#except the cookie is a blade

[cybervamp1re]

if there was ever a night to relapse on it would be tonight

[gurugirl]

Heartburn | bfd!harry

Summary: You and Harry have been anxious about seeing Fae at your baby shower but things go so well it leaves you both feeling relieved. Except for the small run-in with Fae's mom.

A/N: It's been a while! Forgive me!

Word Count: 4k+

Warning: mentions of pregnancy symptoms, smut, lactation kink (requested!), minor angst

bfd!harry masterlist

. .

When Harry got home that day, he was early to your surprise. You kissed him on the lips and then followed him into the kitchen, waddling after him as you asked him how his day was.

 He placed his palms down on the counter and let out a deep sigh, “Well… Fae’s mom stopped at the office to talk to me.”

 You placed your hands on your tummy, “And what happened?”

 Harry looked at you then down to your belly before moving toward you and placing his big hands over yours, “She had some extreme opinions about this. But I told her it wasn’t her business. Because it’s not. But she isn’t happy. She said some things that made it seem like she might stop by here to talk to you so I left work early just in case. I think she was just trying to get me riled up.”

"Why would she want to talk to me, though? What good does that do?"

"I don't know but she may be dropping off Fae for the baby shower tomorrow. Fae's car is in the shop. So it might be a possibility. I don't know if she was just bluffing but I'll be here with you all day so I won't let it get out of hand."

You nodded, "I know if you're here it'll be fine."

Harry leaned in and kissed your forehead sweetly. The fact that he came home early just in case his ex-wife might show up had you quite comforted. He was often protective, especially lately.

"What did you eat today?" He lifted a brow and took your hand to lead you toward the kitchen cupboard.

He always asked for the rundown of what you ate.

"I blended up all that fruit you cleaned for me this morning and added oats and frozen spinach…" you watched him grin as he pulled down a glass, "Then I had the rest of the grilled chicken sandwich leftover from Lando's then those chocolate chip oat cookies you made."

He poured water into the glass and handed it to you, "And how much water have you had today?"

You rolled your eyes, "A few glasses. Enough to send me running to the bathroom all morning."

"Good. Have another for me," he thumbed at your cheek with a satisfied grin.

What he didn't know was that you'd eaten every last chocolate chip oat cookie that was left. 7 in total. He'd figure it out soon enough. But he made amazing cookies and for some reason, the addition of the oats just made the texture far more appealing and you couldn't stop eating them.

"Take a nap today?"

You shook your head as you gulped the glass down.

"Not tired?"

Not after all that sugar you'd eaten.

"Feeling nervous about tomorrow, I think. Fae texted me this morning to ask if she should bring anything and I got so excited over her asking I got really bad heartburn and had to take a walk up and down the street to calm myself."

"You got heartburn from being excited?" He asked as he reached into the refrigerator to look for something. You peeked over his shoulder.

Shrugging to yourself you put your hand on his back, "I think so. Seems like I get heartburn from just about anything these days."

Harry peered over each shelf and then turned, closing the refrigerator door, "Where are all the cookies?"

A hot flush of slight embarrassment washed over your neck and your shoulder blades, "I ate them."

"All of them?" He asked with a surprised laugh.

You nodded with a sweet smile.

Harry placed his hands on your cheeks, cradling your face as he laughed through his nose, "You sure that's not the reason for your heartburn? There were like ten of them."

"Seven," you corrected with a sputtered laugh and Harry's shoulders shook in quiet amusement as he pushed the tip of his nose into yours. "And I ate the cookies after the heartburn. In fact, they seemed to cure it."

Harry squished a kiss to your lips and then turned to open up the refrigerator again, "Well then I need to make you more cookies, don't I?"

. .

Your nerves were on fire. You woke up extra early because you couldn't sleep and you couldn't get comfortable. You were going to be seeing Fae and you felt like you were going to throw up. God, being pregnant made your body respond to stress so violently. It was one thing you would not miss about being knocked up. That and the random heartburn and how clumsy you'd gotten.

But you couldn't say you hated pregnancy. You loved carrying Harry's baby and you had already fallen in love with it. Also, when you were in the mood to have sex, your orgasms were so intense it melted every little bit of worry away.

Standing in the kitchen with a chocolate chip oat cookie in hand from the fresh batch Harry had made, you heard the sound of shuffling coming from behind and then felt his hands on your upper arms, "Up so early, baby. Everything okay?"

You chewed your bite and let yourself lean back into his chest, "I'm just so nervous about today. Felt like I was gonna throw up."

Harry smiled against your ear, "So your solution is to eat more cookies?"

You nodded and laughed when he ran his fingers up your ribs, "Mama can eat as many oat cookies as she wants. Need anything else?"

His fingers continued their path up and around to your front, grazing over your nipples and softly squeezing at them over the cotton fabric of your oversized nightshirt.

You inhaled sharply through your teeth, "Careful. I've been like… lactating a little."

Harry didn't stop kneading at them, his rough morning voice in your ear was slow, "I know. So fucking sexy, aren't you? Gonna miss when this is gone," he ran his palms over your tummy and then kissed down the back of your neck before turning you around and pulling you by the hand toward the living room. The sun hadn't completely risen yet. The living room was dark but there was the slightest peek of orange sun coming in as he brought you to the couch, making you sit down as he got to his knees between your legs.

You had long forgotten about the cookie in your hand when he took it from you and placed it on the coffee table behind him, smoothing his palms up your thighs. The sweltering nerves you felt upon waking had suddenly turned into a heat pooling in your guts. He slid his hands up your nightshirt and over your bare tummy, lifting the fabric until he'd gotten to your tits where he cupped both sides and leaned forward to suckle at each side. His wet tongue and warm puffy lips on your sensitive breasts had your skin igniting.

He coasted his gaze up to your eyes as his mouth pulled at a nipple and he moaned, the look he gave you was a budding spark of fire as you watched his tongue lave the underside of your breast before wrapping his lips around your bud and sucking.

He blinked and parted from you as he wrapped his hand around your tit and focused on your nipple intently. You were leaking. He pressed his tongue over your tender nipple and lapped at it, swiping up the colostrum and then attaching his lips to take another pull, suckling as he looked up at you. A frown line carved onto the bridge of his nose before he closed his eyes and a groan vibrated into your breast.

You were surprised by how much you enjoyed it. The thrum of arousal that poured into your tummy as he laved and sucked bloomed and swelled until you were mewling with your fingers in his hair and your head thrown back into the cushions of the couch.

He kissed his way to the other side, wet smacking sounds coming from his mouth as he latched on again, working your other nipple until that side was leaking as well.

But then his fingertips found the warm crease between your legs and he gently stroked his pads up and down when he realized how wet you'd gotten.

"You like that?" His words were slurred, lazy as he looked at you through half-lidded eyes.

You nodded, "I do."

He grinned with his jaw slack as he watched your eyes when he tucked two fingers into your pussy and gently slid them in and out, "I can tell."

Harry put his lips back on your breasts as he fingered you slowly right there on the couch as the sun came up. He was moaning and rocking himself against the cushion as your pussy slushed around his fingers.

Every time he pressed in all the way his palm bumped over your clit but it wasn't enough. Finally, you grabbed his wrist and held his fingers in place so his palm was flat on your bud as you attempted to move your hips and roll against him. Everything was harder with your big belly in the way but you were so close…

"Fuck…" you gasped when you felt the tiny shock of your orgasm shudder beneath your skin. It was a light orgasm. Not the usual intense ones you'd been having lately but it was good and it had your skin tingling.

Harry watched you as you finished and he moaned softly, hips still nudging into the couch as he looked from your face to your tits and licked up little droplets seeping from your nipples.

You sighed and slid your bottom to the edge of the couch with your legs still spread for him, "You need it too."

Harry was practically shaking as he pushed his shorts down and pumped his cock, smearing his head around on your wet folds before gently pushing himself inside with a heavy groan of relief.

He was breathing softly, small puffs of moans and grunts as he watched himself glide in and out. You both looked down at the spectacle. Your big belly was in the way but every time he pulled back to his tip you could see the base of him coated in your wetness before he pressed his length back into the hilt.

And that was what felt like real relief. His cock. His fingers, always magical… but his cock… life-changing. You couldn't even say that was a dramatic thing to think either. Harry's dick was perfect. Big and hard when it needed to be, filled up all your bits on the inside just right. You were no saint before Harry. You'd slept with a decent amount of guys to know a good cock, and not even a good cock could save a guy from being bad at sex. But Harry had it all in that department. He was so good and his cock was beautiful. So meaty and so long. He knew exactly how to make you come.

You inhaled sharply and kept your eyes on his face as he worked into you steadily. He was fucking you in that way that drove you crazy. Not fast and not slow. Like he was taking a nice sports car up the street and just hitting the speeding limit. It could have gone so much faster. It could have taken your breath away and given you a rush. But right then, he had just one purpose; getting you from point A to point B gently and with precision. Too fast and he worried he might hurt you. Too slow and he'd come before you could. But this… steady and strong with the kind of build that was going to make you explode at your arrival was what he was shooting for.

"Mmm…" you moaned and he flicked his eyes up to your face.

"Yeah… How's that feel? Gonna come again, Y/n?"

You twisted your face up and nodded, "Mmhmm… yes… Just like that, Harry."

He rolled into you languid, solid, thick. It made your blood sizzle as your legs quivered.

But then he leaned in, cock still driving into you, and began working on your nipples again. Sucking and smushing and kissing wetly. He moaned against your breasts and you felt the heavy throb of his cock inside of you.

When he ghosted the tip of his tongue over your bud slowly you watched him lap at your milk. His eyes were pools of ink on yours, dark pupils spread over his irises as he continued fucking into you at that maddening steady pace.

You began to flutter and squeeze around him, your voice wobbled as you started to come and that time, your orgasm wiped you out. Your limbs shook as Harry's deep voice muttered against your breasts, his cock stretching you wide and then you felt him pumping into you, his own moans a higher octave, soft against your neck as he released his fertile come into your guts.

Now you were ready to take on the day.

. .

Your mother and father were the first to arrive to help with setting the place up. Your aunt and Harry's cousins were next. You tried to distract yourself knowing that soon Fae would be there and you'd be face-to-face with her again. It'd been months since you'd last seen her at Target. And things had been very cordial over text so you were hopeful.

"Harry! I need help pulling this zipper up!" You called from the bedroom, door ajar, hoping he'd hear you from downstairs.

Just before you were about to call out again you heard his heavy steps as he bounded up the stairs toward you. He was always listening for you. You shouldn't have doubted. He'd probably have heard the faintest whisper he was so cautious and protective with you.

"I'm here, baby…" he breathed out and closed the door behind himself, big hands spinning you around so he could finish zipping your dress up. You felt him kiss your shoulder and then your neck, "Gorgeous as always. Feeling good?"

You nodded, "Yeah. Feel really good. Still a little nervous but nothing crazy. Excited to see Fae."

Just then the doorbell rang. It could have been anyone but you and Harry looked at each other for a quick beat, quiet understanding passing between you both. He was nervous about seeing Fae too. She'd only been communicating with you. Had yet to reach out to her father, though she mentioned she was looking forward to seeing him.

And now that you were pregnant, even though you hadn't even yet met your baby, you couldn't imagine what it must feel like to have a strained relationship with them as an adult.

You slid your hand into Harry's, "Let's get down there."

Everything was soft blue and green and yellow with little dashes of pink and violet pastels. You and Harry decided not to find out what the sex was going to be. In truth, you didn't care but you had an inkling it was going to be a girl.

Your mother had set up tables and chairs and snacks were lined up on the kitchen island with cute paper plates that had little yellow bears and green butterflies printed all over them.

It wasn't a formal affair. Your mother had wanted to host the shower at the member's club your dad was part of. But the last thing you wanted was to spend all that money for an afternoon of having friends and family celebrate you for getting knocked up.

The person who had arrived when the doorbell rang was Shelcin. She was dressed in a brightly colored floral dress with big puffy sleeves and ruffles at the hem. It was very Copacabana minus the fruit headdress. You would have expected nothing less.

She kissed your bump and then your cheeks and loudly announced that she bought you the most expensive baby monitor… "That way, even when you and Harry are having hot sex you'll know when the baby's up. No worries about missing a single thing!"

You laughed as your mother placed the gorgeously wrapped box next to the others. Harry's cousin glanced at you and the loud Colombian woman. One thing you'd learned about Shelcin was that she wasn't quiet and she didn't hold back her opinions or vulgarities. You loved it.

With the next chime of the doorbell, you felt Harry behind you as you both stood facing the door. Your mother opened it and there she was. Fae.

Your face brightened and your heart raced as you felt Harry's grip on your arms tighten the slightest, "You okay?"

You looked up at him, "I'm fine. You?"

He blinked and let out a breath, "I will be."

Fae smiled softly as she thanked your mother who took the gift she'd brought. She stepped into the living, looking all around. It was the first time she'd been in the house so it was all new to her.

You and Harry moved toward her and it felt like slow motion as she spotted you and her dad, "Oh wow."

Her eyes got big when she looked down at your belly and you put your hands over your tummy, "I know. About to pop."

Fae hesitated for a moment before stepping in and giving you a hug. It was warm and it felt right. You thought you might pass out, but luckily Harry was standing close just in case your nerves and stress rendered you unconscious.

When Fae pulled away she smiled at her dad, "Hi, dad. You look good. I–"

Harry sniffed and moved in quickly to wrap his arms around his daughter. You knew by that sniff that he was tearing up already.

You watched them as they clung to each other and then you saw his shoulders gently shaking. You knew he'd cry. Harry was emotional, especially about Fae. He didn't talk about it a lot but when you two did sit and discuss it he'd always get worked up over it and have to look up at the ceiling so his tears didn't spill down his face.

Even though you weren't surprised by his tears, it still got you emotional too and you covered your mouth to muffle the small gasp as a tear rolled down your cheek.

Seeing Fae again was better than you imagined. You were still a bit awkward with each other but you were looking forward to rekindling the relationship.

Harry made opening gifts far more entertaining than it should have been. Everyone laughed as Harry made comments and took guesses at what was in each box before handing them to you. He was a regular comedian all of a sudden. You knew he secretly loved the attention.

At one point you picked up a pair of scissors to break through some thick unruly tape on one of the gifts and he quickly dove in and took them from you to open the box himself because he didn't want you to hurt yourself. Everyone oohed and ahhed at how doting he was but you just shook your head and let him have his moment. Honestly, Harry was the star at your baby shower and you really wouldn't have preferred it any other way.

When it was time to toss plates and cups and wrapping paper as guests began to leave, Fae stayed behind to help.

You learned she'd gone to Italy for three weeks over the summer, had started a new job, and had begun dating someone new recently. It was wild how quickly life changed. It didn't feel like all that much time had passed since you'd first started seeing Harry but it was going on 2 years already. Even if a decent chunk of that time was while he was still married, it felt like it'd all just flown by.

Harry joined in to chat with you and his daughter for a while as your mother and father insisted on finishing up cleaning. Fae was so open and receptive that you kept feeling like at any moment the mood would burst. It felt too good to be true.

And it was like you just knew better than to let yourself feel too excited when a knock came to the front door.

Fae glanced toward the sound and then back at you and Harry, "I think it's Mom. She's picking me up."

The three of you stood and walked to the door as Fae opened it up, "Hey. You should have just texted. I'd have met you out there."

Her mother looked from Fae then toward you and your very pregnant belly. A shock of something like hurt and then loathing shadowed her face. Bitterness. She looked up at Harry, "You must be so happy. Your new family should do perfectly to replace your old one."

"Mom, don't." "Hey. Not okay."

Both Harry and Fae spoke at the same time, chiding the woman who slid her gaze back toward you as Harry clutched an arm around you to keep you closer to his side

"I hope you're proud, Y/n. Congratulations. Let's hope your child's best friend doesn't meet H–"

He gently stepped in front of you and pointed outside, "Go. I don't want you here. This is not the time."

Fae put her hands on her mom's arms and turned to look back at you with an expression of apology as she walked them both away from the house, "I'll call you. We'll get together soon."

Harry closed the door and took your hand, "It was such a good day, too."

You reached up to cup his cheek and smiled, "It still is a good day, Harry. Everything with Fae? Nothing can erase that. It was beautiful. Everything. I wish that that hadn't just happened but…" you shook your head as you watched a small smile creep up on his face, "Today was amazing. I'm so happy."

A sheen of tears filled his eyes and he squeezed your hand, "I'm happy too, Y/n. I love you so much."

"So, where should I put all these?" Your mom asked, oblivious to what had just happened as she gestured toward the table filled with gifts, "Upstairs in the baby room?"

You and Harry laughed as you looked at your mother, the sweet moment interrupted. He wiped his eyes and sniffed again.

"Yeah. We can help. I know where I want everything–" You started to move toward the table.

"You will sit down, prop your legs up, and rest while I help your mom and dad," Harry scolded as he walked you to the couch.

Honestly, you should have known that he was going to make you relax. You kissed his cheek as he helped lower you to sit, "You're too much, Harry."

He raised his brow and turned to kiss you quickly on the lips, "Good. Then I'm doing it right." He pulled away and bent down to grasp around your shins and bring your legs up onto the couch before tucking a pillow under your knees.

He stood and looked down at you, "Need anything before I go up there?"

You shook your head, "No. Got the remote right here," you raised it upward and smiled.

"Alright," then he pointed at you, "You better keep your pretty ass right here the whole time. I don't want to have you walking around trying to clean anything up. Understood?"

You laughed softly and saluted him, "Yes, sir."

He shook his head and bent down over you, one hand resting on the arm of the couch behind you as he spoke quietly into your ear, "Watch the attitude or I'll have to give you a spanking."

You reached up for his collar to keep him close and grinned, "You'd spank a pregnant woman?"

A lopsided grin took over his expression and his eyes flashed with something mischievous, "I absolutely would. It would have to be modified of course, but it'll sting your ass just as good. Behave."

He walked away and you watched him, all masculine broad shoulders and dark curls as he disappeared up the stairs with your parents –as if he hadn't just threatened, with heavy sexual undertones no less, to spank your ass.

A wide smile stretched across your face. God, you loved him.

. .

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[vagabond-umlaut]

you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry

only the sun has come this close, only the sun

gojo satoru x wife!reader; tooth-rotting domestic fluff; gojo LOVERBOY™️ satoru; you aren't any better than him [but less poetic abt the predicament]; tw: pregnancy, 1 tiny mention of throwing up; satoru calls you 'cookie'; and he redefines the word besotted here; his thoughts are also a little yandere-ish but tht's cute, methinks; 2.3k wc; i just wish satoru was real and in my arms rn T-T

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

the fic title and summary don't rly hv a very strong connection to the fic plot— except the fact they fit both satoru's & reader's characters in this series to a tee ^_^

fic title and summary from 'gps' by shauna barbosa // header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

you are clingy.

always have been, in fact, now that gojo thinks about it. long before the two of you were married. long before you were engaged. quite a long time before the two of you were anything apart from friends at best, acquaintances at worst.

yet now, as he feels a pair of arms squeeze tighter around his middle, not really still very much squeezing the air out of him— your husband reckons you've grown loads clingier now—

and he loves you for this. loving you even more when he feels kisses being pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.

soft lips, a tad chapped. not without the shy grazing of your teeth.

just how he likes it.

very much how he adores you.

affection, settled deeper than should be feasible into the hollow of his chest, flutters a little when you nuzzle into his back; that pleased little hum of yours quick to follow it. smiling, gojo turns his head a touch to catch a glimpse of you. it takes a beat before you remove your face to lock eyes with him, before returning your face to his back.

he huffs a chuckle, sounding incredibly fond all the same. his feelings for you can never be suppressed anyway. time has proved this to him enough number of times.

he runs a finger down the length of your arm, relishing how it leaves a line of goosebumps in its wake—

"you wanna tell me something, cookie?" your husband finally asks.

your reply doesn't come immediately. and when it does, it is nothing more than a noncommittal noise. too spoiled. too stubborn. a bit too satisfied as well, the emotion further expressed when you nuzzle his back yet again.

gojo's smile grows bigger. his cheeks hurt a little.

he thinks he can live forever with this kind of pain, not even a sigh of complaint ever leaving him.

"aha—" he exclaims loudly, still soft enough to keep the quiet of this sweet bubble you've pulled you both into, "so it's just my irresistible charm that's making you so clingy tonight, hm?"

another beat passes.

and just when he thinks he might have to do with another one of your indistinct sounds for an answer, you speak. to be more precise, whine and grumble, everything so sweet in your adorable voice.

"it's not me being clingy, 'toru— it's the baby— the baby is making me so clingy. making me feel as if i can't live even for one second without squishing you like thisss!!!"

the first reaction your tightening grasp brings out is the wind getting knocked out of his lungs— the second reaction being all that oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide being replaced by a feeling so fierce and so tender— the strongest thinks his knees would have buckled under its weight had he not been lying down but standing—

not that he really minds that, though.

for you, he's always on his knees. whether you ask it of him or not. the only light in this world he is willing to bow his eyes before.

it takes him not too much effort but gojo makes a point of struggling whilst he shifts in your hold. and grins when he finally comes face-to-face with you, drinking in the way your brows are puckered and lips a little parted in an incredulous expression.

his grin simmers down however, when his six eyes notice the spark in your tummy. so tiny. so blinding. so priceless— to him and you both— he knows this, surer than he is of the scars on his palms.

thumbing the hem of your t-shirt, he hums, dragging his eyes back to be drowned in yours, "how many weeks along are you, wifey?"

"satoru," you start, voice turning sharper and just as skeptical as your face was, still is— only to be shushed by a finger to your lips. the man addressed feels his heart skip a beat at your confused big scowl— it's got to be a crime to be as cute as you— really!!!

he pinches your cheek lightly.

"it isn't like i don't remember that, cookie. i just wanted you to say it— c'mon, tell me quickly!" he presses, noting then utilising the moment your face begins to lose its cynical hue over his words.

the scowl lingers there however, twisting your delectably pretty lips—

"nine weeks," you say, hooking a leg over his waist to pull him closer. can he be any closer to you, though? your answer is always a yes, he knows you well enough to know this.

"thirty-one weeks more before we meet our baby."

it's not exactly thirty-one weeks; it's thirty weeks and five days before either of you can meet the baby, but gojo decides not to point out the error. you always hate it when he points out your tiny errors and make a point of snarking about it every time he opens his mouth to speak a word next— the man is wary not to upset his wife, yes, thank you very much.

he offers a sage "hm" in response, one he observes you accept slowly. the scowl lifts itself into a curve so fond— gojo thinks once before he vaults his next query your way. not wanting to see that smile vanish in front of him—

the ask won't cause anything so. but he can never be too sure. he has read too many books and articles to not grasp how fragile pregnancy hormones can make one be.

he tucks a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear.

fingers tarrying there when he sees you lean into his touch— not akin a moth to a bright flame, no. he can never hurt you. not even for once in his wildest dreams—

but how the north pole of a magnet hurries towards the south pole of another magnet. so different in their nature, a perfect pair of opposite crafted by the nature— maybe that's why nothing can ever stop them from rushing to each other once they're proximated, the lines of their mutual attraction existing even when thousands of miles apart.

just like you and him.

contrasting, complementing, completing each other every instant, in every facet of life.

he lets his fingers dance through the tangles in your hair, unravelling the knots in there. that pleased little hum of yours reaches him once again.

stowing the sound away, later to be placed on a pedestal in an ornate glass case as the most valuable praise ever given to him for his effort, he runs a gentle hand, nails scratching your scalp carefully.

"and at nine weeks old, just how big might our baby be?"

"i think there is a chart comparing our baby's size to fruits..." syllables unhurried and a pinch mumbled, you press your heel to draw him in a little more. "i did not really read that too attentively— oh. but. yeah!" a grin forms on your features, sleepy still twinkling in excitement.

"shoko sent me a link to this website earlier today— any ideas, 'toru, what it might be about?"

gojo does have an idea. he has a very, very good idea.

but he chooses not to say that aloud. you look so extremely adorable when you are being this excited. he would hate nothing more than to see your amped up self getting interrupted by him.

he shakes his head. your grin brightens. eyes crinkling with a glint, he can tell even without looking, is knowing.

the tips of your fingers caress his bare back, softer than a breath. "it's about when our baby forms which organs— our baby's eyes are being formed now!!! isn't that too cute, 'toru?"

"it is, cookie," he hums without any hesitation, six eyes activating one more time to zero in on that teeny-tiny spark. then deactivating when he looks back up to your sleepy eyes. a terribly tickled, equally wicked glimmer creeps into his grin. "so our baby is just like a tiny ball of cells with two big blue eyes, huh? they must look so scary, heh— ouch!"

your pinch did not really pain him, but gojo does his best to mimic an awfully wounded puppy, sogging wet from the rain and waiting at the doorstep with his moving blue eyes— it takes less than three seconds before you let go of your glare with a sigh.

you massaging the sore spot on his arm, your husband watches you give yet another sigh.

"first of all, there's no guarantee our baby will have your eye color and not mine, 'toru," you explain, pinning him under your drowsy stare, "it is very difficult to predict that for sure— and secondly: i'll punch you if you ever call our baby scary— sure, they don't really look like a human in this moment, but they'll slowly get there in forty weeks— as per the website, their face, hands and feet are forming in the ninth—"

"okay, alright!! i get your point, my insanely smart, insanely beautiful, insanely sexy wife," gojo cuts in, smiling while warning bells chime in his head at the faintest gloss in your eyes—

but maybe they weren't noisy enough. that is why he doesn't bite his tongue, rather continuing, "but you weren't actually blaming our poor human-ey baby for your clinginess, were you? it's not like they have a telepathic communication set up with you— hell, maybe they haven't even started forming their brain!"

"the baby's brain starts forming by the fifth week, satoru," your quiet reply reaches him exactly when he gets his last giggle out. the moist sheen in your eyes grows more prominent.

and his insides begin to twist—

one-third helpless. two-thirds contrite.

you don't stop talking, tone lower than he has heard you use in nearly forever, "and you better not comment on my bond with our baby— i'll punch you twice if you—"

"i wasn't doing that and i promise to never make you feel that way, my cutie-pie cookie," gojo interrupts, voice far gentler than earlier, just as low as yours, "but feel free to throw me out the house if i ever do that, even accidentally. okay?"

you're not okay.

you never are, when it comes to you being actually harsh to him, even when he's the one asking you to be— shakespeare once called love to be blind— your husband doesn't think you're blind, however. it is your well-contemplated decision to see his mistakes and see each of them as excusable, perfectly pardonable, no matter how silly or serious the world might regard them to be—

you make a noise. somewhat annoyed. unhappy too, yeah. before you push your face into the crook of his neck, nose nuzzling into the flesh there.

you would have bitten him by now. but he reckons you might be a bit too tired for all that. you couldn't even finish your dinner before facing the urge to throw up tonight, yet again.

feeling sorry, almost, gojo resumes his ministrations to your hair, half because you need to fall asleep now; the hands on the clock are close to striking midnight. the other half because he just loves playing with your hair— only to still when you suddenly pull your head back.

brows furrowed as you peer at him, eyes big and earnest.

"you don't really mind when i hug you like this, do you, 'toru?"

"no, cookie!! of course not!!" the man wastes not even a breath before he rushes to explain— because seriously, what!??

sure, he wasn't the first one to fall between you two. but ever since he did fall, he has never not expressed how every second away from you, every fraction of an instant away from you, causes him pain.

and yeah, he might have been a tad too dramatic whilst doing so, but you've always been so good at reading him— then why on earth can't you read him now? why don't you read, he loves it when you seek him out, he loves you more than anyone and anything else??

"good," your satisfied little chirp gives him a light shove away from his frantic thoughts. something tells him he should be put on alert by the way your lips curve into a smug smile next.

but gojo finds himself uncaring. just immensely relieved as he trails his fingers from the back of your head to your chin. thumb reaching out to brush the corner of your infectious smile. you continue.

"but even if you did mind, sorry not sorry— you were the one who put the ring on my finger, so you have to deal with everything i'm, mister!! no refunds nor complaints can be filed here, gojo-san~"

and neither refunds nor complaints he wishes to file, satoru muses to himself as he cups your cheek in one hand. bending down to steal the taste of your beam, your tease, your love for him on his tongue—

not when he has received the world in exchange for letting go of that poor splintered mess of a heart, he used to call his, but is now yours.

and will always stay yours—

"hey 'toru— what will you do if i chomp on your fingers right now, like really hard? will you yell? or will you be the freak that you're and enjoy it, huh?"

gojo pauses.

and wonders.

is there any binding vow one can make to secure oneself to another in every lifetime, for all eternity?

he hopes there is.

your husband really, seriously hopes there is—

'cause no way in heaven, earth or hell, does gojo satoru want to let go of you— and he will not let go of you.

this idea was ROTTING in my brain for ages, but wht gave me the spark– the boost to write this was the wonderful sukuna fic written by ari @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ❤️❤️❤️ i seriously love u & ur writings sm, babes 🥹🥹 everyone pls go check their masterlist out. it's studded w diamonds and pearls 😌😌🥰

and this is also for my sweet & sour bestie mimi @avatarofstars ����🤭— u 🤝 me in being clingy af towards our fictional hubbies 😂😂🥰

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

[xenteaart]

you are not difficult

pairing: chan x reader (i wrote it with idol!chan or producer!chan in mind, but it can fit any au, really) word count: no idea but it's short genre/warnings: er, angst, hurt/comfort, implied suffering w depression, implied history of SH. also implied shitty ex. so PLS keep that in mind before you read. also, it's all good in the end. author's note: it's a self comfort thing y'all but i hope you like it too.

it was yet another night where everything felt too much and you kinda hated yourself for it. bad day, maybe some hormonal imbalance due to a certain time in your cycle, history of mental illness — it's hard to put a finger on the exact cause. you're sick of trying, anyways.

chris was, of course, right there for you, and as you were falling apart in his arms, your entire soul was aching so bad that it made you want to crawl out of your own skin. it's usually like that, everywhere in your body like some sort of extreme inflammation, except physically you're perfectly fine.

"'m sorry…" you blurt out somewhere between your sobs and cries, still unable to hold eye contact with him.

"baby, you have nothing to be sorry for," chan shakes his head and keeps rubbing circles into your back, just between the shoulder blades where the ache feels the most excruciating.

"kiss me?" you squeak. almost pathetic, honestly, but it's always been your way of checking, whether he still wants you. whether he still loves you and desires you, even at your lowest, even with your mascara all smudged over your cheeks, eyes puffy and red, lips slightly irritated and swollen. even when there's a gaping black hole where the heart is supposed to be.

chris doesn't even question it, really. he simply leans in and gives you a long sweet kiss full of both a partner's tenderness and a lover's lust, so, so willing to do whatever it takes to calm the thunderstorm inside your mind and ease your struggle.

the kiss doesn't really satisfy you, the feeling is still there.

"sorry," you whisper again as you breathe out into chan's lips but the intimate contact doesn't last long. chris frowns and makes some distance between you two to look into your eyes.

"why? baby, why do you keep apologizing?" he sounds gentle but still slightly frustrated.

"i dunno? cos 'm difficult? for bein' difficult?"

there's a silence as he blinks a few times, processing and putting two and two together.

"just because it was difficult for them to love you and take care of you, doesn’t make you difficult. you are not difficult. like, at all," he puts on his serious tone, the one he uses for you when you can't see the obvious and he has to remind you.

you don't really know what to say to that, so you keep playing with the tissue paper in your hands, ripping it apart piece by piece just to keep yourself busy and focused on something other than the burning ache in your chest.

"dealing with mental health isn't easy, that one is true, baby, but it's so easy to love you. you are easy to love. even now, looking so small and in pain but it's still you, and my duty as your boyfriend is to take care of you when you can't. and, hell, you're one of the most capable people i know, so please just let me hold your hand through it once in a while, yeah?" chan speaks slowly and quietly, as if to make every single word sink in, tenderly forcing it into your stupid lovely brain that refuses to cooperate sometimes.

chris feels safe. he feels like lighting up a cookie scented candle after a long day at work. he's the feeling of the ocean timidly licking at your feet and burying them deeper into warm wet sand. chris is the first sip of coffee in the morning and the cold side of the pillow at night. he's everything worth living and trying for.

"thank you," is the only thing you manage to say, but in the way you lean back into his embrace he's able to read a lot more.

"do you want a nice mug o' hot chocolate and some fairy bread, baby?"

this question makes you hiccup and sob once again. you nod and nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck.

[brittle-doughie]

financier cookie except she bodyguards (& dates) Y/N cookie

i just think she's really cool

“Financier Cookie. At your service, your Majesty.”

You had plenty of Cookies that signed up for bodyguard duty, it was a position that was held in high importance. And no other cookie was more deserving of the position than Financier Cookie.

She took her role seriously, incredibly so. You couldn’t go anywhere in the kingdom without Financier following you around, she’s insistent that she remained by your side at all times.

“Don’t mind me. I will simply be an observer, it’s a knight’s duty to uphold order, even in conversation.”

She observes any conversation you have with others closely, waiting for the moment the talking starts to go downhill, by then she’d have already have the cookie be on their way. She will not hesitate to draw her blade if the cookie shows signs of aggression. Any and all danger to Y/N Cookie will be swiftly dealt with by Financier!

“No time to play around…may the Light guide my hand and protect you, Y/N Cookie!”

After a certain confrontation, you’re fully aware that Financier will throw herself in front of you to safeguard you from any harm, no matter how fruitless it may seem! She’s doing this regardless if you know how to fight or not, she’d hate herself if you ever got hurt on her watch…

You couldn’t ask for a more wonderful bodyguard girlfriend.

Oh right, the girlfriend part.

“Y-Y/N Cookie, don’t say that out of nowhere. I..tend to lose focus when you do…”

Financier Cookie keeps that part under wraps as she fears it wouldn’t look professional of her to be dating her majesty, but really she’s incredibly embarrassed to be called girlfriend out in public.

Her devotion to protecting you doesn’t come from just obligation as her job, but also because of her genuine love for you. Those nightly walks around the kingdom, where it was nothing but you and her were not just patrols. It were moments that only you and her share, the conversations you two have with one other.

The stars above, they shine just like her…that’s enough to have her lost composure and become all blushy. She didn’t think that was fair of you to do that to her and she tries to top it with her own compliments!

“Y/N Cookie, always remember that my blade and my heart are dedicated to you…”

If she was permitted, she’d be your 24/7 bodyguard just like how she’s your 24/7 girlfriend.

For you were her Light….

“Excuse me, they asked for NO PICKLES in their burger! I will make sure of it!”

[7s3ven]

POPULAR. luke (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N is tired of being bullied her whole life so she makes a deal with Luke. As long as she does his bidding, he’ll make her popular.

“Beggin' on her knees to be popular. That's her dream, to be popular. Kill anyone to be popular, sell her soul to be popular.”

Warnings : toxic! luke + y/n (but they’re lowkey iconic together), gore, death, manipulation if you squint, dark themes, y/n + luke are both pretty messed up, pretty gruesome near the end, not proof read

A/N : Me when I wanna write toxic one shots to express my feelings but I've been in toxic relationships and writing fluff is how I comfort myself :c

—

Years ago, the young Y/N would’ve scoffed in her face. Maybe even spat at her if she was feeling bratty enough. Why make a deal with Luke? It was like selling your soul to the devil.

Camp Half-Blood loved Luke, adored him even. But under all that courage and glory was a monster. Y/N had seen it first hand when he turned his head for a split second during a duel, his eyes going dark and his lips curling into a cruel sneer.

Nobody except Y/N ever noticed that hidden darkness behind his soft kindness. It wasn’t her fault she made that wretched deal. He approached her first, staring so longingly into her eyes and speaking with a voice so charming that she hung off every word.

The first time he talked to her was when she was eating breakfast, isolated from the rest of her chattering siblings. Ares was her father, which explained all her retrained anger towards the world. She was the lowest of the bunch, never socialising with anyone and avoiding all group activities to the best of her ability.

She was skilled with a spear but did anybody notice? No one did. Except Luke. In a way, he was her saviour in this eat or be eaten world. Y/N was a tough cookie to crack but getting her head shoved into toilets every day could wear down anybody.

Luke wasn’t usually one to take an interest in girls. He had plenty fawning over him for his attention but none of them could catch his eye like Y/N. There was something about her precise aim with the blade of her spear and the way she gulped down her ice cold water without a second thought. Call it creepy, but Luke found solitude in secretly watching Y/N train.

“Y/N.” Was the first thing Luke had ever said to her. She looked up in surprise and Clarisse’s face turned sour at the sight of the Hermes boy. Her beady eyes narrowed as his hand brushed against Y/N’s shoulder.

“You’re pretty good with a spear.” He quietly whispered in Y/N’s ear so none of the other Ares kids could hear him. “If you ever need a sparring partner, I’m right here.”

Y/N lips parted in shock as she watched him slink off towards his own table. Her siblings stared at her in curiosity before turning back do their food, scoffing at her.

Every minute, Y/N would steal small glances at Luke. And every time, he caught her and gave her a knowing smirk. She looked down at her plate after being caught for the fifth time, her cheeks flushing red and turning hot. She no longer felt hungry.

Y/N stood up, scraping the rest of her food into the fire. She felt a presence behind her but she paid no mind to it until they spoke it.

“So, did you think about my offer?” Of course it was Luke. Y/N flinched, almost dropping the porcelain plate into the fire to join her discarded meal.

“Why me?” She asked, her voice nothing but a quiet whisper that barely reached Luke’s ears.

“Why not you?” He replied, cheekily tilting his head.

Y/N could come up with many reasons to that question. She always took Luke as someone who carefully picked who he interacted with, especially when it came to girls.

“May’s prettier.” She said, nodding over to the bright brown-haired girl tucked in the middle of the Aphrodite table.

“Yeah, she’s pretty but you’re prettier.”

“Vivian’s smarter.”

Luke glanced at the Athena girl with not much interest, shrugging. “Not my type.” Vivian’s was everybody type with her sharp-witted mouth and perfectly cut bob.

“Why are you talking to me, Luke?” After a while, Y/N cut straight to the chase. She furrowed her brows in confusion, a little uneasy with how close Luke was and how girls were glancing over at her.

“I’ve seen you fight.” Luke continued to avoid her questions, much to her annoyance. “Like I said, I’d be happy to be your sparring partner. Today, five pm. Does that work for you?”

Y/N stared at him, hesitating for a moment before she slowly nodded. “Yeah… I’ll see you then.” She briefly smiled before rushing off, dumping her plate somewhere else.

Luke wasn’t expecting much when he showed up at the arena, holding his newly sharpened sword. He figured that if Y/N didn’t end up coming then he could at least get some solo practice in.

But no, she was sitting on a bench inside the arena, fiddling with her spear. She lifted her head, her eyes locking with Luke’s.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know you’d actually show up.” He dropped his sword in front of her, grinning.

Y/N shrugged. “It… seemed rude not to.” She muttered, looking down at the ground around.

“I’ll be honest, Y/N. I didn’t just want to spar with you. I’ve come to make you a deal. I’ve noticed that a particular someone keeps shoving your head into a toilet.” Luke smirked when he saw Y/N stiffen. He crouched down in front of her, “What if I told you… that I could make it all go away? Just like that.”

He snapped his fingers.

“I can make you popular, Y/N. So popular that no one, not even Clarisse, will mess with you again.”

Y/N gave Luke that same narrowed glare that Clarisse often sent his way. “What’s the catch?” She asked, causing Luke to chuckle.

“Smart. The catch isn’t that big. All you have to do is whatever I tell you to.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raised slightly as she finally made eye contact with Luke again. He charmingly smiled at her. She thickly gulped, weighing out all her options in her head. She could reject his offer and be the victim of relentless bullying… or she could accept and never get hit by Clarisse again.

Luke frowned at her hesitation. “The choice is your’s.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered to look at everything but him. She slowly nodded. “Okay.” She whispered. “Okay. I’ll do it. Deal.”

It started off small. Steal someone from Clarisse, easy enough. Y/N was almost as cunning as Hermes himself, which slightly impressed Luke. He gave her a nod of approval after she dropped Clarisse’s beloved spear in front of him. As promised, he stopped the bullying, but in a way Y/N never expected.

After yet another failed game of capture the flag, Y/N was walking towards the large crowd of demigods when Luke abruptly picked her up and kissed her. Dating or even being around Luke Castellan was guaranteed to make you popular and Y/N had somehow been roped into it without her knowledge.

Her tasks weren’t too difficult until Luke told her to do the unthinkable. To pick a target and violently murder them as a warning to the camp that bad things were coming.

“Luke… you know I can’t.” She muttered as she hid behind the Hermes cabin with him. She was clutching onto his arm, begging him to give her another task. Luke stared down at her in annoyance.

He rolled his eyes, slightly sneering. “Come on. It’s easy. I’ll even show you.” Y/N peered at him through her lashes, looking like a deer in headlights. But she couldn’t say no. She could never say no to Luke when he had his lips pressed so firmly against her’s and when his fingers traced delicate circles around her waist as he lifted her shirt.

After that short conversation, Y/N’s nights consisted of sneaking out to meet Luke. He taught her how to wield an ax, how to knock someone out, and even explained how to dismember a body. Clearly, he had studied these dark topics.

Y/N lay on the forest floor, staring up at the stars. Luke was nearby, his arm lazily slung around her waist and pulling her closer towards him.

“We have to be careful.” He whispered in her ear, tucking a strand of her hair away. Y/N knew that if Luke went down, she’d be forced with him and vice versa. He pressed a light kiss to her neck, inhaling the smell of her floral perfume.

Luke had a twisted obsession with the idea of murder. It thrilled him. The vivid image in his mind of blood splattered across the floor and limbs bent at awkward angles made his stomach churn but... it was exciting.

"Luke... what are we doing with our lives?" Y/N muttered, turning to face him. When had everything gone downhill? When did they suddenly turn into borderline murders and sadists? Perhaps Luke was always like this and he infected Y/N with his disease. But if she was willing to do anything to become popular, even drive a knife through someone's heart, then it just showed Luke that she might be as abnormal as him. “Princess,” Luke’s voice was barely a whisper as he handed her a cigarette. He often kept them hidden under his mattress, only taking them out when he needed to destress. He lit the tip for her and watched as she slowly took a drag, blowing out a mouthful of smoke.

The pair stared down at the body in front of them. They weren’t dead, merely knocked out. Outside, the wind was relentless. It smashed against the wooden walls of the abandoned cabin, as if warning Y/N and Luke to stop whatever madness they were about to commit.

BORN IN GRIEF,

“Do you ever think it could have been different if the gods gave a fuck about us?” Y/N asked, tilting her head to the side. She took another drawl from the cigarette before passing it over to Luke. “Would we be less… messed up if they actually cared?”

Luke shrugged. “Maybe. But this is who we are, we can’t change that.”

RAISED IN HATE,

Y/N would never admit it out loud but she and Luke were sick. Sick for even thinking of doing this and suddenly, Y/N’s stomach lurched. A tiny morsel of her personal morals held her back from approaching the body but she was also curious. How long would it take until the demigod before them realised their doom?

HELPLESS TO DEFY THEIR FATE.

They stirred but their eyes never fluttered open. Luke and Y/N exchanged a look before he gestured her forward. She held the wooden handle of the ax tightly, dragging it along the floor as she stepped towards the unconscious body.

Y/N was unusually calm when she lifted the ax, the sharp blade glinting in the moonlight. Suddenly, the demigod awoke with a desperate gasp. They scrambled back at the sight of Y/N.

LET THEM RUN,

“Please, don’t… what have I ever done to you? Don’t kill me! I haven’t even completed a quest or been claimed yet!” The demigod clasped their hands together, begging for sweet mercy. Y/N merely gazed at them, wide-eyed and unmoving.

“I’m afraid she won’t listen to you.” Luke made his presence known. The demigod’s eyes flickered over to him and they let out another gasp. They couldn’t beloved that Luke, the son of Hermes, the heartthrob of Camp Half-Blood was sitting idly on the sidelines while his companion was staring at them like they were an experiment. Simply a hypothesis that needed to be tested.

“She works for me. She’d kill her best friend if I told her to.” Luke gestured for Y/N to continue. The ax was raised above her head, ready to pierce the heart. Y/N swiftly swung the blade down. It buried itself in the demigod’s chest and a drowned-out scream slipped past their lips.

LET THEM LIVE,

Y/N’s eyes shook as she stared at the body in what could only be described as desperation. Desperation to land another sick blow.

Y/N lost count of how many times she raised the ax up and swung it down. All she could think about was the euphoria and giddiness rushing to her head. Blood stained her skin but she didn’t stop until the demigod was nothing but a mangled corpse, unable to be identified just by looking at their gruesome face.

Thunder crashed and lightning flickered. Rain poured down, the gods’ way of expressing their grave disappointment.

BUT DO NOT FORGET WHAT WE CANNOT FORGIVE.

Luke blew out another cloud of smoke, gazing at Y/N with his own twisted version of love. “Red looks good on you.” He uttered, spinning her around like she was in a beautiful ball gown and he was her date to prom.

Y/N laughed, the thrill of killing taking over. Luke’s lips curved into a smile. He had never heard the sound of her laugher before. And he was already intoxicated. Her lips tasted like smoke and tangy metal and he pulled her closer.

THEY ARE NOT ONE OF US, NOT OUR KIND.

PJO TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbaby @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife @niktwazny303

[inkdrinkerworld]

Dealer!remus and autistic!reader’s relationship starts off so rocky guys let me tell you!!! Angst to fluff

Remus doesn’t fully get that he can’t just say things- like he’s got to be deliberate and conscious of the words he uses and his tone.

He’s never had to do that before so it’s weird and it’s hard to learn and he slips up sometimes.

One of your biggest arguments happens when he’s frustrated and you’re just trying to help.

You’d seen him so sullen and moody on James’ story so you decided to do for him, what you do for yourself.

You baked.

But then you realized you’re not at the stage where you know his absolute favourite type of cookie so you go a little all out.

You bake chocolate chip biscoff cookies. Chocolate chip toffee cookies, regular chocolate chip and brown butter chocolate chip.

You set them in a cute box and you text Remus that you’re coming to see him. You’re thinking everything’s going to go well, you’re gonna drop the cookies off for him, maybe he’s going to tell you what’s bugging him- maybe not; either way he won’t be alone.

Except you get there and immediately you feel like you’re inconveniencing him.

Try as you might not to take it personally, it’s really hard because he seems particularly peeved at you.

“Why are you here?” His tone is sharp and jagged and it winds you a little.

“I brought you cookies to cheer you up. Saw that you weren’t yourself on James’ story,” you keep your tone even, light- a practiced thing from your days of dealing with people that didn’t quite get you.

“Why would that cheer me up?” At this point everything’s going downhill fast and you try to salvage what little is left of your deflated cheeriness and open up the box to display the array of cookies.

Remus at the same time waves his hand and the box goes pitching across his living room floor and he explodes.

You can’t remember the last time someone had yelled at you like that and honestly, it hurt more coming from Remus who was so normally relaxed and chilled.

You don’t even tell him goodbye, you just clean up all the mess while he’s cursing and yelling and then leave.

What’s twists the bloodied blade in the wound is that he doesn’t even try to stop you or reach out to you for three days.

By which point you’ve already gone mostly nonverbal and you’re in no mood to entertain or fake a personality for the sake of your friends when you do see them.

Remus stops at your house after you ignore three invitations to his place.

“Dove, I know you’re at home. Can you open the door please?” His voice is muffled through the hard wood of the door and you have half a kind to leave it shut- he’d been mean, he’d said things that were very hurtful now that you’ve actually processed what he’s said fully.

You don’t know if you can stand to see him. Then he knocks again, “I want to look at you when I apologise, sweet girl. Please open the door.” And the wholesale remorse in his tone shakes your core and you cave.

He steps inside with a box and three tulips. “I figured I’d have had to do it face to face for it to really mean anything and because I realized I was an absolute prick to you when you just came over to help.”

You don’t even hum. Usually, when he was nice Remus- as you’ve differentiated in your head - you’d be able to look him in the eyes every couple of words, but right now you just look over his shoulder.

“I shouldn’t have yelled or sworn at you like that. It wasn’t cool and I never want to speak to you like that- ever. I was an idiot and I just want to make up for it.”

There’s about a minute where Remus thinks he’s just fucked every single bit of progress you’ve both made with each other and then you let out a big breath.

“You can’t say things that you don’t mean just because you’re upset. What you said really hurt my feelings and I don’t like feeling the way you made me feel when you were that angry. If we continue to be friends you can’t do that because it makes it hard for me to trust you and find what you’re saying believable.”

Your voice is hoarse and crackly from lack of use and Remus feels even worse. “I’ll do better, I swear. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you- it’ll never be, but I am sorry that I did.”

You nod once, succinct and definitive. Remus holds out the box to you, showing a puzzle you’d been eyeing for a while.

“Can we build it together?” He asks softly, an ebb of vulnerability given away as you catch his eyes.

“Okay, but we have to do corners first, then work our way in.” Remus nods, his other hand holding the flowers for you. The tulips are a pristine white.

“The lady at the shop said they’re good for conveying apologies.”

You smile a little, “These ones are also for condolences.” Remus shakes his head,

“Not this time,” he watches you put them in a vase of water. “Also, ‘if we continue to be friends’, thought we were a little closer than friends, sweet girl?”

He relishes in the way you bite your lip to hide your grin as you take the puzzle box from him and set it up on your coffee table.

“Well I wasn’t sure if you wanted to acknowledge it or not.”

Remus says very seriously as he sits opposite you at the coffee table, ducking down so he can catch your eyes as you take out the numbered bags. “I’m always acknowledging it, we’re more than friends dove. When everything’s not so fucked, I’ll take you out and do it with pink and red lilies.”

[amomentsescape]

I'd love to see y/n making Halloween treats with the slashers from the prompt list!!!

Slashers Making Halloween Treats with You

October 2023 Halloween Prompt List

A/N: Thank you for this request! My inbox is still open and empty so feel free to send in more requests (with or without the prompts)!

Freddy Krueger

This man literally takes nothing seriously

The moment you step away from the counter, the fun pretzel treats are now wiggling fingers

Your immediate glare silences Freddy's laughs as he finally changes them back

"You're no fun"

Doesn't really help you with the process

Not because he doesn't want to, but because you refuse to let him

He doesn't want to take off his glove and would probably set the place ablaze somehow

So he's left to just watch

But he doesn't mind

He comes up behind you a lot and holds you close, peeking over your shoulder

Steals a few tastes of chocolate here and there

Will also make whatever spatulas or cups you need appear right beside you

Occasionally it's a severed head, but it wouldn't be Freddy without some dumb scares

He might not be much help in the kitchen, but he'll gladly lend a hand in tasting everything

Just don't leave him unintended

He has literally no self control

Michael Myers

Michael may not seem like the type, but he does have a bit of a sweet tooth

Halloween is clearly his favorite time of year, and it wouldn't make much sense for him to not like the occasional sugary treat

So of course, you had to take advantage of this

He doesn't really understand what you're doing (kitchen stuff isn't his thing)

It's honestly kind of cute how he just follows you around like a lost puppy, only doing what you ask of him

He'll hand you whatever supplies you need

Doesn't touch any of the food though

Wants to leave the house a couple of times, but you don't let him

Eventually decides on sitting in a chair and watching you

Will only actually help you if it involves using a knife

He doesn't enjoy doing things he's not good at, but using a blade is something he feels confident with

Honestly, anything that involves the use of a sharp object is something he'd rather do (he thinks you're too clumsy)

Just tell him and he'll do it, and he'll do it well too

You have him taste some of the ingredients along the way

He shows no reaction, but he secretly loves it

Jason Voorhees

Despite everything, Jason is still a bit of a child at heart

He doesn’t really eat, but he’s happy to be there with you (and he makes an exception here and there)

He’s very eager to help you in the kitchen!

All you have to do is ask and he’s there

It reminds him of what he and his mother used to do when he was younger

Would rather build each treat together than do it separately

This takes a lot more time, but he’s happy to spend all night doing it if it’s by your side

Loves when you give him a small kiss or a bump of your hip as you reach around him

Holds each cookie with such gentleness that you’d think it was alive

Gets all pouty if he accidentally makes a mess

But a small smile is all it takes for him to pep up again

Thomas Hewitt

The occasional piece of candy would be handed out during this time of year, but actual baked goods were rare for him

So when you brought up the idea of making some treats, Thomas was almost a bit confused

But any activity with you was quality time in his book, so he agreed

He's not much of a chef since his job is mainly to catch the food, but he tries his best

All the measuring and cooking is solely up to you, but the decorating is something he's eager for

The occasional frosting boop ends up on your nose

And sugar has somehow found its way all over the floor and table

But Thomas's excitement makes up for it all

He's not much of an artist, but they'll all taste the same

Definitely wants to lick out the bowl before you have a chance to wash it

But he's happy to help you clean after everything is done

Bubba Sawyer

This man has the biggest sweet tooth ever

Immediately jumps on the chance to make some Halloween treats with you

He not only likes sweets, but he also enjoys the process of making them

Is a bit too eager to help and ends up just throwing flour and sugar into the bowl before measuring them

Will probably need to give him a lollipop or something to calm him down a bit

Hands you all the ingredients you need

Doesn't know the difference between a 1/2 cup and 1/4 cup though

He ends up eating a good amount of the batter while you were washing your hands

So your full-sized cake was going to need to be resized

You end up settling on making cake pops

Bubba has a lot of fun rolling the dough into little balls and dipping them into the icing

He ends up getting food all over his clothing and has to change before they're done

Brahms Heelshire

It was actually his idea to make some treats in the first place

You were feeling a bit bummed that you couldn't do the normal fall things you used to do since Brahms hates leaving the house

He tried to make up for it by recommending the spooky activity

You were excited and decided to get started that night

Brahms would probably burn down the house if you tried to bake anything, so you settled on some rice krispie treats instead

He stayed by your side the entire time, but wasn't really much help until the mixing part

He jumped at the chance to stick his hand in the marshmallowy mess

However, he also tried everything in his power to eat it before you had even added the food coloring

You basically had to threaten to not sleep in bed with him that night for him to stop

Ends up adding too much food coloring

And still finds a way to eat some of treat when your back was turned

This resulted in the making of just one rice krispie treat

Norman Bates

He loves the idea and wants to make it into a date night

He lights some candles and gets the record player going

Norman isn't one for sugary sweets, but he does enjoy pie during this cooler weather

He also knows his way around the kitchen pretty well so of course he already has the recipe memorized

Wants to make everything from scratch (the filling, the crust, all of it)

Shows you the correct way to knead the dough and will stand behind you to guide your hands

Rewards you with small kisses on the forehead

Once the pies are in the oven, he takes you by the hand and dances a bit to the music while you wait

You both end up cooking an entire dinner to go along with the pies

They honestly came out delicious and the night was absolutely perfect for you two

Billy Loomis

Billy is a decent cook, he just lacks motivation

But he agrees to the idea as long as they can be Ghostface themed (you couldn't expect anything less honestly)

Will do most of the work making the batter and letting you lick the spoon

Gives you kisses in between each task

He leaves the decorating up to you though, since art isn't really his forte

He also doesn't want to get colored icing on his clothes

Of course, you have to have a scary movie playing in the background

Helps you clean up if you ask him to

Holds you to his chest while you try to work, completely distracting you the whole time

Sweet kisses along your neck

The occasional compliment in your ear

He's having a much better time than he had originally thought

Once they're done, you both have trouble waiting and immediately cut into them

The brownies are shared on the couch during your horror movie marathon

Stu Macher

So this isn't the first time you guys tried to make some treats

Cookies, cupcakes, and candies have all been attempted before only to fail

Mostly Stu's fault to be honest

He burnt pretty much everything

So you finally decided to go with the complete opposite

Milkshakes!

He sneaks a few spoonfuls of ice cream before you guys start

Spills milk on the floor and on your shirt a couple times

But the enthusiasm is there

Has a fun Halloween playlist going on in the background as well

His favorite part is rolling the glasses around in the sprinkles

Dumps half the container in his mouth first though and stains his lips black

Tries to kiss you despite your giggling protests

By the time you guys finally finish decorating the shakes, the ice cream has pretty much melted down

But they still taste great

Eric Draven

Anything that feels like normal domestic living is a win in Eric's book

He honestly looks forward to the task all week and even comes home super early that night so you two can spend time together

But of course, he somehow manages to choose the most decoratively challenging treat he possibly could

Lights some candles and leaves the window cracked, letting the cool fall air inside

Hums while he mixes ingredients together, giving you a warm smile whenever he catches your eye

Doesn't even let one drip of batter fall onto the counter

He is somehow that skilled

Wraps his arms around you and sways back and forth while you work

You leave all the bone decorating to him though

Eric is incredibly artistic, and he somehow pulls off everything he tries for the first time

The treats end up coming out just like the picture

You end the night taking turns feeding each other the little treats

[lmanburgseulogy]

Hey, yk, I'm really missing some c!niki hcs :]

L’MANBURG C!NIKI MY LOVE!!!!

• Sewed multiple L‘manburg flags overtime, not just the one on display. Her personal favorite is one made out of floral fabrics, the same of which lines her uniform.

• Once replaced the scum window sign with “visitors!” but it only lasted a day because Tommy and Jack changed it back to the original.

• Often goes on top of the L‘manburg hills to get away. She loves to lay in the tall grasses or wade in the water

• Plays acoustic guitar at their campfires, but she often follows Wilbur‘s lead instead of taking over

• Taught all of lmancrew how to do cartwheels

• For every time someone lost a canon life she put a potted poppy in the camarvan‘s window

• Has a free cookie jar for children 12 and under and also Wilbur. Because if she doesn‘t say he can take it he will steal and some battles aren‘t worth fighting

• Hate‘s wearing her uniform‘s hat and refuses to except for portraits

• Never actually watched hamilton, so misses a lot of their references

• Has the whole sleeping get up. With the candle. You know what i‘m talking about I know you do

• Once took a box cutter to some aluminum cans lids. Now they drink out of them like cups! Keeps lemonade really cold!

• Writes a lot of poetry. Most of them are odes to really weird things -> has a two person poetry club with Wilbur that they get really into. They meet in the bakery’s kitchen!

• Has adopted a stray kitten named Pebbles that stays in the bakery a lot. She also baked it cat treats!

• Only one with a bow instead of a cravat

• Carries around a messenger bag that is just filled with scones. For emergencies of course

• Had a horse named Shortcake that got killed in the pet war. Sorry I just like to think Lmancrew were a bunch of horsegirls

• Wears an antique ring everyday that her grandmother gave her. She ended up selling it during Manburg arc as a last resort to get food.

• Only wears mismatched socks intentionally

• When out of uniform wears a lot of flared jeans

• Doesn‘t often wear eyeliner at this point, but instead a lot of mascara that ends up smearing.

• Has oddly large eyes and DIMPLES!!!!

• Comically short. A little bug even. Also she‘s not skinny in L‘manburg die to my blade

• Bushy eyebrows + wears reading glasses!!!!

• Hair texture changes depending on what season it is, wavy in summer and is straight by winter

• Giggles when people call her sir sorrryyyy i can’t help but project

[qwimblenorrisstan]

A Silver Storm | HockeyPlayer!Azriel x FigureSkater!Reader

Summary: Shortly after moving to a new school for better opportunities in figure skating, you meet Rhys, Cassian, Azriel and Feyre. After accidentally getting you in trouble with a teacher, Rhys invites you to a party to make up for it, and at the party you and Azriel end up getting a lot closer than you would’ve imagined.

Word Count: ~ 3.5k

Warnings: Racism, sexism, misogyny, reader is implied to be darker skinned than most Illyrians, unclipped wings, no father figure, mentions of drinking and allusions to smut, drunk ppl

A/N: I kinda got carried away by this request, but I really like it!! I listened to Once Upon a December while listening to this (you should def go check it out) so that was also some inspo behind this, thank you to anon who requested this, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Dancing bears, painted wings

Things I almost remember

And a song someone sings

Once upon a December

Even since you’d been a child, you had been obsessed with figure skating, even just with dance in general. The flowing movements of the females as they slid gracefully across the thin, delicate-looking ice, leaving little lines behind in their silver blade’s wake. You had begged your mother and father to let you even try it, and they’d finally obliged.

It hadn’t been cheap, not with your mother being a simple laundress, and your father barely even present in your life. She had worked hours on end, hung up so much that you could swear there were little indents in her fingertips still to this day from it, or the arthritis she now suffered from, even when she tried to hide it.

She worked tirelessly just for you to have a chance at your dream, and even then it had been difficult to find any sort of dance or skating trainer for a female in your camp, Ironcrest, when misogyny was so common, especially for someone who had darker skin than most Illyrians like you and your mother did.

Some nights, you would open your little wooden jewelry box you had been given for a birthday by your aunt so many years ago, and the little skinny white girl dressed in a leotard would spin while playing a melody that always managed to soothe you, and only fuel your determination to overcome the obstacles in your way.

It had been that same aunt who’d found you an instructor, a bitter Illyrian female who acted just as old as she was, which had to be centuries at that point. Affording the basic supplies was an entirely different battle, with the knee guards, figure skates, and even the blades were too much. That woman might’ve been bitter, but she did have used supplies from her past students she borrowed to you for free.

“If you’re going to be good, you have to start with the used things.”

She’d said while shoving a knee pad onto you and saying it fit even though it felt much too tight for a child half your size to fit in. You eventually stretched the fabric until it fit over time.

She had started with the basics, working on the most simple of things like putting you on the ice of a lake nearby, and due to Illyria always being cold as hell, it had mostly been thick enough.

Except for that one time you’d fallen in. And she’d laughed.

Other than that, she’d spent her time yelling at you across a lake to keep your knees bent, and back straight, or random instructions that sounded wrong, but when you tried them, worked perfectly somehow. She might’ve been old and cooky, but she wasn’t stupid.

Over time, you had gained enough confidence in your skill to try out for your first competition at 11. It had gone horribly, you’d thrown up right beforehand, tripped and fallen, and gotten dead last.

Your mother had wiped your tears away and told you this.

“I know that it hurts sometimes, but even when life starts draggin’ you down, you just gotta get back up, honey.”

That stuck with you for a long time, and it still did now, when you were about to walk into your different school for the first time. Your mother had insisted you move to a camp where you would have better opportunities and more teachers. The competitions had picked up, and with you consistently winning a few lower ranks that earned a bit of money, you could afford better supplies and maybe even more lessons, your old teacher left behind in Ironcrest.

This school also was in a colder region of Illyria, known for its ice hockey and figure skating involvement, especially in the school you were now newly enrolled in. It was a public school, but still higher end. Even the High Lord sent his Heir here, according to rumors you’d picked up so far in the new neighborhood.

Your backpack slung over your shoulder, you walked in, already flooded with plenty of other people going to their lockers to get to home-room. You walked to yours, #128, fiddling with the lock a moment before it swung open, metal clanging against metal as the door hit the locker next to yours. The boy with his face shoved in it shot you a glare, lip curling in what looked like disgust, and you gave an apologetic smile, going back to neatly placing all your books in your locker the most organized you could in the limited time you had.

You grabbed the books you needed for Language Arts, your first class for the day, and nudged your locker shut with your foot, before craning your neck in an attempt to see above the other people, trying to figure out where the classroom even was.

“Looking for 204?”

A girl next to you, also stuck in the hord asked. You nodded, and she pointed towards the stairwell.

“It’s up the stairs, sort of to your right and the second door. You look new, so piece of advice, don’t make Mr. Greenwell mad, he gives detentions out like candy.”

You nodded again, not sure what to say.

“Alright..thanks, what’s your-?”

Before you could even get her name, she had already slipped off into another classroom, and so taking a breath, you went up the stairs as soon as you could get up, packed like sardines in the narrow stairwell. Seriously, they should get a bigger school or something.

You went to the door on the right of the hallway, two doors down, just like the girl had told you. Hesitantly peering inside, it looked like some sort of Literature class. Posters on the walls, with Nouns, Verbs, Adjectives, and Adverbs…yes, this was the right place. You walked in, finding an open seat in the second row to the back, to not attract any attention being too far back, but also not wanting to look like a teacher’s pet.

People started filing in as you organized your things, setting them in the wiry basket underneath your chair. One large male to your right, and a lean but still muscular one to your left. There was a brunette in front of you who kept talking and glancing at the male two seats down to your left, that one you recognized as the High Lord’s Heir.

The bell rang, and Mr. Greenwell began the class by writing down with chalk on his old, dusty blackboard a writing prompt. You squinted to read it, and it said,

“What changes would you make to today’s society?”

An overused prompt at best, but whatever. However, right when you went to grab a pencil, looking through your pencil pouch, you found that you had none.

“Shit,”

You muttered. You could’ve sworn you put everything in it the other night, but you’d been so tired…you easily could’ve forgotten.

“Need a pencil, sweetheart?”

You heard a teasingly arrogant voice ask from your left and turned to see the muscular male, grinning, holding out a pencil between his fingers for you to grab.

“Uh — yeah, thanks-“

Right when you went to grab it, he pulled it just out of reach, before putting it in reach and continuing this until the female in front of you sighed. Turning and pretending as if she was stretching her back to not alarm the teacher.

“Quit teasing her, Cas.”

She said, giving him a look that the Heir snorted at.

“Don’t be mean to the new girl.”

The male said, poking the ‘Cas’ in the ribs and he squirmed, finally handing the pencil over to you with a look of “Are you seeing this right now?” to you. Eventually, rolling his eyes at the Heir-male he turned to you.

“I’m Cassian, this prick is Rhys, his girl over there is Feyre, and that broody mess is Az.”

He said, offering a calloused hand that you shook, before glancing over at each of them. Rhys had the most violet eyes you’d ever seen, Feyre looked over him but she was pretty, blue-eyed, and brown-haired. ‘Az’, which you assumed was short for Azriel, was to your left, and he matched Cassian’s description, his blank face, short black hair, and dark clothing matching it.

“I’m..”

“Y/N?”

“How did you-?”

“We’ve heard of you, Rhys here has even seen you at one of those competitions.”

Cassian said with a grin, and you blinked, suddenly feeling sheepish and shy. It made sense, he was a High Lord’s son, of course, he would visit any competitions in the area or nearby, but you hadn’t ever thought about it before.

“Oh.”

You said, but before you could say anything further, the teacher’s eyes narrowed on you and the boys in the back row, his chalk clanging against the board as silence reigned in the class. Everyone glanced back at you and them, and you shut up on instinct before the male huffed and went back to teaching.

After a moment, you glanced back at Cassian, his muscular build and calloused hands.

“Do you play ice hockey, by any chance?”

You asked him with a raised brow, and he grinned, flexing his biceps.

“Yup, sure do, how’d you know? Me, Rhys, and Az actually all play together.”

He said in a prideful tone, and you saw Rhys scoff and roll his eyes again before the teacher turned to glare at the class again and you all shut your mouths for good that time, you especially as you went to turn back to the front of the class.

You offered a small smile at Cassian, and he grinned back, crumpling up a piece of paper into a small ball and tossing it full speed at the back of Mr. Greenwell’s head, and hitting it right on target, at which the teacher wheeled and glared at the class.

“Who was it.”

He snapped, and a beat of silence took over the classroom before he walked down the aisle, glaring at you, even though you just stared back, wondering why he was focusing on you.

“Hallway, Y/N.”

He said in a stern tone, and suddenly everyone’s eyes were on you, including Cassian’s wider ones. Your eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression on your face, including a bit of defensiveness creeping into your voice.

“Why? I didn’t do anything.”

“Stop talking back, I know what your people are like.”

You physically recoiled at that, anger now flooding through you.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

You asked, defiantly staring down the man.

“It means you don’t know when to shut your mouth, and you now have a detention on Tuesday for it. I’d take a lesson from a proper female.”

Before you could even open your mouth to say anything to such an awful thing, even though you were used to it by now for your darker skin and unclipped wings, Azriel spoke up.

“It was me. I threw it.”

He said quiet but also firm. The teacher looked him over, shaking his head even as Cassian and Rhys gaped at the shadowsinger, as they’d never heard him take up for anyone else in such a manner, let alone not even knowing you for more than all of five minutes.

“Nice try, but I’m not believing it.”

He said, before turning to you again.

“Hallway.”

He said firmly, walking out of the classroom as you were forced to follow, Cassian giving you an apologetic glance.

*********************************************************

After what might’ve been the worst mental lashing you’d ever gotten from an adult other than your mother, you’d been forced to collect your things and spend the class time down at the principal’s office before your next class started.

When it finally did, Rhys, Cassian, and Feyre met you in the hallway, seemingly seeking you out.

“Sorry ‘bout that, he’s an ass.”

Cassian said, sheepishly grinning, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. Feyre and Rhys both glared at him, before turning to you.

“Seriously, I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

Feyre said, and Rhys raised a brow.

“He’s alive, that’s what’s wrong with him.”

He said drily, and you and they shared a good laugh at that, but Rhys paused, before talking to you.

“We’re having a party next Monday at 6 if you’d like to come. We’ll have drinks.”

He offered, and you considered it. You weren’t a party person or a drinker. In fact, you weren’t a fan of chaotic, packed, and loud events, you preferred the cold mist of the lakes in Illyria as you slid across the ice. But you needed friends, and a party at the popular boy’s house sounded decent.

“I have practice, but I could probably get there at 6:30?”

You said in an unsure tone, and Cassian grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“You’ll love it, I promise. They’re always a blast, even if the little shadowsinger’s still broody as ever. Y’know, I think he likes you.”

He said in a teasing, suggestive tone, and Feyre rolled her eyes.

“You say that about any two people who are within five feet of each other, Cas.”

She said with a groan, and Rhys snickered, arm snaking around her waist. Cassian sighed in an exasperated manner.

“Whatever, but I’ve got a feeling about this one.”

He said, giving you a pat on the back, and a final grin before he disappeared into the rest of the crowd, and you could’ve sworn you saw a shadow by your foot that quickly darted away, or a pair of hazel eyes in the crowd that were gone as soon as you saw them.

*********************************************************

“You sure about this?”

Your mother asked with a raised brow as she parted your hair in a straight line for you, doing it just like you loved it. You were in a simple dress, not overly revealing, your mother would die before letting you go out like that, but also not too modest. Toeing the line was something you’d gotten good at. A glance towards the clock.

6:35

Sure, the practice had ended a little late, but your new instructor was somehow even harder on you than the old female you were used to, and stricter at that. Your body was sore and your thighs were aching, but you’d manage.

“Yes, mama. It’s just a party with friends, I’ll be alright.”

After your annoyingly long and unfair detention on Tuesday, the trio and Feyre had made it their personal mission to introduce you to everyone in the school they knew, which was a lot of people, and they’d also shown you all around the building (including under the specific stairwell where every couple made out) and taught you the tips and tricks of every class and the teachers.

It had been very helpful, other than Cassian constantly trying to push you and Azriel together or make you two interact, which rarely succeeded, but when it did it just resulted in a short, dry conversation that ended quicker than it had started.

You’d also managed to make more friends, including on the figure skating team that you’d joined shortly after. The party night had arrived.

“Don’t sass me, you know I’m just worried for my little girl.”

Your mom said, looking you over as she finished your hair and stood up. You laughed lightly.

“I’m not little anymore, mama, you know that.”

Your mother sighed, rolling her eyes.

“You’re still little to me, and that’s what matters. Now hurry up, and grab a jacket.”

She said, handing you somehow the ugliest jacket in the entire household and giving you a kiss on the cheek before shooing you out of the door and sending you well on your way.

You hung the jacket on the chair on the porch and started walking. His house wasn’t far, even if the chill of the cold night nipped at your skin. That jacket was far too ugly to wear, though, you were willing to bear the cold.

By the time you arrived, it had been at least fifteen minutes and his house was farther away than you’d thought.

The house was bustling when you walked in, and you saw drunk girls with males equally as intoxicated sloppily all over each other, or some playing beer pong, some leaning against walls, watching the girls dance or idly talking. Rhys grinned at you from where he was standing with Feyre next to a pool table.

“I almost thought you chickened out,”

He said, voice lazy and smug per usual, and you rolled your eyes, laughing as you went to the kitchen and grabbed a drink. In minutes Cassian had already found himself a female to busy himself with, luring her off to a counter where you could hear them sloppily making out, Rhys was off doing gods know what with Feyre since they’d snuck off into his room. Everything was a bit too loud for your liking, and the makes a bit too handsy, and so, seeing a backyard porch with the door barely cracked, you decided to slip out.

The cold night’s chill once again nipped at your skin as you walked out, pouring your cup out into the grass, only to then find yourself face-to-face with Azriel. His shadows were all out, unrestrained, and swirling around him and on him. Some went to touch you, their whispered touches on your ankles making your eyes widen.

“Oh..uhm..hi?”

You offered, putting your now empty cup on the wood railing of the porch. He glanced from the cup to the spot on the grass where you’d dumped it, and a hint of a smile graced his lips.

“What?”

You then demanded, wanting to know if he was laughing at you. He shook his head, taking in a breath before his shadows were leashed back to him.

“Nothing, I just didn’t think you were the type to not like alcohol.”

You raised a brow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You asked in a defensive tone, stepping closer and looking up at him. He seemed almost surprised, eyes widening as he realized that what he’d said was mildly offensive if someone took it wrong. He stammered a moment, looking more flustered than you’d ever seen him.

“That’s not what I….”

He sighed.

“You seem like the type to enjoy parties, since you’re so..friendly, I guess, is what I’m trying to say.”

He said in an unsure tone. You snorted in laughter.

“Not really. I kind of hate parties. Too loud and-“

“Overwhelming?”

He finished for you, and you both just stared for a moment. You’d assumed he wasn’t a party person, since he was so quiet and reserved, but he hadn’t thought the same about you.

“Yeah..”

He swallowed, looking nervous.

“Sorry if I offended you earlier, even if that was just a few seconds ago, I didn’t mean to assume anything, but-“

He was rambling on and on, voice gradually growing quiet until you gently grabbed his hand, now only inches from him. His hands were scarred, burns probably, the deep ridges showing as much.

“It’s fine. I don’t care that much.”

You said in a soft tone, and his eyes widened, shadows creeping up to embrace you, and you didn’t mind them so much when you got used to it.

“Sorry, I-“

He mumbled, trying to pull away, but you didn’t let him.

“Stop saying sorry. You haven’t done anything.”

You said in a confused tone with a raised brow. He swallowed, not looking like he knew what to do. He glanced back at the party, then at you, and you could hear the cogs turning in his head.

“Do you want to..get out of here? I know a place.”

He said shyly, and you smiled, nodding, and he led you from the yard with the hand you were still holding, keeping it still even while hopping fences, climbing up a hill, and helping you climb up an old, ancient tree, where there was one strong branch that the leaves perfectly parted to show the night sky and the moon during this period it was in.

“It’s beautiful.”

You breathed as you sat down next to him, easing onto the cold, rough branch, his calloused hand still holding to yours, this time seeming willful to do so. He agreed, quietly nodding, his wing slowly inching around to wrap around you as you both watched the twinkling stars.

The feeling was as euphoric as winning a competition in the ice rink when you slowly leaned into his warmth, and he let you, one hand gently wrapped around your waist to hold you close.

Despite the chill in the air, you couldn’t find it within yourself to worry about anything regarding a jacket, or anything at all like Mr. Greenwell and his comments about your skin and manners, or the others at the party, or anything besides this beautiful male who slowly leaned into you, mirroring your actions.

In that moment, it was just the two of you, watching the sky together on a magical night.

Someone holds me safe and warm

Horses prance through a silver storm

Figures dancing gracefully

Across my memory

[thursdaygxrls]

thin ice — four

part one | part two | part three | part four

summary — kitty is yet again dragged to a social gathering she would rather not attend. the bait this time? weed!

paring — uni hockey player!peter parker x fem!(journalist)!reader

disclaimer — who is expecting me to own peter parker by now?? bc i don’t

warnings — reader is referred to as ‘kitty,’ weed, slightly inexperienced reader (experienced peter, no smut yet im sorry), possible ooc

Days like these were the ones Kitty craved: hazy, chilly spring weather that resembled fall, except that dying leaves were replaced by cherry-red buds, and flowers bloomed through blades of grass. It was one of those days with no responsibilities to fill her precious hours—the ones that were spent scrolling through Pinterest and reading. She was stretched haphazardly along her bed, still dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt with holes in the armpits. The blinds were still closed, so the sudden beam of light next to her startled her.

“You love interrupting my dark-dwelling time,” she hissed as MJ entered the room. Sticking out her tongue, MJ closed the door behind her and sealed off the obnoxious light, much to Kitty’s relief.

“I’m sorry, my sun-hating princess,” MJ spoke dramatically as she rummaged through her bag, “But, I come bearing gifts.”

At this, Kitty perked up, swiping out of Project Makeover and sitting up to devote her full attention to her roomate. From her bag, MJ produced two plastic-wrapped chocolate-chip cookies and tossed them to bed. The girl pounced on them, immediately tearing into the plastic on one of the packs.

“I forgive you,” she said before biting into the treat.

“Thank God,” MJ replied in dramatic relief. Ease settled over the room as MJ removed her jacket and went about unpacking her things. Kitty, now finished with her first cookie, tossed the used plastic to the trash can across the room (and missed horribly). 

“What’ve you been up to this lovely Friday?” She asked her freckled friend, who was currently changing out of her cable knit sweater. 

“Oh, you know, class,” MJ responded as she slid a Stevie Nicks shirt over her head, “Some people still have class on Fridays.”

“That must be heartbreaking,” Kitty hummed sarcastically, “Anything else?”

“Oh, yeah,” MJ’s movements were smooth as she went through her bag, “I had lunch with Harry after class.”

“Was the dining hall romantic?” Kitty questioned with a smile.

“Totally,” MJ responded with a laugh, “The black-bean burgers are basically aphrodisiacs. Anyways, he invited us out to Hot Rock around eight, so I was thinking we could get dinner–”

“No, thanks,” Kitty intercepted, bringing her legs up closer to her torso and flattening her lips to a line, “I’m not leaving the dorm today.”

“If you had it your way, you’d do that every day,” MJ groaned.

“And?’ Kitty quirked a brow, causing another grumble to leave her counterpart.

“Do you realize how much I say ‘no’ to stuff?” She continued, “‘Kitty, wanna go to a hockey game?’ No. ‘Kitty, wanna go to a frat party?’ No. Our entire relationship exists on the basis of you wanting to do stuff and me trying to refuse.”

“But you still went,” MJ raised her brows hopefully, “To both things. And it’s not like it’s just going to be Harry, he said some other people would be there.”

“Oh, great, other people, you know how much I love social gatherings where I don’t know anyone.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“You know Peter,” MJ suggested. Kitty hadn’t seen Peter in a while. ‘A while,’ in her case, was a week. She’d gotten some semi-regular texts from him (cat memes and open invites to hang out) but hadn’t seen him since the frat party.

“Is it the best use of their time to be at Hot Rock when the semi-finals are two days away?” Kitty asked.

“No, probably not, but,” MJ’s smile, which had been dimming, came back with full vibrance, “But we can reap the benefits of their deviant behavior.”

“Are the benefits better than chocolate chip cookies?” She hummed.

“Pre-rolls and a bong,” MJ wiggled her fingers in a tamer version of jazz hands. Kitty seemed to deflate with a loud sigh.

“I hate that you make me do things.”

Hot Rock existed on the older, suburban side of campus. Right behind one of the major dining halls was a small, hidden space that hit the blind spot of the security cameras in the area. It wasn’t a rock so much as an artificial slab of stone with a metal pipe attached that spewed hot steam. It was connected to the heating system in the dining hall, but also served as a popular spot for stoners. A few of these man-made smoke spots were scattered around campus, but this one was the most popular, mainly because this rock was always much hotter than the others.

Kitty’s breath appeared in small puffs in the night air and she and MJ walked around the corner of the dining hall. It was spring, and the weather was getting warmer, but there was still a bit of frost. As they shuffled down a small slope, the rock revealed itself, decorated with about four people, one of them being Harry.

“MJ!” He nearly fell over himself scrambling towards the pair. He pressed a small kiss to her lips and wrapped an arm around her in greeting. MJ giggled, choosing to ignore Kitty’s gagging face.

“Kitty-cat!” Harry directed his grinning face to her, “I’m so glad MJ got you out of your tree.”

“I almost wish you’d just call me ‘bitch’ instead of that,” she replied. Harry, not losing any vigor, laughed.

“I know what you need.” He wagged his brows as he reached into the breast pocket of his flannel. He produced a mini pre-rolled joint with a proud grin, “Kitty needs her catnip.”

“I’m gonna let that one slide,” she said, and he simply chuckled. His eyes moved from hers, and somehow his impossibly bright smile widened. Kitty turned and was met with a familiar pair of hazel eyes.

“I’m a big fan of catnip, too,” Peter grinned, sliding down to meet the rest of the group.

“Hey, Peter,” Harry let go of MJ for a moment to give Peter a half-hug. Peter’s eyes, however, never let go of Kitty. He held her gaze with ease.

“Can we sit? My ass is cold,” MJ grumbled lightly as Harry took his post next to her.

“Of course, of course,” was Harry’s hurried reply. The four found spots on the rock, Harry returning to his original spot and taking MJ with him. Kitty settled in a small nook where the slab met a natural rock formation, and, as if she was a magnetic pole, Peter sat next to her. A few awkward introductions were shared with the others at the rock, though, it was clear they were all at least a few hits into Harry’s pre-rolls. 

“So,” Peter’s voice cracked through the silence, “We keep finding each other, don’t we?”

“You keep finding me,” Kitty corrected.

“Same difference,” he shrugged. Wordlessly, he slipped his backpack from his shoulder and set it down in front of him. He worked in surprising order as he removed the items: a grinder, a small, rolled-up plastic bag, a green bong that had seen better days.

“Are student athletes supposed to be smoking?” She asked. For once, his gaze wasn’t focused on her, but on the contents before him.

“Helps with nerves,” he said, grabbing the baggy, “It’s medical, y’know.”

“Hm, I bet,” she replied. He worked with diligence: his long, slender fingers plucked a chunk of bud from the bag and trapped it in the grinder. The sleeves of his black long sleeve were rolled up, revealing his wrist that tensed lightly when he ground the bud. She’d never quite noticed how strong his hands looked—veiny and taught, likely from the hours upon hours of hockey practice. Then came the realization that she was staring, which pulled her attention away from him and to the others on the rock. Though there weren’t many people, pockets of conversation were created: MJ and Harry, who were cuddled up and passing a joint, two other members of the hockey team and a girl with shaggy blonde hair, and, of course, her and Peter. 

“Alright,” Peter hummed in satisfaction as he packed the bowl. He grabbed a red lighter from the front pocket of his jeans and finally looked at Kitty. He held the bong out for her with one of those easy, boyish smiles, “Wanna do the honors, Y/n?”

Peter seemed to be good at evoking emotions from her. Annoyance, frustration, confusion, and now, prickly embarrassment. She licked her lips, looking from the bong and back to him.

“Um,” she let out a small cough, “I’m…not sure how to?”

She wasn’t new to smoking. There was the occasional joint she and MJ would indulge in, or maybe she would take a hit off cart at one of the parties she was dragged to. She’d just hadn’t gotten the chance to hit a bong before—a fact that didn’t bother her until she was here, staring at Peter. She hated her reply and the way she stumbled with her words. She hated that she had nothing better to say. She hated that she had released blood into the water.

“You haven’t done this before?” He grinned. Her jaw clenched at the way he said that. Kitty, in response, sucked her teeth.

“Have you never smoked before?” He cocked his head.

“No, I have, just not this,” she sighed, a slight aggravated clip to her words. Peter must’ve noticed because his gloating grin softened.

“That’s alright,” his voice was more mellow now, “That’s okay, everyone has a first time.”

This persona, the calmer one he adapted when he knew she was getting pissed off, may have pissed her off even more. If he wasn’t being an asshole, it was harder to be annoyed with him, which made her annoyed with him, which made her annoyed with herself.

“Okay,” she said, a cleansing breath of chilled spring air filling her lungs.

“Okay?” He repeated, “You want to try?”

Kitty glanced at MJ and Harry. They weren’t doing anything graphic, but they were still all over each other, giggling and whispering. She turned back to Peter and nodded.

“You sure?” He raised a brow.

“Gimme,” she groaned, taking the glass bong from his hands. He let out a small, breathy chuckle and nodded.

“Okay, so,” he sat up, “I’m gonna light it, you breathe in through the mouth right here. I’ll pull the bowl for you and you keep breathing in, okay?”

Kitty nodded, her lips descending on the mouthpiece. A sudden flash of panic struck her as he flicked the lighter. Did she look stupid? Was she being stupid? Why did she care? Peter lit the bowl, and she did as he said, sucking in a deep drag. The bong bubbled to life and milky smoke flooded the tube.

“Good, good,” Peter encouraged as he pulled the bowl, “Keep sucking in—there you go, just like that.”

She’d been doing fine until he’d spoken. His words, meant as innocent encouragement, sent blood rushing to her face. Her scalp burned as her head reared back and ragged coughs escaped her. Smoke left her lips in puffs, like dust being stirred from an old book. Peter patted her back with one hand and rummaged through his bag with another.

“That happens,” he spoke, unphased by her continuous coughing. He took a metal water bottle decorated in stickers in various states of wear from his bag and unscrewed the lid.

“Here, drink,” he brought it to her lips and she immediately sucked down the water. It was cold against her burning throat. She focused on how cool it was, hoping it would also subdue the burning in her face. A few gulps later, Kitty was back to a semi-normal state. She took in deep breaths, swirling in oxygen with the cannabis in her lungs. 

“That was a big-ass hit. Good job,” Peter chuckled, “When was the last time you smoked?”

“I don’t know, a few weeks ago? And thank you,” Kitty replied. There wasn’t a hint of snark in her words, which was highly unusual. The afterburn of her influx of new feelings was still there.

“That oughta do it,” he took the bong from her, “I mean, you can totally have more, but your tolerance is probably pretty low, and the hit you just took looked more like three.”

“Yeah, that oughta do it,” she coughed out. He eyed her, suspicious of her lack of sass, before lighting the bowl for himself.

The bong caught up with her within ten minutes. There was a low vibration in her body, one that pulsed in her fingertips and warmed her. Her vision was a bit more narrow now, like she was viewing movie through her vision. Her mind bubbled, and when her eyes caught a glimpse of the sky, she leaned back with astonished glee.

It wasn’t often that you saw stars in the sky on this side of New York. Usually, the city lights blocked out anything non-artificial. But here, a mile or so away from the more prominent lights, she was able to see the glimmer of distant stars. It was captivating, really, and she could’ve stared at them for hours. Maybe she did. People buzzed around her without her recognition. Even Peter seemed to settle into a comfortable silence next to her. 

“Do you remember that one episode of Hannah Montana where Miley moves into a new house and there’s a pizza oven? Like, one of those wood ovens you put pizza in. A pizza oven? Yeah?” She asked, glancing in Peter’s direction. He seemed to only slightly register the question before looking at her with a cocked brow.

“No,” he replied.

“Oh,” she hummed, “What about the one where—it’s the third episode, I think—the one where Oliver—no, it’s the second episode—the one where Oliver is in love with Hannah Montana, but he doesn’t know it’s Miley, so Miley and Lilly are like ‘oh, no!’” 

“No,” he repeated. His voice wasn’t harsh, though. It was soft, maybe even curious.

“It’s good,” she said, “Real good. Real good.” 

It was around then that the stars began to lull her to sleep. There was something comfortable about this moment: the heat of the rock, the stars, the weed in her system. She drifted off for a moment and was quickly awoken by a gentle shake.

“Y/n?” Peter called lightly, “Are you sleepy?”

His hand was on her arm. His hand was on her arm. Her eyes settled on that before she could even begin to process his words. His hand was lovely, truly, with its web of veins, the slender fingers that warmed her skin. She looked up to him and smiled.

“Hey!” Was her cheery reply. He laughed at this and nodded. Kitty cocooned inside herself once more as he turned away and called out to someone on the other side of the rock. She heard Harry, then MJ, then Peter again. It sounded like hearing a foreign language as the spoke.

“Would you like to sleep in your bed instead of this rock?” Peter asked. Kitty, still cocooned, sprung forward a bit.

“Yes,” she responded confidently. He couldn’t help but smile at her tone. He packed away his bag swiftly and stood, offering a hand to Kitty.

“You think I can’t stand up? Oh, I can stand up—I’m an olympic stander,” she mumbled, rejecting his hand. This side of her was something Peter had never experienced. He was used to snippy comments and sharp replies, but the inebriated, bumbling Kitty was an entirely different person. He liked it. A lot.

They began their trek back to Kitty’s dorm in silence. It was comfortable like this: quiet interrupted by the occasional off-key hum by the girl. It wasn’t a very far walk, only five minutes or so, and when they reached the front, Peter’s tight grin loosened a bit.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” he said, his hand gently catching her arm. In this state, she wasn’t able to deny the electric current that was sent through her nervous system. Kitty shivered as she met his eyes.

“I know you’re not in the right headspace for this, so I’ll ask you again later, but…” he trailed off. He looked away from her, and she caught the way his throat bobbed slightly. This lasted for only a moment before he was making eye contact again, “Do you wanna come to semis?”

That wasn’t the question she expected. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Instead of responding, she stared blankly at him.

“It’s not here, it’s actually kind of far away,” he was rambling now, “Well, not super far, it’s in New Jersey. It’s sort of late notice, so I know you might not want to go, and you have your own shit to worry about, too, so—”

“This is very weird,” Kitty interrupted.

“What?” Peter stopped, looking to her with a quirked brow.

“You’re acting nervous and talking a lot. Weird,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I am nervous, and I’m a little high, and you’re really hot, so there’s just a lot going on up here.” He gestured to his head. Her eyes were blank for several seconds before they sparked in recognition.

“Oh—oh.” Her expression changed rapidly, eventually landing on something akin to realization. Silence swelled between them for a moment before it was broken by one word: “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Peter repeated.

“Maybe,” she nodded in agreement. His lips tugged into a boyish smile once more.

“Okay, Y/n,” he grinned, “Maybe.”

a/n — (in the voice of that one meme) heyy….how y’all doin??? okay so im sorry that this update is months late, college has been a lot. it’s been fun tho!! like, i think im the happiest ive ever been. anyways, im sorry if this update doesn’t fit as well with the others, im trying to get back into the groove of writing, forgive me 🙏 love u guys!!

taglist

@reidslovely @awezomezauce @tarzinnia @fr3akho3 @multilovebot @collywobbl @naok-iyuu @kay-i-guess @littlexscarletxwitch @ujimoo

[the-joju-experience]

Scar inhaled, relaxing his shoulders for a second. He then steeled himself and began the trek to Doc’s base. When he got there, he found the mad scientist eating a bucket of popcorn.

“Hiya, Doc!” Scar said. “I’m glad you’re enduring the merchandise.”

“It’s a consolation prize,” Doc said. “Do you know how loud your park is?”

“It’s all part of the charm,” Scar said.

“You say charm, I say noise,” Doc said. “Is this about the polls?”

“Oh, yeah,” Scar said. “I just wanted to make sure there are no hard feelings and no creepers, none of that really. Especially about the bracket.”

“Do I scare you?” Doc asked playfully.

“No, no!” Scar said. “You just create a sense of foreboding.”

“Thank you,” Doc said. “I try very hard.”

“I guess it’s not easy being green, huh?” Scar asked.

Doc stared blankly.

“Gotcha!” Scar said. He shot off into the air, flying away before Doc could shoot him with an arrow.

—

Etho loitered by rock outside Mumbo’s vault, watching the slimes hop around aimlessly.

“How did all these get here?” Etho asked to no one in particular. “I thought the slime farm didn’t work.”

He walked towards the opened vault door and peered inside. As he descended, he heard the low growls of the zombies that had colonized the building. Etho groaned in annoyance, pulling out some torches to light up the staircase.

“This is what happens when you don’t upload regularly, Mumbo,” Etho said. He reached the bottom, where Slimecicle had left a trail of carnage. In the center of the room the challenger had left a mess of signs, many of which could not be safely read in a video (except maybe by Cleo).

“Now, what are we supposed to do?” Etho asked.

“It’s quite simple, really.”

—

Wilbur heard his door rattling again.

“Joe, I told you already! I don’t want a shulker full of blue dye!” The door kept rattling. “Fine,” Wilbur said. He opened the door reluctantly, but was thrown to the side when the door fell off its hinges and BDubs sprinted in. The mossy man scrambled around, hastily replacing the door.

“You’ve gotta help me!” BDubs shouted.

“What’s going on?” Wilbur asked.

“It’s Cleo! She’s crazy!” BDubs said.

“I’m sorry, you’re on the run from ZombieCleo?” Wilbur asked.

“Yeah! It’s the Sexyman bracket! She’s out to get me!” BDubs said.

“I’m pretty sure they know it’s a joke,” Wilbur said. “I mean, no one’s taking it that seriously.”

“You’ve never had to deal with Cleo when they have a reason to get you,” BDubs said. “I’m not safe anywhere, man.”

“So why would you come here? I don’t want to be involved in this!” Wilbur protested.

“I can’t go anywhere Cleo can find me! Please!” BDubs begged.

Wilbur heard another knock on the door.

“Oi, Wilbur Soot?” They both heard Cleo say. “I hear you’ve got a friend of mine. I’ve got to tell him something.”

—

Joe swept the sand out of his eyes as he approached the city. Checking his map again, he confirmed that he was headed towards the right place, and then he continued to the central plaza.

When he got there, Quackity was sharpening a sword.

“Howdy, Quackity!” Joe said. “It’s great to meet you. Your fans were pretty generous last round.”

“They’ve learned their lessons well. Everything’s a business deal,” Quackity said. “Even this.”

“Well, I don’t really agree with that,” Joe said. “I mean, it’s great if everyone involved can financially benefit from something, but sometimes you just have to do it for the art of the thing, and I think that’s a personal choice you should be able to make.”

“That is where you’re wrong, Joe Hills,” Quackity said. “You will taste my blade like so many of my enemies have before.”

“I usually bake my enemies cookies and then they stop being my enemies, but I guess that works too,” Joe said.

“The last time someone gave me a cookie it was after they asked me to kill a man,” Quackity said.

“Do you want to change that? I happen to have some on me,” Joe said.

The next thing Quackity knew, he and Joe were enjoying some of Scar’s Elven Cookies.

“…and the next thing I knew, there was a giant moon crashing into my house!” Joe finished.

Quackity laughed.

[nomsfaultau]

scp sbi+ eating fortune cookies

Tommy: scoffs immediately and says he just wants the cookie. Secretly takes the fortune very seriously (except everyone knows).

The Blade: just eats the cookie. Doesn’t care. The voices whine about wanting to see the fortune and he sighs and digs it out of the trash for their amusement.

Philza: gets annoyed at the fortune for being vague or giving bad advice. Like on the whole he thinks it’s a cute human thing and encourages everyone to do it until he’s staring at some stupid fortune in his hands and is unreasonably irritated by it.

Wilbur: eats it. The entire thing, paper and all. Not because paper is tasty (though it is) but because he hates anything telling him what to do, he’s not going to let a stupid cookie tell HIM what to do, he can make his OWN DECISIONS, DAD.

Tubbo: is so very normal and gets a cute little fortune (Tubbo had bees sort through all of the fortunes to get them the ‘best’ one).

Slimecicle: leaves the cookie to dissolve in acid and three months later spits out the prophecy and takes it as a sign from God.

[goth-boots]

👹 Baki Headcanons 👹

Fear me for I have dedicated my life to writing silly, goofy Baki headcanons and scenarios >:D

Dealing with depression my way 💪🏽 (but if we are to talk seriously, please, go get yourself a therapist, they know how to help)

P.S. Btw I'm not that good at prepositions ;-;

So, uh, enjoy these headcanons o' mine. Write in the comments who you'd like to see in part 2. Hope you like it :3❤️

School Subjects (part 1)

Baki

- He doesn't care about most of the classes;

- Most of the time he daydreams or sleeps;

- But when it gets to astronomy he seems interested;

- "Are there any aliens? Are they stronger than us? 🤔";

- Now Kozue, Retsu and others know a lot about planets, black holes and theories about Moon being an artificial satellite and other galaxies where nonhuman civilizations live;

- Watched dozens of sci-fi movies about different creatures and other worlds;

- Almost decided to go to a space station, but Kozue somehow stopped him;

- "You know, that'd be awesome to meet an alien";

- Please, don't tell him about Area 51.

Kaoru

- Have you seen him near school?

- Overall he has good grades even though he rarely goes to school;

- Nobody would ever give him C or B! (for their safety and in general Kaoru is pretty smart so there's no need to give him low marks);

- But he has an interest in history, especially in Sengoku period;

- "These weapons look weird... I wonder if it was hard to break them";

- Sometimes outsmarts his teachers by pointing out at their mistakes;

- May bring his favourite books with him, so the time will pass faster;

- "School is disappointing. Interesting, how Baki is doing? 🧐";

- Can stand up in the middle of a class and leave because.. he can?

Jack

- Didn't pay attention in classes;

- Instead always studied at home;

- And had excellent grades 😳;

- "When is the break? I'm already hungry.";

- Didn't like every subject equally, except for math, biology and health & physical education (those 3 were "fine");

- Some biology topics like anatomy interested him;

- PE was a mandatory for him (sometimes he liked it, sometimes he didn't);

- Always had pills in his backpack;

- Was bullied, but tried not to pay attention to it;

- "Uhuh, so that's on what I was missing.. Well, now let's go to the gym to try it out, I guess?";

- Was annoyed by those who tried to protect him from bullies;

- Graduated, but wanted to drop out.

Retsu

- Probably didn't attend a public school;

- Temple was his everything;

- Surprisingly was and still is good at calligraphy;

- "This stroke looks off..... RRRAAGH!!";

- Suffered every time when he needed to concentrate on something;

- Tried to be more patient. Failed multiple times;

- Enjoyed cooking, and now knows how to make almost every traditional Chinese dish 😋;

- When Baki asked him to look at his physics homework, Retsu kind of malfunctioned;

- "Uhuh, so this is it. Right. But what about this part... 等等，我不應該懂這種程度的日文.";

- But he's always willing to learn something new!

Doyle

- Studied really hard, but after some time got disappointed with teachers and the whole educational system;

- Was actually liked by teachers and had a couple of acquaintances among classmates;

- Favourite subjects were science, biology, and design & technology;

- "What do you think.. Can I get CIPA? ... Nah, wishful thinking";

- Planned to install blades in his joints from school;

- In general he's a smart cookie;

- Was never bullied, but ignored;

- "I need to learn chemistry.. What type of metal is incompatible with human body? 🧐";

- Dropped out.

[walpu]

WALPIE WALPIE HEAR ME OUT I HAVE A FUNNY CONCEPT FOR A FOXIAN READER/OC THAT RUNS A SMALL CAFE IN THE LUOFU, EXCEPT A BUNCH OF FAMOUS/IMPORTANT PEOPLE CONSTANTLY COME IN AND READER/OC HAS NO CLUE WHO TEHY ARE AND DOES NOT CARE "- so you're telling me you really dont know who i am? - yeah you're the guy that comes in 10 minutes before closing time every wednesday and who i had to kick out because you brought your lion in one time" (-average exchange with the luofu general)

"-what are you doing, dont let that guy in!! hes dangerous !! - come on sushang i know hes scary looking but thats mean! this is blade, hes one of the regulars. always buys the little fortune cookies to bring to his roommates back home, just so sweet."

nobody knows if they're genuienly oblivious or not but no one has the heart to break to them that their favorite customer is a wanted intergalactic criminal

Well in their defense it's not like you can actually kick any of those people out 😭

[pristmaticrosevein]

Prismatic Rose AU (RWBY)

The poll chain is getting a little long and convoluted, so I created a new blog to hold everything.

The polls won't be a single answer. Instead I'll try to work all of the answers together, based off the number of votes each answer gets. If I can, of course.

Aura is present, but is more like DBZ power levels than how it functions in RWBY. A shot to the heart will be as fatal to a Human Huntsman as it would be to anyone else.

Firearms are regular firearms. Dust is instead used to craft weapons, like is alluded to by Ironwood, but never actually seen in the story.

Conclusions:

Jaune Arc

Humble Everydude

Jaune picks up a Broken Sword, his power repairs his sword, can generate a shield, and armour.

When depressed or in a deep fury his sword stays broken, and his armour is rusted. He is nearly invincible, but lacks any real control.

When happy, he literally glows from the light he emits.

Later learns to use and even combine both.

Attacked by Grimm, saved by Ruby. The Grimm was a Gryphon and a number of Beowulves.

Genre: Dark Souls

Ruby Rose

Werewolf: She learns to control her Human / Wolf forms.

Eventually unlocks a middle Wolfen form.

Silver Eyes: Her silver eyes are part of her Werewolf curse, from her connection to the moon. Eventually allows her to dispel darkness and inflict Lunacy.

Strongly dislikes bright sunlight, finding it oppressive. Will hide under her red hood in bright daylight.

Dislikes sitting around and doing nothing. As she learns to open up to her friends, hanging with them counts as doing something.

Dame Sister of the Order of the Sanguine Rose. Still a Novice, (no oath), but she was a Squire, and got her Accolade because of being a natural when fighting the forces of darkness.

Werewolves are normally turned over to the Church. Faith in God is the best way to gain control of their powers. Others can do so by living with wolf packs in the wilds, though they are rarely trusted.

Regeneration: Turned off with Silver, Fire, and direct sunlight. Indirect sunlight dims it. She's mostly fine in her cloak and hood, but better a night.

Extremely high metabolism. She can get blood thirsty if she doesn't eat, but sugar works extremely well. I.e. cookies are MANDATORY.

Pain causes her rage to ignite.

Shield of Faith and Miracle Die: 40K SoB reference. I'll explain if anyone asks.

Powered armour powered by prismatic energies. Summoned with transformation sequence. The catalyst for the transformation is a crescent moon broach with a deep red ruby.

Any equipment she holds while transforming gets turned into a magical girl version of it, like Ghost Rider.

Her scythe, Lunamaria, is made with a steel edge, and an iron blade inlaid with mythril and quicksilver. This allows her to defeat most dark foes without calling upon her moonfallen abilities.

Her Bolt Pistol, Lunalapina, uses custom made rounds, (made a lot easier with Dust forging equipment). She owns rounds customized to fight most dark things. Once converted, her mag changes use her prismatic energy to refill them. Think similar to Dante, but she still has to reload.

She can do something similar to Petal Burst while transformed, except more prismatic.

She can do a less conspicuous long-range teleportation that is guided by her faith, i.e. it cannot be used arbitrarily.

Pyrrha Nikos

A literal angel.

Angels are forbidden from most direct interventions. The exception is for the Creatures of Grimm, or other nefarious beings.

Angels can only whisper into your ear. Devils have the same restriction, but are not known for being good at following rules.

Often the intervention of angels will be perceived, (by the imperceptive), as luck. Others might see them in dreams.

Angels can only directly interact with people who have enough spiritual strength to fully perceive them.

She brought Ruby to save Jaune.

Weiss Schnee

Boreal Elf

Went to Thule University.

Major in Spellcrafting, the most difficult discipline that actually crafts new spells.

Magic affinities are Water, Wind, and Light.

Equipped with the mystical rapier Myrtenaster.

Can summon a Auroran Horse or a Kelpie. Auroran Horses work like Ruin from Darksiders, but made from light that blends into the darkness. Kelpies are water fey horses that are known for their... ill temperament. Will often act out against those that Weiss is irate with. Thoroughly enjoys chewing on Jaune's hair.

Minors in Fey summoning and economics.

Her main Fey summons are a Pixie, Will'o'Wisp, Banshee, and female Dullahan.

Her pixie is mischievous, much to Weiss' vexation. But, she'll only have fun with those Weiss holds dear. Otherwise, they might simply get lost in the woods.

Will'o'Wisps are incorporeal, and bear the water, wind, and light elements that Weiss is so wonderful with.

For those that don't know their Fey, Banshees are actually extremely loyal to their households. They are washer maids, and the wail is because their beloved family member is going to die. Her powers are water-based, along with a wail that can be modified to work in a wide variety of ways. He touch can chill, and her voice carries the wind.

Her Dullahan carries a great sword with a fluted tip in one hand, and can summon an Auroran horse to ride.

Her Dullahan is Nora, whom largely represents Weiss' desire to not have impulse control and selfishness. Naturally, they clash quite a big.

Her Pixie is Leanan Ren, a Leanan Sidhe. She largely represents Weiss's exceptionalism and selflessness. Her mistress, and her mistress' friends call her "Leeann."

When Leeann and Nora agree, and can convince Weiss, typically leads to epic bouts of violence.

Blake Belladonna

Nekomata (cat Youkai that can take Human form; known for being especially amorous).

Has Changeling blood, but must soon return to her original form.

The only form she is truly comfortable in is that of a black cat, or a black catgirl.

Can become amorphous, and crawl through the shadows, or strike out from them as tendrils. Learns to master greater abilities, think Shadow from DMC.

Class is Ninja, which is basically a Rogue with low-level magic.

Her Youkai blood provides basic shapeshifting. Her distant Changeling blood provides more advanced, though less stable shape shifting. Her Ninja abilities allow her to blend into shadow, briefly become intangible, or leave behind figments of her presence.

Yang Xiao Long

Dragon-blooded, from a Storm Dragon. Got it from Tai's side.

Appears Human.

Can learn to summon dragon features, such as claws, wings, scales, or a tail.

Can eventually learn to transform into a Storm Dragon, though she normally needs a LOT of rage to do so.

Her rage allows her to basically turn Super Saiyan. Which is basically just Yang's regular Semblance, but attached to someone as powerful as Vegeta.

Class is Stormclash Monk. Combines Monk with Bloodrager, with Storm-based spellcaster.

Weapons: Gauntlets, a stone sling, and an Iron Club. She can use all three as a catalyst for her lightning powers, and all count as monk weapons.

Ilia Amitola

Rainbow slime.

Before anyone, including her, knew that she was a sentient lifeform, Jaune finds her on the street and takes care of her.

After watching Jaune fail to flirt with Weiss, she realized she could adopt a Human-like form.

Despite attempts by Blake to convince her otherwise, she sees nothing wrong with being Jaune's pet. He has always taken such good care of her.

She is vexed that she is no longer allowed to sleep with her master. However, he hasn't shown any problem about napping with him if she does so in blob form.

Once Jaune unlocks his grandfather's broken sword, she quite insistently goes with him. He will comply if she does so in blob form, sitting on his shoulder, (and refusing to leave).

Ilia's main abilities are physical transformations, (think Kirby). This means she tends to transform into Jaune's weapons, particularily a rainbow wrecking ball.

She can also extend spikes are enemies trying to strike Jaune from outside his field of vision. He gets used to it to the point if she barely does something similar, he knows he needs to look in that direction.

A third main form is turning into a boulder that Jaune throws (rolls) at enemies.

She has low-level elemental abilities. Not as suitable for combat, but allows her to turn into a bbq.

Transforms into Jaune's left pauldron during combat.

Penny Polendina

Golem with the soul of Pietro's daughter attached. He was legitimately trying to save his daughter, though the means are not exactly generally accepted. Only Dwarves know how to do this, and most of them would completely refuse to do so.

All mana channels and ley chambres are internal.

Penny is an Artificer with a minor in Battle Augur. She can create animated combatants. She has a small host of magic abilities, but only learns attack spells through observation. Other than Magic Missile, but since Battle Augurs are basically Megaman, it's through an arm cannon.

Creates an army of myrmidons, (magic robots), along with tiny, fairy versions of them.

General James Ironwood

Known as the "King of Mantle" by Humans in almost seriousness, and affectionately by Dwarves as the "Mantle Piece".

As a General, he was given leave to seek out the Dwarves of Mountain Mantle. He succeeded, and this close relationship is what created modernity. Along with the Schnee Dust Company, (managed by Elves, with the mining done by Dwarves).

The bulk of his forces are Atlasian Dampjager, steam Dwarves. They are smaller and lighter, but fantastically stronger and more robust than adult Humans.

These are augmented by Atlasian Dampdragens, carbinemen riding Steam Destriers, Damp'hest Also known as D-tross. They are as strong as as a truck, and can cover terrain like a horse.

Avoided Soul-Bound Golems because of the inherent ethics, until the creation of Penny Polendina. Now, it is offered to soldiers who are dying or otherwise crippled. Kind of like Dreadnoughts from 40k.

Army uses D-tross-towed artillery.

Has two primary chicken walkers, the Cockatrix and Basilix. The Basilix isn't larger, but is more robust and heavily armoured. The Cockatrix is lighter, more mobile, and has limited hover capabilities.

Dwarves

Because you voted for my Dwarves from Ingir, so, how they work with the Prismatic Rose AU, and the technological development of the world. Need to do a poll on tech first.

Dwarves worked through the early steam era and went onto nuclear, which is still technically steam power. It was Humans, specifically Ironwood that developed the steam generator technology that made it actually useful.

They largely live underground now, not because they especially like it underground, but because their holds were always dug into cliff faces, and like everyone else, they spend most of their time in \doors, nowadays.

Dwarves don't view necromancy as inherently evil, but instead view it through the voluntary/involuntary lens.

This means that they have no problem with soul-bound golems, as long as the volunteer is willing.

Necromancy is also used to bring an ancestor's ghost for ongoing legal disputes. Ironwood earned the respect of all of the Dwarven tribes of Mountain Mantle because he manages to stay impartial for these disputes. He simply had to put aside his squeamishness about necromancy.

Moonfallen

Creatures that have fallen to darkness in the shadow of the moon. The moon reflects light from the sun, and as such is both the basis of the power of the dark creatures, and their bane. The shattered moon remnant of the disaster that created them.

Angel, Fallen

Fey, Unseelie (also Fallen)

Liches

Necromancers

Skeletons

Succubus/Incubus

Vampire

Werewolf

Witch, Black

Creatures of Grimm

Creatures of shadow and enmity.

As enmity builds in an area, a Grimm Fragment is created. This is not visible to those without Shadowsight.

If enough enmity is unleashed at the same time, a Grimm Fragment can be boosted into a full-fledged Grimm.

More commonly, nefarious beings use the Fragments to create Creatures of Grimm to do their bidding, (hopefully).

Some less than ethnical magic users can try to use this as a power source. It can work, or it can create a Creature of Grimm.

When a Creature of Grimm is spotted, it triggers an investigation.

Huntsmen and Huntresses

Those licensed to hunt Creatures of Grimm and/or Moonfallen.

Some are lone vagabonds, others join fraternities or orders-militant.

While fraternities and orders normally have their own rules of conduct, without them Huntsmen are defacto, and often dejure, immune to all by the most heinous of laws.

This is both out of privilege, and out of practicality. On one hand, you want the Huntsman hunting. On the other, trying to bring a Huntsman to trial, unwillingly, is a harrowing ordeal for everyone involved. The Church's Inquisition typically handles rogue Huntsmen.

Because of this, disreputable Huntsmen will often be shunned by most of society.

(CLOSED)