#deadly nail polish

[tianhai03]

is everyone ready to go to bingo yet ⁉️

(bonus sunglasses addition below bc i thought it'd be funny. oh and also there's a timelapse too)

guys look. it's the cooler leon

timelapse where you can see me struggle to paint him <3

[m4g0rtz]

Today's polish is another perfect winter shade. If Lake Superior Shenanigans is freshly fallen snow, this polish is snow that's been in the sun for a while and the top layer has melted and refrozen creating a web of ice crystals that catch the sun. I LOVES the way this looked in direct sunlight. The crushed holo was so twinkly and the blue shimmer made it glowy even in the shade. This is Sloth from Bee's Knees Lacquer.

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 5

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: This definitely should've been two parts...

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, trauma from under the mountain, alcohol, SA, blood, Rhys is sweet but oblivious, autumn court men are pigs, SMUT (mwhahaha),

Word Count: 9,218 (I don't wanna talk about it)

For about the hundredth time that evening I had given myself the once over. The afternoon had been spent with handmaidens all over me, styling my hair, lining my eyes in kohl, polishing my nails in Autumn Court red, shining the diamond necklace given to me by Eris, and making sure I lived up to my name. 

I was surprised by how simple the dress was that was chosen for me. The handmaidens said they wanted to let my natural beauty show, as well as my new collar, I mean necklace. I ran my hands over the large, freshly polished gems. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get used to the weight of it. 

I made my way to the foyer where I knew my brother and his Inner Circle would be waiting. Anxiety filled my chest. Tonight I would be dancing and mingling with hundreds of people, but I only cared about one. The man Azriel was currently nudging with his elbow to get him to turn around. 

Cassian was lethal in fighting leathers and he was deadly in his most casual clothes, but the jacket and pants he wore tonight? It was a miracle I was still standing upright. 

His eyes shot to me and his mouth parted slightly, sucking in a breath. Those eyes, those hazel eyes, how they burned a hole right through my soul. Right through the gown and the jewels and straight into the heart of me. Cassian looked at me the way every female dreamed of being looked at. 

“You look amazing sister,” Rhysand said, pulling my attention from Cassian. 

I turned to where my brother stood with Mor, who was clad in her usual jaw dropping red. I hadn’t seen my brother in so long. With the war getting closer and things with Eris getting more intense I hadn’t seen him since that initial day at the Autumn Court four weeks ago. While I missed his face, it reminded me of the sacrifices he made for me, and reminded me why marrying Eris was so important. 

“You clean up pretty good too, Rhys,” I smiled, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“I have something for you,” Rhys grinned, waving a hand in the air to pull a dazzling tiara seemingly from mid air. “I went into the vaults and grabbed this. It was mother’s, and I thought you might like to wear it.” 

The tiara was beautiful and the moment it appeared in his hand I recognized it. It was one of our mothers favorites, made to look like a crown of shooting stars flying across her head like a halo. I had forgotten how magnificently she used to dress everyday. 

“Oh Rhys,”  I cried, throwing my arms around him while tears welled up in my eyes. 

“I know, I miss her too,” he murmured into my shoulder. 

“Help me put it on?” I ask him, pulling away and wiping my tears. 

“Of course,” he smiled with his own eyes glassed over. He bent down slightly to place the tiara on my head before standing back to admire it. “She would’ve been so proud of you.” 

“I think she would’ve been proud of both of us,” I beam at him, rubbing circles over the tops of his hands. “Now enough with the nostalgia, I’m going to cry off all my makeup. Let’s go party.” I laugh off my tears. 

“Yeah c’mon Rhys you’re going to make us all sad drunks,” Mor said, clasping her hand in Cassian’s and winnowing them out. 

Rhys held my fingers tight as he winnowed us along with her and Azriel was moments behind us. The second that the smell of damp leaves and woodsmoke filled my senses I felt a shudder run down my spine. I told myself that tonight with Eris would be different, but if the last time he had too much wine was any indication of how this evening would go…

The ballroom was filled with members of every court as my brother led me into the large space,  Cassian’s looming presence flanking my right side. It was impressive to see all the different types, colors and textures of clothing. It would make a lovely and chaotic painting if anyone ever had the will to commission it. Of course, Night Court black stood out like a sore thumb, but I certainly didn’t mind. It’s not like my brother and I weren’t the center of attention everywhere we went anyways. I looked to Rhys to find his eyes rapidly scanning the sea of people and I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.   

“She isn’t here brother,” I said quietly into his ear. 

“Who isn’t here?” he asked, trying to play the fool. 

“The cursebreaker you’ve been searching the crowd for,” I laugh. “I asked Eris if she would be in attendance and he said that Tamlin and her had not replied to his invitation.” 

“You asked Eris for me?” Rhys said, finally turning his head to me in surprise. 

“Well I didn’t tell him why I wanted to know whether or not they were attending. I just asked casually. I secretly hoped you’d get to see her,” I smiled. 

“You’re a wonderful little sister, you know that?” Rhys smiled, pressing a kiss to my cheek. 

“Yeah yeah you big softie,” I laughed, nudging his shoulder. From the corner of my eye I could see Eris making his way through the crowd with two glasses of wine in hand. 

“Rhysand, princess, we’re overjoyed that you could make it.” Eris smiled that conniving smile. “For you my little flame,” he said, handing me a goblet of wine and pressing a quick kiss to my lips.  

“We’re happy to have been invited,” Rhysand smiles and I swear I hear two females faint somewhere in the room. 

“Walk with me darling?” Eris says, extending an arm to me. I take it but not before glancing to my right once to see the worry in Cassian’s eyes.

As we pace around the border of the room I see why Eris chose to promenade first and dance later. It felt like every single eye in the room followed the same pattern. First they widened at the sight of me, then they flicked over to Eris, down to our linked arms and finally back to me once again. Their stares were stifling, I hadn’t been around this many people since under the mountain. 

Eris didn’t want to promenade first to finish our drinks, oh no. He wanted everyone in this godsforsaken room to see that the Jewel belonged to him. The smirk on his face was a dead give away. 

“You look ravishing tonight little flame,” Eris whispered into my ear, his breath hot in my neck. “That's why they’re all staring.”

“Don’t worry I’m used to the staring,” I replied truthfully trying to avoid all the eyes on me. 

“I’m sure you are,” he chuckled. “Stay used to it pet, I have every intention of parading you around all night. Let them stare all they want. It’s only a problem if they touch.” 

His words sent ice through my veins. It didn’t matter how many cruel or shocking things Eris said to me. Each and every time they cut like knives, taking a little piece of me with them that I would never get back. 

“Is that the Jewel?” crooned a too familiar voice. I turned my head to find Helion standing in all his glory, a friendly smile plastered on his face. 

“Helion!” I smiled, embracing him warmly. It had been too long since I felt the warmth of my friend's gaze. 

“My dear you look exquisite as always,” he smiled, twirling me around so he could see all of me. “Your brother keeps you on too short a leash, I haven’t seen you since, well, since we were under the mountain.” 

Eris’ body tightened next to me as he slid a hand possessively around the small of my waist, pulling me into his side, “Indeed, Helion, but rest assured, she's in good hands now. And her leash is exactly where it needs to be.” His words carried a veiled threat. 

“That’s right,” Helion smiled, ever the charmer.  “I heard that Rhysand had finally given her away. Congratulations to the both of you.” 

“Oh we aren’t engaged yet, just courting.” I smile nervously, placing my hand on Eris' chest in an attempt to keep him from blowing his top off. 

“Yes just courting, for now,” he smirked, nuzzling my neck. 

My body might’ve been wrapped around Eris like a lovesick fool, but I let my eyes convey the truth to my friend. Helion looked at me with a sad remorse and I knew then and there that he had put the pieces together. 

“I’ll leave you two love birds be,” he said trying to hide his disdain. “I think I hear Thessan calling me.”

We bid our goodbyes and I slammed what was left of my wine and placed it on the side table of the chaise next to us. 

“I didn’t think I’d have to share tonight,” Eris rolled his eyes, continuing our walk around the perimeter. 

“You can’t court the Jewel and get upset that everyone else wants to as well,” I scoff at his insolence. 

“I am going to be High Lord, I can do whatever I want,” Eris seethes, stopping our stride and pulling my arm towards him so that I slam into his chest. 

“Eris stop you’re making a scene,” I say tightly trying to pull my wrist from his grasp. 

“Good, that's exactly what I want – to cause a scene. Let them look,” he growls, hurling his lips towards mine. His kiss is anything but polite and High Lord-ly and from the strong taste of wine and whiskey on his lips I underestimated how drunk he already was. Behind me I could faintly hear gasps of the people around us, no doubt bearing witness to the very public display of power he was putting on.  

He pulls his lips from mine and stares at me with a predatory gaze and as both our chests heave, “Now that’s better,” he smirks. 

I resist the urge to wipe my mouth off as I pluck another glass of wine from a silver tray and down it. Gods this night was just getting started and it already couldn’t get any worse. 

“I want to dance,” I say abruptly to Eris. If we dance there’s a chance that someone might cut in and save me for at least a minute or two. 

“Fine, let’s go.” Eris grumbles downing his wine as well. 

He leads me out onto the dance floor and the crowd of dancers parts for us.  For what specific reason? I can’t name why. Maybe it’s to get a good look at me, or maybe it’s because Eris is truly that terrifying. Either way I can’t help but feel like I’ve been placed in a glass box and suspended where the crystal chandelier is in the middle of the room. 

Eris leads me into a dance and I don’t miss how tight his grip is on my waist, practically warning off anyone who might try and whisk me away from him. There goes that wonderful plan. 

“You’re a wonderful dancer,” Eris complimented me and I noticed him trying to seem more sober. 

“Thank you, my father taught me when I was a little girl,” I replied looking around the room. 

From the second I had stepped onto the floor I could feel that searing gaze that took me apart bit by bit following me throughout my waltz. Finally I saw Cassian at the edge of the room with Azriel. Both of them leaning against the edge of the wall, wings tight on their bodies to keep people from brushing into them. Azriel whispered something into Cassian’s ear that had him downing his drink. 

“I wish you could see the looks of envy around the room,” Eris said low into my ear, his voice carrying an undertone of possessiveness. “Envy of what I have. Envy of what they'll never possess. You've been this mythical thing for so long, and now you're utterly tangible, and more importantly, you're mine.”

“I’m not yours yet, Eris. You would do well to remember that.” I utter to him trying my best to keep my voice even. 

Before he can even have a chance to lash out at me, a throat clears next to us halting our movements. I turn my gaze from Eris' fiery gaze and find Cassian standing before us and I curse my heart from nearly leaping out of my chest at the way he’s staring Eris down, like he heard every word he said. 

“Princess, would you honor me with a dance?” Cassian said, his usual tone of confidence laced with uncertainty. 

“I would love to Cassian,” I smile, feeling my cheeks blush.

“Over my dead body would she dance with the likes of you,” Eris simmers, pulling me closer to him. His grip on my arm was like a brand. 

“No, you don’t get to speak for her,” Cassian growls, grasping the hand Eris has on me.

“Eris this isn’t very High Lord-ish behavior,” I grumbled under my breath feeling even more eyes find our little disagreement. 

“He’s a bastard pet, he would soil you.” Eris replies, trying his best to show his restraint as he and Cassian engage in the biggest staredown this court has ever seen. 

“Yes, a bastard with nothing to lose and a dance with the Jewel to gain. Remember what I said about that arm Prince Eris? It would be a pity if you couldn’t hunt next season,” Cassain said back, his words a not so veiled threat. 

“One dance,” Eris chides. “Then I want her returned to me.” He dips a hand under my chin to place a kiss on  my lips, no doubt trying to antagonize Cassian further. 

If Cassian is provoked by the gesture he doesn’t show it. He simply sweeps me up into a dance the second the next song starts. His arms around me contrast the feeling of Eris so well. They’re warm and strong compared to Eris, who has a touch so cold it could freeze over hell. I take a deep breath to ground myself, Cassian’s scent of cedar and leather fills my senses and puts me at ease. 

“I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble,” he said and I could tell he meant it. He probably assumed that Eris would behave more accordingly in such a public setting. 

“No you actually saved me,” I laughed, falling easily into step with him. 

“You look beautiful tonight, I don’t think I got a chance to tell you that earlier,” Cassian said tightly, like the words might hurt him. The tension in the air following what happened with Eris still thick.  

“No I don’t think you did,” I replied and mentally cursed myself at how dumb it sounded. I get compliments all the time, and I always respond with grace and poise like I was taught. But something about Cassian takes away every piece of training away from me, for a moment I’m just a regular person. 

“Then I’m a fool and I should’ve said it sooner,” he replied, spinning me out and pulling me back in. I was surprised by how well he moved on the dance floor. 

“I didn’t know you could dance,” I smile and his eyes that were previously on his feet now meet mine. 

“I can’t. I had Mor teach me this one so I could dance with you at least once tonight. That’s why I’ve been so short with you, I’m counting my steps,” Cassian laughs, blush tinting his cheeks. “Once this song is over Az is going to cut in so I don’t have to face the embarrassment of trying to dance to whatever they play next.”

It takes me a minute to process all that he’s said, and as I’m trying to read his face to see if he’s telling the truth or not I can see his lips twitching as he counts his steps in his head. A smile breaks across my lips and I can’t help but laugh. 

“Oh Cassian,” I giggle, pressing my forehead into his shoulder. His arms immediately pull me close and I relish the feeling. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me before. Thank you.” 

“Of course, anything for you princess,” he smiles and for a moment I’m transported back into that dark hallway. I suddenly become all too aware of our joined hands, his hand on my waist flexing like he’s scared to have it there. 

“You’re actually a really wonderful dancer,” I laugh trying to keep myself from throwing myself at him. 

Cassian’s mouth turns up to the side as his eyes burn into mine, “one, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.” he counts. I let out another laugh as we continue to spin around the room, he even throws in a lift every now and then when he forgets the steps. 

The song is over all too soon and within seconds of the last note being played Azriel steps in with a gracious bow. 

“Princess,” the shadowsinger greets me.

“Azriel,” I curtsey. 

“Thanks brother,” Cassian smiles, clapping Azriel on the back before heading out.

“Don’t mention it,” Az nods, taking me in his arms and beginning to waltz me around. “Did he tell you?” 

“Yes he did,” I laugh remembering the blush that covered his cheeks when he did. Never in my life did I think I would see my general, The Lord of Bloodshed, blush. “Have you been practicing with Mor too?” I raise an eyebrow. 

“No actually,” Azriel says, spinning me around in a circle. “Dancing has always come quite naturally to me.”

“Well I’d even dare to say that you’re a better dance partner than Eris,” I smile as Azriel dips me with the grace that only a warrior could possess. 

“Speaking of Eris, I saw what happened. Are you okay?” Azriel asks quietly, pulling me closer so that no one can hear us. 

“As okay as I can be. Gods everything about this room is stifling.” I roll my eyes. 

“Would you like to get some air outside?” he asks me and I nod. 

Azriel leads me out to the terrace at the back of the ballroom. When we get there I expect to see at least one couple sticking their tongues down each other's throats. But when the chill night air hits my bare skin it’s easy to see why we’re the only ones out here. I lean my back against the railing as Azriel closes the wooden doors behind us, the sound of the symphony and chattering people becoming muffled. 

Az pulls a corked bottle of wine out from behind his back with a cheeky grin, “You looked like you might need this.” he says pulling out the cork with a pop.  

“You’re a literal savior Az,” I smile, taking the bottle from him and putting it to my lips. It was the same wine I complimented Beron on and it slid down all too easy.  

Azriel leans against the banister with me as we look out over the Autumn Court. Darkness envelops the land  so that the only thing to be seen are a few fae lights and of course, the stars. I smile at the sky for a moment. No matter where I go or whom I marry, night will always follow me, and there’s a comfort there. 

“So you’re really going through with this?” Azriel croons, his voice laced only with curiosity. 

“I am,” I nod, swigging from the bottle again. “Eris is a viper, but he has something we need. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my people and my family safe.” 

“You deserve to marry for love y/n. You deserve to be happy too. You think that Rhys is the only one who made sacrifices for you and our court but you went under that mountain too.” he points out using that big brother tone he loves to use so much. 

“Saving my court will make me happy.” 

“But is marrying Eris what you truly want?” he asks honestly, trying to get to the root of things. So I let him have it.

“Gods no Az. Look at me. Eris has already made me his little pet with this ridiculous necklace. I  don’t think I could ever love Eris or be truly happy with him. But he’s been very clear about me bearing him many children, maybe I’ll find my happiness in them,” I rant, chugging more wine trying to drown out the sound of the voices in my head. 

“What about Cassian?” Azriel asks and my heart nearly stops. I don’t even let myself breathe for a moment. 

“What about him, Azriel?” I sigh, turning around and pressing my back to the bannister so that I could see the wooden doors that lead back to the viper den of aristocrats.   

“You obviously have feelings for him,” Azriel scoffs like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

“What makes you say that?” I laugh. Azriel is dangerously close to covering the truth, one I haven’t had the guts to admit to myself. Because saying the words out loud? They would crumble the very foundations I stand upon, and then what would be left? 

“Because I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“And how do I look at him? Huh?” I try to keep the fierce facade. 

“You look at him the same way every man, woman, and child looks at you.” Azriel blurts out, his voice laced with frustration. “Hell even I used to look at you that way till I realized I couldn’t hold a candle to the way you look at Cassian.” 

I crumble. Every thought I have falls apart at Azriel making such a statement because I know it’s true. But to acknowledge it, or even worse, to act on it? How selfish of a person would that make me? To turn my back on my brother who saved me under the mountain. To possibly deny him the chance to be with his mate, the cursebreaker, because he dies in battle. To risk Azriel’s life because he has to be on the front lines. To risk the lives of every man, woman and child in my court. 

I had thought about it, gods I had. Especially at night, when I woke from my nightmares of being under the mountain. Or when I dreamt of that small female puppy in Eris’ kennels. It would’ve been so easy for me to walk into Cassian’s room just one door down and ask him to hold me. Oh gods I wanted him to hold me. But it couldn’t be and that killed me. 

“You’re bold shadowsinger,” I gritted my teeth, sipping the last of the wine. “I’ll give you that. But if you’ll excuse me, Eris is probably looking for me.”  

I shove the empty bottle of wine into his chest and thrust open the doors. I hear him call out for me clearly feeling bad about what he had said, but I don’t turn back. Tears prick my cheeks and I know that if I face Azriel once more and show him the truth I’ll fall apart completely. 

My eyes scan the crowd for Eris, and admittedly Cassain. The latter is nowhere to be seen, but eventually I find Eris lounging on a chaise with a few of his friends, all of them clad in Autumn Court attire laughing boisterously. I walk over to him dodging everyone in front of me, wine clouding my mind. 

“There she is,” Eris slurs, the wine from 4his glass nearly spilling out as he sits it on an end table. “Come here my pet,” he smirks, pulling me down to sit on his lap. 

I grab the wine he set down and sip from it as I take in the men around us. At first glance I can tell they are all pompous assholes by the way they rake their gaze down my body. One even has the nerve to cock his eyebrow at me and my head turns to Eris to avoid his gaze.  

“Isn’t she exquisite gentlemen?” Eris asks, nuzzling my neck. 

A collective murmur of agreement falls upon the small group.

 “The Jewel of Prythian,” Eris says, kissing my neck and I try to squirm out of his grasp but he only pulls me closer to him. 

“I’ll say!” one of the men cheer causing the whole group to chuckle. 

Eris’ mouth falls from my neck to my collar bone, “Have I told you yet tonight that this corset is doing wonders for your perfect tits pet?” he murmurs licking a long stripe up the side of my neck earning a round of tantalizing ‘ohhhs’ from his friends. At this rate I’m surprised they all haven’t whipped their cocks to enjoy the show Eris was so happily putting on. 

“He’s not wrong,” says another man and I feel Eris smirk against the tops of my breasts. He’s enjoying the game of dangling me in front of his friends. A forbidden fruit only he can indulge in. 

“I wonder how many males have fucked those tits,” crooned another bringing laughter to the forefront once more. 

Eris laughs, “She’s completely untouched,” he smirks into my skin. “I’ll be the first.”

The men utter how impressed they are. Some mention how jealous they are. My heart rate quickens knowing that I couldn’t have walked into a worse situation.

“Eris,” I hiss quietly, my eyes scanning the room for Cassian but he’s nowhere to be seen still. I even look for Azriel or my brother, but the room is so packed full of people I can’t make anyone out. 

“You know I was thinking about what you said earlier,” Eris croons and I know that tone, the one that means something terrible is about to happen. “When you said I don’t own you yet?” 

“Eris stop you’re drunk,” I say low as I try to wiggle out of his grasp but it only instigates him more. 

“Well the idea that you weren’t truly mine yet based on a technicality didn’t sit right with me little flame,” he started, blatantly ignoring my protests. “So while I let you dance with your filthy dog I ran downstairs to the vault.” 

No, no, no, no. This isn’t happening. 

“And I grabbed this,” he says, pulling out a ring so large I was surprised he was able to keep it hidden. Eris grabbed my left hand with unnecessary force and slid the thing on my ring finger. The weight of it nearly made me hurl. “Now you are mine. I’ve lived up to my end of the bargain, it’s been a month of courting and I’ve decided you will make a very obedient and agreeable wife.” 

“And don’t forget fuckable!” the first man who spoke cheered. 

“Yes, I’ll enjoy ruining you, my pet,” Eris smirks, kissing me softly. 

“Hell yeah we need an heir!” 

These men know no morals, no shame, no compassion. If my brother heard a fraction of what they were saying…Yes, my brother. Gods he probably heard so much worse with Amarantha.

“I can promise you all that an heir will be in her belly within a month,” Eris announced to his cadre, earning cheers from them all as they drank from their cups.  

I knew it was coming. I think in my heart I always did. From the moment I met Eris he had never once given me any indication that he wouldn’t marry me. Hell even if he hated me it was evident that he had every intention of marrying me just so he could say he deflowered and owned the Jewel of Prythian. I knew all of this and yet I still felt blindsided. 

“What do you say pet? Shall we start trying now?” Eris croons, earning another rally from his companions. 

“Eris that’s enough,” I grunt, pushing him off for good this time. The men around us laugh at my reluctance as I stand to my feet. 

“You little!” Eris seethe standing up right after me and gripping my arm.

“Bend her over your knee and spank her Eris!” drunkenly laughed a man. 

“You touch me right now and our marriage will be void by the laws of your court!” I growl, reminding him. 

“I am the High Lord, I'll change them myself!” he growls at me. 

“Not yet you aren’t,” I scorn him, nothing short of murder in my eyes. “I will see you in three days time to begin planning the wedding. I expect you to be sober and act with the morals befitting of a future High Lord.”

I free my arm from his grasp, leaving him to contend with the embarrassment of failing to control his future wife in front of his companions. I rip off the engagement ring and pocket it, unable to stand the weight of it. My eyes dart around for Cassian and when I don’t find him I grab a bottle of wine from one of the unattended tables. I make my way to the front door, choosing to walk all the way back to the Night Court if necessary. As I reach for the door it’s pulled back by the other side revealing a very disheveled Cassian.

“There you are, I was looking for you,” I grumble, still agitated from Eris’ antics.

“You look upset, what happened?” he slurs slightly. 

“Are you drunk?” I ask tapping my foot in the still half open doorway. 

“Yes, but you didn’t answer my question, what the hell happened?” Cassian grumbled straightening up and pushing the fog from his brain. 

“Eris happened,” I complained, gesturing to where he sat laughing with his companions again. “He was just showing me off and talking about making an heir and all that shit. It doesn’t matter. I stole some wine, let's go.” I huff starting to move past him. 

“No that’s it, I’m going to fucking kill him.” Cassian seethes and begins to move past me, but I place a hand on him stopping him.

“No stop,” I protest standing in front of him, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Eris. “I’ve had enough drama for one night. Please just take me home.” 

Cassian doesn’t take his gaze off the future High Lord, his breathing picking up, the siphons he had on his hands glowing. 

“Cassian,” I whisper, his name for only him to hear. His gaze falls to mine and softens. “Take me home.” I plead. 

 His eyes go soft at my pleas and I see him come back to earth, “Let’s go,” he says leading me out the door. 

We step out into the night air and waltz down the steps. Each and every step that we take pulls me further away from that cursed room, and as the sound of music and chatter get even further away I start to feel myself relax more. Cassian’s presence is like an anchor that keeps my feet on the ground. I am  comfortable. I am safe.

 We reach the bottom of the long stairway, and Cassian stops in his tracks. I turn to find him looking a little shocked, like he just remembered something. 

“What is it?” I ask taking a step towards him. 

“I uh,” he stumbles over his words. “I got you something.”

 He turns around to a large potted plant at the base of the long steps leading up to the ballroom. His large form bends down to pick up something that’s behind it and when he emerges once more he holds a puppy in his arms. I can’t help but gasp as the puppy wiggles to life, looking comically small in the Illyrians arms. I set down the stolen bottle of wine so that I can see her.

“I might’ve gotten a little drunk and broken into Eris’ kennels to get her,” he laughs passing her into my arms. “You just loved her so much and you kept talking about her and… I just couldn’t leave her.” 

The puppy wiggled in my arms licking my face like she had remembered me from our first meeting. I know I would know her face and markings anywhere. 

“Oh Cassian you have no idea how much this means to me,” I beam tears gracing my eyes. 

“I figured we could find her a better home, somewhere she will be loved,” Cassain smiled.

It that moment I don’t think I could’ve ever loved him more. I looked up to see him watching the puppy wiggling in my arms. Everything about him was so beautiful, from his sharp jawline to the tendrils of hair that had fallen out of his low bun. I couldn’t help myself. I stood on my tip toes and pressed a loving kiss to his cheek. 

“Thank you Cassain,” I smile at him as I watch that blush return to his cheeks.

“Anything for you princess,” he reminds me. “Now we really have to get going before someone figures out I stole that thing.” Cassian laughs picking up the bottle of wine and then me. 

We take off into the air and I can’t help but let out a laugh at how ridiculous this all looks. A general, his princess, a stolen puppy and a stolen bottle of wine making a beeline for the Night Court. 

Cassian and I land on the terrace of the House of Wind in a fit of laughter recalling stories of his and my brother's adolescent lives.  

“I couldn’t help myself, he was some prick in his new training clothes and I was a kid with nothing. He deserved to get a little beat up!” Cassian laughed, the most real one I had ever heard from him. 

“He probably deserved it. Rhys is terrible at first impressions,” I giggle thinking of how haughty my young brother used to be. 

Cassian opens the door to the kitchen and living room letting us both in. The house is dark save for a few fae lights over the kitchen island. I wasn’t sure where the shadowsinger was, but whatever lady he was entertaining was certainly a lucky one. The puppy had fallen asleep in my arms on the flight home, so I set her adorable self down on one of the many plush couches. The entire time I felt Cassian’s eyes watching me intensely. 

“My buzz is starting to wear off,” I smile, turning from the pup and walking past Cassian and into the kitchen. “Let’s have a nightcap before we go to bed.”

I pull out my brothers expensive whiskey and a couple of glasses. I wait for Cassian to say something, anything, but he stays silent. The only indication that he’s still there are the raised hairs on my neck indicating that he’s watching the back of my head as I start to pour myself a glass. 

“Single or double?” I ask him, my hands holding his glass and the decanter of whiskey. 

I wait for a response, but the silence that seeps from him fills the room with an unexplainable tension. I’m suddenly all too aware of the lack of heat in the room as the hair on my arms rises and oh gods I can feel him. His presence behind me.

The sound of cool, calculated and slow footsteps echo off the walls of the room and suddenly he’s there behind me. His heat radiates towards me and I don’t dare turn around. His fingertips graze the backs of my elbows, letting me know he’s there. 

“Y/n,” his voice is like a prayer as his hands dance around the backs of my arms. My breath hitches at the utterance of my name, he never calls me by my name and the sound of it on his lips makes my toes curl.

I  slowly turn from the kitchen island and I’m met with a wall of pure muscle. I crane my head up to meet his intense gaze, and his eyes say everything. They pierce right through me. I rest my hands on his forearms letting the feel of the fabric over them ground me but it doesn’t help. He’s too close, and he’s too warm and he’s everything. 

“Cassian,” I whisper for only him to hear. 

I press a hand to his chest feeling his heartbeat beneath his shirt finding that it’s beating just as wildly as mine. My eyes meet his again and there’s a pleading there, like he might be suffering and I’m the only one who can end it. 

“Kiss me,” I breathe. 

His hand sweeps under my chin pulling his lips on mine and I suddenly realize why the romance novels I’ve read describe it as earth shattering. Cassian’s hands fall to my waist and I feel like I’m on fire everywhere his body meets mine. His lips feel like heaven against my own, nothing like the way  Eris kisses me. No, Cassian kisses me like he might love me. My hands grip his shirt and pull him closer. 

I feel his fingers slide down my waist and beneath my thighs. He hoists me up, dress skirts and all, onto the counter and I suddenly have much better access to him. His mouth wanders down my neck leaving wet kisses all over me. I place a hand behind me to get more support and the empty whiskey glass shatters on the tile floor. 

The large necklace Eris gave me gets in the way of his kisses and I feel my blood boil for a moment. How could I belong to Eris when Cassian kisses me like this?  When he holds me like I’m his everything? 

I capture my lips in Cassian’s once more pulling him away from my neck. His mouth is warm and soft on mine. My fingers find the front of the ridiculous necklace and I tear it off, the sound of the clasp breaking reverberating through the house. Cassian growls and presses his hips further between my legs, my hand slaps on the granite counter for support, the gems of the necklace clattering with it. I release it so that my hands can fly to the buttons on his shirt. The growl that had come from his lips had changed something in me. I needed him now, and I needed all of him. 

“Cassian,” I pleaded. The name rolls off my tongue with such ease. His hands roam my body and all I can think about is how I need more. More, more, more, more.

I get the top half of his shirt unbuttoned and I let my fingers roam the bare skin that lies there. He’s warm against my chilled hands, and as my fingertips brush over a long scar I can’t help but want to feel all of him. Know all of him. 

“Stop, stop,” Cassian mutters, taking my hands in his and pulling them away from his chest. 

My mind immediately starts to panic as he backs away from me. What have I done? I’ve ruined everything. I try to meet Cassian’s eyes from a few feet away but he won’t look at me. Instead he looks at his hands, like they’re covered in blood. 

“I can’t. I can’t do this,” he mutters still out of breath. 

My heart shatters. I had dreamed of kissing Cassian, of having him hold me like he was just seconds ago. Never did any of those dreams end the way this one is now. 

“Cassian I-” 

“I’m not worthy,” he breathes, never taking his eyes off his hands. “I’m not worthy of you.” 

My already shattered heart shatters again. 

I slide off the counter taking slow steps towards him waiting for him to flinch or move away but he doesn’t. I reach him placing a hand on the cheek feeling the stubble there, and despite his words I swore he leaned into my touch ever so slightly. My thumb caresses  his face, begging his eyes to meet  mine and they do. In that beautiful shade of hazel there’s a sorrow by likes of which I’ve never seen. 

“Then show me every part of you that feels unworthy of my love and let me kiss it until it knows nothing but it,” I say to him, praying he hears every single word. His eyes soften. 

“Y/n,” he breathes pulling my lips to his once more and I swear right then and there that I’d do anything that man asked me if he just said my name like that again.  

My arms wrap around his neck pulling him down towards where I stand on my tiptoes to reach him. Somehow this kiss is more passionate, on both ends as I try to live up to what I’ve told him. His hands hoisted me up again, even though the skirt of my dress was debilitating. 

I feel myself being carried down the hall into a room I realize is his from this scent enveloping me from every angle. He sets me down gently, like I might break and kicks the door behind him closed. My hands find the last buttons on his shirt and I get them off with ease, my next course of action has me reaching around my back to tug at the strings of the corseted dress. I get the tie undone, but the rest is tricky. 

“Wait, stop,” Cassian orders, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “Are you sure you want this? Because once I start I won’t be able to stop.”

“I want this, I want all of you Cassian.” I nod still breathless and his eyes search mine for any hint of a lie. “Please,” I beg and I watch all resolve fall from his face. 

“Fuck y/n,” he moans before pressing his lips to mine.  

My hands find the bare muscles of his chest, and try to commit every line and scar to memory. I run my hands all over him, the warmth and feel of him addicting. My fingers fall lower over his abs and I swear I melt at the years of building muscle there. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You can’t touch me like that.” he growls using his hands on my hips to spin me around so my back is flush to him. 

His lips find my neck and I swear I could fall apart just by the way his mouth feels on my skin. I feel the laces on my dress get looser and looser as his fingers work them apart behind me. The second the top one is loose enough the weight of the skirt pulls the top down leaving me completely bare. My breath hitches as I feel his calloused fingers gently coaxing me to turn around and face him. The second I do my cheeks flush and I fight the urge to cover myself. 

“You’re so beautiful. I wish I knew a better way to say it than that. You are-” he loses his words, pulling me closer so my breasts are pressed to the bare skin of his chest. The feeling is euphoric. “You are everything.” he says, and it feels more like a confession. 

He leans in to kiss me once more but I press my hand to his cheek to stop him, “Cassian,” I breathe and I feel his breath hitch at the way I say his name. “I love you.” the phrase echoes through the room. 

I feel his body tense pulling me impossibly close. “Now I’m never letting you go,” he mutters, pressing his lips to mine in a fiery need.

His hands hoist me up and I wrap my arms around his shoulders for support. My aching core brushes against his abs and it takes all my self control not to shift my hips to get more friction there. He lays me gently on his bed, and I feel my back sink into his mountains of pillows. His clothed hips settle between mine and he pulls his head back to look at me. 

“I’ve loved you ever since I met you. We had just barely become adults and I walked into the townhouse for the first time and saw you reading a book by the fire and I knew,” he confessed. “I knew I loved you before I even knew your name.” 

I couldn’t stop the rogue tear that slipped from my eye at his confession. Cassian’s lips kissed the drop away before pressing his lips to mine once more. My hands threaded to his hair as he made his way down my neck leaving a trail of fire everywhere his lips brushed. 

“Can I touch you?” Cassian breathed against the valley between my breasts. 

“Yes,” I hiss needing him everywhere. 

His lips attach themselves to the aching bud of my breast, pulling it taut. I gasp, arching my back off the bed watching him roll my nipple in his mouth. His other hand reaches to twist my other breast and I swear I’ve never felt so good in my life. My hands find his long hair and tug on it, earning a groan from him that sends vibrations through me. He switches to the other side giving it the same treatment and oh gods, this man would certainly be the death of me. His lips come off my breast with a pop as he takes in the sight of me. 

“You’re perfect,” he says, pressing a kiss between my breasts once more. 

“I want you inside me,” I groan, pressing my hips into him. 

“No I’ll hurt you,” he grits, feeling my arousal press against him as he leaves kisses on my stomach. 

“Cassian please,” I cry, tears threatening to fall from the sheer need I have for him. His eyes meet mine and I know I have him right where I want him. 

“It’s going to hurt y/n,” he tells me. 

“I don’t care,” I say, leaning up a bit to cup his face bringing his lips to mine in a quick kiss. “When I said I want all of you Cassian I meant it. You said you’d do anything for me.” 

“Fuck y/n, okay but I’m going to get you ready first,” he groans and before he can pull away I press a kiss to his forehead. 

His lips trail down my stomach once more until he gets to where I need him most. He skips over my core to leave kisses on the inside of my thighs. My body goes limp and I fall into the pillows again craning my neck to see him. A hand slides up my thigh and runs through my folds causing me to arch my back. 

“You’re so wet,” he grits out feeling the pool of arousal between my legs. 

“Cass please,” I whine, arching my hips to his mouth. 

I watch his eyes flair at the nickname and within moments his mouth is on me licking a stripe up my core that has me letting out an unnatural sound of pleasure. His tongue swirls around my entrance before licking another long stripe through my folds once more, flicking his tongue at the top. He attacks an area between my legs that has me arching off the bed and seeing stars. Surely there could be no better pleasure in the world than this. I let out a guttural moan that has Cassian smirking from where he feasts on me, his eyes lighting up in male pride. 

“Oh gods Cassian! How are you-ah!” I cry out feeling tears prick my eyes from the waves of euphoria gliding through my body, like every nerve was being caressed by his hands all at once.  

“It’s your clit y/n,” Cassian smirks. “Surely all those naughty romance books taught you about your own anatomy?”  he teases rubbing circles on the bud with his fingers. 

“No I think they- Ah! They might’ve glazed over that part.” I cry out trying to keep my  back from arching off the bed. 

“Then allow me to enlighten you,” he grinned before feasting on me once more. 

The feeling of his mouth on me had me reaching for something to grasp onto, something to ground me. Cassian must’ve noticed as seconds later I felt his rough hand grasp mine holding it tightly. His other drifted from my hip and I felt him sink a long finger into me slowly but surely. The new sensation had my heartrate picking  up even more. It skyrocketed as he started pumping it in and out of me until he added another. The knot in my stomach started to build and I could feel my body pulling closer to the edge. 

“Cassian I’m going to- OH GODS!” 

I didn’t even have time to finish the sentence before I was falling over the edge, all over him. He rode me through my orgasm before pressing a kiss to my clit. 

“You taste fucking amazing,” he says, voice deep and husky. If he had spoken to me like that in a setting where my clothes weren’t already on his bedroom floor I would’ve ripped them off just the same.

“I do?” I laugh, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah you do,” he smiles moving up towards me. “Come here,” he says, pressing his lips to mine. 

I savor the taste of him and well, me. It’s new, and I can tell by the way his hand is ripping down his pants that he finds it just as arousing as I do. I glance down to where his aching cock springs free and it takes everything in me not to gasp at the size of it. His hand tilts my chin up to press another quick kiss to my lips. 

“Forget what I said earlier. The second you want to stop, just say the word.” he tells me. 

“No, I want this. I want you to be my first,” I assure him and I swear I feel his cock twitch against my thigh at my words. 

“Okay I’m gonna put it in, if it hurts just tell me okay princess?” he says, pressing a kiss to my brow. I nearly shudder at him calling me princess again, but this time it’s different, it doesn’t feel like a title, it feels like a loving name. 

“I will,” I nod to him. 

I watch as he guides his cock to my entrance, getting it slick with the aftermath of the orgasm he just pulled from me. I feel him sink in a bit and I start to feel the stretch. I focus my eyes on Cassain’s face. His brow is furrowed as he watches himself start to sink into me.  He pushes in further and the stretch starts to burn causing me to take in a sharp breath. 

“Shhh baby,” he coos, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’re doing so good.”

“Keep going Cass,” I breathe out as tears prick my eyes. 

He pushes in further and somehow even the pain feels good, because it’s him. Every single inch of him is flush to me and it still isn’t enough. It takes a moment but eventually his hips are brushing up to mine and he’s fully seated inside me, and gods, the feeling of being so full is the best feeling I’ve ever known. 

CASSIAN’S POV: 

As my cock finally sinks into her it takes everything in me not to pull out and slam back in. I curse myself for even thinking such a thought knowing how badly I would hurt her. 

All the while I give her time to adjust her pussy flexes and clenches around my cock and godsshe’s so fucking tight. Sweat coats my brow and my muscles quake with the need to start moving but I won’t do it until she asks me. 

“Okay move Cass, I’m ready,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to my lips. 

Cass

Gods hearing her speak to me so informally shouldn’t make my heart beat so fast but it does.

 I pull out a little before slowly pushing back in, relishing the feeling of how warm she is around me. I look down at her to look for any signs of discomfort on her face. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly open, and the little pants falling from those perfect lips are enough to send me into a coma. I begin to build a steady pace once I feel she can take it and as I do those little pants turn into cries and I swear I could cum right there. 

“Fuck you’re so tight,” I groan into her neck.

She lets out another moan and I can’t help but smirk knowing what my words do to her. My eyes glance at her face as I fuck into her. Her hair sprawled out all over the pillows, her eyes closed, the look of pure pleasure on her face. I press my lips to hers unable to stop myself, not when I’ve dreamt of doing so for so long. 

Fuck how many times have I dreamt of her writhing in pleasure beneath me? The feel of her delicate hands wandering my skin? My name falling from those perfect lips? I couldn’t stop the words from falling from my mouth.

“Gods I love you so much y/n,” I say pressing my forehead to hers. 

“I love you too Cassian,” she breathes and I watch as another tear falls from her face. I bring my lips down to kiss it away, and in that moment I vow that I’ll kiss her tears away till they bury me in the ground. 

Her pussy clenches around me again as I thrust into her and I can tell by the way her finger nails are digging into my shoulders that she’s close. 

“Let go for me princess,” I murmur through ragged breaths pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“CASSIAN!” she screams cumming all over my cock. 

It’s enough to drive me over the edge with her, “Fuck y/n,” I moan as I thrust into her one last time watching her beautiful face come undone for me before I cum inside her. 

Snap. 

My eyes go wide and I’m thankful that she’s still too blissed out to notice as I feel that thread inside me that connects me to her. 

Mate.

All this time, she was my mate. The reason I fell in love with her the moment I saw her, the reason I couldn’t stay away from her. The princess was my mate. Her words from earlier continued to echo through my head…

Show me every part of you that feels unworthy of my love and let me kiss it until it knows nothing but it…

I searched her face for any sign that she felt the bond snap too, but all I saw was her beaming up at me. Gods she was so beautiful. My mate was so beautiful. 

I reached for the other end of that shining golden thread and found nothing there. 

She didn’t know.

Part 6

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 ,  @graceshifts, @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21,  @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup, @dissociated-always, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @mybestfriendmademe, @anxious-study

[inklore]

For the blurb weekend:

Billionaire x employee/staff with Miguel O'Hara please! 💖

use me

— billionaire!miguel o'hara x secretary!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: eighteen+ content, this is an au therefore canon does not live here therefore our boy ain't a sad spiderman just a sad billionaire with shitty morals, tension, masturbation, miguel's mean, also talks of pollution because hello it's realistic the earth is dying.

note: billionaire miguel is perfect because he's smart and gets shit done, is that shit usually done the right way? no but he looks hot doing it soo alls forgiven xoxo.

“You know, if you ran an honest business, you’d have fewer aggravating investors.” The smile that molds itself around the glass pressed to your lips is more of a tease than a pleasantry. 

Pleasantries had packed up and shipped themselves far and wide from the two of you. 

Probably finding safe harbor on a less tremulous land than whatever your and Miguel’s professional relationship was. 

“That could be true,” he says with a deep, agitated sigh. The tip of his nail tapping an angry mark in the wood of his desk. “But then where would leeches like you work?” There’s barely a twitch of his lips when he cuts you with the words, his brows stagnant in that deadly, irritable look he always has. 

“Oh wow,” you cough at the sting of the expensive vodka rather than at the wound his words are meant to cause. Your heels sound louder against the polished floor in his office than any other room within the ten story building as you make your way away from the small bar—your boss's lack of personalized photos, or even something inspirational as a flower on the wall, amplifying your movements.

“The meeting must have gone horribly if you’re being extra cruel tonight.” You set yourself in one of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk, the un-offered liquor in your glass almost gone from your descent from the bar to the black cushion currently under your pencil skirt. 

He grunts, his eyes fleeting over your body for half a second before he turns and stares across the room where the floor to ceiling windows show the lights of the city and the moon's distortion of the yellow haze it’s not, naturally, supposed to have shadowing. 

The man made yellow of machines and gases that cover even the stars. That makes one forget they're even there until you’re far from the city, and it’s hounds who are only trying to gain some worth of money or self discovery from polluting it. 

The head of the hounds sitting right in front of you. 

The man who owns more companies than you could fill up an entire filing cabinet with. The man every business tycoon and money hungry scoundrel wants to latch onto only to get a taste of the beautiful brain that's beneath that great head of hair and intimidating scowl.

The richest man in the room. 

Always. 

And if Miguel is part of the reason that the moon is overcast and the stars disappearing, then so be it. He’s past the point of going about it the right way. Of turning his vision and man made billion dollar corporation around, he’s in too deep. Done too much. 

He’s not a man who sees a life lesson and ignores it for what it could be. He takes it for what it is and continues on his way. What’s done is done. What’s going to happen, will happen. 

He wasn’t the first person to start a security company that became more, did more, and blurred some of the lines between too much and too little. A set of rules laid out by himself for himself so everything goes right. Accordingly, to keep business booming. 

And he won’t be the last. 

Miguel is not a bad man.

He just does the things that most people are too afraid to do. To face. To look at the reality of people and their selfish needs and not shy away from the darkness that lies underneath it. The cause, the effect. 

Miguel can both stop them and make them happen. 

It’s why he’s the best. 

It’s why you chose to work for him. Even if the words currently coming out of his mouth say differently. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing that I don't run an honest business. Makes it easier to get rid of the staff.” 

The gasp you let out is dramatic and makes his jaw tick, “oh, no, please don’t fire me, Mr. O’hara. Whatever will I do? I have a family.” You perform. Give your best pout and hand over your heart to sell it. 

“No one has a family here.” 

Strike the meeting going horribly. Grim seems more on the money. 

And maybe if your work relationship had the boss and employee lines drawn in a permanent marker rather than an erasable one that keeps getting reapplied after nights like these, you’d ask him if he was alright. To talk about it. To give him unsolicited advice that might make the demons in the boardroom gnawing at his morality stop plaguing him. 

But that’s not what this was. 

Who both of you are.

He was your boss. You his secretary. 

And some nights, you were his only outlet for the aggressions of the day. Of being Miguel O’hara. 

So that’s why you don’t say another word. Just finish the rest of the contents of your glass in silence. Your eyes moving along the room, following his gaze out the window. The clink the glass makes from you setting it on the edge of his desk is not enough to have him look your way or stop the tightening and strain of his jaw muscles. 

But when you lean back in the chair, your fingertips dancing along the edge of your blouse as if there were a piece of lint there. As if you weren’t making a show of running them along your cleavage and across the peaks of your chest until they dipped down to your abdomen. Past your hips, until you get to the bottom of your skirt.

Your eyes finally looking up to see Miguel’s already on you. To see how hard his fist is tightening against his desk. 

A ghost of a smirk edging its way at the corner of your mouth as you pull up your skirt until it’s tight around your thighs. Your middle and index finger running along the outside lace of your underwear before adding the smallest of pressures against your clothed clit making you gasp. 

“Are you in the mood to watch tonight?” You ask. Making a show of spreading your legs further apart in the chair, a heel comes up to rest at the corner of his desk to give him the perfect view of you pulling your underwear to the side and running your fingers through your slit. “Or do you want to touch?” 

There’s not an answer right away. 

At least not in words. 

The glint in his eye that most associate with his angry outburst is the sign you know to be of his control slipping. The ache you know his wrist feels from how tight his fist is giving way to all the degrading thoughts he’s having in his head to try and hold back the beast that’s begging to be released—for a release. 

That you’re always so eager to give him.

The more your moans and sighs fill the room, the wetter you become from your fingers moving against your clit, teasing at your entrance: the more you see Miguel’s controlled demeanor slip. The more you feel that coil tightening in your lower belly. 

“Miguel,” you say his name in that breathy way that always makes him swallow harder. That has him burying his face in the crook of your neck, so you can’t see how much he fucking loves it when he’s pounding into you. “You deserve it. Let yourself have it.” The whimper that falls from your lips when you push two fingers inside of you makes your leg propped on his desk shake.

“Use me.” 

Is what apparently nails the coffin for him. 

What has him getting up from his chair and stomping over to you in three quick strides, looking like an animal whose prey has been dangling in front of them for hours and he’s finally had enough; all in danger of his wrath. 

The sting of his fingers at the back of your scalp as he pulls you from the chair, pushing your ass against the edge of his desk. His other hand squeezing below your jaw, fingers pressed hard against the strumming vein of your quickened heartbeat. 

“Say it again,” he growls. His heavy breath mixes with yours as his lips ghost against your open mouth. The hand at your scalp leaves an ache in its wake as he grabs your wrist and places your palm against the hard bulge in the front of his pants. “Tell me I deserve it.” Your gasp falls into his mouth when his hand tightens around your throat. “Tell me to use you. Beg.”  

[piece-of-the-pie-if]

Demo! 🍑 Directory! 🍑 Trigger Warnings! 🍑

It's the first day of senior year and the people are itching for some drama... apparently.

When you get caught slacking by your best friend and staring off into the abyss turns out to be resident cool kid Dylan Quinn you're dragged under in to the cess pool of love-based-drama that surrounds NYC's McKinley High.

Just as you're forced into a love triangle by the school's resident queen of mean, Kinsley Grace–Cameron, for the mere rumour of your supposed crush on Dylan, your least favourite teacher assigns you babysitting duties with the new guy, Shay Walker and the rebel-without-a-cause J Montgomery for your year long finals project──landing you with the starring role in the latest gossip mill.

How are you ever going to survive the graduating class of '25?

There's no murder, there's no magic, there's no monsters or ancient societies, no sci-fi future apocalypse, no treasure to find or deadly goons... just high school seniors navigating romance and maybe an asshole teacher and potential conspiracy theories.

Features! 🍑 FAQ! 🍑

romance one (or more*...) of five love interests! are you in touch with your feelings? could you be non-committal? do you fall hard and fast and with everyone?

customise your mc! from your appearance to your gender to your personality and your family relations!

overcome your senior year of school at Jackson McKinley High! are you studious or a slacker? do you care for popularity or are you content as a relative nobody?

get a job! in your family's bakery or your local café or something more unorthodox!

be the object of the rumour mill! does it feel like unwanted drama is following you? or do you live for it and actively feed into it?

+with five solo routes, two poly routes and two love triangles you have a plethora of choice! love triangles include──dylan and kinsley as well as dylan and theo while poly routes are as such──the cool crush and the mean girl, #kinslan──the new guy and the rebel, #jayne!

──*please note that this is a romance focused i.f and as such no set aro/ace/aroace route is present.

engage in the conspiracy theory surrounding your school! is your least favourite teacher dating your favourite teacher? is there actually a cannibal on the faculty? is there a reason for the sudden spike of suspensions?

Key Pieces! 🍑 [ LI Introductions! ]🍑

[RO] The ‘Crush’!──Dylan Quinn [gender locked─they/them─12/01/2006]

━@.dylquill

comforting smiles, playful eyes, paint stained clothes, chipped nail polish, chest binders, chalk covered fingers, messy hair, cluttered rooms, sculptural clay, dark hair, friendly words, genuine popularity, intense loyalty, unspoken understanding but silent judgement too.

[RO] The New Guy!──Shayne Walker [gender locked─he/him─04/04/2007]

━@.onlyshay

cheeky smirks and cheeky winks, ruffled hair, english accents, comedic timing, wide smiles, loudly laughing, wilting in silence, heartache for home, missing friends, curly brown hair, warm brown eyes, younger brother, older brother, everyday adventures, discovering new people, new places.

[RO] The Mean Girl!──Kinsley Grace–Cameron [gender locked─she/her─11/21/2006]

━@.kgracecameron/@.kinsleys_

shades of green and white, sun bleached blonde hair, cold blue eyes, sunblock tanned patterns, sickly sweet smiles, eye rolls, longing glances, hesitation in silence, secrets behind closed doors, heavy shoulders with a head held high, craving difference, stubborn to a fault.

[RO] The Rebel!──Jaxon/Jasmin Montgomery [gender selectable─he/him or she/her─06/17/2007]

━@.m0ntjax/@.m0ntjas

stick and poke tattoos, cigarette smoke, uncaring attitude, strong and silent type, doesn't know what a shirt is, bloody knuckles, sunglasses collections, secret book worm, borrowed vape pens, complicated family relations, exploding anger, protective older sibling, almost alcoholic, androgyny, short hair, italian heritage, intellectual depth, no regard for authority.

[RO] The Best Friend!──Theo Wesley [gender selectable─he/him, she/her or they them─09/30/2007]

━@.yelsewoeht

hair care as self care, cat parent, not-so-subtle pinning, rooftop picnics, friend dates, jazz cafés, plant parent, eco nerd, photos as memories, dark skin, coiled hair, far sighted glasses, people watching, balcony lover, bookshop worker, essays about love, hugs as a love language, suffer in silence type, made of money but would rather they weren't, smoking weed but only on the weekends, indescribable feeling of loneliness in a crowded room.

The Bestest Friend!──Chris/Chloe/Charlie West [gender locked─he/him, she/her or they/them─02/14/2007]

━@.east_coast_cw

The ‘Rival’!──Valory/Vinny Williamson [gender selectable─she/her or they/them─10/03/2007]

━@.victorywills

The Cool Teacher!──Easton/Estelle Bharti [gender selectable─he/him or she/her─05/19/1992]

The Asshole Teacher!──Nolan Thorp [gender locked─he/him─11/26/1978]

©️ bonnie berry 2023──@moretinyideas 🍑

[anantaru]

✧ ۫ 𑄼ల۫  ۪ sfw scaramouche boyfriend headcanons

we all know he deserves some fluff in his life 🩰

genre: fluff, gn! reader, kissing, lots of love, gossip boyfriend kuni (my favorite personal hc)

+ ˚ gossiping while cuddling (gossip bf kuni)

without a single doubt, quality time like that one in particular was surely scaramouche's favorite and according to him, nothing else could outbid it either.

and, well, this is what he always aspired, to have you close by his side so you'd be secured and loved forever.

enveloping you with both tenderness and warmth, kuni had placed his head against your own to listen to your incoherent mumbling about your day.

how come your breathing was calming him so greatly? your heart, it sounded so fragile, stirring him on to protect it even further.

more often than not, you'd also ask him to tell you all about his past work place, you weren't sure what made it funnier, the stories scaramouche would come up with from time to time or the way he was telling them to you.

full of disgust and demeanor, it was safe to say he hated everyone there.

from what you can see, it was clear as day kuni loved sharing stuff with you, didn’t matter what it was.

he wasn't eager to do so in the beginning but gradually loosened up to the idea of sharing things with his s/o.

yet in truth, and that goes without saying, scaramouche was actually quite invested in the gossips and little stories you'd tell him, he'd ask more than you would’ve thought he would about them.

the worst, jarring, possible outcome would be for you to leave him on a damned cliffhanger, it was infuriating and irksome, so annoying!

his hands are now tightly entangled in yours and ever so often he‘d draw you closer as well, kissing and worshipping your tender skin while eagerly listening to the continuation of your juicy, hilarious stories.

+ ˚ painting each others nails

as you'd expect from your boyfriend, he'd do whatever you'd want, sometimes scaramouche would complain about it but do not fret, he‘d still do it regardless.

so, if you ask if he could paint your nails because you tend to mess yours up, he'd naturally agree after some bickering like "can you not even do that without me?"

but bear in mind, scaramouche wants everyone to know you're his so, what if, he'd let you paint his nails too now? it'll be a perfect outcome, a so called "win-win" situation.

"be careful!" he's squeaking as you worked your way to his fingernails, gingerly applying the black polish, slowly, you did it slow so you wouldn't mess it up.

important to note and much to your surprise, kuni was actually quite skilled in putting on nail polish on your nails.

"why wouldn't i be able to do this?"

he's shooting you a deadly glare while hiding the obvious flustered state he were in, raising a brow.

"do you humans need to be taught every single little thing?"

here he goes again, well, that was entirely different but you did not bother to speak up, being aware of his nature with words that is.

"you're just that skilled kuni."

making sure to add a little teasing, apathetic lace around your words, you had caught your boyfriend off guard, again.

he's averting his gaze from you fully now to focus on the mission ahead— that being applying polish on the nails of your left hand, but not before snarkily rolling his eyes back at you.

also in true fashion, he‘d complain every once in a while, can you stop moving? he‘s trying to get the job done, duh!

"stop wiggling around like that, you just want me to mess up!"

+ ˚ getting used to being loved

touch, intimacy and love.

three things that weren't as easy for scaramouche as someone might think.

you see, it's quite difficult to trust, to open yourself up to someone and give yourself to them in the process.

for him, it's like he showed weakness that way, something he utterly despised about not only himself, but about humans in the past.

yet as you took his hands into yours, soothing relaxing circles on his palms, the once dampened light in him, suddenly glowed yet again.

you had never seen it before like that. Of course, when scaramouche and you were together, you'd be able to coax out a couple grins or smiles from him— even with him trying to hide them, they‘ll still appear in the end.

but that glow, that damned glow and you couldn't stop yourself from looking into his eyes that shimmered with a bright indigo color.

"is this too much?" you whispered and hummed at him to be sure, not daring to overstep any boundaries or have him overwhelmed.

"yes, i‘m fine."

once, he had answered back, his hands weakly traced over your arms, melting in your skin and drawing themselves all the way to your shoulders, one second - two seconds, before pulling himself back to your hands.

the motion of it was slow and light, for scaramouche it was interesting to see how your body reacted to him.

it was almost addicting to watch and study your facial expressions— how your brows knitted together in concentration, or how he caught you chew on your cheeks as he advanced closer to your collarbones.

all the little details surely would come in handy some day, he figured.

+ ˚ conclusion and his past

truly, he wondered how he had ever gotten so lucky to have you by his side.

was this, again, some cruel trick played out by some god? or was it for one, a lucky encounter he had faced?

scaramouche was certain he'd never get this lucky again, and quite frankly, he didn't want to. His past was filled with both sorrow and hard comings, despair without a way out.

sometimes, while being close to you, while none of you spoke rather only indulged in each others embrace, he can't help himself but be encountered by those dreadful memories again.

it's as if his mind was playing dirty, as if it never let him heal but then, he's looking at you, slightly shaken and you notice, you always do.

and when you're closing the slight gap between your lips, kissing away the grim and distress, kuni had been woken up by you again, stirred from the unpleasant feelings as you reassured him that you will stay, as long as you had to until he had fallen asleep at last.

©2022 anantaru do not share, copy, translate

[softgreengrass]

Covert Narcissism

Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: There's a new student at Nevermore, and she's certainly captured your attention.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: swearing ig, otherwise none, implied f!reader

Author's Note: not angst!!! reader is a cocky little shit. there's a prank war. this was meant to be like half the length that it turned out oh well. thank u guys so much for all the support, i was so not expecting it! thank u thank u thank u thank u 💙💙💙

A new student at Nevermore. You had heard the rumors, seen Enid’s blog post about staying a safe distance away from her roommate, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the girl who walked into your world history class.

She looked utterly terrifying, in the way that made your head buzz and your stomach turn. She was also undeniably beautiful, with full lips and silky black hair, dead eyes dropped into a dangerous stare.

She sat down at an empty table in the center of the room — a safe choice, an attempt to blend in, a chance to observe.

Of course, you weren’t going to let her get away with that.

You got up from your seat in the back row and shuffled over, sliding into the chair right next to her.

Her side-eye was deadly as she pulled out a black notebook.

“Hey there,” you said, laying on the charm as thick as possible.

“Can I help you?” she replied, expressionless.

“Where are you from?” you leaned back, gazing at the curve of her cheekbone. “Wait, let me guess. Tennessee?”

Her eyes hardened. “If you finish that sentence, I’ll hang your intestines like a chandelier.”

She didn’t understand the twinkle in your eye, or why all you did was laugh. “Because you’re the only ten I see.”

She grabbed a pen from her bag, clicking it to reveal a glinting blade. “Would you like this to be driven through your eye socket?”

“Take me out first, would you?”

You bit back another laugh at the fury that flashed across her face. Then the history teacher cleared his throat, signifying the start of class.

His lecture droned on and on about the Trans-Saharan Trade Network, and you busied yourself with slowly inching closer to her. She noticed, you knew she did, but she also didn’t bother moving, so you took that as an invitation. But as soon as you reached over to her notebook, pencil not yet touching paper, her hand shot out to grab your wrist.

Her grip was ice-cold, tight enough to cut off circulation. You swallowed.

“Do not test me,” she muttered.

You lifted your palms in surrender, eyes wide. You hadn’t expected her to be so physical about it.

Reluctantly, she let you go, and you rubbed your wrist as you shifted back over to your side of the desk. You decided to try to focus on the lecture for the rest of class, but by the third mention of concubines, you were zoned out and staring at the clock.

You couldn’t really tell what she was doing. It looked like she was taking notes, sure, but her eyes were glazed over and she could’ve been writing “asshole” over and over for all you knew.

She was almost deathly pale, her breathing so shallow you weren’t sure she really was alive. Her braids were absolutely meticulous, not a strand out of place. Her uniform was black and gray. You remembered the argument you had had with Weems when you first arrived at Nevermore — you demanded that you be allowed to wear something other than that godawful uniform, and she refused to relent, until eventually you were stuck scrubbing the floors in detention, striped blue blazer on. Of course the new girl would get special privileges.

There was something striking about her sunken eyes, about her perfect posture, about the fact that she was a new student at Nevermore in the middle of the first quarter. You tried to take in every part of her that you could: black nail polish, reddish lips, defined jawline, firm glare.

“It’s very obvious that you’re staring,” she muttered, still writing down her magical spells or whatnot.

“Is that a problem?” you asked.

“Only if you value your life.”

“You are just a ball of sunshine, aren’t you?”

“You cannot take a hint, can you?” she snapped, turning to face you, eyes narrowing. “I’m not interested.”

“Everyone’s interested,” you smirked, glancing down at her lips and back up to dark eyes.

She ignored you for the rest of the period, properly ignored you, and you tried not to be too bothered by it. You watched, laughing with your friends, as she challenged Bianca to a bout during fencing. Wednesday Addams was going to learn how things worked at Nevermore.

It was quite simple, really. Nobody tried to best Bianca, and nobody ignored you. For most, it wasn’t a problem at all. You had girls fawning over you left and right, plus the occasional pig-headed boy who thought he’d be the exception. Even if someone didn’t want to sleep with you, they wanted to be your friend, and while there weren’t any popularity contests at Nevermore, you would’ve won them all.

But Wednesday Addams wouldn’t give you the time of day for a week after she arrived. So, you decided to play her game.

“Heard about those murders in the woods?” you asked, sidling up next to her as she walked briskly down the hallway.

Wednesday didn’t respond.

“What if I told you I’m the killer?”

Her head snapped to look at you, and you grinned triumphantly. “You’re not capable of that.”

“Ouch,” you clutched your heart, lengthening your strides to keep up with her quickening pace. “Come on, you don’t know that. I could be a killer.”

“But you aren’t,” she said impatiently. 

“Why don’t you like me?” you asked earnestly, watching carefully for any twitches or flutters that might betray a reaction.

She replied without missing a beat. “Because you’re insufferable.”

“Bullshit,” you laughed.

Turning on her heel, she took an abrupt left turn, and you were forced to continue to your next class. You spent it brainstorming ways to irritate her, since her reaction was bound to be interesting, and soon you had a plan.

The problem was, you only had one class with her, and it seemed like she actively avoided you in the hallways. You had never been close with Enid, certainly not close enough to get into her dorm, and you weren’t going to embarrass yourself by asking around.

So for a while, you kept to annoying her in world history, laughing at every dirty look and death threat she responded with. It wasn’t as if you didn’t have other people to occupy your time.

When you caught Thing digging into the moisturizer drawer in the infirmary, a golden opportunity presented itself before you. You snatched him, holding the writhing hand until he stopped squirming and listened to what you had to say. You told him he would either help you prank Wednesday, or he would spend the rest of the week firmly duct-taped to the ceiling of Weems’ office.

Was it a threat? Yes. But you needed an inside man if you were going to have any shot of holding your own in the war you were about to start.

Eventually he agreed, after trying everything possible to free himself from your grasp, including flicking lotion into your eyes. You nearly slammed him into the table for that.

By the end of the day, you had already arranged your first prank: Thing stole Wednesday’s book of sheet music, and you replaced each piece with “I Want It That Way” for cello. The next morning, you woke up to dozens of plastic cups full of blood on the floor of your dorm, packed so close together that you had no hope of avoiding knocking them over.

So, you were late to class with blood-stained shoes. And as the blood you couldn’t sop up dried, your floor warped, looking more like mahogany than white oak.

And it was on.

World history became a battleground: you pulled a few strategic screws from her chair so it would collapse the moment she sat down, she coated your side of the desk in superglue, you told the teacher she had volunteered to give a lecture about the dissolution of Yugoslavia, she set fire to your pants in the middle of class.

“Unoriginal,” she deadpanned, looking down at the dead snake dumped inside of her bookbag. “Did you kill it?”

You shook your head, realizing too late that you had just knocked yourself down a few points.

“Disappointing.”

Your plan had worked perfectly — Wednesday spoke to you now. Nearly all of it was insults, but she was still speaking to you. The pranks escalated, and Wednesday’s death threats became more and more detailed, until you finally decided it was time to gain the upper hand. She had always committed the more gruesome pranks, always been the aggressive one, but you wanted control now. You were going to get a reaction out of her that wasn’t just anger at your defiance.

Enid and Wednesday were long gone, off to investigate some old mansion. You let yourself into their dorm, holding the biggest basket you could find, and swung open the doors to Wednesday’s wardrobe.

Under the cover of night, no one saw you carrying heaps of clothes outside or hauling them into a bleach-filled barrel. No one saw the assortment of dyes you had prepared: various shades of pink, pastel yellow and green, periwinkle blue.

You laughed quietly to yourself as you hung her clothes back up, leaving them to dry in her wardrobe overnight. There was no way she would be able to top this — there wasn’t a single aspect of your character vulnerable to an attack of this magnitude. You would defeat her here.

Wednesday didn’t show up to any of her classes the next day, but the wide-eyed looks Enid gave you were all the confirmation you needed. Maybe she would go back to ignoring you, but at least you would have won. You kept your head held high, your smile wide as you went about your day.

You should’ve known she wouldn’t have let you win so easily.

In the middle of a restful night’s sleep, you were awoken by a loud hum. At first, through the fog of drowsiness, you thought the heater had finally kicked on.

Then you felt the first few brush against your hand, and your eyes shot open. In a flash, an entire horde of bees was on you, stinging every inch of exposed skin. You screamed, waving your arms, and bees flooded your mouth. You didn't realize that the perpetrator was still standing in the shadows of your room.

You jumped out of bed, vision entirely blocked by the swarm, stumbling around not unlike a headless chicken. You swiped at your arms and face, feeling stingers drag down your skin, feeling prick after prick and feeling tingly swelling.

“You didn’t really think you would get away with something like that, did you?” Wednesday said blankly, tilting her head as she watched you struggle.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you cried, shaking your limbs vigorously to get the thousands of tiny legs off of you.

“Do you surrender?” she smirked. You couldn’t see it, or you would have made a big deal out of it.

“Yes, Jesus Christ!” you exclaimed, scratching at your eyes and spitting out bees. “I surrender, you win, get them off!”

Wednesday picked up the smoker beside her and began spraying you. The bees slowly fell to the floor, asleep, and you stood shaking, red and swollen. You felt like an idiot and a half. What were you thinking, provoking the girl who got here for murdering someone?

“I accept your surrender,” she said, using a broom to scoop the bees into a drawstring bag.

“I would hope so,” you mumbled, looking at the bumps covering your arms, tensing your muscles to resist the urge to itch them. “How the hell do you have so many bees?”

“I’m a Hummer,” she said simply.

The nurse gave you a big tub of lotion and a few antihistamines, and you spent the next two days cooped up in your room, wishing death upon Wednesday Addams and her bees.

When you finally returned to your classes, Wednesday watched, amusement swimming somewhere deep in her eyes. The itchiness had somewhat subsided, but you still had to wear long sleeves and deflect countless questions about what happened to your face.

“Not so cocky now, are we?” Wednesday asked you in world history, nearly smiling at the way your face twisted in anger. 

“There’s a line between a practical joke and assault,” you bit.

“I don’t believe there is.”

You couldn’t argue with that. So you sat fuming for the rest of class and the days that followed. After a week, there were no remaining physical signs of what she had done, but your psyche would be scarred forever. And of course, it was then that Weems called you into her office for a favor.

“Why would I do that?” you asked, scrunching up your face.

“To put it simply,” she sighed, leaning forward over her desk. “The Sheriff needs Wednesday to be here at school on the night of the Rave’N.”

“Why do I have to take her?”

“Oh, please,” she smiled slyly. “Just ask her, alright? I’ll owe you.”

You raised your eyebrows, weighing your options. Get Wednesday to go to a dance with you, or be on Weems’ bad side again. You didn’t know when you had gotten off of it, but you certainly weren’t in a hurry to return. Besides, the least Wednesday could do after nearly murdering you was go to a dance with you.

“Fine.”

“I’m not going to the dance,” was Wednesday’s response, quick as a whip.

You weren’t the least bit surprised. “But I asked you nicely.”

“I am not participating in another pointless childish tradition.”

“But I’m asking you to go with me. To be my date,” you pouted, watching as she scowled at you.

“Perhaps you need to have your memory checked. I’ve already told you I’m not interested.”

“Don’t you owe me something? After, you know, traumatizing me for life?”

“Weak,” she muttered under her breath. “No, I don’t believe I do. You don’t owe me something for ruining my entire wardrobe, do you?”

“Actually,” you said quickly. “That was pretty harsh. What would you like me to do?”

“Not take me to the dance.”

You shook your head, smiling. “That’s not how favors work, I’m afraid. Come on, name anything. I’ll do it.”

You couldn’t believe you were doing this for Weems. 

She eyed you suspiciously. “If I go to the Rave’N with you, you’ll do anything I want?”

You resisted the urge to clarify, nodding your head.

“Fine. Pick me up at eight.”

She pushed you out of her dorm, slamming the door in your face. You stood there, bewildered, until you realized you needed to get ready. You had managed to get her to go to a school dance — that was something, right? 

A few hours later, your knuckles rapped against the door twice, and you took a step back. You repeated some assurances to yourself, looking down at your feet until the door opened.

The sight of her took your breath away for a moment.

Wednesday was as beautiful as she had been when you first saw her, her hair pinned back, her lips plump and dark. Her dress was black and elegant, and your heart seized as she met your eyes.

“You look ravishing, darling,” you said, grinning widely as her nostrils flared.

She wanted to throttle you as you stepped inside and said hello to Enid.

“Now, where were we?” you spun to face Wednesday. “I believe you were telling me to rip off my arm and shove it up my ass, correct?”

“Always so crude,” Wednesday muttered, digging through a black backpack. “I told you to burn eternally under the hand of a cruel god.”

“Oh, my bad.”

Enid took a hesitant step forward. “Are you guys going to the dance?”

You shot her a strange look. “Yes.”

Enid stifled a sound of surprise, watching as Wednesday pulled a tube of lipstick from her bag and applied a layer. “Oh. Well, have fun! See you down there!” She slipped between you and shut the door on her way out, leaving you in one of the most awkward situations you had ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

Wednesday looked utterly exasperated as she looked at you. “Well?”

“I, um,” you swallowed. “Are you ready?”

She blinked. “Yes.”

“Okay,” you cleared your throat. “Shall we?”

Wednesday’s arm was in yours as you walked down the stairs, some electro-pop song growing louder and louder with each step you took. You were quite pleased with yourself: you were going to walk in with Wednesday Addams on your arm. Not a big deal.

She stared steadily through her eyebrows as you approached the iced-out hall, ignoring Thornhill and Weems as they greeted you. It didn't take long to find Enid.

To your surprise, Wednesday didn't seem to despise the decor, though she certainly despised most of the attendees. Xavier and Lucas were both subjected to death-glares of the highest caliber.

After you both had a few Yeti-tinis in you, you dragged Wednesday to the dance floor. And then, something unbelievable happened. It was probably rarer than a total solar eclipse, and you didn't think many who had witnessed it had survived.

Wednesday Addams began to dance.

She stared at you unrelentingly as she moved, looking somewhere between a bird doing a mating dance and a teenager possessed with the spirit. You could do nothing but watch, hypnotized, as she danced around you.

You had never seen anyone move so freely. It really was spellbinding, and you could feel the entire dance floor watching her. But she was staring at you.

And then the song was over, and you were left standing and looking at each other again. There was something magical in the air.

Everyone else was lost in the music, already dancing again without a care in the world, and the floor vibrated with the bass, and she looked absolutely ethereal in the blueish light. You didn't know anything, except that you couldn't stop smiling. If you didn't know better, you would've thought she might kiss you.

Something dripped onto your shoulder, and then your head, and then it was raining down. Blood.

In moments, pure chaos broke loose. Screams overpowered the music, the floor turning into a grisly slip-n-slide as people rushed away from the shower.

There was a smile on her face, a smile, a smile on Wednesday Addams’ face. Everyone else was sprinting for the nearest exit, and she was smiling, and you were staring at her.

“Did you do this?” she asked.

You rubbed the back of your neck, face burning with the shame about to come. “No.”

Her face fell, but she would deny it if you ever told anyone. You didn’t plan to. “Oh.” She licked her lip. "They couldn't even spring for real pigs' blood, anyway. It's only paint."

The enchantment drained from the air along with her excitement, and you no longer wanted to be coated in red paint, so you parted ways with her and retreated to your dorm.

The next day, you found yourself in the quad with Wednesday and Enid, assigned to confetti clean-up.

“Aren’t you tired?” you asked.

Wednesday looked at you. “Why would I be tired?”

“You’ve been running through my mind all day,” you grinned, watching the familiar flare of irritation appear in her eyes.

“I’ll hide your body parts all over the country.”

“I’ll sweep you off your feet,” you winked.

“I’ll skin you alive.”

Enid laughed nervously, glancing between the two of you. “Um, no killing, right?”

“She won’t kill me,” you said smugly, leaning back.

Wednesday gritted her teeth, wanting more than ever to slit your throat. “Oh, but how I hate you.”

She stood up, muttering something about needing to write her novel, and stalked away. You smiled to yourself, already reminiscing on the annoyance written all over her face. You started thinking of other cheesy pickup lines — maybe you’d have to watch some rom-coms for inspiration.

Enid said your name, staring at you incredulously. You snapped to attention. “Oh my god, don’t you see it? Wednesday likes you!”

What? You shake your head, laughing slightly. “No, no, she hates me.”

Enid jumped up and down, squealing. “She likes you!”

“No, she doesn’t.”

Grasping your hands in hers, she beamed at you. “Oh wow, this is such a big day. I mean, I didn’t even know if, wow, I didn’t think this was possible! Ooh, this is so exciting!”

“Enid!” you said sharply, glaring at her until she stopped hopping.

“She doesn’t like me, we’re not even really friends. We just prank each other.”

“Did you not see the way she blushed?” she furrowed her eyebrows.

You thought back. Wednesday had glowered at you, jaw clenched. Her skin was as pale as ever. “No?”

“You’re blind,” Enid giggled. “She was like, bright red for her. She so likes you.”

You shook your head again, mind racing. Could it be? You played back every moment you could remember: each prank, each mean-spirited remark, each heated argument. She had never been anything but stone-faced, her tone never anything more than irritated. Why would she like you?

You could’ve laughed — if it were anyone else, you’d never even dream of asking that question. But it was Wednesday. You had accepted that she’d never want anything from you. You had accepted that.

What if she did like you? Did you like her? Well, she was beautiful, obviously. She had exactly your sense of humor. But you had never really liked someone like that. Enough to flirt, to touch, to go a little farther. But in a truly romantic sense? A genuine sense?

Shit. You liked Wednesday.

You rushed out of the quad, ignoring Enid’s excited questions, and stumbled over your feet as you made your way to Wednesday’s dorm. On the way, you tried to figure out the best way to ask her without activating her fight or flight, without getting punched in the nose for being too forward.

You caught your breath for a few seconds before knocking.

“What do you want?” she asked, glare colder than usual.

You smiled sheepishly, remembering how it felt to be swarmed by hungry bees. “I come in peace, I swear.”

“What do you want?” she repeated.

“Can I come in?”

She rolled her eyes, stepping aside with a huff and letting you enter. You glanced at the pile of new black clothes on her bed and turned to face her as she closed the door.

Suddenly, everything you had planned flew right out of your head. “Um, Enid said, Enid said that you like me?”

Wednesday’s eyes widened, her heart thundering in her chest. Of all the things she expected you to say, that was at the absolute bottom of the list.

“I, I don’t know if that’s true,” you said, pretending like your voice wasn’t shaking. You weren’t sure where all of your usual confidence was. “But, I think I like you too.”

Somehow, this was the most terrifying thing you’d ever experienced. Your hands were shaky, your heart beating so fast it could’ve been vibrating, your mouth dry.

Wednesday took a small, hesitant step towards you, her head tilted up. And, after you forgot how to breathe, her lips met yours. They were soft, and warmer than you expected, and gentle as they moved against yours. Your hands found their way to her face, hers gripped your waist. The moment could’ve lasted minutes or hours; it was all the same. It was only you and her.

“Shit,” you breathed as you pulled away, looking at her with blown pupils. Slowly, you grinned. “I knew you were interested.”

“I’m not above burying you alive, you know,” she said, not a hint of emotion in her voice, before pulling you back in for another kiss.

[foressfaction]

Toby Headcanons

First things first, rewrite link —> https://www.wattpad.com/story/330185513-ticci-toby-a-rewrite?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=foressfaction&wp_originator=4ym0kekpamjg%2byu500owdfcdlnhtpkigcby1thrmnvj95d4u%2f2vtey8ihglpowcvuy8icvezeljevfn%2fbufrp

Fair warning, I am the Toby enthusiast so you’re in for a long read. If you actually care enough to read all this, keep in mind there are some triggering topics for well… everything. That’s also including the other links leading to other posts of mine. Read with caution. I go into heavy detail about topics that are usually pretty sensitive.

Family headcanons—> https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/734266713806405633/basic-family-head-canons-for-toby

Operator headcanons—> WIP

Him with Jack—> https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/735560061461594112/my-jack-and-toby-headcanons-theyre-bfs

Him with Natalie—> https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/746264454600278016/toby-and-clockwork-some-headcanon-takes-on-this

Him and Lyra —> WIP

Him and Cross-X—>WIP

The main basics

He can't read, he has always had trouble reading. He can get simple sentences and phrases but actual literature like books, newspapers, or anything over half a paragraph long, he can't read it.

Due to losing his memories, he lost knowledge of what normal people do. He doesn't know social cues that well. You could come up to him and say that you want to be his friend and he'd look like a clueless child.

Never having a friend before, anything of the sort now would make him suspicious of you, or just not trust you.

He has very very bad trust issues, meaning he thinks everyone is out to get him. Which may not be true, though he can't help but think it due to his anxiety.

He is terrified of vehicles, and riding in them. Though he doesn't remember why. His body still reacts with trauma he doesn't recall experiencing.

This is kinda annoying for him.

He can run incredibly fast and has almost unlimited stamina. He knows his limits though and never pushes his body to the extent due to the fact he will lose mobility for the next hour or so trying to regain his breath.This may lead to him potentially passing out.

He will only run to his full abilities if he is in severe danger (or feel he is)

He loves the smell of lavender, it makes him tired and relaxed. It is the only thing that will help him sleep.

He still bites his nails so he sometimes will coat his nails in either nail polish (yes he paints his nails sometimes) or will get that nasty tasting polish. It depends. He's very insecure about his hands and so he will paint his nails to make them look a little better.

Along with the aid of sleep, basic company helps a lot. It would have to be someone he's close with or at least knows to an extent. Just having someone there, regardless of distance or their position in the area, really helps him sleep.

He's easy to make friends with but it'll take some time for him to get used to you. He'd want to know a lot of things first and learn more about you.

His favorite season is fall, and his favorite spice is Parsley. He loves the smell.

He can't cook but if he was to ever help someone with cooking (which…Is a bad idea anyways) he'd probably sprinkle a little parsley in secretly.

He is of German descent but can't speak it. (unless operator is controlling him, in that case he ONLY speaks it)

He has two marks in the shape of the operator symbol on his upper left arm and lower right side. They are scars as they were once carved into the skin and slowly scarred over.

He would be the type of person who would lay his forehead on your cheek and stare waiting for an apology or just if he was in a playful mood.

He also sucks on his candy canes until they are quite literally a deadly weapon.

I feel like he would run up stairs so fast he literally trips up them. This also goes with anytime he needed to run, it's an immediate sprint, no working up speed, no preparing his legs, literally gone- this might cause trip ups occasionally. Imagine getting hit by an axe then you hear footsteps with a loud thud following after.

He isn't very picky with food, I feel he'd eat what normally people wouldn't, like the top piece and last piece of a bread loaf, or spaghettios cold, not warmed. Same with hot dogs, he may not boil the weenie, who knows it depends.

If anyone took the bread crusts off their sandwiches he would eat those alone- i think he likes bread guys.

He probably wets his socks or pillow in the summer to feel cool, sometimes would probably just walk around with a cold wet towel draped over his head.

Lyra would occasionally make fun of him for being shorter than her for most of their childhood until he would have eventually grown taller if she hadn't passed.

He would've gotten back at her.

She definitely picked on him a lot in a playful manner and he'd always overreact. Definitely a stereotypical 'get out of my room' emo kid. He'd definitely be a stoner if we're talking normal mansion au thing. Bro would probably be high 25/8, mainly so he doesn't feel like shit all the time.

He'd meow back or bark back at animals who do so to him. He'd growl at anything growling at him and eventually these would plainly turn into tics. Now he'd just meow or bark/growl out of absolutely no where.

He'd definitely be pretty flexible, upon somehow squeezing into places like cabinets and tiny closets to avoid capture or getting spotted, he had always been pretty maneuverable-?? He'd probably purposely freak people out by doing literal gymnastic poses just out of the blue. I'd imagine he'd break, fracture or pop out of socket bones without knowing it due to not feeling the actual pain of the strain he puts on them. Therefore he ignores it and one day if he just decides to do a backbend then he just goes for it.

He loves peaches and anything peach flavored. Usually when savaging for food, canned peaches are his main target. He would almost completely avoid a store if they had none. He isn't picky at all, of course, but he'd like at least one thing of his personal liking if he's going out of his way to steal it. It HAS to be the canned ones. He doesn't fuckin know how to peel an actual peach? And I figured if anything he'd HATE the fuzzy skin on it and would absolutely have a meltdown. ( based on me). If someone handed him a FULL ASS UNSKINNED peach. He would look at you like 'What am I supposed to do with this….'

I also headcanon that he got his hat from Lyra as when they were younger and she was still alive, she worked at a mailing company sorting the mail. The symbol on the hat looks like a yellow envelope. She gave it to him when she quit so he could wear it and stuff.

He'd absolutely love spiderman and silly things like star wars and transformers. He's definitely more of a Marvel guy and probably owns/owned tons of spiderman themed clothing.

Toby would always comfort Lyra after her rough days at work. I feel she'd fall asleep on the couch immediately after sitting down. He would crawl up beside her and just curl up against her, also falling asleep. She'd always wake up before him and take him to bed soon after.

I feel he would have trouble making eye contact but it's for a completely different reason than most. It's not because he's awkward but because he genuinely doesn't know how to look at someone. Unless its a partner or a really close friend. He will avoid eye contact at least for too long. If he's actually able to hold contact with someone that's a sign he's growing comfortably that they wont hurt him.

It stems from his father shaming him for just looking at the man the wrong way anf sometimes that led to physical disputes that he wishes to avoid from any possible individual. He has a natural resting bitch face so it's not hard to mistake his look as something spiteful.

When he stutters it's not a tic, it has nothing to do with his TS, it's just a speech impediment and is very VERY insecure about it because of how many times he's been called annoying or told to just 'hurry up and say it, i don't have time for this', something along those lines.

- His tics include facial grimaces, snapping his fingers or jaws every now and then, hitting himself, or others around pretty hard, tapping his foot or whistling. He will blurt random ass shit as well (this i will sometimes add into the rp, it can be kinda funny, sometimes inappropriate) ex: "suck my loli" or "shitty shoe" shit like that.

- Appearance wise, nothing really changed. His eye color did however. Instead of that dark brown, it's a hazel green. He's probably around 5'6 overall. Plus he's extremely frail and unhealthy. He is covered and when i say covered, I mean covered in freckles. Shoulders, arms and his face are where they really are noticeable. Like normal, his hair is the same, dark and frizzy. It has a little bit of curl to it but mainly it's just wavy and fluffy.

-He still bites his hands since he's never really broken that habit, so you'd never really see him without bandages on his hands.

-Personality wise, he's pretty feral. Even as a teenager. He can be stalker-ish and weird. He's still pretty damn timid though since..hello social anxiety.

Toby is extremely neurodivergent. He stims and tics all of the time. He can't handle certain smells, tastes, textures. Specifically wet hands on any cold dry surface, or per say, chewing on a piece of steak or anything chewy for more than 6 seconds MAX. He can't have food touching and has to use multiple forks/spoons/knives when he has a meal.

-Toby can't stand the sight of his own blood. It causes him to break down and literally freak out. He has a strange phobia of organs and bones of his own coming out of where they shouldn't be. He is very sensitive with wounds in the torso area due to this exact organ phobia.

(He's had dreams where he literally had to hold his organs inside so they wouldn't fall out.

🌿Appearance Headcanons🌿

[F]He pretty much stayed the same, originally, he started with just a few freckles here and there, but how i see him, a full face of freckles, and all over him, arms, back, neck, just everywhere. This also goes for scars. He has lots of rather unique ones. Especially on his back. He has two deep gash scars right on his shoulder blades that look like he once had wings. At least that's how he wants to see it.

[F] His teeth had kinda been crooked from all of the pressure onto them throughout his childhood and due to his teeth actually getting knocked out when he was little. (his baby teeth of course) his adult teeth never really wanted to grow in right.

- I find it better if he is 19-25years old, him as any older kinda feels weird to me since i am used to portraying him as a late teen or in his early/mid twenties. This really depends on how he'll be used and the story i will go by

- His hair is still the same. Still a dark chocolate brown. It's just a lot messier, or well, very fluffy With a few curls.

- He is still very pale but still slightly more tan than how he is originally, his skin has a pastel peach light tone (just a normal pale person) and not like the light grey people usually see him as.

-His face is very scarred, but the one that stands out the most is the iconic tear, or gash in his right cheek. It exposes muscle, and his teeth from the side. It's very disgusting so he keeps hidden with masks, or bandages.

Visage and wardrobe

Adding this in last second but I feel his closet is FULL with brown grunge grey and green flannels and layered shirts and grandpa sweaters. He’s your average grunge Pinterest guy you’d find on every corner of the internet but he’s stylish unconsciously. He throws shit together he thinks looks good and apparently it actually does. One day he’d be rocking a fire fit and the next he looks like he came right out of a dumpster as most of his older clothes are torn and sheared up from well… living where he does. He prefers layers no matter what season it is but will occasionally wear sleeveless stuff and shorts. Probably owns a few shark themed pieces and along with what I said earlier. Some marvel and other stuff. Probably from the kids section who knows honestly. All of the tags on his clothes are faded.

- https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/743158587608727552/while-im-on-art-block-heres-some-stupid-shit-toby

Persona🌿

His personality is pretty much the same. He's a little more timid though. He actually has a big heart, despite him being a potential serial killer, he still has a few soft spots and a heart. He will care and love for someone, but in order to really earn his trust, someone would have to repeatedly prove that they are worthy of it. He's literally insane, meaning he can be really up and active in a hypomanic way. He's pretty childish around those he knows, but doesn't trust those he doesn't, in fact, those he doesn't know will most likely be ignored or get small, nervous/annoyed responses. He's easy to make friends with since his persona is very passive, he's really sweet in some situations and the next he'd be having a mental breakdown or some kind of manic attack.

-He's very jumpy and easily startled, and would most likely flinch or try to shield himself if someone moves too fast around him. This is due to his trauma and slight PTSD.

-He is touch starved, meaning when he does get affection he'd get extremely confused, weirded out or just plainly get emotional. He didn't get much love and was reminded daily that he was a sack of shit and he finds it hard to believe anyone would love him.

Canonically, he never had a sexuality, meaning he could be any sexual orientation you want. For me, he is Biromantic/Asexual. For him, relationships would have to move slowly, not just kiss kiss fall in love type of shit. You'd have to become his friend first, and of course be loyal and such. It isn't easy at all for him to fall into a relationship, in fact that's the last thing on his mind. Since he believes he is unlovable, no one would even like him in such a way, so he gives up and just sticks to what he has to do.

[Fluffy HC!]

-If the whole mansion concept is being used, he would definitely be very dramatic and really in character if he was to roleplay or play a game with Sally. If he was given a role he will make sure he fills it as accurately as possible just to make her happy. He has a soft spot for children obviously. Unless The Operator is in control.

-If he is good friends or in a relationship with someone, he will generate a nickname based off of your appearance. It would usually consist of cute characteristics he sees in you, and sometimes he'll base it off of your personality. If not, if he's feeling silly, he'll call you a nickname based on random objects. "How's my favorite frying pan this morning?"

Romance?

Toby thinks love is just a fantasy, and no one could love him, much less return the feelings, so love is the last thing on his mind. Though he thinks about what it would be like to have a partner

-He would be so emotional if he even gets a hug, much less feelings being confessed, or confessing his own but Toby may accidentally slip it out, or tell them just to get it off his chest and carry on like it means nothing but on the inside he knows it does and will beat himself up about it

-I think he'd definitely act differently as well, especially his tics would act up more as well around them because he's really nervous and maybe say random things to shoo off the feeling like nothing was there to begin with.

Habits

- He still bites his nails and inner cheek but does it when he's really stressed or nervous. He's really fidgety so he'd mess with anything loose or even would twirl his hair, soon he did it so much his hair got used to it and began to get slightly curly but mostly just wavy.

- [F]He grits his teeth a lot. He'll do it randomly.

-[F] His ADHD still affects him now, so it's hard for him to focus on one thing at once and gets easily distracted. Its a bad habit

Mentality🌿

- Nothing really changed. He still suffers with his disabilities, just some stopped affecting him as much after he reached 17 originally. Being schizophrenia and Anxiety. But this headcanon still suffers with those two despite his age. This explains why he can see the operator, which brings me to the next change.

He had suffered from Schizophrenia since he was 7 years old. So he's been seeing this entity his whole life. Making so much happen and of course all of the deaths in his life was blamed upon the entity.

- [F]Since he cannot feel pain, there is a high chance that he could have hurt himself very badly and not know. So every now and then he does check ups on himself, especially after something brutal happened or had gotten into a fight. He could be perfectly fine one second ago then faint due to blood loss and wake up not even knowing what happened. This is really hard for him since a really bad wound that could grow fatal could be anywhere and he wouldn't know. So a check up on himself here and there could really save his ass.

Story🌿

- Everything pretty much stayed the same. The deaths, the conflicts. The only thing that really changed was the cause of the deaths.

- However, after the ending, where the fire nearly took his life, he couldn't remember anything on why he was there, or how he ended up in this situation. He blacked out and woke up in a whole different area of the dense forest. He no longer remembered a thing but every time he'd try and get close to coming back to the past, it would all happen again.

- He never remembered anything, even after he had murdered someone, in fact he doesn't even like doing that. He despises the fact that he should murder innocent people, however sometimes, he will see the face of a man he hated so dearly but didn't remember why.

-Amongst the crime scene, after he had murdered someone, he'd sit and stare at what he had done, a huge moment of lucidity would take over him, making everything come back for those few moments. Then his mind would wipe blank once again and he'd go on like nothing ever happened. During those moments, he'd regret spilling the blood of the victim, and hate on himself even more, while violent memories and thoughts ran through his mind, making him feel less and less stable. This sometimes knocked him out, and he'd be there, unconscious at the scene which isn't good since that's how ya get caught and arrested.

He lives in a small shed in the middle of Rosswood Park/forest. His shed is deep deep in the woods, he had never lived in the mansion. (might will make something work for roleplay use)

Before anything, these are just my changes and adjustments I made to either fit a better way of my liking/needs and to just plainly make more sense.

Disorder list and how it all affects him.

Tourettes Syndrome

A shared headcanon: Toby has coprophilia (uncontrolled cursing), which is actually an uncommon symptom, but seeing that he was unfit for public school, it would make sense in his case. Most tics are not debilitating (but can be discomforting, obviously), so Toby’s TS must be an extreme case. So my headcanon of his verbal tics being coprophilia makes sense. He is an extreme case and has complex verbal tics (coprophilia is classified as a complex phonic tic and not a simple phonic tic). This was one of the reasons he was unfit for public school, along with being bullied for his motor tics. It doesn’t mention anything about him having verbal tics in his story or implying that he has coprophilia—but again, Wade did not know much about TS, so I headcanon him to have it as it makes more sense. He also seems to just have simple motor tics (generally brief movements involving spasmodic, non-rhythmic muscle contractions) ie. jerking his head and other limbs occasionally. However, since he was unfit to go to normal school and therefore should be an extreme case, I headcanon him to also have complex motor tics (more purposeful movements such as: grimacing, tapping, walking in a specific pattern or circling, jumping, kicking, or punching), mainly kicking and punching/hitting and slapping. This would make much more sense because tho he still would probably get made fun of for just simple motor tics, that alone shouldn’t stop him from being too unfit for regular school. His are obviously chronic and do not disappear as he gets older, unlike with many cases.

-So there are my headcanons on his TS and tics. They make much more sense, and if Wade had actually known about TS more, would probably be what they would have given him. I’m not entirely sure if you can have both simple and complex tics of the same type, but I don’t see why not, so I headcanon him to have both simple and complex motor and phonic tics. His simple verbal tics include clearing his throat, grunting and other short repetitive noises. Typically he usually grunts and makes said repetitive noises more but will compulsively clear his throat, sometimes with coughing, from time to time. Said repetitive noises often happen while trying to speak and will act up if he is nervous or very excited. His complex phonic tics, like I stated before, is coprolalia along with sømetimes muttering or shouting random words spontaneously.

Again, his complex verbal tics act up when he is nervous or very excited etc. He tends to curse randomly while talking and sometimes will say random words which sometimes makes it very difficult for him to talk and make coherent sentences. Cursing is his more common complex verbal tic while sputtering random words is less common for him. Most days it isn’t too bad and he mostly just swears when talking (along with all his other tics but I’m focusing on how it affects his speech right now), but sometimes he’ll have days where talking is very difficult and he stutters trying to get the words out and can’t make coherent sentences. Again, it gets even worse when he’s nervous or very excited. For his simple motor tics, he mainly jerks and cracks his neck along with jerking his other limbs in weird ways that often cause his joints to pop and make a cracking sound.

Sometimes they’re violent enough that if he could feel pain it would hurt him and occasionally injuring himself cause ie. tearing or pulling a muscle (which is shit as he can’t feel pain so doesn’t notice anything is wrong most of the time). Again, like always, these tend to get worse and act up when he’s nervous or very excited. Often when cracking and jerking his head he will also grunt or make said repetitive noise as he does so. His complex motor tics include throwing things, punching, slapping, hitting and kicking either himself, anything and anyone he can reach or is close to him, and if nothing is around, the air itself. These are less frequent than his simple motor tics, but as he is an extreme case, they are still a common occurrence for him. Again, like all his other tics, they tend to act up when he’s nervous or very excited, but not as much as all the others. His simple motor tics act up more when he’s nervous or very excited more than his complex motor tics. When they do act up more, which ones tend to depend on how he’s feeling. If he’s feeling stressed, nervous or sad, he tends to hit or punch, kick slap, ‘hurt’ himself more. If he’s angry it’s a mix of hitting, slapping and punching himself along with kicking, punching and throwing nearby things. If the emotions are positive he tends to backhand anything that might be nearby, just doing that motion if there’s nothing to hit, throwing things, kicking his legs out or slapping himself in the face, and occasionally punching if he’s really happy or excited. He must be careful cause he tends to punch nearby people in the face when that happens, most of the time pretty hard. He always feels super bad whenever that happens and tries to hit himself instead so he doesn’t punch someone in the face when excited. Sometimes if his tics, mainly his complex motor tics, are acting up badly, he’ll drop down on the floor and roll around a bit as he hits the ground and air and lets everything out in a little fit. It’s best to quickly move him to an opener area if he can feel a bad tic fit coming on so he can lay down where he’s not going to hit or throw anyone/anyone. It’s best to just let him get it out unless it’s partially violent and he’s in danger of hurting himself (jerking too hard etc.) or if he’s doing it to himself particularly hard and violently. He is an extreme case so he tics everyday, but some days, if he’s really lucky, it won’t happen too often and will mostly just have simple tics that don’t get in the way of day to day life too badly. On the other hand, he can have very bad days where his tics act up, his complex tics especially, where they happen very frequently and he can’t make it stop or slow down and has multiple violent tic fits where he usually ends up breaking and destroying a lot of things and hurting himself, sometimes pretty badly, especially since he cannot feel it and will try to direct things towards himself instead of whatever’s around him. And yeah, those are my headcanons on Toby’s TS and different tics. I headcanon him to be an extreme case (since that would make the most sense given how he’s supposed to not be fit for normal school since it’s that bad). I also headcanon it to actually get worse as he grows up, especially as his mental health deteriorates. I could probably go on about this more but I’ve rambled enough and I think I kinda went on a bit long, so I’ll try and stop myself here now.

ADHD

He does have ADHD, meaning he usually has sudden outbursts of energy. He shows this by getting easily distracted during times he should be occupied by one thing, instead he'd be interested in literally everything else but what he should be. Because of this, he wasn't fit for school, or anything of the such.

He doesn't take medicine for this, since he can't exactly get his hands on it, or thinks that he needs it.

He lets out his energy by running around in an open space, pacing back and forth, tapping or scratching with his fingers, or tapping his foot/bouncing his leg. Usually his ADHD acts up more when he's excited or trying to concentrate. He bites his nails because of it as well.

He can't focus on one thing at once, and would be distracted by the littlest things like a lizard on a tree, or even a bug flying around his face. He'd stop what he was doing before and focus more on that other than what he should be focusing on. He never exactly thought of it as something bad but usually he'd forget what he was doing before and that something could have been important.

Dermatophagia

note: Dermatophagia is what's known as a body-focused repetitive behavior (BFRB). It goes beyond just nail biting or occasionally chewing on a finger. It's not a habit or a tic, but rather a disorder. People with this condition gnaw at and eat their skin, leaving it bloody, damaged, and, in some cases, infected.

This was a lot worse when he was younger, but he still does it as he grows up. It can get so bad that he has to wrap his hands up by himself and fight the urge to feel the skin in between his teeth. He doesn't just bite his own hands however, he does it to his arms randomly. He'd bite into any of his arms for some odd reason but never hard enough to make them bleed. This of course depends on how hard he bites into them. This happens when he is usually upset in any way, and takes the anger out on himself or a nearby flat surface, like a wall or table.

This harms him badly, but since he can't feel it, he doesn't know when to stop, making this 10 times worse than any normal case. He's gone as far as to nearly gnaw off the skin of his knuckle, exposing the muscle underneath, almost to the bone. This isn't as bad as when he was younger, but when he gets upset in a way, he will still struggle with the problem of gnawing on his hands

I am missing some here, that being BPD, Schizophrenia, psychosis, and autism. I’m aware some are just mere disabilities but I want to do more research before I go into these sensitive topics.

Some more smaller posts with undocumented headcanons

- https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/746629900867371008/so-i-headcanon-toby-to-be-a-phat-stoner-so

- https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/744151888116711424/i-have-so-much-on-this-dude-hes-been-through

- https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/748800526075985920/another-day-another-essay-toby-is-a-closed-off

[freakywrites]

Play dress up

Kanato Sakamaki x you

Summary- ….kanato dresses you up? (DUH)

Can be read as fem reader, but anyone can wear a dress, so idk go crazy (*´-`)

Warning: UNEDITED - This isn’t really meant to be a romance, but like killing stalking romanticize it as you wish (jk!… it’s…it’s a joke) abuse!! he probably has u held captive - I think that's it?? One curse word???

Art made by me *im proud of it so praise me* (jk bit I did draw it like 5 in the morning so leave it be)

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Your stomach churns as you try to still your already fast beating heart and suppress the shaking fear you felt.

Sitting on a purple velvet chair you watched nervously as the violet haired creep delicately painted your nails, a sapphire blue. His big and dull eyes fixated on your hand that rested in his deadly pale ones, God forbid you even whimper when he makes a mistake and scratches rather harshly at your fingers.

“Doesn’t this color look good on her, Teddy?” Kanato spoke to the bear on your lap. “ I think so...” He mumbles to himself before blowing on the wet polish. “there you go! my doll looks too pretty~” he praised, and you could shiver at his nickname for you a reminder that you are nothing more than a toy to him. You're a living breathing doll he can treat however he likes with no pity or remorse.

The slim man grabbed your beaten up calf. You nearly yelped as he pressed gently at the fresh blue bruise and cuts, maybe testing for a reaction just so he was an excuse to get violent, but it's not like he needed one. Putting your foot so gently on his knee, he finally looked up at you, his eyes sending a cold wave over your body, his smile exposing those white fangs of his that hurt just by looking at them. “See? You look lovely in blue.” He spoke with such glee, almost taunting and playing with you, for he knows if you try to even push him away, he can force you back into submission.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? Do you hate it?” His mood shifted and his smile dropped to a snarl nails digging at your skin. Opening your dry mouth, you spoke. “I like it.” A simple sentence sending him back to his toothy grin. “I’m glad because I like it too!” He gleefully spoke, loosening his grip on you.

He painted your toe nails next, and you hear the alarms in your head ring. A few days ago he was shaving your legs pressing a little to tightly he sliced your skin and as a reaction to the pain you yelped and kicked away only for him to grab you in anger yelling insults and cut at your skin till you where covered in red dripping beads of blood that he will lick at. But today, he had no weapons with him other than his teeth and hands

Before you knew it, he was done with his little forced manicure and pulled out a dress that was on the side of a table. He turned to you and spoke, "Come here." You reluctantly got up off your seat shifting a bit as you felt your sore muscles and skin ache like your whole body was one big bruise and with every step was a throbbing pain sent from your feet to your head.

"Do you know what kind of dress this is?" He spoke as be pressed it to your body. You would roll your eyes and sigh if that action wouldn't lead him to poke your eyes out with a needle or something. You spoke "u-um blue?" What an idiotic answer for an idiotic question. "Wrong! It's a dress modeled after the ones of the 1870s." He said, leaning into your face his tired eyes looking to your nervous ones. "I got it costumly made for you, so it'll fit you perfectly." You stare back at him and gulp down any of your insults.

You were finally dressed corset on not so tightly and flat velvet shoes on because he knows your feet hurt? For a guy that beats the shit out of you often, he has a weird way to care for you. While you stare in the full body mirror, you were surprised the dress was very beautiful and detailed black lace on the edges of the short sleeve and a v-neck that exposes your neck and colorbones probably for easy access but to top it of Kanato places a tear drop amethyst necklace with a chain of your preferred type of metal. How did he know that was your favorite?You hold the jewel in your hand, running your finger on the chain.

"Do you like it?" He said as he hugged at his teddy. And you nodded, tilting your head as you admire yourself before you spoke.

"...yes its...beautiful."

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A/N: ah yess diabolik lovers one of my first animas next to black butler.... yeah now I know why I had fucked up morales at the age of like 12.

Also got into it again cuz I reacently started watching itMustBeK8 and they watched like diabolik like a 2 years ago- BUT IM NOT OVER MY FUCKED UP VAMP DUDES IDC. AND go watch them they are one of the reasons im going through the week 🙄

Anyways love yall XOXO 💋

[thedemises]

. . .  PAINTING NAILS (BY FORCE)! featuring mephistopheles!

contains! . . . lowercase writing, obey me! shall we date?, some swearing here and there, mephistopheles being a little jerk, probably ooc! mephistopheles cuz idk much about his character-, mc is a human-ram hybrid (having ears, horns, and some other characteristics and traits of a ram), mc is gender neutral, mc is strong?, mephisto being rammed over 💀 (no mepmep was injured in the making of this scenario), does "bloody hell" count as swearing?, got too lazy during the ending so it's kinda rushed 😔, mentioned the demon brothers, simeon, raphael, luke, and solomon! notes! . . .  an idea by me and good ol' buddy @ringdabel during a chat of ours that switched from talking about satan to his nails to the other characters to the painted nails of all the obey me characters (except for the angels, mephistopheles, and solomon)👍👍

mephistopheles feels like he ran a marathon but then he has the urge to run another mile because— bloody hell, why is that puny human exchange student so fast?

he, as a noble, never needed to run as much as he would need to in his whole life of existing. already having dozens of quite expensive cars in the ready to transport him with a snap of his fingers—but for some reason mephistopheles felt like running on foot like as if cerberus is hot on his tail was a good option.

wrong.

while most humans don't have much stamina and speed in the first place unless they train hardly for it, from what he had read, there's some others that are given the gift of incredible speed or the natural ability of endurance and stamina. rarely, even both.

and clearly enough—this peasant human, the HUMAN who managed to gain the pacts of all of the seven deadly sins AND survive a whole year in a realm where demons roam and most more likely to eat humans—was this close to snatching the tail cape of his attire off.

“COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHI—”

(well, the said human was turned into a human-ram hybrid when they were transferred to devildom in the first place, so that might've made their speed increase a bit more than an average human's speed—being half ram, after all).

“STOP chasing me, you human peasant!” he makes a sharp turn around a corner, letting his legs take him to demon-lord-knows-where, “i am NOT letting some rubbish paint be applied on my fingernails!!”

with loud yelling responding from behind his back, you declared, “NOT UNTIL YOU COMMIT TO HAVING YOUR NAILS BE PAINTED!!”

mephistopheles doesn't dare to look behind as he kept running in different directions, seemingly beginning to be out of breath when his pace grows irregularly.

the chase eventually doesn't last as long as he expected it to be when he was cornered in a room and then suddenly got rammed to the ground and was pinned down by the forced added weight on his chest, leaving him no other choice than to give up or attempt to resist it.

“KEEP YOUR FLITHY HANDS OFF OF ME!!” a low growl rumbles from his throat with his gritted teeth shown while he attempts to thrash around but you somehow prevent the demon from moving by holding him firmly, restraining his head by wrapping your dominant arm around the noble's neck as you pin down his arms with the other arm of yours.

“not until you let me paint your nails.”

“tch. why is getting my fingernails painted such a big deal to you, human?!” scoffing in disbelief at your insistence, the magenta-haired male tries pushing your body off his back but you don't budge a bit by your stubbornness.

damn, how come you're strong too? aren't humans supposed to be weak?!

“because,” you start, bringing a gloved hand of his closer to you as you inspect it, “doesn't lord diavolo have painted nails? heck, even barbatos and the seven brothers have their nails painted.”

ending your sentence with a determined toothy grin and one of your ram ears flicking a bit, you added, “besides, i think you'll look great with green-ish teal nail polish.”

mephistopheles clicked his tongue at that following a slight eye roll, scowling when you touched the dark patch of the back of his hair, “so? it'll be covered up when I wear my gloves either way, so it's useless and a waste of time.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

after a bit of eventual bickering, pleading, and some reluctance, mephisto finally agrees to your begging persuading with a, “... fine. but be quick about it though.”

turns out, painting your nails is a long, time-consuming process.

currently inside your room in the house of lamentation (who knows how you sneaked him inside without alerting the others), different nail polishes of varied colors were placed aside as both of you sat comfortably on your bed. as you held his now naked hand (after you told him to take his glove off) while carefully painting his nails in a cool green-ish teal color after prepping them and adding a base coat to make the pigment look better in the outcome, the demon sat in front of you with his legs folded underneath his thighs while resting his buttocks on the heels of his feet, his left arm outstretched to you.

during the mostly silent process, mephistopheles' black eyebrows were furrowed with his chin held slightly upwards as his eyes narrowed with skepticism and they held slight impatience but he didn't say anything. until now.

“why'd you want me to wear nail polish?... human.” his voice trailed off for a second, watching you finish painting his middle finger's nail before moving onto the next digit. response to the question, you shrugged your shoulders.

“don't know. the thought of you not wearing nail polish like the others irritated me—though simeon, raphael, luke, and solomon also don't wear nail polish either; so im gonna do their nails next after you.”

“by ramming into them?”

“no, but you were running away from me so i had no other choice.”

eventually, you finished painting all of the nails of his left hand and let him inspect the finished product before doing his other hand—observing the slightest changes in his expression while you waited for his acknowledgment.

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...” blinking at his freshly painted fingernails, mephistopheles doesn't speak out loud while he examines his teal-colored nails in silence.

then his eyes, hued a gradient of pear green and chartreuse, glanced up to stare back at you with the slightest satisfaction before darting to the side as the slightest flush appears on his cheeks and the demon nods his head at you slightly.

“... it looks awful.”

taken off guard, you took full offense to this unpleasant reaction. “excuse me? bitch, I took the time to chase you down, ram into you, paint your nails for a painstakingly long time, and this is how you thank me?”

“well i— ... i think it's alright.. i guess.” slightly startled by the sudden shift of attitude, he finally replies that gives you some satisfactory and the demon moves his hand to remove the other glove that his right hand is still wearing until he was eruptedly halted by you grabbing his wrist. “don't,” you firmly told him, dragging it to you and lightly tugged at the edge of his glove, “let the nail polish on your other hand set first for about one to two (1-2) hours before you do anything with it. now, may i?”

the demon's eyelids widened at the extended amount of time before they relaxed and he nodded with his ears turning slightly reddish at the last sentence, giving you permission to take off his glove for him—which you did, peeling it off from his wrist to the fingertips.

with his hand now bare, you begin doing the same prepping process like you did to his other hand before applying nail polish—letting the base coat set for two minutes beforehand and then, painting on the teal colored polish with patience and precise precision; not allowing the green apple-eyed demon to move from his spot (meanwhile, he was just uncharacteristically quietly observing while you worked on his nails—not that he'd admit it to your face or anything).

eventually after a long time, completing the progress of painting mephistopheles' green-ish teal nails and the drying process, you were finished.

after putting your supplies away, you sigh in relief as you flop backwards onto the soft mattress of your bed with your arms sprawled out—not paying attention to the magenta-haired noble in front of you—and closed your eyes.

“finally...” you murmur, making the demon glance at you with an arched eyebrow, “you were a pain in the ass to begin with but at least im finished.”

this ticked off mephistopheles quite a bit, “oi, oi, oi... i stayed completely still for you, peasant! is this how you react after pestering me to paint my nails?!”

“yeah, yeah... whatever.. you can kindly get out of my room now before any of the brothers—especially lucifer—find you, goodnight.”

“h- hey! don't just order me around like you can, human!- OI!!! don't ignore me!! AND DON'T FALL ASLEEP EITHER!!”

“zzZzzZzzzzzZzz...”

© thedemises 2024. all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, or claim as your own. ━━  word count: 1,436.

[stopaskinf]

“I think we can last forever.”

Things Ateez boys remind me of:

Summary: This is the part.2 of my series of “things kpop idols reminds me of”

Genre: Fluff, Ateez hyung line

Word count: 1K

CW: Honestly, there are a few suggestive lines in this, but other than that nothing much. (MDNI on my page in general)

A/N: This one is more casual than my BTS reminders. Honestly don’t know how I feel about this, but hope yall enjoy.🫡

Hongjoong:

🪲Scorpions: It might have to do with the fact that he is canonically a Scorpio, but also the contrasting idea that something so small can be so prickly and deadly when it wants to be. 

🪲To add to that thought: Hongjoong reminds me of bug lollipops. Specifically ones with scorpions, spiders, and beetles. Combining the sweet, childlike flavors and colors of lollipops with the primal fear and disgust people have of bugs screams Hongjoong to me. Maybe it's the deadliness transparent beneath the sugary outside.

🪲Smoke, specifically cigarette smoke. I’m not sure if he smokes in real life or not, but he always gives me the vibe that he smells of nicotine and Jean Paul Gaultier cologne. Imagine he takes a break during an interview and he just has a Marlboro between his fingers that he steps out as the staff calls him back to continue his captain duties. 

🪲Additionally, this is very specific but I feel like he has a tad minty smell to him. Even if he does or doesn’t smoke, I feel like he’s the type to always have gum on him. Type of guy who needs to be prepared for any situation and to calm his nerves.  He also may have an oral fixation

🪲 Chipped nail polish. I feel like he’s been seen with chipped nails before. However, I cannot remember. It’s pretty self-explanatory; his love of queer and androgynous figures combined with being an idol on top of his bad sense of self-care leads to chipped nails. 

Seonghwa: 

🐇Lofi beats: The aesthetic of his Lego building lives is this. Additionally, whenever I see him, I feel like he’s the type who needs something lowkey in a lot of moments. He needs something almost comforting after he finishes his work. 

🐇 Anime endings: The same reasoning applied to Lofi beats applies to this. A constant need for something more soft and sweet. Almost melancholy and quiet when compared to the bright energy of their openings. It’s something to signal that there’s no need to put in more energy because you’ve already completed what you needed to. 

🐇 Polaroids: Another thing that I’m pretty sure has been attached to either him or Ateez. I feel like Seonghwa if given the time, would be good at photography. Polaroid cameras would be his favorite because of their easy portability and the intimacy of it. He can just pull it out any moment and take a beautiful candid shot that he can keep hung up in his room. Something that he took himself and gets to keep. 

🐇 Valentino perfumes- this one is pretty simple. Valentino prides itself on their gender-neutral scents so it makes sense that Seong Hwa gets associated with it. Specifically, the Uomo born in Roma perfume reminds me of him. Genderless, sleek, and subtly powerful. 

🐇 Cute keychains - Seonghwa looks to love cute things. He’s also constantly on the move, so cute keychains seem up his alley. Something small from a lover that he can carry around as a sign of devotion and affection. Something superficially cute but to him holds a silent love story.

Yunho:

🌼 High school crushes - The type of guy you see in class once and you instantly get attracted. He’s tall, sweet, friendly. Everything you could want in a high school boyfriend. He’s a little awkward and uncoordinated, but the small things like walking you to and from your classes and sitting with you at lunch? Makes every flaw unnoticeable. 

🌼 Headphones - He seems like the type who likes to enclose himself. Specifically, with music. The ability to focus and lose himself within the melodies and lyrics refreshes him. Especially when he’s listening to a song that reminds him of his lover.

🌼Anime love interest - He feels like a shoujo ML. The guy who is desired by all, but had by only one. The tall, beautiful man who calmly introspects and throws himself into vulnerability. He is the type of guy who looks at you and says, “I like you way more than you think…” He has the type of love that feels pure, almost everlasting. 

🌼 That one ML manhwa sweater - Y’all know exactly what sweater I’m talking about. This connects to the anime love interest in that he feels too good to be true. The guy who you’ve always dreamed about, but thought was unrealistic. Additionally, whenever I see comfy sweaters, it always reminds me of him. He needs to wear something comfortable to keep himself cozy and soft. Oh, and to make sure you have something to borrow from him. 

🌼Old white sneakers - Yunho feels nostalgic. The type of person who gladly accepts change and challenges because he sees them as a sign of love. To be loved is to be changed. He’ll wear his scars and rough edges with pride, for you shaped him.

Yeosang:

🍄Green - This is mostly due to his crazy form hair and that one SCRUMPTIOUS bouncy shirt. However, it’s also because he reminds me of nature. He has an almost fairy/nymph-like quality. The beautiful face lures you deeper and deeper into the woods, only to trap you within its beautiful prison. You’re both moths to each other’s flame. 

🍄London blue - This color feels elegant, almost regal. It gives the feeling of something encased within time but also out of it. Something that feels freighting and mysterious when it encompasses a house, though that quality makes it even more alluring. 

🍄 Music boxes - Yeosang reminds me of very material but immaterial things. A small dancer frozen in time that only shows their beauty when called upon. Something delicate but sturdy. Beautiful, but skittish. 

🍄 Precious little moments - Another thing that is immaterial and a little silly. Something about those little porcelain figures with their big eyes and warm but stagnant smiles. It’s familiar, friendly, but immovable. 

🍄Faded scraps/scabs - This is different when compared to the rest. They’re little blemishes that tell long-ago stories. You fell on concrete when you were a child, you accidentally cut yourself with a knife, or you fell out of a tree. Moments that brought so much pain that it’s engraved onto you. Something that seemed so harrowing, but now you hardly notice. Unless someone else points it out, of course.

[hhawks]

LIKE AN OLD CARDIGAN.

✰ starring: shigaraki tomura x fem!reader ✰ synopsis: you are the lamplight left on in the hallway when tomura comes home. ✰ content: soft shiggy loving hours. i miss him ✰ warnings: none. love. fluff as fluff can get ✰ word count: 2.1k ✰ author's note: hi it's hera. yeah i know. pretty lazy of me to just be posting old patreon content but it be how it be. i'm in my sad hours right now just thinking about coming home to my girlfriend and i thought about this fic. i don't know. hope u like it. goodnight

it’s late when he comes home.

to be fair, it always is. shigaraki has never had the luxury of choosing his work hours. it’s always dark, the moon hanging high in the navy night as he turns the lock of the meagre apartment he shares with you, the one he’d choose over his paranormal liberation front-mandated penthouse any day. the welcome mat is old and shoddy, but he remembers the day you picked it out together, looking through various designs online.

he doesn’t expect you to be awake when he comes home. it’s late, almost quarter past two, the light from the hallway lamp still on, illuminating the small home with a warm, homely orange. it buzzes and fuzzes at the edges, and he wonders if he needs to change the lightbulb. shigaraki drops his coat and his bags at the door and staggers his way through his home, your home.

exhaustion courses through his veins, turning his legs to lead. his footfalls are heavy, almost dragging along the hardwood floors, and he’s almost sure he’s trailing blood like a snail trail. his? some pro hero? he doesn’t know. genuinely, he doesn’t care. all he wants is a hot bath, and you.

you. you, you, you, who throws yourself into his arms every chance you get, never minding his deadly touch. you, who kisses his temple when he has a headache. you, who sing to him when he can’t sleep. shigaraki felt like a fool thinking you would love him the way he loved you, and still does believing that you’re telling the truth. but when your voice is sweet, thick and rich like honey, it’s hard to colour your words in anything other than candour.

when shigaraki reaches the door of your bedroom, he hesitates. he sees his hands, calloused and rough and pale. he hates the sight of them, the destruction they cause, the fact that he can’t hold you with all five fingers, skin against skin. the black nail polish he begrudgingly let you paint his nails with is chipping away, and he finds himself wanting to ask you to touch them up for him. he twists the doorknob to your bedroom, letting himself in.

shigaraki comes home to this sight almost every night, and yet he can never stop the way his breath gets caught in his throat, the way his heart aches to be next to yours. the dim light from the hallway creeps towards you slowly through the crack in the door, and it feels almost invasive the way it dares to trespass into your vicinity, onto your bed. warm orange fills the room with a soft glow, and there he spots pachinko and chico curled at the foot of your bed. he lets his eyes wander further and further up until he takes you in. soft and gentle and cuddled up to his side of the bed, your legs splayed just slightly.

“tomura?” he hears, your voice trimmed with sleep. that’s right. outside he’s shigaraki. he’s the embodiment of all for one, he’s a monster with the world in his hands. but in here, in this bedroom, he’s tomura.

tomura keeps looking at you as you turn around, barely roused from your sleep. “tomura, oh,” you murmur, covers rustling as you get up. “i must’ve fallen asleep, i…”

“i’m sorry i woke you up,” he mumbles. “you should sleep. ‘s late.”

the bed dips as you move, sitting where he stands, your legs folded under you. “no,” you shake your head, a small smile growing on your face. “wanted to see you home.”

tomura shakes. tomura trembles, his lip quivering as he lifts a bloodied hand, covered in soot and grime and someone else’s demise and places it on the side of your head. his thumb soothes the patch of skin under your ear, careful to leave his pinky up as he cradles your face. “i’m home.” his voice is gruff and tired, chock full of phlegm and the torrent of his day.

he used to be conscious about the dirt he tracked into the house, hardwood floors tainted by the wear of his days. but you never said anything, only mopped and swept the next day. “shower?” you ask, looking up at him, eyes wide with adoration, and he matches your smile.

“yeah,” he clears his throat, but makes no move to walk to the bathroom. “come with?”

you beam at him, a ray of sun in the twilight of his life. “always.”

he sheds his clothes, soiled and dirty and you push over the laundry hamper for his to throw it in. tomura hesitates for just a second, looking at your delicate panties, white jumpers, and then at the mess of black, brown and blue in his hands, roughed and tattered. “do you need me to stitch any of it up?” you ask, your back turned to him. you’re bent over the tub, testing the water to see if it’s too hot or too cold (tomura likes it warm. not lukewarm, not hot, warm.).

“maybe,” he murmurs. “i’ll look at it tomorrow.”

you hum in agreement. tomorrow’s your day together. tomura tried to spend as much time as he could at home with you and the cats, opting to schedule the league and the front’s happenings around what you wanted to do. grocery shopping day never clashed with a meeting. he was always home for movie night.

tomura turns, now naked and bare in front of you. there’s a smatter of blood, a smear of soot along his collarbone, and you reach forward with your hand wet to wipe it off. “long day, huh?” you ask, eyes flickering up to meet his for just a second.

“very.”

“saw it on the tv.” you pull him along to the tub, his arms long and lean and toned, hands warm. “looked devastating. not for you, though.”

he chuckles, lets you fuss over him. he steps into the bathtub, the water sloshing and splashing messily onto the floor. but your foresight is stronger, your bath rugs pulled towards the feet of the tub to catch the water. it’s the perfect temperature, always is when you run it for him, bubbly and soapy water clinging to his skin. you sit on the edge of the tub, watching him.

“come in,” his voice tugs on your heart, his hand breaking the water to reach for you. “shower with me.”

you smile. “was waiting for you to ask.” you stand, removing your sleep shorts and shirt, dipping your toes in slowly before letting yourself enter on the opposite side of the tub, your legs tangled together, facing each other. the water is pleasant, but it’s his warmth that comforts you. “bend down.”

he does. tomura only listens to one person, and that’s you. he dips his head, the long strands of soft hair soaked in water. you cup your hands to collect water, and lift it above his head to pour it on his scalp, soaking the rest of his head. it’s a quiet, methodical process, pouring water on his head before taking the shampoo from the side of the bathtub. you squirt a little bit into your hands, lathering it up before scrubbing his hair, making sure the suds clean the dirt off his scalp.

tomura’s hands bring death. yours bring life.

he sits there in silent contemplation, watching the water ripple with your actions. it distorts the image of himself, his reflection broken up into waves on the surface of the water. the big, bad villain melted away in your palms, now just a man being showered by his love. his girlfriend, who has stayed every day. who promises him better days.

there’s not enough in the world that he could give you in return. to compensate, to reward, to thank you. all he can do is sit quiet in this tiny bathtub in this tiny bathroom in this tiny apartment with you. all he can do is love you, and let you love him.

you wash him meticulously, not a word out of your mouth as you trace over scars, new and old, gashing or small. except for a small tut when your fingers reach his sternum, where a big, blue bruise is beginning to form. you recognised it; it must’ve been when he was compromised and cornered by mirko and some other pro-hero, before he gained the cohesion of mind to crumble the ground they stood on, knocking them off their stances just long enough to pick up the poor nameless hero by the collar. you’d turned away for a second when you watched that. you knew what happened to people who tomura got his hands on.

did you think the war was foolish? of course you did. it never escaped you the death toll, the property damage, the harm he caused. but you also understood that what he was setting his hands on was a government and a system that failed him, that failed every person who was deemed a villain. you knew that your life as a quirkless was much less valuable than someone with a quirk. you knew that those with quirks they couldn’t control, those with quirks that couldn’t serve, couldn’t save, they were thrown to the sidelines. who are they to deem who is good and who is bad?

once you’ve scrubbed his body with the loofah, you set it down on the side of the tub. “look up,” you direct him gently, your fingers tipping his chin upwards. “look at me.”

vermillion eyes flit up to meet yours, and your features soften just looking at him. you’ve looked at tomura plenty of times. it’s your favourite thing to do. but in the middle of the night, he just looks so… vulnerable. there’s a softness in his eyes you can’t explain.

you know that he tells you all his secrets, but you can’t help but feel like there are so many more buried behind his eyes.

a damp washcloth wipes along his jaw, his cheeks, his nose. you dip it in and out of the water, droplets melodical in your tiny space, tracing his sunken eyes and his scarred skin. the back of his neck where he scratches out of habit. his lips, chapped and flaking. you soak it all with your cloth and soapy water.

when you’re done, you can tell he isn’t. the bathwater’s long since gone cold, but he makes no move to get out. he’s still, the only telltale sign that he’s even alive the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. you let him steep in the water, let him take as much time as he needs to gather enough of himself to become a person again.

finally, he speaks. “do you love me?”

it’s a simple question. he’s asked it many time before; in the mornings, when the two of you spend the lazy hours together in bed. in the afternoons as you fuss over his clothes before he steps out the door. in the evenings, over the phone when he can’t make it home for dinner. in the nights that he spends buried inside you, your hands laced together, panting into your mouth. this is not an uncommon question for tomura.

but somehow, you feel like it is momentous today.

“i do,” you murmur, your hands still fit along his cheek. “i love you.”

he looks at you. “can you say it with my name?”

a beat passes. you find your tongue, and say, “i love you, tomura.”

a small frown etches in his forehead. you’re struck by a sudden fear you’ve said the wrong thing, your mouth opening to take it back. you would rather die than hurt tomura. you would rather burn through a thousand years in purgatory than do anything that upset him. you’re ready to ask what’s wrong when he shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut. there’s a tightness in his face you want to smooth with the pad of your thumb, that reaches into you and wrenches your heart. squeezes it until it bursts.

“n-not tomura. not that name.”

oh. oh.

you understand that vulnerability now. in scarlet eyes, you watch a small boy huddle close to you, like you’re a hearth of warmth and comfort. you are. you are, to him. you burn for him.

“i love you, tenko.”

and he softens. he melts, like butter in your hot, hot hands, under your blazing fingers. tomura shigaraki, the king of the underworld, the biggest villain known to man sits in your home, in your bathtub as you wash him clean. but it’s tenko shimura that you hold close to you now.

[nonnieapple]

⛈☂ Mall Emo, Mall Time, Mall Crime!☂⛈

 • (human!Marshall Lee x reader)  • r a t i n g: t e e n & u p • 2 1 0 3  w o r d s  • p o s t e d 04.10.2023     🌧 navigation  • s u m m a r y: what do you do when the cashier at a store is a dick? cheese it!

You couldn't wait to see Marshall again. Even though you had seen him a few days ago, you couldn't help but brim with happiness at the thought of seeing him again. You felt electrified, no matter how dumb that sounded, it was exactly how you felt. You smudged on dark eyeliner, pulled on your skinniest jeans, decked out your wrists with enough bracelets to cut off circulation, and wrapped one too many belts around your hips.

Two to be exact.

When you saw Marshall you practically strangled his waist with your grip. He sighed and hugged back.

"Are you trying to kill me or are you just happy to see me?" He said, strained. You pulled back enough to see his face. His beautiful, otherworldly face, his piercings, and his relaxed, dark eyes, which had a red undertone.

"I am never letting you go," You mumbled as you embraced him one more time before pulling away.

"Way to break a promise." He laughed, raising his brows and walking by your side to the entrance of the AAA Mall, one of the only malls around.

"I meant that in a more… metaphorical sense." You shrugged with a smile. Even the annoying mall, with all its lights and people and sounds, couldn't make you upset around Marshall. You were low-key obsessed with that man. In a mostly healthy way.

You walked through the mall, having been there quite a few times before. Why meet in a mall? There wasn't… a particular reason. It was one of the only notable places around. Sometimes you got food there that was edible. The vibes were okay, and Marshall liked staring at the Gridsound displays from time to time. Now that you thought of it, that was the biggest reason.

The AAA Mall wasn't crowded most days either, and you two, both unemployed artists, went there on the dead days- Monday through Friday. When the stores were a relative ghost town. That suited your sensory and human sensitivities. Nothing was worse than people staring at you. Besides the dry sound of dry skin on extremely dry paper, or nail filing. It felt like the sound itself filed down on your teeth. You never quite figured out why people stared. Was it your fashion? Were people that bored? Theorizing was useless. All it did was make you more anxious.

You looked up at Marshall. When you just started hanging out, he asked why you were looking at him like that, but eventually, he accepted that at times you stared like a cat at the nearest object. He was understanding, and whenever you needed some help, he was there. He was a good guy. A little bit of trouble, but you were too, and that was fun.

"It's cold in here. I can feel my blood turning into ice cubes…" You shivered, speeding up your pace as you looked around at blank mannequins and generic posters of conventional-looking white people. The embodiment of salt as seasoning.

"Hm?" Marshall blinked, glancing at you. "I think it's fine." He slipped his hand into yours, and you gasped.

"I'm convinced you're cold-blooded," You murmured, his hand cool and dry, his black nail polish chipped under your fingers.

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?" His calm voice was not suited for the absurdity of that phrase.

"Dude… why the hell would you ask me that?" He feigned immense devastation at your sound question.

"So, you wouldn't?" He stopped, giving you the saddest look.

"You should've been a darn actor…. of course I would. Now let's move, my something is about to fall off." You pulled him behind yourself gently. You passed by a breakfast diner called Kingdom. Not even. Their pancakes were super soggy.

Every store was a carbon copy of the next and the last, clothes so blank they were fit for a pharmaceutical ad. Warning- buying these clothes might be deadly. You'll die of boredom. Unless you only wear a shirt and nothing else. You know what they say, public indecency is a fashion statement! For the record nothing is wrong with being basic; it's fun to make fun of capitalistic copycats which probably don't even let their workers pee in a bottle, all for an off-white cardigan fit for a widow cosplay. You could even get a handkerchief in the pharmacy nearby.

Marshall slowed and you both marveled at the display- the store. Electric guitars with glossy, colorful, and rich exteriors, mics that cost as much as two pairs of eyeballs on the black market. The store was also filled with various tech. The interior was red and orange, covered with a checker pattern. No one was inside, only the cashier. They were taking a nap on the counter. Soft music played on the speakers. The sign above the entrance flickered. "Gridsound", lit up by a warm glow.

Around the corner was one of the most interesting shops in the AAA Mall, which said something. Flame Topic, a huge corporation trying to make money off people with an alternative style, essentially the same widow cosplay repackaged in a leathery, dark package.

You passed by it as you waved to one of the clerks, a person you knew, Flamber. A funky name for a funky person who was much better than that store but didn't wanna be another unemployed hoodlum.

The store right next to it was an exceptionally empty craft store, Raggedart. The cashier had resorted to doodling in a sketchbook, seated between the aisles. He wore a frumpy, muted in color, messily stitched-together sweater. You turned your head to the side.

Gum & Dia. The owner was Dia Gumm Baldwin, an older woman who had as much scandal surrounding her as she did money.

You hated that store and all of its tacky fast fashion, but the belts seemed okay. Just the belts. You wandered around it, pondering if you should get anything. Marshall was encouraging, at times to fault, so you stayed quiet as you pictured your life with a particular pair of socks. Riveting stuff.

There were a handful of people in the store, and its open nature made you worried, your shoulders tensing and nails digging into your palms. A clerk in all green and a green hoodie over their head with spikes atop it spoke to a couple of customers, gesturing to another section of the store.

You stood closer to Marshall.

"The cashier is looking at me funny… they can't handle the autistic swag," You whispered. He chuckled.

After a lot of meandering around the store, you settled on some belts. Marshall didn't seem interested in getting anything, instead inspecting the enticing crap around the checkout as you paid for your crap, setting the money on the register.

The cashier, a woman with brown hair and a crazy look to her glared at you. She looked so mad you'd think she was staring at an arch-enemy of hers.

"That's not enough."

You dug through your wallet, but no matter how many times you counted the money, you couldn't get the number right, or you didn't have enough money, hell knew, by that point your brain was shutting down.

Your mind blanked, your heart filled with panic and nonsense. You shook, feeling cold yet hot, everything in your eyes blurring and time stopping yet going too fast at the same time. It felt like a nightmare- a nightmare where a tsunami was about to wash over you, and you stood stupid, frozen by icelava. The scenario? Entirely different. The feeling? The utter dread? The same.

You didn't only stand stupid, you felt stupid. You wished you could control it. Control the anxiety.

Marshall found your hand. You didn't react, hand limp and cold. You tried to ground yourself. You were floating off into nowhere mentally as the judgement of the customers and cashier built.

"Ugh, what a weirdo, how can it take so long to pay?" Said a person behind you in line. The person next to them snickered.

"Can you please move it? What, are you scared or something?" The cashier had an air of suffocating smugness about her, glaring at you. You searched for a shred of understanding in her face. She flicked a crumpled-up check at you, and you could only stare in horror.

"Probably one of those people afraid of the world. One of those "mentally ill" ones, you know, the ones seeking attention," Whispered one of the people behind you as though you didn't hear. Not like they have a shit if you did.

Marshall strained to not strum the cashier a new one, also standing like a deer in headlights. An all too familiar reaction to conflict from him. He leaned down to you.

"I'm not saying we should take the stuff and run, but, if you want to, we totally could," He whispered, standing up straight right after as if he hadn't said a thing to you.

Your eyes darted to the register. Your mind went fast, thinking of the pros and cons. It all merged into a big lump of panic. You were filled with feverish worry.

You grabbed the things, gripping them for dear life, running toward the exit as fast as you could. Marshall was nearly perfectly in sync with you.

You ran out of the store and the belts beeped loudly, security chasing after you. Your mind and muscles screamed at you, but you yelled over them.

"You're way too supportive!" You addressed Marshall. You glanced back. The guards were hot on your trail of petty theft. They pulled out their walkie-talkies and gave you icy looks from under deeply furrowed brows. Their thick black and white uniforms, making them look like penguins, slowed them down significantly.

"Sorry for being nice and great and the best," Marshall murmured with utter seriousness as you breezed past the front entrance and past to the parking and beyond. You turned around and around until you were far enough to catch a breather.

You both panted. Your heart burned with cold fire and you buzzed and shook with excitement.

"I don't even want these…" You blinked slowly at the belts in your hands, the post-shoplifting clarity hitting you like a Mitsubishi 3000GT VR-4 Spyder. Your panic had begun to ebb and it felt awful. Also like getting hit by a Mitsubishi 3000GT VR-4 Spyder.

Marshall looked down at what he had grabbed with even more confusion than you. He had grabbed random crap. A pair of chains with crosses and a black face mask with a cat on it.

"Neither do I care about this chain. Do you want it?" He asked unsurely. Your eyes sparkled. Shinies.

"I'll have that." You grabbed them out of his hands, dropping them into your pockets.

"I care more about those assholes judging us," Marshall sighed, leaning against a wall. You hummed and frowned.

"I don't get it, is it so hard to stay outta our business? Do I have a sign on my back saying JUDGE ME?" You raised your arms to the heavens.

"I sure didn't put one there," He replied with a mischievous tone. You huffed, glancing at him up and down.

"You wouldn't do that."

You looked at your back.

"It's true, I care about you. It's my dirty secret." He turned away, covering his face dramatically.

"Awww! You're rotten!" You shoved him ever so softly. He looked to the side.

"In more ways than one." You fastened the belts around your hips, tags still on. Marshall raised a brow, silently questioning your sanity. He should've done that when he met you. Too late now.

"If anyone questions me I'll turn them into protein powder." You smoothed out your clothes, crossing your arms.

Marshall opened his mouth. He closed it, giving a thumbs up and a shaky grin.

"Let's go to the City Of Thieves bar and then home." You stretched, walking. He followed without question. He tended to do that, especially if you were in a new place, he was like a lost puppy.

"Home?"

"My apartment." You glanced at him.

"Sounds good." He smiled softly, reaching his long arm around your shoulders.

You waited at the bus stop. The bus rolled in, coming to a slow halt. You got on and made your way to the last seat which was almost always empty. The bus was pretty empty too.

"I am not paying for this bus," You whispered to Marshall as you stared outside at the sunset. His grip tightened around your shoulders comfortingly, pulling you into him.

You could hear his smirk.

"Me neither."

[giggly-squiggily]

Hc: the reason Korekiyo wraps his hands is because he had a habit of biting his nails, so when they come off after a while his long nails make for a really deadly tickle weapon :3 could I make the lee the reader please?

KOREKIYO! *claps excitedly* YESH! Oh my god I'm so hyped! I haven't written for my noodle man in awhile! I've gotcha covered, anon!

“Wow…” You blinked, strangely entranced.

“I suppose the sight is…odd.” Korekiyo remarked as he pulled off the last of his tape. Bare hands on full display, they…were hands. No markings, no scars, nothing you’d imagine he’d want to hide with that much tape. The only interesting thing about them were his nails- a smidge too long and coated with chipped nail polish. “I need to redo them.”

“Let me!” You blurted before he could speak again. “I mean…if you’d let me.”

Korekiyo blinked at you, taking in your request. Then, slowly, he pushed the small bottle of nail polish to you, holding out his hands. “Interesting…very well.”

“Great! Hm…maybe we should reshape them too…” You hummed as you took one, noting the frailed edges. “They look…bitten?” To your surprise, Korekiyo flushed beneath his mask. “Kiyo?”

“I have…a bad habit of biting them.” He confessed, shrinking some in his seat. “Hence why I tape them.”

“Hm.” You nodded, digging into the pouch he brought until you found a nail filer. “That’s okay. We all have our ticks.” The next few minutes you spent cleaning and painting his nails, shaping them so they were all matching in style. The discomfort in Korekiyo’s frame began to fade as he watched you work, and it wasn’t long before he was blinking at his new nails, pleased. “There! Like them?”

“I do. They look lovely. Thank you, (Y/N).” His eyes were warm when he looked at you, and while you couldn’t see it, you could tell he was smiling. Feeling proud, you raised your chin.

“Your welcome-”

“Mind if I take them on a test run?”

“A test what?” You blinked, and suddenly he was no longer in his seat before you. “Where are-Ehehehehehhehe!”

“Yes, these prove to be quite nice.” Korekiyo hummed as his hands found your collarbone, gently tapping along your neck as you squirmed and giggled in your seat. “Thank you, (Y/N)- I just might keep them unwrapped today.”

“Ahehahhahahahha! Yoohohoohu sohohohn of a-heeeeehehehehehehhe!” You lunged forward, jumping out of your seat and twisting so you could glare at him. “Come here, you extended green bean-”

The rest of the afternoon was you chasing him down, bandages forgotten as you seeked your revenge.

Send me a headcanon and I'll write a dabble for it!

[fiberturkey89]

The slate beast yawned once the sunrise bathed him in its warm embrace, opening his massive jaws which displayed deadly serrated teeth. A low growl leaving his maw, he shut his jaws with a light pop of air. Licking his chops he shifted in his nest, rolling onto his side.

Grass and sand shifted to accompany his weight, the saurian rubbing his face into the moss beeding with a low hiss. Normally, he'd be dormant in the day, only coming awake when the sunset arrived and filled the land with its cool breaths.

Today was different however, he could smell her approaching- with something important that would require him to leave the semi-shaded comfort of his nest, he slowly rose from the ground and shook himself free of any loose grasses, sand and more that could affect the companion Lisbeth was arriving with.

Slowly, he trudged out of his cave and descended down the hill to greet the Elemental of thunder and lightning- curious as to why she had a hatchling with her.

Perhaps that was the reason she had not visited in the previous Withering and Cold Season.

____

Gently bouncing the little bundle of joy on her hip, Lisbeth hummed a soft song- one that her late mother had often done for her.

Her hair bounced and swayed softly in the wind as yellow and blue eyes stared at her- two small hands curled around her scarred and calloused fingers. Leaning against the tree that had been planted long ago..

It hasn't seemed so long now, but it certainly felt like it! She grinned, and her baby grinned back. "Ooh, aren't you the sweetest thing! Yes, yes, you are! Taking after daddy and mommy both."

Her child cooed, blinking. Trying to mouth on her finger- she silently thanked herself (and Cliff) for making sure to remove any nail polish and fakes.

"He thinks that just because I don't have a human guardian that it doesn't really count, but you'll see him here in a second!" She chirped, her intuition right on cue as the familiar heavy footsteps of the slate saurian appeared.

"Hi Roja!"She looked up with a smile as Roja's head came around the corner with a low huff, eyeing her then the little bundle of sweetness in her arms. "Come meet your nephew or niece in arms!"

Coming closer as he crouched, sniffing cautiously, he then sat down slowly. Acting as a barricade of muscle and scales by curling around her and her baby. "Cliff and I had decided to have a kid, this is them! I haven't thought of a name yet, but I can already imagine them being great with people like their dad and mom, aim't that right, my little chick?" She cooed.

The blue maned carnivore extended his neck a little closer, carefully trying to peer into the her arms without being a disturbance- she giggled, getting up carefully and walking over to him. "Its the closest I've got to a name but Wren is looking like a winner between me and Cliff."

Both infant and saurian fell silent as their gazes met, eyeing one another. Yet her baby babbled, letting go of her finger and trying to reach out for the larger being they could see. Babbling and cooing in curiosity. "See? They like you, big blue!"

The carnivore gently pressed his snout to her arms, the near featherlight touch not surprising to her. "Nomad" despite being the figurehead of strength and loneliness was capable of acts of tenderness. "It's okay! I got you," she giggled, angling her child so that the tiny hands could brush against the grey scales.

They went still, one out of fear he had done something wrong as he eyed her with concern- and the other out of wanting to know what it was. "Pfft.. I've never seen you look so worried!"

Nuzzling against one of their cheeks, she gave a soft peck to the temple as the baby babbled in joy. Feeling her heart swell up with pride and joy, she held them closer. "My little Wren.." she whispered, ooh how she wished Cliff came along!"

Letting them play with her index finger, she gazed at her perfect child lovingly. "Your daddy doesn't really like my friend."

Roja lowly hissed through his mouth. The soft exhale from his nostrils, however, caused Wren to babble in excitment. Mumbling and moving their hands around in maybe play.

She enjoyed how her three of her five favourite beings were able to get along. While she would like Spark to come down from the trees, she was just glade he was nearby and watching. The little Glider always vigilant.

Even when they hung out with a descendent of Dragons before them. Smiling as Roja came back and allowed her baby to run their small hands across his smooth scales.

Something chirped above her, and she glanced up to see that it was a Blue Jay. She tilted her head, then glanced back at her baby and the saurian.

"Maybe Jay would be a nice name.. what do you think?"

The Phantom rumbled in partial agreement, and she smiled. "I'll talk to Cliff about it,"

He was going to agree.

[ratsoh-writes]

They find the opposite of the "Monkey's paw" the "Clown nose"

Each wish is granted but in a chaotic and funny way. Main 10

Clowwwnnnnnssssrrrrrrre

Sans: he wished for a ketchup bottle. The clown nose misheard and got him a bottle of catch up. It’s pretty much just liquid caffeine designed to make him move faster. Sans is still delighted at the pun potential of it all

Papyrus: the clown nose is so fed up with Portia because it took him so long to actually wish for anything. Finally after weeks of waiting, paps wishes that the drive to his work was slower. His car can now fly. This is the best day of his life

Star: he wishes he was taller and now he’s the not so proud owner of exactly 22 pairs of high heels. But man does he look good in them

Honey: he wishes he was more handsome. The clown nose reassured him he’s plenty handsome the way he is. Honey is left disgruntled and dissatisfied.

Red: he wished that edge would shut his trap for a day. Edges face goes blank and he walks bubbly outside while red follows him freaking out. Then edge shuts a mousetrap in the garage and is back to normal. Well if screaming at red for using a cursed object is normal

Edge: he wishes he could talk to doomfanger for a day. He can, but he’s only speaking mews for the day, and he has no idea what he’s saying. Doomfanger keeps getting mad too and hissing at him.

Mal: he wishes for a new pack of nail polish. And too his disappointment but not surprise, he gets metal polish meant for building nails

Cash: he wishes to like sweets. He tries a candy and it tastes spicy! Then he tries a second one and it’s a nasty sweet candy. Guess the wish only works for the first bite

Oak: even though this item might not be deadly per se, willow still won’t let oak use it. Poor oak lol

Willow: it doesn’t matter how “safe” a cursed object is, a curse is still a curse. Willow throws the clown nose out