about to blow a bubble but stopped halfway through.

harry had to sit down once after that, shaking his head like he could dislodge the thoughts from his skull. he thought of how her pretty lips would look wrapped around his cock. he could almost feel it—the warmth, the wetness, the sound. he wondered if she’d be as quiet as she usually was, or if she’d scream his name loud enough for the entire stadium to be reminded of who they’re here to see.

and now, she was kneeling by his side backstage, her fingers curling into the hem of his trousers to fix the cuff.

she smiled softly as she worked, her eyes flicking up to meet his for the briefest moment.

“you’ll trip over these on stage if they aren’t fixed.”

he swallowed thickly, nodding, unable to form words. the thought of her on her knees, innocent and sweet, flooded his mind like a storm surge.

“there.” she sat back on her heels, her hands brushing against his ankles as she admired her work.

he looked at her, bathed in the golden backstage light, her hair still clipped back, her lips parted slightly as if waiting for his approval.

he clenched his fists.

the flow of time bent around her, her presence a rippling disturbance in the current.

harry shifted abruptly, muttering something about needing to check on mitch, and left the room without looking back.

— MANCHESTER

the hotel was hushed, its grandeur dimmed by the evening hour. soft light spilled from sconces along the walls, pooling against polished floors, while the faint hum of distant conversation echoed through the lobby. most of the crew had disappeared within minutes, doors clicking shut as they vanished into their respective rooms, leaving the space cavernous and still.

but not harry. and not YN.

her room wasn’t ready yet—something about cleaning and turnaround, an oversight that had left her standing at the front desk with an apologetic smile and her suitcase at her side.

“shouldn’t be more than half an hour,” the clerk had assured her, but YN had waved it off, her soft it’s fine laced with the kind of understanding that always made harry’s chest tighten.

instead of heading to his own room, he had lingered. he didn’t know why, or perhaps he did and simply didn’t want to acknowledge it. either way, he found himself sitting in a low-slung armchair in the lounge just off the lobby, the soft leather cool beneath his hands as he leaned back and stretched his legs out.

she sat across from him, perched delicately on the edge of a matching chair, her fingers fidgeting idly with the zipper of her bag.

his eyes flicked to her now and then, his eyes catching on the faint curve of her profile, the way her shoulders lifted slightly when she let out a quiet sigh. she didn’t seem restless, exactly—just waiting.

the room was sparsely furnished, its decor understated but rich. in the far corners, small tables stood with chessboards carved into their surfaces, their pieces arranged neatly in expectation.

it was YN who noticed them first, her head tilting slightly as her gaze lingered on the nearest table. after a moment, she rose from her chair, her movements unhurried as she approached the board. her fingers brushed lightly over the edge of the table, tracing the grooves of the squares as if testing their texture.

harry watched her from his seat, his elbow resting on the armrest as his hand brushed over his jaw.

“do you play?” she asked suddenly, her voice soft but carrying across the quiet room.

he smiled as he stood, unfolding himself from the chair with an ease that made the movement seem almost languid, and crossed the room to join her.

“a bit.”

“teach me?”

he nodded, pulling out a chair for her. “sit, then.”

he sat across from her after she settled, her fingers resting lightly against the edge of the table as she watched him reach for the pieces.

his hands moved with practiced ease, his rings catching the light as he adjusted the arrangement of the board. his fingers brushed against hers briefly when she leaned forward to help.

“these are pawns,” he said, his voice steady as he pointed to the row of small pieces. “move one square forward, except on the first turn—then it can be two.”

she nodded, her brows furrowing slightly as she leaned closer, her eyes following the path of his hand. his voice was calm, measured, and she found herself drawn to the rhythm of it, the way he spoke as if the game were a story he was unfolding just for her.

“bishops go diagonally,” he continued, sliding one across the board with a smooth motion. “rooks in straight lines. knights—well, they’re tricky. they move in an L shape.”

her lips curved into a small smile as she watched him demonstrate, the pieces clicking softly against the board.

“like this,” harry muttered, his fingers brushing against hers again as he nudged her hand toward the knight.

her breath caught faintly, though she didn’t pull away. instead, she let her fingers linger, her eyes flicking up to meet his for a brief, unguarded moment.

“got it?”

she nodded, her throat tightening as she swallowed the knot that had risen there.

“show me.” he encouraged, leaning back slightly but keeping his gaze steady on her. “go ahead.”

she hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the pawn in front of her as her concentration shifted onto harry—focusing on the way his hips bucked as he tried to get comfortable in his seat, the way his thighs spread apart, wide enough that his knees brushed against the legs of the table.

and it’s like he knew the reason why her cheeks flushed. he was still leaned back, his hands folded and resting against his belly as he watched her. just watched. his breathing was even, the tip of his tongue sliding between his lips as they part.

“you stuck?”

her eyes immediately snap back to the pawn. “no,” she murmured before she slid it forward.

the game moved slowly, each turn deliberate as he guided her through the motions. his voice stayed calm, patient, though the weight of his presence felt anything but.

she leaned forward more as the game progressed, her elbows resting on the table as she studied the board. harry mirrored her unconsciously, the space between them narrowing with every move.

her laughter broke the quiet at one point, soft and sweet, when her knight moved in the wrong direction and harry teased her gently about it. the sound lingered in the air, threading itself into the quiet like a melody, and harry found himself smiling despite the tension coiling in his chest.

she hesitated, her fingers hovering over a bishop as she tried to map out her next move. YN glanced up at him briefly, catching the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and quickly looked away.

“what?”

“nothing.” harry replied easily, though his smirk deepened.

“you’re doing that thing,” she said, her lips curving into a small pout.

“what thing?”

“that thing,” she repeated, her hand gesturing vaguely toward him. “the… i-know-something-you-don’t thing.”

he huffed a low laugh, shaking his head slightly. “m’not doing anything.”

her pout deepened, but she turned her focus back to the board. she moved her bishop with careful precision, setting it in place with a soft click before leaning back slightly, a triumphant smile blooming on her face.

“checkmate!”

he didn’t move at first. he simply blinked at the board, his lips twitching faintly as he leaned forward, his hands resting lightly on the edge of the table.

“is it now?”

YN’s smile faltered, her confidence wavering as she glanced back at the board, her eyes flicking over the pieces. she felt him lean closer, his presence warm and steady, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the space between them.

“you’ve got my king in a corner,” he muttered, his tone calm but edged with something almost teasing. “but…”

harry’s hand moved then, adjusting one of his knights. the piece landed with a firm click, the move clean and calculated.

“check.”

YN stared at the board, her lips parting slightly as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

“but—” she started, her voice trailing off as her eyes darted between the pieces.

he leaned back again, his smirk returning as he watched her. “close, though.”

her cheeks flushed, the warmth spreading up her neck as she let out a soft huff, her gaze dropping to the table. “thought i had it.”

he shrugged, already starting to put the pieces in its original places. “almost, sweetheart.” he breathed, eyes fixed on checkerboards of black and white. “s’just a part of learning, hm?”

she glanced up at him then, her eyes wide and uncertain, and he held her gaze for a moment longer than he should have.

before she could respond, the faint hum of footsteps drew their attention toward the desk. the clerk from earlier stood there, holding out a small keycard.

"miss YN?"

she blinked, startled for a moment before realizing what it meant. her room was ready.

he stood first, his movements unhurried as he straightened, his presence still commanding even in the small act of standing. he turned toward her, his hand brushing briefly against the back of her chair as he gestured toward the desk.

"guess that's your cue.”

she hesitated, glancing back at the chessboard, its pieces nearly in their original places, before rising to her feet. she smoothed her hands over her pants, her eyes flicking to his.

"thanks for staying with me.”

he nodded toward her, a small smile on his lips. “anytime.”

too close to the sun, he thought.

but god, wouldn’t she be worth falling for?

[septemberlikeastorm]

so insane that fandom didn't defang qimir/the stranger, the man did it to HIMSELF, just popped 'em out like halloween vampire fangs the SECOND the episode 5 fight scene was over

that clown went from horror movie slasher to rom-com hugh grant-type love interest as SOON as his feet touched the ground. those moth monsters flew him straight up to meet god who slapped him across the face & said "do you REALIZE you just met your wife?? get your SHIT together you handsome fucker"

& so he DID. try & name one other person who's out here doing it like him i d a r e y o u

[knavesflames]

hiii el! :D u may know me from ur messages a bit ago (PLS I SUCK AT USING TECHNOLOGY AND I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO ASK A QUESTION) but i wanted to ask for u to write maybe just some like cute morning arle fluff? sorry if it’s a bad ask 😞

also, could i be 🩵 anon?

Hi <3 of course you can! It is NOT a bad ask, I’ve been meaning to write a lil bit of fluff anyway. I was quite excited to write this :’) enjoy!!

Content: fluff, arlecchino is soft and tired

Word count: 1.1k

Utc <3

People say that once you get used to sleeping next to someone, it becomes impossible to sleep alone. You thought it would be the opposite. You enjoyed sleeping alone, preferred it, even. You like the space to move and roll around and you like to wrap the blankets around you to form you into a burrito-like shape. It became somewhat of a joke between friends that when you finally did find a partner, you’d end up sleeping in separate beds. Secretly, you agreed.

For Arlecchino, nobody assumed she’d even find a partner. The woman is so closed off with her feelings that one wonders if she even had any, if they died along with her best friend and Mother so many years ago. When the topic of relationships was brought up (seldom as it was to even get past the first two sentences- she would shut it down before anyone could get anything out of her), her excuses were dismissive, claims of work taking precedence over any interpersonal relationships, claims of the not-so-secret but somehow very-secret project the Fatui are working on, and her biggest excuse yet- the children. “The children need a stable figure to guide them as they grow. Relationships are most definitely not stable. It does not teach them how to fight. Sorrow and anger make you weak, yes, but I would argue that love makes you defenceless.” would be a sentence she uttered often.

Of course, that was not the only reason. Processing what had happened to the people close to her is something she neglected to do, and she does not need to be haunted further by yet another shadow, or even worse, another conscious body following her around the way Clervie had, whether as a manifestation of her bloodfire, or a manifestation of her conscience rearing its head when she had worked so hard to pretend it doesn’t exist. Love is not something she should get herself involved in, she has told herself time and time again. She has stared into the mirror an endless number of times, both as a newly appointed Father and more recently, when she finds herself alone. Her priority has always been the children, and she refused herself the privilege of living comfortably. Until you, obviously.

When you first began sleeping next to each other, you had been dating for a while. It took a while for her to even let you into her house. You seem to notice that her house has the faint smell of citrus. Lime, perhaps. You wonder where it comes from, but you assume it's some sort of air freshener. When you first began occasionally sleeping over, her touches were few and far between. Not in any malicious way, of course, but almost like she was restraining herself. You were too, in a way, not wanting to overstep any silent boundaries she had set. It was an awkward time.

Now, though, after a long period of time of getting her to open up, she clings to you like a moth to a flame. Case in point, this morning. You wake up to the soft light entering your room, filtered by the curtains covering the glass. The first thing you notice other than the light is a pair of strong, muscular arms wrapped around your middle, clutching you and keeping you close. You let your hand gently move across the marred skin, feeling each scar and muscle of the arm holding you so tightly. A face is buried into the back of your neck, gentle breath tickling the skin, and displacing the hair there. Arlecchino’s body is warm, warmer than the normal person's body would be due to the balefire that courses through her veins. You try (and fail) to escape from her grasp with a little wriggle, but her arms only pull you closer, her voice coming out hoarse and gravelly.

“Stay,” she mumbles into your hair. “It’s early. There isn’t a need to get ready for the day yet.”

“I have to, there’s so much to do today.” you yawn, twisting your body to face her. Your arms snake around her, one under her neck and one around her waist. There’s sleepiness in her dark eyes, and she looks up at you groggily. She looks vulnerable like this, and you think she’s almost smiling. Almost. She groans slightly as she stretches out, her muscles rippling as she does so. Arlecchino’s face buries back into you soon after, and her grip on you doesn’t loosen in the slightest. One of your hands comes to gently caress the waterfall of snow white hair, occasionally painted with black streaks (and the one red one she touches up every six weeks), massaging the scalp and gently scratching whenever she lets out a soft sigh.

“You smell good.”

“I just woke up, I’m not sure there’s much to smell.”

“That may be the point. You do not need to put on any fragrance, I enjoy the scent of you. Just you.”

“You say, as if you don’t fill your home with the scent of limes. Limes, of all things.”

“That is not what we are conversing about. We are conversing about you, not some citrus fruit.”

You can’t the small chuckle that seems to escape your lips. She’s so soft like this, you think, you can barely believe her status in the Fatui (you’d forget entirely if it wasn’t for the glint of the dagger placed deliberately on her nightstand. She says it’s for your protection- you know she had it there before, too, but now she has a reason to keep it there). Her nails, filed to perfection, trace circles on your back, and her free hand pulls your thigh over her hip, bringing you as close as you can possibly get.

“Must you go? Surely, you can push back any arrangements you have today and stay with me a little longer.”

“You know I can’t, and neither can you. Do you not have that meeting?”

“Yes. With some other Fatui, but none of them are worth my time when you’re here. They mean nothing to me. You mean everything.”

“That is why I'll be here tonight. You can hold me again.”

You find yourself reassuring her a lot that you won’t disappear. You don’t mind. Eventually, after five minutes of pretend bickering, you relent to ten more minutes before she drags herself out of bed. By the time she’s changed from her pyjamas into her usual suit, her hair brushed and pinned back into her signature ponytail, any trace of the sleepy, clingy Arlecchino is gone. What remains is a stoic, unreadable woman who lovingly kisses your forehead before she leaves, a slight plea in her voice when she tells you: “See you tonight.”

[sinning-23]

Publicity Pt.5

Warnings: smoking, y/n is a fucking throat goat, sexual content, swearing, awkward friends/crush to fuck buddies? Lovers? what the fuck even are we? 2D can't last lol

Heyyyy sooo i know im slackong but its because I'm planning for the next fee moths of my life lol I'm moving and going to japan about 2/3 months apart for I'm trying to save/raise money and get my shit together!

ANYWAY! I hope you all enjoy! You finally get some smut and I get to dip into my specialty...sin >:)

ENJOY!

Link to:

Publicity Introduction

Publicity Pt.1 Publicity Pt.2 Publicity Pt.3 Publicity Pt.4

PUBLICITY PT 6 UP NOW!!!!

Sleep was avoiding you both at this point, faint giggles filling the studio once you two had finished recording. It's like..the tension just melted away. Was there even any to begin with? Perhaps you'd imagined it all.

That was beside the point.

What you wanted more than anything in the whole world right now....

"D, you smoke?" You question, seemingly more of a test than anything.

Yeah, you knew cigarettes were his thing, but was Miss Mary Jane?

He tilts his head, a grin ever present on his face.

"You offerin'?" He asks, an excited glint in those pitch black eyes.

Annnd that's how you two ended up back in his room, something you didn't think would happen again considering the last time but hey!

Guess there were no real hard feelings after all. You're sitting cross-legged, eyes narrow in on the cute little pre-roll between your lips. Your lighter clicks once, twice, three times.

Nothing.

An irritated grunt pushes past your lips as 2D only chuckles at your struggle, sitting the same way in front of you, his back resting against the bedframe though.

"Need a ligh'?" He asks, accent thick as you tilt you head in debate.

*click*

sparks but no flame

*click* *click*

more sparks

*click* *click* *cli-*

"Shit, yes please." You sigh, a slight laugh leaving your lips.

The pre-roll is still sitting between your lips and he leans forward, guiding your chin up with his index finger. You hold back a choked whine, almost reflex to lean into his touch.

His eyes are just as focuses as yours were prior, the flame licking the end of it so gently as smoke begins to rise from the point of contact. You inhale, looking at him from under your lashes.

"Thanks."

Is all you can manage, the smoke you'd just inhaled pouring from your lips like an inscent fountain.

He takes his chance to pluck from your mouth, inhaling where you once had in an indirect kiss. And for some reason it makes your head spin...nah maybe it was just the weed. He inhales through his mouth, exhaling through his nose just before passing it back to you.

That was kinda hot-

The room is getting a bit hazy, with little air circulation his space would be hotboxed in no time. He reaches over, tugging a bin full of DVD cases from under his bed.

"Fancy a film?" He offers, your mind already hazy and overconfident as the reply sens shivers down the blue-ette's spine.

"Watch one or make one?" You tease, inhaling again, leaving back against your palms with a smirk.

"U-Uh- we, well I-" He stutters out, stopping when your outstretched, blunt-clad hand extended towards him.

"I'm teasing, whatcha got?" You chuckle, seeing his face flush red.

Part of you knows you weren't really joking. Just blame it on the weed.

In the bin, which is currently in 2D's grip were dozens of different movies, all of which seemed to be horror slasher thriller flicks. You peruse, grabbing a couple of cases, and reading the titles out loud.

"28 days later, classic. Uhhh-oh! Train to Busan. World War Z...Resident Evil. Nice, a bit of a zombie movie fan?" You grin, seeing the slight embarrassment on his face.

"W-Well yeah I like 'em" He explains, eyeing one cover specifically.

You reach for it, observing the picture with a slight not of approval.

"Evil Dead?"

He nods as you immediately move to insert the disc into the DVD player. What you had somewhat disregarded was the fact that you had to do sort of a bend and arch to even get to the DVD player and 2D just got a face-full of ass.

He clears his throat, trying his best to look away and failing. The TV static comes to life, masking it.

Damn it you had to have been doing that on purpose. He blames the weed for the sudden hard on.

And he was right, it was maybe a little bit on purpose.

You rest your weight on your elbows for a second, the still lit joint smoking away between your manicured fingertips. Did DVD player buttons have to be this damn small?

"D, got a remote?" You ask with a grin, passing it back to him seeing as you were a pinch preoccupied, your tongue slightly poking past your glossy lips.

He takes it, hoping this next hit would calm his nerves. It doesn't.

"Yeah, its ova' ‘ere on the nigh'stand" He mentally curses himself for the way his accent has noticeably thickened and lisp had poked through.

Being high did that to him though, didn't feel like he had to force himself to speak a specific way. Or maybe you did that? You’d never said anything about it. If anything, from what you’d let slip, you thought it was-

"Cute." You hum, sitting back against the pillows with him, not before flicking the lamp off at this nightstand.

It’s dark now, still hazy though as the movie plays and illuminates you both with dark blue light. He passes the dwindling joint back to you, your knees dealing closer to your chest as your inhale again, ghosting it this time with a grin at its success.

“You know how to ghost?” You question, passing it back as he smiles lazily.

“No’ really. I can french pretty damn good” He explains, demonstrating as the smoke glides through the gap in his smile.

“That’s so cool.” You giggle, taking it back from him.

You stretch, head about as foggy and relaxed as the room is. You opt to lay your stomach against the bed, rolling over briefly onto your back to gaze at 2D at the opposite end.

He's locked into the screen, his eyes reflecting the dark lighting of the screen as his lips part slightly, He's reciting each line, and it's adorable. It takes a moment but he eventually moves his gaze to your sprawled-out frame.

His eyes are low, seemingly taking you in, trailing from your eyes, to your lips, down the dip of your neck and collar bone, chest-

"Look like you're gonna eat me." You joke with a slight smirk.

Being high always did make you more bold. Easier to blame it on the substance if anything.

"Like a zombie?" He adds, leaning foreward, expression blank. His arms reach outward and your eyes widen. Before you could move away he's already gripping at your ankles, much like the undead would anyway.

You can't help the giggle that rises past your lips as he groans and squeezes your sides, a yelp leaving your lips in your fit of laughter.

With your thrashing, you manage to grip his shoulders, giggles dying down as you make direct eye contact. The room is still hazy, and so if your head, making your heartbeat sound so much louder in your ears

You swallow hard, your hands moving upwards, one now at the base of his neck while the other cups his cheek. He leans into it.

"Sooo, what is this?" You whisper, his knee parting your legs as his hands find a place on either side of your head.

"Dunno. 'know I've got feelin's for you." He explains, taking a breath to try and explain himself.

"I-I liked you when we was at the airpor'..a-an’ when you smacked your face on the dash. And when you yelled at Murdoc. I've never seen anyone besides Noodle and Russ do tha'."

You let out a faint laugh, fingers twirling his hair into little spirals.

"And when you was in my room.”

You’re back at square one now, staring deeply into one another’s eyes. Fearing you'd drown in the abyss of black you tune your head, nose scrunching as you try to control your heart. You can hear it pounding in your ears and each time it beats against your rib cage you fear it’ll burst.

His knee moves up, the action pulling a strained and faint whimper from your lips.

“Even when you thought’ I didn’t know you was snooping’ around in here.” He huffs with a faint gap-toothed smile.

You return it, your thigh now brushing his, your leg locking around his calf.

"Why'd you really leave tha' first time.?" he asks, almost unsure if he's even allowed to question your motives.

You swallow, embarrassment filling your chest. Sitting up on your elbows, he adjusts, moving back just a pinch so your foreheads from crashing into one another.

"I didn't want to mess anything up. I-I didn't want you to think I was...I don't know. I was scared that if we did...fuck that night things would be awkward and I'd ruin everything."

He's gazing down at you, but you wouldn't have seen it since your trying to avoid eye contact at the moment.

" I..I really like being around you Stu. I know its been awkward but I havent felt this inspired and intrigued in a long time." You explain, struggling to get the words out.

You sigh, looking guage to his reaction only to find two big, black, puppy god eyes staring right back at you.

"Darlin'"

God the way he says it. Yeah, Murdoc had called you that a couple times, mainly condescending and demeaning...but him? Its like it was meant for you and you alone, like he poured all his affection into one form of adoration.

It's in the way he guides you to sit up with him, your bodies fitting together like a puzzle. It's in his slightly cold hands cupping your face, thumb caressing your cheek.

The high had come down. This was nothing but pure intentions uninfluenced but any substance.

"Yes.." You whisper, your palms restign on his thighs.

"Please tell me you won' run away this time...you could never ruin this, I can promise you tha'." He reassures, one hand traveling to your waist, tugging you impossibly closer.

"Promise?" You whisper, mouth meeting halfway as he moves in unison with your body.

The film is long forgotten, whatever background noise it was meant to provide is far too low as your huffs and pants grow louder. It's not so much a competition as to who gets who undressed first but a testy dance.

His fingers glide under your shirt and brush against the skin of your stomach. Your own dip just behind his waistband. It's a familiar feeling, the tension stronger than your first semi-sexual encounter.

In his quest to rid you of your shirt, his mouth manages to work its way to your neck, hot, opened mouth kissed push against your pulse points, the softness suddenly overpowered with a hard suck.

'F-Fuck." You swear, tilting your head back to give him more access.

He hums against your exposed neck, successfully lifting your top up enough for it to rest, rolled up against your collarbone.

"Bite this." He instructs, lifting the bit of fabric to your lips. He's got you essentially holding your shirt between your teeth so we can-

Your nipples harden at his cold touch, the pads of his thumbs pressing deliciously against eh buds before he pops the front clasp, your boobs recoiling at the loss of support.

"Pretty lil' thing you are." He sighs, leaning forward to wrap his lips around one.

The warmth from his mouth shoots shivers down your spine, body arching into each of his touches. His left hand squeezes, tugs, and attends to your left side while his mouth works at the other, then he swaps once he's satisfied. For someone who acted like he had nooo idea how vulgar his lyrics were, he sure isn't as innocent as he'd led on.

He's skilled, pulling you onto his lap with ease, still latched to your chest before he kisses his way back up to your lips. He swallows up your whimpers, caressing the back of your head before rolling his hips up

"Y-You really know what youre doing." You pant, cut up immedetly by a moan when he slips his fingers past your bottoms, middle and ring finger just barely grazing your clit.

"Why woul'nt I?" He teases, voice somehow huskier as he watches you twitch at the slight movement of his fingers.

Your head falls forward when he pushes past your lips, hissing at the wetness

"Oh you need this bad, don' you?" He asks, the hand that was once at your waist coming up to your throat, guiding your jaw to make you look at him.

His face is flushed red in the faint lighting, eyes blown wide.

"How bad you need this love?" He asks, finally pushing two fingers into your heat, your head falling forward, only for him to guide you back to look at him.

"I know you can use your words. How bad?" He hums, his palm just barely smacking against your clit as his fingers curl in, upward, and out. Over and over and over,

"P-Please.' You don't even know what you're begging for at this point.

More friction? More fingers,? To cum? You needed to cum. But he's keeping you on the edge, literally wrapped around his fingers. You roll your hips, trying anything to get more and he knows it.

How he's keeping it together and not tearing his own band off just to fill you up is beyond him. All he knows is that the more noise you make, the more he wants to work your body to make new ones. High pitches, groans, whimpers, yelps, pleads of mercy as you get off on his fingers. He needs to hear it all.

"You close, aren't you?" He hums, seeing you nod, eyebrows knitted together, eyes squeezed as you focus on your orgasm.

Your hands grip his shoulders and he can tell you're close with the way you squeeze his fingers. And just before you can announce your impending orgasm, he pulls away from you. You can't help the desperate whine that leaves you lips and all he does is smirk.

"W-What? No no please." You whimper, eyes screwed shut.

Fine, two could play the edging game if that's what he wanted. You press your lips to his briefly, soon trailing down his throat much like how he had done with you, only this time, you don't bother to tug his shirt off. You're reaching for the prize beneath his waistband.

He doesn't protest, holding his breath almost. You can see the tent that had formed, once again..a fuckin monster under that fabric.

You suck in a breath, palming him for a moment as he lets out a low groan. Anticipation eats away at you as you finally pull it out. There's a moment of silence and your mouth waters at the thought of having it on your tongue. It's firm in your hand, warm, and twitching slightly at the contact.

It's got a bit of an upward curve, not too thick, but what he lacks in girth he definitely makes up for in length. He's tall as fuck so duh? Right? The tip is faintly tinted red, and two to three thick veins run from base to tip. He's leaking precum, giving it a slight glossy shine. Only more spills out when you give a test squeeze.

"E-Everthin' okay?" He asks warily, your silence making him panic.

How long had you been staring and analyzing this man's dick in silence?!

"Huh? O-Oh no everything....just, fuck it's pretty-" You huff, lowering yourself to come face to face with it.

You part your lips, sticking your tongue out to lick from base to tip, taking him into your mouth.

"Fuckkkk me." He whimpers, trying his best to make space for you between his legs.

Yeah, it had been a while but you were sure your throat could remember its previous training. You roll your tongue out your mouth, testing the way he hits the back of your throat, your sloppy and noisy slurping only further fueling your ministrations.

2D is melting under you, sweating, moaning, and whimpering with each bob of your head, his fingers fighting to not thread into your scalp and grip.

"Too much, won' last- wa- oh fuck wait love-" he beggs, your movements slowing, you glance up at him from under thick lashes, grinding sinisterly at his flushed and lust-filled expression.

It's agonizing how slowly you release him, sucking all the way up until you pull away with a sloppy 'pop'.

"Can I?” He glances down with his hands at your hips now. Your body heats almost instantly.

"Shag?" You chuckle, seeing him turn his head in embarrassment at the term.

"Well when you say i' like tha'!" He groans, hardened length poking your thigh.

"Sorry sorry. But seriously, please? I wanna feel you..." You admit, already working on lining him up between your slippery wet folds.

He sighs at the feeling, pulling your hips forward as his tip slides back and forth between you. It's too much and not enough all at once.

And soon, he pushes into you, your bodies impossibly close. All you can do is whine upon entrance, the stretch is so perfect. He freezes up, squeezing your hips tighter now, his fingers almost turning white. You relish in the sting.

"Y-You okay?" You cry, feeling him hit spots you didn't even know were possible.

Guess it pays to have a monster cock-

Something's up though, Stu growing awfully quiet.

"I-I can't move if I do I'll...I'll". He's struggling to explain himself, face beet red as he takes slow steady breaths.

Your eyes widen, involuntarily squeezing down at the confession. That quick? How long had it been for him? Gorilla grip much??

"W-Wait don't squeeze I-" He's really trying now, eyes screwed shut in focus.

"I really wanna do this with you y/n, but if you move I know I'll be done for sure." He explains, your lips pressing sweetly to his temple.

"It's fine, there'll be other times." You encourage, more silently praying that this wouldn't be the first and final time you get to be like this with him.

And his eyes light up, like an eager acceptance of the invitation. You roll your hips down, the feeling pulling noises from each of you as he practically whimpers against your shoulder.

"Stu, baby it's okay. I promise." You encourage, wanting nothing more than to feel him fill you up.

He huffs out a breathy sigh, sliding out halfway out before thrusting back in. He picks up his pace for about 2 seconds and in the 5th thrust, he comes undone, not before completely pulling out of you, and just in the nick of time.

"Fuck fuck fuck I-I'm sorry, you feel so good love," He whines, still riding out his orgasm, the warmth from his load coating your thighs.

He's still apologizing, spurts of hot white leaking from his tip as you run your fingers through his hair with a soft smile.

"You okay?" You ask, seeing him nod faintly, a bit exhausted. The movie is still playing, the credits are rolling now as you search the numbers on his nightstand alarm clock for an indication of how late it is.

He massages the spot he had gripped so viciously before, using a discarded t-shirt of his to wipe your thighs clean. As your positioned atop him, your eyes meet, and just before the night ends,

He kisses you like you're oxygen and he's desperate to breathe.

A?N: GUYSSS You finally got some smut outta mee! I hope you enjoyed this chapter because y/n cant catch a break and Pt.6 is gon get mESSYYYYY! i hope the 5 other 2d fans are enjoying this! See you next chapter :D

ps. sorry for any spelling errors!

[jjwolves]

꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷ Everyday, I Go To Sleep ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

What: 5 Mitu X Reader Headcanons (Romantic)

Who: Mitu, from ENA Dream BBQ by Joel G

How Much: ~500 words; reading time ~2 mins

Images: Top -> Joel G; Divider -> @cafekitsune

Warnings: Mention of Blood(?)

Genre: Romance

† Mitu’s never really had someone else in her life before, so she felt a connection with you when you took part in her game. “You’re on F-I-R-E tonight! Kyahaha!” “Well, I’ve always liked word games,” you said. She smugly but fondly poked you in the forehead. Normally her game was life and death, and it felt like it. She liked the high risk involved–it gave her a real R-U-S-H. But with you around, it felt more like settling into a chair for game night, or something. C-O-Z-Y!

† Mitu is always looking for energy to burn off and for something to do. When you’re out with her, she zips around like a pencil passing through letters on a wordsearch. You could be in the middle of talking to someone when Mitu sees something that captures her attention, at which point she’ll whisk you away like a spider descending on a fly and sit you in front of whatever she wants you to see. “See!? I T-O-L-D you it was C-O-O-L! Don’t be such a C-R-A-B!”

† You help her with her game because it’s fun, but beyond that it’s simply about keeping her safe. “Can you help me get this jar open? I need the moths inside it,” you say, to which she replies, “I suppose I can take a C-R-A-C… er–oh boy.” She started to look a little blue. “Oh! Oh! You mean you’ll take a S-T-A-B at it?” “Y-yes! A S-T-A-B at it. Phew…” If she’s flailing and you help her before she gets “punished”, she’s grateful for the help but she also gets a little miffed. She takes great pride in her death-defying game skills, so no offense, but it’s like taking a knife-juggler’s blades and giving them rubber balls instead. She feels like you’re handling her with kiddie gloves. “I know I should T-H-A-N-K you for the H-A-N-D, but this is MY--

G-A-M-E! I’m no B-A-B-Y!”

† Mitu is very physically affectionate. She’ll surprise you by swinging from the ceiling like an axe and kissing you. This occasionally knocks you over. She’ll pick you up and twirl you around in the air, joking about letting you F-A-L-L, but she’d never really do that. She’ll let you grab her hands and hang off of her, like a zipline! She’ll quietly descend behind you and squeeze you with a bone-crushing hug. “Mitu… T-too tight.” “Can’t H-E-L-P it! I’m H-E-A-D over H-E-E-L for you! Kyahakyaha!”

† Mitu likes to tease you in lots of little ways. One of her go-tos is shoving her way into whatever you're doing and making you arbitrarily choose between two things. You can’t watch whatever movie you want on your own; you have to watch one of these two movies with her. The lunch you thought you were going to have at home? You’re having it with Mitu, it turns out, because she’s here now. And you have to choose between llama meat and a potato. You asked her why you had to choose one, to which she answered, or rather didn’t answer your question at all. “Can’t H-A-V-E everything! Sacrifices to be M-A-D-E, you know? Blood to G-U-S-H. Veins to L-E-A-K. Yuckyyy. But true.”

[thebunnednun]

Ahoy! U write about Shanks? Our sweet red-haired daddy? I just found out Shanks is younger than Katakuri I'm shocked

Dancing Under the Stars Red-Haired Shanks X Bar-Maid! Reader

Dear God, I have never written this man as love interest before, I am so sorry if he's outta character!

I hope you didn't mind the long wait! Stuff happens and then I just have to keep these in the chamber until I can post again. Okay, the red haired daddy of the pirates is gonna be a handful. Let's make him dance~ >:D

This was a request from my Follower Fridays! If you have a character or story in mind, go ahead and ask because my requests are open!

05/26/2024, a poll is open too for a community vote, so place your bet now before it closes!!

On with the show!~

______________________________________________________________

The sun set in a brilliant display of colors, casting a warm glow over the tropical island. The beach was bustling with life, and the sound of laughter mingled with the rhythm of the waves. Shanks and his crew had just docked and were making their way to the island’s most famous spot: [Name]'s Beach Bar.

The bar was a beacon of light and sound, drawing pirates and locals alike. Music filled the air, and the scent of tropical flowers and salty sea breeze created a perfect atmosphere for a night of fun. Shanks, with his trademark straw hat perched on his head, led his crew inside.

"Ahh," Shanks sighed, stopping at the doors before grinning. "This is the place."

Inside, the bar was alive with activity. Patrons were dancing, laughing, and enjoying the warm night. Strings of fairy lights were hung from the palm trees, casting a soft, magical glow over the scene.

Behind the bar, [Name] was mixing drinks with practiced ease, her smile lighting up the room. You were by far, Shanks favorite reason to stop at this island.

[Name] is a stunning vision of beachside beauty, with features that reflect the paradise that surrounds her.

Your skin is always warm to the touch from endless days spent under the tropical sun, giving you a radiant glow that seems to illuminate the room. Your eyes sparkle with mischief and warmth, hinting at the playful spirit that resides within.

Shanks found himself walking a bit faster towards the bar, Beckman on heels. For him, [Name]'s smile is her most captivating feature, brightening her face and drawing others to her like moths to a flame. Her lips are full and plush, often adorned with a glossy sheen that adds to their allure. With every movement, you radiates joy and positivity, infusing the room with her infectious energy.

In summary, [Name] is a vision of beachside beauty, with features that reflect the sun, sea, and sand that surround her. Her radiant smile and captivating presence make her the epitome of tropical allure, a true goddess of the shore.

Or that's what Shanks was going on and on about to the crew until he finally arrived at your station.

Inside, the bar was alive with activity. Patrons were dancing, laughing, and enjoying the warm night. Strings of fairy lights were hung from the palm trees, casting a soft, magical glow over the scene. Behind the bar, [Name] was mixing drinks with practiced ease, her smile lighting up the room. She looked up and spotted Shanks, her eyes twinkling with recognition.

"Well, if it isn't the famous Shanks!" she called out, waving him over.

"Welcome back to my bar!"

Shanks approached, his usual confidence slightly tempered by the lively atmosphere. "Thanks, [Name]. I've missed yo- this place."

"And I've you too," [Name] replied, leaning on the bar with a playful glint in her eye. "It's not every day a legendary pirate visits my humble establishment. Let's get you something to drink."

Shanks ordered a drink, and the two quickly fell into easy conversation. They exchanged stories of their adventures, [Name] recounting tales of her bar's colorful patrons and Shanks sharing snippets of his journeys. Shanks found himself captivated by her lively spirit and infectious laughter.

"So, tell me," [Name] said, resting her chin on her hand as she listened to one of Shanks' tales, "what brings you to this part of the Grand Line?"

Shanks shrugged, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Just looking for a good time, some good company. Seems like I came to the right place."

"You certainly did," [Name] replied with a wink. "We know how to have fun around here."

As the night wore on, the music shifted to a faster tempo. Couples began to pair off, moving to the dance floor. Shanks watched them, a flicker of unease crossing his face. He admired how effortlessly [Name] interacted with everyone, her energy drawing people in like a magnet.

"You know," [Name] said, catching his look, "dancing's a big part of the fun here. How about it, Shanks? Care to join me?"

Shanks hesitated, glancing at the dancers. "I'm not much of a dancer," he admitted, his voice uncharacteristically shy. "Especially with... well, you know." He gestured to his missing arm.

[Name] smiled warmly, her flirtatious nature coming through. "Who says you need two arms to dance? Come on, let's try something different. How about a square dance? It's more about having fun than anything else."

Before Shanks could protest, [Name] took his hand and led him to the dance floor. She signaled to the band, who started playing a lively tune. Shanks found himself in a group with [Name] and several other patrons, moving to the beat in a series of coordinated steps.

At first, Shanks stood with an uncharacteristic stiffness, his gaze shifting uncomfortably as he became acutely aware of his missing arm. But [Name]'s infectious laughter and encouragement gradually worked their magic on him. She moved with such effortless grace and joy that it was impossible not to be swept up in the moment.

"See?" [Name] exclaimed, spinning gracefully to the music's rhythm.

"You're doing great!"

A genuine laugh escaped Shanks' lips, his usual air of confidence returning. "This is actually fun! You're not too bad yourself, lass." He flashed her a crooked grin, though there was a hint of vulnerability in his expression.

In a bold move, [Name] playfully pinched his side and deftly removed his cloak, revealing the scarlet hue that tinged his cheeks. Leaning in closer, she whispered teasingly in his ear.

"I could say the same thing about you, Daddy.~"

Shanks flushed, a deeper shade of crimson than his hair, as [Name] giggled mischievously and twirled him around once more. Despite his initial reservations, he found himself enjoying the dance more than he had anticipated, grateful for [Name]'s playful spirit and her ability to make him feel at ease in his own skin.

As they danced, more people joined in, the dance floor becoming a sea of smiling faces and twirling bodies. The atmosphere was electric, everyone feeding off the collective energy and joy.

"You're a natural, Shanks," [Name] teased, giving him a playful wink. "I knew you had it in you."

Shanks grinned, a spark of his usual confidence returning. "Maybe I just needed the right partner."

Their laughter mingled with the music, creating a harmonious symphony. The energy on the dance floor was contagious, drawing even more patrons to join in the square dance from the beach.

Shanks and [Name] found themselves at the center of a growing circle of dancers, their movements becoming more synchronized with each beat.

"You know," Shanks said, catching his breath during a brief lull in the music, "I never thought I'd enjoy square dancing of all things."

"It's all about the company," [Name] replied with a smile. "And you're pretty good at keeping up."

The night continued with more laughter and dancing. At one point, the band transitioned into a slower, more romantic tune. [Name] took the opportunity to lead Shanks into a slower dance, her hand resting gently on his shoulder and chest while his arm wrapped firmly around her waist.

"You're full of surprises," Shanks murmured, looking down at [Name]. The soft lights reflected in her eyes, giving them an enchanting glow.

"So are you, Red-Haired Shanks," [Name] replied, her voice soft and playful. "I never would have guessed the great pirate captain would be shy about dancing."

Shanks chuckled, the sound low and warm. "You make it easy."

While the dance continued, the rest of the bar seemed to fade away. The connection between them grew stronger, the chemistry undeniable. Shanks felt a sense of ease and happiness that he hadn't experienced in a long time. For a moment, he allowed himself to forget the responsibilities and dangers of his life as a pirate and simply enjoy the present.

As the night at the beach bar continued, the energy remained high, with patrons laughing, dancing, and enjoying the lively atmosphere. At one point, the karaoke machine was brought out, and [Name] couldn't resist dragging Shanks up to the stage.

"Come on, Shanks, let's sing something together!" [Name] exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement.

Shanks hesitated, not used to being the center of attention in such a way, but he couldn't resist [Name]'s infectious enthusiasm. "Alright, why not?" he chuckled, taking the microphone from her.

Together, they sang a lively sea shanty, their voices blending surprisingly well. Shanks was pleasantly surprised at how much fun he was having, his initial self-consciousness fading away with each verse.

Meanwhile, Shanks' crew sat at a nearby table, watching the scene with amusement. Yasopp nudged Benn Beckman, a smirk playing on his lips. "Looks like the captain's found himself a duet partner."

Benn chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Who would've thought the great Red-Haired Shanks would be singing karaoke?"

Lucky Roo grinned, clapping along to the music. "They make a good pair, don't they? Maybe we should join in!"

Shanks and [Name] finished their song to applause and cheers from the crowd. Shanks couldn't help but smile at [Name], grateful for her infectious spirit and the way she had helped him let loose and have fun.

"That was amazing!" [Name] exclaimed, giving Shanks a playful nudge. "Who knew you had such a great singing voice?"

Shanks chuckled, a hint of color still lingering on his cheeks. "I suppose you bring out the best in me, lass."

As they made their way back to their table, Shanks' crew greeted them with cheers and applause, their earlier teasing replaced with admiration.

"You two were fantastic!" Yasopp called out, raising his glass in salute. "Who knew the captain was a karaoke star?"

Shanks laughed, feeling lighter and more carefree than he had in a long time. He was grateful for [Name]'s presence and the way she had helped him break out of his shell, if only for one memorable night on the beach.

By the end of the night, Shanks felt lighter than he had in years. As the music faded and the crowd began to disperse, he turned to [Name].

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

[Name] smiled, her eyes warm and inviting. "Anytime, Shanks. You're always welcome here."

As the stars twinkled overhead, Shanks and [Name] stood on the beach, the waves lapping at their feet. It was a night neither would soon forget, a reminder that even the most legendary pirates could find joy in the simplest of pleasures.

Shanks looked at [Name], a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, I might just take you up on that offer."

[Name] laughed, the sound like music to Shanks' ears. "I'll hold you to it, Strawberry Shortcake. Next time, maybe we'll try a waltz."

"I look forward to it," Shanks replied, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time.

As they parted ways, Shanks couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected evening. He knew he'd be back to [Name]'s Beach Bar, not just for the music and the dancing, but for the company of the captivating woman who had helped him find his rhythm once again.

______________________________________________________________

Shanks being nervous about dancing was very much inspired by: @fanaticsnail and their story: Dancando Lambada it's freaking great and you all should go check it out!!

As a caribbean latina, I fucking loved that shit and it's so rare to see something of my culture make it to mainstream media.

In the words of Emily Rudd, "Shanks is a daddy!"

Make sure you check out the a03 account by the same name. I also have other daddy's of One piece posted in the masterlist! Give them a read if you please!

Be sure to leave likes and comments, they really help. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don't be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

Also, don't be shy, send me your requests! I wanna write lots this weekend!

Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[emmitthechosenonesblog]

Y’all have waited very patiently for my slow ass to post so here ya go-

(Origin stories and backgrounds are coming soon so here’s some “how the turtles met each character” stories 4 u)

“I don’t see how this is necessary.” The soft shell turtle grumbled, his tail flicking back and forth with underlying annoyance. “Aw c’mon, Dontron, it’ll be fun! Just imagine it: a whole day of facials, pedicures, lounging by the pool. I thought you loved all that stuff!” Leo exclaimed, slinging an arm over Donnie’s shoulder.

Donnie swatted his hand away, rolling his eyes. Leo was far too excited in his opinion. He thought it was a great idea to being Donnie along to his spa day, saying that he didn’t “get out of the house enough.” Truth be told, Leo brought him along so he could hack into the resorts security system so they wouldn’t have to pay.

“I only like that stuff when I’m not busy. And in case you didn’t notice, ‘Nardo, I am VERY busy. Not only do I have to fix the turtle tank from our last mission, but I also have to add some updates to the-“

“Ahhhbupbupbup- just be zen, bro. Chillaxxx~” Leo pressed a finger up to Donnie’s mouth, a grin plastered on his face as he teased his brother. Donnie sputtered at the sudden intrusion, smacking his hand away once again. “Zen? You’ve got to be kidding me. Well, Leonardo, you and your zen can kiss. My. A-“

“Look out!”

Before Donnie had any time to respond, a flash of white and purple soars past his eyes, knocking him onto the cold stone ground. He groaned at the sudden impact,

“S-Sorry! I let this little fella out of his cage. Didn’t think he’d bolt the first chance he’d get.” The girl exclaimed, sitting up and holding the small mouse with white fur in the palm of her hands

Donatellos eyes soon adjusted after being knocked down, widening when he saw the girl with purple skin. She had no idea what she was doing, did she? A light blush spread across his cheeks, his breath hitching in his throat.

“I let him out for one second and he’s already driving me nuts! I swear one of these days I’m gonna- oh.”

A blush ran across the moth girl's cheeks as well. She was sitting on him. Straddling him. She gulped, her breath shaky as she looked down at him. “O-oh…Hi…” she whispered shyly, a sheepish smile running across her face

"Uhm...Hi.." Donnie whispered back, a nervous and flustered look plastered on his face. The girl took a second before realizing she was still on him, sliding off and standing up. "D-Damn it, sorry! I-I didn't see you-" She rubbed her cheek, a bruise already beginning to form there thanks to the tumble they both took. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I'm Lilian. Lilian Sanchez. Again, I'm sorry about...well, falling on you, I suppose."

Donnie looked her up and down, noticing her shy demeanor. He huffed out a breath that he didn't even realize he was holding, standing up. That's when he realized just how short Lilian was. He cleared his throat, holding out his hand for her to shake. "It's alright. No harm done. I'm Donnie."

Lilian's face lit up when she saw how calm he'd gotten, happy he wasn't angry. She giggled softly, shaking his hand. "Donnie, huh? That's a pretty name! Oooo, what's that gauntlet do? Is your favorite color purple? What'cha doing here? Is that a battle shell or something on your back-" At this point, Lilian was buzzing. She flapped around him, wings fluttering as they lifted her off the ground slightly. Donnie blinked up at her with surprise. Nobody had ever been this interested in his work before. So curious. He chuckled softly, with a proud smirk as he blushed in return. "Well, as you can see, my fluttering friend...'

Lilian would be lying if she said she wasn't completely enamored of this man. He was so smart and interesting that it was hard not to be practically buzzing with excitement. The two sat down together, talking about his inventions and his likes and dislikes. He was just so...him. In the end, she handed him her number, a big old smile on her face. Donnie wouldn't be lying if he said she was adorable.

He was perfect.

Perfect in her eyes.

(Epilogue)

"Dude, who was that cutie you were talking to? The moth girl?" Leo asked as the two walked home, striding through the sewers with renewed fervor. Donatello shrugged, fiddling with the piece of paper with Lilian's number on it. The first girl to ever give him their number. Well, besides April, of course. "Some girl called Lilian Sanchez. She gave me her number. She was...excited to talk to me. Like, she didn't even know me and she was so happy to get to know me..."

After a long moment of silence, Leo perked up, eyes wide. "Wait, Lilian Sanchez? Dude, you talked to her and survived?" Donnie tilted his head in confusion. "What do you mean, 'Survived?' "

"Donnie, her dad's dangerous. I'm surprised you were even allowed to talk to her." Leo said with surprise, stopping in his tracks to talk to his twin. Donnie stopped as well, a few paces ahead of him. "Lorenzo Sanchez?'

The end

[mochamoth]

Hiii more fluffy headcanons cuz idk what to draw (Samarina edition)

(If OOC headcanons annoy you I'm sorry it's best you leave cuz this might piss you off 😔)

-Samarie does Marina's makeup and Marina does Samarie's hair.

-Fuck any assholes who come for me for this but (I hc) Marina is chubby. Cuz I love LOVE chubby women. And Samarie also loves chubby women. Because I said so (as a hc, not canonly this is a hc).

-Samarie doesn't do well in most social situations likes restaurants, clubs, parties, ect. Marina doesn't mind, so either she does all the socializing or they just go on more quiet, casual dates.

-Samarie had to come clean about a stash of belongings Marina had forgotten about or lost throughout the years. She was a bit freaked out (because d u h) but let her keep it. Now she puts proper gifts from Marina in with the stash.

-Samarie is very VERY lonely. Being autistic (hc, tho she has MANY traits) and raised in isolation and all. Marina is all she really has. So Marina tries to get Samarie to make connections. Not that Samarie holds Marina from her relationships, Marina just feels as though it'd be nice for Samarie to have proper friends.

-Samarie yaps about her interests to Marina. Marina sometimes does so aswell but it's mostly Samarie and it's usually about moths.

-Marina sometimes let's Samarie pick out her outfits. Marina would have many cute outfits and such (I like to think she's very fashionable and a sucker for frills and cute things in general).

-Samarie has days where she can't get out of bed, either from being ill or mentally unwell. Marina helps her during these times, making sure she eats and drinks and reassuring her.

-Marina occasionally has her emotional moments too, and Samarie is always there to help her and care for her.

-They can be quiet for hours together. They like being quiet together. It's nice and relaxing.

-Marina makes Samarie go clothes shopping with her. Samarie only has outfits because Marina made her be more confident in herself and treated her. If not she would wear the same damn like 5 clothes every day. Half she doesn't even like.

-Bugs are not killed. Marina simply gets Samarie, and Samarie takes them outside.

-Marina enjoys starting playful banter with Samarie. Samarie is a very well.. She's Samarie so it's rare to get her in a silly mood. But, not impossible. She can be very playful, it's just only for Marina.

-Samarie is a picky eater because of how she was raised, she's used to the same few meals everyday (if at all). Marina makes Samarie at least try to eat healthier, having her eat more varied food. Samarie trusts Marina's judgement and only occasionally chickens out of trying new things.

That's all for noww, ty if you enjoyed this idk these probably suck but it's fineeee anyways bye!

[mayajadewrites]

Levi Ackerman x Reader: Moth to a Flame

synopsis: Levi Ackerman - Captain of the Scout Regiment. He's broody, quiet, and clean. You're a scout, skilled in combat and has killed numerous titans. You dated Captain Levi briefly, in secret, in a whirlwind romance. Late nights and secrets are what kept your "relationship" afloat. Due to Levi's ideals, he decided to end things with you, but now you're moved on. But Levi hasn't.

authors note: this takes place in the AOT universe, and it will reference SOME of the events from the anime, so be aware if you're not caught up. i won't be following the timeline of the manga/anime.

characters: levi ackerman, erwin smith, erin jaeger, mikasa ackerman, armin arlot, jean kirstein, sasha braus, connie springer, hange zoe, + more.

content warnings: some chapters will be nsfw. i will put a warning before each chapter if it contains 18+ content.

ao3

C H A P T E R O N E – A U T U M N

The air was cold and crisp as it flowed through your window to the room you shared with Mikasa and Sasha. Summer is over and autumn has kissed the leafs on the trees.

Your body twitched as the air touched your skin. You made a mental note to start sleeping with a sweatshirt on. Sasha's snores filled the room while Mikasa slept silently.

You grab your watch from your nightstand and look at the time. 5:45 AM. You like to go on runs before breakfast to get your heart rate up and get some vitamin D before you had to attend training for your next mission.

After putting a t-shirt, shorts, and sneakers, you're out the door. The girls won't be up for another hour, so you didn't want to disturb them.

As you walk down the hallway, you put your hair in a ponytail, looking at your feet as you walk.

Then your body collided with another.

"Sorry." You say before you even look up at who's in front of you.

Captain Levi Ackerman.

"Sorry, Captain." You correct yourself, standing up straight.

"Where are you off to?" Levi brushed off his shirt, freshly pressed of course.

"I'm going on a run before breakfast."

Levi nodded in response, pushing past you towards Erwin's office. You sighed when you felt it was safe to, ignoring the pending thoughts in your head.

Levi Ackerman broke your heart, and you just super-glued the pieces back together.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Breakfast was usually the same in the scouts. Eggs, bread, and sometimes bacon. Everyone sits in what we call the "mess hall" and eats breakfast together before we put our bodies through the ultimate torture which is training to fight titans.

You find your usual table – Mikasa, Eren, Armin, Jean, Sasha, and Connie.

"Good morning!" Sasha said as she stuffed her face with eggs. "I heard you leave this morning, how was your run?"

"I'm surprised you could hear me over your snoring." You chuckle, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "It was good. The sun felt good this morning, I'm so glad its finally autumn."

"You go on runs every morning?" Jean asked, patting his mouth with his napkin.

"Yeah, I like to prepare myself for training for the day."

You didn't want to say that Levi gave you the idea to go on runs every morning. He goes on runs earlier than you, thank God, because you'd rather not have to see him more than you already do.

"I might have to start doing that. I feel like I run really slow." Eren nodded to himself. I knew Mikasa was now going to also be going on runs in the morning with Eren. They are inseparable.

"That's awesome." Jean smiled as he said your name. He's always been sweet and funny, especially with Connie. They make you laugh every day, even on your worst days.

You feel the hair on the back of your neck stick up, a wave of goosebumps to follow. Your ears honed in on the sound of his boots against the floor.

You hated that Levi had this affect on you.

He was talking to Hange about her latest Titan experiment, which he sounded less than thrilled about. You made a conscious effort not to look at him.

"Morning Captain!" Armin said with a smile. He's always so joyful in the morning, which is something you envy.

"Good morning brats." Levi nodded in approval, his eyes glazing over yours for a split second.

A memory of you waking up next to him flashed in your mind, a time when you accidentally fell asleep after spending the night talking, kissing, and obviously... other activities.

"You good?" Jean's voice was like a pin to your thoughts, popping them instantly. "You looked like you're spacing out."

"Yeah, I was just thinking about how good a cup off coffee would be right now. I'm gonna go get some." You get up from your seat, shaking off the feeling of your memory.

"I've never felt like this." Levi kissed your ear, his voice low in your ear. His hand snaked up your body to your face, taking your chin roughly in his hands and pulling it towards his face. "You're one of a kind."

Life without Levi has been tough, but you have gotten over the gash of heartbreak he left. Seeing him every day for training and missions has gotten easier, and thankfully he doesn't want to see you any more than you do him.

Or so you think.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

let me know what you guys think so far!

[thechaoticscenejester]

HAAOOOIIII!!! XD

W4ZZUP SP4RKL3D0GZZ!1!1!1! :3

U can call me Centipede/Gir/Lancer :D

They/it/he/she (They/It preferably) X3

Fandom List:

Stars next to my obsessions!!

• The Amazing digital circus

• Five nights at freddy's

• Undertale

•Deltarune ⭐

•UTY

• Murder Drones ⭐️⭐️⭐️

• Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss

• (ROT)Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

• Popee The Performer

• Welcome Home

• Raggedy Ann and Andy

• Hilda

• DreamWorks trolls

• Invader Zim

• Ramshackle

• Johnny the Homicidal maniac

• Mean Girls

• The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals

• K-12

• Diary of a wimpy kid

• Sweet Tooth (Netflix show)

• Inside out 1/2

• Cobra Kai

• Yaelokre ⭐⭐⭐

• Little Witch Academia

• FPE ⭐️⭐️⭐️

• Hamilton ⭐️

• Beetlejuice ⭐️

• Hunt For The Wilderpeople ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Master Posts:

(Fixed the links!1!1!!!! X3)

The Tadc dark au

The Amazing Digital High School

Tadc: Eternal Tragedy AU

Hazbin Hotel x Tadc

Jthm x iz au

Dead! Zim au

Remaking deltarune w/ocs

Father! Caine au

Hazbin Next Gen Au!!!!

Youtube:

Asks:

You can ask me anything and if I want to I'll respond. I don't wanna be rude, but it says ASK not tell. So, don't just tell me some random thing.

Boundaries:

Okay, let's get real here. I don't want to hear about your issues unless you're my friend or you ask first. I don't really like to read vents of random people because I'm no therapist. I can't even deal with my own shit.

You can cuss all you want. Just no slurs.

Please act ur fucking age (some exceptions tho)

DNI: Proshippers, racists, homophobic, under the age of 10, Children, u make NSFW, u make gacha heat, u don't act ur age, Satanists, Zoophiles, pedophiles, ur @/Randysworlds2009, or if I just don't like u :)

That's basically it. If u break any of these boundaries I'll block u<33

Anyways,

I'm a Abbie (FPE) kinnie I'm a bitch so be warned lolzz!!! XD I kin so many characters for my own good!!!! X3 I'm a therian and fiction-kin too!1!1!1!!!! :3

My MAIN THERIANTYPE IZ A WHITE DEER!!!!! ^_^

OTHERZ: Raccoon, Cat, Moth, Owl, Goat, and skunk!!!! XD

Hopez u likez my art!!!! >:D

[juyomiao]

FIREWORK - park sunghoon x reader

prev - masterlist - next

09 ★ quadratic equations

warnings : one joke abt meth , ignore timestamps , barely proof read

☆ note omg im alive !! li juyomiao is alive !! n he just failed his korean exam !!! or maybe i didnt idk lets not speak it into existence ! n with this , firework is somewhat officially of hiatus ! we cheered :3 if any of u asked to be added to the taglist after the last chapter i may have forgotten abt it so im sorry n feel free to ask again !

��� synopsis newly debuted 5th gen girl group CUP!D from starship entertainment is under everyone's eyes as their debut song 'love dive' goes viral both domestically and internationally ; all is going well until the group's main vocalist, y/n, gets exposed for her old stan… hate account?

☆ taglist (italics = couldn't tag) @rikitachiquita @roseidol @leep0ems @tocupid @skzeyeu @porcelain-moths @jiaant11 @philijack @ish4niii @mrchweeee @be0mluver @imsiriuslyreal @blackphoneboo @yulafilms @antivenus @poollabug @jiawji @wonyoungsvirus @artstaeh @heelovesmeknot @ineedaherosavemeenow @thisisnotjacinta @homohoons

[hermannsprecursors]

IHNM POSTING AGAIN???

You know it baby! Happy secret survivor to @cognitivity !!!! They asked for anything revolving around AM and Ted, especially if it was based on Ted's psychodrama in the game, so off I went, and I replayed the damn thing to go get sometihng cool from said psychodrama. I wound up settling on, well, the quote used in the piece. I had a lot of fun figuring this one out! Hope you don't mind that it's my personal designs of these fucknuts, I just wanted an excuse to draw my 3-faced AM because I find him particularly terrifying

My first full piece done in Clip Studio Paint too, very excited to be moving up as an artist :D

.... Also maybe i posted it today out of spite of the deadline being changed LOL love u Moth

[featherlouise]

Do you think hollow knew what to expect when radiance was sealed in them? I doubt anyone would have explained exactly what would happen and I don’t think most people would actually know what it’s like to literally contain a goddess so do you think they were expecting to just die or whatever during the sealing but then they pop up in the dream battle and they’re instantly confused. Lmao

I adore the idea of them taking one look at the massive looming moth goddess and going “nah, fuck this shit. I sure as shit Did NOT sign up for this bullshi-“ and radiance gets to watch hollows short mental spiral and after they calm down they both just shit talk PK until ghost shows up.

I know it’s ooc and it isn’t my headconon but it’s a funny thought lol (soz for the long ask)

Ooooo that’s a great question actually!!

I don’t think anyone really knew exactly what to expect, not even PK, but I do think it was a pretty safe guess that there would’ve been a fight of some kind, hence Hollow being trained in combat and magic. And I don’t think anyone really told Hollow explicitly??? But they’re not stupid and would’ve caught on what was expected of them during others’ conversations.

Or!! It’s honestly possible that PK talked AT them about what he suspected would happen when they were sealed, kinda like Rubber Duck Debugging.

Though I can imagine it was a surprise when they ended up surrounded by pretty clouds, only for the SUN TO SPROUT WINGS AND ATTACK THEM

As for what I think actually happened!! (Ik u didn’t ask about this I just wanna talk about it absnddjdd)

I’m really intrigued by the idea of an eternal battle, BUT what I find more interesting is the idea of Hollow and Radi having a series of shorter battles throughout their imprisonment.

Every time Hollow won, Radi would retreat to lick her wounds and Holly would get some peace for a while. Maybe there was actually some talking during these moments.

Whenever the Radiance won however, Hollow is knocked out of the dream world (like how Ghost is booted out when u lose dream battles) and they’re confronted with the reality that their body is actively falling apart.

During those moments, while they’re frantically trying to calm down enough to re enter the dream realm, they’re in so much pain that it feels like they’re burning from the inside out.

Usually the only noise in the temple is that of their own ragged breathing and the occasional drip, drip, drip of the infected parts of them leaking. At one point, they hear a loud wet slap on the ground, and they turn their head to find that their arm has rotted off.

Meanwhile, Radi uses these moments where she’s not occupied by Hollow’s murder attempts to spread her infection further.

Every time they lose they put up less and less of a fight, until one day they break completely, and the Radiance completely takes over (queue Ghost arriving in Hallownest)

The idea of them both just gossiping about PK for centuries is SO funny to me tho honestly shdbdjdns

All jokes aside though!! I do like to think that some conversations were had between the two!! I doubt they were friendly conversations at all, but I think it’s an interesting concept to explore :D

[chiyoso]

o em gee!? ♡゙ welcome to ghan high!

l|l SOCIAL LINKS! - #insta #X #spotify | discord: kuniyo04 ✦ sideblogs: chiyoside. pareidoix. oc blog. editing blog. ✦

⸻ I D E N T I F I C A T I O N : “CHIYOSO” Other Alias(es): kuniyo04, pareidoix, hiraethsdesires.

B i o g r a p h y :

Chiyo (ちよ) or Kuni (くに) is a young, filipina woman in her 20s, spending her time writing and translating imagery in her mind into words she can't express with her voice. A journey that started alongside the game Honkai Star Rail back in early to late April, opening a whole new world that got her hooked.

The game was fresh, and so were her interests that were piqued from reading good smut. While scrolling through AO3 for mystic messenger fiction, google had introduce her to the tumblr site, and there she found a vast amount of fanfiction related to Star Rail, which led to burning excitement and a happy heart, resulting in the creation of her first two fics; Cynosure's Ascendance and HIGANBANA, and another follow up fic that kickstarted her gradual fame and interest in a crossover between Star Rail and Honkai Impact 3rd; The Mara's Will. The rest is history.

Besides writing, university and extracurricular activities, stories in the form of media consume her time. Whether it would be from Anime, Games, Dungeons & Dragons, or TV Shows, she will present her interest and vigor when it comes to it.

⸻ L I K E S / I N T E R E S T S : Bold text means I'm super duper into it!

Angst. Lore. Sexual and sensual tension. Fluff. Hurt w/comfort or without. NSFW. Dark, rich and unsaturated colors. Classical music. Piano. Opera. Musicals and Broadways. Ballroom Dancing. Ballet. Vintage and Elegant Fashion. Makeup. Jewelry. Greek, Victorian and Japanese Architecture. Serene places. Italian and Korean cuisine. Fantasy. Anime. Games. Boxing. Martial Arts. DND. God. Psychology. Deep and Philosophical topics. Nighttime. Slutty grabbable waists. Dr. Veritas Ratio. Scaramouche/Wanderer. Suguru. Choso. Toji. Fictional men. Riddle Rosehearts. VTubers. Hibachi Mana! Koyanagi Rou. Offline TV ··· etc.

⸻ D I S L I K E S / H A T E : Same thing but red means it's hated really really badly.

Ignorance. Emotional Unintelligence. Entitlement. Moths. Bugs that disguise themselves as leaves. Horror Movies and Games. Pedophilia. Idiocy. Narcissism. Overstimulation (ADHD). Loud, blaring noises. The claustrophobia I have. Misogyny (It's amusing). Losing Progress. Forgetfulness. Andr*w Tate dick riders. Infantilism. AI. Art Theft.

⸻ F U N F A C T S :

Hentai Artist as a hobby. The 'so' in CHIYOSO comes from Kamo 'Choso'. Plays Violin and Piano (Washed). Started boxing this Jan 2025. Did figure skating for a few days then dipped. Did ballet and gymnastics in her childhood.

⸻ G U I L T Y P L E A S U R E S : Guilty for a reason and will probably write about it.

Priest. Non-consenting. Sex while pretending to sleep. Risk getting caught. Age Gap (21+ Reader). Manipulating men. Cheating. Gun and knife play.

⸻ E X T R A :

anime fandoms: dandadan, jjk, magi, undead unluck, violet evergarden, kamikatsu, the apothecary diaries, akatsuki no yona, demon slayer, AoT, bucchigiri, windbreaker, tokyo revengers, haikyuu, mob psycho, one punch man, welcome to the ballroom, carole & tuesday, bocchi the rock, fate, howl's moving castle, wisteria: wand and sword, black clover, fairytail, sound euphonium n' more

game fandoms: class of '09, cookie run kingdom, wuthering waves, honkai impact 3rd, genshin impact, love & deepspace, honkai star rail, mystic messenger, obey me, twisted wonderland, bang dream, and much more.

3. ⸻ P L A Y W I T H M E : Catch me in SEA / Asia Servers.

Gacha/Open World Games:

Genshin: 852100538 Honkai Star Rail: 802195964 Zenless Zen Zero: ( - ) Wuthering Waves: 901385961 Infinity Nikki: 401827008 CRK: ( - )

FPS/Mobile/Other:

Riot Games: Scaramouche#4ever Epic Seven: Llyria Roblox: Evaturiche Love & Deepspace: ( - )

POV: YOU GIVE WANDERER A HUG insta reel. hug wanderer why dont you.

tba··· (i got lazy. will add more if i get motivated again.)