#he has a sweet and whimsical side | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

norikuna · 3 months ago

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HOLY GROUND — geto suguru

prologue. → suguru geto is effortlessly stylish, and impossibly charming, and it's no wonder that everyone loves him. and you're absolutely crushing on him. and without fail, he takes you out each afternoon, after school, to a sweet cheesecake shop, saying that it'll be nice to grab a quick treat. but as a friend...right?

pairing. geto suguru x reader

warnings+. nothing, just sugary sweet fluff! reader has some self doubt and is a bit nervous, has a bit of a crush on ol' geto.

word count. 3.03k! song inspiration. holy ground — taylor swift

a/n. this post by @shokosmokes got me thinkin...mind u i love a good angst story but its nice to just have something sweet. like cheesecake 🍰 anyway this is short but i had fun writing this short lil piece <3 lmao this is the first time i think i've written a story without someone dying or losing a limb. not beta read, we die like warriors.

mp3. tonight i'm gonna dance, for all that we've been through. but i don't wanna dance, if i'm not dancing with you.

you sat across from geto at a small table by the window, marvelling at how the warm sunlight spilled in and caught the edges of his profile, lighting his features up with the last rays of summer's sweetness. you can hear the usual bustle of life on the streets of tokyo, with cars roaring down narrow streets and voices floating on the air. but here, it's just you and him.

there's a single strand of his hair that's perpetually falling out of his knot, falling against his face in a way that makes your chest tighten. the light has caught the feathery edges of his raven hair, turning the black into deep shades of brown and caramel that you want to capture within your fingers.

"you're quiet today," geto says, and he's leaning back in his chair, legs stretched wide beneath the table as he always tends to do.

you're glad you both took the time to change out of your uniform, at the dorms. the loose charcoal top drapes well against his lean, sculpted frame. his faded black jeans and scuffed docs complete the look, as though he stepped out of a glossy streetwear magazine and into your hands. there's two silver bracelets stacked on his wrists, gleaming faintly and you watch as the faint dusting of dark hair on his arms look translucent in the afternoon light.

great, you've been staring. again. heat rushes to your face, and you quickly look down at the cracked screen of your phone, hoping he didn't notice how you were practically unthreading each stitch that held him together.

"just tired," you say. though the truth has nothing to do with exhaustion, and everything to do with him.

geto tilts his head, watching you, "long day?"

you trace your finger along that shattered screen as you flip your phone open, "something like that. you know how they train us at the end of the day."

his eyes narrow for a split second, like he's the one solving a puzzle right now, but he shakes his head, "let's just go and order now. 'm starving."

this bakery is known for its whimsical creations, and you stare at the menu above the counter, wondering how many crumpled bills you can scrounge up for this outing. geto's leaning against the glass case, shoving his hands in wide pockets as his bracelets clink softly at the movement.

his eyes skim over the vibrant slices of cheesecake on display, but you know he's not really looking at the desserts. he's just giving you time.

"what do you think?"

"i don’t know," you say, dragging out the words as you squint at the labels. "how am i supposed to pick between strawberry matcha swirl and honey lavender? they all sound so - " you pause, schooling your face as the woman behind the till gives you a side-eye, "complicated."

geto chuckles, a low, warm sound that feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. "why don’t you go for something fun? you always play it safe."

his words make you pause. maybe he’s right. maybe you do tend to pick the familiar, the predictable. but not today. today, you want something different — something bold. you glance at the menu again, and your eyes land on a slice that looks like a kaleidoscope of colour: tropical mango-passionfruit cheesecake with swirls of raspberry and a delicate coconut crust. it’s so bright and summery, it feels almost impossible not to smile just imagining yourself biting into it.

"that one," you say, pointing to it.

geto raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment, his lips curving into a faint smile. "and for me…" he looks over the options for barely a second before he says, "just plain vanilla."

"tch! vanilla?" you repeat "you’re so boring."

"hey, it's a classic."

you roll your eyes, but you are so endlessly fond of him that you're smiling.

a few moments later, you’re back at your table with your slices, and the tropical cheesecake looks as perfect as it did in the case. the vibrant layers of mango, passionfruit, and raspberry practically glow in the sunlight streaming through the window.

ignoring geto's snarky comment to breathe first before inhaling it, you take your first bite, the fork sinking into the creamy texture, and for a moment, you’re hopeful.

but then...ugh. the sweetness hits you all at once, overwhelming your senses. it’s not bad, but it’s...too much. too bright. too cloying. you hesitate, unsure how to admit the mistake of your overzealous choice.

geto notices immediately, because of course he does. he leans forward, resting his arms on the table, his bracelets catching the light again, "what's wrong?"

"nothing," you say quickly, but your face must give you away because he narrows his pretty eyes in suspicion.

"you don’t like it." it's not a question, he’s grinning now.

"it’s fine," you insist, though your tone lacks conviction, and you shovel another wide piece into your mouth.

geto doesn’t say anything. instead, he picks up his fork and, before you can protest, scoops a bite from your slice. you watch as his pink lips part, and he tastes it before pulling a face, "that's sweet enough to even knock out satoru."

"hey!" you protest, though you can’t help but laugh along with him, thinking of your white-haired friend bouncing off the walls. "it’s not that bad."

"you don’t have to eat it," geto says, sliding his plate toward you and nudging your slice away. "here. take mine."

"but you don’t even like sweet things."

geto shrugs, picking up your plate and taking another bite of your overly sweet cheesecake like it’s nothing, and you watch as a mild spasm twitches across his features, "it’s fine. it's no good if you sit here and suffer through something you don't like."

you try to pretend like your chest doesn't tighten at the gesture. he doesn’t even look at you when he says it, focusing instead on his plate.

you take a bite of his vanilla cheesecake, and it’s perfect — not too sweet, just creamy and subtle enough to make you sigh in relief, "where would i be without you?" you hope that the teasing in your voice is enough to smooth over the cracks in your beating heart.

geto glances up at you then, his violet eyes meeting yours, and there’s something unguarded in his expression, something raw and warm and so achingly tender it makes your pulse skip, "i could say the same for you," he says quietly, almost as if the words weren’t meant to be heard, and far too quietly for something as trivial as an afternoon date in a café.

there's a warmth pooling in your cheeks, making your face hurt. and your thoughts loop back to the same quiet ache that you've carried for a few months now, like a sealed and perfumed love letter carried in your pocket.

every time he takes you out after class, you tell yourself, this is it. this is when i'll say it. haven't you rehearsed the words in your head, simple and clear each time?

i like you. i actually really like you a lot, suguru geto.

and every time, like clockwork, the words dissolve on your tongue, swallowed by the noise of your own uncertainty. it is hardly the case that geto isn't kind nor attentive. it's not that he's distant or cold, entirely the opposite.

if anything, he always seems...present.

but then you think about how he walks through the school hallways with that same quiet storm of charisma and charm, how his laughter draws people to him like moths to a flame, boys and girls alike.

in contrast, gojo satoru is far too much for many. there are many who choose to take a step back from him, away from the whirlwind and electrifying storm that is the six-eyes user.

but everyone wants a piece of geto's world, to be his friend or a confident, or something.

and you, what are you? just another friend he takes out after school? someone he doesn't mind spending time with when the day winds down?

your heart is once again acquainted with a knot of longing and fear that’s become far too familiar. geto doesn’t look like someone who would hesitate. he looks like someone who would know exactly what to say, exactly what to do, without second-guessing himself.

and yet, every time you’re with him, you catch these small moments of quiet — when his gaze lingers just a fraction too long, or when he says your name like it’s heavier than it should be. those moments make you wonder. what if…?

and as if he's reading your thoughts, geto shifts forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table now, and that single loose strand of hair moves with him, falling further into his face.

"something’s on your mind," he says, his pretty eyes searching yours. there’s a teasing edge to his tone, but it’s tempered with genuine curiosity, "you can tell me, you know."

you can’t help but wonder — how are you supposed to tell him that he’s the one taking up all the space in your mind? that his voice is the soundtrack to your thoughts, his smile the thing you find yourself chasing in every quiet moment?

instead, you give a small shrug, "maybe i’m just distracted."

"by what?" he presses, leaning just slightly closer, the teasing note in his voice softening into something warmer, a sincere question.

you hesitate, and you want to tell him the truth, but it feels too big, too fragile to let out into the open and so you blunder around, "maybe it’s the cheesecake," you say instead, your voice light, though the thrum of your pulse is anything but, "vanilla really is a classic."

smooth. utahime is going to be so disappointed in you. you know that she's tired of hearing about your crush by now, twirling the ribbon in her hair as she groans each time you tell her that you think you're going to pack your bags and move countries away from geto.

but now geto laughs softly, and the sound wraps around you like warmth, like home, "guess i picked the right place, then."

"you always do." your fingers brush against the cool porcelain of your plate, though you barely notice. your heart is often a traitor to your rational peace of mind, and your attention is all on him, on the way his smile lingers, softer now, the edges of his usually confident expression unraveling into something more tentative.

for a moment, geto's quiet, his gaze falling to his hands. his fingers toy with one of the silver rings on his right hand, twisting it in slow circles. It’s a small, nervous gesture, and it catches you off guard — suguru geto is never nervous.

the silence stretches in the late afternoon light, but then geto shifts in his seat, leaning forward slightly, his hands fiddling with the silver rings stacked on his fingers. the movement catches your attention, and when you glance up, you notice something different about him. the easy confidence that seems to follow him like a second shadow is nowhere to be seen. instead, his jaw is tight, his shoulders tense, and there’s a flicker of something nervous in the way his fingers twist the largest ring around and around.

he's looking at you, meeting your gaze, and you’re startled by the uncharacteristic seriousness in his eyes.

"hey," he says, his voice quieter than usual, a touch rough around the edges.

"yeah?"

geto exhales slowly, his lips pressing into a line before he speaks again.

"okay, look. i -” he pauses, running a hand through his hair, dislodging the tie holding his hair together, so choppy, dark locks fall around his shoulders. you school your face well enough so you don't look like you've been punched in the gut by cupid.

"i like you," he says finally, his words tumbling out in a rush, like they’ve been bottled up for too long, "i’ve liked you for a while now. and - and i’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you without, like… messing everything up."

your breath catches, the words landing like a firework in the quiet space between you. geto likes you? he likes you?

geto keeps going, as if he’s afraid to lose his nerve.

"i asked gojo for advice — stupid, i know, don't make that face — and he told me to just… keep taking you out and hope you’d get the hint. said that you'd realise eventually," and one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers you know groans, covering his face briefly with one hand, as if he's embarrassed.

"which was a terrible plan because i'm awful at hints, and apparently, so is he, considering he’s never had a girlfriend in his life."

you blink, the shock giving way to a surprised laugh, the sound spilling out before you can stop it.

"wait — gojo? he's the one who gave you advice? he doesn’t even know the first thing about relationships! do you remember the time that he went on one date, and got dumped the next day for trying to buy dinner out of the vending machine."

"i know!" geto says, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation, but there’s a small, embarrassed smile tugging at his lips now, "i know it was a bad idea. i just wanted to tell you, straight up. but I didn’t know what else to do, okay? i didn’t want to screw this up."

you fall silent at that, your laughter fading as the weight of his words sinks in. he's looking at you now, his expression open and raw in a way that makes your chest ache.

"i just — i want to do this right," he says softly, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. "i want to be your boyfriend. properly. i want to take you out, and to be able to call you mine, and — i don’t know — do all the cheesy stuff couples do."

his hand brushes the back of his neck, his eyes dropping to the table for a moment before flicking back to yours, "but if that’s weird, or if you don’t feel the same, it’s okay. you don’t have to say yes. promise i won't cry in front of you."

Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it, a wild, dizzying rhythm that drowns out everything else. You stare at him, your mind struggling to catch up with what he’s just said, with the fact that he likes you. geto—cool, effortlessly charming geto—wants to be your boyfriend.

"wait," you manage finally, your voice shaky with disbelief. "you… like me? like, you really like me?"

geto laughs softly, though there’s still a nervous edge to it. "yeah, i really do. it's probably stupidly obvious by now, isn’t it? i mean, everyone said it was so obvious, and shoko said you already knew."

you shake your head, bewildered. "no! i mean, yes — but no! i just thought you only saw me as a friend. i never thought — "

you stop yourself, realising you’re rambling, and take a deep breath. then, before you can overthink it or possibly faint, you say, "yes."

geto's thin brows furrow slightly. "yes?"

"yeah," you repeat, a smile breaking across your face. "i'd really like that. i do want to go out with you, suguru."

relief washes over his features, followed by a grin so genuine and bright it leaves you breathless. for a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes warm and full of something you can’t quite name, something that makes you feel like the centre of the universe.

"oh my god, thank god, you don't even know, i was actually going to have a heart attack..." he mutters, almost to himself, before he blinks, like he's forgetting something. then, with an almost comical jolt of realisation, he clears his throat.

"right," he says, the word drawn out, as if he’s trying to ground himself. "i need to pay for the tab."

you laugh nervously, still reeling from everything that’s just happened, and shake your head quickly, thinking back to the meagre bills in your pocket. "oh, it’s okay! i can pay for my own -"

but geto's head snaps up at that, and he fixes you with a look so incredulous, so utterly affronted, that it startles you into silence.

"no way," he says, his voice firm but laced with humour and he leans forward slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a glimmer of warmth that sends your heart racing all over again, "i’m your boyfriend now. you really think I’m going to let you pay?"

it's unfamiliar and thrilling all at once. your cheeks burn, and you can’t stop the laugh that escapes you, a mix of delight and disbelief.

"unbelievable," you say, shaking your head, but there’s no real protest in your voice.

geto grins, the expression crooked and self-assured in a way that’s so unmistakably him, and it takes your breath away. then, without breaking eye contact, he reaches across the table, his hand brushing against yours before his fingers gently curl around them.

it's such a simple gesture, but it feels monumental, like the air around you shifts in response. his hand is warm, slightly calloused at the fingertips, and the way his thumb grazes over your knuckles sends a quiet thrill through you.

you glance down at your joined hands, unable to stop the soft, surprised smile that spreads across your face. when you look back up, geto is watching you, his expression open and unguarded, as if he’s memorising every detail of this moment.

"so," he says quietly, his voice softer now, "is this the part where you say you’re going to let me spoil you a little?"

you laugh again, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand in return. "i guess i don’t really have a choice now, do i?"

his smile widens, and there’s a faint pink tint to his cheeks that makes your heart ache with how much you like him.

"nope," he says, his tone teasing but earnest. "you really don’t."

and as you sit there, your hand in geto's, surrounded by the golden light and the lingering sweetness of cheesecake, you think that maybe — just maybe — this is what happiness feels like.

#geto x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #suguru geto #getou suguru #jjk geto #i projected an old date of mine onto this and i had to pace around afterwards #thinking shit like 'i should text him again' NO you shouldnt girl!

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gloomwitchwrites · 10 months ago

Text

Just Like Dad (4 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff

Word Count: 957

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Checking through his daughter’s backpack strikes up a difficult conversation.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad masterlist

Price has no idea where his daughter’s disorganization from, but it certainly isn’t him.

Opening her backpack, Price cringes at the mess. It’s all crushed papers, broken pencils, scattered crayons, and food wrappers. Sighing, Price turns the backpack zipper-side down, the contents crashing to the dining room table.

She is going to sit down tonight and organize this. No exceptions.

Frowning down at the wreckage, Price begins sorting through the papers, glancing at a few just to find some order in the chaos. He picks up a piece of paper and pauses, his gaze landing on the title.

All About Me reads the top of the page.

Price smiles as he starts to read over his daughter’s answers.

Favorite color? Blue.

Favorite animal? Dragon—all capital letters with lots of exclamation points.

Happiest memory? That one just says “ghostie tree.” Her teacher will have no idea what that means, but Price knows, and he laughs so hard he almost chokes.

Price’s daughter adores Simon, and whenever he’s around, she turns into a koala, hanging off every limb. It doesn’t matter if Simon is standing or sitting down. And how does Simon feel about it? He’ll act bored, like it hardly bothers him, but then he’ll strike, tickling her until she runs away screaming only for her to return minutes later to do it all over again.

Flipping it over, Price continues to read, pausing when he reaches information about parents and guardians. This is where he slows and observers her writing. She already filled stuff out about mom, and Price knows you’d get a laugh out of her answers, but the sections about him cool his amusement.

Her answers are idyllic versions of himself, nearly whimsical in the way she describes what he does and how proud she is that he is her father. That makes him ache, brings a tightness to his chest that pushes out all other feeling. Price is proud of his work, and of his career, but it is not a beautiful thing.

It is not sweet or kind or tender.

It is rough. It is hard.

It is heartbreaking.

He has lost so many people. So many good men and women. He’s done horrible things. Stained his palms with blood. These are difficult truths he faces every day.

But there are softer moments in his career of watching those he’s mentored be promoted, of victories and celebrations, of marriages and births, and of all those he’s worked with who have gone on to lead fulfilling, happy lives.

All of that, and this isn’t what stops him.

It’s her answer to the question “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

I want to be like my dad.

Price sighs and sets the paper down on the table.

How does he respond to that? Should he even take the initiative? Should he approach the topic at all?

Price isn’t certain.

“Daddy.”

Price starts at his daughter’s voice. He turns. She’s standing just inside the archway to the living room. She has a perplexed look on her face as she glances between him and the mess on the kitchen.

“What’ve you done with my backpack?”

Price blinks, and then chuckles. “It’s a mess, love. We’ve taught you better.” Her face flushes slightly as she slowly walks up to the table. “You’re sitting down and going through this. No exceptions.”

She nods sheepishly.

Price picks up the questionnaire. “Want to talk about this? I have to sign off on it.”

Her flush grows deeper. “Did you read it?”

“I did.”

She looks up at him expectantly and Price waits a moment to see if she’ll say anything. She doesn’t.

“You said some nice things about me,” he says softly, and she beams. It reminds him of your smile, and that melts his heart down to his toes.

“It’s true,” she says brightly, happy that he’s mentioned anything at all.

“You want to be like me?” She nods. “And what do I do?”

She blinks. “Didn’t you read what I wrote?”

Price barks a laugh. “Yes, love. I did. But I want to hear it from you.”

She squares her shoulders and looks up at him with fierce determination. “You protect people. I want to protect people.”

True. But not entirely.

“How do you think I protect people?” He can see her brain processing the question and attempting to formulate an answer. She chews on her bottom lip, shoulders sagging slightly.

“I don’t know,” she finally says. “But I know that you do. You protect me and mom.”

“That’s because you and your mother are mine to protect.”

Protect is not the right word. While his actions and the things that he does might prevent horrible things happening at a global level, doing so often results in pain and suffering. It’s just what happens even when he tries to prevent that.

“Can I not do that?” she asks.

“You can do whatever you want when you’re older.”

But military life? No. He doesn’t wish that for her, and it’s not because she’s a girl. He’d feel the same if she has been born a son. No parent wants to see their child in potential danger. Doesn’t matter what age.

“So I can be just like you?”

He wants to say “no,” but instead diverts the question elsewhere. “You can’t be anything if you don’t organize this backpack.”

She groans and starts rummaging around in the mess.

Price kisses the top of her head. When he glances up, you’re standing in the archway, a soft smile on your face. Did you hear the whole conversation? Or just the end?

You stride forward and reach out. Price meets your outstretched hand, threading his fingers with yours.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @nelladowney @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair

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a-sound-sol · 3 months ago

Note

I recently had a tooth removed and my dentist advised me on many things but what I found funny was her saying "no kissing for a month" I found myself wondering how a couple would deal with this.

A scenario with LoV X Reader reacting and dealing with the news of no kiss for a month XD + them taking care of the reader

I love your work <3

oh i looove this one!! and thank you <3

NO KISSES FOR A MONTH!

ft. LoV

Shigaraki

He doesn't believe you at first, he thinks you're punishing him for something. Until he tries to kiss you and you wince in pain, then he's like o h, you're serious.

Then he subtly takes care of you. He comes home one day with ice packs and heating pads to help with the swelling. He makes the rest of the League deal with freezing and heating them up, but he always delivers them directly to you. He won't let you lift a finger unless you have to. He puts Kurogiri in charge of assisting you whenever you need it while he's gone, which barely happens bc he never wants to leave your side when you need him. He falls asleep on a couch next to your bed during the day, and always ends up spooning you at night <3

Dabi

He's PISSED about no kisses. He pouts about it literally all day. But when you start to complain about how in pain you are, he drops everything to help you. He'll hand feed you your meds and he'll tell Shigaraki he's off duty until you're better. He refuses to leave your side, such a needy guy. He makes you soup because that's easier to eat, and he'll blow on it to cool it down before feeding it to you - and yes, he indeed does feed it to you on a spoon. He'll keep you warm and safe, no matter what.

He's not great with the no kisses rule, so he kisses your forehead and nose and temples frequently. He just can't help himself. <3

Twice

He understands no kisses but he also DESPISES it!! He personally wants to talk to the dentist and tell them off!! But he also wants to shake their hand and thank them for taking care of you. In regards to that, he's somehow both the most gentle and the most distant. But he explains to you it's only because he can't stop himself from wanting to kiss you whenever he sees you! Still makes sure you know how loved you are, waits on you at every hour. He worries about you so much !! <33

Toga

Oh no kisses? No problem for our vampy girl! She gives you love in so many other ways. She cuddles and holds you, basically carrying you throughout the house starting when you came home from surgery. She's adamant that she can take care of you - almost to a fault. She starts to forget to take care of herself a little bit. You make sure to cover her in blankets when she passes out from exhaustion, and you end up taking care of her more than anything. <3

Spinner

He's a sweet guy, so of course he's not going to tell you how upset he is about not getting to kiss you. He looks disappointed at first, but then he realizes that means he has to show his affection through other ways. He taste tests all your food first so that they're soft and smooth enough for you to eat. He spends the days in bed with you playing video games while you rest, and he always ALWAYS makes sure that the room temperature is perfect for you. <3

Compress

Oh he's absolutely the most dramatic about it. While he understands you must heal, how can he NOT smooch those lips??? He spends the entire time trying to figure out a way to kiss your lips without it hurting you. Him and his silly magic - he actually attempts to hypnotize you just so that he could get away with it still - but he remembered how worth the wait it would be to be able to kiss you without you being in pain. He spends the rest of the time entertaining you with his whimsical stories <3

Kurogiri

Kissing isn't really a big part of your relationship, so he doesn't care entirely about that. What he DOES care about is how much pain you're in, and he wonders if he can transport the pain away from you. He hates seeing you sad, and does his best to take care of you. He brings you to the prettiest mountaintop to pass the time while you heal. He sets up a picnic for you both and you sit in silence together, happily. You're kinda glad you had surgery! <3

Magne

She's a bit mad about it, but she gets over it quickly when she realizes that the sooner you heal, the more kisses she'll get! She also waits on you hand and foot, she's sure to make sure to try and anticipate your needs before you even know what they are. If there's one thing she's gonna do, it's protect you from the stupid shit you usually do that causes you to get hurt (tripping is the number one thing). She will rush in to catch you everytime, and call you a ditz while kissing your cheek and carrying you to wherever you were headed! <3

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 13 days ago

Note

what do you think the third years would be like 10 years from now?

What comes after Ever After?

You’re looking at the new buff baker that helps man the Clover Patisserie. He’s beloved by the local housewives and school girls— His parents are getting up there in age, so Trey has taken up a bulk of the responsibilities: ordering supplies, prepping ingredients, baking, stocking, and customer service.

After hours, Trey experiments with new recipes and leftover ingredients. Sometimes he comes up with some truly awful inventions, but other times they end up working out really well. Who knew that adding oyster sauce would enhance the flavor of this bread? He calls these the “Clover Specials, Piping Hot and Fresh Off the Trey” (yes, that was a pun).

He tries to make the bakery more whimsical for the customers. Little seasonal decorations, cute little doodles on the placards that indicate what each item is, a sign that reminds folks to brush well after eating sweets, etc. (Trey claims he doesn't really care for little flourishes like this; it might just be the nostalgia of the unbirthday party days getting to him.)

If there are things that haven’t sold at the end of the day, he’ll offer them for a discount in a blind box style. You’ll never know what you’ll pull, but it’s always delicious, if not a little stale or slightly lumpy looking. Waste not, what not!

Every so often, he has nights out with his childhood friends Chenya and Riddle. Trey's responsible for bringing the snacks (he uses his friends as a test audience for his experiments), and the three spend that time drinking, sharing stories, and catching up on each others' lives.

Cater’s a social media manager and agent for various influencers. His career allows him to basically work from anywhere (which is convenient because he travels to various promotional events) and to be on his phone 24/7, monitoring stats, attending strategy meetings, and coordinating with PR teams.

Keeps up with the latest trends! He's not one of those "how do you do, fellow kids?" types though. Cater is genuinely on top of what's cool--so much so that he's sometimes contacted as a style consultant. It feels like he's got his hands in many facets of the entertainment industry.

He regularly sees a therapist (although he doesn't let any of his friends or family know) to talk through his insecurities and other darker thoughts. It's really been helping him sort out these complex emotions he's been sitting and stewing in for the longest time. He's hoping that, someday, he can reach the point where he can open up to everyone about this other side of himself.

Every now and again, the thought to text an old NRC classmate strikes him--but something keeps Cater back. Doubt, apprehension. The worst that can happen is being left on read, but to Cater the consequences feel so much worse than that. It's a huge relief to him when he gets a text out of the blue from Trey one day--an excuse to text back, to make that connection. Though it's still difficult for Cater to gather the courage to initiate another conversation, this is still a foot in the door for him, the potential start of something new.

Cater still has the Magicam accounts of his school mates. He'll sort of like... cyberstalk their pages just to keep up with their lives, to feel a sense of closeness with the people he failed to reach out to during his NRC days. When he stops to reflect on it, he really regrets his inaction--and, on some nights, he scrolls and scrolls until the dread and the loneliness lulls him into a comfortable, dreamless sleep.

It took a lot of resistance and arguing, but--much to the delight of Kifaji and his family members--Leona has (begrudgingly) taken on the role of a royal advisor to support Sunset Savanna. There were of course some growing pains, especially with Leona's callous and arrogant attitude clashing with those of the other (older, much more conservative) advisors--but for the most part, it's been a net positive.

His focus is on improving infrastructure while also conserving as much of the environment as they can. The knowledge and experience he has gained from his 4th year internship comes in handy here, and thankfully they've been able to take small but steady steps to modernize the country.

In addition to improving infrastructure, Leona has made efforts to strengthen the Sunset Savanna's soft power. He has established new schools and food banks, particularly in impoverished areas, and started magift/spelldrive teams. This has made him popular with certain groups, such as the hyena beastmen and children.

Leona loathes putting on airs, but it's a necessity when facing the public so he manages. Unfortunately, he's still in the habit of skipping meetings and ceremonies he deems unnecessary or a waste of his time, which earns him pockets of ire. He usually just shoots back with, "Yeah? So what? I'm still gettin' results, ain't I?"

Political demands? Not a problem for him. But family? That's the real pain in his tail. Cheka, now an energetic 15-year old, has not let up on bothering him one bit. Then there's also the affectionate Falena, who is trying to desperately reconnect with his estranged brother. Leona just tosses out the excuse of "being busy" to dodge the both of them.

Vil continues to be an A-list celebrity and triple threat--actor, model, and influencer. He has racked up several more leading roles since his school days, including non-traditional bad guys. Vil has been an anti-villain and sympathetic villain.

Having aged like fine wine, he was able to play the character of a father too, just like how he dreamed of as a third-year student. When Vil got the call about the role, he excitedly told his own dad about it, who was so ecstatic and joked that Vil "takes after his old man". They went out for a little father-son bonding time to celebrate, dining at a high-class establishment and having a toast to Vil's future.

It was a Big Deal when Vil was offered his first-ever hero role. Social media and news outlets were popping off about it, and Vil himself was so excited he actually squealed. To this day he still considers it a turning point in his career and one of the most fun characters he ever played. Since then, he's been getting much more diverse roles, which has really opened up the door for him to expand his skills.

Vil is also a business owner now, having several brands under him. A skincare brand, a clothing brand, a makeup brand… Despite them being celebrity owned, the products are actually high quality (Vil won’t sign his name off on subpar products) and very popular, particularly whenever his face is plastered on the marketing campaigns.

These days, he allows himself to be a little less guarded with his front-facing persona. Vil still comes off as cool and regal, but notably laughs more, smiles more, even giggles more. He has a bit of a youthful sparkle to him and talks openly about his own struggles, fears, hopes, and dreams. Fans praise him for being so much more "relatable" and honest.

Rook claims that he is a globe-trotting archeologist now, but you get the feeling that he’s not telling the full truth. What kind of archeologist carries around a belt of weirdly invasive tools on it? Are those teeny-tiny listening devices? And why is his camera (which he says is strictly for his photography hobby) loaded with shots of suspicious characters taken from a distance?

He shares all kinds of crazy stories, like about the time he swung from a vine with a family of gorillas or how he discovered a lever that revealed a roller coaster to a secret underground laboratory. “Um, are those the kinds of things an archaeologist does…?” you ask him. Rook just smiles and laughs, but doesn’t provide a clear answer.

His stealth and marksman skills have developed to a scary degree. You sometimes forget that Rook is even standing beside you, and you've witnessed him kill bugs with frightening precision with nothing more than his gloved fingers. He brushes it off as abilities he sharpened "on the job".

... In any case, whatever Rook's actual occupation is, it requires a lot of travel. He lavishes his friends with souvenirs and post cards of the loveliest sights, then babbles on and on about local attractions, culture, art, and charming hole-in-the-wall destinations. It seems like he has accumulated a lot of knowledge about Twisted Wonderland in the 10 years since you've last seen him, and he's all too eager to blab about it all.

He's become an artist, although he operates under a pen name. You'll find paintings, sculptures, or collages he has assembled in various small exhibitions, and poetry he has penned where you least expect it. Rook puts his talent out in hopes of beautifying the world.

Idia has succeeded his father as the Director of S.T.Y.X. There’s a lot riding on his shoulders, but the pressure surprisingly never really gets to him. He’s cooler, more methodical now—almost as though he were a machine himself, set so clearly on his task that he won’t budge until it is completed first. (He worries that he has become just like his downer dad 💀)

Sometimes he spirals and his nerves get the best of him. In those cases, he has to resort to the text to speech device he invented back at NRC to get through his meetings. The staff at S.T.Y.X. get used to it and are largely alright with it.

He has the habit of snacking on the job. There's chip crumbs and gummy worms scattered on his desk, which is already messy enough with important documents. (He complains that this should all be digitalized anyway!) Idia keeps even more snacks in his pockets, munching on them whenever he’s annoyed or needs to give himself something to do.

The dark circles under his eyes get way worse. With work eating up so much of his day, Idia has less free time to games and other hobbies. That just means he ends up staying up super late into the night to catch up on his dailies and to grind out events, read manga, watch anime, etc. (“Sleep is for the weak!” he insists.) It’s a miracle he can still get up in the mornings to clock in for his next shift!

Shockingly, Idia takes breaks to go outside and touch grass soak up some (artificial) sunshine. He has learned from past experience that being locked up indoors all the time isn't exactly healthy. That, and his Chief of Cybersecurity (Ortho) pesters him to put himself out there more! Sometimes Idia even awkwardly tries to converse with his coworkers around the water cooler, though that's never quite as relaxing as him just chilling by himself in some quiet corner of the Island of Woe.

Make way for the reigning king of Briar Valley! Maleficia has finally retired, passing on her title to her grandson Malleus. There was a coronation ceremony (now recognized as the holiday or Ascension in Briar Valley), which you were of course invited to as a guest. You had a seat up front and were one of the first to congratulate him right after he was officially crowned.

As a relatively young king, Malleus isn’t the perfect ruler right away. Learning about ruling is nothing close to actually ruling. He stumbles and has to adjust to the role and, most of all, he has to balance the conservative values of his country and his people with the ever-changing lands beyond his home. Not an easy task, especially when he has only just gotten used to the concept of change himself—but with the support of his like-minded retainers, Malleus knows he isn’t alone in his endeavors for a brighter tomorrow.

His power also poses another challenge. Malleus is so used to solving his issues by casting a spell or terrifying his opposition into backing down. He’s no longer in a position to do such things or to let his emotions run wild, lest he risk tearing apart his own court and driving a wedge between the valley and other countries. A leash on his temper, a regal demeanor—this is how a mature adult presents himself. The anger only truly comes out when his people are in danger or he is deeply insulted.

His top priority once he is in power is restoring the bonds that were put in jeopardy on account of his… “oopsie” in his third year at NRC. There’s still lingering distrust between him and other nations due to that incident, so Malleus makes it clear that he’s apologetic and willing to come to the table for discussion, should other countries wish. His schedule is jam-packed with meetings with foreign dignitaries.

Massive and sweeping reform is not happening—not anytime soon. No opening of the borders, no sudden introduction of new technology. There would be massive outcry and resistance from the public + senators, not to mention that Malleus himself isn’t entirely comfortable yet with the concept. However, he has put together incremental proposals and tries convince others of the benefits, implanting the seeds in the minds of the people. He’s also supportive of initiatives which promote learning and cultural exchange, such as the import of reading materials from overseas (Sebek’s idea) and has even appointed Silver as Briar Valley’s very first human ambassador.

Lilia has comfortably retired to the Land of Crimson Long. He lives in a little hut far removed from civilization, but he ventures out into the town to pick up the essentials and to play board games with the local retirees. For the most part, it’s just Lilia and the wilderness! ... Which has led to rumors of a monster haunting the forest. This, Lilia entertains in by dropping down from the trees and frightening any hooligans who come close to his territory.

Though his magical abilities have been in decline, he does his best to stay active and in shape! Lilia once snuck into a nearby military camp, disguising himself as one of the new recruits, and partook in their training with them! He even stopped to lend extra help to the recruits who seemed to be struggling the most--though he still came first place in all of their exercises and holds the record time for climbing to the top of a pole to retrieve the arrow there.

He delights in partaking in the local customs and cuisine. Lilia loves to travel to shrines and admire the temples built to honor ancestors. He lights up some incense and joins others in prayer, knowing that he, too, will one day be among the dead. Best to pay respects now! Lilia has also taken to several cups of tea (as recommended by his doctor) with his meals, and has rice porridge with sunnyside egg eyes and bacon smiles whenever he needs something comforting.

Lilia of course keeps in touch with his loved ones! He's still gaming with his online companion Gloomurai and texts his Diasomnia boys all the time. Lilia also sends cards for special occasions, putting much love and care into his notes and the pictures + souvenirs he attaches to them.

His whole face lights up when his friends are able to make the time to pay him a visit. Lilia makes a big show of it, insisting to arrange a big feast or to play a tune for them—oh, and how about a fireworks show?! But his guests just tell him to sit down and take it easy while they take care of everything for him. It’s his turn to be doted on!

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Leona Kingscholar #Lilia Vanrouge #Trey Clover #Cater Diamond #Rook Hunt #Vil Schoenheit #Reader #self insert #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #after ever after #curiouser and curiouser #book 7 spoilers

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23victoria · 1 month ago

Text

gingerbread house

pairings: 𝓯1 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

synopsis: 𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓾𝓻 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭!

word count: 1.1𝓴

authors note: 𝓼𝓸𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼! 𝓲'𝓶 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓽𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓲𝔁 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝓲 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂! 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓼, 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭! 𝓜𝓔𝓡𝓡𝓨 𝓒𝓗𝓡𝓘𝓢𝓣𝓜𝓐𝓢 𝓔𝓥𝓔!

𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽?! CLICK HERE!

F1 MASTERLIST F1 CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST

Lewis

Lewis stands next to his gingerbread house, arms crossed, looking overly confident. “This is art. Look at the detail, the symmetry.” His house has a sleek, modern vibe, with perfectly aligned candy windows and a roof that looks suspiciously aerodynamic.

Your followers, however, vote your colorful, whimsical house as the winner. You grin triumphantly as Lewis’s jaw drops. “What?! No way. Mine is way better!” he protests, gesturing to his creation.

You laugh, shaking your head. “In your dreams, Lewis. Plus, the people are on my side.”

He huffs, crossing his arms dramatically. “Fine, I only accept defeat because you’re cute.”

“Oh really? It’s because I’m your girlfriend and you love me,” you tease, poking his side.

“That too,” he admits with a chuckle.

“And also because I’m 100% more talented than you,” you say smugly, planting a kiss on his cheek before swiping a dollop of frosting onto his nose.

“Hey!” he shouts, laughing as you dart away. “Come back here, you little cheater!”

Charles

Charles carefully steps back from his gingerbread house, a proud smile on his face. His house looks like something out of a French fairy tale, complete with candy vines and a powdered sugar “snowfall.”

When your followers crown you as the winner, Charles looks genuinely stunned. “No, no, no! That’s impossible. Look at the detail on mine!” he exclaims, pointing to his house.

You smirk. “The people have spoken, Charles. And they’re on my side.”

He pouts, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. I only accept this because you’re beautiful.”

“Oh, it’s because I’m your girlfriend and you love me,” you tease, tilting your head with a smug grin.

“That too,” he says with a laugh.

“And also because I’m 100% more talented than you,” you add, giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek before swiping frosting onto his chin.

His eyes widen as you sprint away. “Y/N! Come back here, or I’ll throw the whole piping bag at you!”

Lando

Lando’s gingerbread house looks… chaotic, to say the least. It’s leaning to one side, with candies haphazardly stuck on, and one wall is suspiciously missing. “It has character,” he claims proudly.

When the followers declare your house the winner, Lando gasps dramatically. “What? No way! Mine has charm! Yours is way too perfect.”

You snicker. “Lando, even the roof is falling off. Face it, the people are on my side.”

He slumps back in his chair, pouting. “Fine, but only because you’re cute.”

You grin, leaning closer. “And because I’m your girlfriend and you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that too,” he mutters, trying not to smile.

“And also because I’m way more talented than you,” you tease, pecking his cheek before smearing frosting on his forehead.

His eyes go wide as you bolt across the room. “Y/N! You better run!”

Max

Max stands back from his house, examining it with a critical eye. It’s sturdy, precise, and… slightly intimidating, just like him. “I think mine is objectively the best,” he says with a small shrug.

When your house wins the vote, Max squints at the results. “No. This has to be rigged. My house is structurally flawless.”

You burst out laughing. “The people are on my side, Max. Just admit defeat.”

He crosses his arms, glaring playfully. “Fine, but only because you’re cute.”

You grin, leaning closer. “Oh, and because I’m your girlfriend and you love me.”

Max rolls his eyes, but a small smile breaks through. “That too.”

“And because I’m 100% more talented than you,” you add, kissing his cheek before smearing frosting on his nose.

“Y/N, you’re going to regret that,” he warns, already chasing after you as you sprint away, laughing.

Oscar

Oscar’s gingerbread house is surprisingly neat and charming, with a clean design that looks like it came straight out of an Ikea catalog. He beams proudly at it. “I think I nailed it.”

When your house wins, Oscar’s jaw drops. “Wait, seriously? No way. Mine is so much better!”

You giggle. “Sorry, Piastri, but the people are on my side.”

He sighs dramatically. “Fine. I’ll accept it… but only because you’re cute.”

You smirk. “And because I’m your girlfriend and you love me.”

“Yeah, that too,” he admits, chuckling softly.

“And because I’m clearly the more talented one,” you tease, giving him a quick kiss before dabbing frosting on his cheek.

“Y/N!” he yells as you dart away, already reaching for a handful of candy to throw at you. “Get back here!”

Carlos

Carlos’s gingerbread house looks charming and rustic, with plenty of artistic flair. “This is clearly the winner,” he says, confident as ever.

When your house wins, Carlos stares at the results in disbelief. “What? No, that’s not possible. Mine is a masterpiece!”

You laugh, pointing to his overly dramatic reaction. “The people have spoken, Carlos. And they’re on my side.”

He sighs, rubbing his temples before giving you a small smirk. “Fine. I only accept defeat because you’re cute.”

“Oh, and because I’m your girlfriend and you love me,” you tease.

Carlos laughs, shaking his head. “That too, mi amor.”

“And also because I’m way more talented than you,” you add cheekily, pecking his cheek before smearing frosting on his jawline.

“Y/N!” he shouts, already chasing after you with a mischievous grin. “You’re going to regret that!”

Jenson

Jenson’s gingerbread house is shockingly elegant, with clean lines and a classic design. He leans back in his chair, looking smug. “I think it’s safe to say I’ve won.”

When your house is declared the winner, Jenson shakes his head in disbelief. “No way. This is rigged.”

You smirk. “Sorry, but the people are on my side.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. I only accept defeat because you’re cute.”

You grin. “And because I’m your girlfriend and you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, laughing. “That too.”

“And because I’m clearly the more talented one,” you tease, kissing his cheek before smearing frosting on his face.

“Oh, you’re in trouble now,” he says, already standing up to chase you.

Seb

Seb’s gingerbread house is eco-friendly, with a focus on sustainable candy decorations. He smiles proudly at his creation. “It’s the most thoughtful design here.”

When your house wins, Seb chuckles softly. “Alright, alright. I guess the people like your style better.”

You grin. “See? The people are on my side.”

He nods, his smile warm. “Fine. I’ll let you win this time, but only because you’re adorable.”

“Oh, and because I’m your girlfriend and you love me,” you tease, bumping his shoulder.

Seb laughs. “That too.”

“And because I’m obviously the more talented one,” you say, giving him a quick kiss before smearing frosting on his nose.

“Y/N!” he laughs, chasing after you with a playful grin. “Come back here, or I’ll cover you in frosting!”

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽! ❥☽ @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @Formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @blakesbearblog @cel-b @perfumejamal @aykxz98 @pandora-08 @teti-menchon0604 @bxtosa @fadingcloudballoon-blog @whatevenisthisxxxxx @anamiad00msday @luula @jimcarreyfann42 @oliviah-25 @bbwzrld @goldenroutledge @unkownmystery_22 @sophienorris18-blog @flowerpetalk @paucubarsisimp @its-elias-world @magixpracticality @poppyflower-22 @pear-1206

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

whimsical muggle reader who loves taking note of strange occurrences (i swear my shoes weren't here! like luna basically lol) and marauder bf who can't tell her yet about magic but loves doing some tricks for her to find. (you can pick which marauder! i was gonna go remus but i'm biased lol)

Omg I had so much fun with this, thank you for requesting!

Sirius Black x whimsical!reader ♡ 657 words

“You’re such an old woman, Moony,” Sirius says. “Is that a gray hair I see?”

“Your fault,” Remus replies mildly.

“We’re not all obligated to go clubbing whenever the fancy strikes you,” James argues on Remus’ behalf. “I’ve got a match tomorrow, and our poor Moony’s head is hurting him. Give us a rest.”

“No rest!” Sirius cries, standing from the couch as if he’s addressing a weary army rather than two reluctant men. “Rest is for the elderly and geriatric.” He looks at you hopefully. “You want to go out, don’t you darling?”

“I’m not partial to clubs,” you reply, but your attention is already elsewhere. “Remus, if you have a headache, you should have Sirius make you some of his tea. He made me some when my head hurt last week and it set me right as rain.” You glance at your boyfriend, considering you with peculiar smugness. “And the same happened when I had the hiccups a few days ago. He has a remedy for everything.”

James cocks an eyebrow. “Does he?”

You hum in prideful affirmation, but Sirius seems almost sheepish as he sits back down on the couch, tucking you against his side. “I’ve always been good at brewing,” he says to James with a shrug.

“You should make him your tea,” you urge softly.

Sirius kisses the side of your head. “Moony’s headaches are a bit tougher than yours, angel,” he says, adding at your troubled look, “but I’ll make him some later if he likes.”

“Hey,” James says brightly, “what if we go to the pub on fifth? It’s usually quiet in there. We’ll just stay an hour or so.”

You’ve been dating Sirius long enough to know how this goes with his friends—one hour will turn into four before any of them notice—but nod complaisantly at the hum of assent that goes up from the other boys.

“Let’s go.” Sirius hops back up before anyone can change their minds. He grabs your coat from the hook by the door, holding it out for you.

“Oh.” Your mood sinks slightly as you remember your coat. “I should probably go get another from my room. I tore that one yesterday, remember?”

“I fixed it for you.”

Sirius gives it a shake, signaling for you to take it from him. You do, looking at him in awe.

“Really, Siri? That’s so nice of you.” You feel along the hem of your jacket in search of the split you’d made the day before. You can’t find it, nor any of the smaller blemishes the garment had acquired after years of wear. “How did you do this?”

“I sewed it,” he says breezily, shrugging on his own well-loved leather coat.

You run your fingers over where you could swear the tear had been. “There’s not even a line or anything.”

Remus shoots him a look you can’t decipher, and Sirius gives you a somewhat thin-lipped smile. “What can I say? I’m magic with a needle and thread. Put your coat on, baby.”

You realize then that all three boys are already waiting for you at the door.

“Oh, sorry.” You carefully pull on your newly impeccable jacket, following them outside. “Thank you, Siri.”

“Anytime,” he vows, hand finding its way into your back pocket as James leads you all to the pub.

“You’re so good at fixing things,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “My coat, and when you glued my mug back together so well, and when my peperomia came back to life.”

Sirius chuckles. “It didn’t come back to life, angel.”

“It was dying,” you reason. “I couldn’t get it to stop wilting, but then all of a sudden it perked up.”

“You must’ve nursed it back to health,” he replies, and his tone is blasé but the smile he shoots you is oddly pleased. He gives your ass a playful squeeze. “Stranger things have happened, sweet thing.”

Around Sirius, they certainly have.

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makoodles · 2 years ago

Note

tsu'tey with baby fever

TSU'TEY WITH BABY FEVER

alright babes, ya got me. i got so many asks about how tsu'tey would handle catching baby fever around his little human mate, so here we are! this is kind of a continuation of tìtunu, but it can be read as a standalone either!

pairing: tsu'tey x fem!human reader

word count: 6.8k

tags: fluff, pregnancy mention & discussion, tsu'tey catches baby fever bad, he is also very whipped

masterlist

baby fever

If you were to ask Tsu’tey, he would tell you that he’s never been happier. His life is truly as close to perfect as possible. The Omaticaya have reclaimed the forest as their home, he has established himself as an experienced warrior-teacher, and he has the sweetest little mate he could have ever asked for. It doesn’t matter that you’re human; you fit in his life so perfectly, he can’t stomach the thought of anyone else taking your place.

Life is good. He can’t remember the last time he was this content with himself and his place in the clan. Things are finally getting back to normal now that the Sky People have returned to wherever they came from, and the people are high-spirited and joyful.

When Jakesully and Neytiri choose to take on the child born from Grace’s demon false-Na’vi body, Tsu’tey hardly takes notice. He spends his evenings and nights nuzzling into you and losing himself in your body, and his mornings foraging for fruit for your shared breakfast. It’s an impossibly easy lifestyle, lackadaisical and whimsical, and he enjoys every second of it.

He can’t think of a single damn thing he’d change. At least, he couldn’t. But that starts to change around the time that Neytiri and Jake welcome their first son into the world.

The clan celebrates for days. The birth was quick and easy. Tsu’tey has never seen his old friend glowing so bright, and he joins in with the feasting and the dancing and the singing along with the rest of his People. The elation is almost palpable in the air; the people are happy for their Olo’eyktan and for Neytiri, and they take the easy birth of a strong baby as a good sign for the future.

Neteyam. He is a happy child. Even as a tiny baby, he rarely cries. He just takes in the world around him with wide, curious eyes. Neytiri holds him close and watches him as though she has birthed the personification of her heart, smiling and whispering soft words and songs to him every chance she gets.

Tsu’tey thinks it’s all very sweet, but that’s really all he thinks about it. He is pleased for his friends, but other than that he doesn’t think too much about things. He is busy, after all; much of his day is spent training the young warriors and hunters. It’s fulfilling, and he enjoys his work.

The change in his thinking doesn’t occur gradually – rather, it hits all at once, like a punch to the gut.

He returns to the village one evening to find your little form next to Neytiri and Jake by the cookfire. His hackles raise instinctively at the sight of you so damn close to Jakesully (an irrational reaction considering he is holding Kiri in his arms and Neytiri is also sitting right there, but he can’t help it), but he relaxes slightly as he approaches and sees that you’re just chatting.

When he gets close and gets a proper look at what you’re holding in your arms, he nearly trips gracelessly over his own feet.

Even as a newborn, Neteyam is almost comically large in your arms. His pudgy limbs wave in the air, and his big golden eyes gaze up at you in fascination. You return his look right back, your expression soft and awed as you coo at him.

At your side, Neytiri watches your every move carefully. It has taken her some time to warm up to you, given that you’re a living reminder of the people who had caused so much loss and destruction of her planet, but the two of you have slowly but steadily built up a sense of trust between each other. Still, she is visibly cautious when it comes to allowing you to hold the baby.

“Tsu’tey,” Jakesully calls, waving him over with a grin. “Come here, brother. Have you eaten?”

Tsu’tey feels as though he’s been struck between the eyes. He can’t tear his attention away from the baby in your arms nor the way you’re smiling at him. When you finally look up from Neteyam only to smile softly at Tsu’tey instead, he thinks his heart might actually explode. He tries to smile back at you, but he’s sure it comes across as a pained grimace instead.

His steps are less sure than before when he continues forward, choosing to settle down by your side. His eyes dart down to the baby in your lap and stick there. Neteyam stares back at him – it seems like neither of them quite know what to make of each other.

When he finally looks away from the baby, it’s just in time to see Neytiri and Jakesully exchanging an amused sort of look, as though they’re both trying not to laugh. You, on the other hand, look a little concerned.

“Are you alright?” You murmur, leaning into him.

You’ve rested against him like this a thousand times before, and yet Tsu’tey feels his mouth run dry. Oh, what is happening to him right now?

“Yes.” He says a little woodenly, before turning to Jakesully. “I have not eaten yet.”

Jake is still watching him with an odd little smirk, but he nods and hands him a nikt'chey filled with sweet meat and vegetables. Tsu’tey takes it with an appreciative nod, before tearing a bite out of it a little more savagely than he intended.

You’re still watching him confusedly, but you obviously decide not to ask any further questions. Instead, you look back down at Neteyam and run the pad of your index finger down the bridge of his wide nose. The baby’s mouth opens in a gummy little smile, and you smile behind your breathing mask on reflex.

“Sweet thing,” You coo at Neteyam as his little hands grab at your fingers, and Tsu’tey nearly chokes on his nikt'chey.

It’s just a baby, he thinks frantically to himself. Pull yourself together.

He’d be lying if he said that he never thought about starting a family with you, but it wasn’t ever a real, serious thought. It was just little daydreams, idle fantasies after mating with you so soft and lovingly and leaving you full of his release. But now, seeing you holding Jakesully and Neytiri’s baby, he starts thinking of you carrying his own baby. Thinks of you plump and round, belly swollen with the baby he put in you.

His fingers squeeze the wrap a little too hard, and some of the filling spills out over his fingers.

Jake laughs, a stupid little snicker that has Tsu’tey scowling at him. It’s unlikely that the Olo’eyktan knows exactly what he’s been thinking, but the demon has always been perceptive – he likely has a vague idea. Tsu’tey imagines that his expression has likely been rather telling.

“Hey,” Jakesully says suddenly. “Why don’t you hold Kiri for a moment?”

Tsu’tey goes still, before checking over his shoulder in case Jake was talking to someone else.

“Ah,” He says, a little uncomfortably. “I do not think-”

“Oh, yes!” You smile, shifting your hold on Neteyam so that he’s cradled to your chest as you look up at Tsu’tey. “You haven’t met either of the babies properly yet, have you?”

“I attended their birth celebrations-”

“That’s not meeting them.” You interrupt with an eyeroll, before gesturing Jake’s way.

Tsu’tey is still protesting when Jake deposits the other baby in his arms, and he stiffens as he scrambles to support Kiri’s head as it lolls on her weak little neck. His nikt'chey falls half-eaten to the ground as he tries to hold the baby as securely as possible.

If Neteyam looked small in your hands, Kiri looks tiny in his. Something in his stomach twists. Oh. Alright then.

“Aren’t they so cute?” You whisper to him, laying your head against his bicep and grinning down at the baby in his hands.

Tsu’tey just grunts. He’s not sure that he’ll actually be capable of making words right now if he tries.

His reticence doesn’t bother you – you’re so patient with him, never minding all that much when he goes broodingly silent. You’re so good at giving him space and time to think, to come to terms with all the thoughts that spin wildly around his head. But now, the space you offer only gives him more time to consider things that he really shouldn’t be considering.

“Yeah,” Jakesully drawls, and he wraps an arm around Neytiri’s shoulders before pressing a kiss to her temple. “We make cute babies.”

“You didn’t even make Kiri yourselves.” You point out with a laugh, rocking Neteyam softly against your chest as he lets out a quiet little babbling sound.

“Yeah, she just picked up on the cuteness by being around us,” Jake grins. “Like that science shit. What’s it called… osmosis.”

“That’s not how osmosis works, moron-”

Tsu’tey hardly hears a word either of you are saying. Kiri is shifting in his hands, her tiny pink mouth opening as she yawns with a flash of her gums. Her hair is downy and soft, and her tiny hands clench around air as she reaches out, seeking a grip on anything. Were all babies this lovely? He had no idea – he’s never really been around any.

His gaze slides sideways, towards you once more. On a good day he finds it difficult to keep his eyes off you, but now? With you holding a little Na’vi baby to your chest as though it’s all so perfectly natural, and smiling as though you’ve never been happier? Now, he’s finding it impossible to keep his eyes off you.

He would make cute babies with you. He just knows it.

A throat is cleared, and Tsu’tey is jarred from his thoughts. When he looks up, he finds that Neytiri is looking at him with a particularly knowing look. You’re still talking to Jake, laughing at whatever he’s saying, but Tsu’tey still grows flustered. He feels caught.

“Take her back.” He says, his voice gruff as he proffers the baby back to her parents.

Kiri’s tails waves lazily in mid-air before wrapping around his wrist, and Tsu’tey nearly crumbles entirely. Why was this happening right now? He was fine before this – now, he feels as though his mind is melting into absolute mush.

Neytiri raises an eyebrow at him, clearly unimpressed by his manner, but she accepts the baby back all the same. Kiri gurgles, and Neytiri coos softly at her before holding her protectively to her breast.

Still embarrassed at having been caught out, Tsu’tey’s eyes slide right back to you. This time though, you’re looking back at him. Neteyam’s head is resting sleepily against your chest and you’re stroking at the fluffy bits of hair on his head, but you’re watching him closely. There’s a little crease between your brows – you look concerned.

You look to Jake, and offer Neteyam out with a smile. “Better take the little guy too, then.”

Jake takes his son back, and Tsu’tey watches with a twitching tail as he smiles down at his son so proudly. He doesn’t fully realise that he’s staring until he feels your small little hand on his forearm, and then he looks down to see you peering up into his face. He knows that you would be able to read him all too easily, so he hurries to wipe his expression clean.

“Are you okay?” You whisper, low so that Jake and Neytiri can’t hear. “You’re quiet. Even more so than usual, I mean.”

“I am fine, ma’muntxate,” He says mechanically. He thinks once again of you with a rounded belly, happy and sated in your shared kelku, and wonders if his brain is rotting.

You’re still squinting at him, clearly unconvinced. “Is it because you dropped your food? I can get you more-”

“No,” He says, though it comes out distracted and unconvincing. “I am tired. I will go to bed now.”

“But don’t you want-”

Tsu’tey has always prided himself on being a fearless warrior, a mighty hunter. And yet in that moment, he ran from the cookfire like a coward to take refuge in the dark shelter of the kelku where no one could see how shamefaced he was.

Tsu’tey is embarrassed to admit that for several days, he avoids you like the plague.

He’s afraid that you’ll read his thoughts right off his face. He can barely even make eye contact with you. Now that he’s started thinking about it, it feels like he can’t think of anything else.

The thoughts of family, of children, have set into his thoughts like an infection. The thought of you carrying his baby is wonderful (and the thought of making the baby even better) but that’s not the only place his thoughts stray to. He thinks of raising the child, with you by his side.

Parenthood doesn’t suit everyone, he knows that, but you? You have so much unconditional love to give, he knows that you would be wonderful. When he thinks of himself as a father, a curl of excitement licks at his stomach. He imagines how it would feel to hold his child close, to teach them the ways of the people, how to hunt and provide. He thinks of how he would teach you how to weave a songcord, how you could both add on to it for every milestone.

It’s not fair, and he knows that. He was content before – he is content now. His life is good. He doesn’t need anything else, but he just… he can’t help but think. You are stronger than you look, but you are still delicate. There are many things your body can take, but a Na’vi pregnancy? Not likely. And that’s assuming that you actually could get pregnant. You may be sexually compatible, but that doesn’t mean that you’re going to be reproductively compatible. And that’s fine – really!

He’ll get over this moment of madness, he just needs a little bit of space to get his thoughts together.

He spends the next few days hunting deep in the forest, or lurking around the village in spots that you’re not likely to come looking for him. He ends up spending a lot of time in the hot springs north of the village, hoping that the hot water will soothe the ache in his shoulders from all that tension he’s been carrying around.

He had thought that he was being subtle, but he is not entirely oblivious to the looks that he’s been getting from others around the village. It was rare for him to spend so much time away from you, and he knows that everyone is wondering about it.

“Trouble in paradise?” Jakesully asks one day, following him around the village like an unwanted little pest.

“What?” Tsu’tey snaps; he is still unused to those irritating little human idioms.

“What is going on with you, man?” Jake asks, reaching out to grab at his arm.

Tsu’tey wrenches his arm free and bares his teeth in warning. Jake throws his hands up in surrender, but he doesn’t look sorry.

“Nothing is wrong.” Tsu’tey grumbles, rolling his shoulders and attempting to look unaffected.

Jakesully just raises an eyebrow. “Right. Look, whatever you argued about, just talk to her-”

Tsu’tey is surprised at that, though he tries not to show it. “We have not argued.”

“No?” Jake’s brows furrow. “Oh. Well, why are you being so weird, then? She’s all upset, you know. Thinks that you’re angry with her.”

Tsu’tey’s stomach sinks. Fuck, he knew that he was handling this badly. Now he’s gotten himself into one big mess.

Jakesully is still looking at him thoughtfully, but then his expression unfolds into realisation. “Oh, man. Is this about the baby thing?”

Tsu’tey nearly chokes at that. How could Jakesully have known?

“What?”

“Oh, come on,” Jake rolls his shoulders, and glances around quickly to ensure that no one is listening in. Tsu’tey has a furtive look around of his own, and then Jake is leaning in to talk quietly, “Look, I’m not judging. When Neytiri said she wants kids, I swear I couldn’t keep my hands off her-”

Tsu’tey whirls, baring his teeth in warning, but Jake just keeps going.

“Just talk to her, skxawng. It doesn’t matter if you have some weird pregnancy kink-”

“I do not!”

“She’s been sniffling around the place for days now, thinking that you’re not into her anymore!” Jake steamrolls over his protests. “Just tell her you want babies and that you’ve been acting like a total dickhead about it. You know she’ll forgive you, but she has to understand first.”

Tsu’tey stands there, feeling as though he had just been slapped around the head.

“She thinks I am not interested in her?” He repeats, bewildered. “But- we have mated before Eywa. She is my mate. How could I lose interest?”

Jakesully has a look of longsuffering about him, as though this conversation is ageing him years. “Yeah, well. Didn’t I tell you before that mating doesn’t work the same for humans? She’s worried you changed your mind.”

Tsu’tey is absolutely floored. He had tied himself to you for life when he had mated with you. Every success and failure, every triumph and heartbreak, every low and high, it was all to be shared with you. There would never be anyone else – the thought of there being anyone else made his stomach rebel.

“Why would she not tell me that she is feeling like this?” He wonders, a little hurt.

He’s not expecting the harsh shove that comes to his shoulder, and he hisses at Jakesully before stepping out of the way of another hit.

“You’re avoiding her, moron!” Jake snaps, apparently having officially lost patience. “How the hell can she tell you anything if you keep running from her?”

Tsu’tey’s ears flatten. He recognises that he is being unreasonable, and he shuffles uncomfortably on his feet.

“My desires are not fair to her,” He mumbles, shame-faced. “She is enough for me, she will always be enough for me, but I keep thinking…” He trails off, uncertain about how to voice his feelings. “I am thinking of possibilities.”

Jakesully is watching him with an expression that is uncomfortably knowing.

Tsu’tey clears his throat, embarrassed and irritable over his vulnerability. “She was very good with your children. Did you see?”

Jake’s face twitches into a smirk. “Yeah, man. I saw. Your reaction was pretty obvious.”

He grumbles, but doesn’t see any point in arguing. It probably was obvious.

Jake sighs, and reaches out to push at his shoulder again. This time it’s more gentle. “Go on. Go talk to her. This is stuff that she should be hearing.”

Jakesully has a point, to Tsu’tey’s irritation, and he bows his head.

“I will talk to her.” Tsu’tey mumbles, looking away.

As it happens, Tsu’tey doesn’t have to go looking for you at all. You find him.

He’s in the forest outside the village, hovering around the stream as he waits to spot a fish, when you emerge from the trees behind him.

His ears perk up in surprise at the sight of you. “What are you doing here, ma’yawntu? It is not safe for you to come into the forest alone-”

You don’t appear to be listening to him at all. Your eyes are narrowed and you glare at him as you hop down the rocks so that you can stand in front of him. When he reaches out to help you climb down to the shore of the river, you slap his hands away with a scowl.

“For fuck’s sake, will you just tell me what’s wrong?” You hiss, your expression all crumpled up and hurt. “Jake said that you weren’t angry at me, but I don’t understand why you’re avoiding me like this!”

His ears pin back against his head. He had planned to come and find you, but now it feels as though he’s been cornered. He hasn’t planned what he was going to say to you, and he finds himself floundering. How could he tell you? There was no easy way to put his desires into words.

“Of course I am not angry at you.” He mumbles, slinging his bow over his shoulder. After a beat of hesitation, he steps forward so that he’s kneeling in front of you at eye-level. “Sweet girl. I am sorry.”

“For what?” You demand. Your expression is all scrunched – he is confusing you, and his stomach sinks at the realisation that he has been upsetting you so much.

His tail lashes anxiously. How is he supposed to look you in the eyes and confess this? It is so selfish of him.

“You were very good with the babies.” He murmurs, fixing his gaze on your shoulder.

Even without looking directly at your face, he can see your look of bewilderment. To you, that probably seems like a non-sequitur.

“The babies?”

“Mm.”

You’re still staring at him blankly. “Are you trying to change the subject?”

“No,” He mumbles, his cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. “It is the same subject.”

Very slowly, comprehension is beginning to dawn over your face. “So all this is about babies?”

Oh, he wants the ground to open up beneath him and swallow him whole. You must think him disgusting. Do you think he is a bad mate? It is so selfish of him to wish for this, after all.

“Oh, Tsu’tey,” You sigh. “You idiot.”

His ears flatten as he frowns at you. “Why idiot?”

When you step forward and loop your arms around his shoulders, he perks up a little. Does this mean that you are not angry with him?

“Why wouldn’t you talk to me about this, skxawng?” You murmur, reaching out to run your fingers through his beaded braids. His eyelids flutter at the pleasant feeling and he leans into your hands. “You want a family?”

“You are my family.” He says quickly, shifting on his knees before raising his hands to rest against your little hips. That makes you smile.

“I know,” You breathe, thumb stroking over his cheek. “I know that. But I’m asking you about children.”

Tsu’tey’s sure that his pupils have expanded, and he can feel his tail swishing slowly from side to side. You’re not judging him at all; you’re just waiting for an honest answer. He feels his heart swell impossibly larger.

“I… have been thinking about it,” He says. His voice is low and embarrassed, but he raises his gaze so that he’s looking right into your eyes. “About you having my children.”

It feels like a dirty little secret, but you’re smiling at him so fondly.

“Yeah?” You breathe, grinning. “Well, why the fuck were you hiding from me, then?”

His ears twitch. “It felt… selfish, tìyawn. To wish for something you cannot give.”

That makes you frown. “Can’t give?”

His thumb strokes over your waist, his eyes drawn to your belly. “You are so small. You could not carry my child. It would be too dangerous, even if it were possible.”

You’re watching him thoughtfully, lips pursed. “Is this like, a thing for you? You just want to see me pregnant?”

He certainly can’t deny his interest in that, but it’s important that you know that’s not just it.

“Not only that,” He murmurs, leaning forward to kiss the base of your throat. “I keep thinking… I think of you raising our child. I think of teaching them, of loving them. You would be wonderful with them, I know it. And I… I would like fatherhood, I think.”

Your expression has gone so soft, and when you lean in to kiss the top of his ear a shudder rips through him. His hands tighten around your waist, and he leans in to nuzzle insistently at your throat.

Oh, this little confession feels like having a weight lifted from his shoulders. You weren’t angry at him – you just listened, so full of understanding. How could he have expected anything less from you?

“Tsu’tey,” You murmur, tilting your head back with a sigh as he nips a soft kiss into your throat. “Come with me.”

He glances up at that, interest piqued. “Where?”

“The science outpost.”

Oh, now you have his attention. He perks up in delight, and moves to stand immediately. You have not lived among the other humans in the science outpost since you had mated with Tsu’tey and moved into his kelku, but that does not mean that you have not been back to the little human encampment since. It is the only place where it is safe for you to remove your breathing mask, and so the two of you make good use of your old bunk whenever you feel the need to.

“Let’s go then.” Tsu’tey says, doing a poor job at concealing his eagerness.

You just laugh, and take his hand as he leads the way through the forest. Several times he gets a little too impatient when you slowly clamber over roots or rocks, and he ends up scooping you right up into his arms as he barrels his way through the forest.

The science outpost isn’t too far away, but it still feels as though it takes an age to reach it. When the shoddy building finally looms up in the distance, Tsu’tey feels his stomach leap. It has been too long since he’s had full access to his little mate’s face, and he longs to kiss you properly. What will likely follow after the kissing is even more thrilling, and he feels his tail lash eagerly at the thought of taking you in that cramped little bed.

You’re laughing at his eagerness as he attempts to shoulder his way inside the building, clenching his jaw in irritation as he’s forced to wait for the pressurised doors to close behind them and regulate the atmosphere before the two of you are allowed past the entryway.

“Someone’s excited.” You say coyly, reaching up to remove your mask as soon as the doors slide open with a hiss, allowing you to enter the outpost properly.

Tsu’tey doesn’t care that several of the human scientists turn to look at the two of you when you step inside. He has not had access to your face for over a week now, and he catches you by the waist before leaning in for a quick, passionate kiss. He is excited, and he likes letting you know exactly how you make him feel.

The scientists are very used to the two of you by now, and he can hear them start to hastily gather up their things as they prepare to give you some privacy.

Good, He thinks smugly. They know when to leave.

But then, to his confusion, you break away from him.

“Wait, Norm!” You call out.

The lanky human scientist pauses, looking up with a visible wince. He looks anxious at the sight of you, and his gaze cuts towards Tsu’tey with a grimace.

“Ah. Hey.” He says weakly, lowering his files back down to the desk he had just scrambled to pick them from. “We’re actually headed out now! So, um, you can do whatever-”

“No,” You say quickly, growing visibly flustered at the insinuation. “We’re not here for that.”

Tsu’tey’s head swivels around to look at you, his brow drawing low. “We are not?”

You ignore him, swatting absently at his side as you focus on Norm. “Where’s Spider?”

Norm is looking from you to Tsu’tey, and Tsu’tey is looking blankly back at him. He has no more idea about what you’re doing here than the scientist does – especially since it appears that you hadn’t brought him here with mating in mind. He feels a little put out, honestly.

“He, uh… He’s been running wild all morning. He’s totally tuckered out now – he’s sleeping in the back.” Norm says at last, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” You smile at him, before reaching to take Tsu’tey’s hand in yours.

He goes easily when you tug at him, following you with a confused scowl as you lead him towards the back of the building. When you lead him into the living quarters, he looks wistfully towards your old bunk, but you pull him on insistently.

“Why are we here?” He mumbles, still scowling a little. He is happy to be here with you, but he doesn’t understand why you’ve brought him amongst the Sky People.

For a moment, you don’t answer. You just pull the little CO2 regulator off your bunk where it had been left the last time he was here, and push the breathing mask into his hands. He takes it with a grumble, and takes a deep inhale before looping it around his neck.

“I want to show you something.” You say simply, before raising his big hand to your mouth and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

His ears rotate forward, pleased with the sensation of your soft lips against his skin. Unable to deny you anything, he follows you without complaint.

As you approach the back of the room, ducking under the privacy curtains, his ears pick up on soft, snuffling breathing.

“What is that?” He mutters to you, tugging at your hand.

You hush him, before pulling back one last privacy curtain to reveal a small bunk. The bed is occupied by a figure so small that Tsu’tey squints at it in bewilderment. It is a human child, obviously, no older than two years old, but he hadn’t ever imagined that human babies were so small.

Your eyes are fixed carefully onto his face as he steps forward to peer down at the child, but he doesn’t look at you. The child is fast asleep, his mouth dropped open as a little bit of drool glistens on his cheek. Golden, tangled curls are plastered to his forehead, and he snuffles sleepily as he nuzzles into the pillow under his head. He’s clearly being well-fed, but there are streaks of dirt around his plump face and across his legs.

“The science guys have been taking care of him as best as they can, especially Norm,” You murmur, your voice very soft to avoid waking the baby. “But you know how they are. Sometimes they forget to eat and shower themselves, nevermind a baby.”

Tsu’tey is still watching the child sleep, a confused frown beginning to creep across his face. He is not stupid. He has heard of this child before. His existence alone has been controversial for the People, though he has gone unseen and unheard of for the most part. Are you suggesting what he thinks you’re suggesting?

“He has no one,” You whisper to him, soothing in the dim light of the room. “I’ve been thinking of suggesting this for a while, but I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”

“Yawntutsyìp, I know who this child’s father is.” He tries to keep his voice low like you, but he can’t help the rough edge that has crept in.

“He has no father.” You whisper back stubbornly. “He has no mother. Look at him.”

Ears flat, Tsu’tey obeys. His eyes travel over the child’s grimy skin, and he grimaces as his tail tucks low.

“He is a sky demon.” He grumbles, though he is already leaning closer to look at the child’s face.

“So am I,” You point out grimly. “You don’t always get to choose how your children turn out, you know.”

His children. Tentatively, he reaches out and rubs at a spot of dirt on the child’s leg. Instead of flinching away from his touch like he had expected, Spider leans into his hand. His throat tightens, and he wonders how often this child actually experiences physical contact – even asleep, he chases after it as though he’s starved of it.

“How will he breathe in the village?” Tsu’tey wonders, brow furrowed. “Your masks will not fit him.”

From the corner of his eye, he can see you biting at your lip. He realises that he’s just inadvertently conceded to you, and he tries not to sigh.

“Norm has made him a smaller one that will fit.” You murmur, edging closer to him. “You’re thinking about it?”

“It will be hard for him.” Tsu’tey is frowning, reaching for your hand and squeezing lightly at your hands to ensure that you’re listening to him. “He is too small. Too weak. This world is not made for him, and the People will find it difficult to accept him.”

You hum softly and edge closer, laying your head against his shoulder. The proximity makes him relax a little against you, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“You could say the same about me, you know.” You say pointedly, nuzzling at his shoulder. “But you’ve taken care of me so far. I know you’d look after him, too.”

Even in this circumstance, he preens lightly under your praise. It means a lot to hear that you believe him to be a strong care-taker and a good provider, to both you and to a possible child.

“If we don’t care for him, he’ll be raised here,” You breathe. “He won’t get any proper care. Look at him – he’s not even two yet, and he’s being overlooked already. He needs attention, and looking after. And you just told me that you are willing to offer those things to a child.”

He is already nodding. He can see that you’re right – the human scientists are not capable of raising anything, they are not capable of seeing. They lack the ability to connect to anything, only able to appreciate his planet on a surface level.

Your attention shifts back to the child on the bed, and your face softens into a smile. “Hey, Spider. You remember me?”

Tsu’tey’s head snaps back around to find that the baby has awoken, and is staring up at him with wide eyes. Tsu’tey stares back, uneasy and curious. Slowly, Spider nods.

Your smile brightens. “This is Tsu’tey. Can you say hello?”

Spider does not say hello, but he does sit up so that he can peer curiously into Tsu’tey’s face. He doesn’t appear afraid at all, and Tsu’tey wonders if he is the first Na’vi that he has ever seen.

“Hello,” Tsu’tey rumbles, his English heavily accented.

The child’s fearlessness is admirable, especially in the face of one so much larger than him. Tsu’tey finds himself reluctantly impressed.

“Come here,” You murmur, reaching out your hands.

Tsu’tey watches with avid interest as the child crawls forward into your arms. You wrap him into your arms and pull him against your chest, stroking his mess of curls as he lays his head against your shoulder. What a quiet little thing.

Something odd curls in his chest at the sight. His small human mate, holding such a tiny human child. Cautiously, he curls his arm around your shoulders and feels you lean into him.

Oh, he thinks. The rush of emotions at the feeling of holding his mate and a child in his arms is startling, and he takes a deep breath as he nuzzles his nose into your hair. It feels right.

“I will have to finish building the rope bridge to our kelku,” He grumbles. “He will need a safe way of getting up there without breaking his neck. The ladder will not be enough for one so small.”

A big grin is blooming across your face, and you twist around to look at him over your shoulder. “Protective daddy mode activated already, huh?”

He doesn’t understand half of what that means, but he can’t stop the eager thump of his tail. Yes, he will be a good father. He will keep the child safe.

A very tiny smile begins to curl around his mouth, and he brushes his nose along your shoulder. With his face hidden from you, he finally has the courage to say, “I have always wanted a big family.”

He feels your little laugh more than he hears it, and then you say, “I have something else to show you.”

When you stand up straight, Spider clings to you. It’s a sweet sight. He doesn’t look like a demon, like this. He looks small and delicate and weak.

“Hey,” You murmur to Spider. “Want to go up high?”

When the child nods, you turn and hand him to Tsu’tey. He freezes, staring at the child that you’re offering him. Spider stares back at him, wide-eyed and inquisitive as his limbs dangle in the air.

“He wants to go on your shoulders,” You whisper pointedly, raising your eyebrows.

“Ah.” Tsu’tey manages, finally reaching to take him. It’s scarier than he had expected, taking the child into his hands. Spider is very small, and Tsu’tey’s hands practically dwarf him.

When Tsu’tey reaches to settle the baby on his shoulders, Spider’s tiny hands grab at his braids and tangle there. A quiet, almost impossible to hear, little laugh comes out of his mouth, and Tsu’tey feels the child leaning heavily against him for balance.

You’re looking up at them both so softly, and you smile as you reach to tug at Tsu’tey’s hand. As always, he follows you without asking questions.

When the two of you emerge from the living quarters with Spider on Tsu’tey’s shoulders, the two of you are subject to a lot of raised eyebrows and surprised sort of looks. Tsu’tey meets those looks with a dangerous glare of his own, and the curious human scientists are quick to look away.

He follows you through the laboratory, one of his hands settled cautiously over Spider’s very tiny thigh to prevent him from falling off his shoulders. Every so often the child will giggle softly, and one of Tsu’tey’s ears will flick in response.

At the back of the lab, there’s a large glass tank, and you gesture at it as you approach.

“Do you know what that is?” You ask, reaching out to tap lightly at the glass.

Tsu’tey frowns at it. The tube is not empty. It’s full of some kind of liquid, and floating in it is a body that is very familiar. It’s Grace. Or at least, what was once Grace’s avatar.

“A tube.” He says, rather unintelligently. He does not want to admit his ignorance, but you pick up on it anyway.

“Avatars are grown in tubes just like this.” You say, peering in at Grace with a sad smile. “Whole Na’vi bodies grown from half human, half Na’vi DNA. Impressive, isn’t it?”

“Demon technology.” Tsu’tey comments with a frown. Spider shifts on his shoulders, and he hurries to adjust his grip on the child.

You roll your eyes. “I thought you’d be used to demon technology by now, muntxatan,” His tail swishes at the term of endearment, but you just smile and continue, “My body might not be able to sustain a hybrid pregnancy, but it doesn’t need to. There’s no reason that this demon technology couldn’t be used to grow a baby from human and Na’vi DNA. It’d be kind of like IVF, in a way.”

That gives Tsu’tey pause, and he turns to look at the tube with a new perspective. He had never considered that the demon technology could be used for something like that. It is… a lot to absorb.

“You don’t have to think too much about it just yet,” Your voice is so soft, as though you know he has been overloaded. “But if you want a big family… well. I just wanted you to know that it’s possible.”

He doesn’t have the first idea of what to say. He has gone from believing that he was aberrant for wishing for this with you and being terrified to so much as voice his desires, to agreeing to take on a little demon baby, and already planning for more.

His ears swivel, his eyes wide and thoughtful. Slowly, he nods.

“We will discuss more later,” He murmurs, bringing his free hand low to rest on your lower back as Spider tugs at his braids. “We must take the child back to our kelku, first.”

“What’s the rush?” You ask, teasing at him.

Tsu’tey squares his shoulders, some of his old confidence returning. This is a challenge he is fit for, he’s sure of it. He will provide for his tiny weak mate and his new tiny weak son, and he will protect them to the best of his ability. You have been quick to learn the ways of the People – Spider will learn too, with guidance. His mouth twitches at the thought of teaching him customs, teaching him how to hunt, making him a songcord. All those nonsense dreams he had, now a reality.

“I have to finish that rope bridge.”

#tsu'tey fic #tsu'tey x reader #na'vi x human #na'vi x reader #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #avatar 2 #awow #tsu'tey #avatar 2009 #terato #fluff #fics

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kteezy997 · 1 year ago

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The Candy Man- Part Four// W.W.

Warnings/Info: cursing, fluff, lots of Wonka whimsy, Willy liking pregnancy boobs

It worked. Everything went according to plan, and your husband has no reason to believe that he wasn’t the father of your baby.

With time, your belly started to grow more and more, and luckily, so did Willy’s chocolate sales.

You were about four months along in your pregnancy when Willy gave you the news that he had bought the chocolate shoppe. He was beaming with glee and you were overjoyed for him. You wanted to help him, so you said, “How about I come and work for you?”

“Oh, no no, no heavy lifting for you, or being on your feet for hours.” he said firmly as he caressed your belly.

“Not even just as the cashier, Willy? I haven’t had a job in years since I’ve been a wife. I’d love to get back out into the world again. And be with you, of course. I’ll keep a stool nearby to sit in if I get tired, if that would make you feel better.”

Willy sighed, then he grinned at you, “Okay, you can work the register. I know that I can count on you. You did promise to help run the business side of things.” He took your hands in his, “Things are happening, y/n. I’ve saved enough money to not only to but the shoppe, but also to rent an apartment nearby. I know it won’t be as spacious and comfortable as what you’re used to, but this is just the beginning. I want you to live with me. And if things keep going the way they have been, you’ll be living like a Queen, and our baby will be the prince or princess of the Wonka chocolate empire.” Willy had put his forehead on yours.

"Oh, Willy, you have already made me the happiest woman in the world. I just know that you-that we will have everything we dream of, I'm happy to work hard, and to be with you and our child."

You and Willy were so absorbed in one another and your daydreaming, that you didn't even hear the front door of your home open.

"What. The. Fuck?" it was your husband, home early and unexpectedly from work.

You and Willy looked over at Mr. Hudson, both in shock. You didn’t know what to say.

“John, how-"

“What a fine day this is, huh? I come home with a sniffle to find my wife with the fucking…chocolate salesman?”

“John, it’s, it’s not what you-well it is actually…”

“That’s it, y/n! Tell me what the hell is going on here.” he yelled, approaching you, towering over you with his height, and actively trying to intimidate you. This was the side of him only you saw.

“John,” you trembled, “this baby isn’t yours, it’s his. I’m in love with him.”

“Ha, well you can go ahead and be in love in the streets for all I care. Get your clothes and get the hell out of my house.”

You were scared, not necessarily of John, but to leave the only home you knew. You were glad that John didn’t say or do anything to Willy.

Willy was with you as you packed, and he held your hand on the way out of the house. You thought that maybe it was a good thing that this has happened now, rather than drag it out any further.

“Alright well, let’s go check out that apartment.” Willy said in his cheery voice to help make you feel better. You knew that you were going to be happy with this man, no matter what.

You were able to close on an apartment that day, well, Willy was, as you didn’t have an income yet. But that soon changed as you went to work together in the chocolate shoppe. Within days of opening, you were making good money.

You balanced the cash drawers, and the accounting books as Willy worked hard on his sweet creations. The candy he made was as tasty as ever, and the shoppe was an absolute dream. Hoverchocs, giraffe milk macaroons, edible flowers, and lollipops as far as the eye could see. It was a whimsical, colorful, joy to behold, with a giant winding cherry tree in the middle of the shoppe. There were pink cotton Candy clouds that you could climb upon, you and Willy would sit on them and have some chocolate milk, and then eat the tea cups.

It was the most fun you’d ever had in your life. It also felt amazing to help build something from essentially nothing, and to be creative with him.

Even at home, Willy would be inventing new flavors and trying new techniques and asking for your input of course.

...........

As you went into the later months of your pregnancy, you and Willy were able to buy a house. It was no mansion, but it was big enough to accommodate a young couple and their new baby, and maybe another child down the road.

You would be at the shoppe all day, resting adequately, of course. Willy eventually gave you an office in the back room to do your accounting work, which was good for you as you were heavily pregnant, but you started to miss being out front with customers. But you knew that once the baby arrived, things would be back to normal soon.

In the evenings, your tired Willy would rest his head on your big, basketball-sized belly and sing to our unborn baby. "Come with me, and you'll be in a woorrld of pure imagination." His voice was like that of an angel, soft and soothing. You could tell that your baby was relaxed by their father's voice, because he would lull you to sleep with his sweet lullabies after a long day in the office.

You started to set up the nursery together, and it was of course candy themed, much like your chocolate shoppe. Willy had lollipop raddles and candy cane-shaped teething rings made for the baby, among lots of other colorful accessories that resembled the sweet treats that were sold in the shoppe.

Above the baby's crib was a mobile made special by Willy, they were smaller versions of the pink cotton candy clouds that hung in the shoppe. Everything was absolutely adorable, and it made your heart swell with happiness.

After looking around the baby's room, you hugged your chocolatier, "Oh Willy, I'm so happy." you nuzzled against his shirt collar as he hugged you tightly. "I can't wait to meet our baby."

"Me either, my darling." he said, kissing you on the head, and then looked at you, "But I have to say that I'll miss your boobs being so big." He then eyed the large mounds on your chest.

You laughed, "You are a typical man, Willy Wonka. You can still use them as pillows after I have the baby."

"I know, but they're just so squishy right now-" he gently cupped your breasts through your shirt, "like marshmallows, or pudding."

"Okay, okay, you better stop before you get too excited, Willy." you giggled, kissing him.

Everything in your new home came together so beautifully, and your tried to enjoy it as much as possible, even though you were incredibly tired, and your body was swollen from head to toe. Your belly had grown much bigger than you ever would have expected.

Willy was wonderful during your whole pregnancy, but he was especially attentive to you in the last month. He would make you dinner after work, and no matter how tired he might have been, he never let on to his exhaustion. He would even massage your feet before bed. His sweetness and generosity never wavered.

.......

The day finally came: the day that you and Willy became parents. He was by your side throughout the entire birthing process, encouraging you and thanking you for giving him a child. He told you he loved you over and over, and wiped the sweat off of your forehead.

Your midwife was stunned after you had your baby, because she noticed another baby coming.

A/n: I hope you all are having a great Christmas season and have a safe and happy new year! The next chapter should be better than this one. lol

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey

#timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothee x reader #timothée imagine #timothee chalamet smut #willy wonka x reader #wonka #willy wonka

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sunflowerzyk · 6 months ago

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Royal Guard Simon Riley x Princess Reader

Part1.

SFW

Simon has a simple task, to keep the King's youngest daughter safe. A simple task for his finest knight.

That's what it was supposed to be, having to deal with a spoiled little girl 24/7.

But when I met you ..... You were spoiled, of course you were, but you were noble at heart, you genuinely wanted a quiet life for everyone, playing the role of queen, doing your late Andre's chores like organizing festivals and parties, inaugurating events on behalf of your father.

You were... A good person. He thought.

The society, the cruelty had not broken you as many... Like him, an old man who served all his life to your father's kingdom, with no other purpose but the adrenaline of war.

With a couple of bushes with sweet fruits that you picked every so often with him by your side. Standing guard. You called him. As if everyone didn't know about your little orchard that stained your dress with dirt as well as your hands when you knelt down to pick the fruit.

"Look what a mess you are". Simon complained in a low, calm voice, there was no real reprimand, but his tone was still harsh. Not used to talking to anyone other than his soldiers.

He moved his gloved hand to remove strands of hair that clung to your sweat-covered forehead.

In time he grew accustomed to your company, and discovered that despite being spoiled you had quite a few restrictions, no youthful lovers, you were terrified of talking to people in formal gatherings and loved having a small orchard hidden in your garden which he soon discovered.

"Just a little bit of dirt". You stood with a tired snort, holding a small basket of blueberries and other things with one hand and with the other gently pulling his hand away to wipe away the sweat.

You only caused the dirt to mix with the sweat making a worse mess.

"stop that, Princess, come on, you must have a bath."

Simon couldn't help but smile behind his helmet, seeing you, a princess whimsical about food and fine fabrics with pastel colors.... Dirty.... It generated ideas in him that he pushed away immediately.

He grabbed your wrist and dragged you inside the palace. He forgot when he started touching you willingly.

You just nodded, humming happily with your basket of berries, walking beside your guard dog that you had grown very fond of. Pushing your own limits of formality.

Thinking that next time you would behave more brat for he to hold you like that again.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #fanfiction #headcanons #ghost x female reader #AUMedieval CallofDuty #knight x princess #simon ghost riley sfw #sfw #Royal Guard Ghost x Princess Reader

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pookalicious-hq · 2 months ago

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blue velvet... jinx x reader

| 1.4. progress not perfection | prev | next | masterlist

synopsis: two girls trapped within a world full of hate would do anything for eachother. too bad they're both crazy. tags/tws: mentions of mental health illnesses, mention of suicide, blood and gore, mc has split personalities word count: 6.4k

present day: age 23

The sea of bodies sucked you in from either side, a swirling tide of motion and sound. Figures twisted and jostled, their voices rising over one another in a cacophony of excitement as they vied for a glimpse of Progress Day’s marvels. The air itself seemed to hum with energy, the sharp scent of steam and fuel mixing with the sweeter notes of caramelized nuts and fresh pastries. Somewhere nearby, a musician’s lively tune spilled over the noise, adding a whimsical rhythm to the chaos. The skies above were dotted with colourful banners snapping in the wind, their vibrant hues adding to the sharp contrast of the gleaming metalwork around you.

You tugged your hood lower, the fraying edge brushing against your cheek. Your wings, folded tightly against your back, twitched with the urge to stretch, but you kept them carefully hidden beneath your cloak. You’d made sure to preen yourself before leaving—the careful shaking off of loose feathers, the smoothening of your clothes so no stray plume could give away your presence. The last thing you wanted was to leave a trail. This was one of those rare moments when you could blend in, wander the city unnoticed, a fleeting chance to lose yourself in the celebration. A chance to be anonymous.

Still, you allowed yourself a small indulgence. The half-eaten pastry in your hand was sticky, crumbs clinging to your fingers as you weaved through the press of people. The sweet, greasy scent clung to the air, masking the slightly metallic smell of the machines around you. Your sharp eyes flitted between the vibrant displays, absorbing the cacophony of sights: clockwork animals that chirped and hopped, automatons strumming clumsy tunes, and an inventor passionately proclaiming the future of pneumatic transport.

You couldn’t resist. It was too tempting.

As the inventor’s voice crescendoed into the dramatic pitch of a sales pitch, you let your fingers brush against the edge of your cloak, a small static charge crackling through the air. The spark zipped into the exposed wiring of the machine, and the entire contraption jerked violently. Its spindly mechanical limbs flailed, thrashing through the air, smacking into the inventor’s leg and sending him tumbling into the air like a ragdoll. He landed in a tangle of metal and steam, and the crowd erupted in startled laughter.

You grinned, stepping away from the scene before anyone noticed you had been involved. Mischief always seemed to find you when you least expected it. In a crowd like this, no one ever connected the dots—Piltover was too busy admiring itself to worry about one little disruption.

As you sauntered away, a small voice called out behind you, tentative and high-pitched.

“Um, excuse me, miss?”

You paused and turned, blinking down at the small figure tugging at your attention. The little girl, no older than seven or eight, gazed up at you with wide, earnest eyes. Her dirty-blond hair framed her face in soft waves, and her tiny hands were clutching something in front of her.

In her grip was one of your feathers, big and gray, its edges tipped with silver like moonlight on dark water. It shimmered in the light, reflecting the kaleidoscope of colours around you.

Your heart sank.

Shit.

You’d made sure to shake out your wings before you flew up—checked every inch to make sure there were no stray feathers left behind. So why now? Why this one?

“You dropped this,” she said, as if it were a treasure instead of an accident.

“Oh,” you started, trying to hide the momentary panic in your voice. You reached out to take the feather, tucking it quickly beneath your cloak as you flashed the girl a forced smile. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

For a moment, she hesitated, eyeing the hidden feather with wide, curious eyes. You bit your lip, embarrassment creeping up your neck. But you couldn’t help the soft, genuine chuckle that escaped you. “You know what?” you said, crouching down to her level and gently taking the feather. “Why don’t you keep it?”

Her eyes widened in surprise, then her face broke into a smile so bright it made the noise of the crowd feel distant. “Really?” she gasped. “For me?”

You nodded, tucking the feather carefully into her hands. “Tell you what,” you said, leaning in close, your voice taking on a conspiratorial whisper, “this feather isn’t just any feather. It’s magical. I got it from a storm bird all the way in Ixtal.”

Her face lit up, her small fingers brushing over the edges of the feather as if expecting something to happen. “A storm bird? Like, one that makes lightning?”

“Exactly,” you replied, your eyes gleaming with mischief. “They’re rare creatures, and their feathers are said to bring good luck. So, if you keep this, you might just find yourself a little magic of your own.”

She gasped in awe, clutching the feather to her chest like it was the most precious thing in the world. “Thank you very much!” she beamed, barely able to contain her excitement.

Before you could say anything else, the girl’s mother appeared, her hands already reaching out to tug her daughter away. The woman’s eyes flicked over to you, scanning you from head to toe with quick, dismissive contempt. The glint of judgment was unmistakable in her gaze.

“What did I tell you about talking to strangers?” the mother snapped, her voice sharp and cold.

You stood, pushing your shoulders back as the woman’s eyes took in your worn cloak and scuffed boots—your mismatched, patched-up appearance. The clothes didn’t fit right, and the grime of Zaun still clung to your skin like an old memory. It wasn’t lost on you how quickly people like her could size you up. You weren’t part of this world.

“Come on,” she said to the little girl, her tone softening as she tugged her away. “Stay away from people like that.”

The girl hesitated, clutching the feather tightly to her chest, her wide eyes locking onto yours. You gave her a reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach your heart.

The bitterness crept in slowly, curling at the edges of your mind like smoke—dark, lingering, and impossible to shake off. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen it. That look. The judgment, the fear, the instinct to pull away from someone different. But something about seeing it in that little girl—someone so young, so full of wonder—made it sting more than usual.

Kids didn’t start out like that. They weren’t born to look at the world through a lens of suspicion and hatred. They didn’t come out of the womb fearing people they’d never met, or fearing the things they couldn’t understand. That was something that was taught. Something that was learned, and twisted, and fed to them like poison over time.

It was the system that did that. The walls that divided Piltover from the Undercity, the invisible lines that separated the 'worthy' from the 'unworthy.' Kids weren’t born knowing the difference between the two—they learned it by watching the way the streets were built, the way the towers reached higher and higher above the polluted depths of Zaun. They saw how people in the Upper City looked down at the world below them, how they turned their noses up, how they judged everyone and everything in it.

They heard their parents talk about 'the undesirables,' the 'unfortunate ones' from below. How they were a threat to everything Piltover stood for, how the poor, the outcasts, the criminals—those who lived in the shadows—were all 'dangerous' and 'dirty.' It was the kind of talk that seeped into a child’s bones without them even realizing it, until one day, it was as natural as breathing.

That same venom dripped into the veins of the next generation, and before you knew it, it wasn’t just the parents. The kids, too, started looking at you with the same disgust. The same fear.

But that wasn’t where it ended, was it? No. The system kept feeding into that fear, kept reinforcing the lies. In Piltover, it was about power and wealth, about who owned the shiny things, who had the money to pay for protection. And in Zaun, it was about survival. People didn’t get to choose who they became when they grew up. They either adapted, or they were crushed by the weight of the world around them.

It didn’t matter if you were born in the Undercity or the Upper City—you had no control over the cards you were dealt. But the kids, they didn’t know that yet. They didn’t know how the system stacked the deck before they were even born, how it trained them to see the world in black and white, to fear anyone who didn’t look like them, who didn’t have what they had.

The little girl’s eyes had been full of that. Her innocent excitement, all that wonder, until it was tainted by the shadow of her mother’s words. “Don’t talk to strangers.” A simple phrase, but one that held so much more weight when it was uttered with disdain. It was a lesson wrapped in a cruel package: ‘People like you and me don’t mix with people like her. Stay away. Protect yourself.’

It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t the little girl’s fault at all. You couldn’t blame the kids for the hate that was woven into them. They didn’t choose to be born into it. They didn’t have a choice in the matter. It was just how the world worked. The system taught them to fear, to distance themselves, and to ignore the humanity of those who lived beneath them.

And that was why it hurt so much. You’d seen the same pattern play out over and over, each time making it harder to believe that things could ever change. Because how could they, when the foundations of the world were built on this kind of cruelty?

You let out a slow breath, shaking off the sting of the encounter. It wasn’t worth dwelling on. Not today.

The thought barely had time to settle in your mind before a familiar shadow flickered across the ground, and a sharp, high-pitched screech split the air. You blinked, looking up just in time to catch sight of your falcon cutting through the crowd, her wings slicing through the sunlight like blades.

“Hey there, sweet pea,” you murmured with a half-smile, but something was off.

Instead of her usual graceful descent toward you, she veered wide, circling above your head in erratic loops. Her usual comforting presence felt distant now, her flight pattern erratic, as though something had startled her. You furrowed your brow, your fingers instinctively twitching at your sides, almost reaching for a weapon, but you held back, watching her every move.

Then you saw it.

Her talons flashed in the sunlight as they dipped lower, catching your eye. In the clutch of her claws dangled something delicate—too delicate, too out of place in this bustling crowd. You froze, every muscle in your body tensing.

A single strand of blue hair, eerily familiar, dangled like a silent warning from her sharp talons.

Your stomach churned, the blood draining from your face as a sick realization crawled up your spine.

Something had gone wrong.

As gracefully as you could, you navigated through the throngs of bodies. The air seemed to tighten around you as the crowd closed in, their cheers and chatter blurring into a dull roar at the edges of your consciousness. Every instinct screamed for you to break into a sprint, to push past the mass of bodies clogging the streets, but you forced yourself to move carefully, methodically, with purpose. You couldn’t afford to make a scene, not here, not now.

You adjusted the hood over your head, the fraying edge brushing against your cheek as you ducked beneath a banner strung low across the street. A vendor called out nearby, hawking some mechanical marvel, his booming voice cutting sharply through the noise, but you barely registered it. Your focus was locked on weaving through the shifting sea of people, each step measured, your wings pressed tighter against your back beneath the cloak.

The strand of blue hair swung like a pendulum in your mind, its presence as vivid as if it were still dangling before your eyes. Jinx’s hair. There was no mistaking it. The vibrant hue was burned into your memory, a colour that belonged to her and her alone. That single strand carried weight—a message, a warning, maybe even a cry for help.

Your falcon circled above, her sharp screeches drawing a few curious glances from passersby. You clicked your tongue softly, a signal for her to keep her distance. The last thing you needed was her drawing more attention to you.

Ahead, the crowd thickened near a towering automaton display, its gleaming brass limbs performing a mechanical ballet to the delight of onlookers. You gritted your teeth, scanning for a gap, anything to slip through without shoving your way forward. The anonymity Progress Day offered was a double-edged sword—perfect for blending in, but a nightmare when every second counted.

You slipped between two gawking spectators, their laughter grating against your ears as you brushed past. A child darted in front of you, clutching a toy bird that flapped its wooden wings. You sidestepped just in time, your heart racing as you narrowly avoided knocking them over. The mother shot you a wary glance, her hand tightening on the child’s shoulder as she pulled them away from you.

That glance stung more than you’d like to admit, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Jinx was somewhere out there, and something was wrong.

Your falcon screeched again, louder this time, and you couldn’t help but glance up. She was circling tighter now, her movements frantic, as if urging you to move faster.

“I know, sweet pea,” you muttered under your breath, your voice barely audible over the clamour around you. Your fingers itched to do something—spark a current, clear a path, anything—but that would only draw eyes to you. You couldn’t risk it.

Not until you found her.

You quickened your pace, your movements fluid as you wove through the crowd. The sticky remnants of the pastry clung to your fingers, forgotten, as the urgency in your chest grew heavier with every step. Sorry Bluejay, I owe you one. You kept your head down, your breaths shallow, every nerve on edge as you closed the distance.

Somewhere in the city’s maze of streets and alleys, she was waiting. And you wouldn’t stop until you reached her.

The further you moved from the festival’s epicenter, the air shifted, growing cooler and quieter. The cacophony of laughter, music, and sales pitches dulled into a distant hum, like a fading memory. You kept your pace brisk but not hurried, eyes scanning every alley and shadow for signs of trouble.

This part of Piltover, on the fringes of the Progress Day celebration, was practically deserted. Banners fluttered lazily overhead, their vibrant colours muted in the dimming light, and the scent of roasted nuts and sweets thinned, replaced by the faint tang of salt from the harbour. The cobblestone streets underfoot felt uneven, and less polished, as if the city’s shine didn’t quite reach this far.

The shipyard loomed ahead, its silhouette jagged and imposing against the horizon. Tall masts and metallic scaffolding stood like sentinels, their shadows stretching long and dark. A faint tension buzzed in the air, something too subtle for most to notice but unmistakable to you.

Then you heard it.

Bang.

The sharp crack of a gunshot echoed across the empty yard, slicing through the quiet. Your heart jolted, and before you could process it, another shot followed, then another—rapid, erratic, like thunderclaps in a storm. The sound reverberated through the metal structures, amplifying its intensity, though you doubted it carried far enough to reach the festival crowd.

But out here, where the world had gone eerily still, it was deafening.

Your wings twitched beneath your cloak, your instincts screaming for you to take to the skies and close the distance faster, but you resisted. Drawing attention now, even in this desolate stretch, was too risky. Instead, you quickened your pace, your boots hitting the ground harder, each step echoing your growing urgency.

A scream tore through the air, shrill and desperate. The sound froze you mid-step, a cold weight settling in your chest. You knew that voice.

“Jay,” you whispered, fear threading through the name.

The screeching caw of your falcon pierced the air as she dove ahead, her wings slicing through the shadows like blades. Her presence was a beacon, guiding you toward the source of the chaos.

You rounded the corner of a massive stack of shipping crates, the metallic tang of gunpowder sharp in your nostrils now. The faint glow of flickering lamplight danced along the hulls of the docked ships, their reflections fractured in the water below.

And then you saw her.

The gunfire didn’t stop. It came in bursts, uneven and frantic, each shot like a scream.

Then came the actual scream.

High-pitched and sharp, it tore through the air and lodged itself in your chest. It wasn’t just panic—it was her.

Your pace quickened, every instinct propelling you forward. You rounded the corner of a shipping crate and stopped short.

She stood on the deck of a docked cargo ship, her shoulders hunched and trembling. Her gun—the one she never let out of her sight—was clenched tightly in her hands, the barrel still smoking.

There was no laughter, no sly grin, no sarcastic quip. Just frantic, shaky breaths and wide, wild eyes darting around like she couldn’t tell what was real anymore. Her hair whipped around her in the harbour wind, and her face was streaked with grime, sweat, and tears that carved clean lines through the filth.

Scattered around her were bodies, some crumpled and still, others groaning in pain. The metallic tang of blood mixed with the acrid stench of gunpowder, clinging to your throat like a sickness.

You’d seen her like this before. Episodes like these weren’t new—they had haunted her for as long as you’d known her. Back then, you’d been younger, just learning what it meant to be her anchor. You’d sat with her through sleepless nights and shattering breakdowns, trying to soothe chaos you could barely comprehend. It broke your heart every time.

But no matter how many times you’d helped her through it, seeing her like this never got easier.

“Bluejay,” you sang softly, your voice careful, your heart pounding so loudly it felt like it might burst from your chest.

The sound of your voice snapped her head around. But instead of recognition, there was fear—raw, primal fear—and anger.

She spun toward you, lifting the massive weapon and pointing it at you in one sharp, fluid motion. The sheer size of it dwarfed her trembling frame, but her grip was iron-tight, her fingers dangerously close to the trigger.

“Don’t—don’t come any closer!” she yelled, her voice cracking like glass. Her wide, unseeing eyes locked onto you, her chest heaving like she couldn’t pull in enough air.

“I’ll blow ya to itty-fuckin-bitty bits!” she shrieked, her voice teetering between rage and desperation.

Her hands shook so violently that you almost flinched, but you didn’t stop moving.

“It’s me, Bluejay,” you said, your voice as calm as you could muster. You kept your hands visible, palms out, as you took a careful step forward. “It’s Y/n.”

Her breathing hitched. Her grip faltered, the barrel of the gun dipping slightly. Her gaze flicked over your face, her lips trembling as if trying to form words.

“Birdie?” she whispered, the nickname falling from her lips like a prayer.

You nodded, your heart squeezing at the small, broken voice she used. “It’s me,” you assured her, stepping closer. “You’re okay. You’re safe now.”

Her arms dropped an inch, the gun lowering enough for you to fully see her tear-streaked face. She looked so small, so fragile like a child lost in the middle of a nightmare.

“Vi—” Her voice cracked, and her knees buckled slightly as she shook her head like she was trying to shake loose the chaos in her mind. “She wouldn’t shut up! They— They wouldn’t stop! They said I was—” Her voice broke entirely, her words tumbling out in a messy, disjointed rush. “I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean—”

Her words splintered apart, her thoughts shattering faster than she could hold them together.

You stepped closer until you were right in front of her, the barrel of the gun nearly brushing your chest. Slowly, carefully, you reached out and rested a hand on the weapon, gently guiding it down.

“Bluejay, look at me,” you said firmly, your voice steady but laced with warmth. “You’re okay. Whatever happened, I’m here now. I’ll protect you. Just like always.”

Her lip quivered, and for a moment, her wide, tear-filled eyes searched your face. Then the gun clattered to the deck with a metallic thud as she let it slip from her hands.

You didn’t hesitate. You closed the gap and wrapped your arms around her, pulling her trembling form against you. She collapsed into you, her knees giving out as she clung to you like a lifeline, her fingers tangling in the fabric of your cloak.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, stroking her hair as her body shook with silent sobs. Your own throat tightened, but your voice stayed steady. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

The chaos around you blurred, fading into nothing but white noise. All that mattered was Jinx in your arms, her breath hot and ragged against your shoulder, and the quiet, desperate promise you made to her with every heartbeat.

For now, that was enough.

But the peace shattered as sharp shuffles of boots echoed across the dock. Angry voices followed, low and bitter, cutting through the thick harbour air.

“What the hell is wrong with her?!” one of the crew barked, his voice raw and wet with pain, clutching his bloodied side. His fingers dug into torn fabric, crimson dripping between them and staining the dock below. “You think this is a game?! She’s gonna get us all killed!”

“Useless,” another spat, his voice sharp as broken glass. His glare cut through the dim light, landing on Jinx like a predator circling wounded prey. “Always doing this shit! What good is she if—”

Jinx stiffened against you, her shallow breaths hitching sharply, each inhale sharp and jagged as shattered glass. Her trembling form grew rigid, her knuckles white as she balled her fists. The air around her felt heavy, charged, her anger flickering to life like a spark in dry timber.

“I’ll show you useless!” she snarled, her voice raw and splintering as she lunged toward the crew. Her face twisted into a storm of fury and fear, cheeks flushed, her wide eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“Jay,” you murmured, your tone cutting through the crackling tension like a blade. Firm, soothing, and edged with unyielding control. Your arms tightened around her, holding her back with an ease that belied the strength it took to still her wild energy. “They’ll get what’s coming.”

She struggled, her body writhing against yours like a coiled spring, but you didn’t let go. Her breaths came in short, shallow bursts, the sound raw and ragged in your ears. You leaned in, pressing your forehead gently to hers, forcing her gaze to meet yours.

“I've got it covered, Bluejay,” you whispered, your voice soft and steady, cutting through the storm in her chest. “They’re not worth your precious wonderful time.”

For a moment, the fire in her eyes flickered, the embers dulled by the weight of your presence. Her lip trembled, and her breath hitched again, less sharp, more uneven. Slowly, you felt the tension in her muscles loosen, though not completely fade.

But the crew, blind to the tempest brewing around them, kept going.

“She’s a damn liability!” one snarled, their voice dripping venom. “We don’t need her screwing up every—”

A sharp crack split the air, the wood beneath them splintering as electricity struck like a viper. The faint, acrid smell of scorched wood and ozone burned at your nostrils, mingling with the salt of the harbour breeze. Sparks danced at your fingertips, painting jagged, dancing shadows across the blood-streaked dock.

“You’re fucking crazy, watch it!” one of them yelled, their voice faltering under the weight of their own fear.

You stepped forward slowly, each step deliberate, the faint buzz of electricity humming around you like a storm building at sea. Your voice dripped venom, sickly sweet and suffocating as honey left too long in the sun.

“Did you forget who’s been cleaning up after your pathetic mistakes?” you asked, each word curling like smoke around their ears. “Who’s been saving your asses every time you screw up a job? Oh, wait.” You tilted your head, a mocking smile tugging at your lips. “That’s right. The ‘crazy ones’."

The crew shrank back, their earlier bravado dissolving under the weight of your words. Their faces twisted with unease, the fear in their eyes glinting like shards of broken glass under the dim, wavering lantern light.

“Let me remind you,” you continued, your voice a sharpened blade, “that without her getting to everyone first, you’d all be corpses by now. So maybe, just maybe , you should be grateful you’re alive to complain.”

One of them opened their mouth, a flicker of defiance flashing across their face, but you raised your hand again. Sparks leaped to life, sharp and bright in the darkness, casting flickering shadows that danced across their faces like wraiths.

“Not another word,” you cooed, your voice soft and poisonous. “Unless you’d like me to show you what it feels like to be really worthless.”

The crackling air hummed with unspoken tension as silence descended, broken only by the faint, uneven rhythm of Jinx’s breathing behind you. Her trembling form leaned into your back, her fingers clutching the fabric of your cloak like it was the only thing tethering her to the world.

Before the tension could snap further, the distant shouting of enforcers broke through the air. Their sharp, barked orders rang out like cracks of a whip, growing louder with every second. Beams of harsh, unforgiving searchlights swept across the docks, their light cutting through the murky night and scattering shadows in their wake.

You turned sharply, your gaze narrowing like the edge of a dagger. “We’re leaving,” you said coldly, the finality in your tone slicing through the rising panic like steel.

To the crew, you added, your voice dripping with the sweetest of venom, “Try not to get caught. Because if you do…” Your smile sharpened into something deadly. “…I’ll kill you myself.”

Without another glance, you turned back to Jinx, gathering her into your arms. Her head rested against your chest, her uneven breaths brushing warm against your skin. Her small frame trembled like a fragile bird caught in a storm.

The growing shouts of the enforcers spurred you into motion. You broke into a sprint, your boots pounding against the dock, each step echoing like a gunshot before you leaped into the air. Your wings unfurled with a sharp, commanding snap, catching the cold harbour wind and propelling you upward.

The air bit at your skin, the sharp tang of salt and smoke mingling in your lungs. The faint, distorted echo of festival music drifted on the breeze, growing fainter as you ascended. Below, the shouts and clatter of enforcers dulled with each beat of your wings, swallowed by the dark sprawl of the city.

“Hold on, Bluejay,” you murmured, your voice softer now, stripped of its earlier bite.

Jinx clung to you weakly, her trembling fingers gripping the fabric of your cloak as if it were her last anchor. Her breath was hot and uneven against your neck, her body curled into yours with a fragile, childlike vulnerability.

You tightened your hold, soaring higher into the night. The glittering festival lights faded into specks below, swallowed by the jagged edges of the city’s darkness.

For now, the only thing that mattered was getting her somewhere safe.

The noise was impossible to miss.

The air inside The Last Drop was thick, heavy with the pungent mix of sweat, alcohol, and something sharper—the metallic bite of shimmer, sharp enough to catch in your throat. The crowd pulsed with frenetic energy, a relentless hum of voices blending together, their laughter too loud, their words too fast, a chaotic blur that rang through the dimly lit space. The floor trembled beneath the thrum of bass from the jukebox, deep and vibrating, a constant undercurrent to the clinking of glasses, the slurred conversations, and the heat—an oppressive, wet heat that soaked into your skin, a heat that clung to your hair and stuck to the back of your neck.

You didn’t mind it. You were used to this. The noise, the crowd, the chaos—it had always been a part of your world. You’d learned to carve out little spaces of quiet, little bubbles where you could retreat from the noise, even in the most crowded rooms. Your fingers tapped idly on the edge of your glass, the sound of the condensation trickling down the sides almost lost in the ruckus. The glass was half-empty, a dull reflection of the mood that buzzed through you—too much, too fast, and yet never enough. You let the noise wash over you, the calls, the laughs, the heat of their presence pressing against you like an extra layer of skin.

Your smile was small, but it felt wrong, like an echo of something that used to mean something to you, but no longer did. It didn’t feel like it fit the moment, but you kept it there, polished and practiced, the same smile you’d perfected over years of playing a part.

You were the one they all watched—beautiful, yes, but it wasn’t just that. It was the way they felt the pull of you, the way your power hummed beneath your skin, crackling like electricity just waiting to surge. Like bees drawn to honey, the crew and patrons swarmed around you, though most were too oblivious to realize it. They didn’t see that they were all just following orders, buzzing mindlessly through their routines, desperate to get closer to you. To take a little bit of what you had, to touch what they couldn’t reach.

As a child, the looks started off small—glances that lingered a little too long, just enough to leave a prickling sensation along your spine. And then there were the others—the more blatant stares, the open admiration that felt less like appreciation and more like an invitation to possess . They didn’t know it, but they weren’t seeing you . They were seeing something they wanted—a piece of the power that made your very presence dangerous.

You shifted in your seat, your hand brushing against the cool surface of the bar, and let your eyes sweep over the room again. A man—a stranger—was inching closer, slipping into the seat next to yours with that practiced, insincere confidence you had seen too many times before. His eyes didn’t meet yours; they moved over you like you were something to be catalogued, a thing to be desired, a game to be won.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked, his voice far too smooth, too rehearsed. It wasn’t about the drink, not really. You knew that. You could hear it in the way his words came out, smooth but heavy with intent, the faintest trace of desperation hanging just below the surface. He was trying to draw you in, to make it seem like he was offering you something when, in truth, he was just hoping for something in return.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you let the silence settle between you, and when you finally turned your head, your smile never wavered. It was perfect—polite, cool, a mask you had worn for so long it almost felt natural now. But underneath it, you let the smallest hint of disdain curl in your eyes as you reached for the drink. Your fingers brushed the glass slowly, deliberately, holding his gaze as you did.

“On the house, huh?” you asked softly, the words drawing out, almost teasing. You took a sip, letting the cold liquid slide over your tongue, the ice cubes clinking softly in the glass. "That’s sweet of you."

The man’s smile faltered for just a moment—only for a split second, but you noticed. You always noticed. His hand lingered on the bar, just a fraction of a second too long, and you could feel the weight of his gaze, how he wanted to take more than just your attention. He wanted to claim you. But you were too sharp to let that happen.

You leaned in just slightly, your voice low, soft—but sharp enough to cut through the murmur of the room. “But I’m not interested.”

The man stiffened, his grin faltering entirely. For a second, there was an almost imperceptible shift in his expression, something between frustration and confusion. But he didn’t give up. They never did. They’d try again, maybe with different words, maybe with different promises. But the game would always be the same.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” he muttered, and there it was—the line, the one they always crossed. “A couple of … things came to mind when I saw those wings of yours.” They thought they had you figured out, that you were just another pretty face, just another prize to claim. But they never realized the truth—they never saw the real you, just a reflection of their ideals.

Your eyes darkened as you leaned back in your seat, the glass in your hand tight enough to make your fingers ache. The words you spoke were soft, but they carried weight.

“Maybe I do,” you said. “Maybe you’re not as interesting as you think.”

The man’s face reddened, his words swallowed up by the thrumming noise around you. He muttered something unintelligible before standing and backing away, vanishing back into the crowd.

You let out a slow breath, the tension easing from your shoulders as you turned your gaze back to your drink. The amber liquid wobbled gently, catching the dim light in fractured reflections, but it didn’t hold your attention for long. It never did. The weight in your chest was harder to shake, a hollow ache that no amount of noise or drink could fill.

The game always ended the same way, with you sitting here, staring at the untouched drink like it held answers you’d never find. You didn’t know why it left you feeling like this—like a puppet with its strings cut, empty and slack after the show was over. The glass was cool beneath your fingertips, but your skin felt too warm, prickling with the phantom press of their stares.

What do they really want from me?

The thought slipped through your mind, bitter and sharp like the burn of strong liquor. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. You’d been asking yourself that question for as long as you could remember.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the hum of the room fade into the background. Flashes of faces blurred behind your eyelids, half-formed memories of people reaching for you, their hands outstretched, their smiles too wide, too eager. They’d always wanted something—a piece of you, a piece of your power.

But love? That was different. Love was supposed to be soft, wasn’t it? Gentle. It wasn’t supposed to come with strings attached or sharp edges hidden behind kind words. You’d seen it before, a long time ago, in a life so far removed it felt like it belonged to someone else.

You tried to picture their faces—the ones you’d called family. You tried to remember the way their hands felt, the warmth in their eyes, the way they laughed. But all you saw were smudges, shapes that shifted and blurred, fading like smoke on a breeze. The details were gone, slipping through your grasp every time you reached for them, leaving only the faintest impression of what once was.

Your fingers tightened around the glass.

You thought of love as something distant now, like a language you’d once spoken fluently but had long since forgotten. The meaning was there, buried somewhere deep, but the words never came out right. All that remained was the idea of it—bright and fleeting, like the glow of fireflies you’d chased in the forests of Ixtal as a child.

A faint, sharp laugh rang out nearby, pulling you back into the present. Your eyes opened, and the bar came rushing back—the noise, the heat, the press of bodies. It was all too much, and yet it felt like nothing at all.

Love wasn’t real here, not in places like this. Not in the way it should’ve been.

And yet.

And yet, there was one face that cut through the haze. One voice that could pull you back when everything else felt like too much.

“Hey, stranger,” a familiar voice called from across the room, light and sing-song, the words laced with just enough chaos to make the air buzz.

Her.

You turned your head toward her, and there she was, weaving her way through the crowd, her braids bouncing with every step, her grin wide enough to split the world in two.

Your chest tightened. You didn’t know if it was the kind of feeling you’d been searching for or just another sharp edge to swallow, but when she was near, the hollow ache didn’t seem quite as deep. For a little while, at least, you could forget the faces you couldn’t remember and the love you’d forgotten how to understand.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

a/n: hi lovelies thank you so much for your patience <33 updates are gonna be a bit slower this time around since school and work sorry <3

taglist: @deathvidal , @stupendousbananasharkcop , @titusmouser , @itosh1teru , @0sunnyside0 , @pulcen , @chuucanchuucan , @fluffygreatness , @pebble-peddle , @brocoliisscared

#arcane jinx #jinx x reader #arcane x reader #powder arcane #jinx arcane #vi arcane #arcane s2

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lovebugism · 1 year ago

Note

Hi bug!

For the domestic prompts,

#12 with Eddie?

thank u for requesting lovie! hope you like it! — you and eddie are friends with benefits, but he wants something more. you don't realize that you do, too, until he wants to see other people (fwb, idiots in love, angst, mentions of smut 18+, 1.7k)

fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Sticky and still twisted in the sheets, Eddie reaches out for you.

His fingertips dance across the slick skin of your shoulder, just barely. You pull away like you always do — sluggish and dismissive, like it’s instinct to deny yourself of his affection. And even though it isn’t the first time you’ve rejected his softness (not nearly, not even half), it still aches the same.

Eddie laughs it off like he’s always had to. It’s easier that way.

“Wanna go get food, at least?” he asks with a soft chuckle. The color of the boyish sound matches the faint yellow glow of your bedside lamp — golden.

With your eyes still closed, weighed down by the post-sex honey, you shake your head into the pillow. “No, I’m good,” you mumble, then writhe and stretch beneath the blanket like a cat.

Your eyes flutter open in time to catch the pained look on Eddie’s face. His features are blurry with bliss and exhaustion, screwed slightly like he’s flinching from your words.

“I can’t really feel my legs right now, so…” you joke with a quiet smile instead of telling him that no, you can’t go out to eat because that’s basically a date, and that’s not what this is. You think you’ve repeated that spiel enough for a lifetime.

Eddie knows this, but he appreciates that you care enough not to hurt his feelings.

A crooked grin tugs at his swollen pink lips. His pale legs swing over the side of your bed as he reaches for his boxers, left forgotten on the floor with the rest of your clothes. He stands to tug them up his hips again.

“Well, you wouldn’t happen to have any food in the kitchen, would you?” he wonders, glancing at you over his shoulder. His chocolate eyes twinkle when he flashes you a teasing grin. “Something other than chips and mac and cheese, preferably.”

“I think I have some leftover takeout in the fridge,” you answer with an absentmindedness that Eddie’s gotten used to by now. You care about him, but only so much, and not enough to make a big deal about any of it.

“Ah, leftovers,” Eddie repeats with a whimsical sigh. “The epitome of romance.”

You snort a faint laugh and prop your cheek on your fist. “Well, I’d cook for you, but I wouldn’t wanna give you the wrong idea.”

“Hey. C’mon. I’m, like, Feminist Numero Uno, alright? I’d happily be your housewife—” He cuts himself off with a laugh when you reach for a pillow. He flinches when you half-heartedly swat him with it.

“That’s what I’m talking about! We’re not dating, Eddie!” you say with a sweet laugh that only halfway lessens the blow of your words. “You’re not my housewife— you’re not my anything!”

You have to remind him of that a lot. He has these moments, where he wants to get all sweet and cuddly and play boyfriend with you. As far as you’re concerned, the affection is supposed to stop when your clothes are on. That line’s a whole lot blurrier for Eddie.

He doesn’t know when he’s supposed to stop loving you because he loves you all the time.

The stinging returns. There’s a million crackling orange embers in his chest, where he’s pretty sure his heart is supposed to be. You’ve stolen it, though, with no intentions of returning it. Eddie’s happy to let you keep the wretched, bleeding organ of his. He likes that you’re holding it. Even though your nails are digging crescent shapes into the delicate thing.

“Right,” he murmurs, then clears his throat when his voice breaks. “Yeah.”

“Maybe instead of eating my stale leftovers, you call Chrissy and invite her out to dinner?” you offer with an absentminded shrug, turning onto your stomach and kicking your feet up behind you. Your legs poke out from beneath the thin sheet, showing the faintest sliver of your ass.

Eddie takes great care not to look at you. You’re so pretty it hurts — hurts ‘cause he can’t have you.

“I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

Eddie thinks for a moment, then nods. “Yeah. Maybe. ’S probably a better idea, huh?”

This isn’t the first time you’ve teased him about Chrissy. She’s the prettiest waitress at Benny’s Burgers — hell, all of Hawkins, even — and she’s crazy sweet on him. Any other day, he’d argue back and forth with you about it. “She doesn’t like me,” he’d tell you, “She doesn’t even exist to me when you’re around.”

No, this isn’t the first time you’ve brought up Chrissy, but it’s the first time he isn’t detested by the sheer thought of being with anyone other than you.

You falter. Just for a moment. “I mean, duh— all my ideas are better than yours.”

“You really won’t be mad if I take Chrissy on a date?” Eddie asks you, bending at the waist to tug his black ripped jeans over his long, pale legs. His chocolate eyes twinkle with expectancy. He wants so badly for you to say yes.

You won’t humor him with any of that, though.

“‘Course not. We’re not dating, so… I don’t really have a reason to get mad.”

Distantly heartbroken, he nods. “Okay. Good.”

“It might be better, actually,” you confess, trying hard not to stare too long at his happy trail when his milky white hands button his pants. “You know, if we both start seeing other people.”

Eddie freezes. “What? Like— breaking up?”

“Well, there’s no breaking up involved.”

“Right… ‘Cause you’re not my girlfriend.”

The words taste like vinegar leaving his mouth.

They shouldn’t sting you like they do.

You try to smile, anyway. “Exactly. Look at you, Eds— You’re finally getting the hang of it.”

“So, what? I see Chrissy, and you see…?” he trails off, turning away from you to search for the Metallica t-shirt he wore on the way over. He finds it on your bookshelf, likely from where he’d flung it over his shoulder in an attempt to make you laugh.

“I don’t know. I guess, I can see if Steve’s free. He’s usually a reliable fuck.”

Eddie glances at you, doe eyes narrowed. He’s trying to analyze you — to gauge whether or not you’re being genuine or if you’re bringing up your ex to hurt him. Maybe it’s both. It’s sort of what he’s doing to you now, anyway.

He’s only half as genuine as he is angry about the whole thing, but he’ll burn alive before he lets you see how furious it makes him feel.

He scoffs a bitter chuckle and tugs his shirt over his head. “Well, have fun with King Steve, I guess.”

“As long as you have fun with the princess,” you tease with too sweet grin.

“Oh, I’m sure I will.”

That’s all he says — in the place of any real goodbye. Most times, he refuses to leave your apartment until he’s smothered you in a thousand kisses. He hopes the lack of him makes you ache, that you’re grieved by his leaving just as much as he is.

You are, but you won’t let him know it.

You know you won’t have any fun without Eddie. You’re praying he won’t have any fun with Chrissy either — lest he falls for her and her pretty eyes and how kindly she treats him. But fuck, he deserves that. He deserves someone who doesn’t have a physical aversion to affection. He deserves a whole lot more than you.

He should go out to meet Chrissy, but you stop him before he’s got his hand on the rusted doorknob to leave.

“Eds, wait!” you call from the bedroom, plucking his leather jacket from the back of your desk chair and running into the living room with the thin top sheet clutched to your chest.

The boy turns around, eyes as wild as his hair. In a fleeting moment of irrational hope, he thinks you’re about to ask him to stay — to eat your leftovers with him and let him love you. But then he sees the jacket in your fist and tries to ignore the searing knife you’ve plunged into his chest.

“Can’t forget this,” you tease with a glimmer in your eye. “Cheerleaders dig the leather jacket, you know?”

Eddie squints when he takes it from you. His sly, halfway-forced smirk matches your own. “And how would you know that?”

“I don’t. It’s just a feeling.”

“Okay,” Eddie nods as he slides the jacket over his shoulders and arms. “That’s fair, I guess. Thanks for looking out.”

“‘Course,” you shrug, all nonchalant about the whole thing. You’re kissing the breath from his lungs a second later, leaning forward to knock your nose with his and smother his plush pink mouth with your own.

Eddie freezes, shocked by the sudden act of affection.

You were never one for goodbyekisses — “That’s for people who’ve been together for two months or two decades, Eds,” you’d giggle while he’d sprinkle pecks to your nose, mouth, and cheek. “Not for people who only meet up to fuck.”

You’d always been more to him than that, but it hurt you never saw him any different.

But here you are now — kissing him stupid and staining his tongue with your taste before he’s shoving it down Chrissy Cunningham’s throat. You want him to taste you all night. You want him to remember you even when you’re not there. Because god knows this asshole’s gonna be on your mind all night.

You pull back from him after a few long moments, with swollen lips and heavy eyes. You trap your smile between your teeth and wrap your arms around yourself, keeping the sheet bunch up there even though he’s seen you in much, much less.

“Call me later, and let me know how it goes, yeah?”

Eddie, gone sufficiently dumb after being kissed so ardently, just nods for several agonizing seconds. “Yeah. Okay. Sure. Whatever,” he babbles with a rosy, freshly kissed mouth.

You turn on your heel and head back to your bedroom. Even when you disappear behind the shut door, Eddie stands in place — like he’s waiting for you to come back out and do the charade all over again.

The shower faucet hisses faintly. It knocks him from his daze, tells him he’d better take the pieces of you when he can get them instead of constantly sitting in wait for them.

On his way home, he tries to remember Chrissy Cunningham’s phone number. He knows there’s a six in the beginning, a three somewhere in the middle, and two sevens towards the end.

He can’t think straight anymore.

You’re on his mind, on his mouth, and on his fingers.

There’s no use in thinking about anything but you.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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thecapricunt1616 · 8 months ago

Text

Cherry (Richie Jerimovich one-shot)

♡ One-Shot Inspo: Cherry juice is considered an elixir of immortality most often associated with the feminine aspects of beauty, sexuality and procreation. ♡ Summary: Richie has a hard time telling Tiff about his new GF ♡ W/C: 3.0k ♡ A/N: EEEEK I hope you all like Pt. 2 of Pink Pony Club!! Sorry there's no smut but if y'all really want a pt. 3 LMK!!! heheh, hope you enjoy! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Agegap!Relationship, Angst, Swearing, Smoking Read Part 1 ♡Here♡

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

Richie still hadn’t told Tiffany about you. It wasn’t that he was avoiding her, as he was picking Eva up at school on Friday evening and dropping her back off on his weekends on Monday morning. Alright, maybe he was avoiding her. That was because, on his time off, you were glued to his side, he wasn’t complaining, he loved having you around. He actually was the one who assured you stayed glued to his side whenever he got out of work, he made his way to the Pink Pony and picked you up - then headed back to his.

You had met Eva at the beginning of the month, easy to say that she fell in love with you at first sight. Your jingly dangly jewelry, the pink streaks in your hair, the colorful and whimsical tattoos you had, she told Richie “Daddy, she reminds me of a carebear!” the first time you’d met which earned a giggle and an honest thank you out of you. She was such a bright, funny little girl. She was also very sweet, and knew how to get what she wanted out of her dad which you highly respected.

He had told you about Thanksgiving friends and family night at The Bear about 2 weeks prior to when it would happen. If he was being honest with himself he thought it would be a shot in the dark that you would even say yes and want to go, but to his earnest surprise - you were over the moon excited and told him you were honored that he’d asked, and gushed about picking an outfit and how you would do your hair. This made him both excited and fucking nervous because this meant he would need to really figure out what he was going to say to Tiff when you show up.

He knew that Eva probably had said something to her, considering how she couldn’t stop asking you questions when she was in your presence and complimenting your accessories and makeup - which probably meant she was gushing about you to her mom since if the girl had one hobby it was excessive talking. She probably got that from him, that was what you always teased. But now that the day had finally arrived, he was nervous that everything would truthfully go to shit, and that he would be left with yet another huge mess that he has to clean up by himself.

When he woke though, to hearing giggles in the kitchen and the smell of coffee, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. He had never had the pleasure of waking up in an apartment that felt like home, but since you came around you had made that a reality for him and it was one of the things that he loved most about you. He sat up, rubbing his face before standing to stretch his tight back, and pads out to the kitchen to see you demonstrating to Eva how you stain your lips and cheeks with cherry juice. She was sat on the counter and you were stood in front of her showing her how.

“See so you bite, these ones are nice and juicy so they give great lipstick” you bite the tip of the cherry “Then you rub it where you want it, but don't forget to dab it in or you’ll look like Bobo the clown” you joke and she giggled, copying you and rubbing the juice on her lips and cheeks. “Beeautiful darling!” you said in an exaggerated french accent causing her to laugh even more.

“Lipstick huh?” Richie comes up and hugs you from behind, taking the cherry from between your fingers and rubbing some on his lips “how does daddy look mm?” He makes a kissy face

“Beautiful daddy!” Eva tried her best to copy your previous accent “pixie promised she’d let me wear real lipgloss to dinner, right pixie stick?” She said and you gasp playfully, poking her belly

“No! I said if daddy says that it’s ok, I will let you wear my clear lipgloss.” You told her and gave Richie a sweet peck before turning and grabbing one of the old mugs from The Beef and pour some steaming black coffee in it before handing it over to him.

“Well if it’s clear then I guess It should be ok, thank you sweets” he took the cup gratefully and kissed the top of your head before sitting at the table with one of his little old man sighs. “She eat?” He asks and you nod.

“Of course- she had toast and eggs. I didn’t wanna wake you she was up around 5, she’s an early bird. Hey Eva, how about we go get your shower all done so you can play until it’s time to get ready, do you want me to help you get it set up?” You asked and she nods

“Can I use your pretty soap?” She asked and you giggle a bit, lifting her off the counter on to your hip and carrying her to the bathroom

“Of course little princess, you can even use my special sugar scrub that matches mm?” You set her down on the floor carefully and started the shower for her, grabbing her a towel from the linen closet, and play clothes from her bedroom and setting it down on the bathroom counter. You made sure to check the temperature for her to assure it wasn’t too hot before ruffling her hair playfully “call daddy if you need help ok?” You remind her and she agrees with a hum as you shut the door behind you.

“Y’good at the whole step mom thing” Richie says from the couch where he was now watching the news. You smiled a bit, walking over and taking his cup, setting it on the coffee table before straddling his lap and wrapping your arms loosely around the back of his neck.

“Am I?” You gently rubbed the spiky short hair at the back of his neck and he rested his face in the crook of your neck, kissing the skin there gently.

“Y’good for er’, really good.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around your back and hands trailing down to squeeze your ass in your little black sofee shorts he loved so much.

“You’re a sweetheart. Makes sense how she’s such a sweet little girl” you kiss his temple gently. “Is her mom still coming?” You asked. You weren’t nervous, you’d had boyfriends before where their ex wives didn’t like you, although this was your first rodeo with an ex-babymom so it would you assume be a bit different.

“She is…” he said softly, in the way that let you know his mind was definitely somewhere else. Richie wasn’t soft, he wasn’t gentle. He if anything navigated his life something akin to how a bull would navigate a fine china shop.

“You’re nervous baby, why.” You rub his shoulder gently and he shrugs a bit.

“Eva’s been happy lately and Tiff…she has a tendency to freak out. I just…our custody agreement. I worry that she would use it against me if she doesn’t like who I’m dating and you’re the first girl I’ve gone steady with since the divorce.” He tugged your hips closer to his and you settled comfortably over him.

“And you aren’t on drugs, you’re mentally stable, you have a nice apartment, you have a car. You are in a loving relationship, anyone around us can contest to how much we love eachother right baby?” You gently kiss over his face in the way that made him smile and blush, his pretty eyes fluttering shut. He always reminded you of a teenager when he did that.

“Yeah, yeah. But guys aren’t favored as highly in the family court and all that bullshit. I know we’re both providing a fuckin stable loving home er whatever they call it. An’ she loves you, and you love her, and we’re one big fuckin happy family - but tiff can go and rip that up and just say- just-“ he sighed as you kiss the sweet spot on his neck, losing his train of thought.

“What. That I’m a whore? I can show them my real estate portfolio. I own half of the club, they can’t prove I dance, baby.” You cup his cheek and plant a gentle kiss on his lips as you heard the water cut. “Eva is almost 10, baby. Shes gonna legally have her opinion soon enough on who she can live with. We just have to stick it through, yeah?” You kiss his forehead and he sighed, nuzzling his face between your breasts and breathing in your perfume.

“Promise” he hummed into your skin and planted a sweet kiss on the skin as Eva loudly calls

“DADDY!!! PIXIE FORGOT MY PANTIES I NEED PANTIES CLOSE YOUR EYES!!” At the top of her little lungs, causing you both to laugh. You got up, padding to her bedroom and grabbing a pair with Bluey on them and going back, knocking on the door gently

“Sorry! Sorry pipsqueak! My eyes are closed daddy’s eyes are closed I got your panties can I chuck em’ to ya?” You giggled amusedly, covering your eyes with your hand and Richie does the same, chuckling to himself as he blindly sips his coffee.

“Pixie! I can’t believe you forgot my PANTIES!” She squeaks dramatically, quickly opening the door, ripping the panties out of your hand and shutting the door quickly once again, clicking the lock which makes you giggle even harder at the thought a 7 year old needed ‘privacy’

“I know! Worst best friend ever EJ” you teased, a name only you gave her and she loved it. She said other girls in her grade didn’t have ‘letter names’ but the boys did, so she liked that she had a letter nickname.

You sat back on the couch, shaking your head as you sip your morning smoothie “that one is a little you, a little girl Richard” you teased with a smirk and he nudged you with his knee jokingly.

“Y’know she uh…” he rubs his nose “she asked t’be called EJ at school. Her ma was askin’ why. Another reason why I’m uh…nervous I guess” he admits, staring into his cup of black now lukewarm coffee as the weatherman goes on about todays high would be 42 and raining all day long.

“She did” you look into your cup of ice coffee, the dribbles of condensation running down the glass. You swallowed thickly her mother likely didn’t approve. To which he confirmed that theory by explaining

“Tiff asked if i was uh…” he chuckled “with all that woke non-binary shit. And that I was turning her into a tomboy and that it’s uh..not what it was when we were young. And that girls have to be girls, now. So..she got all pissed and said we gotta get her outta that.” He said and you swallow thickly. You had trans and nonbinary friends, so the thought of his ex wife not being accepting was a stab to the gut. And you knew her biases were strong if she was simply hounding on a name? You knew that she was not an accepting person.

“Wow…uh…no she can have any name she wants, honey. I know you believe that cause’a’how your dad controlled you. Tell me you won’t force her to be who her mom wants her to be” you look him square in the eye. He swallows thickly, nodding simply and taking your hand, squeezing it gently as Eva comes out of the bathroom.

“Nice to have panties pixie stick!” She chides, causing you to giggle.

“A tiny Richard” you said gently and poked his cheek gently. It was a day of playing, and giggling, and reading books- until it was finally time to get ready for the night out. Richie put on his black work suit per usual, a handsome tie that you knew he’d be using to tie your wrists behind your back later when Tiff took Eva for her week long stint.

You wore a babydoll, long sleeve dress, it was cream colored. It was also adorned with sage green floral patterns, and had puffy sleeves. You wore a beautiful sage bow, tying back your hair and simple makeup. Eva and you were wearing matching lipgloss, which by her attitude gave her all the attitude and confidence in the world. “Let’s do our affirmations, EJ” you told her, gently stroking her little arms and meeting her gaze in the mirror. She smiled proudly and nodded

“I am beautiful, I am smart, I am strong, I am worthy, I am capable, I am able to do hard things, I am creative, and I lead my life with love and kindness” she repeats your mantra, while looking herself in the eyes and you smile proudly.

“That’s right pretty girl, my pretty capable smart worthy kind girl” you kiss the top of her head proudly. “Now, do you want…” you dig around your purse and pull out the travel size Marc Jacob’s perfume you got for her with a kind smile “a fancy girl perfume?” You ask her and she gasped like you’d hung the moon on a string, taking it from you and looking at it closely.

“Pixie!!” She said excitedly, spritzing it on her wrist and neck like she’d seen you do so many times before and dabbing her wrist to her neck to dry them down. “I smell like a lady! A real fancy lady!!” She said excitedly and jumps up and down in her little Mary Jane heels she had begged Richie to buy her. You laughed a bit, nodding happily and adjusting the little curls you’d made in her hair with a hot curing iron.

“A real fancy lady” you repeated happily. “Go show dad!” You urged as you finished putting your earrings on and she clopped off. You hear Richie gasp and her squeal as she was picked up and kissed all over her face

“Who’s this prettiest girl? Mm?” He joked, holding her like a koala as he went back to the bathroom and stood behind you.

“Pixie is prettiest” she said and patted your hair, causing your cheeks to rush with heat. When you got to the restaurant, you were ushered to your table with you on one side and Eva next to you, and an empty seat sitting directly across from you. You assumed that was Eva’s moms seat, you ended up being right.

“So this is uh… my girl, Tiff.” Your head popped up, standing and extending your hand

“Nice to meet you! Tiffany, right? You have a beautiful girl, and so smart!” You gush, hoping to land a good impression. She looked you up and down judgmentally, eying the shortness of your skirt and the low bejewled cut of your shirt, before grabbing your hand carefully like you had some kind of sickness, dropping it before turning back to Richie with a unreadable look on her face.

“Back porch!” She ordered and walked off with her glass of wine, the back door closing behind her with a slam that made you wince. He apologizes to you with his eyes, patting your bum as he headed out behind her.

By the time he came back with her at his side, everyone had been sat for dinner, and your and Eva’s head popped up, staring at them. “All set honey” Richie said cooly, kissing the top of your head as he made his way back to the host’s stand, cracking his knuckles nervously and standing straight ahead.

“Mommy, Did you see Pixie sticks pretty Carebear tattoo?” she asked hopefully with a big smile, and you nudged your foot with hers gently, giving her a warning look and she looked back into her kids order of mac and cheese without another word.

“Carebear, Hmm? How old are you?” She snips

“Old enough!” you snap back with an all too polite smile. “Plenty old enough, actually. I appreciate the concern, though honey” the rest of the meal was done so in silence, until it was time for dessert, when Eva asked

“Whats tir- tira-”

“Tiramisu?” you smiled kindly, “it’s a coffee flavored italian dessert, do you like coffee?” you asked and Tiff scoffs

“Shes seven, should she like coffee?” she asked in an annoyed tone. You held back from rolling your eyes and shrugged,

“She likes, what she likes” you gave a poker face like smile and continue eying the menu even though you knew exactly what you wanted. By the end of the night, Eva was nearly falling asleep in her seat on your shoulder, cuddling your arm. Tiffany was more then happy to scoop her up in her arms when it was time to go home, giving you a glare. She didn’t even say goodbye to Richie, he had to chase her down when she was buckling Eva into her seat.

“Tiff- Tiffany!” He jogged up to her car and she scoffed in a disgusted tone.

“What. What?! do you fuckin want-“ she snaps, closing Eva’s door a little too hard that caused her to wake a bit startled and pay attention to what they were saying.

“What?” He asked, holding Eva’s backpack that she forgot on his arm and she frowned, snatching it from him and throwing it in the passenger side of the car

“Go sleep with your new high schooler. You fucking perv” she hissed, shoving past him to get to the drivers side and slamming the drivers door. You had come out just as he watched her peel away, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, unsure what to do other than just watch.

“Hey sweetheart” you hug him from behind, kissing the back of his neck.

“W’never gonna get along.” He muttered

Fin

#richie jerimovich imagine #richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich smut #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich blurb #richie jerimovich fanfiction #richie jerimovich fluff #richie jerimovich angst #the bear fx #the bear fic #the bear hulu #richie jerimovich fic #richie jerimovich drabble

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lovely-oh-so-lovelyyui · 2 months ago

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Toxic till the End DL AU PT 1

I am not someone who knows much about K-Pop. I've really liked the new Rosé stuff though especially her album rosie? In further pondering I can’t help but want to point out how perfect of a face cast it would make for Yui Komori.

Like the make up style is exactly what I envision from Yui, not too bold but blush heavy shiny, youthful makeup. With the douyin type lip gloss AND her ringlets were absolutely perfect. Like tell me that’s not Yui.

So obviously with the singles roll out, I think the last one was “toxic till the end” and it’s such a nostalgic pop sound I missed and the cinematography is everything in the video so I just wanted to write some Human/Idol AU diabolik lovers headcanons based off it. It has been a while since i’ve written anything so bare with me pls. Love u xoxo

I added more disclaimers whilst I was writing this but I have something planned for the other brothers too and something from Ayato’s pov so if this looks a bit unfinished trust there’s more. Lemme know which brothers you want because this AU has ran away from me and become literally massive

So in the human au I’d still say Yui is raised in a church, but she’s super cute right so she gets street recruited by a company and she’s not like a major super popstar but since she was a teenager she does little commercials, dance trends, magazine shoots

She grows quite famous online for her innocent, kind of whimsical, head in the clouds imagery alongside her very pious upbringing I suppose like how Adriana Lima used to say before she was a VS angel she wanted to be a nun.

She used to be in her church choir and eventually her company moves her from just modelling/trainee to being put together with some girls in an idol group.

It doesn’t work out, idk maybe the company doesn’t think there’s enough chemistry within the group dynamics or it didn’t rake in enough money. Anyways Sakamaki Corporations ( see what I did) tell Yui they consider sending her to an Idol Show for more popularity because they think she has potential as a soloist

Uhhhh this is the bit where you can tell all my idol knowledge is completely made-up and from vague conversations with my friends.

I believe sometimes idols are sent abroad? Or maybe sent to accommodations to be kept safe and hidden while they train. So she’s sent to “Sakamaki Mansion” because of her father and the CEO of Sakamaki Corps. were old friends or at least that’s what she’s told.

I don’t want to make the boys live with her…but I’m cooking here #trust

She goes to the same school as them. I think that can stay the same, especially because it’s a night school for idols.

Ciao.

Anyways this is where I think we can insert the toxic till the end music video.

I'm also aging them up so Yui meets Ayato on the precipice of 18 because they plan for her to debut at 18/19.

I will also be incorporating some of the visuals from the actual video

So Yui in her last couple of teenage years is driving (in my country you can drive at 17 don’t question it) back from school to her mansion, where she sees this scrawny boy on the side of the road, with a gym bag swung over his shoulder and a broken bike at his side. She slows down because of his hair.

Yes Ayato is one of the most handsome men she’s ever seen in her life but his hair is in a buzz and it's pink!! And she loves the colour pink!

(again visuals people do you see my vision)

So obviously she says yes and brings him home with her, like this is a little miss romantic and Ayato is her peter pan almost. All her life is routine and lessons and he creeps in all mischief and cheshire cat smirks and she’s smitten.

Ayato is obviously enamoured with her, she’s just so cute and she sincerely seems to care about him. And they make a good pair like the perfect young love.

Ayato with his buzz, scruffy uniform and bad boy reputation who goes everywhere on his skateboard but keeps his hand in the backpocket of his sweet, bubbly church choir/idol trainee gf. They’re a vision to see.

At first he’s quite secretive and he explains to her his family is quite dysfunctional and messed up. Even though they go to the same school he sets up rules like they’re not allowed to ever talk to each other in school and she should absolutely never talk to his brothers and they can’t go on public dates.

At first my little romantic (her rose-tinted glasses paired with actual rose coloured eyes mean all those red flags look like big love hearts) Yui is quite miffed because this is her first ever boyfriend and she really loves him and he’s soooooo charming to her. But it works out quite well because she gets to keep her good student, scandal free rap sheet. And her bf

She knows how fucked up his home life is so sometimes he’ll run away and come live with her and it’s literally a dream for her. It’s so domestic, they have picnic dates in the rose gardens, they swim together in the lake and cuddle up together on warm summer nights whilst gazing at the stars.

Ayato loves holding her hands, kissing her and he always seems to be wanting to touch her in some way or the other. They cook together, or she’s baking something because he keeps getting her to cheat on her diet, convincing her they’ll burn the calories in a different way. And sometimes after school they’ll meet up in the woods to walk home wrapped up in each other and he teaches her all kinds of things, from smoking and drinking to stealing her first kiss. He carries her around like she’s nothing, and he can be so romantic to an annoying teenage boy but she doesn’t care because she’s never been this carefree. He gives her Tiffany rings, and other expensive gifts, dresses her in his clothes, and doesn't want anything from her but her staying beside him. For her first ever exposure to love this is peak romance, his promises of her successful debut and him becoming an athlete where he’s successful enough to openly tell everyone to back off because that’s his girl.

It's a random Thursday where he’s staying over and Yui has fresh flowers and candles lit all over the house. It’s just been a good week, she’s a little tired from practice but Ayato has been an absolute darling. Massaging her legs (it turns into him groping her whilst she giggles trying to get away), he brought some fast food, made an absolute fool of himself falling into the pond and finding out she can’t swim.

So they spent an afternoon where she basically clung onto his shoulders and him wrapping his hands around her waist, whispering into her ears and then he’s teasing her for how red she is. It’s been bliss. They are sat by the fire, he’s in loose sweats and he realises she’s wearing one of his boxers and tanks but it starts raining outside and she flinches at thunder.

I think this is a pivotal moment in their relationships in the warm amber glow, where Yui opens up about being an orphan and hating the thunder because the day her parents left her there was a storm.

Ayato in turn pulls her close, and he’s so close she can feel his breath on her cheeks his hands are around her ears as he’s slowly caressing her cheek telling her she’s fine and he’s here for him. This is her “oh. Oh.” moment because she’s so in love with this boy and she knows it’s him or nothing.

And she can see it in his eyes when he starts opening up about his bruises and how sometimes he lies about them being from skateboarding accidents. When they tell this story much much later everyone assumes Ayato kisses her. What they don’t know is all Yui knew in that moment is that she never wanted to see her beautiful boyfriend so sad again so she leans in to initiate their first kiss.

That's history…or the beginning of the end.

#diabolik lovers #diahell #yui komori #reiji sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #shu sakamaki #laito sakamaki #dialovers #diabolik lovers headcanons #dl headcanons #dl fanfiction #komori yui #sakamaki ayato #ayayui #human au #idol au #Spotify

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 10 months ago

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🧁 cupcake analysis 🧁

YES, YOU READ THAT CORRECTLY 🤡 I’m still fixated on the cute character-themed cupcakes we got from the recent TsumTsums x TWST collab… so I’m going to talk about more things I noticed in the cupcake designs by dorm + by individual characters!

Mmm, cupcakes… 🧁 I would make these if only I had the tools to make all of the painstaking little details—

Heartslabyul

They all have checkered cupcake liners with a half-painted white rose. Famous Heartslabyul iconography!

Their names are written out in a white cursive font. Not the wackiest they could have gone with, but it fits the whimsical style of these cupcakes.

Riddle

Of course, we have strawberries—a fruit from Riddle’s favorite dessert, his beloved strawberry tarts (which also have personal significance to him, being as it was a strawberry tart’s taste that entranced him and made him late to return home as a child). The ring of frosting piped around the strawberries kind of creates the illusion of a tart’s puff pastry with the fruit nesting inside.

Red frosting made with a piping tip to resemble a big rose! Again, more famous Heartslabyul iconography.

IT HAS RIDDLE’S HEART AHOGE 😭

The cupcake also has the crown and a ribbon similar to the ones he wears in his Dorm Uniform~

Unlike the other Heartslabyul cupcakes, Riddle’s is predominantly one color: red. This could be referring to how Riddle is the most rigid in the dorm and someone who demands uniformity and preaches absolutism (“follow the rules”, “paint all the roses red”, etc.).

Even so! There are still little gold and blue sprinkles (though still in a neat arrangement)! I like to think of them as sprinkles of hope and a willingness to change… the first step he’s taking outside of his comfort zone!

No card; this makes sense since Riddle is also the only one without a card suit mark on his face.

Trey

The cookie iced to look like his hat…

Another cookie iced to look like the three of clubs heart (for obvious reasons)!

Trey’s cupcake looks kinda fuzzy like moss, so that leads me to believe the frosting got dipped in sanding sugar to give it texture or something. This makes the cupcake look like it’s an unassuming shrub—and really, isn’t that what Trey claims to be? He’s not an exciting red rose like Riddle, he’s the mild-mannered “normal” guy there to support the flower as the leaves and shoots.

Sugared violets as a topping! Nice way of incorporating Trey’s favorite food into this.

He has a little dusting of sprinkles too; maybe because it was him that showed Riddle “a whole new world”.

There seems to be a layer of jagged chunks (maybe crushed pistachios) along the rim. Feels quite different than the rest of the cake—maybe it’s to represent the less kind side of himself that Trey sometimes alludes to.

Two cookie sticks, which remind me of like two spears crossing to block off a path to the queen. On-brand for Trey, who initially follows Riddle’s orders to a T and kicks out his rule-breaking underclassmen.

Cater

There’s a LOT going on here, and I wonder if that’s in part because Cater is a Magicam fiend and in part because he’s using his flashiness to distract from looking deeper into him. This cupcake reflects that idea well, especially with the colorful sprinkles in the center (as opposed to spread out like Trey or Riddle’s) to make the otherwise mainly orange and red cake pop out more on a social media feed. It also could mean that Cater really keeps to himself, as the sprinkles are not spread outward.

If you look closely, the frosting vaguely resembles Cater’s hair. There’s a larger dollop in the middle which sort of looks like the middle section of his hair that’s pulled back.

There’s lots of little decorations that resembles the decorations on Cater’s phone case—an item near and dear to his heart.

The orange slices can be sweet—the impression that Cater tries to give off—but the pretzel implies a savory taste—what he actually prefers to eat.

There’s a squiggle of darker orange under his name. Is it to call attention to his identity? Cater tries to seek validation and attention from socials, so maybe this is a call to action.

Cater’s cupcake is the only one in his entire dorm that has TWO cards (both four of diamonds). One is probably a cookie and is in full color whole the other is one solid color (brown) and made of chocolate. Most likely this is referring to his UM, which allows Cater to create clones of himself. I wonder if the second card being chocolate alludes to something else too… Namely, the more melancholy and downtrodden part of himself that Cater usually does not let his peers know about 😔

Also two cookie sticks! Similar meaning as Trey’s, especially given that Cater was the first upperclassman to toss Adeuce out (after he gets them to paint the roses for him).

Ace

Ace of hearts card!

A sprinkle of hearts… Are any of us surprised??

His frosting is very ruffled and playful, much like his personality.

The cupcake is more on the simple side compared to many of the others; this is also very “Ace” of him, as Ace is commonly described as “the average high school boy” and has indicated himself that he has no particular goals or ambitions yet.

There’s a cherry on top! Very bright and cheeky, just like Ace—oh, and let’s not forget, cherry pie is his favorite food!

There’s also what appears to be almond shavings on Ace’s cupcake; almonds are actually very closely related to cherries so it’s a great pairing! If we really wanna stretch it, maybe it’s a reference to how Ace is skilled at mimicking or copying others, as the taste/smell of almond and cherries can be commonly mistaken for one another.

Deuce

Two of spades card!

Deuce’s cupcake has a very different texture to it. Unlike the others, his is very smoothed out and almost shiny (like a mirror glazed cake!). It makes me think this is to help him stand out as someone who is trying to reform and reinvent himself into something sparkling—especially seeing as the blue part of the cake seems to be covering up/glooping over the body of the cupcake itself.

Little candy eggs (one with a crack in it) and a baby chick! A callback to him liking egg dishes and the utter despair he experienced when he first learned that supermarket eggs aren’t fertilized…

The light blue squiggle makes me think of Deuce meandering and not knowing where he wants to go in life, representative of his delinquent phase or perhaps struggling to stay on the straight and narrow path of an honors student.

Finally, we have the grey marks on the cupcake which look like tire marks left from skidding around on a magical wheel/blastcycle, Deuce’s preferred mode of transportation!

Deuce's cupcake goes from blonde/yellowish to blue, which probably refers to him going from bleached hair as a delinquent to his natural hair color as he tries to reform himself.

Savanaclaw

Golden yellow cupcake liners with Savanaclaw’s signature horizontal zigzag pattern.

Their names seem to be done in a blocky text on chocolate. Fits the tough, somewhat rigid hierarchical feel of the dorm.

Leona

A crescent moon-shaped candy invokes the imagery of Scar singing the final line to Be Prepared as he and the hyenas ready themselves for the coup.

The darker frosting swirled on the side be interpreted as his scar or maybe the end of his tail.

Cacao nibs kind of remind me of rocks, perhaps to symbolize the hard childhood Leona had, desperately trying to prove himself to people who didn’t like him in the first place. There’s notably also golden specks there—a ray of hope for him to be better? Or maybe a nod to his noble lineage.

The chocolate sauce makes this cupcake feel very decadent but also adds to the dark look of it. I would say it resembles blot, but none of the other OB boys have this same feature. Maybe a hint at Leona’s depressive traits?

Wishful thinking on my part, but Leona’s cupcake is the only one in his dorm with a large splash of green (thanks to the leaves there). I like to think it’s him “turning over a new leaf” and turning his sights onto his internship + working toward helping to help preserve nature and discover energy efficient methods to help his country.

His cupcake is the “tallest” in Savanaclaw (because of how high his frosting is)—he’s obviously the leader of the pack.

Ruggie

Very decadent cupcake. A large scoop of ice-cream, nuts, pastries, tons of cream and frosting… it looks like someone just piled on all their favorite desserts (which suits a glutton like him). Even his own cake looks like it’s about to burst out of the liner!

Two donuts inserted in, because 1) they’re Ruggie’s favorite and 2) two is better than one!

The scattered chunks of chocolate resemble the pattern on the coat of a spotted hyena, which is what Ruggie is.

Jack

WHY DOES HIS CUPCAKE JUST STRAIGHT UP LOOK LIKE HIM… The two paler frosting peaks are his ears, the two-tone swirl results in his hair but also results in the high peak of his tail.

This cupcake has a lot of nuts (I see a walnut, a cashew, maybe crushed peanuts, and many whole hazelnuts). Maybe because Jack is “a tough nut to crack” due to his stoic and standoffish attitude? But we all know he’s a sweetheart deep down, perhaps why the most abundant of these nuts is hazelnuts, often used in many desserts and especially paired with chocolate.

xvsjwveiwk This is a slightly unserious note but there’s something whitish that night be dried coconut??? Sprinkled on the cake… I-Is that Jack shedding/j

Octavinelle

Each Octavinelle cupcake has a black macaron decorated to resemble their dorm uniform hats! The filling is purple (like Octa’s usual color) and has candy pearls (since they’re from the sea).

Their names are written in an elegant flowing font, with emphasis on the first letter of their names (slightly bigger than the other letters). It provides an impression that differs from the other letters in their names, much like how the Octatrio themselves can be deceptive.

A bowtie that matches what each boy wears in his dorm uniform.

The sprinkling of little purple pearls could really be nothing, but they could also be all the powers/abilities they have collected together.

Azul

The single chocolate stick (not two, unlike Cater and Trey’s) could pass as a straw, making the whole cupcake appear like a drink. Makes sense, the Mostro Lounge has a 1 drink minimum + his Dorm Uniform vignette is all about how he wants to buy the rights for the popular Mystery Drink from Sam.

A little contract and writhing chocolate tentacles pair nicely together. Together, they represent his UM and how his tendrils reach out to pull people into deals.

Azul also has a scoop of ice-cream, but it is notably VERY different looking than Ruggie’s. Azul’s is much smaller (because he moderates what he eats and how much) and neater too (because he cares about his tidy appearance).

There is a swirl of purple frosting on the bottom but most of the frosting is white and piled high. The former must be Ursula’s skin, and the latter her hair, as it is similar in shape.

His cupcake liner has the widest stripes (because he used to be overweight in the past) and has little purple dots (maybe in reference to the suctions on his tentacles).

Azul keeps the spiral seashell that resembles Ursula’s necklace.

Azul's cupcake goes from purple to white, which may denote his transition from octopus merman to human.

Tweels

The twins have a scalloped seashell that splits in half, representing the other brother. The way the shell divets also makes it look like a heart shape, implying the brothers “share a heart” or perhaps calling back to how both of their UMs involve “the heart” (Shock/Bind the Heart).

Their frosting is the color of their hair, even containing a stripe of black (in opposite directions) to match their hair. The frosting also seems to be slightly textured, which matches the gills and scales on their merforms.

The peak of the frosting resembles the ends of their eel tails flicking in opposite directions.

Three diamond-shaped “scales” on each cupcake; this is ghe same shape and design as the earrings they wear.

A ring of purple frosting is included; this could represent Azul, someone whom the twins closely work with and consider a great source of amusement. It’s telling that the purple frosting is below the teal frosting, as the twins have made it clear before that they’re not his minions or “below” him, they act independently and choose to follow Azul because they want to (and have the agency to leave whenever).

Jade

Jade’s cupcake liner has the most numerous and thinnest vertical stripes. There is also a very fine zigzag running through the liner. Very similar to Jade’s teeth arrangement and how they present as small but frequent.

Jade's cupcake stays a consistent color throughout the creation process.

Floyd

Floyd’s cupcake liner is in the middle of Azul and Jade’s in terms of line spread and thickness. The zigzag is also more elongated than Jade’s, matching Floyd’s more easygoing personality between the two twins. He’s also more likely to show his full teeth!

Floyd's cupcake goes from gold to teal, but Jade does not do the same or even the reverse. Maybe this hints at how Floyd is the more fickle brother?

Scarabia

Scarabia cupcake liners are color blocked with solid black and a deep red with an intricate golden pattern. Matches their dorm uniforms well!

They have snake biscuits with their names in bold, blocky all capital letters for impact. The biscuit shape suits the Sorcerer of the Sands. The text choice… I’m not sure, maybe to match the “casual streetwear” style of the dorm…? Or the dorm leader’s brazenness and overt friendliness?

Kalim

His earrings have been made into an edible version!

Thumbprint cookies that resemble glistening jewels! This, plus the colorful sugar pearls, represents Kalim’s immense wealth.

There’s a bow tied around his cupcake liner, which matches the cloth he wears around his head in many outfits of his.

The feathers that transition in color are for Kalim’s love of animals and willingness to accept others of all kinds (“colors”). This could also be a reference to his Dorm Uniform vignettes, where he pulled off a trick that made white birds appear to be “rainbow”.

At first I thought the white puffy frosting was to look like the Sultan’s turban, but wouldn’t they make it smoother and resemble one cohesive lump in that case…? Then I realized the white frosting actually resembles a CLOUD 😭 which fits Kalim so well, since he takes his friends out on magic carpet rides…

The red peak poking out of the top could be like… the domed roof of a tower, since there is one both for the Sultan’s palace and in Scarabia dorm. The white sprinkles/coconut shreds on the red part also gives the impression that the roof just poked through the clouds www

VERY tiny detail but if you look closely you’ll notice that Kalim’s cupcake is… lumpy… almost as though he tried baking for the first time himself and messed it up a little, so Jamil took over decorating for him to cover up the mistakes. (That’s headcanon anyway, lol)

Jamil

Jamil’s cupcake is a two-tone twirl thar matches the colors of his dorm AND the turban he wears when he overblots.

We have the classic red feather, three golden orbs, and a thumprint cookie (again, resembling a jewel) to match Kalim’s and to match Jamil’s hair accessories!

The little bits of gold sprinkled around are hard to place but maybe it’s to show how Jamil has to put Kalim first and foremost while his own feelings get dismissed/belittled/treated as less important.

Large chunks of chocolate on top! Not sure what this could be, but a part of me wants to believe it’s his depressive or defeatist traits, since Leona also has chocolate, but scattered. (Can you tell I loved these two’s interactions in book 6?)

Finally, we come to the enigmatic and out-of-place golden squiggle. Someone as meticulous as Jamil couldn’t possibly have intentionally placed that there, right…? Allow me, if you will, to circle back to the “Kalim was trying to bake with Jamil” theory… What if, while Jamil was decorating Kalim’s cupcake to cover up the unevenness of the cake, Kalim tried to thank Jamil and repay the favor by decorating Jamil’s cupcake??? And it resulted in… that squiggle… so Jamil had to roll with it and make the rest of his cupcake look as aesthetically pleasing as possible.

Pomefiore

All Pomefiore names are written in elegant script on a chocolate disc that is also stamped with the stars and moons of their dorm.

The cupcake liners have the same stars and moons pattern and has the colors of Pomefiore.

Vil

Similar to Riddle, Vil has a crown to show that he is the dorm leader. His is, of course, a different design to reflect a different queen (the Fairest Queen, not the Queen of Hearts).

The frosting has a slight gradient which is the same as the tips his hair.

The golden leaves match the leaves on the back of his dorm leader tiara/crown.

There are berries on top; notably, a red one still has a bit of leaf and branch stuck to it, making the berry look like a red apple (you know, cuz the Evil Queen used one to poison Snow White).

Vil has golden dust and two types of round candies evenly dispersed on the cupcake. It shows us how clean and yet elegant his personal style is.

Rook

Rook's cupcake has a very unique shape that is not quite like any other student's. Indeed, his cupcake resembles his hat (note the little feather sticking out of the top purple part) and bangs (the lower yellow part).

The purple part looks like it is made with an extruder and results in a texture similar to the top of a mont blanc; this is probably to help differentiate it from the smoother texture of the yellow beneath. Since the purple is a hat, the texture is most likely to make it seem more "fabric-like".

The yellow part + the color change from yellow to purple may also be a reference to how he was originally in Savanaclaw, but then transferred to Pomefiore.

An edible bow and arrow motif befitting of a skilled huntsman!

The squiggle line here seems to be showing the path of his arrow, which always finds its mark. Additionally, Rook himself is a tricky person and usually employs roundabout strategies or misdirecting ways to achieve his goals.

At the end of the arrow's path is a cluster of what seems to be pomegranate seeds, which seems odd and something more befitting of Idia or Ortho (who have ties with Hades; there is a tale about Hades having Persephone eat a pomegranate fruit which dooms her to spending half of her time in the Underworld). However, I think here the pomegranate seeds are meant to be... like... an artistic, abstract depiction of blood once the arrow strikes its target.

There's blueberries on top, an element he has in common with Vil (someone whom he devotes himself to). The leaves here with the berries tie Rook to the wild, both as a huntsman and has an ex-Savanaclaw student.

Epel

The pale purple color of the frosting is the same as Epel’s hair!

Unlike Vil’s sprinkled-on decorations, Epel’s are not spread out evenly and instead cluster at the top. This may be attributed to their different levels of maturity, as Vil and more knowledgable than Epel, who expresses outdated views on gender and has a limited understanding of the world due to coming from a very rural area.

There’s a fine shimmer on Epel’s cupcake—probably because his arc in book 5 was about learning to appreciate and weaponize his beauty.

Two apple slices because… well, when you think of Epel, you think of apples and the Felmier family business!

There seems to be a little bit of yellow peaking out from the cake? Are those more apple slices or an apple filling…?

The pale frilled strip of frosting resembles a lace collar, something which Epel wears in his school uniform.

Epel is the only member of Pomefiore to have a cupcake which LACKS a blueberry (or really any berries at all). This is a subtle indication that he is the “odd one out” within the dorm, as he, unlike Rook, is not conforming to the standards set by his dorm leader.

Ignihyde

The Ignihyde cupcake liner has the same black and blue geometric look as their dorm uniform jackets.

I don’t know how to really describe the font their names are written in, but the way the letters are cut reminds me of a “Greek” style of text (similar to this).

Their names seem to be displayed on Oreos chocolate sandwich cookies with Ignihyde blue fillings. Counting the parts (2 cookies, the cream filling), there’s three in total, which matches the count of the heads of Cerberus, as well as how many Shroud brothers there are.

Both Idia and Ortho have what look to be confetti cakes as the base for their cupcakes, Because of the dark color of the cake and the bright color of the sprinkles, it creates the impression of stars in the night sky—maybe to reference Star Rogue, their favorite video game.

Idia

The skull-shaped technomantic device Ida uses to launch his magic spells tops off his cupcake.

On either side of the skull device are candies (?) that look like the same light sticks Idia is super into waving around at his beloved idols’ concerts.

The blue frosting is meant to look like his fiery hair!

Idia’s cupcake goes from a red gradient to a blue one. His hair actually goes change color like this based (on his mood), We’ve seen his hair go from blue to red from anger and/or determination and passion in both book 7 and in his Dorm Uniform vignettes.

Ortho

This cupcake seems to represent both the deceased Ortho and the current android Ortho.

Not sure what it is, but there’s something with a cybernetic glowing design that implies a circuit board; this is part of the internal parts which make up robo!Ortho.

There’s some kind of sauce with sprinkles over the top of that layer; this could be the blot that makes up phantom!Ortho, since we usually don’t associate the “dripping” of the sauce with robo!Ortho.

The smaller dollop of blue frosting is Ortho’s fiery blue hair. He’s smaller and younger than Idia, so the flames do not consume the entire cupcake. (Alternatively, this could also be the fire-shaped bottle that serves as phantom!Ortho’s head.)

Under the frosting is a cookie and a thin ring which resembles the ring of glowing triangles that appears around robo!Ortho’s neck. A similar pattern appears around the neck of phantom!Ortho.

This cupcake’s cake is a lighter color than Idia’s cake. It also has a larger variety in the sprinkle colors, maybe as a nod to Ortho’s cheerier and more hopeful personality compared to Idia’s gloomier and pessimistic one.

Diasomnia

The Diasomnia cupcake liners are black with a green briar pattern.

Each student’s name is piped in chocolate, with the third years in white and the underclassmen in what seems to be milk chocolate.

The cupcakes seem to be malformed or sort of puffy like Kalim’s is. I wonder if that means Lilia roped all of his kids to bake with him as a bonding exercise www

Malleus

Malleus’s cupcake goes from Diasomnia green to black (the royal color of the Draconia bloodline), symbolizing the eventual transition he must make from student to king of his country.

The frosting on top is the same colors as he night sky sprinkled with silver stars. Malleus likes to take solitary strolls under the cover of night, so this suits him.

Malleus wouldn’t be Hornton/Tsunotaro without the horns! Of course we’ve gotta include a chocolate version of his iconic horns.

Extra frosting in a bright green; these are meant to be Malleus’s apocalyptic green fire that he spouts.

There’s a purple grape cut into two (I’m sure Rollo would be furious/j) to reveal the green insides. How curious! These colors are also considered accent colors for Maleficent. Another nice detail about the grapes is that the veining of the flesh makes the insides resemble reptilian eyes—like those of a dragon.

Lilia

The frosting is black for Lilia’s hair and has magenta (berry?) sauce to reflect his hair streaks.

Lots of berries (Lilia loves his berry juice) and irregular pink sprinkles or candy shards. It’s cute, punky, and whimsical, just like he is.

Chocolate bats for the bats that swarm Lilia in many animations. He’s also shown taking care of a bat in his Dorm Uniform vignettes.

I’ve been trying to figure out what the whole cream is… My best guess is they’re representing Malleus, Sebek, and Silver??? Silver and Sebek are the smaller two dollops since they grew up and trained together + are the most immature of the group. Malleus is the big, textured swirl on the left—he is older and more powerful than Sebek and Silver. This analogy also works when you consider that these three sit upon Lilia (the cupcake), who is the oldest and serves as the father figure and foundation for their dorm to get along with each other and with others.

I don’t know what that ahoge-like thing is supposed to be or mean—

Silver

His cupcake goes from a deep blonde/yellowish brown to silver. This reflects his hair color change following Lilia’s blessing.

Silver’s cupcake has a very dreamy and cloud-like quality to it because of the abundance of pastel-colored cream. The top of the frosting even droops over, sort of like a head dropping in sleep.

Crushed bits of an aurora-colored candy are sprinkled over the cake. They’re the same color as his eyes, as well as the ring gifted to him by his parents.

Two birds and some mint (?) leaves make up the colors of the Three Good Fairies (Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather). They also speak to Silver’s familiarity with the forest creatures.

Sebek

The pastel green frosting for Sebek’s cupcakes is sloped, and it is the only one styled this way. It may represent his lopsidedly views and understanding of the world, as he is easily one of the most rigid thinking within his dorm.

Many different things are sprinkles on the cupcake; it looks like someone threw them on thinking they would look cool with very little thought or planning. It fits how brazen Sebek is and also (funnily enough) matches his struggle with the arts.

Sebek is the only student with triangular sprinkles; is this meant to look like scales?? Or maybe particles of lighting?

There’s a massive chocolate lightning bolt topping off the cupcake. Nothing subtle or tactful about it, much like Sebek’s personality and voice.

There are two pieces of sliced grape to mimic Malleus’s cupcake. Interestingly, the grape halves seem to come from entirely different kinds of grapes: one green (unlike Malleus’s), the other red (like Malleus’s). Assuming the red half (which Malleus has two of) implies fae heritage (Malleus is full fae), then the green half is one’s human heritage. The grapes, then, denote Sebek being of half fae, half human descent.

Extra

Grim

He has a unique black and white vertically striped cupcake liner to represent Ramshackle dorm!

Grim’s name is written on a cookie that looks like a puffy manga text box. Makes sense, he’s usually being the mouth piece for Yuu when they don’t get dialogue options or even when they do.

Seems to be covered in sanding sugar to achieve the fuzzy texture of fur!

Little wafer (?) shaped like Grim’s tail! And cookies (?) iced to resemble his ears! Two paw prints 🥺 to match Grim’s toe beans… The cupcake truly is made in his image!!

The white shell border is probably a stand-in for the white tuft of fur that Grim has.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst tsumtsums #twisted wonderland tsumtsums #twst tsumtsum #twisted wonderland tsumtsum #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #twst analysis #twisted wonderland analysis #Heartslabyul #Grim #Savanaclaw #Octavinelle #Scarabia #Pomefiore #Ignihyde #Diasomnia

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dwindlinghaze · 2 years ago

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HIII YOU’RE SO AWESOME! I was wondering if I could request a extroverted introvert!fem reader x introverted!Remus, where she is introverted and very sunshiny in public and remus is grumpy but he’s literally madly in love with her? like sarcastic, confident Remus is with this like bubbly and giggly girl and just a cutesie little story about them?

I hope this isn’t too much!

-Anon 🫶🫶

hi, lovelyy! thank you for requesting this! i loved the idea a lot and i hope you don't mind me writing r as girly and feminine :) 🫖👛🫧🪽🎀

sunshine and midnight rain

(remus lupin x reader)

contents : fluff, kissing, sweethearts in the sweetest love 😭🩷

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

when he first saw you walking this morning with the brightest smile ever, he wanted to hold you and forget about everything in schedule today.

he saw you waving to a ravenclaw, blowing the girl a kiss as the two of you laughed. it was so adorable and heart warming. he couldn't believe it.

you plopped down next to him, greeting your boyfriend a good morning.

"morning, angel," he replied, kissing your head with a gentle yet firm pressure.

"how'd you sleep last night?" you asked, rubbing his cheeks softly.

"um good," he replied shortly. "would be better if you were with me but i'll survive," he smiled.

"oh rem, you can always ask me to be with you whenever you want okay?"

"i know, lovie," he replied, kissing you once more on your soft cheek.

when you two first started dating, it was a huge shock to the friend group. you two were the absolute opposite of each other and maybe that's why you two completed each other so well.

remus needs rays of golden sunshine, a beautiful princess-like girl whose heart is veiled with fresh daisies and soft hands to keep himself grounded while you needed those midnight rains to keep your flower field of your heart blooming continuously.

he remembered the first date you two had was on the most whimsical day ever. he laid out a picnic date for the two of you in the middle of a field of wild flowers.

when he saw you walking in from the door, his eyes were met with fleecy skin, sparkly eyes, light pink clothes, and a pure heart to tie them all together.

he couldn't believe it. such a dreamy girl wanted to be on a date with him!

he felt special. lucky. and best.

"you're absolutely stunning," he mumbled in awe as he saw you sitting down next to him, your soft skirt calmly hovering above his leg.

"remus, so are you," you said, smiling at him with a smile so sugary.

remus realised how quiet you were being. but he knew that he's not the cause of it. you were calm and peaceful, enjoying the soft winds surrounding you two.

"i made some food for us both, i hope you're hungry," he said, putting a good amount of food on to the plate he brought.

"mmm looks tasty," you beamed. "you must be a very good cook."

"i try," he smiled weakly. "i hope it isn't too bad, sorry if it is."

you took a portion of it, placing it on your mouth as you hummed in contentment. "it's delicious! do you cook a lot?" you asked.

"i help my mom sometimes, yeah," he blushed, squeezing your soft knuckles.

"oh that's so sweet of you!" you giggled.

he loves you. so very much. he has been looking for you since he first heard his mother reading a romance fairytale when he was a child.

of course he wasn't thinking of you at that very moment. but he was hoping to have a lovely fairytale, he's glad his hope was fulfilled by meeting you.

he knew at the first moment he landed eyes on you, you will wrap his fragile heart in the most precious and endless love. he wasn't mad about it, he knew he will always have you by his side and he can rely on you whenever.

despite his rough and grumpy exterior, inside his heart was painted with your colours of pearls: pale white, pink, and softly glowing.

his friends teased him about it.

"how can she make you so soft and puddly? you're like a stone with us," sirius groaned. they're best of friends. remus is familiar with sirius' hyperbole jokes.

remus didn't reply, he kept on reading.

"moony, what do you call a dark house with pink interior?" sirius asked, one of his jokes.

"hmm?" remus replied, unamused.

"a remus!" sirius roared with laughter, james laughing along as he patted sirius' back for his horrible joke.

usually after a full moon, remus wouldn't even break a smile. he physically couldn't. but ever since you're his, he smiled whenever you visited him at the infirmary.

even james told you about it. "our grumpy remus smiles more often now that he met you," said the boy when you returned from the hospital wing to eat breakfast.

"really?" your heart warmed. you loved making people smile. it felt like you had accomplished something so special. although it's not a hard thing for people to do when you're around.

"yup. he usually sulks around the room after his furry little problem but now he looks... healthier and more alive somehow," sirius said.

"i'm so glad. i think he deserves the best of the best."

at first remus' friends were hesitant about your relationship, afraid that remus' cold demeanour would gloom down your shine but it never did. if anything your shine had brightened him up.

his friends were grateful and happy for remus. they know you're the perfect girl for him. a big part of loving someone else is to love yourself first. and you did that both so wonderfully.

remus isn't scared of you not accepting him for his lycanthropy. though he does have a fear of hurting you one day. that doesn't stop him from loving you and being open to you about himself.

he knew you're open minded. with your bold beliefs of equal rights in society. he wasn't scared. he wasn't in pain. after all the awful things the universe had given him, a lovely sweet girl is there, making the life he has bearable again.

the first night after he told you about his lycanthropy, you wanted to stay for him. but he insisted on you to not to do that and meet him the next morning instead.

no, he wasn't embarrassed of his appearance right after the transformation. his scars don't heal overnight. he physically looked the same the night before and the morning after, except that he's more relaxed the next morning as for the slumber really helped.

he just doesn't want you to be tired. he wanted you to sleep well. having the rest an angel always needs. of course you wanted to be with him before and after. but you know better than to go against him during his weakest point.

you see him the next morning, bringing a bag of chocolates and croissants.

you placed the bag on the bedside table, reaching for his hand instead. he was still asleep, eyes fluttering cause he's dreaming. you caressed his rough and scarred fingers softly, humming a tune.

remus woke up in the most peaceful way ever. seeing you beside him, playing with his fingers. "morning, princess."

you looked over at him, smiling so big. "oh morning, my remus," his heart fluttered when he heard the nickname. he is yours. forever yours.

"you're here, darlin'."

"i am, i brought breakfast for you," you grabbed the bag of chocolate and croissants, opening them.

he sat up, reaching for the pastry but you pushed his hand away, making him frown in confusion. "i will do the work for you. you've been doing so much to me and i want to do this in return," you giggled. "sit back and relax."

"you don't have to," he said.

"i know. i would never do this to anyone except you."

remus smiled at that, opening his mouth to let you feed him. "you're such a doll. you're so good to me and sometimes i feel like i don't deserve this treatment... i'm not good enough."

"rem, don't worry about that," you smiled at him softly, wiping away the drop of chocolate on his chin. "you have to love and accept yourself. i'm here to be with you all along the journey. i want you to be good to your body, be good to yourself and never say such things like that. life becomes good when you love yourself."

"is your life good?" he asked.

"the best," you answered. "i've learned to be grateful for everything- 'cause i have everything," you chuckled, squeezing his knuckles. "maybe i'm not the ideal type of girl in every person''s eyes but i am my type of girl."

"you're everything i aspire to be," remus said, holding his hand over yours over his heart.

"i love you," you said.

"i love you, darlin', i won't ever stop," he smiled.

#x reader #character x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin x reader fluff

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