#but to be fair i just think he looks great in pink hair

[tomatoderby]

atzsource atinyblr revival week one:

      Cute bias moment OR Sexy bias moment

[ID: a screenshot redraw of Seonghwa of ATEEZ from the mv for their song The Real]

[sevilynne]

"B—but... Snivellus is a death eater..."

Listen here, you little shit. For Severus, he got neglected by BOTH parents (and it was implied that he was abused both physically and mentally as well.), gets bullied by two boys because he wanted to go to Slytherin (who sneers back and ends up getting bullied), almost gets killed and Sirius nor Remus gets any consequences other than detention (Really? Is his life worth detention and not Azkaban?), James flexes it to Lily and Lily starts believing James over the victim, Severus accidentally calls his bestfriend a mudblood over the heat of the situation (Lily was about to smile, when James literally used scorgify in his mouth), loses the person thay cared for him the most compared to others (Which Lily isn't even a good friend, so his life is messed up), with Remus and Sirius not maturing (Sirius still calls Severus "Snivellus", and Remus and Sirius spreading lies like "Severus was jealous of James" or "Lily never hated James," when it's the other way around!!! James was jealous of Severus because he existed and Lily was his best friend!

Now his blood supremacist friends are basically recruiting him, and helping him on the way! Basically, the "bad side" is his good side! They are the only ones who "cared" for him when he needed help! He was a death eater for a reason, and people manipulating him because he was vulnerable is a reason.

The audacity of stans trying to make a hotter version of Severus—Regulus? Regulus is basically a walmart Severus but Timothée Chalamet dressed up in wizard robes! If Regulus was told as ugly, nobody would boohoo care about him.

Y'all only hate Severus and love Regulus because J.K. Rowling never made a Marauders era movie! Regulus is basically a blood supremacist with Voldemort shrines and posters who'd call Lily a mudblood! While Severus is basically bullied on a daily basis.

You guys got to see Severus's good and bad things! Like him "bullying" children, but saved the wizarding world. Literally, maybe he targeted children, but so did Minerva! Minerva literally targeted Neville and locked him outside of the Gryffindor common room when there's an apparent psycho killer, and humiliated him infront of everyone! But we all never see that because we are in Harry's POV, she favours him—she only took points and she was apparently fair because Harry's BIASED!!! Just like how all Slytherins are portrayed because of Hagrid and Ron!!! She favours Gryffindor just like how Severus favours Slytherin, except she takes big points away (which is from Gryffindors she doesn't like) and when she's infront of the professors!

Severus is a morally grey character, and Regulus? We basically time skipped him, we skipped all of the bad things he has done while we never skipped Severus's, that's why you don't have a bad opinion about him, but really! In the Marauders timeline, Regulus was a Voldemort fanboy while Severus literally had stuff happening.

This is why you don't hate James Potter, you guys basically skipped HIS timeline and moved to Harry's, which Severus is portrayed to be this big bad bully until DH! And that's why Harry "Snape's #1 Biggest Hater" Potter's vision changed to "Snape's #1 Biggest Defender", just like how his vision changed from "My father is a great man" to "I fucking hate my own father".

But you guys are so deep into these fanfics like CR (Crimson Rivers) or ATYD (All the Young Dudes) that you all forget about canon lore! He physically assaulted, sexually assaulted, and mentally exhausted Severus! We're not throwing the SA word around, because lets think of this:

———

Lily let out a stream of mixed swearwords and hexes, but her wand being ten feet away, nothing happened.

“Wash out your mouth,” said James coldly. “Scourgify!”

Pink soap bubbles streamed from Lily’s mouth at once; the froth was covering her lips, making her gag, choking her —

“Leave her ALONE!”

James and Sirius looked around. James’s free hand jumped to his hair again.

It was one of the boys from the lake edge. He had black hair that fell to his shoulders and startlingly onyx eyes.

“All right, Snape?” said James, and the tone of his voice was suddenly pleasant, deeper, more mature.

“Leave her alone,” Severus repeated. He was looking at James with every sign of great dislike. “What’s she done to you?”

“Well,” said James, appearing to deliberate the point, “it’s more the fact that she exists, if you know what I mean...”

Many of the surrounding watchers laughed, Sirius and Wormtail included, but Lupin, still apparently intent on his book, didn’t, and neither did Severus.

“You think you’re funny,” he said coldly. “But you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave her alone."

Behind her, the Impediment Jinx was wearing off. Lily was beginning to inch toward her fallen wand, spitting out soapsuds as he crawled.

“Bad luck, Prongs,” said Sirius briskly, turning back to Evans. “OY!”

But too late; Lily had directed her wand straight at James; there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of James’s face, spattering his robes with blood.

James whirled about; a second flash of light later, Lily was hanging upside down in the air, her robes falling over her head to reveal skinny legs and a skirt.

Many people in the small crowd watching cheered. Sirius, James, and Wormtail roared with laughter. Severus, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though he was going to smile, said, “Let her down!”

“Certainly,” said James and he jerked his wand upward. Evans fell into a crumpled heap on the ground.

Disentangling herself from her robes, she got quickly to her feet, wand up, but Sirius said, “Petrificus Totalus!” and Lily keeled over again at once, rigid as a board.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” Severus shouted. He had his own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily.

“Ah, Snape, don’t make me hex you,” said James earnestly.

“Take the curse off her, then!”

James sighed deeply, then turned to Lily and muttered the countercurse.

“There you go,” he said, as Lily struggled to her feet again, “you’re lucky Snape was here, Evans —”

“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like him!" (Severus is canonically a Mudblood because he has dirty blood—Muggle blood)

Severus blinked.

“Fine,” he said coolly. “I won’t bother in future. And I’d wash your skirt if I were you, Evans.”

“Apologize to Snape!” James roared at Evans, his wand pointed threateningly at her.

“I don’t want you to make her apologize,” Severus shouted, rounding on James. “You’re as bad as she is.”

“What?” yelped James. “I’d NEVER call you a — you-know-what!”

“[...], walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can — I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.”

He turned on his heel and hurried away.

“Snape!” James shouted after him, “Hey, SNAPE!” But he didn’t look back.

“What is it with him?” said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him.

“Reading between the lines, I’d say he thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate,” said Sirius.

“Right,” said James, who looked furious now, “right —”

There was another flash of light, and Evans was once again hanging upside down in the air.

“Who wants to see me take off Evans’s skirt?”

———

Now, let's see if this isn't messed up. This is humiliating! Why did Severus leave his female best friend when she was being PA'd and SA'd by a male! Why did he take out his wand too late? Why is he such a coward?

Gender roles do matter in this context, no matter if Severus considers this as SA or not, it's SA and he got his pants stripped down, but it doesn't matter, he's a boy isn't he?

If this was Lily, everyone would care, but no! It's greasy, slimy, old Snape, and he's a boy.

Sirius nor James used dark spells, but they were pretty much using hexes so it doesn't matter—they are basically baby DE bullies but Gryffindors.

Stop attacking Severus and start thinking about this, because he was just a boy.

A lot of people (Not all) cared for Harry when Myrtle basically tried to SA him, why not Severus? He was stripped infront of the whole school! (Not invalidating Harry's trauma), this is just so messed up.

[ellecdc]

A Man With a Plan.6

prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU

CW: swearing, mostly fluff, funny moments with friends, no plot just vibes [crystal dialogue prompt courtesy of keke the unstablereader 🫶]

Though Remus was undoubtedly relieved that you a) knew of his affliction, and b) forgave him for his arseholery, he was admittedly a little more than slightly disappointed that very little had changed between the two of you.

Which made no sense on account of the fact that he never planned on anything changing between the two of you to begin with; he was discontent, nevertheless. 

“Oh, good, Y/N’s here. Listen, how the hell do I stop the nargles from stealing my things?” James shouted as you approached the table. You looked like you had perhaps only been prepared to say hello and carry on, to which James was having none of it and nearly bodily forced you onto the bench next to him. 

“Hello, Jamie. Do you have your cranberry seed oil infused corks?” You asked as you obediently took your seat.

James scoffed and pulled out a lanyard from under his uniform which, lo and behold, had a cork attached to it smelling very much like cranberry seed oil. “I literally never go anywhere without it.” He said as if you had asked a particularly ridiculous question.

You hummed and Remus watched a divot appear between your eyebrows as you scrutinized what Remus assumed was James’ aura or some other such entity. “Well, I don’t see any around you, James. What makes you think you have a nargle problem?”

James groaned dejectedly and turned back towards his lunch. “All of my things are missing! It started around the time you went missing.” James stressed, still not having completely forgiven you for your disappearance at the last full moon. “It was my school tie, and some socks, a quill set my mom got me at the start of school, and now I can’t find my herbology textbook!”

You hummed again and seemed to look around the table as if you’d somehow find his belongings there. “Perhaps you should ask your friend Peter.”

Remus heard Peter choke on his pumpkin juice as James, Sirius, and Remus all turned to look at him. 

“Uh...haha, so, funny thing...” He started, cut off by an indignant squawk from James.

“You were stealing my stuff!? Why!?” He cried.

Peter’s cheeks pinked though a pleased smile graced his lips. “You were so worried about Y/N being missing and the nargles taking your things. I thought a funny prank would lighten the mood; I wouldn’t get a chance like that again!” He defended himself. 

“You are so dead.” James muttered as Peter (wisely) took off out of the Great Hall with James hot on his heels.

“Alright Y/N.” Sirius started, throwing an arm over your shoulders. “You’ve gotta tell me; how’d you know it was Petey boy?”

A shy sort of pride painted your features and Remus thought it was the most beautiful you ever looked. “Wrackspurts.”

Sirius’ smile fell slightly, but the amusement never left his eyes. “Wrackspurts?” 

You nodded in agreement. “Mhm. His head was full of them.” You said simply as you took a piece of cut strawberry from James’ abandoned plate and popped it in your mouth.

Sirius nodded with a look on his face that seemed to say ‘fair enough’. “And how’d you know about this one?” He asked, motioning towards Remus with his head.

“About his affliction, or about his soulmate bond?” You asked as if you were simply talking about the weather.

Sirius cocked his head as he considered you. “Both.”

“His aura...or I suppose Moony’s aura.”

Remus felt his eyebrows recede into his hair line. “Moony has an aura?” He asked you.

You nodded in the affirmative. “I’m assuming you’re right-handed?”

Remus nodded numbly.

“Most of the lunar cycle, Moony’s aura sits around your left shoulder. As the cycle moves closer to the full, he resides on your right. Also, sometimes when I’m near, he tries to come closer. Would you say that’s true?” Your serene tone did nothing to calm the racing of his heart.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Sirius said, interrupting Remus’ internal struggle. “There really was nothing you could do to hide from this witch, huh Moons?”

Remus chuckled self-deprecatingly and looked down into his lap in a little bit of shame. Your smile never faltered, however. 

Peter and James returned then; James with a self-satisfied grin on his face, and Peter with his hair, shirt collar, and tie in disarray. 

“What’s so funny?” James asked as he sat beside you, smacking a platonic kiss to your cheek as he winked over at Lily from her spot further down the table, whose face turned a shade of red rivaling her hair at having been caught watching James.

“Remus and his last two braincells trying to keep Y/N away from him.” Sirius snickered. Remus kicked at him under the table which caused you to jump. He apparently had missed his mark and had kicked your shin by accident. 

“Fuckin’ hells, dove. I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Oh my gods...” 

Sirius barked another laugh as Peter whispered a quiet ‘dove?’

“Oi! You really have lost your gobstones! Can’t believe Moony’s the dumbest one out of all of us now.” James said as he checked your shin for injury under the table. 

“Remus isn’t dumb.” You defended the dumb bastard. 

“Well, you can’t say he’s very smart here, dollface.” Sirius conceded.

You hummed and shooed James away from your leg. “Wisdom was chasing him; Remus was just always faster.” 

This time, poor Pete lost his pumpkin juice completely as he sputtered mid-sip. You didn’t even seem to realize you’d said something particularly funny (or devastating) as James nearly fell off the bench in a fit of laughter and Sirius pulled you into his side.

“Oh, for the love of Merlin. Remus, please, can we keep her!?” He said in between bouts of laughter, wiping away a mirthful tear from under his eye.

Remus had no objections. 

What Remus hadn’t agreed to was this.

Remus understood that allowing Moony (and...himself) to keep you around meant that he would ultimately have to share you. He knew that he’d have to share you with James, he’d have to (rather unfortunately) share you with Regulus, he’d have to share you with Pete and Sirius who seemed just as enamored with you, and he’d likely eventually have to share you with Lily, Marlene, Mary, and the rest of his friend group.

He was however not in the slightest prepared to have to share you with the likes of Barty Crouch Junior. 

Remus had, quite happily, found you studying in the library alone and asked politely if he could join you at your table. The two of you had been studying in companionable silence when Regulus showed up. No matter, Regulus was quiet and diligent in his schoolwork. 

Then, Sirius had shown up perturbed that his baby brother and his best mate were hanging out (to which both Regulus and Remus vehemently denied, seeing as they were both here studying with you, not each other), and insisted he be involved. Though Sirius struggled with the whole sitting-still-and-quietly thing, he more or less managed to join the three of you without much fuss.

But then James showed up, which sparked a long and arduous debate between he and Regulus regarding which entity was worse – wrackspurts or nargles – to which you weren’t even a part of save for each of them calling to you in need of an explanation every so often. You would look up from your book and answer them politely before returning to your schoolwork as if you weren’t surrounded by complete idiots. 

Remus was lovestruck. 

And then Barty showed up.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” Crouch screeched as he ran through the library completely ignoring the shushing from other students and string of curse words following him from the crotchety librarian. 

“Hello, Bartemus.” You greeted the banshee serenely.

“Quickly, darling.” He started before promptly dumping a large sack of tumbled rocks and gems in front of you. 

“Where’d you get all of these?” Regulus asked incredulously, reaching to pluck a small stone that had rolled over to his open book.

“Never you mind that!” Barty shouted as he swatted his hand away. “Y/N - light of my life, apple of my eye - which of these crystals will help me piss of my dad the most?!”

Once again appearing completely unperturbed by the general chaos around you, you perused the crystals set before you. 

“Well, Carnelian can invoke passion.” You said as you plucked a red stone from the pile. “Garnet can invoke intense emotions: jealousy, anger, fear. I recommend pairing it with gold – maybe place it in a gold setting for a necklace or something similar. Dravite will bring up unresolved emotions...” And soon, two red stones and a brown stone sat in your palm as you held them before Barty. 

“Pfft, figures.” Barty grumbled. “Red and gold never fail to piss me off either.” He sneered, looking pointedly at the three Gryffindor’s seated at your table. Remus was not necessarily proud of the low growl that the comment elicited from him, but he was proud of the restraint he showed when Moony was screaming in his head to tear the fuckers head clean off his scrawny body. 

“Bartemus.” You chided gently, looking up at Barty standing above you like a parent might look at a particularly troublesome child: full of love.

Remus hated it. 

“Sorry my sweets.” Barty cooed at you and ran a finger along your cheekbone. 

Remus hated that more. 

“Mr. Crouch!” The librarian called, finally having caught up to her problem student.

“Well, I must be off.” Barty called casually as if it was completely of his own volition that he now vacate the premises. “Keep the rest, beautiful angel face. Much love!” 

And he was gone. 

Thank Merlin. 

“The friends you keep.” James muttered as he shook his head in disappointment as if he wasn’t one of said friends you keep.

“Oh, Bartemus is not so bad. Perhaps just a little misunderstood, and a little more than maniacal.” You put simply. 

James was shushed loudly by the librarian for his laughter.

“I’ll go check on him.” Regulus said as he stood. He barely spared the Gryffindors a glance as he nodded politely at you. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

“Goodbye Regulus.” You sang to him, smiling brightly like he had just been anything more than sort of polite to you.

Remus once again figured that was as much affection as Regulus could ever show. 

“You boys are welcome to help yourselves to the crystals. It’s a wonderful idea to take the ones that speak most to you.”

James exclaimed gleefully as he started to browse the many stones in front of you. Sirius’ face piqued in interest as he quickly plucked the most sparkly stone on the table.

“Jamie, you should bring this one to Lily.” You said as you handed him a small, slightly translucent pink stone. James didn’t bother asking questions such as ‘why?’ or ‘what is it?’ or even ‘should I be worried?’ before he accepted it, punctuating his ‘thanks angel’ with a kiss to your hair before he was racing out of the library.

“What stone was that?” Remus asked, unable to quell his curiosity.

“Rose quartz.” You responded simply.

“What’s it do?” Sirius asked.

Your mouth quirked in thought. “Stones don’t really do anything. They just encourage what’s already possible.”

Sirius rolled his eyes earning him a defensive kick in the shin from Remus. 

“What does rose quartz encourage, dove?” Remus placated.

“Love and affection.”

Remus nodded and watched as Sirius pocketed two more shiny and sparkly stones before his expression was painted with mischief. “Say, Y/N. What crystals should our dear Moony here have?”

Remus couldn’t even bother shooting his mate an unimpressed glare when your face picked up excitedly and you began sifting through the stones. He watched just as animatedly. 

After a few moments, you proudly displayed a small palmful of stones. 

Remus placed his hand palm up beside your much smaller one and relished in the intimacy of you gently transferring the stones into his palm; your hands gently brushing in the action.

“What are those stones?” Sirius asked curiously.

Remus swore some bashfulness painted your features as you pointed the stones out in Remus’ palm. He was thankful for the continued contact as you explained them all. 

“This is amethyst, which supports calmness; rids the mind of negative thoughts, and promotes dreamless and restful sleep.” You explained, causing Remus to nod his head. That could be helpful.“This is obsidian which helps one process their emotions.” That one earned a snort of laughter from Sirius. “Jasper is supposed to provide support during stressful times. This is moonstone which...well...I suppose that’s self-explanatory.” 

Remus hummed but couldn’t help but notice you failed to discuss the last stone sitting in his palm. He wasn’t going to push it, however.

“And the pink one?” Sirius asked sharing no such qualms, lips quirked in a smirk and eyes full of mirth. 

You cleared your throat awkwardly, clearly feeling slightly self-conscious, but explained it nonetheless. “Rose quartz to encourage love and trust.” 

Remus would usually consider himself a generally skeptical person: but you may have just converted him.

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[ambrozjas]

HII!! i saw in your bio that your requests are closed but i also see you responding to asks??? so i'm sosososo sorry if i wasn't supposed to ask but i just needed the gang (separate) x super energetic n positive reader (so like pinkie pie irl !) :3 again im sorry if i confused things with your requests!!!

the gang with an energetic!reader ꨄ︎

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

this is actually a great question and i thank you for asking it ^-^!! the reqs i’m responding to are just requests that are stacked up in my inbox, so when i have them closed, it just means i’m trying to catch up on asks and that i don’t prefer asks at that time :) i did LOVE writing this though, so thank you for asking about that i appreciate you trying to respect it !! ^_^ 🫶

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

let me know if there r any i need to add!!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“you had fun today?” came DARRY’s voice from the left of you as he sat in the driver’s seat, taking you home. you guys had decided to take johnny, sodapop, and ponyboy to the oklahoma state fair, which would explain the sleepiness that laced his tone. you, though, would practically be vibrating in your seat if it wasn’t for darry’s hand resting on your thigh.

still pumped up from the crazy rides at the fair, your eyes roamed across all the bright lights littering the city as you looked out of the car window.

“so much.” you responded, beaming at your boyfriend next to you before taking a look in the rearview mirror and spotting the boys asleep in the backseat.

“you think they did, too?” you asked darry, lips pouting dramatically at how cute the boys looked, even when soda was practically drooling on pony.

darry gave you a small ‘mhm’, a tiny smile growing on his face when he looked back at them too. “y’sure you’re not tired?”

“i’m so awake right now, dare.” you chuckled a bit, turning back around and resting your head against the car seat’s headrest.

you gave a few quiet ‘ooh’s as you both were still exiting oklahoma city, even if you guys were still a long way from tulsa, looking at all the bright lights and arrows urging future customers to visit the fair.

darry scoffed as he saw the pile of cars across the way, lining up in one big traffic jam. then he turned his head to look at you, he wondered how you could always be so optimistic. he smiled fondly to himself as he watched you, head held in your hands as the exotic lights bounced off your irises, reflecting all sorts of neon pinks and blues in your eyes as you didnt take them off the noisy attractions.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“be careful now darlin’, you’ll slip!” SODAPOP laughs as you two come down from the intense food fight you just had in the kitchen.

it all started with you accidentally dusting the counters a bit too hard when some flour landed on sodapop’s open plaid shirt. now you two were both covered in various ingredients, you’re sure the yolk would take about an hour to rinse out of your hair properly. the baking you guys were doing was forgotten in the background as the batter had probably already somewhat hardened during sodapop’s sugar assault on your favorite top.

you laughed as he held your waist, the both of you looking down at where your foot was just about to fall on the slippery remainder of egg yolk and milk on the kitchen floor. “that’s your mess!”

“you started it!”

“it was an accident, soda—!” sodapop placed a chaste kiss against your lips, licking his own after he pulled away. he made a small hum sound as his eyes trailed upward when he pretended to try to guess the flavor. “hm, strawberry.”

“gross.” you rolled your eyes, the two of you laughing uncontrollably as soda eventually did slip on the exact same piece of yolk he had warned you from stepping on. that is, until you heard the strong footsteps of his older brother make his way from the front door to the kitchen.

both of your heads shot up as darry cleared his throat, crossing his arms and tilting his head. it was like he had no words for the both of you, until he shook his head once and grumbled angrily.

“y’all better clean that up.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“so i was just tellin’ her about it and y’know what this lady does?” you ranted to PONYBOY as he sat across from you at the lunch table, his fingers fiddling with the holes in the metal mesh patterned seat.

he held his chin in his palm as his eyes flickered between you and the table, watching as you rambled about something a counselor had reprimanded you for or something, all he could really focus on was you. the way your eyes lit up when you were passionate about something, the way talked with your hands a lot, or the way you bounced in your seat at just the thought of your favorite song.

pure energy always radiated off of you, not even dallas winston could resist your charm. and ponyboy curtis certainly couldn’t either.

“pony-y!” you dragged out the ‘y’ in his name as you tried to get his attention, waving a hand in front of his face. he blinked and furrowed his brows as he muttered out a quick, “huh?”

“are you even listenin’ to me?”

“‘course i am.”

“what was i talking about then?” you batted your eyelashes as you inquired in a ‘matter-of-fact’ tone, leaning forward as ponyboy averted your gaze.

his face got hot while he stammered, mouth gaping open and closed like a fish before you waved a hand at him and flashed a big grin.

“my counselor.” came your sing-song tone of voice from in front of him.

“right! just.. tell me more?”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“JOHNNY, wait up!” you called after him, jogging up and gripping onto the straps of your backpack as it moved with your every step.

you saw him, head hung low as he looked so small compared to the towering figure of dallas winston right next to him. he turned around, that same puppy dog look in his eyes as usual before he looked up at dallas. dally gave johnny a quick wink before nodding his head towards me and saying his goodbyes while he walked off only god knows where—probably to stir up some more trouble.

johnny looked back at you, muttering your name as you finally caught up to him. “hey—! you goin’ home?” you asked, shifting your weight from your hands to your knees as you hunched over and caught your breath. johnny just nodded as he watched you regain composure quickly, already back and energized.

you circled around him with a flurry of questions, questions like how his day was or if he ate today. johnny always wondered why you asked him these questions, whether you cared or not was really his main concern although he’d never dare ask.

once you guys had arrived to johnny’s house though, came a ruckus from inside. the noise traveling outside the house through a sliver of open window as you both saw two figures screaming at each other.

you saw as the corners of johnny’s mouth twitched downwards as he winced at the sound of glass breaking.

then, almost like an miracle came your voice from beside him.

“wanna go to the lot?”

once he had looked at you, it was like an instant mood lifter. you had a boyish grin on your face with your hands shoved in your pockets as your eyes crinkled with how big of a smile you had glued to your face, as usual.

how could johnny deny you?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“are you always like this?” DALLAS said as he leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, watching as you danced around and made a mess with the baking supplies.

“like what?” your voice, jubilant as ever, rung out in dally’s ears. he always played it off as if he hated how joyous it was, but if he was being honest, the way the syllables rolled so quickly off your tongue was satisfying to him. he’d never admit it obviously. being dallas winston was a tough job to keep up.

you twirled around, reaching on your tippy toes to grab something off the fridge before spinning back around to pour milk in the mixing bowl, hips swaying to the faint music that you turned down to hear dallas over.

dallas scoffed, shaking his head amusedly while he lit a cigarette, eyes flickering up at you every once in awhile. “nothin’.” he muttered, words muffled around his cigarette.

he looked at you, his eyes were empty enough that anybody else would mistake his expression for annoyance, but you knew better. you knew dallas winston better than anybody. and as you danced so freely around the kitchen, like no one was watching you, dallas admired you. you were yourself, in this moment socs and greasers didn’t matter, nothing did. the only thing that mattered to you was getting these ingredients right, and you couldn’t do that with a little dancing.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“woah, darlin’! someone had a li’l too much sugar, huh?” TWO-BIT laughed as you bounced around. you were like a candle waiting to be blown out, flowing in place but still moving. you were definitely still moving.

you practically vibrated in place, your feet kicked in your seat as you giggled, talking about your day to two-bit. his grey eyes watched you with intent, his own grin painted on his face. sometimes he didn’t pay attention, other times he asked questions just at the right times. even if it was just pure luck, you appreciated his responses even if they were just ‘huh’s or ‘oh!’s.

“what do you think?” you finally stopped ranting, taking a break to ask two-bit once again what he thought.

he paused, taking a second to sip on his can of beer before looking off to the side in thought. then, as quick as it left, his smile returned as he finally laughed.

“i think you need a nap, babydoll.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“so what happened next?” STEVE asked, licking the spoon as he sat across from you in the diner as he watched you take a break from talking to devour a milkshake.

you smacked your lips as you swallowed and immediately put up your hand to express yourself further. “she cussed her out!”

steve raised his eyebrows as he broke off another piece of the diner’s famous cake—which he claimed was never better than darry’s yet he was still destroying it.

what you always appreciated about steve was his blind loyalty to you. even if he didn’t understand, his heart was in the right place. he gasped at anything dramatic, but he just loved gossip in general. him and sodapop were like kids around a campfire as they always circled around you while you explained to them the gossip going on around school.

steve watched as you rambled on and on, twirling your hair at certain parts and jumping up in your seat at important ones. by the time you both finished that conversation, your bill was racked up with how long you had took, and the waitresses were rolling your eyes at every “but, did you hear..”

that didn’t matter to you two, though. you just cared about talking to steve, and steve was too busy admiring you to care about anything else.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ my favs r fluttershy n rarity but tell me why i’m literally rainbow dash irl

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[thesummerestsolstice]

One thing I think about a fair bit is Finwe's name. Like, the elves are basically known for long, flowing, beautiful hair. But even amongst the elves, Finwe is the one who ends up getting named for his hair– it's so amazing that it is his defining feature. So what made Finwe's hair so great? Well, I have two explanations, which are best when used together. One is loosely canonical, and one is entirely non-canon but extremely funny.

First: Feanor's hair is compared to raven feathers. Raven feathers are black, but they're also iridescent– they shine green, blue, and purple at different angles.* I think it would make sense if Feanor inherited his iridescent dark hair from Finwe, and if Finwe's hair was even shinier and more iridescent. For complicated headcanon reasons I won't explain now, I like to picture Finwe's hair as having the colors of the aurora borealis on a dark sky– that includes the green/blue/purple colors Feanor's hair has, but also some brighter greens and pinks. The aurora is an absolutely stunning natural phenomena and I think it's a great fit for Finwe, Noldor high king and ancestor of so many legendary figures.

Second: Finwe's hair is just always perfect, no matter what. Cuivienen is not a safe place and no one has any time for like, complex hair care but Finwe's hair always looks model-perfect and immaculately styled. It never gets tangled. He wears it down to his ankles on dangerous hunting trips at the lake and still never trips on it or gets it caught in anything. He can come back from a week of dangerous solo hiking in the dark and its still luscious and perfectly moisturized. The other elves think this is either very impressive or very irritating. It was a not-insignificant part of why they decided that Finwe should be their king.

By the way, I totally think the Finwean Hair Magic™️ is genetic. All of Finwe's descendants have amazing hair.

*shoutout to @sesamenom for their amazing Feanor art that shows him with iridescent hair and to @runawaymun for Feanor and Maglor art with iridescent hair. Their work is great and has inspired a lot of my headcanons on this.

[sporadicthingcollection]

Kiss, Marry, Kill: Part 1/2 (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy overhears a private conversation and uses that knowledge against you. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Word Count: ~3k (of 5.3k) Warnings: Clown abuse, strong language, incorrect use of a straight razor.

Never had you on my mind Now you're there all the time Never knew what I missed until I kissed ya

---

By all accounts, Buggy should be having a great time. There's food, alcohol, gambling... hell, there's even a swimming pool. Not that he can partake, but he can live vicariously.

Instead, he's got a whole school of shark eyes trained on him as he sits on a stool next to Arlong's throne. This water park sucks.

He's not chained up or anything. The threat of a couple dozen sets of teeth ripping into him is reason enough to sit perfectly still, keep his mouth shut, and try to look as small as possible. No sudden movements, no change in expression, no—

"Kiss the clown, marry the waiter, kill Pink Hair."

Buggy sits bolt upright and looks around. Who the hell said that?

Arlong doesn't even deign to look at him. "Hear something?"

Clear. Crisp. With a little bit of an accent, maybe. He's heard it somewhere recently, but where?

Certainly not here. It was a woman's voice, and Arlong Park is a bit of a sausage party at the moment. Not that he can tell on sight with fishpeople.

"Answer me, clown," Arlong rumbles.

He forgets who he's talking to for a moment. "Eavesdropping's an art," he snaps. "You can't rush art."

Big mistake. Arlong responds with a low, wet growl. "It's been three days. My patience is running thin."

Quiet chatter. The clinking of silverware. Someone chewing with their mouth open. The little pirates are at a restaurant, it seems.

He relays this to Arlong. He's less than pleased. He enunciates every word to show his teeth. "Care to be more specific?"

A shudder crawls up the back of Buggy's neck. He takes a swig of his drink to cover it. He places his fingers over his remaining ear, straining.

"You're shitting me." That voice he recognizes. The redhead. The one who ruined his show. The one Arlong's so interested in. Nadi? Nani? Noni?

The other woman speaks. "Nami, you rejected him," she says. "Girl Code only applies if you were dating."

Nami. That's her, the conniving little bitch. "No, not the waiter. I mean you'd seriously kiss the clown? He nearly killed us."

He'd recognize Rubber Boy's voice anywhere, the little shitheel. "And his nose would get in the way."

The mystery woman speaks up again. "That's nothing new. I’ve smacked noses with plenty of guys."

Okay, that narrows it down. It’s not the redhead, it can't be Rubber Boy or the bounty hunter, so that leaves...

...you. Of course it's you. How could he forget you? You're the only one who laughed at Axe-Hand Moron. Granted, it was more like a snnrrrk and you immediately clapped your hand over your mouth, eyes wide with horror, but it was a laugh all the same.

And in that moment, he knew he liked you. Bad sense of humor. Cute smile. A little bashful. He appreciates that. Sure, you helped humiliate him not an hour after the fact, but all's fair in love and piracy.

"Look, I'm not saying it’s a good idea," you continue, "but sometimes you gotta live dangerously."

The bounty hunter speaks, dry and droll. "Storms are dangerous. Bar fights are dangerous. You're just insane."

"Oh, c'mon, you're not seriously gonna hold Fu..." You pause. "Kiss Marry Kill answers against me."

So that's what's going on. "They're just chattering like they always are," he says to Arlong.

Arlong does not like that answer. He snatches Buggy up by the neck, lifting him clear off the ground with only one hand.

"Wait! Wait wait wait! They're still talking! I might have something!" He kicks and struggles, but it's no use.

You speak. "You think everything pops off? ‘Cause a gal could really— hyurk.”

Laughter all around as you’re cut off by something. Sounds like you choked.

“Thank you, Usopp,” Nami says. “I am not having that conversation.”

Arlong saunters over to the pool, carrying Buggy like a ragdoll. He has precious few seconds now. C'mon, he wills them, say something useful!

A slap, a spit, then a couple of hard coughs. “Nice shot,” you wheeze. “Use the unspicy peanut next time. I think I burned my windpipe.”

The new guy — Usopp — scoffs. “Spicy? Please. This isn’t spicy. Baratie spicy is barely a zip. Now, you want spicy, you gotta hit up the Great Pepper Isles. Their chilis are so hot, I had an out-of-body experience.”

And boom, there it is. Right as he's about to be dropped into the water, his ticket to life.

“Baratie! They're at Baratie," he chokes out. "That floating restaurant. That really nice one I got thrown out of, the pricks."

It was Cabaji's fault. Turns out whipping a unicycle out at the bar is frowned upon. Who'd've thunk.

Arlong 'smiles.' All teeth and gums and no mirth at all. "Consult our charts," he says to the nearest fishman. "I'll prepare our compass."

He grabs Buggy by the hair and yanks. In the interest of not getting his neck broken, he separates his head from his body. Unfortunately, gravity takes over and his body plunges into the pool.

Weakness swamps him like a rogue wave. He can't say a word as he's stuffed into a cloth sack and everything goes dark.

In both ears, all he can hear are the sounds of laughter.

---

Someday, Buggy will learn not to run his fat mouth. That day is not today.

Usopp barges into the galley and lobs his head through the air, a low slow toss. He only has a moment to appreciate not being overhand pitched before landing on the floor. Not on his nose, fortunately, but it still hurts.

He points at the blonde guy — Sanji? Sanji. "I can't take it anymore. He's your problem now. I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

He tramps off as Buggy flips himself upright. “What’s his problem?” he asks no one in particular. “Sheesh, you make one ‘your mom’ joke and—“

A decidedly unmanly yelp escapes him as he's popped up into the air. The world spins and turns and he braces himself to hit the ground again, only to be caught in soft hands. He's spun around...

...and comes face to face with you, regarding him with curious, contemptuous eyes.

Oh, you're even prettier up close. The redhead's a looker, but she's still a kid. Soft. Pale. Set like a mousetrap, ready to spring and break some poor chump's neck at the slightest provocation.

But you? You're a grown-ass woman. Comfortable in your sun-kissed skin. A twinkle of experience in your eye and the ease of someone who's been sailing her ship for years.

He can't help but smile. "Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here, gorgeous," he says with a wink.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Sanji shoot him a glare. Your expression remains cool and uninterested. Shifting his head to your side, you hold him against your hip like a laundry basket. Even through your trousers, the soft swell of flesh warms his cheek.

“Weren't you just on buggysitting duty?” you ask Sanji.

Buggysitting? Really? "I'm right here, y'know," he grumbles.

He's ignored, as per usual. Sanji straightens up and huffs. “New guy always gets the shit jobs.”

“Let’s trade,” you say. “You take my watch and I’ll mind our chatty compass.”

Rude. “I’m still right here.”

Sanji shakes his head. “Go get your beauty sleep. Not that you need it, of course."

Wow, that was a bad line. Buggy makes his displeasure known with a retch.

“Sleep is for people who don’t have coffee.” You flap your hand toward the door. "Shoo.”

Sanji glances between you and Buggy, but heads for the door. "Any trouble at all, love, and I’m a shout away."

A little smile colors your voice. "If he starts gnawing my ankles, you’ll be the first to know."

Sanji returns the smile, sickeningly sweet. As he leaves, you sit at the table, placing Buggy across from you.

He wants nothing more than to plant his leg on a stool, lean in on his knee, and give you a toothy grin. But alas, he must settle for the grin. "Alone at last. Come here often?"

You don't even bother to look at him, too preoccupied with picking up a very shiny straight razor and a strip of leather. Muscle ripples under your skin as you slide the blade back and forth.

"So you're the barber," he says. You don't respond. "Can't imagine you're too busy on a ship with a bunch of babyfaces." Still nothing. "Don't suppose I could get a shave, then? Last time I used a straight razor, I ended up like this!"

"Barber surgeon," you say as you inspect the blade. Dissatisfied with some invisible blemish, you continue stropping.

He shrugs, only to remember he can’t. "Say, doc, I can't feel anything below my neck. Could you take a look?”

Irritation tints your voice. “Not a doctor,” you say. You’ve clearly had to explain this countless times before. “Doctors treat the inside. I fix up the outside.”

“Splitting hairs, Miss Sawbones.”

Shiff shiff shiff goes the razor. "If you don't stop talking, we’re gonna see if cutting off the nose really does spite the face. Might be an improvement for you.”

That’s just low. “Keep talking shit and this bark is gonna turn into bite.”

You finally look up. You level the razor at him, glaring down the blade. “You’re the only one talking, clown.”

Damn. Your eyes are pretty. Warm as the first sunbeam of a summer morning, but dark as the blotches he gets in his eyes when he looks into a spotlight by accident. Hot like one, too. Heat lurks below the dark surface, like warm charcoal about to catch fire.

Nerves ball up in his absent chest. He swallows them and summons his bravado. “Can ya blame me? I’ve got shit else to do. I’ve met parrots with more to say than you.”

"Count the cracks in the ceiling."

"One, two, three—“ He gives an exaggerated groan. “Didn't you say you were gonna make coffee? Can I get in on that?"

You scoff, but you do stand. "Last thing you need is caffeine.”

“The last thing I need is to be held hostage by a bunch of greenhorn nobodies,” he says, "and yet here I am."

“Sucks to suck,” you say. You pull a pot out of a cupboard and fill it with water. “How do you take it? Sugar? Cream?”

“Black. Like my heart.”

You let out that snnnrrrrk of a suppressed laugh again. What a nice sound. “Something we got in common.”

“Black heart or black coffee?”

“Yes.”

Such a simple, easy response. Not even particularly clever. But the delivery with no hesitation, no intonation, no second guessing the punchline. He laughs. “I knew I liked you!”

You glance over your shoulder at him. “You try to kill everyone you like? No wonder you have no friends.”

He hops to the edge of the table. Not an easy feat with only a stump. “C’mon, babe. All’s fair in love and piracy.”

Calling you babe was a blindfolded over-the-shoulder shot in the dark, but it lands. You add a smile to your glance. “I’ll give you that and nothing more.”

Somewhere, miles away, his heart flutters. He lets it. “Will you still give me coffee?”

“Only if you shut up ‘til this water boils.”

In this state, he’ll take any scrap of stimulus he can get. He bites his tongue and bites it hard, willing himself not to speak.

Silence creeps in. Silence leads to stewing, and stewing leads to bad thoughts. Bad feelings. Lonely feelings. Like how long it’s been since he’s had a friendly cuppa joe with someone. Or had someone honestly laugh at his stupid jokes.

Especially not someone as quick as you. Or as pretty. Or with such a nice ass. Or who maybe-sorta-kinda-might-possibly be interested in him. Potentially. Hypothetically.

There’s no damn way, he tells himself. You’re humoring him. You’re definitely shacking up with that cook — young, charming, handsome. Or the bounty hunter, maybe — tall, dark, broody.

You wouldn’t give him a second glance. Him, a pathetic, painted, big-nosed weirdo. Who is currently a severed head. A temporary state, but still not a good first impression. Even though his actual first impression was trying to kill you and your buddies. This second first impression is just as bad.

A sharp groan escapes him before he can stop it. He eyes you, expecting you to snap at him or worse.

But you don’t. You pause in your pouring to peer over your shoulder at him, gaze soft. “Y’alright?”

There goes his heart again. Ugh. “Peachy. That coffee done yet?”

You curl your lip. “What’s got your panties in a knot?”

“Just realized I’m gonna need a straw or some shit.”

Still sneering, you set a shallow mug in front of him. “I’ll see what I can find.”

See? You definitely don’t like him. Stupid fucking jackass, letting his hopes get up. This is what he gets.

…A nice, warm cup of coffee. If you really hated him, you wouldn’t have given him coffee, right? Or be looking for a straw?

You’re just humoring him. You just want to save your friend. Catch more flies with honey and all that. He’ll be more agreeable if you’re friendly.

Across the room, you open a drawer. “Hey, bendy straws. Perfect.”

You’re breaking out bendy straws for him? There’s gotta be something there! At least a little something!

No. No way. Coincidence.

You place an oddly long straw into the mug. He realizes it’s three normal ones jammed end-to-end, creating a pipe ending just about level with his mouth.

You just pulled some engineering shit so he can drink coffee with you. There’s definitely something.

An ice cube plops into the mug and you slide back into the booth with your own cup. “Might dilute it a bit, but can’t have you burning your mouth.”

His distant heart flips again. He has to say something. Before he can convince himself otherwise. He says the first thing that comes to mind.

“So,” he says, “‘kiss the clown,’ eh?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That’s the first thing he thought of? Seriously? He braces himself for boiling coffee thrown in his face.

You freeze mid-sip, brows raised. “Excuse me?”

Okay, you don’t look mad. “Don’t deny it, babe. I heard everything. Kiss Marry Kill? Nice job keeping it kid-friendly, wink wink."

You stare at him with those dark eyes. "No idea what you're on about."

"I know you know. And I know you know I know." He waggles his eyebrows, hoping for a laugh, but he gets nothing.

You watch the steam swirling up from your mug. "What do you want me to say, exactly? That I chose you to kiss?"

"I just wanna know what possesses a woman to make her want to shack up with the guy who tried to kill her and her friends." He lips the straw into his mouth and takes a test sip. Still quite hot.

"Circumstance. Process of elimination. Being put on the spot." You pick up the razor. Your fiddling with it belies your agitation.

"Don't lie to me, babe," he croons. "I can see right through you."

You stare at him. "And what is it that you see?"

What does he see? "A woman on a knife's edge of self-satisfaction and self-destruction. Once bitten, twice shy, but when he comes around the third time, you just can't help yourself."

Your fiddling becomes more insistent. You break eye contact to look at the razor. He's hitting on something. Time to push some buttons.

"You bet on the wrong horse every time. You think it'll be different this time. But it never is." He smiles bitterly. "Something else we got in common. Birds of one ugly feather."

Your gaze softens as you return your gaze to him. "So you found the problem, Doctor Headshrink. What’s the prescription?"

Shoot your shot, Buggy. "Kiss the clown and maybe we'll find out."

You're still for a few moments. Then slowly, carefully, you slide your hand across the table. You pull him closer as you lean lower in your seat to eye level with him.

He can't help the way his breath quickens. It's been so, so long since he had any kind of intimacy. Your reedy fingers trace his jaw down to his chin. Your thumb comes up to pull at his bottom lip, and he lets out a satin-soft whimper as he opens his mouth to you.

You strike like a snake, yanking his tongue out with one hand and readying your razor with the other. His choke turns into a scream as you bring it down, severing his tongue clean at the root.

It's one thing to disconnect body parts. Pop a leg off, drop an ear — he’s used to it. But it's a different story when said part is supposed to be inside of him. His tongue waggles like a fish as he tries to return it to his mouth, but you keep a firm grip.

"You can have this back in the morning," you say.

He wants to cuss you out, but what comes out is ew bihck, whadda fuhck iss won wif ew, gif ih bahck.

You laugh. And lord, what a laugh you've got. Loud, like a party gone late into the hours of the night. Clattery, like a dozen plates shattering on the floor. Full of mirth, like a drunk on payday.

And, for the briefest of moments, his rage is forgotten. He wants to make you laugh like that.

But it returns with a vengeance, replaced with a desire to see you squirm.

---

⬅⬅⬅ | To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar | ➡➡➡

[maeby-cursed]

KISS ME, TRY TO FIX IT…

𓂃 COULD YOU JUST TRY TO LISTEN ?

a/n: starting a new series of songfics ! this one is very obviously inspired by sad, beautiful, tragic, so you can see where this might be going. enjoy the results of my brainrot ♡ (also, i’ve never written for gojo before, please have mercy)

✧ synopsis: you’ve been waiting for satoru gojo for ten years, but there’s no trace of the man you fell in love with when you were sixteen years old. it’s time to let go, but he might not want to.

✧ pairings: satoru gojo x fem!reader

✧ wc: 2k

✧ rating: angst. so much of it, angst to drown in. might get suggestive at some points.

✧ cw: mentions of drinking, of the great jjk tragedy of 2006 and its aftermath, implied cheating, gojo may be ooc, toxic relationship ??

An ice-cold wind blows through the window as you wait.

It’s not even December yet but it’s already snowing.

Soft snowflakes the size of stars, far away in their firmament, enter your living room. When they land on the sofa, they dissolve, leaving in their wake thousands of specks of water that look disturbingly like tears.

It doesn't matter. You don't think he's going to notice anyway.

It's been ten long years of waiting. Ten long years of fighting, of fixing what's broken and denying that it's ever been broken.

It's over. Let winter freeze everything in its path.

When Satoru walks in through the door, you hesitate for a moment. A moment of madness when you see his hair, as white as the snowfall that has invaded your home. Just a moment when you see him in his burgundy turtleneck sweater, his tight-fitting coat. One single moment when you recognize the cold in his pink cheeks.

But it's all over when you meet his crystalline eyes. The fault is theirs.

"Is the window broken again?" he asks, dropping his keys on the entryway’s table.

The window has been broken since September.

You nod and he grunts, running a hand over his face.

"I'll call someone tomorrow, although you could have said something," he says. This is your fault. Of course.

You keep your eyes fixed on the snow. From the living room you can see the sidewalk across the street, covered in a blanket of white that sparkles under the street lamps. It's so painfully beautiful it makes you nostalgic.

You and Satoru moved into this house three years ago, when he got his teaching position, and you can't quite get over the fact that it's time to say goodbye.

You've spent three years of solstices here. You've seen the sidewalks covered with dead leaves, with thousands of little flowers that broke the pavement in their wake. But it’s never snowed. 

It’s not fair, not one bit.

Satoru says no more. He goes to your room and undresses; he replaces his street clothes with a black outfit that seems very appropriate for the occasion. Since you’ve known him, he always takes off his glasses when he crosses the hall of your building, but for once, you wish he'd put them back on. 

When he returns, his hair is dripping over his forehead. You hadn't even noticed that he was taking a shower. 

But he hasn't noticed that your bedside table is empty, either; that your slippers are missing, that there's a seeping coldness in the hearth of your house, and it's not coming from the window.

"What's for dinner?" he asks, plopping down on the couch with his cell phone in his hand.

You get up.

9:26 p.m., November 8. This is where it ends.

"I don't know. I'm going out to dinner," you say.

He doesn’t even bother to look up.

"Hmm, where are you going? Are you bringing something back or should I order myself a pizza?"

It's painful to watch as nothing seems to touch him. He’s infinite — always infinite.

"I'm going to a work friend's house."

"The one with the lovely curly hair and those pretty hazel eyes?"

Christ.

"No. I'm moving in with Rhea. Dark-eyed, blonde, leggy."

"Hmm, how nice."

A moment passes where he just keeps staring at the screen, and you despair.

"Satoru."

"What's up, baby?"

"I'm moving."

At last – at last – he looks up. In his eyes you see nothing; two blue marbles that have sworn you two to an unjust fate.

"You're moving out? Why?"

Where to begin? Because you have been loving a man destined to save everything and everyone for a decade, because you have been trying to fill a void that is not your size for eight years, because the windows are broken and the bed is cold and Satoru arrives several nights smelling of anisette and the perfume of another, because you don't want to live looking at the Strongest, the possessor of the Six Eyes. Because you thought that in some hidden corner Satoru Gojo was still there, and he isn’t.

"Because it's killing me to live like this.” You settle for that as your explanation and try to keep your stare unwavering.

"Like this how?" he questions, suddenly irritated. "In a luxurious house?" He gestures around him with the cell phone in his hand. "Comfortably, with your dream job? Knowing you'll never have to worry about money?"

"No, Satoru. Like this, without you loving me."

That chills him to the bone.

"Of course I love you."

"Do you? Do you want me for anything other than to warm your bed and your cock? Do you want me here, as your partner? Do you need me for anything at all?"

You don’t gesticulate, you barely move from your spot in the middle of the room. Everything in this fucking place is white and uncannily clean; the sofas, the coffee table, the walls, even the snow; but you and Satoru. He’s in all black, you’re in all red. It’s almost dreamlike, and you struggle to stay grounded. 

The only thing you could remove from this house that would grab his attention would be you.

"Yesterday you weren't complaining about any of this, what the fuck is the matter with you today?"

And you can't stand it anymore. The winter current lifts your hair, soaks the back of your neck and disguises your tears.

"THE MATTER IS THAT I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR TEN YEARS. WAITING FOR YOU. WAITING FOR THE MAN I MET AT SIXTEEN TO COME BACK, SLEEPING WITH A MAN OF ABSENT GAZE WHO STAGGERS INTO MY BED WHEN HE'S TIRED OF BEING IN EVERYONE ELSE'S. I DON'T WANT TO BE YOUR DOG, SATORU. I DON'T WANT YOU TO COME HOME AND FEEL OBLIGATED TO GIVE ME A WALK, A PETTING."

The words come spilling out of you without remedy, every wound bursting open through the stitches. He just looks at you.

"You think I don't love you?"

It hurts to hear him say it, it fucking hurts. You were prepared for the yelling and the coldness, even for a quick vulnerable stare. But never for his trembling voice and soft frown.

You inhale deeply.

"I don't think your love is of any use to me any longer."

Satoru stands up at that.

He's tall, tall and beautiful like Michelangelo's David. All your life, you've been feeling like you had no right to touch him. His infinity assured you that was the case. 

He takes a step in your direction and whispers:

"Then what should I do now?"

Your eyes, fixed on the ground, rise to meet his. There's something in the void and you're not sure if it's just your reflection.

"What?" you mutter. 

"How do I fix it? What do you need that I can't give you? Do you want me to quit work, for us to leave, for me to come home and kiss your temple, to cook for you, to listen to you, to cherish you in bed?” A heartbeat. “I will."

There’s something about the desperation in his tone, you aren’t sure of what to say next.

Satoru knows how to lie, but you don't know how to tell the difference.

"I don't want anything, Satoru. I'm tired," you whisper back, eyes full of water. "I want it to end. I want you to let it end."

He shakes his head, frowning, and through the mist of your tears you recognize that he is crying too.

"There has to be something. Anything. Something I can do, I can do it all."

It's partly true. He's Satoru Gojo; all-powerful, all-knowing. Eternal and young and beautiful and tragic as a poem.

You are just another person. You cried when Suguru left, when Haibara died, when Kento gave up the Jujutsu world and when Ieri locked herself in her office. You clung to Satoru, who resembled an empty seashell more than a person. 

You remember those nights back in 2007. You remember blindfolding him so he wouldn't activate infinity by accident, by reflex, out of overstimulation. You remember cutting his hair when he couldn’t and looking for him in his old antics. You remember taking care of Megumi – always reluctant – and Tsumiki – who you felt was too mature for her age. You remember the burden of being eighteen and having lost a world.

And, above all else, you remember Satoru under the rain. Under the pressure of the world you had lost, the one that he was trying to put back together. There was a month where he seemed catatonic; no smiles, drinking anisette as if it were his one source of life. A thirty-day period followed by the rebirth of a person who looked like the one that stood before, but who seemed cold and alien to you.

"Don't you love me, my darling?" he seeks for you, reaching out a hand to brush against your cheek.

Of course you love him. You love him even like this, like you have loved each and every one of his versions.

"I adore you, Satoru. But I can't stay; you can't fix it."

"Of course I can," he reaches out to you, holding your face between his fingers, "Of course I can."

His lips connect with yours — one last attempt, you don't know by whom.

Snow fills the room and it's cold, but you drink from his mouth, from his everlasting warmth; everything in him lasts forever.

Between kisses, you show him everything you have been for years. Ten years of kisses, of hands looking for hands and flesh searching for flesh.

He moves backwards, keeping you between his hands and guiding you towards the hallway and from the hallway to your shared bed.

This is where it ends.

"Satoru..." you whisper.

"I'm here. I'm here, beautiful, my favorite girl. Talk to me."

A sob escapes you as he utters those words. My favorite girl. That’s what he used to call you. Talk to me, he used to plead, that year at sixteen, when everything was about to start.

Isn't it beautiful that it ends the exact same way?

"Satoru, I'm leaving," you press a farewell kiss to his jaw.

"No, you're not leaving," he murmurs, smiling against your mouth, searching for your lips.

You back away and look at him one more time. And you smile, because there's nothing left.

"I'm already gone. Just let go of me, please."

"But..." he starts, his smile hesitant, "But I'm going to fix it."

You take one of his hands between yours and kiss it as it presses against your cheek, before lowering it to your lap.

"Satoru..." You pronounce each syllable of his name carefully and he stifles a cry. "I'm not going to go any further. I've already made the move and Rhea's expecting me at her house in an hour. I love you, I’ll love you until I run out of kisses, but it does me no good to love you. It is of no use to me, this love. I wanted to tell you. I wanted you one last time. Wasn’t it my turn to be the selfish one for once?"

He watches you, and his mouth shuts close. You've never seen Satoru lose. 

No, that's not true. There was a time, one time, where you saw him lose everything.

His eyes fill up with you one second and empty the next.

This is his second time.

He lifts his chin with an arrogance that no longer means anything and lets go of your hands.

"Go then, if you want. I'm not going to do anything to stop you,” he drags the words with feign disinterest. “I can't do anything."

That's the last gift he can give you. An honesty unbecoming of him, a truth that will never belong to Satoru Gojo ever again. 

From god to human in three kisses and a goodbye.

"Thank you," you say to him. Then you get up, heading for the living room, where your coat and your escape door await you.

He stays in the bedroom – with himself as he always is – after you leave. 

And he hides you where he always hides the things he breaks, in the back of his eyes, where no one can reach to see anything.

© 2023, MAEBY-CURSED — do not copy/repost/edit.

(reblogs are appreciated !!)

[milunalupin]

hi hi hi! so many congrats on a 100 followers, what a deserved accomplishment, love!!

you can obviously ignore this if you're uncomfortable writing this/or this doesn't hit your creative spot. because this is so cliched uggh.

okay so i was thinking maybe a little grumpy!reader x sunshine!sirius, friends to lovers trope? (it makes so weak in the knees 🫠.) feel free to take the plot literally anywhere your heart desires, because you'll serve either ways!!

love you, make sure to drink water and eat good. hope you have a great day/night ahead.

--🍁autumn

hi hi my love ! thank you for you patience <3 and adding more sirius to my blog

— sunshine

sunshine!sirius x grumpy!reader ★ 1.2k words

"Sirius Black if you don't stop tapping your finger against the table, I will not hesitate to hex you."

You sent a glare towards the raven haired boy from across the table. History of Magic was your worst subject and you had a big exam coming up. "Why aren't you with the other boys anyways?"

It's not like you two weren't friends, but Sirius wasn't usually the one to seek you out. It was usually Peter since he was the one who introduced you to his friends, then Remus who at times also enjoyed his peace and quiet. You spent quite a bit of time with the girls too, especially since you all roomed together. James and Sirius had always been friendly with you, but it wasn't like you would stay up in the common room sharing secrets, although Sirius had recently been around you more than than normal.

"Well aren't you just a ray of light." Sirius sent you a lopsided grin, setting his elbows on the table and resting his head on his hands. "They're out somewhere with Prongs looking for Evans, and I wanted to see my favorite girl."

Your quill froze over the parchment. Sirius was such a flirt, you couldn't take anything he said to you to heart, because he didn't mean it, right? You lowered your head and tried to focus on your notes, pretending like you didn't hear him.

"Anyways," he chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "You know about his problem with Evans, and you're a girl, could you give me some advice to relay back to him?"

"Thanks for noticing. What kind of advice?"

"Well, what sort of things do girls like to receive?"

"I don't know Sirius, I don't regularly receive gifts from boys." You rolled your eyes and scoffed, glancing up at him to see his eyes on you, waiting for an answer. "but I supposed I would quite like it if someone brought me my favorite drink, or book. You know, it shows that they've paid attention to the little things."

"So how would you- girls-" he let out a shaky laugh, his cheeks tinged pink. "How would girls like to be asked on a date?"

How would you know? You didn't want to speak negatively of yourself but there had to be some reason as to why boys never came up to you. You would never guess that it was because Sirius had already warned the whole male population at Hogwarts to back off his very pretty friend.

Groaning quietly, you rubbed your hands over your tired face. "Sirius, I don't know, can you please let me review my notes in peace?"

"That doesn't count, you're not being fair." Peter whined, pulling on his hair as he looked down at the chessboard. You shrugged and stuck your tongue out at the boy, getting up and taking a seat on the carpet by the fire next to Lily.

It was the night before your exam and as much as you wanted to hole up in your room and cram, your friends had convinced you to spend time with them. Lily was painting Marlene's fingernails while Remus took your place playing against Peter in chess.

"Who wants hot chocolate!" James called out, Sirius and him walking towards you all with trays of steaming mugs. The two passed out the sweet beverages,

"Thanks Sirius." you thanked him softly, his gaze softening as you wrapped your hands around the warm drink and blew gently on the top. Your eyes brightened as you took a sip and tasted a hint of peppermint.

The rest of the evening was spent playing games, dancing to Remus' new records and sharing Peter's surplus of sweets from Honeydukes. You felt your shoulders relax as you looked around at your friends having a good time, catching Sirius already looking you. His eyes darted away as soon as you saw him, the corners crinkling as he laughed as some joke James had made. You felt a nudge in your side, turning to see Lily cocking her head towards the dorms asking if you were ready to go. Nodding, the three of you girls stood up and waved goodnight to the Marauders and shuffled up to your room.

You flopped into bed with a blissful sigh. "Thanks for tonight guys, I needed this."

Marlene waved her hand in dismissal. "You've studied hard, you needed a bit of a break."

"The peppermint hot chocolate was just the thing I needed, it's my favorite."

"Peppermint hot chocolate?" Lily's nose scrunched with disgust, but then her eyes widened with realization, her and Marlene sharing a knowing grin. "Right, the peppermint hot chocolate."

You turned your head to squint at them. "Why do you two have that look on your faces?"

"We don't know what you're talking about, goodnight!"

You're going to pass the exam, you're to going to p—

"Watch it, you half-breed, or I'll turn you into the little mutt you are." Lucius Malfoy spat at you as you ran into him, pulling out his wand.

"Oh sod off, why don't you put your daddy's money where your mouth is?" you scoffed, reaching for your own wand. He sneered at your comeback, taking a step closer to you.

"Hey sunshine, I was looking everywhere for you! Let me walk you to class." Sirius appeared next to you, taking your school bag and slinging it over his shoulder, shooting a grin to Lucius, canines on full display. "Thanks for watching her for me Malfoy but next time, don't."

Sirius steered you away from the fuming Slytherin, arm around your shoulder. He ducked his head down to speak to you quietly. "You alright?"

"Fine, boys are just jerks." you grumbled, your mind now focusing on your exam as you two turned into the hall where your classroom was located.

"Not all of us though, right?"

The corner of his mouth lifted, your smiled mirroring his own. "Yeah, Pete's alright."

"You're killing me doll." He threw his head back dramatically, his smile slipping as yours did, now standing in front of the History of Magic classroom. "Hey, how about we made a deal?"

"Huh?" you pulled yourself out of a daze, looking up at him. "What's the deal?"

Sirius coughed to the side and straightened his posture. "You get an Outstanding on your exam, and I'll take you out."

A flush crept up your face, not believing your ears. As annoying as he was, of course you had thought about Sirius romantically before, who hadn't? You really hoped your studying paid off, your smile and voice coming out shy. "What if I don't get an Outstanding?"

Sirius lit up like the Great Hall during the holidays, smiling ear to ear. "Then I'm still taking you out to cheer you up. I also have just been dying to take you on a date, sunshine."

An hour later you left the classroom with a giant smile on your face and a big 'O' on your parchment. Sirius immediately took your hand in his and dragged you to Hogsmeade for your first date, the twinkling sound of your laughter letting him know it wouldn't be your last.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Three times Luffy fell for you (Monkey D. Luffy x Fem! Reader)

A/N: So fucking cute! Send more requests and help :v - Val

Words: 1, 763

Warnings: Spoilers of anime/manga One Piece! Mentions of death, and I think that's all.

Three times Luffy fell for you. 

1 

Luffy wakes up in the middle of the night, but this time, it’s not because of a nightmare or a noise, he just feels weird. 

His first thought is to go to the kitchen to find some food. Of course, he couldn’t get anything, thanks to Sanji’s tramps. He whines, but a noise interrupts his thoughts. He realizes it’s someone crying. 

He gets to the Sunny’s deck, and he finds you sitting on the stairs. “Y/N? Are you okay? Why are you crying? Are you hungry too?” He quickly sits beside you. 

You look at him startled and feel overwhelmed by the rain of questions. It only makes you cry more. He panics and decides to hug you instead of trying to keep talking. 

As you feel his body around you, you melt against him hiding your face on his chest. He stretches his arms around you many times to hold you tighter and rest his head over yours. 

The two of you stay like that until you stop crying, you can control your breathing and you stop hiding. He loosens his grip but still holds you. 

“I had a nightmare,” you say with a broken voice. “I lost all of you and I couldn't do anything to stop it.” 

Luffy hums. “I had that kind of nightmares too,” he sighs, “I can’t blame you, they’re really scary and it feels real.” 

“Yeah,” you nod. 

“But you know who hates them the most?” You lean back to look at him. “Zoro,” he giggles. “When I have those nightmares, I have to make sure everybody’s okay, but the first person I see it’s him, so I wake him up every time. And it’s hard to wake him up and, he’s never happy,” Luffy makes a funny scary face that makes you giggle. 

“And sometimes the others wake up too, so they all start to scream at me, but it’s okay. At least I know they’re fine,” he smiles. 

“That’s a good solution,” you say sarcastically, but Luffy doesn’t get it. 

“Right?” His chest starts to feel funny when he sees your smile again. “See? You’re not the only one with that nightmare. Everybody’s okay. And I’m here with you, and I heard the others snore, so they’re okay too!” You giggle again. 

“You’re right,” you sigh. “Thanks, Luffy.” 

Now Luffy feels funny in his stomach, so he remembers. 

“Oh, right! You know, this could be a great moment to have a sweet!” He pouts. “But, bad news, Sanji locked the fridge again,” he whines. 

You laugh at his childish behavior, but you move a little to lose more of his grip and turn to the side to pick up a small blue box. 

“Here,” you offer the box. “You can have the honor to eat my last cookie.” 

Luffy’s eyes sparkle. “What? The last one? Really?” You laugh and nod. “Thank you!” He squeals grabbing it, but then, he stops to look at the cookie and then at you. He frowns when he still sees your teary eyes, pink cheeks, and tired smile. “I want to share it with you,” he says breaking the cookie in half. 

“What!?” You exclaim. “You never share your food with anyone. You just take it all!” 

He laughs at loud. “But I want to share with you! C’mon, captain’s orders” he says with a playful authority. 

You giggle. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah!” He smiles. 

“Thank you, Captain.” 

“You’re welcome!” He turns his sight to his half of the cookie and eats it in one bite. 

You take a moment to see the details on Luffy’s face, his skin, his rebel and raven hair, some freckles, his nose, fine lips, and his eyes, always full of excitement. Without thinking much, you lean forward to kiss his cheek. 

He raises his brows and looks at you with a confused face. 

“Why did you do that?” He asks curiously. 

You shrug. “I wanted to,” then you panic. “I—is that okay?” 

He smiles. “Only if I can kiss you whenever I want,” he says without any sign of flirtation. 

You blush. “W-what?” 

“It’s only fair, right?” He says with a chuckle, so casual and calm while you’re a mess. “Deal?” 

“D-Deal!” 

He nods and looks at his ship, but there’s still something he can’t figure out. The funny feeling in his stomach increased and now it’s on his chest too. Maybe he has to ask Chopper about it… or eat more. 

2 

Every year, on the same day of Ace’s death, Luffy gets so quiet that it feels wrong. 

Sometimes, Luffy’s complicated in other situations, but this is another level. Nobody knows what to do. They’ve tried to ask him, but he doesn’t talk all day and he rejects any help from his crew. 

He’s sitting in his favorite spot, he’s been looking at the horizon for many hours, just until he hears someone’s steps and groans. 

“Shit,” you say grabbing another part of the Sunny’s head as you keep trying to climb it. There’s a reason why this is Luffy’s spot. It’s hard for someone without a devil fruit. 

Luffy leans to look at your struggle. He frowns, stretches one arm to grab you by your waist, and pulls you to his side. 

“Uff… thanks, Luffy!” You smile gratefully.  

“Why do you want to climb?” He asks. His voice’s raspy. 

“Oh!” You act like you’re not worried about his state. “I-I know you uh, you don’t like anyone else to sit here but...” 

“No,” he interrupts you. “It’s okay. You can.” 

You smile blushing. 

“Thanks, uh...” you move on your place “I just—I Just don’t want you to be alone for so long,” you whisper. “I mean, I can go if that’s what you want, I know it’s a hard day for you but...” You look at him. “You don’t have to face it alone.” 

He doesn’t answer, he just moves and lays down with his head resting on your lap. Then, he reaches for your hand, and when he finds it, he puts it on his hair. You catch what he wants and start brushing the tufts with a soft giggle. 

“Thanks,” he whispers. 

3 

It’s a tradition for the straw hats to throw a huge party after a tough fight and this isn’t the exception. 

Zoro and Nami are betting about who can drink more sake while Usopp’s singing with Brook and Franky since they lost a bet, Robin’s watching them dancing around. Chopper and Luffy are eating all Sanji’s making.  

At first, you celebrated with the same enthusiasm as your friends, but now, you feel like your body’s finally giving up. You return to the Sunny, directly to your room. 

As much as you want to take a shower to wash off the party’s sweat, your body aches so much that you think it wouldn’t work on your own and you don’t want to call Robin or Nami for help. 

“Just the pj’s then,” you say out loud. You leave the weapons on the floor and grab your shirt to pull it up, but the pain of your wounds stops you. “Fuck!” You groan. 

“Are you okay?” says Luffy arriving at your room.  

You turn to him scared. “Shit, Luffy!” You yell at him, and he smiles. 

“Sorry,” He walks up to you. “Why did you leave the party?” 

You chuckle. “Shouldn't you be... you know, turning into a big ball full of food and having fun?” 

“It's no fun if you're not there,” he says like is nothing, but you’re blushing, and your heart pounds. “So, why you don’t go back?” 

You shake your head. “I’m exhausted, Luffy. I can’t even put on my pj’s,” you laugh. 

“Oh! Do you want me to help you?”  

His eyes tell you that his offer is pure and innocent. You’re 100% sure that your captain has no other intentions. But you can't help feeling uneasy and nervous. 

“Y-you don’t have to.” 

“I want to.” He smiles and you nod. 

He grabs the end of your shirt and gently pulls it over your head. You hiss a little and then throw the shirt away. When you look up, Luffy’s eyes are on the bandage around your waist. 

“Luffy?” You almost whisper. 

“You fought great,” he grins and he feathery touches the bandage. “You’re an awesome fighter,” he nods. 

“Thanks.” 

“Sometimes… I forget that you and I are different in battle.” 

You frown. “What do you mean?” 

He returns to your eyes. “You can't last as long fighting as me, you get exhausted sooner and you heal last,” then he smiles. “But no matter how strong your opponent is… you always find a way to win,” he giggles. “You always surprise me with your smart brain.” 

“Really?” You smile. 

“Definitely.” 

You realize the proximity of your bodies, Luffy's breath mingles with yours and your noses almost touch. You can’t help but lean a little up and kiss his lips sweetly. It lasts a few seconds, and you move away, waiting for his reaction. 

He frowns. “Wait! I’m feeling funny again!” 

“What?” 

“It’s like—I dunno. When I’m with you… in my belly—and chest—and then you kissed me, and it got worse!” He steps back. “It’s all your fault!” He points at you. 

You think for a while about all his words and his reaction, then, you figure it out. You blush with a smile. “I feel the same, Luffy.” 

“You do? Are we sick? Are we gonna die?” 

You giggle stepping closer to him. “No. It means that you like me and… I like you.” 

“I don’t get it. I like everyone in the crew but with you it’s different,” he pouts. 

You nod and take his face in your hands. “It’s okay, Luffy,” you whisper leaning to kiss him again. This time the kiss is longer, and he reciprocates following the movements of your lips against his.  

“I’ll explain it to you, I promise...” 

“’Kay, but does it mean that we can keep kissing? It feels nice.” 

You giggle. “Yeah, we can do that, but...” you flush looking down, realizing you’re just in a bra and jeans. “Can you help me with my clothes? I’m still tired.” 

“Oh, right!” 

He undresses you, leaving you in your underwear, and then helps you with your pajamas, and cuddles up with you in your bed and so it starts a make-out session between whispers, laughter, and love. At some point, you fall asleep, resting on his chest as he hugs you without hurting you. 

[inuiiwonderland]

Hewwo :3 sooo I was wondering if you wouldn't mind writing hcs for the characters' reaction to reader(MC) being a 10-12 year old girl?? Like a slightly bratty, but endearing and energetic type. Think preppy Sephora girl💀 that would be super great, don't push urself tho💚

Twst characters with a 12 y/o Mc!

A/n: Hellooo! So sorry for the wait but here it is! You didn’t tell me which characters so I hope you don’t mind about the ones that I picked!🤍

Characters: Vil, Ace, And riddle!

Platonic! Twst x fem!reader

-

Vil Schoenheit

“Aren’t you too young to be wearing that?” “And aren’t you too old to be wearing that ton of makeup?”

Yeah vil didn’t like the slight attitude you had when you two first met.

But after getting to know you better during the VDC and after his overblot, you two became good buddies.

He treats you like a little sibling so just know that he will check up on you every now and then. (Especially if you’re out with the first year gang, he doesn’t want you to get in trouble or worse, hurt)

Will scold you from time to time when you act slightly bratty to him or anyone else. He can’t have you acting like that to anyone and will make sure you are respectful.(If it’s neige though…he might encourage you from the sidelines…)

Definitely will take you out to buy some clothes. Seriously headmage, how can you have a young child running around with used up/torn clothes? The media will for sure have a field day with this if they were to find out.

Shows you how to do make up. BUT, he still thinks you’re too young to be wearing it so he will only do it when he wants to experiment or when you want to take pictures together. (Which will only be light makeup)

Has rook look after you when he’s too busy to do it himself. You are a magic less girl from an unknown world so of course he’s going to be scared for your safety.

Makes sure you are stocked up with sanitary products. Big brother vil will make sure you are doing alright and have everything you need.

Girls night after a long day or exam week!

Tries not to post you too much on his magicam. He either posts you on close friends OR has a secret magicam account that only his close friends + you know about. He can’t have you being bothered by paparazzi or crazy obsessive fans.

Ace trappola

“Whose annoying little sister is this?” “Whose dumb son is this?”

Yeah…you and ace did not get along at first.

The two of you cannot go a second without arguing with one another about random stuff.

But after some time. The two of you get close and tada! You now have an annoying protective older brother ready to fight anyone who dares to insult/hurt you!

You two are a NIGHTMARE when you guys are together.

You guys will tease and make fun of people when the two of you are together.

PRANKS. DEAR LORD THE FREAKING PRANKS.

Poor deuce is a victim because of all the pranks you and ace pulled on him.

You guys both got collared by riddle this one time because the two of you decided it was going to be a good idea to switch riddles shampoo with pink hair dye.

He’s the type to literally burp or fart on you when you’re trying to do homework or just scrolling through twisttok.

Like it’s not even funny but HE thinks it’s the most hilarious thing in all of twisted wonderland.

And you think it’s the most annoying and disgusting thing ever.

Shares his snacks with you but starts complaining the moment the others asks for some.

He always makes sure you are safe when you guys are facing another overblot.

Invites you to his games and always brags about how awesome and cool he is. (Typical older brother behavior)

Will steal your snacks when you are not looking. Hey! He shares his food with you so it’s only fair you do the same.

Movies Nights with the first year gang is a must! Will literally laugh and record you as you scream and jump at every jump scare the movie has. (You always smack or throw a pillow at him. Demanding for him to delete it)

You force him to wear face masks and have a girls night with you. Will complain and whine but stills does it anyway to make you happy.

Riddle Roseheart

“Excuse me but that was very rude of you” “Eh? Why is a child trying to scold me”

Instant collar

Riddle will not tolerate such behavior and disrespect. Especially from a child!

Will take some time for him to warm up to you.

The constant rule breaking and the talk back was enough to turn him red and collar you every chance he gets.

But once he starts warming up to you, he stops and starts to treat you like a little sister.

You also stop with the rule breaking and the talk back. (Welll you stopped talking back and you TRY not to break as many rules)

Will help you study for any upcoming test or exams.

He can’t have you failing and having poor grades. So you better thank him for the good grades you currently have.

Invites you to unbirthday parties.

You for some reason love painting the roses red. So when you’re over at heartsalbyul, you help with painting the roses.

You wanted to make riddle happy so you spent a whole month learning the 810 rules of the Queen of hearts to make him happy.

And boy was he happy

Literally almost shed tears of happiness

Ace should learn a thing or two from you

Buys you cute tea cup sets! And also tried baking a tart for you with the help of Trey. (It turned out alright!)

Also protective of you

Gets mad when Crowley has you running around doing errands for him which he can clearly do HIMSELF.

You give him a heart attack every time you are out with the first year gang. He has both ace and deuce promise him nothing bad will happen to you when you are out with them. Or else it will be an instant collar.

Let’s you play and help him take care of the hedgehogs

-

A/n: This was so fun to write! Sorry if some are ooc🥲

[w2sarcher]

hiii i know you havent posted in a while but if you are still taking requests would you do blurb or smau of harry and reader buying a new house maybe in guernsey or london and its just cute domestic vibes ? love your work :)

ahhh love this idea!!! i'm still taking requests just been a bit slow getting round to them all because i'm back at uni and have a load of work i need to do :( but hope you enjoy this little blurb!!! xx

home | harry lewis

summary: y/n and harry move in to their forever home

word count: 1.8k

warnings: mostly just a cutesy/fluff blurb but references to sex at the end

The day had finally come for Y/N and Harry. The day they were about to move into their new house. Sure, they had shared a quaint but homely London flat for the past five years, but now they were onto bigger things. Their first proper forever home. 

To say Harry was bricking it was an understatement. Of course, the pair had done their fair share of moving around, life tucked away in cardboard boxes, but this was the real deal—probably the last time they’d ever have to do this, and God, there was so much to do, and Harry felt completely hopeless. He’d spent the last half an hour trying to get the garage door to open, slapping the remote aimlessly with his hand to try and get it to work, and pulling his hair in defeat when it didn’t. It turns out he had been using the wrong remote the whole time, and instead of opening the garage door, he had been toying about with your house's light system, the lights inside the house flickering on and off as he sighed in frustration outside unknowingly. He was stressed, and Y/N was inside, thinking they had faulty electrics.. It was a great start. 

Another five minutes passed, and Harry had given up, deciding his car looked much better parked on the driveway anyway, and took it upon himself to unload some more boxes from the boot of his car. He walked up to the house, rummaging in his pockets for the house keys, cursing under his breath when he saw sight of that stupid remote that had caused him torture for the last few minutes—he'd have chucked it in the bin at this rate, but knew Y/N would give him a telling-off for being so silly. Shoving the key in the door, he opened the blue door that had drawn the pair in the first time they came to view the house—his favourite colour being blue and Y/N loving the pop of colour it gave—a warm welcome to future guests that the two would definitely have. He placed the two boxes he had managed to carry from the car and kicked off his Air Forces, abiding by Y/N’s  ‘No Shoes’ rule that she had gone on and on about, not wanting to dirty the brand new floors. 

He could hear the faint sound of some pop song he didn’t know the name of as he made his way down the hallway, a fresh smell of paint wafting into his nose. He leaned on the doorframe, not before tapping his finger to check if the paint had dried and luckily it had as he couldn’t think of anything worse than getting paint all over his new hoodie. He could see the woman he loved trailing around the kitchen, cupboards open, and boxes all over the marble kitchen counter. She had a determined look on her face as she placed different glassware and plates into cupboards—shiny new ones but also some that Harry had recognised from their old flat. She couldn’t see him as he watched her intently, struggling to lift a heavy box that was filled to the brim with more kitchenware. He knew he’d ought to help her because she was struggling, but the sight was something to enjoy, and a smug look was present on his face as he watched his love scuffle around the kitchen in her pink crocs and his old jumper that was a few sizes too big for her. 

‘’You need a hand, lovely?’’ he teased as she whipped her head around at the sound of his voice, plates nearly falling out of her hands.

‘’Fucking hell, Harry’’ She gasped, steadying the plates in her hands, leaving them down on the counter as she looked properly at him. He had a cheeky grin on his face that made her want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. ‘’Don’t sneak up on me like that.’’

‘’I would have warned you, but I can’t bloody hear myself think over this shite music.’’ he laughed as he made his way over to the counter and pressed the volume down on the speaker that was bellowing endless pop tunes. 

‘’Don’t hate on Sabrina Carpenter; she’s an icon.’’ 

‘’I haven’t a clue who that is.’’ Harry narrowed his eyes at her as she made her way towards him, wrapping her hands around his waist. 

Looking up at him, Y/N laughed, ‘’Course you don’t, you old man.’’ With a kiss to his lips, she smiled, and she took her arms from his waist, wanting to get a better look at him. ‘’How was your day?’’

‘’Was alright.’’ Harry sighed, ‘’Saw the lads for a bit and picked up the last of the boxes from storage, but that’s all. How was yours?’’

‘’OK. Better now you’re home.’’ she smiled. 

The word home almost made Harry’s heart explode out of his chest. It just sounded so good and so right. This place was home, especially with the two here together. 

‘’Think there’s a problem with the electrics though; the lights kept flickering earlier. I hope this place isn’t haunted - they never advertised that.’’ She laughed. 

''Oh, for fuck sakes.’’ Harry cursed, pulling her hand so that her body was nearer to him and away from the counter. ‘’Well, at least I’m here now to protect you from anything scary.’’

Y/N snorted, ‘’Some job you’d do at protecting me—you're scared of everything, silly.’’

''Oh, shut up and gimme me a kiss.’’ he said before separating the space between them once again. 

✩ ✩ ✩

A couple of hours had passed, and Y/N and Harry had managed to unpack all the boxes from the kitchen, living room, and bedroom, leaving all the others piled up in a spare room, ready for them to tackle the following day. To say they were exhausted would have been an understatement.

‘’I’m here all day tomorrow.’’ Harry hummed, ‘’What’s the unpacking plan?’’  

‘’Hmm, I’m thinking we start with the spare rooms.’’ Y/N yawned, her body relaxing into Harry’s body as the pair lay on the sofa, his hands delicately playing with her hair. ‘’Then maybe we could do your filming room; you’ll need that soon enough, won’t you?’’ 

‘’What about your office?’’ Harry asked, knowing Y/N loved her little office she had in their old flat. The two loved one another’s company, don’t get them wrong, but sometimes it was nice that they had their own separate little rooms where they could get on with whatever they needed to that day with no distractions—Harry mostly shouting at his computer filming a More Sidemen video and Y/N working on her fashion blog, headphones on so she didn’t hear her lover screaming every ten minutes. 

‘’That can wait. You need your room done more than me; you have all that filming to do.’’ She poked at his side. 

‘’You’re an angel, d’you know that, ’’ Harry smiled. ‘’We’ll try to do both.’’

Y/N hummed into him, knowing that they probably would only end up doing one room before Harry ended up getting distracted while he unpacked, finding some random useless item he had kept from 2014. ‘’We’ll try.’’

‘’You feeling tired?’’ Harry asked as he kept playing with her hair. She always got tired whenever he did it, usually lulling to sleep half the time, but Harry didn’t mind; he enjoyed watching her pretty eyes flutter to sleep, knowing she felt safe in his embrace. 

‘’Not really.’’ She lied. ‘’Why, what are you thinking?’’

Pulling his hand from her head, she looked up at him dreamily, and it was like she could see the thoughts spinning around his head as he watched her intently. 

‘’Just thinking we haven’t christened the house yet is all.’’ He smiled, a smirk toying at the corners of his mouth. 

‘’Christened the house?’’ Y/N laughed, moving to prop herself up to get a better look at her smirking boyfriend. 

‘’Yeah, you know, like they do in the movies.’’

‘’What sort of movies have you been watching?’’ Y/N snorted. 

''Oh, shut up, don’t you start,’’ Harry tutted playfully, ‘’Y’know what I mean.’’

‘’Go on then; tell me more.’’ Y/N teased.

Harry laughed. So she wanted to indulge him. Thought she was tired? Bullshit.

‘’Just feel like we’ve got a lot of rooms to christen, big house and all,’’ He pressed a kiss on her cheek. ‘’I’m thinking we start upstairs and work our way around the house.’’

‘’All in one night? You’ll be knackered.’’ She teased again.

‘’We’ve got forever, lovely, not just the night,’’ Harry smiled. ''Plus, I think you’ll be the knackered one once I’ve had my way with you.’’ Pressing another kiss on her other cheek. 

‘’Is that so?’’ Y/N’s voice spoke. Yeah, she wasn’t tired anymore at all.  

‘’Yes, doll,’’ Harry grinned, ‘’Don’t pretend you don’t know it.’’

‘’Hmm,’’ she sighed before getting up from the sofa, untangling herself from his grasp and the mounds of blankets that surrounded them. ‘’Race you upstairs then.’’ She said this before legging it out the living room door. She could hear Harry groan from the sofa as she waited momentarily outside the doorway, not wanting to run too far ahead of him. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever moved so fast in his life, chucking the blankets and his phone to the side as he raced out the door to see her not that far ahead of him, nearing the staircase. 

‘’Thought you were faster than that, lovely.’’ He laughed as he chased after her, hands flying out in front of him to try and take hold of her hand but failing as she was always just a few inches ahead of him. 

‘’Come on, slow coach.’’ She echoed from the top of the stairs, and he could see that his hoodie that she’d been wearing for the past few hours had been discarded over the bannister. What a menace, he thought. 

With her just out of sight, he took heavy steps up the stairs before pausing at the top, letting out a sigh of happiness. His favourite girl in the world, running around their house as she shouted for him from their bedroom—he could so get used to this, he knew that for sure. 

Their home together, forever.

✩ ✩ ✩

a/n: hope you enjoyed this little blurb!!! i'll try and get back to doing my requests and series updates more frequently - just need to find the time x

[belovedwhore]

pretty boy

ethan landry x reader

warnings: a little bit of plot, smut obv, fingering, blowjob, “nipple play” like barely, and ethan’s a lowkey sub

notes: i watched scream 6 yesterday and i had to like this man is just so fine. also this takes place at the party so technically he isn’t ghostface just yet so we’ll leave it at that. just a normal college boy :)

if you like this lmk what other stuff you’d want to read for ethan, in need of prompts!!!

pt 1 , pt 2 , pt 3 , pt 4 , pt 5 , pt 6

————————————————————————

it was halloweekend and you and your friends came to a frat party. you and tara had dressed as pirates just grabbing stuff that was left around. the party was going pretty well, well until you took a long swig of a bottle of pink whitney and ran upstairs after seeing your ex hooking up with this girl that was “just a friend”, what a load of bullshit. you went into the nearest unlocked room, closing the door behind you and locking it.

“fuck me,” you muttered to yourself, “fuck me in the fucking ass.”

you turned around to go sit down on the bed and there sat ethan, well a rather red faced ethan after your remark, just looking at you. ethan was a part of your friend group, the cute dorky guy. his cardboard robot costume was littered on the floor, leaving him in his joggers and a shirt. you were surprised he wasn’t somewhere with chad getting a pep talk to finally talk to a girl.

“hey,” he greeted giving you a small wave as if you two weren’t the only people in the room.

“god were you gonna say anything sooner I didn’t know anyone was in here,” you answered as you walked over and sat in front of him while his back was against the headboard.

“oh sorry, my bad.”

“nah it’s fine, worse shit has happened to me tonight that’s for sure.”

“like what,” he inquired.

“well for starters my ex is fucking the bitch that he said he was “just friends” with during our whole relationship so,” you responded hurriedly and angrily.

“oh i’m so sorry, that’s messed up.”

“yes it is, welcome to my life pretty boy”

you hadn’t meant to say the nickname out loud but that long drink was starting to hit you and you couldn’t care less at the moment. ethan blushed at your comment, looking down unable to meet you eye.

“hey,” you told him, “look at me.”

you grabbed both sides of his face with your hands and giggled, “such a pretty boy with pretty lips.”

at this point ethan was bright red and speechless, just muttering words trying to form a sentence, “l-l-l-look i think you’re drunk.”

“i’m fine, anyways i have a question.”

“ok,” he gulped, “what’s up.”

with your answer you pulled his head closer to you own, lining your lips up right next to his ear, “do you think it’s fair that my ex gets to fuck someone tonight and i don’t?”

as you finished your sentence you could feel ethan’s breath hitch in his throat, it made you smile. you moved his head back in front of you so you were face to face once again.

“is it?,” you reiterated

ethan quickly shook his head no, unable to speak. with your hands still on his neck you moved his head closer to you once again but this time your lips were only an inch away.

“i couldn’t hear you pretty boy, i said do you think it’s fair that i don’t get fucked tonight.”

“n-no,” he answered quickly.

“great, glad to know we’re on the same page,” you said quickly as you brought his lips to yours and kissed him.

you could tell he was shocked by the suddenness of the kiss because his lips were kind of stiff but moments later they melted into the kiss. you led the kiss, poking your tongue past his lips to entangle his tongue with your own, and with this you could hear his moans. it was music to your ears. without breaking the kiss you moved to straddle his waist, as his hands fell to your own, lowering yourself on his clothed length that was hardening by the second. this pressure caused him to let out a grunt into the kiss as he bucked his hips, hitting your center. you tangled your hands with the curly hair at the nape of his neck, yanking it back towards the headboard, separating the kiss so you were looking in each other’s eyes. both of you were breathing heavily, ethan’s lips all pink and swollen from your kissing, fuck he was so hot. breathless he looked up at you while you took off your vest to reveal yourself in a white shirt that you’d spilled on earlier at the party. with no bra on your nipples were exposed through the fabric and you think ethan may have died right then and there.

he began to move his hands from your waist up the sides of your body until they rested right next to your tits. he looked at you as he slowly took one hand to grope one of them. you bit your lip at this feeling, as his hands were both rough and soft as he kneaded your tit. watching you still he swiped his thumb across your clothed nipple earning a lustful reaction. you moaned and muttered curses under your breath, with you head rolling back. he took this as encouragement to continue. he resumed with both hands massaging and kneading your tits, twisting and pinching your nipples now and then. all this made your core ache as you felt the wetness pooling between your legs, you rolled your hips against ethan’s dick chasing some sort of friction. you took your top off and laid your tits bare to him. and he took this opportunity to latch his lips to one of your nipples, nibbling and swirling his tongue around it while still playing with the other. your body jolted at this sudden rush of pleasure, you couldn’t keep quiet,

“oh fuck ethan,” you moaned as he licked you nipple.

breaking his contact with your tit you bring his face to yours once again and resume the kiss, the rhythm much faster and fervent this time. your lips molded together perfectly with the occasional moan into the kiss as ethan still played with your nipples. you reached under his shirt, looking for bare skin to touch and you felt the ridges of his abs fuck you forgot how ripped he was. you broke the kiss to pull his shirt off his head needing to see his bare chest. after it was off he leaned forward to reconnect your lips but you pushed him back,

“my turn.”

and you leaned forward placing kisses on his neck as he moaned in response. you sucked on special spots, sure to leave a mark that’d show later. it was so hot hearing him moan under your touch, he bucked his hips as you kissed under his ear in hopes of some sort of friction. as you continued to kiss all over his body your hand trailed to the waistband of his sweatpants, tracing his v-line into the article of clothing. you palmed his clothed length feeling him jolt underneath your touch,

“oh oh my god,” he breathlessly moaned unable to come up with any other words.

suddenly you felt his hand creep under your skirt and onto your own bundle of nerves, massaging the mound through your panties.

“oh ethan,” you moaned

wanting to touch more of him you reached your hand into his joggers until his own grabbed your wrist and stopped you. confused you looked up at him tilting your head slightly.

“umm,” he muttered quietly, “i-i wanna do you first.”

with his hand still on your heat he began to rub over your clothed center once again. you hummed in agreement as his fingers sent shocks through your body. you soon reconnected the kiss, wanting to feel him on your lips as he played with your pussy. you felt him drag your panties to the side, exposing your bare cunt directly to his fingers. this new feeling caused you to jolt up but you felt his other hand on your waist holding you down. he swiped his finger through your arousal and around your entrance until he dipped his middle finger into the hole, burying it deep inside you. you loudly gasped, pulling away from the kiss as you jolted up a bit.

“oh my god, did that hurt, i’m so sorry, shouldn’t have done that,” ethan rambled

he began to remove his hand from your cunt until you stopped him.

“don’t fucking move.”

you pushed yourself back down onto his finger, moaning the entire way down. he watched as you squirmed on top of his hand until he was fully inside you again.

“pretty boy please move your finger,” you teased.

ethan quickly snapped out of his daze and began to finger you slowly, curling his finger so he was pressing on the bundle of nerves that had built up over this time.

“another…” you spoke breathlessly, “another finger.”

he obliged sliding his ring finger into you, the new pressure began to spur you towards the edge but there’s something you still needed.

practically fucking yourself on his fingers you whined, “faster ethan, you need to go faster. you’re not gonna hurt me.”

and that simple ask was all it took for him to rapidly increase his pace. he immediately started to pound his fingers into you, curling them repeatedly to hit your spot.

you cried out, “fuck oh my- i’m gonna cum,” and this only spurred him on as he captured one of your tits in his mouth and violently sucked on your nipple.

and suddenly you froze, your pussy clenched around ethan’s fingers and your legs felt weak as your orgasm ripped through you. your head fell onto his chest out of exhaustion, and his fingers were still inside you through your high as you clenched violently around them. you kissed him softly, a bit tired after your insane orgasm. slowly you pulled his hand out from under you, gasping at the loss of his fingers inside of you. you placed his middle and ring finger inside your mouth, swirling your tongue around them, cleaning them of your arousal. he looked at you, mouth wrapped around his fingers and felt a twitch in his pants. he breathed heavily as you pulled yourself off of his fingers and he pulled you in for a kiss, tasting you on your own tongue. as you made out you moved your hand once again to palm his clothed dick but wasted no time reaching into his pants. you felt his bare length, veins bulging as you felt his tip was already leaking insane amounts of precum. he shuddered viciously into the kiss under your touch.

“you’re big pretty boy,” you whispered into his ear as you swiped your finger over his slit that was leaking precum.

“oh my god,” he started as you began to move your hand up and down his shaft slowly. he roughly groaned, shifting on the bed as you began to speed up. you watched him intently with his eyes screwed shut and heavy breathing. you spit down between the two of you, onto his cock so your hand would glide better on his skin. this unfamiliar feeling caused ethan to buck his hips, fucking himself into your hand.

“oh fuck i’m gonna- oh my god,” he groaned as he finished in your hand, eyes screwed shut and his dick twitching as he shot out loads of cum onto your stomach. you kept pumping him through his orgasm until he was whimpering and letting out a string of profanities under his breath.

he didn’t even know how hot he was, sitting there violently moaning as he came all over you, god you needed him. as he opened his eyes, you grabbed his face and placed a couple pecks to his lips.

“you’re cute when you cum pretty boy,” you said to him, making him turn red immediately.

you pulled him closer to you and kissed him thoroughly once again until you both heard a violent knock on the door, causing you both to jump.

“ethan are you in there, it’s chad we gotta go, her ex pissed her off and we can’t find her,” spoke the voice.

ethan looked at you and responded still out of breath, “ok yea i’ll be out in a second, just gimme a minute.”

“alright,” chad responded.

as his footsteps faded away before getting off ethan’s lap you whispered to him, “you owe me a fuck.”

[noxturnalpascal]

Dancing is a Dangerous Game

(FrankieMorales  x  F!Stripper!Reader)

A/N & Warnings: Sexual Content below - 18+ only, Frankie doing what he do (iykyk), unspecified age gap (anywhere from 10-15 yrs), talk of stripping/dancing as a job that pays the bills. The photos on the Moodboard are just for fun, the female Reader is not specifically physically described so you can imagine her however you want. Thank you to @saradika for the divider.

Did I make this prompt up myself for me and some fellow writers? Yes. Did I set the word count limit? Also Yes. Did I stick anywhere even close to that limit? *laughs hysterically.

PROMPT: Pick a Pedge Daddy character - Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dave York, etc. (it can be Canon or Non-Canon/AU/No Outbreak).

PPCU Daddy is surprised - and excited - to learn that the grad/postgrad student he hires to watch his child sometimes also works as a: stripper/dancer/cam-girl/onlyfans-model/dating-or-escort-service (or straight-up SW) 

*1000 word Minimum - 2000 word Maximum

WC: 4749  (I have a problem)

Frankie’s mouth was hanging open. He knew he should close it. He knew he looked like a weirdo. He knew he was about to get a “Catfish, lookin’ like a fish” joke from his friends. But for the life of him he couldn’t take his eyes off the stage, or close his gaping jaw.

Not since his babysitter walked on stage and started taking her clothes off.

To be fair, you're not his babysitter anymore. Not since he called you three weeks ago asking if you could babysit for him tonight and you broke the news to him that you'd gotten a new job and couldn't babysit anymore. At least now he understands why you left the not-so-lucrative world of babysitting for an arguably better-paying gig. 

You've only been dancing for two minutes and he already sees more money on the stage than he would've paid you to sit his kid tonight. He’s been watching as you undulate your body across the stage, bending and dipping, stripping down to your underwear. Even though part of him thinks he should, he definitely doesn’t look away when you divest yourself of your lacy little bra.

He always thought you were hot. He was a newly-single dad, interviewing you for a semi-regular babysitting gig. He tried to focus on your resume and your qualifications. He tried to breathe through his mouth so he couldn’t smell your delicate perfume. He tried to ignore the dewy pink lipgloss you had spread across your mouth, which is in stark contrast to the bright red lipstick you are currently sporting.

He was very motivated by the fact that you, as a graduate student in your mid-20’s, seemed more responsible to leave his kid with than the other applicants to his babysitting ad, all of whom were literal teenagers. But truth be told - you were also really fucking hot. Horny dad and the hot babysitter, what a fucking cliche he was.

However, in the eleven months you babysat for him, he never acted on his inappropriate attraction to you. He never treated you as anything other than an employee. You’d show up to his house, hair in a messy bun, wearing comfy clothes, ready to sit on the living room floor all evening playing with his kid. He was polite, and respectful, and was almost positive you never caught him staring at your tits.

Your tits that he’s most definitely staring at right now. Holy shit you have great tits.

“Fuckin’ A Fish, if you’re gonna keep your mouth open, you could at least pour some beer into it.”

“Huh?” Frankie snaps his head back to the table he’s sat at, surrounded by his friends. They all chuckle. 

“We’re about to order the next round and you didn’t even drink any of that one yet,” Benny says as he points to the dripping bottle in Frankie’s hand.

Oh, sorry, Frankie mumbles as he pushes the now-warm bottle to his lips and begins to drink the beer down, his eyes moving back to the stage. The entire club is lit only by colored lights that coordinate with the twirling lights and lasers pointed at the stage, pulsating to the tempo of the music you’ve picked. Fog rolls across the floor of the stage, cascading over the edge. 

There’s a single golden pole at an outcropping of the stage that you’re now gripping with both hands, sticking your ass out towards the audience and giving it a wiggle. You let go of the pole and hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties. You slowly begin to push them down and just as the crack of your ass comes into view Frankie momentarily forgets that he can’t swallow liquid and breathe at the same time. 

He begins to sputter and cough, choking on the bubbly liquid and spurting it across the table onto the faces of half of his friends. He’s met with groans, curses, and several swats to the back of his head as he attempts to get his wheezing under control, and the fluid out of his trachea.

Santi, who somehow managed to avoid Frankie’s beer-foam projectile, slaps a palm on Frankie’s shoulder and says,

“Guys, Frankie’s real sorry, he’s just never seen a naked woman before.”

The laughter at Frankie’s expense serves as some form of forgiveness, and everyone slowly goes back to flirting with the wandering dancers and ordering their second round. Santi keeps his hand on Frankie’s shoulder and leans into Frankie’s personal space.

“You alright?” Santi asks, squeezing his friend’s shoulder firmly.

Frankie manages to mutter a strangled yeah before several rounds of trying to clear his throat. The lights have dimmed, sinking the club temporarily into a hazy darkness. He briefly registers that the song you were dancing to has ended, so you’ve most likely left the stage.

Santi laughs, shaking his head. He moves his mouth right to Frankie’s ear, almost whispering.

“When I convinced Will to have his bachelor party at this club I thought you’d be the one making your hot babysitter choke, not the other way around,” and he claps Frankie on the back hard, “if you know what I mean.”

Frankie’s eyes go wide as he meets Santi’s crooked grin, but his friend offers nothing more as he moves to the other side of the table, turning his devilish smile on the waitress. He orders two beers and three shots for each man, dismissing the groans of protest from the table. Bachelor Down!, he shouts at Will as everyone does their shots and chases them with cheap beer.

You approach the table full of men with seven other dancers, each of you assigned by the club to give a 20-minute private dance to one of the members of the bachelor party. You’re each in various states of dress, but most are only half-dressed. You’re back in your lacy underwear set - panties and bra - but the sheer nature of the fabric leaves little to the imagination. 

Your previous job as a part-time nanny worked while you were an undergrad. When you started law school it became too much and you had to switch to more infrequent evening babysitting gigs so you had your days free for school and studying. Unable to keep up with school payments you recently had to find something new. Something that only required night and weekend availability, but paid really well.

Enter: Stripping. 

You’ve only been doing this job for a little over a month but you’d quickly gotten very comfortable with being naked in front of strangers. You had your little dance routine and could easily make flirty banter with the club’s customers. Your boss was impressed enough that he’d started assigning you party gigs with some of the other girls, like this bachelor group.

You walk up to the group of strangers, the rest of the girls fan around the table as you’re left standing just behind a broad-shouldered man with a baseball cap on, curls sticking out from under the back strap. You turn to the man with a big smile on your face.

Holy Fuck. 

Not a Stranger.

It’s Francisco Morales. The hot dad you until-recently babysat for.

He looks at you sheepishly. Your hands immediately fly to cover your breasts, suddenly mortified that your nipples are showing through your nearly-transparent choice of outfit. 

“Mr. Morales!”

“Oh I- I already,” he begins to stutter. Is he telling you that he’s already seen your tits? 

You look around at the collection of empty beer bottles and shot glasses on the table and figure that they’ve all been here for much longer than just your dance. So covering your nipples does nothing for your modesty as hot dad has probably already seen everything. You drop your arms to your side, attempting to look relaxed and casual.

“So I-uh. I guess you found a babysitter for tonight.”

He laughs. He actually laughs at your awkward attempt at diffusing the tension. Thank god. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can say anything one of his friends is speaking to the group. He explains that “everyone gets a private dance” and no one can object - and he looks right at Mr. Morales when he says this - because “it’s all been paid for already.”

Following the lead of the other girls you gently grab Mr. Morales’ hand, missing the looks back and forth between him and his friend. You do your best to confidently lead him back to the private rooms with the rest of his group. There are a dozen rooms in the hallway and eight of them have been held in reserve for this bachelor party group. Pulling him inside the last room on the right, you close the door behind you. 

The room is dim, save for the red glow of the lights. The ceiling and floor are both painted black and the three walls without the door are mirrored. Towards the left is a single high-backed black leather chair facing a brass pole that sits in the exact center of the room. On the far side of the room is a curved loveseat against the wall.

This should be easy. Not just because this is your job but because unlike any other man you’ve ever led back here, this is a man you are extremely attracted to. 

This is a man you have fantasized about.

You’ve imagined his curls between your fingers when you’ve grabbed a fistful of a customer's hair, imagined that it’s his stubble scratching between your breasts when you’ve pressed them close. You’ve envisioned his wide chest as you ran your hands down their front, his massive paws in your hands as you’ve taken their sweaty palms and placed them on your rolling hips. 

You’ve wished they were his thighs that you were grinding your ass onto and his erection that you all-too-frequently felt pressing into you. That should make this easy. But instead you’re super fucking nervous. Even more nervous than your first night here, when you dragged your panties down your legs and bent over, exposing your pussy lips to a packed room of strangers. 

What makes you most nervous is probably that the fantasies didn’t stop in the club. It would be one thing if they were just here, serving as a comfort, self-soothing by putting a familiar face in place of a groping stranger’s face. But that’s not the truth. You’ve imagined him at home too. 

In the shower, pretending your hands were his hands as you pinched and plucked at your wet nipples. Daydreaming about his weight on top of you, fucking into you, as you drove one of your toys in and out of your wet cunt. 

And if you’re being perfectly honest, you can admit that it’s been going on for almost a year, since shortly after he hired you to be his babysitter. Remembering the times you’d made yourself come on his couch, hours after his kid had fallen asleep, waiting for him to return home from a night out with his friends. Your hand stuffed down the front of your pants, petting your clit to the thought of him on his knees in front of you.

You never thought you’d actually be naked in front of your fantasy-DILF. This is like being slapped in the face with your own wet dreams. This is kind of a nightmare.

“Listen, you don’t have to-” he begins just as you start to speak as well.

“Mr. Morales I know-” and you both stop and let out breathy, nervous laughs.

“C-Can you please stop calling me Mr. Morales?”

“Oh sorry! Is that weird?”

“It sounds like the start of a bad porno,” he groans, laughing again. “Please just call me Frankie.”

“Of course, I’m so sorry Mist- Frankie. Sorry. Frankie.”

You both break out in laughter again, loudly this time, hoping to finally diffuse some of the tension. A knock sounds at the door and a deep voice - security - asks if everything is alright. You shout back that everything is fine and the room quiets down.

“I should start the music and get going,” you say quietly, motioning for him to sit on the curved red velvet seat against the far wall.

You press a button above his head and music starts up, the first of three songs forming a 10-minute loop that will repeat for this booking. You look into the mirrored wall to your left and notice how nervous you look. Then you meet his eyes in the mirror. Why does he look just as nervous?

You straddle one of his legs and shakily reach back to undo the clasp on your bra. You meet his eyes again. Fuck he can see how your hands are shaking. You look like such a fucking kid. A goddamn amateur. This is going to be the least-sexy lapdance he’s ever been given. 

You can’t stop the gasp that leaves your lips when you suddenly feel his hot hands covering yours at your back. 

“You can leave this on if you’d be more comfortable,” he says softly, barely heard over the pumping bass of the music.

“No I’m fine, I��m just…” you don’t know how to explain to him without embarrassing yourself but suddenly you’re making an admission and the word-vomit has left your mouth before you can even do anything to stop it. “I just always thought you were hot.” 

There it is. It’s out there now. 

He opens his mouth to say something and your nerves bubble up and come out as more words and why the fuck are you talking more?

“I know, I know,” you spit out before he can get a word in, “the babysitter thirsting after the hot dad, how prosaic, right? Talk about a bad porno.”

His warm hands still touching you, he slowly moves his fingers around yours, deftly undoing the clasp of your bra for you.

“It’s okay, I kinda… thought you were hot too,” his admission slips out in a whisper.

You really want to kiss him right now. But that would be a very bad idea. Security patrols the hallway and the door has a small window towards the top of it. It allows security to peek inside and see from the shoulders up. Usually if they can see your shoulders, all is good. If they can’t see your shoulders, it gives them an idea if rules are being broken or if the girls need help. 

Kissing - among other things - is against the rules.

You barely turn to look at the windowed door but you’re embarrassed to think that Frankie must know what you’re thinking because it’s like he can read your mind. Or maybe he’s just thinking about kissing you too? Either way he puts his hands back down to his sides and lets you lean into him, allowing your bra to slowly shift down your shoulders until it falls into his lap.

Your tits are right in his face. You’re half naked in front of the hot dad whose child you used to babysit. The hot dad who you’ve pictured doing this exact thing with - and more. But he’s not even looking at your tits. He’s looking you right in your eyes and making you feel more naked than you’ve ever been in your whole life.

He shouldn’t be here, not doing this, not with you. He should ask for a different girl. He should tell the security guy to kick him out. He’s making you so uncomfortable, he can tell by your twitching movements and halting breaths. He can’t stop staring at you like he’s some kind of lonely creep, what a fucking weirdo he’s being.

You position your legs on the outside of his, keeping his legs slightly open and his hands obediently face-down on the couch next to him. You’re straddling him but hovering above his lap, seemingly careful not to touch him. When you put your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself you begin to stiffly roll your body towards and then away from him.

He doesn’t know where to look. He can’t keep looking at your face, he knows the eye-contact is getting very disturbing. Why the hell did he tell you he kinda thought you were hot too? At least he didn’t admit the truth, that he thought you were fucking supernova-hot. He’s had to bite his tongue countless times to stop from asking you out.

He focuses his eyes at the hollow dip that lies at the base of your throat. It has a dance of its own, moving slightly with your pulse and rolling with your shallow breaths, the rise and fall of your chest a baseline rhythm. He tries not to think about your bare breasts just below, breasts that he’s thought about putting his hands on every single time you’ve walked into his house for the last year. 

He can see your deep red lips in his peripheral vision, and immediately the image of those lips on his skin is conjured. He pictures a chaste kiss planted on his cheek followed by a less-chaste thought of his thumb pressed into your mouth, your eyes looking up at him while your lips leave a red ring on his hand. He needs to fucking calm down. This is just a dance. You’re at work doing your literal job.

He suddenly notices you’ve almost completely stopped moving. He looks up at your face and you’re wearing a tight, pained expression. His brows furrow. Oh no. What’s wrong? Is his erection noticable? Is he creeping you out too badly? Do you want him to leave? He opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay but you silence him with a gentle squeeze to his shoulders.

“I think I’m gonna die if you don’t touch me,” you squeak out in a strained whisper.

In the back of his head a part of him thinks that he shouldn’t immediately cave. It shouldn’t be this easy. Part of him thinks he should need more than just you saying that. 

But he doesn’t. At all.

He slowly slides his body down the sofa, pushing his frame between your legs. You move your feet apart to accommodate his wide shoulders once you realize he won’t fit otherwise. He stops when his ass is sitting on the floor and his head is just above the seat of the sofa, you towering over him. He reaches down and begins to take off your platform heels one at a time. 

As your bare feet hit the floor you run your hands up your neck, over your face, and through your hair, your knees knocking at his shoulders. Touching you gently with only two fingers on each hand, he pushes on the backs of your thighs, guiding you even closer to his face. He grabs your feet and holds them in his hands, forcing your legs to fold and pushing your knees past his ears as his head rests back on the seat.

You’re kneeling at the edge of the sofa, shins on the cushion, feet dangling over his shoulders, your toes curled in his massive hands on his chest, and his head between your thighs. Your face still looks uneasy, and he can just make out whining noises over the music. High-pitched and breathy, the way a dog would beg for scraps at the dinner table.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna touch you now,” he growls.

You grab the brim of his hat and twist it off his head, immediately diving your fingers into his locks. He squeezes your toes and you take his cue, lifting your hips and canting them towards his waiting mouth. Latching his mouth onto your underwear, he runs his tongue up and down your covered seam. 

He feels you begin to rock your hips into his face, rolling your body above him. Any security who looked in the window would see your shoulders moving to the beat and assume you were kneeling on the couch and giving a lap dance. He can only barely see you from his angle, sees the lace of your panties, sees your wrists grabbing at his hair.

Letting go of one of your feet, he grabs at your wrist, dragging your hand from his head to the front of your own underwear. You run your fingers down yourself, parting them around his mouth, letting his tongue tangle in them. Then you grab the edge of the gusset and pull it to the side.

Wasting no time, he immediately begins to lick at your folds, tasting the wetness that has gathered there. A lot of wetness. Christ, you’re so fucking wet. His nose touches just below your clit and a string of your arousal attaches him to you when he pulls back slightly.

A slight pause in the music has his heart stop and his stomach in his throat. After a couple seconds - that seem to stretch on forever - the first song begins playing again, restarting what must be a looped set of music. 

That must mean this private dance-time is halfway over. Ten minutes left but since you two probably started after everyone else you might not have the full ten minutes of privacy if his friends decide to burst in the door. Which, if they’re led by Santi, is a real possibility.

Less than ten minutes. No problem.

You must also feel the sense of urgency because you adjust your hand that is holding your panties to the side. You take your thumb and pointer finger and move them over yourself, parting your lips to open yourself more to him and pulling up slightly, exposing your nub. He flattens his tongue in response and drags it over your sensitive bundle, noting the way your body trembles when he does so.

He knows he doesn’t have the time to edge you as he’d like to, but he can’t help himself when he moves his head lower and twists his tongue into your hole, thrusting it into you. You are bouncing yourself slightly up and down, helping him fuck yourself on his tongue. He feels your wetness pouring over his lips and dripping down through his whiskers.

He feels your hand leave your own body and tangle back in his curls along with your other one, grabbing two fistfuls of hair tightly in your grip. Having had enough of his teasing you’re apparently deciding to take matters into your own hands.

Frankie loves eating pussy but this? This might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

He angles his head perfectly, opens his mouth, and sticks his tongue out stiffly as you begin to grind your pussy against his face. You’re using his nose, his tongue, his chin, even the bristles of his facial hair. You’re using whatever you can to get yourself off as you ride his face. It takes everything in his power not to break out in a giant smile.

He doesn’t hear you, you’re still being the quietest you’ve been since you got in this room, but he feels it. Shit, does he ever feel it. He feels your body tense, then your legs quiver, feels the pulsing in your cunt as you press yourself firm into his still-open mouth. He gently laps up your gushing orgasm as you release the grip on his hair and whimper softly above him.

Knowing you’re short on time, he has you climb off him much sooner than he’d like you to. Your heavy-lidded eyes meet his and then yours go wide. You bend down and grab his hat, plopping it back on his head and attempting to tame his just-fucked-hair back underneath it. You run to the corner of the room and grab a small robe hanging on a hook, skipping back over and roughly wiping his face off with it the way you would a toddler after a meal.

He quickly adjusts himself, tucking his protruding hardness under his belt in an attempt to conceal it as he watches you adjust your askew panties. Still topless, you throw the robe back towards the corner in a panic just as there is a quick knock at the door. Without a signal to enter the door flies open anyways, no less than three of his friends bursting through the doorway drunkenly, shots in hand for Frankie to partake in.

They make Frankie drink the shots before he even leaves the room and then they drag him away from you, hollering obnoxiously. All he can manage is an apologetic look over his shoulder as he hears the final song finally come to an end. Time’s up. Luckily you’re laughing at their antics and don’t seem to be upset. Maybe you were just flirting with him because that’s your job. Maybe you just wanted a good tip.

A tip! Shit.

Being dragged down the hallway Frankie grabs Santi by the arm and asks in his ear how much he should tip you. Santi says he usually tips $200. Frankie is shocked that a 20 minute dance would garner that big of a tip, but then again it’s been a long time since he’s been at a place like this. And to be fair, you - albeit unknowingly - let him fulfill a long-time fantasy of his.

$200 is more than he would have paid you to watch his kid tonight. No wonder you’re not his babysitter anymore. He fishes around in his wallet and takes out all the cash he has, $236. He manages to break off from the group of guys after they do another couple shots and he looks around for you. 

Unable to find you he spots one of the girls you came to the table with and she lets him know you’re on a break but she can get the tip to you. He hands her the folded bills and she thanks him by leaning in and giving him a peck on the cheek. When she pulls back from him she widens her eyes at him and flashes him a knowing smile.

“I’m sure she’s very appreciative… of the tip,” she winks.

Frankie tries not to blush and resists the urge to high-tail it to the bathroom and wash his face off, opting instead to keep the scent of you on him. He returns to the table of his too-drunk-to-notice friends and finishes out the night of revelry.

.

3:03am

Hey

Hi

3:06am

Sorry

3:09am

You’re probably asleep

3:10am

Hi

I’m just getting home actually

3:11am

Oh cool me too

Sorry to bother 

I just wanted to make sure you got your tip

I left it with your friend

3:14am

I did, yes. Thank you so much.

3:14am

Cool 👍

3:16am

Don’t take this the wrong way…

But how drunk were you tonight?

3:18am

Idk

Why?

What did I do?

I’m so sorry

3:19am

No, don’t be sorry!

I’m not trying to be rude.

I just….

Did you mean to tip me that amount?

3:25am

Oh my god

Was it not enough?

I can give you more

I’m really sorry

Do you have Venmo?

3:27am

No! OMG. It was plenty!

Literally the most I’ve ever been tipped is like 40%

You tipped me 118%

3:30am

Oh

3:31am

Yeah so I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get too drunk

And accidentally just give me everything in your wallet

3:35am

Is that what happened?

3:37am

Because I can Venmo some money back to you

It’s really not a problem

3:40am

Sorry no

I just tipped what my friend told me to

3:41am

Well I checked with the other girls….

NONE of your friends tipped that much

And they were all very generous!

3:44am

But none as generous as you

3:45am

He’s such an asshole

I’m sorry

I didn’t know

I feel like an idiot

3:46am

Again, please don’t be sorry

It was VERY generous of you

And I’m very grateful

3:50am

I was in a giving mood tonight I suppose

3:51am

Mr. Morales, is that you being flirty?

3:53am

Oh we’re back to Mr. Morales now?

3:55am

Can you get a babysitter on Wednesday night?

3:55am

I don’t have custody this week so no babysitter needed

Why?

3:56am

We should go out to dinner

3:57am

Oh we should?

3:59am

Yeah we should

Frankie

4:01am

MY treat

4:01am

LOL I should hope so!

4:02am

Pick me up at 7 😉

4:02am

I will

See you Wednesday

[killevru33]

Modern Sukuna x reader? My fav type of brain rot rn (more like obsession but live laugh love)

i saw a video of this guy doing makeup then my brain was like WOAH write this, so i did. MUAH

Modern Sukuna x reader where the reader does his makeup. Fluff with a little sprinkle of something else wink wink (still mostly fluff don’t be deceived)

2023 words. My bad got carried away

NOT edited sorry for any mistakes i cannot be bothered to fix anything i wanna go to sleep XO.

“Can you please stop moving, it is just a headband!” I tell the man in front of me practically yelling in his face.

I watch as he rolls his eyes but complying nontheless. “do you really only have this headband.” He mumbles as I finally get all his hair behind the fluffy headband that melts into his hair seamlessly, the same shade of pink as his.

“Yes, it is.” I lie to him with a smile on my face. He hums moving closer to me once I turn around looking for my moisturizer. I am sitting on our bathrooms sink with the entirety of my make-up bag scattered across countertop. I pop open the lid squeezing a fair amount onto my index finger. Putting the bottle down I turn to face my boyfriend who is now inches from my own face.

My breath catches in my throat as I feel his breath fan across my lips. “What’s this supposed to be?” He asks me without looking at the moisturizer that is sitting on my finger.

I let out a breath bringing it up to his face. “Its moisturizer Sukuna, I’ve put it on you before.” I mutter to him.

He smirks giving me a few inches of space as I turn around for yet another product.

Taking a moment to spot what my next step is, my eyes finally find the familiar primer I use every time I do my makeup.

I take the bottle directly to his face pumping a few drops onto his forehead, cheeks, and chin. I rub it in gently, admiring how clear his skin is. I cannot even recall the last time I saw a pimple on his perfect face.

“I think it’s good princess.” Sukuna speaks out a smirk evident in his tone.

I stop rubbing in the primer leaning back to grab my concealer. “You’ve got great genetics.” I stupidly tell him.

He laughs and it feels like my heart skips a beat. Taking a breath, I remind myself this was my idea in the first place; I begged him for months to let me do this. He just randomly agreed this time catching me of guard as I was prepared for the rejection I have received every time I asked.

I twist open my concealer taking the wand to his face. I smear a fair amount under his eyes concentrating on his inner corners. I put a small bit of product under his nostrils and forehead, finishing with a swipe on each of his upper-jaw lines.

I then grab my eyebrow pencil using one end to brush his brow hairs. I twist the opposite end after flipping the pencil around; skillfully I draw tiny lines onto his already full eyebrows. Sukuna hands me a makeup brush with a thin and sharp shape. The next few minutes I silently carve out his brows.

I feel Sukuna place his hands on my waist, slowly rubbing my hips as I finish up. I turn and grab my setting spray and beauty blender. Sukunas hands come to a stop and then on my left hip I feel a tight pinch. “Ow?!” I screech moving as far back from the man who assaulted my skin.

He chuckles putting his hands on my lower back, pushing back up. “What?” he asks innocently.

I roll my eye deciding to move on from his attack. I spray my beauty blender with my setting spray then onto his face ignoring the way he flinches his face as the mist coats his skin. Once I go to pat the beauty blender onto his skin he flinches again. I eye him trying again only for the same response. “Sukuna.” I warn him only for him to still avoid my beauty blender. “Please just don’t move.” I groan pleading with him.

He does it again, so I grab his chin using most my strength to pull him closer. I hold him in place patting the concealer into his face and he lets me. Afterwords I move to get my liquid contour keeping my hand on his chin. I look over his face and giggle noticing the tone difference between us.

“What’s so funny.” He grumbles eyeing my hands movement. I open the container grabbing my designated brush to rub the contour under his check bones, then onto his nose to define it even more.

“The concealer is definitely not your shade.” I giggle out simultaneously blending the contour in.

He makes a displeased face but stays silent, going back to watching me intently. Satisfied with my blending I switch my contour and brush for my liquid blush, and it’s nominated brush that only ever touches blush products. Quickly I spray the brush with setting spray before dipping it onto the product. I take the brush to Sukunas upper check bone; blending it up till it touches the edges of his brow. Repeating the step on the other side I subconsciously lean into him.

He grabs onto my upper thighs giving them a tight squeeze. I move to add more product onto the brush but before I can apply more to his face he speaks up. “Careful with that, you got a history of blush blindness.”

I pull back astounded from the words that came out of his mouth. “Come again.” I demand more then ask.

“You heard me.” He licks his lips concealing a smirk that I know to well.

My jaw goes slack. “I have never once! Had blush blindness the fuck is you talking about?!”

“Come on be for real.” He deadpans

I grimace shaking my head asking as if a bug was buzzing in my ear. Taking a long breath in I meet his eyes. “I like a rosy look, sue me.”

“Whatever you wanna call it.” He drawls out.

“Are you telling me you don’t like my makeup?” I grill him, putting the blush down getting out the setting spray again.

He rubs my thighs, giving me a soft peck on the check. “No. I just like making your checks rosy myself.”

If it was not for the blush currently on my own skin, he would have seen what he liked. “That’s cheeky” I whisper distracting myself with spraying the setting spray all over his face forcing him to close his eyes, offering me a shield from his eyes to try and compose myself.

I place the setting spray down grabbing one of my most expensive products.

“Give me a warning next time you spray that shit woman.” He coughs out dramatically. I roll my eyes ignoring him as I softly fan his face with my unoccupied hand.

After the setting spray is dry enough for my liking, I place it down and get my press puff. Looking down I place the product Ive been holding onto the counter. My hands slowly open the black lid with the words ‘Huda Beauty’ sketch on-top. I lift the lid, watching as the lose powders particles fly in the air; the smell of fresh florals softly fills the air around us. “Don’t move for this I wanna do it right.” I tell the man whose hands are moving up my body inch by inch.

He hums and I start my attack on his face. Pressing the powder under the contour on his checks, I get more powder onto my puff and outline his nose before going onto the rest of his face with the excess product.

“Mkay now I mascara and lashes.” I beam excitedly, I even went out of my way to save a pair of lashes so I can have fresh ones for this makeup look.

I grab all the items I will need having them ready at my side. Staring with the lashes I peal them off their package taking each one to his eye to map out where I will need to cut them. Getting his eye shape, I take the scissors beside me and cut the lashes to fit his eyes. I expertly get the glue for the application, perfectly aligning it onto the lashes band. Letting the lashes sit I grab my eyelash curler. “I’m gonna place this on your lashes, when I say so just blink really hard to curl them.” I instruct moving the curler to his lashes. He listens and closes his eyes after I say so making the process easy for me. I move back and trade the eye lash curler for my lash glue. I grab Sukunas chin and get even closer. Keeping my palm on his cheek I tell him to close his eyes. I gently place the lash glue right above where his lashes grow being as precise as I can.

I move myself back finished with the lash glue. I just stare at him for a moment, catching his deep brown eyes. He must be one of gods favourites. I study his face without shame. If I was a bystander it would look like I had hearts in my eyes. Maybe I do, but I cannot help it. From the sharpness of his bone structure to the thickness of his lashes and brows that most girls would kill for. His beauty sometimes overwhelms me even so I can never rip my eyes from it.

“you’re to pretty Kuna.” I tell him in my daze.

He stares at me unmoving for what feels like forever. The silence so loud between us. Then he moves quicker then my eyes can adjust to. Capturing my lips breathless kiss. I want to pull away and tell him he is going to ruin all the hard work I put into his makeup, to my disappointment he reads my mind. i’m left breathless and now I know for certain there I have heart eyes. Disheartening I do not go in for a second kiss, instead I go for the lashes, picking each one up to perfectly place upon his upper lash line; making sure the inner corners stay down.

I reach for my fluffiest brush to brush away all the powder that was baking on his face.

I look over his face, my smile starts to hurt. I look behind me for the finial touch. I grab the last step unscrewing the top, hearing a pop! As it opens. I pucker my lips motioning for him to do the same.

I glide the pinky gloss over his slightly swollen lips due to the kiss we shared.

Putting the gloss down I let out a soft shriek, pushing his hands off my waist I squeeze past him rushing for my phone. As soon as I come back into the bathroom I snap unnecessary amount of pictures.

“Oh, your in for it now.” Sukuna smirks reaching for my phone only for me to pull away, running out of the bathroom into our shared room.

Giggling uncontrollably like a little girl I go to the living room on one side of our coffee table. He’s right behind me the entire time now parallel to me. In a flash he jumps over the table snatching me up in his arms. I scream as we crash onto the couch. Sukuna grabs my phone tosses it without a single care somewhere on the other end of the couch. He has me trapped beneath him. I wiggle my hands free cupping his face. I gasp “I forgot highlighter!”

He scoffs at me, ignoring my distress. “I did something for you.” He starts taking a pause looking down to my lips. “Now I think it is only fair you do something for me.” I cannot even respond before he smashes his lips to mine much more rough compared to the last one. He picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist I don’t break the kiss. I run my hands up his hair. He takes us back to the bathroom, putting me down. He walks to the shower starting. He comes to where I am standing pulling my shirt followed by my pants. I tug at his shirt and he does the same. I go into the shower changing the temperature while he joins me.

Lets just say the makeup didn’t last long.

[ch0k3herwithaseaview]

@jegulus-microfic | march 16 arrange | words: 1094

hiii i don’t have much to say about this one really. it exists so you can enjoy it:3

Sirius lit another cigarette, still thinking about what he could do to make his brother and best friend stop pining after each other. He knew them his whole life—he basically raised Regulus and let James and his parents raise him. He knew them both inside and out, could see how one looked at the other, how they talked with each other, and how they cared for each other. He’s heard rants from them both about how they felt. And still, he couldn’t come up with anything.

When he lit up his fourth cigarette, the door behind him opened. Remus stood there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Honey, what are you doing? It’s almost three in the morning; come to bed,” his fiancé croaked in a sleepy voice.

Sirius sighed at that, propping his head on his knees. “I don’t know what to do with Reggie and James.”

“What about them?” Remus asked, walking closer and taking one cigarette for himself.

“You know, I want to help them get together, but I don’t know how I should do it. They would be so great together, Moony,” he groaned, throwing his head back.

Remus stood there, smoking, looking as if he were contemplating something. After a minute, he said, “We should arrange a date for them.”

Sirius sat up straighter and looked at his partner with a bright smile and hopeful eyes.

***

On Friday evening, James found himself in front of his mirror, getting ready for dinner with Remus and Sirius to celebrate their engagement. They chose this fancy Italian restaurant on a rooftop at Thames. It was too posh for James’ liking, but they served the most delicious pumpkin ravioli he ever ate, so he didn’t complain.

He put on a deep maroon shirt and black dress trousers, completing the outfit with a black trench coat, and went out. He lived just a few blocks away, so he took a walk there.

As he got to the restaurant, James approached the hostess and gave her the name from the reservation. She led him to a small table at the back, next to the window with a view of the river.

“Can I bring you something to drink, sir?” the woman asked with a polite smile.

“A bottle of white wine, please,” James replied, smiling back.

Regulus arrived shortly after him. He looked like a god with his perfectly curled black hair, wearing striped black suit trousers and a matching vest with a white high-collar shirt underneath. James felt his mouth water at the sight, but he tried to remain calm.

When the younger man approached their table, James stood up, smiling widely.

“Hi, Little Star,” he greeted cheerfully, and noticed Regulus’ cheeks turning a pretty pink colour.

“Hello, James. Where are the two idiots?” he asked, sitting down.

"They should be here soon," James replied, looking at his watch. Sirius told him that he and Remus would arrive around 8:30, so technically they had another fifteen minutes.

They didn’t get a chance to say anything else when a waiter came to them with a big wine selection.

“You choose,” James told Regulus. “I don’t know shit about these things.”

Reg just smiled and picked the one called Vernus Recioto di Soave—something sweet, he said. The man serving them poured some into their glasses, waiting for approval, then left the bottle at the table and walked away, giving them time to choose something from the menu.

“I’m taking the pumpkin ravioli. Periodt” James said as soon as he got the small book. Regulus looked at him, smirking. “What?” The older man asked, amused.

"Nothing,” Reg said, still smirking. “Why don’t you try something else? I could choose for you.”

“Oh?” James laughed a little. “Should I pick something for you, then? It would be fair, don’t you think?” In response, Regulus chuckled and nodded, mumbling a quiet okay.

They sat there for another twenty minutes when James’ phone rang: Sirius.

“Hello, darling” came from the other end of the line.

“Hi, Pads. Where are you?” James asked, giggling.

“Yeah, about that,” his friend started, dragging out the first word. “We’re not coming.” James’ eyes went wide at that.

“What do you mean?” he asked, a bit stunned.

“We are not going to the restaurant. But don’t worry, we still pay for dinner,” Sirius added quickly. “Have fun with Reggie, byeee,” and then the call ended. This motherfucker, James should kill him.

He threw the phone back at the table, exhaling loudly.

“What?” Regulus asked, confused.

James cleared his throat and answered, “Well, they’re not coming, but they’ll still pay.” Reg’s eyebrows shoot up in shock, but quickly his face turns into something mischievous.

“So we shall take advantage of my brother’s card,” he said, winking at James.

When their waiter came back, they ordered the meals they picked for each other, one beef carpaccio, the other beetroot, another bottle of wine for later, and a cheeseboard as a starter.

They drank wine, talked about what was going on in their lives, about dumb people they had to work with, and joked about their past. As the dishes arrived, they were already halfway through the second bottle, so another has been ordered.

When they were done with the main courses, the waiter suggested a dessert, so they ordered all seven there were.

“Can you charge someone by their card information?" Regulus asked when the waiter brought them the bill. The man just nodded in response, writing down the numbers Regulus gave him. They left a generous tip and went out of the restaurant.

James put his arm around Regulus’ shoulders, pulling him closer as they went down the river in the general direction of James' flat. Everything seemed funny to them at this point, so when they got to the apartment building, both of them were practically crawling on the pavement. After a few more minutes of laughter, they gathered themselves enough to look at each other with wide grins.

“It’s late, and it’s too dangerous to walk this far,” James said when Regulus suggested he should go home. “You can stay at mine, though,” he added, feigning nonchalance. The other’s eyes sparkled at the statement.

“Can I really?” he asked flirtatiously.

James laughed breathlessly and shook his head in response. Taking Regulus’ hand, he led them both to the second floor, to his flat.

When Sirius came to visit James the next morning and saw his best friend and brother cuddling on the bed, all he could think was that his mission had been accomplished.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Accidental Targ

Scene I: you guys into roleplay or what? | Masterlist

Daemon Targaryen x Modern!Reader

Summary: There was a party at the old castle ruins which raised the talk of an old urban legend. As the lore goes, upon the strike of midnight, for one whole minute, the arch, which used to be the entrance to the castle gates, would be a portal back to the height of the Targaryen dynasty. Of course, that complete and utter rubbish.

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: fem!reader, time travel au, descriptions of reader's hair, incestuous gremlin!daemon, crackfic, typos. etc.

A/N: The lore of this is actually based off an urban legend from the high school i went to, which is like 400+ years old, thus the ruins and portal back in time HAHAHAH Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @fan-goddess @daemons-kelitsos

The truth is, maybe I was a little too drunk to remember exactly what happened between the grinding in front of the DJ booth and game of dare or die, but I do know for a fact that I was incredibly lost. I recognized none of the landmarks that I stored in my head, and by the looks of it, I had wandered so far from the party I was now at the renaissance fair in town. Fucking Libby.

I pull out my phone from my tiny, glittery clutch bag and sling its gold chain around my shoulder. I go through my contacts and begin to ring Libby, heaving as I walked through the square.

The sound of the bustling people filled my ears. The night market was very much alive; it both gave me comfort and great anxiousness.

A bunch of people holler at me, calling me princess and my lady. I ignore them and continue in silence.

There was suddenly a wet squelching sound that snapped me out of my focus. I freeze in my spot, "fuck." I let out a groan and pull up the flare of my pants, "ohh fuckkkk."

These hot pink gogo boots were brand new! And now they were hot mess gogos, caked in fucking mud.

I tug up my shimmery and equally pink bell bottoms, doing my best to evade the rest of the mud in the area. I tread carefully, not wanting to further ruin my clothes or slip and fall on my ass.

I blow my hair out of my face. They really just had to add mud for the authenticity, huh? I comb through my silver hair after I get through the brown sludge.

Where the fuck is Libby?

I feel another wave of anxiousness creep up on me as I grow acutely aware of the people staring. I stand by the side of the street and stare at my phone. I release a breath and feel an ominous atmosphere thicken around me. I look around, catching a bunch of eyes staring back at me, and shift uncomfortably. I furrow my brows and clutch my purse and phone tightly, deciding I did not feel safe in this area. I begin to walk again.

I curse my phone when I see the no signal notification and cautiously put it back in my rhinestone bag. I adjust my leather jacket and wrap my arms around myself.

"Fucking hell, Libby," I mutter to myself as I muster courage to make it though the crowd so I can eventually get out of it.

I brush my locks back and wipe the sweat building at my nape.

I reach a less congested place and stand by a pillar next to a building. I observe the people in their old timey clothes and costumes, not a single other person dressed in modern clothing. I figure it was cause it was pretty late and they must be closing up their booths any time now.

I tug the collar of my silver halter top and turn to the side. Immediately, I spot a butch man, clad in armor and a cloak. I stare at him for a moment and think, wow, that's a really good costume. I find myself deciding he was pretty good looking too. I instantly look away when he catches me starting.

I clear my throat, wrapping my arms around myself. My jacket tightens around my arms. I clutch my bag in my chest again.

Wait, if he's dressed like that, does that mean he's, like, a guard or something? Maybe I can ask for his help to look for Libby.

I clear my throat and steal a look again, and to my horror, the man is making his way towards me.

In my panic, I shift and face the opposite direction. My flight response kicks in, but before I could bolt, he comes to my side and speaks.

"Speak your name and business, stranger."

I pull my head back and look to the man. He stares at me as brush my bangs away from my face. Why's he coming off so strong, "what?"

The man looks at me through his stupid helmet and furrows his brows, "speak your name and business," says he, rather threateningly.

Hold on. Is he for real? If this was supposed to be part of his weird-ass dialogue for his roleplay thing-- or, heaven forbid, a pickup line, dear gods, it was not about to work on me.

My initial response was to be extremely hostile, but after taking a deep breath I decide against it. I hit him with an uno reverse as raise a brow, "what's your name and business, soldier?"

His dark brow quirks at that. He says nothing for a moment.

His over-the-top golden cloak flows back, as does my platinum hair when a gush of wind blows. I make a face when I catch a whiff of something rank. I rub my nose and push my curls back behind my ear. I re-pin one of my golden clips to keep my tresses in place.

The solider shifts in his spot. "I am not a solider--" ok, not a soldier, "I am an officer of the city watch," he shakes his head, "Ser Harwin Strong," he raises his nose, "and my business is your business."

I pull my head back. My jaw slacks.

I clear my throat.

Why he kinda-

I sniffle, very much not at all expecting that response. Well, I guess maybe his pickup line kinda works... And well, I mean, he kinda cute so-

I tell him my name and then tell him I lost my friend after a round of dare or die and now I'm looking for her.

"Dare or die," he repeats rather seriously.

I shrug and shake my head, "it's just a stupid game."

He hums, "and your friend, she is as... strangely dressed as you?"

I raise a brow again, tightening my crossed arms, "says the man in armor and a gold cape."

Harwin makes a face.

I chuckle softly. Not expecting that, were ya?

I huff. Ok, my bad. I know these renaissance people really get into it, and, yeah, I mean, he was right. I was in a glittery silver halter top, hot pink bellbottoms and gogo boots with a leather jacket and a bedazzled clutch. I was an LSD trip. He had his schtick and I had mine.

"Yeah, no, eh," I look around, "she's in black skinny jeans and a fuchsia, like, off-shoulder situation. It's pretty hard to miss her, which is why I have no idea why I can't find her anywhere."

"Off shoulder?"

I turn to him as he mutters this.

I give him a look then motion, "yeah... like, it's cropped here," I move my hand by my shoulders, "and it has ruffles and-- OH! Also she has blue hair!" I raise a finger, "it's really, really hard to miss her."

Harwin looks at me like I just told him my friend was secretly Hannah Montana.

I am about to respond when suddenly we snap to the side as someone calls out, "Lord Strong." A man in a grey cloak nods at Harwin and turns to me, "you're looking for someone, yes?"

I blink at the man with a hood, trying to get a better look of his shadowy face. Immediate no.

I slowly nod though after he stares too long. I don't like the fact I can't make out his face.

Hood man tilts his head and walks off.

I stand still in my spot as he makes his way down an alley.

What the fuck was that? Tsch. Am I a dog? Did he honestly think I'd suddenly follow him just cause he tilted his head to the side?

I turn to Harwin and with a sour look. He looks back at me and tilts his head to the side. Not him too!

I huff in disbelief, "you want me to follow him?"

Harwin makes a face, "it would be wise if you do."

"Why?! What, is he-- does he work here?"

"In the marketplace," he looks around and shakes his head, "no."

I think for a second. I huff, "is he one of those people that do the lost and found things. Can he help-"

"OI!" a voice cuts me off. We turn to the side again and hood man is back. He quips, "do you want to find your friend or not?!"

Well why didn't he just say so?

I nod and shrug simultaneously, finding myself following after him this time around. The things I do for love. I mean, it's a renaissance fair! They... they're just a bunch of weird nerd guys that have never felt the touch of a woman.

I gulp. Okay, maybe not the soundest explanation as to why I think I won't get kidnapped.

For someone who wants to be followed, he sure moved like he wanted to lose me. I jog up behind him and grab his arm, "slow down! I've been on my feet for hours."

He slows then stops. He looks at the arm I was clutching.

I release a sigh, "do you have a name, manager?"

He turns from his arm to me with a scowl, "what?"

He pulls away just as I release him. I clarify, "do you work at, like, HR?"

He stares at me for a moment. I stare back, vaguely seeing his face from the shadow of his hood. He somehow looks familiar, like... like a less hot version of Matt Smith. He turns front and walks off again, "and what would HR be?"

I huff and follow after him. The whole in-character thing was really getting on my nerves. I rack my brain for what HR's equivalent would be in this day and age. I shake my head, "I don't know... public servitude? Public Relations? Okay, no, that's PR-"

Hood man eyes me, "PR..."

I slow my pace as I think. He rolls his eyes and grabs me by the wrist, dragging me as he takes us off to wherever it was we were headed.

"Good government?" I said questioningly.

He snorts, "good governance, you say?"

I look up at him and find a small smirk on his lips, "well, actually, I said-"

He mutters, "I am certainly not one of those."

"... okay... ... Mr. Edgelord."

He shoots me a look but does not respond.

He takes me to a dark backstreet and for some reason, I didn't think it strange up until we entered. The place, I kid you not, was a brothel. From the moment we stepped in, there were people making out and getting way further than second base in front of my very pure, unwilling eyes.

This was it, wasn't it? Would it be in bad taste to say at least I died in a cute outfit? No, wait, you're right. It would be in great taste. Purr.

Immediately, my hand goes to my eyes and I choke out a squeak, "oh dear fuck, is this legal?!"

Hood man turns to me and stops for a moment. He drags me again, "are pleasures illegal where you're from?"

I peak through my fingers, finding that we were headed for a flight of stairs. "For fucks sake, this is the dangerous type of pleasures, sir," I struggle as I try to keep my eyes closed and opened all at once.

"How dull," he looks over to me once as we go up the stairs, "danger is a form of respite."

I make a face, "yeah well-" I gasp when I nearly miss a step. Hood man yanks me up so that I don't fall. I sheepishly look up at him and was about to thank him, up until I see a bunch of dudes going at it on the second floor. I cringe, continuing my train of thought, "--tell that to STDs."

"STD..." he mutters under his breath.

Hood man takes us to a room that is empty, save for a woman with long dark hair. She looks at us as we enter, then turns to our joined hands. Upon catching this, I pull my hand away.

Hood man turns to me then to her, "show her the girl."

The dark haired woman side steps and immediately I gasp, "Libby!"

I run up to the low bed she was laid upon. I brush her damp bangs back and she immediately groans.

"Your friend was drunk and nearly attacked by some men," the woman explained, "they backed off when I told them she was one of mine."

"Homaygosh," I look over my shoulder and pant, "I- thank you for helping her."

Her expression softens a fraction. She mentally notes the reaction.

I look back to Libby and adjust her pink top. "She's a ditzy drunk," I sigh, brushing her damn awful blue hair, "which was why I followed after her. I didn't expect her to come this far."

"Far you say. Where are you from?" the man asks.

"We came from the party in the old castle ruins."

"Party?" she says just as he says, "ruins?"

I turn to them and stand, "yeah, the old castle up the cliff," I point to nowhere. I look between them and huff when they look at me wordlessly.

The woman turns to hood man. They speak to each other telepathically it seems.

I release a breath, "okay. I get it. You guys are into roleplay. It was a-- celebration dance... event."

They turn back to me.

"Thank you again for helping her," I turn to Libby, back to the woman, "what were your names?"

I offer a smile to hood man as I introduce myself.

He does not offer me the same courtesy.

Hmp.

The woman places her hands in front of her, "I am Mysaria," she says and I smile at her. She smiles back then turns to him. We both look at him for a hot second.

Hood man does not respond.

"Okay then..." I shift awkwardly in my spot, "well, thank you, Mysaria and... sir...."

"What house do you belong to?" he utters.

"What," I pull my head back, "house?"

He does not clarify but looks at me expectantly.

I make a face and think for a moment. What does he mean? I am hit by a sudden realization. But surely he doesn't mean this? "Uhm... ... ... Gryffindor?"

"Gryffindor?" his face contorts in thought.

I nod slowly, "that is what you mean, right?"

Mysaria crosses her arms, "where does house Gryffindor hail?"

What?

My eyes pinch in confusion. I raise a finger, "like... which part of Hogwarts do they stay?" What the- "I don't know! This is entirely too nerdy for me to understand. Also, I was never really a potterhead."

"Potter head?" hood guy asks.

I roll my eyes and sigh, "okay," I wave my hands, "since we've already broken the forth wall and you've broken characters-"

"Characters-" he mutters.

"-can I borrow a phone? Mine says no service," I lean towards Libby and begin to shake her awake, "or if any of you are heading back to the city, can we just hitch a ride?"

Libby groans as I shake her.

I hiss, "girl, get your ass up."

The man scoffs then chuckles. He walks over to me, "girl, I think you are sorely mistaken."

I straighten up and involuntarily squeak when I find him right next to me. He is so close that I finally see the color of his eyes, even though the room was quite dim.

"OCA4," I blabber.

He knits his blonde brows, "what?"

I step back, cursing myself for remembering that stupid fact from grade 6 biology, "you- you have violet eyes," I gulp, "it's a recessive trait."

The man blankly stares at me for a second.

Great. I've really done it now.

He narrows his eyes then looks me once over. "Issi ao doru-borto?" he mutters. Are you stupid?

"Hey!" I raise a brow, "I am not."

His expression slips. He is evidently shocked, "you know High Valyrian?"

Mysaria's eyes widen.

I place a hand on my hip, "I'll have you know, I took High Valyrian as an elective, but everyone knows what doru-borto is."

I turn back to shake Libby again, but instead, I am snagged by the arm. Hood man yanks me towards him and mutters, "gūrogon nyke naejot se pryjata."

I twitch as alarms go off in my head. Instead of shaking him off though, my mind buffers at the barely recognizable words. I try to make sense of it and slowly translate, "take me... ?"

He tilts his head and completes it, "take me to the ruins."

I pull my head and arm back. He does not release me. I clench my jaw at this. I huff, "you can't miss it. Just go up th-"

"I want you to take me there."

I begin to get increasingly agitated, defensive, and tired, "look, sir," I place my hand on his iron grip and push him off me, "I really appreciate your help, but we should get goi-"

"You will not go anywhere with your companion unless you take me to the ruins which you speak."

I freeze at his words. I stare at him, taking in his stoic expression. His look was as serious as explosive diarrhea. I feel my entire body flush with dread. I look to Mysaria for help, but it was instantly clear by her expression that if there were sides, she was on his.

I shudder and pull the hand I had atop his, finding no point in trying to free myself from his clutch, "so what?"

His brows furrow. A challenge?

"I take you there," I word carefully, "and then I come back, and you let us go?"

He takes in my expression. He scans my hair as it slips from my shoulder. He looks at the golden pins by the top of my head then releases me. I rub my arm as he brings his hands in front of him. He shifts on his leg.

I clench my jaw, "well?"

"So be it," he retorts.

"So be it?" I scoff, "swear it."

He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. His lips curve slightly, "what?"

"I need to hear you say you will not harm her," I add, turning to Mysaria as I say this, "please."

Mysaria's face softens though she knits her brows. Hood man laughs and it makes me glare at him. Mysaria looks to the man as he says, "I swear."

"On your life," I quip mindlessly with an air of fake confidence though my heart was pounding. I was well aware that if he intended to do us ill, no amount of words would save us. Still, it was good to hear it.

In all honesty, I am surprised when he retorts with, "on my life and my honor."

I find myself shaking my head, "okay then."

"OK..." he repeats slowly.

I do as he says, since I don't really have much of a choice.

I lead the man, or rather he leads me out of the grimy establishment (my poor eyes), and then I lead him up to the ruins.

The walk is silent, as I am no longer keen on fostering any type of relationship with him.

He stays a few paces behind me but I can very much feel his lingering presence.

As I do my best to retrace my steps, I slower each passing 'landmark', or lack thereof. We pass a church that was way smaller in my memory, and the large oak tree I was looking for was nonexistent.

Eventually, I come to terms with the fact I was lost and just try my best not to show it as I navigate the landscape through instinct.

When I was about to fess up, I glanced upon a building I knew for sure had scaffolding when I passed it earlier today. See, aint no way they finished the renovations that quickly.

I pick up the pace, following the directions I remember taking and my breath hitches. My jaw drops and my eyes widen at the sight of the full blown fortress before me. What the fuck.

I let out a breath to calm myself but I can no longer mask my panic.

"Who are you really?" hood man mutters.

I snap to my side and clutch my chest as the man steps closer. He pulls me toward him by ripping at my dangling purse. I helplessly topple forward.

"Are you a dreamer?" he reaches out to my face and brushes my silver hair back, "emagon ao rēbās rȳ jēda?" Have you walked through time?

I pull away from him and swat his hand off, "don't touch me!"

He recoils as I glare at him and catch my breath. He pushes his hood down, revealing his face and long, alabaster hair tucked behind his cloak, "and why wouldn't I? Blood of my blood."

What? I pull my head back and wrap my arms around me as I step away. This man is insane.

"Ēza iā nādrēsy hen ñuha lentor issare āzma isse Gryffindor?" Has a bastard of my house been born in Gryffindor.

My body flinches when bells begin to toll.

He takes my panic to his advantage. He grabs me by my arms and forces me close. My boots skid as I come to an abrupt halt. My hands dart to his chest, "I-I don't know what you're saying."

He presses closer to me, uncaring of how my palms repel against him. The bells ringing put me further on edge.

"Where were you born, little dove?" he mumbles softly but I find malice in it.

I feel my eyes begin to water as my breath strains. I don't know why he asks me this, and I don't know why I answer, "K-King's Landing."

He lets out a deep chuckle and nods, "how many years after the Conquest?"

"What?" I shake my head, "why do I have to-"

"Kesrio syt aōha dārilaros epagon." Because your prince asks.

"Dārilaros?" I mutter lowly.

The bells stop ringing. Suddenly, I remember that stupid urban legend about the castle arch. Wait. I look at the man's face and risk looking over to my shoulder. As I turn my head, I see the locked gate with the same motif of the arch I went through as I chased after Libby when she was dared to go through the stupid thing.

I chuckle manically. No. NO. That's fucking insane. Realistically speaking, portals that open at midnight are not real! It's stupid! Nonsensical!

And also, yeah, if people say the ruins has an arch that'll take you back two thousand years, maybe don't go through it. I mean I didn't! I- I was following Libby! I-

He hums and nods, "kessa, dōna run, iksan aōha dārilaros," he brushes my hair back. Yes, sweet thing, I am your prince.

My eyes widen. Is he being for real? Be so fucking for real right now.

I open my mouth but I do not respond. Suddenly, it's like I'm back in high school, giggling with my seatmate over the pictures of the Rogue Prince. What the fuck.

He takes in my expression and smirks.

"D-Daemon?"

He howls in laughter, "very good-"

"What the fuck?!"

"-you know me even where you're from," he smirks.

"You're a really good cosplayer!" I wrangle out of his grip, "and this- this is a really elaborate set!"

Daemon the cosplayer lets me break away and I wipe my face as I snap some sense to myself, "I must be dreaming-"

"Mmm, a flattering thought," he laughs

"-I'm fucking roofied!"

"But, I assure you, I am very real."

I shudder as I pant and pace around. This can't be real. I look up to the wall. But this fucking castle is so fucking real. I grunt and walk over to it. I hiss and pull my hand back when I touch the stone; it was as if it burned me.

No. No. No! This is a renaissance fair! A- a medieval cosplay event! A fucking- a fucking-

"Gīda ilagon," he mutters, grabbing arm.

I turn to him as I brush my hair back in frustration. I whimper, "what?"

"Calm down," he strokes my arm, looking at the clip that slipped off my head, "I will not harm you."

I raise my brows at his words.

"After all," he grabs my clip and readjusts it in my hair, "what kind of forbearer would I be if I harmed my sweet little girl?"

I hang like a pirated CD, "I beg your pardon?"

He chuckles, stroking my cheek.

I feel an immense heat crawl up my face in realization, "y-you think--" I'm a Targaryen?!

Aint no fucking way.

I laugh nervously, "right."

That's why he's been helping me?!

"I must say, I am happy to know the princess lives in excess," he brings his hands to the collar of jacket and pushes it away. He takes in the glitter of my halter top and smiles when finds the skin of my shoulders, "very good."

I shriek and shove him off.

He chuckles as he recoils, raising his hands in surrender.

I wrap my arms around myself as he takes in the rest of my outfit. Oh my gosh, man doesn't know about plastic.

When his eyes dart back to my face, I realize he must think my golden clips were actual gold. I mean, thank you?

"I took you to the place," I quickly sputter, "I'm going back and leaving with Libby now."

He gives a lopsided grin, "I see no ruins before me, princess."

I shiver. I'm in danger.

Suddenly, I think about how Daemon was said to be misunderstood, that most of the things he did, historically, were out of love. He wasn't actually a bad person-

"You said you weren't going to hurt me," I mutter.

"No," he chuckles, "what I want to do to you doesn't have to hurt."

My eyes widen. I raise my hands, "Prince Daemon, please-"

"All in good time," he smirks and undoes the ties of his cloak by his collar.

My heart races, "no- please-"

"Shhh," he shakes his head and throws his cloak over my shoulders, "on my life and my honor," he ties the string around my neck, "no one shall touch a hair on your head," he smirks, "none but I."