#When I was younger I liked this pink dress way more than the blue one

[payte]

Drizella stalked towards her, chewing her out with every step.

Drizella: If you think that I’m gonna let you tag along with us in that bubblegum pink nightmare and ruin this evening for me, you’re more stupid than I thought!

 All Cinderella could do was keep backing away as her step sister moved to corner her.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 1

Part 2

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, eventual smut, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, mentions/depictions of death/suicidal ideation, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i nearly decided on nuking this because it feels so fucking bad and aimless guess in the end I'M really the tormented spirit huh anyway if I'm glad i didnt and decided to wait it out. if you enjoy this please think of leaving a comment and/or reblog because i need the reassurance. | cross posted on ao3

Tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

"Father," Alicent pleads, "she needs to see you."

Otto's jaw clenches as he lifts his gaze from his desk. He looks upon his youngest child's features. You were one in the same, his first daughter and last. He thanks the gods that she did not inherit the curse you bear.

Alicent picks at her fingers while awaiting a response. Though she draws blood, no sound leaves her lips. She did not know it, but her father catches this anxious tick. He mentally corrects himself: at least she did not inherit it at equal intensity.

"A man has no place in the dressing room of a bride-to-be," the Lord Hand dismisses.

Alicent knew about as much would be said, yet she still tries, "please. She is having a-"

"And when has my presence ever soothed her?" Otto interrupts, raising his voice to make his point clear.

It was enough. Alicent understood.

He turns back to his papers. He reads them but none of the words register. He says, "I am sure your brother is already there, coddling her as he does."

Alicent does not respond.

Otto lifts his gaze, "go," he speaks as though his daughter missed the obvious, "if she needs someone so badly, coddle her with Gwayne."

Alicent returns to your chambers. Her heart pinched in every which way at the sight of you. Here you stood, clothed in one the few precious dresses that belonged to your mother— a bride. Dark blue satin and gold jewelry embellished your form. Your brown hair was curled and plaited and pinned. Your face had a glow, only because it was stained with tears. It was terrible and magnificent all at once.

Rhaenyra goes to her best friend and the two girls clutched hands before walking towards you. Gwayne spots them and gives your hands a tight squeeze. Because of this, you turn from your older brother to your younger sister. Your eyes are pink with melancholy.

"Lord Hand," Alicent mutters, "is deep in his work."

On his daughter's wedding day, thinks Gwayne.

Rhaenyra clenches her jaw, loathing your father more than normal in this moment.

More than your own, you cannot stomach your sister's duress. You stroke her cheek, "I am well now. Worry no more."

Alicent catches Gwayne's expression and knows that is a lie. Still, she smiles and nods, "I am glad," she looks you once over, "you are an exquisite bride, sister."

Rhaenyra offers a smile, "I agree, dear aunt."

Your face twists at the young princess' words, though you knew she meant well. You will away the dreadful sensation in your stomach and manage a smile, "thank you... sweet niece."

You relish their company for as long as you can in this moment. You gather strength from Rhaenyra's smile, from Alicent's touch, and Gwayne's words. Then, all at once, you were alone, walking towards Daemon Targaryen.

In truth, he was not curious of you. He despised you, for after all, you were the spawn of that Cunttower. But, gods, what could possibly be the reason you were taking so long to walk down the aisle? It was not like this room was that big. And so, he turns over his shoulder to inspect you. His hand remains on Dark Sister and his weight still rested mostly on one leg.

He squints at the sight of you, moving like a snail. He is about to roll his eyes, but then he catches a glimpse of your countenance.

Tis strange.

You were not nearly as repulsive as he remembered you, and not nearly as similar in likeness to your rotten twin. How could that be, when it was not only- what, a season since he had pummeled Ser Cuntface to the ground? He will never forget your screaming face in the audience, and how deliciously distressed your father had been from hauling you away.

Even now, as Daemon's lilac eyes appraised your distant silhouette, gliding towards him like a phantom intent on haunting, he second guessed if that weeping woman from the tourney was you. But then he turned to your brother and saw his jaw harden. It was unmistakable then you were the weeping woman, and now, you were his weeping bride.

Gwayne, could not help the way his hands tightened into a fist as he helplessly watched you inch towards his most ardent foe. Beside him, unmoving, stood very man who allow such madness to ensue: your father.

You pass the pew that seated your family. Your twin's expression softens. He he nods, and you know he means take heart. Your sister does the same. But your father, who stood between his children, does not spare you a glance.

Daemon notices the coldness. He would feel bad, but then again, he has been proclaiming his ill-guided brother's Lord Hand was the biggest cunt in the realm for so long, so he doesn't. Oh, but then you look at him with those beady eyes, and he did not know why his thorax felt uneasy.

Twas strange indeed.

Soon you stood in front of your promised, and, finally, Otto lays his eyes upon you. He does not see you though. He does not see the woman dressed in the garments that once belonged to his wife. He does not see your trembling hand and glassy cheeks. He sees his timid, tremoring, little daughter that he had to leave a moon's length for work. He sees her frail body that shook on her tiny bed and found no comfort in the way he held her tiny hand when he returned.

As the septon begins this damning rite, all he could hear was the voice of the maester that promised the new medicine he procured would heal his girl. As tears rolled down your eyes, he remembers how he nearly killed the maester for feeding you herbs that caused you to retch the little food you had eaten.

Has my child not suffered enough?

Has my child not suffered enough?

ᴴⁱˢ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ ⁱˢ ᵐᵃʳʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ

Daemon turns to the pew beside the Hightowers' and finds his brother's face. Viserys seemed pleased to witness this wretched affair, as did Aemma, who clutched her pregnant belly. Rhaenyra beside her seemed more interested in you however, or at least the dress that she and Alicent helped dressed you in.

The septon blabbers and tells you both to speak your vows. You do, one as reluctant as the other. Then, as instructed, Daemon cloaks you and presses a kiss on your salty lips.

Twas bittersweet. On one hand, as he takes your clammy one, the image of Otto's face when Daemon told the King that he wanted to marry you comes to mind.

Oh, how excited he was to see the old fool look as though he was a breath away from lunging at him across the table, and how utterly horrendous that he hadn't. He would have simply, and justifiably, killed him. Then all this bother would not have ensued. The look upon the said man's face this moment, now that he's sullied what he so dearly protected, made his stomach giddy.

As the same time, as he held that same clammy hand of yours and felt it tremble, he remembers that you and he were bound. Though not in the manner of his house, he knew he could escape only so much of his wretched duties. Otto's vexation would only last so long, and deep down the cunt must enjoy that his daughter was now a princess. He knew soon Viserys would also begin nagging him again.

But then out of nowhere, he laughs. It was so abrupt that a few guests looked at him in confusion.

How could he forget? There was the matter of your... affliction. Perhaps he can frighten you to death on your wedding bed.

He chuckles once more.

The idea is so delicious, he is in good spirits the whole wedding feast. He does nothing but embarrass and shame you by entertaining literally every other lady save yourself.

What makes matters worse, at least on your end, is that your father refuses to go to your side and forbids not only your brother but as well as your sister from leaving their spots to come to your aid. There was no need to make the matter bigger than it was. You are left alone at your seat at the table, looking nothing but pathetic and weepy.

You sustain such temperament until you're in your marriage chambers, but then you do a funny thing and down two glasses of wine. Daemon laughs at how it spills from your lips, down your neck.

He, who had already much more than a measly two cups, comes behind you and takes the one you loudly prop on the table. You squeak and bolt away when Daemon's arm sneaks up from underneath your own; it only further amuses him.

"V'you a change of heart?" he pours himself a glass, "ready for debauchery, yes?"

You turn unbelievably pale, and it merits the fondest of laughs from your sadistic groom. Daemon drinks and licks the wine off his lips.

You gulp, reaching out a trembling hand.

He raises a brow at it. Suddenly, he's annoyed— twice was much because he has absolutely no idea what the gesture means.

That is, until you speak, "may I have some more?"

One of his faint silver brows raises. Suddenly, he is greedy with the wine he thought tasted too sour on his tongue. However, a curiosity within him urged to hand over the cheap drink, for why did his shivering wife have the nerve for this to be her first words to him?

He watched you throw your head back as you down the wine just as quick as you did the previous ones. He chuckles and crosses his arms. When you turn to Daemon, he tilts his head, "thirsty?"

You inhale deeply, though it is strangled, "for my anxiousness."

It takes a moment for him to realize what you mean, and when he does, his nostrils flare. Had he breathed fire, surely smoke would have come out his nose at this moment. Daemon releases an airy, unamused chuckle and averts his gaze, "eager to bed me, harlot?"

Your throat tightens, for that was not what you meant at all.

You forcibly swallow a lump that forms when he comes to your side. Your throat only further constricts when he grabs and yanks you into his chest. You whimper as he presses his nose against your ear. Goosebumps form when his hot breath hits your ear, "on the bed then."

Your heart thunders as he shoves you towards the bed. You nearly miss it. Actually, only your head and arms touch the cushion, and the rest of your body collides with the floor and the hard bed frame. Your tailbone throbs at the impact, but it doesn't hurt nearly as much as your chest that tightened, and tightened, and tightened and—

You barely manage to gasp. You are hard of breathing when Daemon crouches and grabs your thighs, pulling your skirts up. He feels your flesh tremble beneath his palm. His fingers touch your skin, and it brings him to hiss; you are ice against his burning hands.

He looks up at you. A line forms between his brows. You gasped for air that seemed unwilling to enter your lungs. Not only was your face stained with tears, but as well as your neck now

He mutters, "nyke pendagon jaelā naejot sagon ipradāri," I thought you wanted to get eaten, "I do so find fear delectable."

You continue to slump into the floor until you're a melted mess. You can do nothing but clutch your chest, not that it helps one bit.

Daemon is satisfied at this point. He stands and dusts his hands off. He looks at the pitiful Hightower, your dark locks spilled on the ground as if blood from a crime scene.

"Is that your affliction then, wife?" he tilts his head, "do you seize up when you're nervous?"

You look at him, but do not respond.

"S'rather inconvenient, no?" he sighs, as though he actually cared.

You shut your eyes and curl into a ball.

"Mmm, well, I suppose I will have to claim the womanhood owed of me some other time," he said, uninterested. With that, he exits the room with a skip in his step, pleased to know he had such a tremendous effect on you.

You remain in this turmoil for what felt like hours.

By the time you peel yourself up from the floor, your body is encased in sweat. You command yourself to calm; you cannot afford to slip into another bout of insanity. Your tears cannot be contained as you struggle to undo the ties of your dress; at least tremendous relief comes after you do. You struggle to your feet and remove the pins in your hair while making for the vanity table.

You sit before yourself; your horrid face reflects on the mirror that was far too clear for your liking. As you free your hair from its bounds, you think, perhaps it was fortunate that your husband did not lay with you. At least not tonight.

But then, comes to mind, the argument you with your father. Your chest threatens to tighten again as the severity of his voice replays in your head.

It was no secret, Otto despised Daemon. How then could he be so shocked at your horror of learning he had approved your marriage to him. His raging voice still rings in your head: "you ungrateful fool!"

You fall apart in your palms and nearly succumb to yourself again. Thankfully, you manage to take deep breaths and pick yourself up before you fall apart.

You always knew you were the spare in your father's eyes, but you thought that merited indifference. You did not think he hated you so deeply. How could anyone hand their child to their enemy? Perhaps this was his way of finally having use of you.

A spare. A pawn. Will it ever end?

You go to bed and wrap yourself tightly under the sheets. You stare at the ceiling, praying the same prayer you've prayed since you were eight: Seven, let this be my final slumber.

You nearly choke when you are awoken by such violent shaking. You jolt up, or at least as much as you can from the blankets you were so tightly bound in.

Daemon grins and brings the hands he had shaken you with behind his back, "I would say good morn, but it is apparently opposite to you, wife."

The name makes your skin crawl. You push yourself out of the sheets and sit up. You wipe your face and tell yourself; you must get used to this, "good morrow, husband."

Your brown curls spill down your shoulder as you sigh to yourself. Daemon thinks you look much more palatable this way, unlike yesterday, when your hair was jailed so tightly. He motions with his head, "ta. We make haste to the dragon pit."

Your eyes are suddenly devoid of any trace of sleepiness as you look at him.

His lips remain curled, "it would only be proper to do so, no?" He does not let you retort, as he is already making his way out, "tis Caraxes' right to know who his master has been shackled to," he opens the door, "at least momentarily."

If he was self-satisfied with how you shook under his grasp last night, one can only imagine his exhilaration over your severe disinterest in meeting his mount this morning. What's more, Caraxes could smell your anxiety, and it made him chuff and snap his jaws.

Of course, Daemon chastised his dragon, telling him to obey, even though he very much did not want him to. He eagerly fantasizes: oh, a shame my bride died the day I introduced him to my ride.

A true shame.

"Calm yourself," Daemon sniggers as he forcefully pushes you towards the blood wyrm, "the harder you make this for yourself, the harder it will be."

You found no encouragement in that, for no part of it meant to encourage. You continue to writhe against him, pushing yourself back, only to be pressed against the prince's chest and urged forward. It didn't help that he shackled his hands on both of your wrists, preventing you from elbowing him away.

Though your hair was braided to the side, you still manage to whip it to Daemon's face in your attempt to free yourself, only causing him to be more impatient. You could not help the harrowing shriek that left you when he ultimately brought you to the beast's maw, and the said creature pressed himself against your chest to sniff you.

Caraxes rips away and shakes his head at your piercing reaction. He shrieks in like, as if disapproving, or showing offence. He must exact appropriate retaliation. He draws a deep breath, readying to set you ablaze. Daemon would have let him, had he not been a direct target of his mount's wrath, "keligon, Caraxes!"

Caraxes hisses.

"Keligon!" Stop!

He does not enjoy the order, exemplified by the way he licked his teeth, but obeys, nonetheless. He roars one last time, spit sputtering onto your face as he does. It's enough to make you finally lose your resolve.

You cease your wrangling and find yourself going limp in his arms. Daemon is pleased. He can finally drag you on dragon-back and torment you even more mid-air. What he did not know, however, was that your stomach was tingling; it was not that of the usual dread so familiar to you, but twas familiar still.

Daemon takes you by the arm and tries to make you climb up to the saddle, but then he stills when he hears the sound you make. He pulls away just before the acid from your stomach rushes out of your mouth. You retch so much it comes out of your nose, and you feel yourself grow lightheaded.

"Fucking gods," Daemon recoils in disgust. He turns to one of the dragon keepers and orders you away.

The dragon keeper, who looked far older than your father, spoke to you in a language you could not make out. You understand the part where he says maester as he leads you out of the pit. You manage to convey you no longer needed his assistance once you were out and walked off by yourself. You flinch and shriek when Daemon takes off on Caraxes.

You do not go to the maester's, instead, you have your servants draw you a warm bath and stay in it until it is cold. Only then do you scrub your skin until it is tender.

Once you were clean, you looked for the only person in the world that did not use your name interchangeably with hysteria: your twin.

"That uliginous blinkard," Gwayne slashes the dummy before him. You watch him pace from the bench you were sat upon. "He is incapable of procuring a morsel of dignity out of his wretched existence."

You clench you jaw when he chucks his sword to the ground.

"I should smother him in his sleep."

The thought chills you.

"But then I would be no better than he, would I not?" he seethes as he walks to your side, grabbing the towel beside you.

He wipes his face. You look up at him, a line forming between your brows, "remember you are my confidant, not my vindicator."

"If not I," he chucks his towel back beside you, "then who?" His forehead wrinkles, "an affront to my twin is worse than one to myself."

"Then you would know better than anyone that I share your sentiment," you grab his arm, hoping to calm him down.

His face is hard. He pushes your hand away.

You sigh, "and you know well that I suffer more in circumstances where you've acted on my behalf."

He clenches his jaw. He draws a deep breath and denies the thought with the shake of his head, "father will not hold it against-"

"Father holds everything against me," your eyes instantly water, "he would not be our father if he did not."

Your twin has never spoken your name any other way but in gentleness, yet it is precisely why it chips you apart. Gwayne continues, "be it as it may, but I do not believe that he gave to the prince— certainly not willingly."

You laugh and lift your countenance to the sky. Tears fall from the corner of your eyes, down your ears and neck, "does it matter?"

"It does," he urges, "he fought for you."

"He does not fight for me," you turn back to him, "allow yourself to come to terms with it as I have. It will hurt you less."

Gwayne does not manage a response as someone else speaks in that moment. The way you both tense at the sound is that of instinct.

"You vomited in the dragon pit?"

You turn over your shoulder and shoot up from where you sat. You watch as your father walks towards you. He places a hand on your neck and looks you up and down, "did the prince jostle you so on his ride?"

His touch is like a searing rod against your skin, his eyes, even worse. The raised hairs on your neck remain even as he pulls away. You quietly retort, "I did not even touch his saddle."

"Oh," Otto raises his brows, "then perhaps your affliction is that of you carrying."

Carrying?

Both you and Gwayne are mortified by the idea. You stutter, "s-surely it is not that quick."

"The blood of the dragon runs hot," he sighs, "as he would so boldly proclaim."

Your face burns upon hearing this.

Your father looks past you, "take your sister to the maester at once."

"No, I-"

"Make sure that she is good condition and take note of what will be instructed of her."

"That is not-"

"I am sure she will be required to take further precautions because of her affli-"

"We did not!" you blurt, finally regaining the attention of your father.

Your heart races as Otto looks at you. Suddenly, you are like a deer shot by an arrow, pained and powerless. He is annoyed that you interrupted him, only to say nothing. He presses, "we did not what?"

You take a strangled breath before reply, "we... did not consummate ou-"

"You what?!" he steps forward.

Gwayne immediately takes your arm, eager to get between you two, "father-"

But Otto does the same and pulls you toward him, "you did not consummate, or you did not want to consummate your marriage?"

Gwayne's hold on you falters. Your saliva lumps in your throat, "I-"

"You do understand the consequences if you do not bear your husband heirs, correct?"

You turn to your feet, unable to hold his heated glare, "I-"

"Look at me when I speak to you," he shakes you.

You lift your eyes, and hot tears begin to rush down your face.

"You've proven your point, father," Gwayne blurts, "release her."

"Release her?" Otto redirects his ire. Though he does just that, it feels as though an iron clamp around your neck replaces your father's hold. "Even if I were to release her, boy, your dearest twin sister will not be free of the truth," he turns back to you, "nor my point. Your failure to do what is necessary will lead you straight into the dragon's belly."

You clench your jaw tighter than anyone should.

"Do you understand, girl?"

You nod before you allow yourself to breathe. You blurt, "yes, my lord."

Otto looks you once over before turning around and walking away. The moment he is out of sight, you fold like a deck of cards, and Gwayne must keep you upright.

He hushes you and sits you back down. He kneels in front of you, observing if you were about to collapse into another episode. You do not, for he was with you, but you do weep until tears could no longer fall. He leads you to your room after this and urges you to rest.

You repeat the prayer you prayed on your wedding night before you sleep.

[venusindelusion]

Giving In (to the Love): Townie

1st chapter

SUMMARY: If you thought you had terrible luck before, tonight will definitely prove that your life is jinxed when a misunderstanding with a pink haired girl makes your college life a little more difficult. WC: 1.3K PAIRING: Vi (Arcane) x Fem!Reader WARNINGS/TAGS: MDNI, mentions of alcohol, drugs (weed), underage drinking, miscommunication, and obviously cursing. A/N: I'm currently obsessed with Vi and I need more slow burn fics of her so this is totally self indulgent. Also, english isn't my first language so apologies if there is (surely) any mistakes, please enjoy :) more notes at the end btw Second chapter

The loud music throbbed through the walls, echoing in your head as you were waiting outside the bathroom door. It felt like you've been standing there for ages, waiting for whoever was inside to finally let you have the chance to go to the bathroom. You knock on the door again, awaiting an answer, but all you can hear is the sound of that damn music, so you decide to go downstairs again.

Putting a feet in front of the other feels painfully unnatural, all you want to do is lay down and puke somewhere, but you couldn't find any spot that wasn't crowded and you certainly don't want your classmates seeing you in that state. It would be so embarrassing if someone took a picture of you vomiting the noodles you had for dinner because you were so lazy to cook a proper meal before drinking. Now you regret it.

Once you reach the final step of the stairs, you look for your phone in one of your pockets. It's a good thing you decided to wear cargo pants instead of a dress; otherwise, in your state, you would have lost your purse with your phone and little money with it.

"Why are the letters so tiny?" you tried to text your friend, she brought you here and she should be the one to save you now, "She'll understand," you think as the only word you're able to type and text her is "Out".

Looking around you see some people dancing, couples sticking their bodies together and things getting heated. You can feel your legs trembling a bit, unable to hold your weight much longer, your head spinning and the music painfully penetrating your ears. Your friend is nowhere to be seen and you're getting nautious again, so you decide to walk to the kitchen and get some water.

"Fuck, where is it?" you wander around in this unfamiliar house for what felt like forever until you catch a glance at someone coming out from a room with bottles in her hands. You don't recognize her from class, you would've noticed her peculiar blue hair and long braids, and how she looks a bit younger than you or your classmates. She looks back at you with her eyes wide open like a deer in headlights, then laughs and continues her way to what you presume is the backyard. You figure that if she got alcohol bottles from there, there must be water as well.

"Bingo!" you scream a little louder than you'd like once you cross the door and see the kitchen, walking to the fridge and taking out a bottle of water. You feel your phone vibrating inside your pocket, you take it out and read your friend's "Coming." reply while taking a sip of that sweet and very much needed liquid.

"Fuck!" you spit the remainings of it, feeling your throat burning and your stomach growling even more than before. Who puts vodka inside a water bottle?

You lay against the kitchen counter for a bit in a lame attempt to stay focused, you just have to stay put and wait for your friend to come find you from wherever she was in this damn house.

Determined to not pass out, you go outside following the blue haired girl's trail to get some fresh air. You feel like your head is going to explode, you've been taking for granted your ability to walk without stumbling into things. Your eyes feel heavy, blinking slower everytime as you work your way outside and coordinate your brain and hand to open the door.

It's way less crowded than you thought, only a few people smoking and chatting, you see a couple making out against the wall like no one can see them. But you can. And it's disgusting.

The air is a bit refreshing, definitely better than the smells of heated bodies, booze and weed that filled the house inside. Not that it makes you any less wasted, but it's something. You go around the house trying to find a spot where no one can see you once your stomach decides it can't take it anymore and you see the blue haired girl from before laying down with her eyes closed and empty bottles surrounding her. She's passed out. Walking as quickly as you can to her, you shake her body and try to wake her up. She does nothing besides groaning and mumbling nonsense, so you start to panic and look around you, begging internally that you can find anyone who's more sober than you to help this girl. Your stomach keeps growling at you and your throat burns, tightens, threatening to throw out all the damn booze you drank before. God, what were you thinking?

The world spins around you as you try to focus your vision on this girl and you were right, she is definitely much younger than you, no alcohol should have been near her at first. You reach for her hand, trying to free the bottle from its hold so you can try and sit her up, worried that she'd throw up and drown in her own puke. It takes all your drunk strength to push the bottles around and move her body. While you're grabbing one of the bottles to throw it away, you hear heavy steps coming closer to you and thank the heavens for hearing your pleading; it must be the help you needed.

You turn around and see a muscular figure, heavy boots stomping on the ground with fierce and her pink hair fluorescent in the lights; she looks back at you with a scowl, her hands in fists and quickens her pace. You gulp.

The air around you gets thicker, heavier, hotter; it's like she's inhaling every atom of oxygen while you shrink down to shrump size, getting closer to you as your head is spinning, trying to focus your vision and stand up.

"What the fuck did you do to her?" she asks, her face so close to yours that the air exhaled feels like a shot straight into your face.

You only manage to mumble something incoherent and she pulls you aside, making you stumble over your own feet as she is starring at the bottles.

"She's wasted…" you hear her whispering to herself, scrunching over to caress the younger girl's face and removing the lose hairs from it, "you gave her fucking booze?" she turns around and stares at you, her gaze filled with rage and frustration, you can feel it burning your eyelids.

"No, I—” your brain is betraying you, you put your hands against the wall trying to remain on your feet and explain the situation, but your throat is threatening to let it all out for good.

She clicks her tongue and lifts the young girl from the ground, holding her like she weights nothing on her arms and takes off, leaving you feeling miserable and confused.

You hear a voice calling your name and fast steps approaching, you turn your head and see your friend. Relief washes over your body, your legs no longer able to hold you standing and you give in so you sit on the grass.

"Cait…" were the only words coming out of your mouth in a whisper before you throw out and felt your eyelids closing themselves.

A/N: comments and reviews are appreciated! if you want more let me know :) i have a long series in mind for this

[asdfghjklmals]

LEARN TO LOVE✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff, angst. WORD COUNT: 1.9k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, boyfriend!gojo, adopedkiddos!megumi & tsumiki

SYNOPSIS: satoru brings home two kids for oc gojo girlfriend to raise with him without her knowing. AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is how oc gojo girlfriend meets tsumiki and megumi for the first time. i try to keep as factual as possible with the manga/anime, but some details might slip through the cracks. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

“gotcha! i’ll take care of things. you’re gonna have to work extra hard, i’m counting on ya,” the white haired sorcerer chirped at his newly kidnapped? adopted children.

“first things first kiddos, there’s someone i’d like you to meet.” satoru gojo chimed as megumi and tsumiki fushiguro backpacked their belongings to tokyo jujutsu high school with him.

“are we meeting someone important?” tsumiki curiously asked.

tsumiki fushiguro was a cheerful child who always had a smile on her face. she wore the cutest pink dress with ruffles. megumi glared into the distance as he followed behind them.

“absolutely. the most important person in my life!” satoru announced, grinning. he beamed with pride towards the kids, hiding the terror of the fact that he didn’t even tell you that he was bringing two kids home for you to help him raise.

tokyo jujutsu high: the girls' dorm

you were studying for the second years' final exam, something your boyfriend also should've been doing but he was off doing who knows what. just because jujutsu high wasn't a "traditional" high school, didn't mean you didn't deserve an education as well.

a familiar knock on your dorm room's door startled you out of your studying. it was none other than satoru gojo, you could tell just by the way he knocked on your door. you turned around from your desk as satoru opened the door and called out to you.

"(y/n), hey."

well, that sure got your attention. not even a greeting with a pet name?

"hi babe," you greeted him with suspicious eyes.

satoru had two kids with him. they were both carrying backpacks while satoru rolled two large suitcases next to your bed.

"who are these kiddos?"

you looked at the two children. there was a boy and a girl. they couldn't have been more than 8 years old. the boy had dark blue spikey hair and green eyes (he also looked miserable). the girl had a brown ponytail and a sweet smile on her face.

"they're our kids now", satoru looked at you and grinned.

this man had to be joking. they surely had to be his younger cousins you hadn't met before. however, you were pretty sure you met a majority of his family when you went back to visit the gojo clan over the summer break. and there was no way he was a father of two at 18 years old.

"hey you two, go on and sit down for a bit. i have to talk to miss (y/n) for a second."

the two children obediently sat down on your dorm room's floor. the girl took out some snacks and the boy took out a book. satoru grabbed your hand and led you to your bathroom, closing the door with haste.

"satoru, who are those kids? i want the truth, please." you sternly asked him, furrowing your brows in disconcertment. you used his first name in hopes that he would understand how serious you were.

"i'm taking them in." he shrugged nonchalantly.

"what? what do you mean you're taking them in? you're literally 18. you can't be a dad. you have to be joking." you looked at him in bewilderment.

you started to laugh in disbelief. you knew that satoru gojo said crazy shit, but this one took the cake.

satoru took off his sunglasses and grabbed your hands, pulling them close to his chest. he stared at you intently. you could tell he wasn't joking. he called you by your first name, which he rarely did. he preferred the sweet couple-y pet names.

"(y/n)." he said with the utmost seriousness.

"satoru." you replied back calmly.

"remember when i killed the man that almost killed me? toji fushiguro?" he said quietly.

how could you have forgotten?

you hated remembering that you almost lost him. it was terrifying and you'll never forget finding him on the school's front steps with a faint heartbeat, knocking at death's door. you did everything you could to heal him with reversed cursed energy while he tried using his own reversed cursed technique to heal himself. (read ‘the honored one’ here)

"that kid, the one with the blue hair. that's his son, (y/n). his father sold him to the zen'nin clan for money once he turns of age—which is 8 years old. he ran off with his wife once he got the money and never looked back." satoru explained the situation to you in hopes that you would understand.

"you mean... those two kids were abandoned?"

how could a parent do that to their child? you couldn't imagine how frightened they were.

"exactly. his father and the girl's mother ran off and left those two behind. they have no one, babe—and out of the goodness of my heart, i went to find them." he just had to input some self praise in there, it wouldn't be satoru gojo without it. you rolled your eyes at him.

"is it because you felt bad for killing his dad?" you whispered to him.

"i guess you can say that," satoru said with some guilt, "but because if they go to the zen'nin clan... they're going to hate it—especially tsumiki."

you knew there was bad blood between the gojo clan and the zen'nin clan, but also, the zen'nin clan prioritized blood ties and inherited techniques. women in that clan were treated horribly. if you didn't have a speck of cursed energy, living there was a nightmare. tsumiki would be tossed to the side and treated ruthlessly. you didn't even know the little girl, but something in your heart told you that you had to protect her.

"so this kid, since he's a zen'nin—is he going to be a jujutsu sorcerer?" you asked satoru.

he looked at you with calculating eyes, "i talked to the higher ups yesterday. i convinced them to stop the sell of the kid and that i'd take him in and raise him to be a jujutsu sorcerer. when he turns 15, he'll attend jujutsu high. they'll give me financial aid to raise both of them."

now, satoru gojo would not be in charge of their finances. that would be your job. with the way that man spends, he would bankrupt them.

"how do you even know he'll be able to see curses?"

there were so many questions you had, but so little time. the children were sitting literally outside the door, waiting for you and satoru.

"i just have a feeling that the kid will. i don't believe the girl will since she's not toji's biological daughter."

"how old are they, satoru?"

"the kid with the blue hair, his name is megumi. he's 5 years old. the girl that's with him is tsumiki. she's 6."

"and you, my 18 year old boyfriend, satoru gojo, are going to raise them?" you looked at him with skepticism.

"no baby, you're going to help me." he grinned at you.

"seriously?"

"you have what they say a 'motherly touch'. there's no way I can raise a girl, babe. who's gonna have the puberty talk with tsumiki? not me. you have to help me, please."

he grabbed your hands again and begged you with his stupid puppy dog cerulean blue eyes that you couldn't say no to.

you bit your lip in worry and looked at the door. could you and satoru really raise these two kids on your own?

you sighed and reluctantly replied, "fine. i'll help you."

satoru grabbed you by your waist and lifted you off the floor, twirling you around in a tight hug. he kissed your forehead.

"we can do this, babe. we can make the world a better place for these kids."

you hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek as you scratched the back of his undercut with your nails in comfort. you could feel satoru melt in your arms.

you understood how he felt and what he wanted to do for the future of the jujutsu world. he wanted to create a safe and fostering environment for the upcoming generation of jujutsu sorcerers. you supported his vision, and you would walk through the depths of hell with him just to help him achieve just that.

once you let go of him, he grabbed your hand with a cheeky smile. he opened the bathroom door and sat down on your bed, looking at the kids.

"sorry about that kiddos!" he laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. the two kids looked up at you and satoru.

"hi, what are your names?" you crouched down at the two of them, hoping to get them to open up to you. you and satoru would be their guardians, so it was time to start building a relationship.

"my name is tsumiki," the young girl smiled cheerfully, "and his name is—"

"megumi", the younger fushiguro interrupted her.

"that's my little brother." she added.

megumi didn't make any eye contact with you. he just continued to chew his food and read his book. tsumiki was so cute and personable, and she chewed her food so happily—they were complete opposites.

"well, it's nice to meet you tsumiki and megumi." you gently said to them.

"nice to meet you too, (y/n)!" tsumiki chirped.

"megumi, you need to show some respect to your elders when they're talking to you. say hi to (y/n) at least. she's talking to you." satoru said with a sprinkle of annoyance.

he had told the two how important you were to him, so why wouldn't megumi give you the time of day?

"it's okay, babe." you patted his thigh. you gave your lover a soft smile.

you knew it would take some time for megumi to warm up to you. you sat down next to the two kids and your heart felt warm. you felt like you wanted to protect them, save them, make sure nothing bad ever happened to them. you watched as tsumiki tried to fix megumi's hair, but he would just push her hand away every time. he looked like he was going to be a pain in the ass.

with time, your new goal in life was to become a responsible guardian for these two kids. you wanted to make sure they grow up strong, independent, and honest. you were going to make sure that megumi and tsumiki learn to love you—and satoru, of course.

EXTRA:

"who's bed are they going to be sleeping in?" you asked satoru at dinner.

"why don't they sleep in your room for now? you're always sleeping in my bed anyways." he replied as he continued to chew his food.

"but my bed is bigger and more comfortable." you argued.

you had a custom king sized futon shipped from your hometown of osaka when you first started school here at tokyo jujutsu high. it paid to be from a big shot sorcerer family.

"well, they're not sleeping in mine."

"being a parent means that you have to compromise, satoru."

"we can figure it out tomorrow. how about i ask yaga-sensei if he'll give us an extra room for them?" satoru petitioned.

you glared at him and he just raised his eyebrows as if he didn't suggest something ridiculous. after your late dinner, you and satoru cleaned the shared dining hall and walked back to the girls' dorm where your room was. you opened your door to find megumi and tsumiki sleeping peacefully in your bed.

"i guess my bed is big enough for 3." you said quietly as you smiled at the sleeping children.

"what about 4?" satoru grinned.

read the next chapter ‘pinky promises’ here.

© 2023 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

[muffinsin]

I hope you’re enjoying your vacation! I had a fun thought and I’d love to know your HC on it. Which of the Dimitrescu sisters has the largest to the smallest breasts? And how would they go about using their breasts to tease and fluster the reader?

Awhh thanks hon! Writing this as I’m on vacation and it’s fire🙌🔥 I love that prompt, I’m surprised I haven’t done it before :)! Thanks for the request, let’s get into it!🙌

Masterlists

Bela

Her breasts are, size wise, ranked between the ones of her sisters

Pale as the rest of her, with slightly darker pink nipples that match her body perfectly

Round, and tight, just enough to press perfectly against her dress, yet never spill out

Her areola are thin, yet again they suit her quite nicely

Though what makes hers stand out are just how sensitive they, and the rest of her body, are

Especially her nipples are incredible sensitive and, with her right tactic, can bring her right to the edge of an orgasm if toyed with correctly

Despite not having the largest breasts between her and her sisters, they’re still quite of ample size and just a little larger than the average maid’s hands

Her favorite way of flustering you with them is by leaning over your desk, by far

Bela takes great pleasure in seeing your cheeks burn up adorably and to hear your heart suddenly pound faster and faster

And most adorable of all?

Your eyes, trying their very hardest to meet her own, golden ones. She knows fully well how hard it is for you to keep them there

And she loves when your eyes occasionally drop to her breasts, barely contained by her dress in this position

It always has your heart beat faster and palms turn sweaty. It’s truly her favorite thing to tease you with, her thick thighs and seductive voice aside

When feeling a little more experimental in the bedroom, she likes to use her breasts, too

When using a strap/reader has a dick, she likes to wrap her breasts around it and bounce them slightly

Not only is the visual stunning, but due to Bela’s own sensitivity in her nipples you easily feel the flustering, bubbly feeling in your belly at her sinful moans

Whether you feel it or not, the display is enough to make your head spin and for you to throb in want

Bela knows exactly how to work her body, and it’s very clear

This only makes you more flustered, often

In turn, you can often turn the table quite easily on her by toying with her nipples out of the blue

It’s something that usually catches the tall woman off guard, enough so for you to snicker and steal a kiss from her

Cassandra

Between her and her older and younger sister, she has the smallest boobs

And while they are still of ample size, Cassandra likes to rely on her thick ass to fluster and lure you in

She knows her strengths and with her strong arms and thighs, shapely hips and thick ass she hardly ever cares for her chest

Her nipples are a slightly darker shade of her pale greyish skin

Her areola are of somewhat average size, though sport small scars from when she accidentally nicked herself with her sharp claws when scratching herself at night

She doesn’t mind them, if anything finds they add a cool image to her chest

Adding to her, somewhat neglect of her chest, her breasts and nipples are by far less sensitive compared to those of her sisters

Shortly, she finds herself little intrigued by them, though enjoys using them to fluster you

Often, she does this without meaning to, in fact, relying so very much on the rest of her body

Occasionally, when feeling frustrated, Cassandra pulls you close to her to rest her arms, sometimes even her head on top of your head or shoulders

Only does she forget she’s, due to her not-quite so human nature, rather tall

And your face is usually not by her neck or shoulders, but rather right between her breasts

And the best?

The dress pushes them up and together nicely for you

You nuzzle them every time she does this, even as your cheeks burn like hellfire and your knees feel weak

When having cooled off, she usually pulls away, quite confused, but amused, to see you this flustered

Though, you know it is dangerous to tempt the huntress

Your nervous glances and quick heartbeat, your warm cheeks and weak legs often tempt her a little too much, so that your flustered state ends with a wolf-and deer type of chase in which you are to run from her like “the good little mouse you are”

When catching you, as she always does, it depends entirely on her mood whether punishment or reward awaits you

Daniela

Between her sisters and her, it becomes quite obvious that Daniela has the largest chest

Large breasts, soft and sensitive to the touch

Her own and yours, that is

Her nipples are a dusty pink color, whereas her areola are a similar shade of pale and pink

While all of her is somewhat sensitive, her breasts and especially her nipples take the top

She likes including her breasts when playing with herself or with you, whether she’s on top or not

Her favorite are beautiful, dark green or red ribbons that go around her breasts, hips and shoulders. They make her look nice and wrapped up, hugging her wide hips and round, soft breasts

Aside from this, when feeling particularly kinky and submissive, she likes to tease you by putting on accessories

Accessories, such as nipple clamps

Once she’s pierced them and you could have sworn you’d pass out. She looked fabulous with the silver piercing her sensitive, soft skin, and quite liked the look even

Sadly, her quick regeneration would not allow her to truly pierce her nipples for more than a few hours, sometimes even only one tops

Perhaps a fun idea when playing with ice-cold piercings, sometime…

When playing, she likes to squeeze them and moan sinfully in your ear

Your heart beats faster and it often results in your hands greedily reaching for her

She loves it, giggling and moaning every time she manages to get this reaction from you

Daniela, like her sisters, knows her own body perfectly well, and knows how to work it in her favor

She’s particularly fond of teasing you with a lapdance, when she’s facing you and her chest pushes up against you, barely contained by her tight dress

Sometimes, you are allowed to keep your hands on her breasts, squeezing greedily as she does this

At other times, she likes restraining you and practically pushing them in your face as she dances

She swears you make the cutest of sounds!

[respectthepetty]

The Loyal Pin - Episode 10

Last episode, my Wild Ass Theory that Anin and Pin will inherit their mother's colors as they come into adulthood resurfaced as Anin wore a yellow dress when she left the beach, and this episode, she wears a blue and yellow skirt as she asks her brother to teach her how to drive.

Anin's brother is wearing blue, so I had high hopes for him being supportive of Anin this episode, and the piggyback ride as well as the purple flowers helped me keep the faith.

But Kuea stays pissing me off, and Anin's younger brother seems oblivious to anything beyond his own little get-everyone-hitched agenda.

So, of course, Kuea runs immediately over to the main house DURING HIS WORK HOURS to snitch on Pin. I appreciate that everyone keeps questioning his worth ethic though.

But the mom is wearing pink and blue, so unlike Anin's older brother, I have no idea how she'll take this news. Pin is wearing a darker pink now though, so I think the adult responsibilities are coming sooner than the girls are realizing.

AND WE GET BACKSTORY! Part of my Wild Ass Theory was that Pin's mom was a lesbian. She has her more vibrant pink color, but at times she wears yellow/orange. I guessed the yellow/orange came from a previous lover.

So her opening a sunflower ring was all the evidence I needed.

I don't know if Im's color is peach or pink.

But I can't focus because Patt is on the floor looking like a snack, and I think she is in blue.

Then, we see Im and Patt's love story. Patt was Im's companion and Im is still wearing whatever color she is wearing, while Patt is fully in blue.

And they were in love with each other.

Patt knows what Pin's ring means because she was once Pin. Im gave Patt the yellow flower ring in the same way Anin gave the ring to Pin.

But there was no happily ever after for Patt and Im because Im died!

I thought the backstory would help clear up the colors and the confusion, but it didn't! Patt seemed colorless in the past like Aon is now. If Im's color was pink, then it makes sense Patt carried it with her all this time. And if Im's color was peach, it makes sense that Patt uses it every now and then, yet it doesn't explain why Patt shifted her color from blue to purple. It also doesn't make sense why she was so upset about Pin's ring. It's not like Im rejected her or left her for a someone else. Im died. They loved each other. That love was real and never doubted, so why is she upset at Pin's ring now?!

The girls and their colors are evolving, but they are changing together, so what is the mom so afraid of? If we had seen society or some external factors harming Patt and Im's relationship, maybe I could understand, but the backstory just makes me think she should be more supportive of the girls' love.

But here she is now fully in her color and throwing her support behind Kuea! I do not comprehend this.

I'm shocked that Anin's older brother seems to be the only one with any sense! I was worried when he showed up colorless, but he helped to cover for his sister.

And now he can get that ally badge for supporting the color-coded couple!

Anin and I both love him dearly!

But Patt is still bothering me! She is a lesbian! She shows up in yellow and orange because she still loves Im. So why not let the color-coded girls be IN LOVE?!

Pin's color is getting redder just like her mom's, and I'm worried that her mom is going to push even harder next episode for her to get married. We have six episodes left. Even though I don't fully know what the colors mean, the reds and yellows/oranges are showing up too often now for me to ignore.

Just like Anin sneaking up on Prik, these colors and adulthood are sneaking up on the girls while they are just trying to enjoy their lives.

By the end of the episode, the color-coded girls in love seem to have sorted their issues out because Pink Person Pin is looking lovely.

Which is probably due to her getting all of Anin's attention after not seeing her for a weeks.

And Blue Beauty Anin looks refreshed the day after.

So of course this chick with her can't-get-one-consistent-color self would ruin the color-coded happiness I wanted to feel secure in!

Patt's color confuses me, but Aon's color(s) frustrate me because I don't know if she is trying to be Pin which is why she wears Pin's color(s) or if she has no real identity and will shape herself into whatever she needs to be to please Anin because she never wears a consistent color.

And I know this frustratation is going to stick with me next episode because my babygirl is crying, and I'm already salty about it.

At least Pin and Anin will be solely in their colors next episode, so I have nothing to worry about with them and their relationship, right?

*Heng walks into the scene* FUCK!

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Hey, I was wondering if you'd do a Roy Kent x reader series (maybe) where she asks him to pretend they're boyfriend/girlfriend because her ex-boyfriend is marrying her somewhat younger sister. Kinda like The Wedding Date (if you've seen it). Ends up happily ever after?

Ahh, I was going to originally try to do this in one go, but decided to do this in a few small parts so I can get some fluff breaks while working on my longer fic. Here's part one!

Playing Pretend (Part 1)

Roy Kent x Reader

1.9k words

Warnings: Language, references to possible cheating, mutual pining, major rom-com vibes

Summary: The reader has a huge favor to ask Roy Kent- a guy who can never say no to her.

Series Masterlist

“What the fuck d’you want me to do?”

“Be my boyfriend,” you explained slowly. “At the wedding.”

Roy wrinkled his nose. “There’s really no one else you can ask?”

You let out a giant sigh and tapped the side of your beer bottle. “I mean, sure, maybe. But you’re Roy fucking Kent. You’d be kind of perfect.”

His eyes bore into yours. Roy Kent had known you quite literally your whole life; he could still remember when his very pregnant mother took him to the hospital to meet you, his sister’s future best friend. Your families were ridiculously close. Up until you were about sixteen, he thought of you as an annoying little bonus sister; then, one Christmas, he came home and suddenly felt decidedly un-brotherly towards you. The way you smiled at him, the way you wore that pink dress, the way you kissed his cheek before you left at the end of the party, all of it made something snap in his brain. For years after that, the very sight of you burned his chest. But there was no way he could tell you; his little sister’s best friend? Cliché.

But those cliché feelings meant he couldn’t say no to you. Not when you’d called him late at night needing to escape from skeevy dates. Not when you’d begged him for an autograph from Jamie Tartt. Not when you’d demanded to know where he got the kebabs he brought to his sister’s parties. And definitely not now, when your heart was in a million pieces as you watched your baby sister get ready to marry your ex-boyfriend.

The idea was insane, you freely admitted that. But the situation you found yourself was equally insane, if you were being honest.

You had dated Jim for years. And Roy fucking hated him. The guy was everything Roy wasn’t: friendly, outgoing, affable, posh, clever. And you loved him. Your parents loved him. Everyone loved him.

When Jim ended things out of the blue three years ago, everyone was shocked. He hadn’t proposed, per se, but it was expected. Things were implied. You’d started looking at rings and thinking about venues. So, when he suddenly broke up with you, you were devastated. You’d spent more than a few nights curled up on the couch at Roy’s sister’s house, with Roy taking Phoebe out of the house so you could mourn with your best friend in peace.

Just when you thought you were pretty much over things, your baby sister Lauren came home with big news. And a ring on her finger. And Jim.

You’d quietly excused yourself from the party she’d chosen to announce her engagement at, walked into a bathroom and vomited, and called Roy. He’d picked you up and drove you to his sister’s, where he watched you drink whiskey straight from a bottle and cry in his sister’s arms.

Now you sat next to him at a bar, where you’d asked him to meet you so you could ask him a huge favor. He’d expected tickets to a match, or help moving to a new flat, or asking him to donate a fucking kidney, literally anything but this. A weekend at some posh estate where your whole family would be celebrating your sister and fucking Jim, watching your heart break all over again sounded like absolute shit to Roy.

But you looked at him with those stupid pleading eyes. “Please, Roy,” you begged. “You’re the only guy I trust enough for this. You’ll protect me. You always protect me.”

There it was. It wasn’t just having the big football star on your arm to show off to everyone; it was having someone you felt safe with. Someone who wouldn’t mock you. Someone who understood. And Roy was always determined to be that person.

“Fine. I’ll fucking do it.”

His cheek burned like fire where you kissed him in gratitude. “Thanks a million Roy! This is why you’re my favorite fella.

Favorite fella. You’d called him that for years. Your mother was the first person to say it after seeing the way you toddled after him all the time once you’d learned to walk. Through the boyfriends you had, through the models he dated, you assured him time and time again that he’d always be your favorite fella.

Roy ignored the warmth in his chest and sipped his beer. “Doesn’t it feel a bit like you’re stealing your sister’s thunder? Bringing a professional footballer as your date?” he mused, anxious to move the conversation along and distract himself from how fucking pretty you looked.

The shrug you gave held a coldness he didn’t know someone as kind as you could muster. “Well, she did steal my boyfriend.”

The smirk that Roy gave made your heart flutter, reminding you of all the pining you’d done for him over the years. “Fair enough.” He looked thoughtful. “You don’t have to answer but… did he… and she…?” He nodded emphatically, not sure how to finish that sentence.

Another shrug. “Who fucking knows? I don’t need to know. They didn’t have the decency to tell me they’d started shagging, that’s all I need to know.”

Roy’s heart was sad to see the hurt in your eyes. He quickly changed his tone. “Can’t believe my sister isn’t invited. Figured you’d wrangle her into keeping you company all weekend.”

You snorted, one of Roy’s favorite sounds. “Oh, she was,” you corrected him. “She’s protesting because she hates Jim and my sister.” You raised your bottle to Roy appreciatively. “Yet another reason to invite you- I need at least one Kent there. And Phoebe couldn’t do shots with me or carry me back to our room when I’m sloshed.”

That was a job Roy wouldn’t mind doing. “Bit surprised I didn’t get an invite. Only known Lauren since she was fucking born.”

“Oh, there was no way you were getting invited. Jim hates you.” Your tone was so matter of fact it took Roy off guard.

“Excuse me?” Roy’d had no idea the disdain was mutual.

You nodded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah, when we were dating, he did not like me hanging out with a dishy footballer. Hates your guts.” Your face lit up playfully. “Yet another reason you’re the perfect wedding date.”

Another smirk crossed his bearded face. “Dishy? Is that his word or yours?”

With a laugh, you shoved him, slipping into that familiar old comfort, the one that made you forget he was Roy Kent. “Don’t go getting a big head, otherwise you won’t fit in the car.”

~

Two weeks later, Roy felt his grip on the steering wheel tighten as he pulled into the drive of the estate the two of you would be spending the weekend at. Of course Jim’s family had gone all out for the wedding. Wanker.

Your leg shook almost violently as your eyes darted around. Instinctively, Roy reached out and took your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Three days,” he reminded you. “That’s all we��ve gotta get through. Rehearsal dinner tomorrow, wedding Saturday, stupid brunch on Sunday.”

Looking down at your intertwined fingers, you nodded. “Maybe we can skip brunch?” you joked.

Deciding he should start playing the doting boyfriend now, he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand. “We can abso-fucking-lutely skip brunch.”

And you knew he meant it. Roy always meant it. It was one of the million things that made him your absolute life-long unattainable crush that you thrust into the back of your mind. You always felt like a dumb little kid around him, as if you never quite outgrew the childhood you’d shared, but part of you hoped this weekend together would maybe help him see you in a different light. Besides, Roy’s sister was right when she suggested that Roy would really get under Jim’s skin.

As if summoned, Jim came bounding out of the house, waving at the familiar sight of your car. You felt your breath catch as you gazed at him. Jim. Your Jim. At least, what used to be your Jim.

You got out of the car and waved back. “Hey there!” you called, as if you hadn’t spent the last nine months avoiding him at every family gathering he and Lauren attended.

His smile faded when Roy got out of the car, wearing that signature scowl of his. “Roy!” Jim shouted, quickly recovering. “Didn’t know you were coming.” Now in front of you, he leaned closer. “Thought you were bringing that mystery boyfriend of yours,” he whispered, ignoring the fact that Roy could hear him.

Alright. Here we go. Time to sell it.

“I did,” you chirped brightly. You waved Roy over and wrapped an arm around his waist, while he placed a hand on your shoulder. “Surprise!”

For all the years you’d spent with Jim, you’d never seen him so red in the face. “Oh! Wow! That’s great!”

Roy smiled, a smug grin that felt so fucking good on his face. “It is great, isn’t it? Me and this one, finally getting together.”

Jim cleared his throat, squirming like a worm. “Right. Well, when did this-”

“Sister!”

Lauren came sprinting out of the house, squealing as if you were her favorite person in the world. She wrapped you in a hug and planted multiple kisses on your cheek. When she pulled back, she finally noticed Roy.

“Oh. Roy. What’re you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Lauren,” he muttered through his teeth.

Your sister turned to you. “What happened to mystery boyfriend? I was so looking forward to meeting him,” she pouted.

You laid a hand on Roy’s stomach, pulling him close, pretending as if you did this all the time and not just in your dreams. “Well, I’m not sure introductions are necessary, considering you’ve known him forever,” you joked, hoping your tone was light.

Lauren looked as if she was doing a difficult maths problem. “I’m sorry, Roy? Your mystery boyfriend is Roy? As in, known him our whole lives, football phenomenon, used to chase you around the backyard with spiders Roy? That Roy?” Her eyes darted to Jim, who looked just as confused. “Are you joking?”

“Absolutely not,” you lied. “You said I could bring a date. I told you I’d bring my boyfriend.” You nodded towards Roy. “There he is. Is there problem or can we grab our things?”

That superior smile your youngest sister often wore appeared. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” She judged Jim. “Love, could you send someone to grab their things?”

Roy rolled his eyes with one of his familiar groans. “Just tell me where the fucking room is. I can carry my own shit.” After a quick look from you, he cleared his throat. “Sorry, just a bit tired from the drive. And, if we’re being candid, kind of want to get this one alone for a bit before dinner, you know?” A kiss landed on the top of your head, painting your face a deep red.

The bride and groom both gawked at you, as if waiting for one of you to shout that you were kidding, that you were pathetically alone and that Roy was leaving. When neither of you did, Lauren cleared her throat. “Right. Um, when you go inside the housekeeper can show you where to go.” She turned to Jim. “We should go, er, check on that thing, right darling?”

Jim nodded, his eyes on you. “Right, right.” He offered a small wave. “We’ll see you later then.”

As soon as they were out of sight, Roy looked down at you, eyebrow quirked. “Well. This’ll be a fun weekend, hmm?”

[fanartlover1234]

A DEADLY THING

Y/n is ready to get revenge on Bridget and her boyfriend Hook is all in for it

Captain James Hook × Cruella de vil sister!reader

Based on a request from my dm

Hook x VK girlfriend where instead of just Uliana who turns into a flamingo it's also the reader who turns into a flamingo and plans to get revenge on Bridget

Y/n truly was never the one to go extreme on revenge, but now she was fuming.

It was barely past morning when Bridgets flamingo faethers, thosr stupid feathers turned her into a flamingo.

She and the rest where minding their own buisness in shadows when they noticer poor little Bridget handing out treat bribe as usual.

Uliana and Y/n couldnt help but justess with her a little.

Uliana snached the cupcakes and took off the feathers as Y/n slowly made her way there, her black heals clicking as her black mini dress hughed her curves.

"Thats Y/n De Vil, Cruellas younger sister and maybe the only one worse then Uliana" Bridget explained but quieted down when the girl steped infront of her and kicking the fallen tray of cupcakes at her, smearing Bridgets shoes.

"Oops" sound left from her lips before she steped back leaning on Ulianas shouldr and they split the feather four amd four.

"Wait thats too much" Bridget mumbled.

"Be silenent you little -" cough followed by another as all stepes back when Uliana and Y/n both began turning pink and not few seconds later both were chasing Bridget as the pink haired girl ran for her life.

Both girls ran to the side couryard before a push on they backs made them tumble into the fountain.

When they dove up Uliana kepr screaming about getting revenge while Y/n only cursed under her breath in annoyance.

She stumbles over as Hook steped forward taking his jacker off amd placing it over her shoulder.

"Im gonna kill her, im gonna make her pay for what she did" she mumbled all the way to the dorm while Hook only stayed silent too afraid fo get between her anger and her.

When they finaly reached her dorm she stood as the boy leaned on the door frame.

"Well if you need help ploting, y'know where to find me darling" he said reaching in her hair to pull out a feather.

A smirk on his lips as she annoyingly smiled when she blowed the feather from hims friends.

When she said goodbye and closed the door, she was met with Uliana.

"You know what im thinking?" She asked as she poped a candy in her mouth with a tenickle.

"Meet with the rest by the lagoon in 2 " Y/n said before walking in the bathroom when Uliana left.

In two hours the girl was making her way to lagoon and into the fish cave.

"You are late" Uliana said as she crossed her arms.

"Quit scolding and start ploting, you sound like merlin otherwise" Y/n said before walking over to Hook who swing his hooked arm over her soulder.

"How about we make her walk the plank" Hook questioned.

"Darlin' thats too easy" Y/n said brushing under her boyfriends chin with her red nails "we need something worse"

"Prick her with a thousand thorns" Malificent said.

"And what she fall asleep?" Uliana asked annoyed.

"Let burn her to a crisp" Hades obviously said while he's hair set in blue flames.

"Yeah let burn her to crisp" Morgie voted in on what hades had said but Y/n steped in annoyed.

"No, it should be worse, worse, worse than all of these" she said walking up the stairs as Uliana casted a spell so it would bring a perfect punishment for the pinky girl.

"Revenge should be vicious in whatever we do to that poor unfortunate soul should be ten times more cruel" Uliana said as she performed the spell "Calling all spirits of the Black Lagoon show me your recipe fit for her doom toxically sweet with a side of pure spite i need the perfect revenge that will bite"

The light opened as it showed a book and Y/n screamed in annoyance.

"What's this? A book, that's it? Iasked for a painful punishment"

Uliana stoped her when the plan begin to show itself "But hold up, wait, this might be evil on a plate. So I'ma serve her what she deserves, what she deserves "

"And that's justice, dressed up like the sweetest dessert. Perfect" Y/n voted in as she laughed out.

After figuring out revenge Hook and Y/n walked to the dorms.

Hook sat on the girls bed while she got ready, she pulled her black silk sleeping dress on and walked over to Hook who watched her intesly.

"If you keep eye-fucking me, i might not make it tomorrow" she said as she steped arma reach away from him.

"I dont need to eye fuck you, i do it in person rather my sweetling" he said pulling her on his lap both her leg on either side of him.

"Well perhaps after, i wish to see her poor little face when she turns" Y/n said as sne brushed her hand through his brown hair.

The boy smirked at her pulling her closer as he fell back on the bed now both laying down as the girl still sat on his lips.

"Oh i love it when you're wicked" he said.

"Is that so?" The girl asked mockingly before kissing the boy under her.

This was so fun to write and i hope i did a good job at this :)

[libraryofloveletters]

Written In The Book of Faith

Carlos Sainz Jr x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: lando being the most annoying little brother/friend, Carlos and lando playfully bullying each other, a bit of sadness, right person wrong time, a mix of fluff and angst, reconnection at the end.  

Word Count: 3.1k

Author’s Note: based off that trend on tiktok with the quotes that match the couples + despite the title, there are no religious ties/symbolism in this fic at all. -- also idk what this really is, I started writing and here we are. 

---- 

Act One: The most beautiful part is, I wasn’t even looking when I found you. - 2019, McLaren. 

“C’mon!” Lando pulled you ahead of his brother and his girlfriend, the younger Norris wanting to show you around the building.Lando’s sister in law, Savannah, was your best friend, hence how you ended up at the McLaren hospitality building on one of the busiest weekends. 

Silverstone was the home race, not only for the team but McLaren’s very own Lando Norris. 

“Oh! Carlos!” The younger driver shouts, his Spanish counterpart turns and smiles when he sees his teammate. “Mate! Why are we shouting?!” He teased, walking over to where the 4 of you stood. 

“Carlos, you know my brother and his girlfriend but this is Savannah's best friend, y/n. She’s joining us today.” 

You turn your attention to the driver across from you; fluffy brown hair, tanned skin, pink lips that pull your focus, only to be offset by the big brown eyes staring back at you. 

“Y/n, this is Carlos Sainz, my teammate.” Lando introduces the two of you and he sticks his hand out, “nice to meet you.” He smiles as your hand meets his. Carlos lets go of your hand and the loss of touch felt as if someone replaced his hand with an ice cube. 

Carlos’s eyes fixed on you, admiring the blue dress you had on and the way it fit you like it was made just for you. He smiled as his eyes met yours once more. 

“We’ve got to go,” Lando says linking, arms with you, your attention is pulled from the Spaniard across from you. 

“Stop looking at her like that,” He says to Carlos and pulls you away. Both you and Carlos go red, rolling your eyes at the younger driver. 

The day went by quicker than expected, the three of you watched the race from the McLaren garage and the rest went reasonably well for Carlos. He came in P6 and Lando came in P11. After post race debriefs and media, you all headed back to the hotel to clean up and have dinner. 

The hotel restaurant is fancier than usual, Lando wasn’t in the mood for fancy. The younger driver was like your little brother and somehow always got you to side with him. “Can we ditch?” The boy leans over and asks you but you shake your head, “your brother wanted to come here so Savannah is making us stay.” 

“No, C’mon.” He groans. “Let’s go get some pizza.” Lando says. 

At that moment, it's like Lando’s saviour walked into the room. Carlos, along with Rupert and his cousin, Caco, walked in. “Carlos!” Lando waved him over and he turned, making a beeline to the table you were at. 

“Muppet!” Carlos ruffled his hair, “what’s up?” 

“Join us,” he says, nodding towards the seat next to you. “No, I couldn't intrude.” He says, Rupert and Caco already in their own conversation with Savannah and Oliver at the table. The two of them have sat down already, it was only Carlos that was putting up a fuss. 

Shifting in your seat, you look back at Carlos, “it’s not an intrusion if we’re inviting you.” You nod towards the seat beside you since the other two had been filled. “Sit, please.” 

Lando leans forward, glancing at you two. “Oh when I ask, you said no but let y/n ask and all of a sudden you’re okay to sit.” He teased his teammate and Carlos reached behind you to pinch Lando’s shoulder which shut him up. 

His arm remained on your chair, resting there for a while as the waiter came around to take your orders. 

Despite Lando's efforts to make conversation with two of you, you and Carlos were wrapped up with your own conversation the entire night. Without the pressure of race day, and Lando pulling you two away from each other, it turns out you have a lot in common; you're both the oldest of three siblings, both career driven, both extremely playful and loved to have fun away from the pressure of life. 

“Are you joining us ?” Savannah called for you from across the table. “Joining you for?” You asked, not completely paying attention to what she was saying. 

“Germany, in two weeks. They’ve got a race.” 

“Oh, I couldn’t intrude. You’ve been kind enough to bring me along this weekend.” 

Carlos nudges you, “it’s not an intrusion if we’re inviting you.” He says, mirroring your words back to you. “Come as my guest then, Lando’s boring anyways.” He smiles at you. 

“Hey!” Lando groans. 

You can feel Carlos’ eyes on you as you speak to Savannah, the man studying you like he had to write a test. Memorizing your every feature; the way you smile, the curve of your lips, the bridge of your nose, the way your lashes flutter against your cheeks. 

The night wrapped up shortly after, all of you would be going home on Tuesday and then leaving for Germany the following Monday. You and Savannah decided you’d go out for a bit, grab a drink or two before calling it a night.  

Another outfit change was needed so you two left the boys at the restaurant and headed up. 

Carlos’s eyes follow you out the doors of the restaurant. The smile on his face was undeniable. “I see the way you look at her,” Lando whispers to his friend. 

He looks at the English driver, “what ?” 

Lando might be oblivious most of the time, but he wasn’t that blind. He could see that his teammate took a liking to you. 

“Ask her for her number,” He suggests, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “What? No. I barely know her, that’ll be really weird.” Carlos huffs to the younger man next to him. 

“How else are you supposed to get to know her?” He asks, “by staring at her like a creep?” Lando turns to face his friend and Carlos rolls his eyes. 

“Shut up, Lando.” 

Lando ignores Carlos’ nonsense, fully well knowing that his friend liked his other friend. Though Lando would never admit it, he liked cheesy romances and if he could play his part as the matchmaker in this one, he would absolutely do it. 

Carlos’s phone sat on the table, unlocked. 

The idea popped into his head as he reached for the phone. Lando typed in the number, adding your name to it. He set the phone back down in front of Carlos. He looks over at the phone and then back at Lando. 

“Is that..” “Her number? Yeah, don’t be stupid. Use it.” 

The boys split up and decided to go their separate ways for the night. Carlos says that he's gonna run upstairs and get his car keys before they head out. 

The phone in his hand as he headed to the elevator, he couldn’t help but look at the number. He glances at himself in the reflection of the elevator doors and decides to click the number. The line rings a few times before you pick up, “hello?” 

“Hi, it's uh- it’s Carlos.” 

“Oh hey!” You smiled, “what’s up?” You grabbed your bag as you stepped out of your room. 

Carlos stepped into the elevator, “nothing, headed up to get my keys. You?” 

You walked to the elevator, you hit the button when you realized the strap on your heel was undone. “Oh, Savannah and I are going out for drinks.” 

“I hope this isn’t too forward of me,” he pauses, glancing up at the numbers above the doors. You were fiddling with the strap and finally getting it into the loop when you stood back up. 

“I’d like to take you out, on a date. Like a proper date.” He finally speaks. 

“So Lando wouldn’t third wheel?” You laughed, looking at your reflection in the elevator doors as you tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. 

“Just us, no Lando.” He smiled. 

The elevator ding ran through both sides of the call and the doors opened. 

You and Carlos are face to face. 

His big brown eyes meet yours, and even under the horrible orangish lighting of the elevator, she can make out every single curve and line on his face. Carlos smiles at you, your previously pink lipgloss replaced with red lipstick that brought every freckle and feature on your face to life.

“So what do you think?” He asked into the phone despite being across from you. 

Nodding, you smile once more. Something you found yourself doing often in his presence. “I'd like that.” 

Act Two: Maybe we were meant to meet, but not to be. - 2020, McLaren. 

Life works in funny ways. 

You met this wonderful man, one who made you laugh and smile, cry tears of happiness, held your hand and hugged you when you needed support. You did the same for him but as the days went on, the distance between you two grew. 

More and more, the distance made you realize that you two just weren't meant to be. 

The teabag spun in the cup as you twirled the string. “This is it?” You ask him, looking across the kitchen at the man.

Carlos looked at you, the sadness written across his face was enough to make a grown man cry. “I guess it is.” He says quietly, saying it any louder would break him. 

“It’s what’s best.” You tell him, walking over. Your face to face with him, his hand reaching for you. “For who, mi amor?” 

Carlos's eyes are teary, you pressed your lips together and looked away from him, because one more moment looking at him would have broken you. “We can’t keep doing this, Carlos.” A hand comes up to rest on his cheek, he nods softly. 

“I know but..” 

“Please, don’t make this harder than it is.” You whisper to him. 

From the moment you met him, you knew he was the right person for you; this man was your soulmate but it was the wrong time. You were in different stages of your life. Carlos was leaving McLaren, moving to Ferrari which was his dream. You had just gotten your dream job, you couldn't just up and leave any week you felt like joining him. 

It wasn’t enough for you two to make it work. 

It was time to call things quits before you both ended up more hurt than you wanted to be. 

Stability was needed to make a relationship work and this wasn’t that. It was almost impossible for this to work.

Carlos pulls you against him, holding you close as he wraps his arms around you. “Te quiero mucho.” He whispers to you, his voice quiet. 

You hum in response, nodding. “I love you.” 

He held you for a few more moments, his arms squeezing you tightly like this was the last time because it was. You walked him to the door, Carlos held your hand, smiling at you as you two stood in the doorway. 

“Anytime you need me, I'm here.” He says to you and you nod, “me too. I’ll be watching.” You give him a smile and he pulls you in for one last hug, kissing your temple softly. 

“Okay go, you need to get on your flight.” You give him a light push. Carlos steps out, walking to the elevator. You watch from the doorway as he steps on and then turns to face the doors. 

He gives you a small smile. I love you, he mouths to you and you nod, holding back tears as you pull your lips together. 

Me too, you mouth back, a hand over your heart. 

Act Three: I don’t know what we are, but I miss what we were. - 2022, Ferrari. 

It’s been two years since you’ve seen him. Life has gone on, it’s not the same but it’s gone on because that’s what it does. 

Time doesn’t wait for anyone. 

Work brought you to London, you had a few days before you had to leave and you were meeting up with Lando, Oliver, Savannah and their baby girl for dinner later that afternoon. 

The weekend had been hectic, between work and the race, you hadn't had much time to actually work on the stuff you needed for when you got back. Hence why you found yourself in the coffee shop, nursing a now cold latte as you clicked away on your laptop. 

You took up a very small corner table at the back, you sat with your back to the crowd, your eyes fixed on the screen in front of you when you heard the person speak. 

Surely, you heard wrong. 

Must have, because you glanced over your shoulder and you didn’t see anyone you recognized. You went back to your work, scrolling through the files in search of the one you needed when you felt someone tap your shoulder. Finally, you turn around to see who it was and it turns out, you did hear correctly. 

“I thought that was you,” he says, a smile that pulls on your heart strings plastered on his face. 

“Carlos,” you let out a breath, smiling at the man.

He looked the same; same unruly brown hair, big brown eyes, pouty lips. Except he looked a bit older, mature so to speak. His stubble covered his jaw, a green sweater clinging to his shoulders as he stood in front of you.

“Can I...” he trails off and glances at the seat across from you. You breathe an oh and gesture to the seat, shifting to sit properly and he settles in. 

The cup had something black in it and by the smell of it, coffee. Some things don’t change. 

“You changed your hair, almost didn’t recognize you.” He says, sipping the black coffee. 

The long hair you once had now replaced by a shorter cut, the hair sat in curls on your shoulders. You didn’t change at all, hadn’t aged a day he thought. Must have been taking care of yourself. 

He tried to subtly ask Lando how you were ever so often, late night stalking led him to Savannah’s Instagram page in hopes of catching a glimpse of you; he always hoped you were happy. 

Carlos never knew you did the same but with Lando. You always checked up on him quietly; it was the little things, looking for him in the other drivers’ stories or posts, following his name up and down the leaderboard during the races. 

He was your soulmate; right person, wrong time unfortunately. 

“What brings you to London ?” Carlos asks after a minute. You shut your laptop, looking at him now. “Work, but also the race.” 

“Ah,” he smiles, “you were there? At Silverstone?” 

“I was.” 

“I didn’t see you.” 

“You know I don’t take much space, don’t capture the attention of the public quite like a Ferrari driver.” You joked, earring a smile. “Congratulations.” You say to him and Carlos’ brows pulled together like he had forgotten the momentous weekend he had. 

“Your maiden pole.. and your win? You were fantastic.” 

He smiles at you once more, “thank you. Did you watch the podium or were you hidden away like you always are?” 

“No,” you chuckled, reminded of his McLaren days when you always found yourself in the back of the garage, away from the view of the public. “I was there, watched you cross the line and everything.” You tell him. 

Carlos reaches over the table, his hand rests on yours. “It means a lot that you were there.” 

“You didn’t know I was.” Your eyes find his. “I did always say you were my lucky charm, didn’t I? Life works in mysterious ways, amor.” 

And that it does. 

Out of all the places to bump into him, a coffee shop in central London wasn’t on your list. 

There’s comfortable silence between the two of you. The hustling and noise of the coffee shop fizzled away as if you two were in your own little bubble. The phone on the table buzzes. 

From Lando: pick you up at 6?

You pick it up and type back a response. 

To Lando: Make it 6:15, headed back to the hotel now. 

From Lando: sounds good. 

“I should get going,” you tell him, slipping your laptop into your bag as you get up. Carlos mirrors your actions, standing. “Let me walk you out, I'm heading out too.” 

His hand rested on your lower back as he led you out of the busy cafe. The touch sent a shiver up your spine, it was as if nothing had changed; the touch was so natural as was the way you leaned into it. 

“Which way are you headed?” He asks and you nod to the right. “I’m the other way,” he tells you. 

“Well, it was nice to see you.” You say and Carlos reaches for you, pulling you into a hug. You lean into the man, he instinctively wraps his arms around you a little tighter. 

Just the two of you once again. 

“I really do need to go,” you whisper to him and he hums, rubbing your back softly before he takes a step back. 

Old memories bubbling up onto the surface and any more time together, the two of you would be in tears.  

“Hold on!” Carlos says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out what looked like a crumpled up receipt. He’s feeling his pockets but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for. 

“What?” You look at him, “do you have a pen?” He asks and you peek into your bag before pulling one out. 

The man scribbles something down on the paper and hands it over to you, along with the pen. Nine numbers scrawled on the back of a receipt. “In case you're in Madrid,” he says, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Call me.” 

The number on the paper was the same it had always been; the same number you had memorized since you met him. 

“Okay.” You nod, tucking it into your bag with the pen. 

“Okay.” He nods, the two of you lingering in the street outside of the coffee shop. His brown eyes meet yours, “goodbye y/n.” He says quietly. 

“Goodbye Carlos.” 

---- 

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[deepdeanvsweston]

Trans Alex headcannons <3

- actually Daisy who gifts her her first dress, a silky blue number she wore for an exeat weekend one time thrown onto Alex's bed with a note that reads 'i didn't want it anyway'

- (Daisy is less than pleased when Alex comes in and gives her a huge hug)

- Alex learns to plait her hair from George, who of course just already knows how to do it

- following this, she orders in fancy hairstyle instructions from women's magazines, which Daisy and George pore over trying to work out how they do them

- she is of course also autistic, and stims by swishing her skirts round her legs

- Alex really likes the way heels look on her, only they hurt her when she wears them and this makes her cry because she WANTS to wear them > Hazel stops wearing heels in solidarity

- George is a little bit more excited than he'd be willing to admit at the opportunities that half the Junior Pinkertons being a girl now presents

- she used to dislike dancing as she felt she was too lanky and awkward, but LOVES it now as she's the one being led around the dancefloor and can twirl her legs and skirts as much as she pleases

- Alex and George are embarrassed that they had to ask Hazel how to put on a bra >

"No, Alex, I think women clip it up at the back..."

"How? Surely there's an easier way..."

- she eventually comes out to Harold (he is like a brother to her at this point) and Alex can't tell if he's truly ok with it or not until he asks her to dance at some party, him leading > she glows with joy all evening

- hates mirrors but loves what she looks like in shop window reflections as if she moves quick enough she looks just like a Woman On Business

- hates tights and thinks they should die a fiery death

- now she's come out, Alex feels like she's 'allowed' to do and have all the things that were period-typically reserved for girls, so she starts to decorate her room differently, with embroidered flowers on her sheets and at least 2 music boxes

- (Alex likes that the teeny ballerina inside one of them looks like her)

- pyjamas make her really dysphoric, even if she's wearing her new Girl™ pyjamas, so she wears George's instead > partially because of comfort, but also because it relieves her dysphoric feelings as in her head it explains them away by it being someone else's clothes and not her thinking she just looks bad in her own

- you may have noticed she keeps her own name > just genuinely likes it, and also she couldn't get used to a different name

- Daisy starts calling her a shrimp because it's her 'first year' at being a girl

- just really loves skirts trust me when I say this

- Alex both despises and adores the beach > despises it because you wear a swimming costume and adores it because you wear a swimming costume

- (has a complicated relationship with swimming costumes as it's like the one thing she was most jealous she couldn't wear as a boy but also they give her major dysphoria)

- all Alex's toys as a child were girls, and made her brother pretend they were Nancy Drew and her friends on a case when they were younger > she of course played as Nancy Drew

- her favourite lipstick colour is pink, and she purposely tries to leave a lipstick mark on all her drinks glasses and mugs simply because it makes her happy to see

- idk I just love her so much

[ohlawdthebirds]

Suit and Tie

Abby Anderson x gn! Reader

This fic was inspired by a drabble written by @toasty-melons! This one specifically.

Also, pretty sure this photo was edited by @abbystanaccount, but I could be wrong. Please correct me if I am!

You were a bit scared to approach the mirror. You weren’t sure if you’d like what you saw looking back at you, whether the suit would look as good as it did when you saw it in the store. Looking back on it, you were more than hasty in your purchase, not even bothering to check the size. But even if it didn’t look good, you had no other options. You silently cursed yourself for waiting until the last minute to find a formal outfit for Ellie and Dina’s wedding.

The original plan had been to wear a dress, sure, but as the wedding date got closer and closer, you found yourself wavering in your decision. See, the problem wasn’t wearing a dress, far from it. The problem was that you had recently found yourself leaning outside the comfort zone your wardrobe provided. Maybe it was the beautiful butches and studs your social media feeds graced you with, maybe it was your girlfriend donning a suit herself for the occasion, or maybe it was simply curiosity. Either way, the day before the wedding you rushed to your local mall and bought the first suit you saw.

The suit itself was nothing remarkable. A single-button black blazer with black slacks to match. Your dress shirt was a clean, crisp white and the tie that came with it was a skinny thing, the same midnight black as the blazer and slacks. It was simple and you’d paired it with the cutest chunky loafers you found in the depths of your closet. It was a miracle everything fit, snug yet comfortable enough to dance in once Ellie inevitably goaded the DJ into playing the entirety of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of The Moon.

You inhaled deeply, holding it for a beat before slowly pushing the air through your teeth. This would be good; things would be just fine. You stepped closer to the mirror, eyes immediately catching on the lopsided tie strung around your neck.

“Aw man, you gotta be kidding me,” You began fiddling with the tie, crossing it over itself to try and resemble something close to a Windsor knot. No matter what you tried, it kept coming loose. A quick glance at the Casio on your wrist revealed you had little more than an hour to finish up and head over to the venue. Your fingers quickened, frantic.

Heavy footfalls sounded from behind you. Your girlfriend, Abby, came into view in the mirror. You halted your tying, opting to pivot and stare at the eye candy she was.

God, you told Abby nearly everyday just how gorgeous she was (to which she would blush and scoff) but today? In a navy-blue three-piece suit, complete with brown loafers and her wire-frame glasses, your lover was something out of a sapphics wet dream. Her hair was out of its usual braid, blonde locks down and wavy at the ends. “You good, babe? Seem to be, uh, struggling with that.” Abby did a poor job of holding back a laugh.

You rolled your eyes. “Hush. I’m trying to get this tie done because we have to leave soon.”

Abby came closer, thick fingers reaching out to release the tie from your grip. “Want some help? My dad used to have me help him tie his ties when I was younger. Said it was a good skill just in case I needed to ever help out my husband or something.”

This time it was you struggling to hold back a laugh. “And now look at you. Not a husband in sight.”

Abby snorted at this, beginning to adjust the fabric and folding it over itself. “Nope, just someone I hope to make my wife someday.”

At this, you stilled. Looking up into those sky blues, you felt a smile creeping onto your lips. “Wife, huh? Well, you’re gonna have to wait until Ellie and Dina have their day, they’d kill us if you proposed during the reception.”

Abby completed the tie and straightened it around your neck, gently checking for creases and wrinkles. “I know, lovely, I know. That’s why I have an elaborate proposal planned. But you’re not gonna know when it’s happening.” At this, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Oh? And how do you know I don’t have a more elaborate proposal planned for you?”

Abby stepped back, smoothing down your shirt and buttoning your suit jacket. She dusted your shoulders free of lint. “You might, I wouldn’t know. I expect to be surprised, since you’re so confident in it.”

You shook your head, amused by your girlfriend’s antics. “Don’t worry, you’ll be plenty surprised. Now let’s get going, we don’t wanna miss the ceremony.”

As Abby turned to leave, you found yourself reaching out and turning your girlfriend back around.

“Wait.”

The confused furrow in Abby’s brow smoothed out once your hands began tugging across the fabric of her suit, similar to her movement on yours only moments earlier. You swept your fingers over her blazer, flicking off fabric pilling and loose threads. You slid your hands down her vest-covered chest, briefly tucking your hands into the spacious pockets and smoothing out the fabric within. Finally, you reached up and straightened her tie, making sure it laid flat down on her torso.

“There you go gorgeous. Now we’re ready to leave.”

Abby smiled at this, a soft one reserved for these more intimate moments. “Thank you, my love. Let’s go.”

On the way out the door, you found your hand drifting to your secure tie. “Your dad taught you well, babe. Maybe you can pass those skills onto Lev when he gets older.”

Abby barked out a laugh. “Absolutely, I’ll definitely do that. He’s gonna be the ring bearer in our wedding, after all.”

And off the two of you went, to celebrate your friend’s special day and begin planning one of your own.

[crimeronan]

Would love so so much for you to elaborate on the happiest looks for the oc quartet and what took you by surprise about them and what you think each of them conveys/implies. Sol I'm seeing longer hair and more comfortable less exposing clothing, etc, but can you talk a little about what each of their happiest option looks means and how it took you by surprise and how it contrasts with the reality and why it would be them at their best? thank you!! if you do

oh this is so sweet 🥺 thank u for permission to infodump about my guys.....

reference images here!

i often joke that devin and i have the same gender feelings in opposite directions, which basically boil down to, "i know i'd be a lot happier with my body on prescription hormones, but i am Way too sick right now to give a fuck."

so like. a happier devin is one who's been on E for years and grown her hair out for just as long. i was taken by surprise by Just How Femme she was (...similar to me having some weird masc revelations doing the same exercise for my idealized self).

also was mildly surprised that her clothing remained exactly the same as in the main verse. i played around with all the other clothing options, but a black tank top + ratty pants + bare feet are all Quintessential Devin Items.

the very visible scarring is bc she's never cared if people see that her body is fucked up & i want that to be true in the happy timeline too.

ruby's surprised me in that i didn't have to change much at all to get her Idealized External Self. she's already pretty true to what brings her joy. in professional environments, her clothes are much more muted, but everything she's wearing could come out of her non-work wardrobe.

her hair is worn fluffy instead of in box braids because she would Love to dye her natural hair like this. however she does Not love the need to carve out time and motivation to maintain it every damn day for the rest of fucking eternity, so. box braids it is!

also important is that ruby isn't wearing anything practical. those sandals aren't safe for difficult hikes/on-your-feet labor. that skirt is a massive mound of fabric. that jewelry gets in the way, that shirt has no armoring or support, she hasn't prioritized pockets or a practical bag or hidden defense weapons or anything. this ruby is free of basically all of the responsibility and weight dragging her main timeline self down

sol's long hair surprised me -- she had long hair when she was much younger & she has not wanted to grow it out again for trauma reasons. but she likes it better long. so a long-haired sol is one who's overcome at least some of her trauma. her hair has been silver since birth but the white streaks signify that she's aging gracefully & older than she ever expected to become

as for her clothes, it's comfy athletic wear that she's wearing for the sake of mobility and comfort. (with the red-and-black shoes to sneak in a little of her murder aesthetic.) in the main timeline, she'd SAY that she dresses for herself, but the amount of sharp & tailored & restrictive clothing she wears is.... Definitely for other people. or at least, it's for preserving her own image toward other people.

and then transmasc butch nova. LMAO. GOD.

main timeline nova puts an insane amount of effort into "i'm a pretty barbie girl <333" and has sunk So Much of her self-worth into being blonde and blue-eyed and glowing and gorgeous. she also has watercolor sleeve tattoos, but when i did her full-body picrew tats, black ink felt..... more correct. like. what would your tats look like if you weren't a Rainbow Goddess of Light

and then the rest of it is also very. what would you be if you weren't a Rainbow Goddess of Light. if you take away all the Rainbow Goddess of Light features, nova is.... desperately unhappy. and desperately compensating for something. and i think having top surgery and working as a butch car mechanic somewhere would fix her.

as for the pink shoes and hot topic jewelry, that's just bc i think nova would find it fun to do gnc nonsense. nova-without-divinity isn't A Man or fully married to doing Man Things... i feel like it would be wrong for her to just go as gung-ho for performative masculinity as her main timeline self does for performative femininity. nova-without-divinity is wearing whatever she wants and looking however she wants and being hilarious and delightful while she does it <3 god bless.

[tree0frog]

A rose by any other name

Series masterlist

Hazbin masterlist

Main masterlist

Previous

Warnings- deal making

You looked down at your pinky finger to see a red string appear, it was faded but it was there.

“Are you all right my dear?” Rosie asked looking a little confused.

You blinked, clearing your mind from the haze that it had entered.

“Yes I'm quite alright sorry” You smiled at the overlord.

“Oh my now tell me dear how did such a pretty face end up somewhere down here?” the demon questioned now standing as she looked through a rack of clothes in different shades of red pinks and even some purples.

“Ah well I killed my husband,” you said watching the overlord with a keen eye.

“Oh my stars did you really oh I just know that the two of us will get on just wonderful don’t you think my dear” Rosie asked as she held up a red dress eye black eye darting between the dress and yourself.

“Why don’t you try this on and see if you like it or not,” Rosie said handing you the dress you smiled at the woman before she showed you to a room where you could get changed.

“Are you all right my dear?” Rosie asked.

Her head poked through the side of the door as she spotted you.

“Could you lace me up Miss Rosie?” you questioned holding the two strings behind your back and looking at yourself in the mirror.

It was the first time that you had a good look at your self your skin once its natural colour was now a paler version with a light purple tint to it and you had green vines going down your left leg it looked almost embedded into your skin.

Rosie’s eyes sparkled as she walked behind your frame.

“Oh don’t you look lovely, i’m sure you will have all of the men asking for your hand” she said not missing the way your face scrunched up when she said the men would ask for your hand.

Teing the last not in the corset for your dress Rosie let out a small hum, she could see this arua about you almost like a power just waiting to be explored.

~Time skip~

You sat outside on one of the many benches in cannibal town people watching, there were people of all different ages and races from sinners to hellebores.

Rosie had been kind enough to give you a spare room for the time being it wasn’t anything fancy it was just a plain box room with a bed a desk and a wardrobe which was county empty.

“Hey give it back” You turned to see a shark demon take something from one of the younger demons just outside of the two.

You weren’t sure what made you do something or even how you did what you did but the next thing both you and the child know the shark demon is coughing up blue petals which were slowly turning red due to his blood mixing onto the petals.

The coughing stopped and the demon fell to the floor.

“Thank you miss,” the child said as you kneeled to their eye leave.

“You not hurt are you?” you ask your eyes doing a quick scan on the small child.

Your eyes fell on a small leaf that was on the ground next to you, picking it up you held it in front of you and the small child.

“Let's make a deal,” you said softly the kid nodded eyes full of excitement.

“Any time you are in dangler hold this leaf and I will come to protect you” The kid nodded before speaking.

“Does this man you will take my sole?” they asked which made you think for a moment.

Would this child offer up their sole for your protection?

“Your sole for my protection how does that sound?” the kid nodded before taking your hand in theirs binding the deal a flash of green light splashed out making you squint your eyes a bit.

Over the next few weeks small in incidents kept happening,like the first time sinner gave you their soles for your help in one way or another.

“My my you made quite a name for your self my dear”Rosie laughed taking a sip of her tea or well you though it was tea but it looked more like blood than tea but who are you to judge.

“I suppose so mine you my dear Rosie this was never intentional”you laughed looking at the red string on your finger.

“What a strange fixture on your hands my dear”Rosie laughed.

“Well it’s just a red string on my pinky”you laughed.

“Oh my dear stars do you know what this means?” The overlord asked practically jumping in her seat.

You shook your head. No.

“Your soulmate is in hell my dear!” She smiled

“My what!”

~~~~~~~~~

Next

[ranchycowgirllover]

Alright so I made a Stella Re-Design, this post ‘ill be kinda long cuz I wanna explain things and such

My main problems with this design are 1- Details that are unneeded that lead to inconvenience in the animation department (like seriously watch scenes with her and focus on her lashes) 2- This outfit isn’t very regal, I’m guessing the bottom of the dress is supposed to resemble feathers idk it just doesn’t look good.

Alright so we have that out of the way, I have made a few different possible re designs. You’ll see the one I prefer at the end.

This one I tried to keep more in line with the original pink princess theme. Simplified the dress and hair (I imagine that her hair can fluff up when she’s angry) and I replaced the dark purple with a maroon. I also made her hair white. This way the only purple is her make up which should cause you to look at her face more.

This one is a more evil Queen inspired Stella, used the purple as a main dress color, I gave her green/blue eyes and grey hair which she had in the pilot. The eyes are help tell her apart from her husband, and the hair change is to make her look older and more regal. I changed the style of dress now she looks less little girl costume princess. (No hate to princess peach)

This is a younger Stella design that I did. My canon is that she was dressed this way as to appeal more to Stolas.

Now this is the final design that I chose. The purple is for royalty, I did away with the dark purple as to make her look less threatening. And the dress is rococo era inspired just because I those dresses no real reason

I also did a design for her brother.

His changes were simplify his outfit, and the other stuff like his hair were changed to match his redesigned sister

Alright so that’s all the art. The rest of the this is just going to be me ranting and raving about her character.

Okay so I think we should acknowledge how fucked Stella’s situation is. She’s in an arranged marriage and her only purpose in hells society was to give birth to an heir.

Stolas and her brother are shown to have magic powers, and Stolas we know he has princely duty’s so we can assume the same for her brother. Stella doesn’t have any of these she was meant to be a baby a maker. Even her name Stella compliments Stolas’s role as star prince or whatever.

Now in the first episode of season 2 we have Stella making fun of her husband how he’s bad in bed and how she’s glad she doesn’t have to fuck him because she’s given birth. I think this is Viv’s attempt at making this situation seem less fucked up.

I don’t even know it just makes me really uncomfortable that this very feminine woman in a shitty situation is being vilified. Like if I was in Stella’s situation I’d probably have anger issues too. I’m just so tired of being told that feminine outrage and displays of anger make us monstrous bitches.

Now obviously Stolas being forced into a loveless marriage also sucks and is an awful situation for him too. But he’s not that much better than Stella. Both are shown to be physically abusive to the castle staff, and Stella for all her faults isn’t black mailing someone into sex.

Now having two shitty people wouldn’t bother me if the narrative didn’t bend over backwards to make Stolas seem like such good guy, just an uwu gay bean. His wife is SO mean she won’t let the gay people be happy 🥺. Also painting abusers as cartoonishly evil monsters does a disservice to people who have been abused is all I’m saying.

Anyways I’ll hopefully have a Stolas Redesign up next

Bye now

[futurequibblerjournalist]

Would you mind giving my girl Charity some love? She's my fav Snapegang member and ur version is so special to me

Yes yes yesss I love my girl Charity so much I would love to talk about her!!!

Charity Grace Burbage was born on October 10, 1959, in her family home in Hodnet, Shropshire, England to Herbert and Dorothea Burbage (née Kelpis). She has one brother, Chance, who is I wanna say four or so years older than her??

Her father is a pureblood and her mother is a half-blood. I know many people headcanon her to be a muggleborn but her wiki says that while her blood status was unknown she was most likely a half-blood or a pureblood. Herbert was a Gryffindor like many of his siblings, though a handful of his siblings were also in Hufflepuff like Dorothea and her younger sister. I’m thinking Chance was a Gryffindor but I’m not 100% sure

Charity grew up with a father that valued academics and a mother who thought her best asset was her beauty. This has caused Charity to be partially conflicted when it comes to her intellect and you’ll be quite likely to catch her twirling her hair around her finger and pretending not to know the answer to something if it can get her something she wants

There are very few characters I think are truly popular at Hogwarts while also being actually cool and not just a nerd in disguise (as an example Sirius is a popular, cool person while James is a popular person who’s actually a nerd in disguise)

She’s always been very open and she’s adopted most of her friends tbh. Most people end up with a soft spot for her, often because she portrays herself as ditzy and a little useless?

She spent years trying to become friends with Aurora and when they finally managed to get a solid friendship going she was over the moon. She definitely got them friendship bracelets or friendship keychains or something except it’s not just made of braided yarn and cheap beads she got something hella expensive with fancy stones shimmering in there.

Charity is a yapper at her core. She can literally talk forever. Also, she talks "like totally like this, you know?" In the nicest way possible the girl loves the sound of her own voice. She loves herself. Not in like an egotistical way but she just genuinely loves herself and who she is as a person. She's naturally optimistic and it’s rare to see her without a smile

Speaking of things it’s hard to see her without,,,, pink. That girl is pink if pink was a person. With accents of soft yellow and baby blue. Honestly pan Charity is growing on me more and more. The girl literally dresses like the flag!!!

I cannot express how much she’s glitz and glamour. Her mother would have put her (and her brother) in pageants as children had they been American. And Charity would have loved it (honestly Chance might have too)

She’s got huge, blonde corkscrew curls, large blue eyes with long lashes and a mole on her left upper lip. Her nails are always done. She’s somehow always got glitter somewhere.

She writes a diary and she sprays the paper with sweet perfume before jotting down all her thoughts with a pen that’s got a fluffy end. She dots her ‘i’s with little hearts. She lays on her stomach as she writes and kicks her feet behind her as she writes

I think she gets along really well with Mary!!! She’s one of those girls with a lot of friends across houses and I could totally see her and Mary bonding over fashion, boy stuff, grades being annoying etc

If her jewellery isn't brand new it's something that's been in her family for ages, there's no in-between. She's got a lot of her grandmother's jewellery sets with matching earrings, bracelets and necklaces.

She wears cute matching underwear with fluffy lace on it and she walks around like that in the morning just to rile up Igor. She eats aesthetic breakfast with a cohesive colour scheme, frozen raspberries, chia seeds and almonds and modern au Charity is 100% an influencer

She names her animals after sweet treats/food such as Pudding the cat and Hollandaise (also known as Holly) the owl

Her room/flat is always a bit of a mess, not on purpose (she swears she’s a very clean person), but because she’ll put something down and forget about it before suddenly realising, moving it around and placing something new out of place lol

I've always found it interesting how Burbage is a, and this is a quote provided by the lovely Googlé, "habitational name from any of the places in Wiltshire, Derbyshire, and Leicestershire". It is never stated in canon where Charity is supposed to be from but she meets her end in Malfoy Manor which is canonically located in Wiltshire. Pulling from name meanings Charity also means dear; beloved; giving; kindness all things that I think shows a lot about who she is as a character (also I think people called seabunny Charity and her case, aka Charity Case lmao)

Also now that we're on the topic of seabunny vjfnjnnbg in aus Igor and Charity have a daughter called Evelina and she's very cute. I think Charity would love being a mother, she already values family a lot, but she would have to get Igor to shape up significantly because as he is rn he is not fit to be a father. I think no matter what she does there will always be a bit of the whole him valuing Viktor over Evelina. This is becoming more Igor stuff but he'd have an odd relationship with his daughter and Charity would very desperately try to fix it. I feel like he's the kind of guy who'd have both Charity and Evelina's names tattoed on him in fancy cursive but still be like "I'm gonna be home late today cause I'm taking Viktor to [insert sport]'s practice" yk??

[emhasthoughts]

So we meet again

Before you read: Check @dcartcorner's Elsewhere AU as this is taking place around the first bit of bundle 17. This has only been proof-read by me with the help of the documents corrections. So sorry for any potential error in grammar or spelling.

Summary: His parents' refusal to leave had also been a cause of why he never visited the train station. Most of the time the train would simply go past the station and town, letting the people inside see part of it for a moment while kids would sometimes gather close to a fence or the station to watch it pass. This day was different.

The town Michael Crew lived in did not get a lot of visits. Sure, people would move in occasionally, retired couples or families that were simply too tired of the bigger cities and wanted something smaller. There had been moments when Mike was younger when he wanted to move to somewhere bigger. He had asked his dad once. ”There’s pollution out there. You won’t be able to see the stars. I thought you liked the stars?” Had been the response. By now Mike knew there was more than just stars keeping them from moving. Family, friends, traditions and memories. Memories had been a reason Mike once begged for them to move. For nearly an entire week after being struck by lightning. He had cried and begged to move, to never face Dominic again, to never see the field again, to never see the faces of those who knew what happened to that poor little eight year old. In the end it did not work. 

His parents' refusal to leave had also been a cause of why he never visited the train station. Most of the time the train would simply go past the station and town, letting the people inside see part of it for a moment while kids would sometimes gather close to a fence or the station to watch it pass. This day was different. 

It was a rather cold autumn afternoon. Mike stood alone on the platform, watching the sky go from blue to pink as he waited for the train. Wishing for the train to arrive quicker with each passing minute as his hands started to feel like ice. Eventually it did arrive. Letting one single person out before continuing its way to the next town. 

The man was pretty much the opposite of Mike. Taller, not like it was much of a surprise, most of the other students in his class were taller than him by now. Hair black and tied into a bun, dressed pretty much only in black, tie, jacket, vest, shoes - did his trousers have a hole by the knee? The only exception was he white shirt and brown messenger bag. 

”Hello." Gerard looked him up and down for a quick moment. "You haven’t changed much Michael.” 

”Mike. As I’ve told you the last times we’ve spoken.” Gerard just hummed. 

”Right, right.” He got out a pack of cigarettes, looking around for a moment. ”This had best be important, kid.” He continued. Putting one into his mouth. For a moment Mike considered making a comment about it, how it was bad for people around him having to breath in the smoke, not to mention the smell. But he held back. Not like they were in a crowd and Mike had gotten used to the smell thanks to his friend.

”I’m not a kid.” Gerard raised an eyebrow. 

”What? You’re 18 yet?”

”Well… no-”

”There you have it, kid.” Alright, Gerard was really getting on his nerves now. He watched as Gerard lit his cigarette. 

”Fine.” He sighed. ”Can we please just leave? I’m getting cold.”

”Sure, lead the way.”

Mike was regretting taking Gerard to the library. He was quite fond of the place. A perfect place to hide if things ever got too overwhelming. He also preferred Martin Blackwood over the rest of the staff. Sadly said man was being threatened by Gerard. Mike just hoped he would be allowed back.