#i never noticed if there was a piano in either of their houses

[cece693]

I wanted to begin writing for twilight again, but didn't have any ideas for who. So this fic is mostly be just going with the flow.

Sparkling Awkwardness

pairing: jasper whitlock x male reader x edward cullen tags: you are a newborn, but even then you can't catch a break, tug of war between two vampires, comedic elements, pre-relationship, reader is not that old, newborn vampire

In Forks, Washington, the perpetual gray skies had always been your friend—before and after you became a vampire. But not even the cozy gloom of the Pacific Northwest could hide the shimmering tension stirring between Jasper and Edward over you, of all people.

You never asked to be so desirable; you certainly hadn’t been in your human life. But now, you were a shiny new vampire with a perfect complexion and a magnetic personality—at least, so you’d been told. You still felt like the same slightly clumsy, socially awkward guy, except you no longer tripped over your own feet unless you were actively trying to blend in. It was weird. Oh, and apparently, both Jasper and Edward thought you might be their “mate.” That word alone was enough to give you hives if your skin could still do that. It made everything feel predetermined—a cosmic real-estate deal on your afterlife.

No, thank you.

You plopped down on the gleaming white couch, adopting what you hoped was a casual position. Edward sat at the piano bench, absentmindedly letting his fingers hover over the keys, while Jasper paced near the staircase. They were doing that silent eye-contact thing—what you liked to call “vampire telepathy” (you knew it was actually Edward reading thoughts and Jasper sensing emotions, but still). Either way, you were definitely the topic, if the frequent side-eye glances were any indication.

You cleared your throat, forcing a grin. “So, are we going to continue the silent stare-off, or do I need to crack a few jokes to break this tension?”

Edward turned to you, lips curving into a tight, apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he murmured softly. “Old habits.”

“You guys have old habits? You’re basically the definition of ancient habits,” you teased. “I’m the new kid on the block. Cut me some slack. I’ve only been a vampire for—what—three months?”

Jasper stopped mid-pace, sending you a faint smirk. “If it helps, you’re doing a fine job adjusting. No unintentional biting incidents this week.”

“I appreciate the recognition. We can add it to my vampire résumé,” you said, only half-joking. “Next up: perfecting the sparkle. Do you think if I rub my cheek up against a disco ball, I’ll blind everyone within a two-mile radius?”

Edward’s eyes sparkled with suppressed amusement. “Might be a bit dramatic, even for us.”

Jasper shrugged. “No more dramatic than having two vampires fight over you, I reckon.”

You grimaced, nose scrunching. “Yeah, about that.” You cast them both a meaningful look. “Are you two really fighting over me? Because I’m not exactly used to…you know, this.”

“Yes,” Edward said at the exact same time Jasper said, “Of course.” Then they flicked irritated glances at each other, as if each wished the other had said anything else.

When Carlisle brought you home after that near-fatal accident, you had been delirious and bleeding out. Edward, in typical heroic fashion, had insisted on saving you. Next thing you knew, there you were: newly turned, hungry for blood, and fitted with a brand-new wardrobe courtesy of Alice.

You’d spent the early days stumbling through the house, flinching whenever someone shut a door too loudly. But from the get-go, you noticed two sets of molten gold eyes on you more than the others: Jasper’s and Edward’s.

You didn’t think much of it at first—maybe they were just protective. But it quickly escalated from polite overprotectiveness to…whatever this was. Tense stands in the living room. Soft arguments at midnight. That time Jasper accidentally crushed a chair arm because Edward “invaded your personal space.” Or the time Edward snarled under his breath for no apparent reason when you innocently asked Jasper for some sparring tips.

Needless to say, that’s when you began to suspect something was afoot. And apparently, that something was the so-called mate bond. You still didn’t buy it.

A creak on the polished floor made you realize you’d been tapping your foot anxiously—only to discover it was Jasper edging closer to you. He had that concerned older-brother-turned-smitten-face again. Meanwhile, Edward looked up from the piano, watching you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to (besides maybe the antique piano itself).

You sighed, addressing them both. “So, as fun as it is being the center of your undead soap opera, can we talk about the whole ‘mate’ thing? I still don’t buy into it.”

Edward studied you, a hint of a frown creasing his perfect forehead. “I’ve heard your thoughts,” he began, “and I understand why you’re—”

“You heard my thoughts?” you cut in, eyes narrowing. “Hey, man, that’s private property up there. At least charge admission.”

A sheepish smile briefly pulled at his lips. “I try to respect your privacy, but strong emotions tend to overflow.”

Your cheeks heated (which was impossible, physically, but you felt it). You cleared your throat. “Well, guess I should keep my strong emotions dialed down—like that’s even possible. I’m brand-new at this vamp thing. I can’t walk across the room without rearranging furniture accidentally.”

Jasper let out a low laugh. It instantly relaxed some of the tension in the room—he couldn’t help broadcasting some of that relaxation to you, as was his empathetic gift. “I’ve got no intention of forcing you into anything,” he said gently. “It’s just…I feel how your emotions waver between us. It’s intense.”

You threw up your hands. “I can’t help it! You two are like walking advertisement campaigns for impossibly cool vampires. I mean, Edward, you’ve got that brooding poet vibe, and sometimes your hair looks like you walked off a shampoo commercial—”

He seemed surprised. “I—thank you?”

You went on. “Jasper, you’re the calm center in a raging storm, and plus, that Southern drawl is kinda hot. Sorry, is that weird to say out loud?”

Jasper blinked. “It’s— it’s not unwelcome.”

Edward’s lips twitched in a smile. “So, you do admit you feel…something?”

“Well, yeah!” you exclaimed. “But does that mean I have to pick and stamp a romantic label on it right now? Because that’s a lot of pressure.” You flopped back against the couch dramatically. “Especially when I’m trying to figure out why my sparkles look more like glitter glue than fancy vampire confetti in the sunlight.”

You heard a snicker and glanced to the side. Emmett was leaning in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, thoroughly entertained. Alice stood behind him, grinning like this was the funniest show on earth.

“You’re both about one push away from a territorial meltdown,” Emmett teased his brothers. “And I, for one, can’t wait to see who’s gonna punch whom first.”

Jasper shot him a warning look. “Not helpful, Emmett.”

Edward winced. “I’d prefer if we avoided violence.”

You rubbed your temples. “Yes, please, let’s not have that. It’s already complicated enough without fistfights.”

“Aw, come on,” Emmett drawled, “vampire fights are the best. It’ll be over in about two seconds and destroy half the house. Great entertainment, if you ask me.”

Alice laughed behind her hand. “I saw a vision of that once. Rosalie was not happy about the furniture repairs.”

In an effort to shift the mood, you sat up straight, cleared your throat, and pointed at Edward and Jasper in turn. “First, you.” You locked eyes with Edward. “Stop reading my cringe-worthy daydreams—I can’t handle that level of exposure.”

He pressed his lips together in a teasing way, then nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“Second,” you said, turning to Jasper, “no more flooding me with calm vibes to manipulate me into hugging you for, like, five minutes at a time.”

Jasper put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “I don’t do that on purpose. Usually,” he added under his breath.

“And third,” you said, scanning between them, “I don’t want either of you jumping to assumptions about being my ‘mate.’ I don’t even know what that truly means aside from it being the vampire version of destiny. Maybe I’m too new to see the big picture, but…” You shrugged, folding your arms. “I’m not ready to commit. I like you both. Deal with it.”

Edward’s eyes flickered with relief and a shade of disappointment simultaneously, as though he’d half-expected you to declare an immediate eternal bond. Jasper gave you a solemn nod, managing a small, humble smile.

“So you want to, what, keep this casual?” Edward asked.

“I want to keep living—uh, un-living—my new existence,” you corrected, “without strapping myself into an epic love saga just yet. Let me be a baby vampire who can’t even do a normal grocery run without wanting to pass out from the smell of raw hamburger.” Your voice dropped into a mock superhero tone: “Time to buy more steak sauce, but oh wait, I can’t eat human food anymore.”

A strained silence passed, then Edward sighed, letting the corners of his mouth lift. “Fair enough.”

Jasper stepped closer, just enough that he could have touched your arm, but he hesitated. “And if we…I don’t know, slip up? If one of us tries to edge the other one out?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You both have about a century of experience on me. I promise, if you slip up, I will find some comedic way to remind you. Maybe I’ll laminate a scoreboard.”

At that, Jasper chuckled quietly. Edward dipped his head, biting back a grin. It seemed the cold war between them was cooling off—somewhat.

Emmett broke into a broad smile. “Aw, man, a scoreboard. Please put me in charge of that. I’ll keep track of who gets the most time with you. Strictly for comedic purposes, of course.”

From across the house, Rosalie’s voice rang out, “Don’t encourage them!”

As the sun sank below Forks’ ever-present clouds, you rose from the couch, nearly tripping over the rug on your way to the door—reflexively, Jasper grabbed your elbow, steadying you. Edward hovered just behind you, poised to catch you if you stumbled further.

“Thanks,” you murmured to both of them, awkwardly aware of their closeness. Being flanked by two protective vampires had once seemed terrifying, but now it felt…comforting. Still weird, though.

“We’re not going to solve everything tonight,” you said, taking a purposeful step back so you could see them both—and so you didn’t spontaneously lean into someone’s chest. “Let’s just agree not to tear each other apart, yeah?”

Edward extended a hand toward Jasper, as if to form a truce. Jasper eyed it warily for a moment before accepting the gesture in a calm, if reluctant, handshake. “Alright,” Edward said. “No tearing each other apart.”

Jasper nodded. “Can do.”

Feeling a spark of mischief, you clapped your hands. “Great. That’s one less lawsuit for Dr. Cullen to worry about. In the meantime, Emmett—please start designing that scoreboard.”

“On it!” Emmett crowed from the doorway.

“Have a good night, you two,” you said to Jasper and Edward. Then, with a flash of a grin, you headed for the stairs, half-dreading, half-anticipating the comedic fiascos tomorrow was sure to bring. Behind you, you heard their faint conversation:

(Edward) “He’s definitely going to drive us insane, isn’t he?”

(Jasper) “Yep.”

(Edward) “… And you’re okay with that?”

(Jasper) “I think I am.”

Your lips quirked into a smile. Even if you didn’t believe in mates, you had to admit—it felt pretty good having not just one, but two admirers who thought you were worth fighting for. Sure, you still sparkled like a glitter bomb gone awry, and your vampiric existence remained confusing at best. But if that’s the price of comedic immortality… well, you could live—er, un-live—with that.

[shizuturnspages]

If your requests are opened can u pleeaasee write a fanfic on diluc/childe/anyone else when a slightly buff y/n walks past them/ into angels share 👅

Strong Impressions

Synopsis: The doors of Angel’s Share creaked open with the low groan of well-worn hinges, letting in the cool evening breeze—and you. You stepped inside, brushing dust off your coat with one hand, and not-so-accidentally rolling your shoulders just enough to stretch the fabric across your toned arms. The tavern had its regular crowd, all clustered around tables with drinks in hand, laughter buzzing under the sound of soft piano. The air changed. You didn’t notice it, not at first. But someone did. Three someones, in fact. Pairings: [Separate] Diluc, Childe, Kaeya x Reader

Diluc: The Man Behind the Bar

He was polishing a glass behind the bar, focused as ever, brows furrowed in quiet concentration. A man of discipline. A man of poise. A man who’d never let something—or someone—disrupt his calm.

Until you walked past.

Your arm brushed lightly against the bar, flexing slightly with the motion, and for the briefest moment, Diluc’s hand faltered. The cloth slipped. The glass nearly dropped.

He caught it, of course. He always did.

But his gaze slowly lifted.

You didn’t see him at first, too busy scanning the drink list or maybe looking for a table.

But Diluc saw you. He saw all of you.

The quiet strength in your stride. The way your shirt hugged just enough to leave something to the imagination. The casual confidence of someone who could break a man in half, but wouldn’t—unless given a reason.

He cleared his throat. Loudly.

You looked up. Met his eyes.

And he… looked away. Quickly. Like the bastard had been caught staring. Because he had.

He poured something into a glass, something he’d made up on the spot. Something sharp and slow-burning. Something to settle the heat that had inexplicably crept up his neck.

When you approached the counter, lips quirking in a polite smile, he slid the drink to you without a word.

"A new blend. On the house."

His voice was rougher than usual.

You raised a brow. “You’re not usually the free drink type.”

He looked at you. Properly this time.

“I’m not usually distracted,” he said. “But then again, I don’t usually see new regulars who look like they could lift me.”

Childe: Oh No, They’re Hot

He saw you before you even opened the tavern door. He’d been leaning back in his chair, one boot kicked up on the edge of the table, drink in hand, eyes lazily roaming the entrance.

And then—there you were.

You walked in like you owned the place. Or maybe like you were scoping it out to take it over. Either way, Childe was watching.

His chair came down with a thud.

“Whoa.”

The syllable fell out of his mouth without permission.

You weren’t a hulking mountain of muscle—but you didn’t need to be. Everything about you screamed practical strength. The kind earned from travel. From training. From fighting.

He liked that.

No, he loved that.

When you passed by his table, he stuck out a leg. A casual obstacle.

You stepped over it effortlessly. But not without a glance.

Childe grinned. “I’m impressed.”

You blinked. “You tripped me.”

“I tried to.” He leaned back again, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Didn’t work. So now I’m intrigued. What’s your secret, sunshine? Punching hilichurls before breakfast?”

You snorted. “What’s it to you?”

“Oh, nothing.” He tilted his head. “Just wondering if you’re taking applications for a sparring partner. Or a dinner date. Whichever comes first.”

Kaeya: Oh, This Is Going to Be Fun

He was already three drinks in when you arrived. Which meant his tongue was extra slippery.

You entered, strong posture and quiet presence radiating confidence. Kaeya’s eye gleamed.

You weren’t loud. You weren’t flashy. But the moment you walked in, his attention shifted.

“Who’s that?” he asked no one in particular.

No one answered, because they all knew better.

You approached the bar, speaking briefly with Diluc, muscles flexing slightly with a stretch. And Kaeya—Kaeya watched.

“Oh,” he murmured to himself, tapping his glass with a smirk. “I like this one.”

He waited until you were seated alone, then casually sauntered over, swirling the dregs of his wine.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, already pulling the chair out.

You looked him over. “Can I say no?”

“You could,” he said, resting his chin on one hand, eye gleaming. “But I’d only take it as a challenge.”

You laughed—just once. But it was enough.

He leaned forward.

“So tell me,” he purred. “Do you work out for fun, or are you hiding a secret career as Mondstadt’s personal knight in shining armour?”

You gave him a look. “Only if you’re the dragon.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Kaeya said, voice dropping an octave. “I’d love for you to slay me.”

Later that night…

You left the tavern, the moonlight casting your shadow long behind you.

You didn’t know it, but they all watched you leave.

Diluc, through the windows, lips pressed into a thin line.

Childe, from the alley, hands in his coat pockets, a smirk on his face.

Kaeya, leaning in the doorway, eyes glowing with mischief.

You had walked into their world like a comet—bright, fleeting, unforgettable.

And now that you were gone, there was only one thought on all their minds:

They had to see you again.

Preferably soon.

Or forever.

[verlaineszz]

hi!! Can you write a yandere ghost dazai x human fem reader fic?

A/N: of course!! (✦ ‿ ✦) I've been actually meaning to write a ghost dazai but a yandere? Oohhhhh sounds great! :D, thanks for submitting this lovely request of yours anon(≧▽≦)!

YOUR SILHOUETTE A PALE MIST, BURY ME IN YOUR KISS!

ᯓ ⁺₊ ๋࣭ ⭑♡— YANDERE! GHOST! Dazai X HUMAN FEM! Reader!

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ SUMMARY: Nearby a forest, there was a 1862 Victorian Mansion that still had strong walls and doors that stood strong against winds and storms. But there was something weird about the home, the past owners of the home were either found dead or moved out for good after just a week.

It was rumoured that it was haunted by a vengeful spirit, but no one dared to banish it or call in a priest.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ☠︎︎— HORROR + ANGST + SUGGESTIVE(?) + FLUFF

A/N: FINALLY A NORMAL REQUEST!! anyway, this fanfic may be abit long but apologies since you never really specified your preference for the fic but I'll try!! :D i haven't written yandere in a year so let's see what i can do. （＾ω＾）

𓂃 ࣪˖ ༒︎— WARNINGS : Blood, Death, Suggestive (?) , cursing, SLIGHT(???) GORE

You were currently moving in the old 1862 Victorian Mansion that was rumored to be haunted, obviously it was sold pretty cheap through the online site and the decor of it was absolutely marvelous, which made you not even care if it was haunted or not.. It was so cheap and so beautiful that how could you not buy it?..

The boxes of your things are already in your home and all you have to do is to unpack. You started unpacking and moving things around.

During your little unpacking session, you were gonna walk up the stairs but notice that there was this portrait shape that was covered with a red cloth that wasn't shown in the pictures online, you put the boxes down and decided to remove the cloth. When you slowly slipped the red cloth off the big portrait, there showed a man wearing a white jabot, blue and gold coat and a soft smile. This made you take a step back and look up and down to analyze the painting, the painting of the ridiculously attractive man.. Weird as hell!

You scoff and turn around to continue unpacking your things, but the second you turned around, you felt a pair of eyes watching you. You ignored the feeling and continue unpacking.

While you were unpacking, dazai— the phantom of the house that is the original owner of the home was watching you, it was new to him.. A female unmarried tenant? This might be his best bet to scare the living shit of you, since he hasn't gotten a female tenant yet.

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

The unpacking was done and you were visibly tired, immediately crashing on the red floral patterned couch that was in the living room. The whole place looked old but aesthetically pleasing. There was a fireplace, a grand piano, a grandfather clock, bookshelf and a coffee table with a wood vase of belledonna. You sigu and cross your legs, tilting your headback, this scene wasn't unnoticed by the ghost of dazai osamu. He was watching you with curious intent, he was sure that he'd have you dead or gone in no time since he never liked anybody living in his home. But since you were.. Really pretty.. Why not toy with you for a bit before placing your life in a casket?

During the first night, you were there on the bed in your new room, scrolling on your phone before looking at the time, it was 9:56 pm..you gotta take a shower before going to bed since you had work tomorrow. You stood up and removed your clothing before grabbing a robe and entering the bathroom, you turn the water on and began showering, as you showered, you still felt a creep run down your spine, as if you were being watched.

In dazai point of view, he was staring at your bare face, he smirked and checked you up and down.. Seeing your hips, thighs, waist.. And... He chuckled silently, seeing you showering without a clue that you were being watched, he quickly left and decided to give you some privacy.

After showering, you slid into a thin night gown before laying down on the canopy bed and scrolling on your phone, but as you laid down it felt strangely cold, the windows were closed so how could this be cold? You wondered before the bedside lights started ti flicker, but you quickly dismissed it as old house quirks— "must be some random Victorian magic or something.." you mutter before you continue scrolling on your phone, dazai continued to observe you in the shadows, sometimes moving places from time to time to look like shadows were moving which you unfortunately did not notice.

He pouted as he noticed that you didn't see the subtle appearances he did before planning of a way to get a reaction out of you.

You put down your phone and decided to sleep, it was now 10:23 and you really needed sleep. You stare at the canopy beds ceiling before slowly closing your eyes, your chest rising up and down slowly, a sight that dazai found warm. He stared at you with a grin as the moonlight through the window shined upon your body.

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧+

When you woke up, you felt like a hand was playing with you hair.. You immediately sat up straight and looked around, feeling spooked before taking a deep breath and getting out of bed to get ready to go to work then meet up with your boyfriend.

Whem you left, dazai stayed there, thinking about how to scare you even more, so when you left, he rearranged some of the stuff in yours house, small mischievous giggles came out of his mouth while doing so.

A few hours later.. The second you arrive back home and bring in your boyfriend, dazais expression from afar turned im disgust, obviously he didn't like other men in his house, especially when the man was with you when he just got a pretty lady in his humble abode!

your boyfriend wasn't really the most supportive person in the world or nicest.. He was just there, you didn't even know how you and him managed to get together when the whole relationship only felt one sided.

"This place looks.. Err.. Old.. You like this shit?" your boyfriend asked with a unimpressed look.

This left dazai pissed since he wasn't only in his house and taking you away from him but he was also insulting your choice in houses..

You and your boyfriend walked up the stairs to your room for some alone time, he sat there on your bed in a reckless way, he just laid there like he owned the place. He scrolled on his phone as you sit beside him on the right side of the bed and hug his arm, your boyfriend clearly couldn't care less which made dazai grumble silently in the corner of darkness.

You and your boyfriend were.. "cuddling" on your bed as he scrolled on his phone, probably lookin at other women before dazai got fed up and whispered something in his left ear to scare him— "get out, you scum."

Your boyfriends eyes widens a little, looking at you with a pretty annoyed look, "did you just call me something?.." he looked at you, visibly pissed, pushing your arm away from him. "What?? I didn't?" you replied back with an innocent look, dazai watched the scene, not wanting to resort to something else to not scare you away from him, he looks at your innocent face, though he can see you, both of you amd your boyfriend couldn’t see him.

"yeah right." your boyfriend scoffed, moving you away from him before he continue scrolling back on his phone, dazai clearly picked up that your boyfriend did not get the memo.

A few minutes later, your boyfriend stands up, eyes glued to his phone— "im gonna go find the bathroom."

When he found the bathroom, he did his business and started to wash his hands, The bathroom had a bathtub with gold stands, a small chandelier, a mirror, a silver faucet and a white and gold marbled sink, on the sink was some soap and a razors. The lights started suddenly flickering, your boyfriend scoffed in Annoyance. "why the hell did that bitch buy such a shabby old house..?!" he muttered while washing his hands before met with a cold feeling behind him, he ignored the feeling but it was obviously lingering. His eyes were just on his hands as he washed and washed and washed, he kept coating his hands with soap as he continue rubbing violently, the lights started flickering more frantically. "fuck"

A whisper was heard from behind your boyfriends back, "off", your boyfriend gulps as he washed his hands more violently, he couldn't move. He couldn't look up. He didn't wanna look at the mirror infront of him to see what was behind. "scum."

Your boyfriends eyes widens as he started to shake, he felt a hand wrap around his throat tightly, he looked up and saw nothing behind him but he felt something wrapped around his neck that was choking him. He coughed and coughed but when he looked down back to the running water and his hands, his hands were bleeding. Most of his hands skin was torn off, he looked at what he was holding and it was the blades. He hasn't been washing his hands the whole time.. He was getting cut.

He immediately sprinted out the bathroom, leaving the water and light on. You heard the opening of door bang againts the wall, you stood up from your bed and looked outside your room, by the time you went ouside your room, you saw your boyfriend sprint out of your house. "Hey! Wait! Where are you going!!" you yelled with a concerned tone, but when you yelled it, he was already gone. Your eyebrows furrowed in disappointment, your shoulders slumped, not understanding why he just left all of the sudden.

Dazai on the other hand was overjoyed. He even turned the sink and lights off for you to not waste water and electricity. Ah.. Only if you knew what he did.. He just saved you from your little toxic relationship, he really wanted to hear your voice praise him.

The day after that, you tried texting your boyfriend to only be met with blocked profiles and one messags, "we're done."

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

The haunting within your home escalates, multiple of your things was dissappearing or either misplaced somewhere.. There were nights where you'd be on your phone scrolling while comfortably laid down on your bed where you could hear whispers. It was either your name or threats— "Get out." - "[Your name], [Your name]"

It was a smooth deep voice that whispered subtly in your ear that gave you chills running down your spine, this honestly frightened you but you already paid full and moved all your stuff in so there was no way a little ghost or hallucination was gonna make you move out! Especially since this might've been the reasom why your son of a bitch boyfriend broke up with you, so.. why not keep the house?

The more you didn't budge through dazais antics, the more you pique dazais interest and attraction. You laid there on your bed, scrolling through your phone as you felt the vacant part of your bed get cold. You sigh— "does it always get cold whenever im not around?.." you mutter, still quite sad from the newly break up text before going back on your phone, suddenly one of your coats that was hung on the coat hanger on the side of room fell, you sigh in Annoyance and stood up, putting it back before you were met with a hand caressing your waist, "eek!" you squeeled before turning around to be met with.. Nothing.

You immediately ran back to your bed, hiding under the covers and forcing yourself to sleep, you stayed under the blankets, eye open and thinking about the situation. You're very sure now that it wasn't hallucinations and there really was something in your home, but the hand.. It felt human. It was cold but soft and gentle, not like the hands of your ex boyfriend.. You thought about more of the relationship between you and your boyfriend and realize that he never actually exchanged touches with you.. You were the one always handing it out but he never gave it back, this made your stomach hurl and you slowly slipped the blanket off of your upper body for air.. You stared at the canopy beds ceiling and tears left your eyes, "that bastard.." you mutter as you cried, you suddenly covered your face with your hands and groaned, turning to your side and cried in anger and sorrows.

The same gentle hands were on your waist, the hands that caressed you with deep devotion that you've never experienced before.. This is what you craved for.. You turn around and see nothing, you look around and you sit up, the room was dimly lit by the moonlight, casting a silvery glow over the old furniture. You wipe your tears before hearing a deep suave voice— "Don't cry now, bella.. Don't let tears stain your pretty face."

You feel your breath bunch up in your throat, "who are you?.." you mutter, trying to hide your fear.

"mm.. Nobody." dazai replies back, his voice was everywhere.. You couldn't tell where it was coming from.. If it was from left, right, front or from behind, the non visible hand on your waist slowly went down, giving a small squeeze to your hips before you woke up.

The sun was raised high as you looked at your window, you sit up and rub your eyes.. Was it all just a dream? Why did it felt so real? And why did you crave more of those little touches?..

The little touches that dazai gave you was subtle but full of devotion, he didn't even know that he would become so intrigued by you this quickly that he wanted to watch your every single move. He looked at you staring at nothing, perhaps you were in deep thought in his eyes..

He loved the way your lips would turn into a smile, he loved how your brows would furrow, he loved the way you breathed, the way you talked, the way you move, it was all fascinating to him.. He has been alone and lonely in the Victorian Mansion without any suitors..and you were visibly his type.

You started off you day with breakfast then taking a shower, you take off your clothes and looked at the mirror before hanging your towel, just when you were gonna turn around, you see a figure with brunette hair with their elbow on the sink edge and resting their face against their palm in a flash, you look back but nothing was there. You shrugged it off and continue to take a shower.

After showering and getting ready, you researched about the mansion and learned that there was an earl who used to own it but unfortunately died due to a murder, his name was dazai osamu, he was known to be popular amongst the ladies back in the 1860's before he died in 1872. You checked the pictures of him and it was exactly like the portrait by the stairs..

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

Every single night became intimate, you always saw him in your dreams and you always felt like you were getting watched.. Which turned invasive, dazai just wanted every part of you.

Night after night, he always gave you touch without showing hisself, but you already knew what he looked like through the painting.. But what made you feel guilty was that you couldn't touch him back, though his touches were random at night, it still gave you chills.

You lay calmly on your bed, you stare at the canopy beds ceiling as the nonvisible hand moves the hair out of your face, this was weird.. And you knew you needed to end it some way somehow.

Dazais feelings of making you stray away or die were now completely gone, he just wanted you by his side. He wanted you to be his.

You move to your side and look up, only to be met with a young man with brunette hair, brown eyes and a gentle smile. Your eyes widens and you look at him, was this really him?.. He grins and he caresses your cheek, "Do you enjoy my company, bella?" he asked in a soft suave tone, your eyes quickly relaxes as you slightly blush— "i guess so."

RING! RING! RING! Aw.. It was your stupid alarm, you open your eyes and look to the side to be met with nothing.. This was the first time you genuinely saw his face up close in real life.. You sigh and get ready for your day to go back to work.

You get ready and go down the stairs, trying to find your keys.

Dazai on the other hand, was holding your keys, he didn't want you Going anywhere. You looked and looked and looked.. But to no avail, nothing. Your workplace was pretty far and since you were near the woods, little to no cabs were around so you decided to call in sick. You began undressing, removing your work clothes and slipping into something more comfortable...

Dazais plans were to stop you from leaving the house in every single possible way. Night falls dark and the moon had risen up, leaving a pale glow outside, you were currently trying to think of what houses would be possible to stay in to finally escape the ghost who played games with you but as you were thinking on your bed, you went on your laptop and you scrolled on homes that were available, while you were scrolling, the laptop immediately closed as a hand wrapped around your waist, feeling a cold aura behind you. "what were you looking at bella?" he rests his chin on your shoulder, you sat there frozen before turning to him and being met with his pretty face.. His pale skin and brunette hair was a criminal combination, his face was so close to yours as he hugged you tightly from behind.

"..." you couldn't muster up a sentence.. "You aren't thinking about leaving me.. Are you [Your name]?.." he looked at you with pretty eyes.

"i.. Was just looking at houses." you replied back with a half life half truth statement. Dazai clinged onto you, it felt oddly comforting.. "You know im just here to protect you, Right? I'll treat you waaay better than that little ex of yours, my dear." he whispered in your ear in a possesive tone, blush crept up to your cheeks as he held you tightly, you looked at him and his gaze fell onto your lips, he examined your pretty face, though he was dead, he felt oddly giddy because he gets to hold you while your pretty face was close to his.

"You'll stay with me, got it? You're mine and no one else's."

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

Dazais desire to be with you turned insanely strong, so strong that be believed in something obsessive, every day he'd find ways to try and painlessly take your life without even realizing it, you already knew. You walked around the halls in your home knowing that at any second, the ghost who haunted you could come and just swoop you, you were confused why he wanted to kill you? You thought he loved you.. So why did he want to kill you?

You decided to confront him about it. As soon as it hit nightfall, you laid down on your bed and waited for his presence to immerge since his energy was stronger during night, as you feel his soft cold hands touch you waist, you grab his hand and turn to him, "What the hell have you been trying to do..!?" you ask in an angered confused tone.

He looks at you with slightly wide eyes before reverting back to normal, "oh whatever do you mean bella?" he tried to play it off.

"Why have you been trying to kill me!?"

"... I love you okay? I'm doing all of this for you." he said sternly, holding your hand softly and kissing peppering it with kisses.

Eventually the two of you broke out into a fight, though he tried to explain hisself, he really didn't wanna fight you. He just wanted you to understand that all he has done was for you. And he wanted for you to understand.

He gripping onto your waist, burying his face on the nape of your neck, his expression soft but disappointed..

"you really dont understand, don't you? I love you. And i'll do anything just to have you as mine."

His tone was low but it gave a hint of obsession.

"Please. Just dont go.. I- i can't keep being alone in this place. You're all i have." he muttered, his voice slightly whiny but full of sorrows as he held you tighter.

You felt awful, he loved you like no other and treated you better than anyone of your exes, though he was dead, he would love to kiss your lips again and again.

He held onto you tightly as you kept quiet, sighing before replying back— "If you keep this up, I'll move out. I'm serious."

Dazais eyes widens and the words that left your lips broke him since his body was buried under his house, his soul couldn't leave the mansion whatsoever, "Please! I can't lose you. Not now, not ever! Please! Give me a chance!" he gripped onto your clothing, "i love you more than my own existence, you're the only thing keeping me feel alive again and sane in this place, this place feels like an asylum! Don't.. Go." his voice cracked as he pleaded for you, tears was already beaded on his tear ducts, he didn't want you to go, he felt lost like some puppy, he just wanted you to stay with him, eternally.

He was so obsessed that he wanted to bind your soul with his so you could be his, together and forever in the afterlife.

A/N: originally, i was planning to make dazai kill reader but today i wanted to leave a cliffhanger. Thank you for reading and i really enjoyed this request!! :D I'll try to get into more yandere themes so i could do better in the future, thanks again anon for this lovely request of yours （＾ω＾）

© All works by @Verlaineszz. Do not copy, redistribute, or repost on other platforms.

[slaymitchabernathy]

House of Balloons

| “...you're in my world now, you can stay, you can stay. but you belong to me, ooh, you belong to me...this is a happy house, we're happy here in a happy house, oh this is fun, fun, fun, fun...” |

| tw: noncon |

Livia Snow, is from what Soarynn has concluded, the worst person in the world. Which is a hard thing to be in a world like this.

It’s not like Soarynn wants any part of this, or in Livia’s opinion, any part of her husband. Soarynn has barely seen the man since she arrived at her household and that was three days ago.

She spends the majority of her day with Livia, tending to her every need and silently waiting by her side when she’s not waiting on her hand and foot. Right now she’s quietly sitting in the corner of one of their many sitting rooms, staring at her lap while the Capitol ladies have tea.

Some of them brought their Handmaids with them, others left theirs at home. They speak about them like they're handbags, "Oh, I left mine at home today." Soarynn knew that men viewed women as objects, but she never thought that she could literally become one.

“It’s just so hard to get used to them,” one woman says, glancing over at Soarynn’s direction, “I mean, we’re just expected to be okay with this! And the Aunts have been no help either, suggesting that I stand idly by while my husband has sex with this stranger.”

Livia huffs in agreement, she does a lot of that from Soarynn has noticed. Huffing, sighing, scoffing.

This woman is never happy.

“Well, I for one will not be taking part in the bedding ceremony,” she informs her friends and Soarynn quickly glances at their shocked expressions.

“But, but the Aunts said that it was benefi-“

“I don’t care what the Aunts say, or the government, or my husband for that matter,” Livia cuts her friend off with a haughty tone, “I want no part in any of this until my baby is here.”

Soarynn doesn’t know whether she should be glad Livia won’t be witnessing the loss of her virginity or scared. She has obviously lost hers but Soarynn thought she might be a guiding hand in the process.

Apparently not.

The ladies whisper about the bedding ceremony some more, most of them are put off by it, envious of their Handmaids, and nervous about their husbands and how they’ll react to being with a new woman.

It turns out that not all of the Capitol ladies are entirely on board with the Handmaid Program.

Soarynn looks across the room at the other corner where another Handmaid is sitting, her head lowered, her hands clasped in her lap.

Soarynn wonders what District she’s from, if she’s from Twelve, where she’s been assigned.

She’s been doing her best to learn about the people in the Capitol, learn the names, the landmarks. Well, mostly the names since she has yet to leave the Mansion. Livia mentioned going out the other day but nothing has come of it yet.

Soarynn won’t be the one to ask about it either.

But she’s learned lots of names, lots of important names if they keep getting brought up. Creed, Persephone, Heavensbee, Festus, Plinth, Snow.

Words on paper but much more in real life.

“Soarynn, bring me some more tea,” Livia calls from the sofa.

Soarynn nods, silently rising from her chair so she can pour some more tea for the Lady of the House. There are Avoxes to do that for Livia. In fact, she has a whole staff to tend to her every need but she seems hellbent on making Soarynn do all the tasks for her.

She’s sure it’s nothing personal.

Soarynn carefully lifts the teapot, pouring more hot tea into a fancy-looking teacup. Before coming to the Capitol, she had never seen such fancy silverware before. Now it’s everywhere. The Mansion is filled with beautiful things. Paintings, furniture, decorations, glassware, even instruments.

This house is swimming in decadence.

She might just drown in it if she's not careful enough.

She caught a glimpse of a piano in the front room. She wonders which one of them plays. If she had to place her bets, it would be on President Snow. Livia does not seem to be musically inclined in the slightest.

“Here you are Mrs. Snow,” she says, offering up the cup to the Lady of the House. She’s met with several judgmental looks despite keeping her gaze lowered. These women are curious about her and where she’s come from. Livia has informed them about her District of origin no doubt, anything to pit them against her.

I’m a woman too, she wants to tell them, I was taken from my home and am being held here against my will. Her husband is going to rape me soon and I’m going to be forced to carry his child.

But it doesn’t matter. These women want something, someone to blame and because they can’t take their anger out on their husbands, they’ll settle for their Handmaids.

There is a common denominator in every issue Panem has ever faced.

Men.

Until everyone comes to that conclusion, Soarynn will be stuck in this hell, serving tea for the woman who hates her.

꧁ ꧂

"Tonight you'll conduct the bedding ceremony, should you misbehave, you'll be executed."

Soarynn only pauses her task for a moment before recovering and continuing to fold her laundry. Livia had delivered it to her room by dropping the basket on the floor along with a nasty look on her face. If Soarynn had to guess, she just came from her husband's study.

They must have discussed when the bedding ceremony would take place.

"Yes, Mrs. Snow."

Soarynn thought that Livia might leave once she delivered the laundry and the message but apparently, she's staying. She sits in that chair tucked away in the corner, watching Soarynn with a sharp gaze. Soarynn diligently folds her dresses, all red, all the same.

The Handmaid uniform is simple. It's a dark red and for the most part, very unflattering. It doesn't do anyone any favors when it comes to shape but that's most likely the point. There's a cape she can wear over the dress if it's cold outside. Her shoes are black, easy to slip on and off. Aunt Eudora says that if she's good then she might get to wear some shoes with a heel.

What a wonderful prospect.

"Do you say anything else or are you programmed to say the same three things over and over again?" Soarynn looks up from her spot on the floor. She chose to sit on the rug, if she had known that Livia would be staying, she would've gone to the bed.

"Yes, Mrs. Snow," she starts, quickly catching herself, "I mean, yes, I do say more than the same three things."

Livia could be very pretty if she tried. Not that she's ugly, but she's not what Soarynn would consider to be beautiful like Lucy Gray or Dorothea. This woman has all the money in the world and she can't buy an ounce of happiness or beauty.

"Well, I think you should continue to keep your mouth shut, no one cares about what you have to say."

Soarynn bites her tongue so she doesn't talk back.

"Leave the basket outside once you're done."

Livia briskly walks past her, leaving the door open and Soarynn listens to the sound of her receding footsteps. They lock her bedroom door every night, or well, President Snow locks it every night before he goes up to his bedroom.

Livia wants nothing to do with her.

The only reason she knows that it's him and not her is because his footsteps sound much more heavier than Livia's. And he always lets out a tired sigh while turning the lock.

What he doesn't know is that Soarynn sits right by the door with her back pressed against the wall.

Sometimes she doesn't know why she does what she does.

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus POV

"Seven Handmaids have been detained since their arrival three days ago."

Coriolanus withholds a sigh at the news he's given. There's a saying that no news is good news, but right now, he's only getting bad news. The Handmaids have been in the Capitol for three days now and they're already causing trouble. It's been an adjustment for everyone, he knew it would be, it's been hard for him as well.

Not that Soarynn has been difficult, on the contrary, she's been nothing but obedient, not saying a word unless spoken to. It's Livia who's been posing a problem for all of them, making this transition much more difficult. When she's not screaming at him, she's dragging Soarynn around, doing everything in her power to make the girl miserable.

Soarynn takes it like she should, not complaining one bit. Still, it's not helping any of the underlying tension in his household, so in an attempt to dissolve some of it, he's decided that they'll do the bedding ceremony tonight.

He just has to tell Livia.

"What are their offenses?" He asks, pinching the bridge of his nose to prevent a growing headache he can already feel forming. At twenty-six, he often feels like he's sixty-six, expected to be wise beyond his years in all aspects of his job.

"One was caught trying to escape, two were caught trying to steal from their households, and the last three were caught outside of their quarters after curfew, and they resisted when the Man of the House tried to escort them back to their quarters."

Why must these women be so difficult?

He shoots Quintus a look, this was his idea after all but the majority of any issue will fall on Coriolanus. He always takes the brunt of the heat. Quintus shakes his head, "So shameful, after all we've given them they're already set on ruining this great opportunity."

Many of the men in his study nod, "How should we proceed sir?"

Coriolanus drums his fingers on his desk, it's only been three days and already they're having issues. He can only imagine what will happen later down the road once the Handmaids are taking part in the bedding ceremony.

Resentment will shoot through the roof.

"Execute them, bring in new ones for those households, we'll have a public hanging, send a message to the others."

"Very good sir."

They've hung a few Handmaids already due to them causing disruptions at the holding centers, making sure to discourage any of the others from trying to fight back.

This will be a good spectacle.

"How many Handmaids have been bedded already?" He asks, looking at no one in particular for an answer. He's met with an uncomfortable silence, some of these men have a Handmaid of their own. Perhaps their lack of trying makes them feel emasculated.

He gives a small smirk, "No shame in not doing it yet, not even I've been able to sink my teeth into my Handmaid yet." That seems to do the trick in relaxing everyone. A few men chuckle while letting out a relieved sigh, "I believe about fifty Handmaids have been bedded sir," one of them answers.

His eyebrows shoot up, that's much more than he expected, by the end of the month every Handmaid should have gone through the bedding ceremony.

No exceptions.

"Well, after tonight, it'll be fifty-one," he tells them proudly. If Soarynn is the same in the bedroom as she is everywhere else, this will go off without a hitch. There's a knock at the doors, loud and persistent which means it must belong to Livia.

"Come in," he calls, sitting back in his chair.

Sure enough, Livia walks in as if she's the most important person in the room, paying his advisors no mind with her chin held high. "I came to see if you'd be joining me for dinner. Or will it be another late night of handling your Handmaids?" Her snarky tone causes his nostrils to flare, how this woman can so blatantly disrespect him in front of his employees is beyond him.

She ought to be put back in her place.

"Actually, tonight I will be handling my Handmaid," he informs her, "we'll be completing the bedding ceremony."

Her snarky attitude quickly dissipates when hearing that news. She might have hoped that he'd be repulsed at the thought of sleeping with another woman besides his wife, but it's hardly an issue where he's concerned. Coriolanus had been in the market for someone younger for a long time, someone who could keep her mouth shut and her legs spread.

Now he has her, and he even has the key to her room.

"I see, well I'll have to let her know, help her get prepared with the bedding garme-"

"You're not invited," he cuts her off coldly, clasping his hands, "I've decided that your presence will not be required tonight, or any night for that matter. It is after all, between me and her, since you know, she can actually carry a child."

If looks could kill, he'd be a dead man.

Livia is seething with anger, with rage.

He's seen his wife angry before but this is a new level. If there weren't ten men in this room, he's sure she would have lept across the desk to stab him with a letter opener by now.

"It's a new world Liv," he tacks on the nickname just because she hates it so much, "with new rules and new roles. As my wife, you're supposed to support me, encourage me to do things on my own for the good of the family. Which includes fucking our Handmaid all night, so don't fret, I'll have the Avoxes prepare one of the guest rooms for you to sleep in tonight."

Someone covers up their laugh with a cough, it's not every day you see the President humiliate the First Lady but he's so past caring by now. He was right about one thing, it's a new world, and in this world, Snow lands on top.

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn POV

The outfit Soarynn has to wear for tonight almost feels sacrificial.

It's a sheer, white nightgown, every Handmaid will wear it on their first night with the Man of the House. They've been trained for this, for the bedding ceremony. It's more important for Handmaids like her, for virgins who will be expected to bleed on said nightgown, signifying that they forever belong to the man who took their purity.

Like a lamb to the slaughter.

Soarynn stares at her reflection in the mirror, she looks like herself but she hasn't felt like it in a very long time. One of the Avoxes had dropped off the garment after dinner was brought to her. Soarynn rarely eats with President Snow and Livia, both are busy and don't have time for her.

It's not like she says much to either of them, to begin with.

But this will be the first time she's alone with him.

With President Snow.

She attempts to make herself look as presentable as possible. She's not going for sexy, or even beautiful. She's a Handmaid, a walking womb, no one cares about how she looks while she lies there and gets defiled. But appearances matter, Aunt Eudora has said that to her girls countless times.

Her hair is normally pulled back in a bun as it's the standard protocol, but for tonight, she lets it fall around her shoulders and brushes it out. She's never cut her hair so it reaches her waist, stopping right above the small of her back. There was a time when she'd lie in the meadow and Jett would braid flowers into her hair while the birds sang above them.

Soarynn presses her hand to her mouth, muffling her sobs so no one hears her. It's not anyone would, like anyone cares about her. She braces herself against the small sink, finally letting it all out. She's so alone, so terrified in this strange place.

Her breaths turn to gasps to hyperventilating.

She's so focused on her tears that she doesn't hear Livia come into her room until she grabs her by the hair, yanking her backward. Soarynn lets out a cry, dropping the hairbrush as she's pulled back.

"Get yourself together," Livia hisses through clenched teeth, "it's bad enough you're his whore, but crying? No one feels sorry for you, do you understand me?"

When Soarynn doesn't immediately respond, she's shoved to the ground, the tile bites at her knees.

"I can make your life here very difficult," Livia threatens, looking down at Soarynn with no sympathy in her eyes. "Coriolanus might be my husband, he might be the Man of the House, but I am the one you answer to. And I promise that I will do everything in my power to make sure that you're miserable at all hours of the day."

"I don't even know you," Soarynn whispers, wishing she just kept her mouth shut but it's hard. She expects Livia to slap her but instead, she just smirks, "I know that you are nothing but a lowly, poor-bred, District whore who is going to bring my baby into this world for me and once you do," Livia leans down, "I'll make sure that you're gone for good."

Livia stands back up, wiping her hands on her skirt, "Now, my husband is upstairs in our bedroom, he expects you to behave yourself as do I. Do not keep him waiting."

She doesn't wait for a response, just walks out of the bathroom, leaving Soarynn on the floor. Soarynn quickly wipes her tears away, she can't have the President seeing her like this. If Livia is telling the truth about getting rid of her after the baby comes, then she's going to have to make sure it doesn't come for a very long time.

She's heard the President say the same phrase a couple of times since her arrival, 'Snow lands on top.' He says it like it's a promise, like he has to land on top no matter what the cost.

But as Soarynn pushes herself to her feet, she stares back at the mirror, deciding that this time, Soarynn will land on top.

꧁ ꧂

It's a long, confusing walk to the President's bedroom.

Soarynn almost gets lost on the second floor of the President's Mansion, a place she has not yet been permitted to see. It's as lavish as the rest of the house and she feels out of place up here too. She passes many, many doors before she starts to worry that she might be lost.

And wouldn't that be a terrible way to start tonight? Being late?

She's starting to lose hope when out of the shadows, an Avox comes into view. Soarynn nearly jumps out of her skin, still getting used to their silent prescence. They bring her meals, but obviously, they don't say much. It could be worse, she tells herself, you could lose your tongue.

She's also on her way to lose her virginity, so maybe there's no real winning scenario here.

The Avox gives her a small nod and points at the last set of doors at the end of the hallway. Soarynn perks up, that's the bedroom. "Oh, thank you," she whispers, giving a tight-lipped smile. She has no idea what the servants think of her or her situation, but she feels no need to be unnecessarily rude for no reason, not in a world like this.

She silently pads down the hallway until she's standing right in front of the double doors that will lead to her being defiled. Perhaps if she just blocks him out, it won't be so bad. She's suddenly very glad that Livia won't be here for this, it would only add to the humiliation.

Soarynn raises her fist, gently knocks on the wooden door, and waits with her head lowered as a sign of respect.

Aunt Eudora spoke to the girls about what it would be like, how there would be pain, how it was imperative that they lie there for at least five minutes to make sure not a drop was wasted. Soarynn wishes she didn't eat dinner because she might just throw up right now.

Aunt Eudora is supposed to visit tomorrow. She’s supposed to “check on how things are going.” Which is a fancy way of saying that she’s going to make sure Soarynn is no longer a virgin and ignoring her duties as a Handmaid.

The doors finally open and she’s staring down at his shiny black leather shoes. Soarynn has only seen President Snow in passing since she had dinner with him and his wife on the night of her arrival.

He moves through the house as if he has a million things weighing on his mind, hardly casting her a glance. She’s grateful for it, to not be the center of his attention.

“I see you found your way up here.”

“Yes, President Snow.”

He sighs, the same sigh she hears every night when he locks her bedroom door. “Come in then, no need to waste any more time.” Soarynn silently obeys him, shivering when he presses his hand to the small of her waist, guiding her into the room before he shuts the doors.

Soarynn looks around the President’s bedroom and finds it to be everything she expected. Ornate, lush, lavish, perfectly decorated without a thing out of place.

The sheets on his bed are white.

They will soon be red.

“What happened to your knees?”

Oh. She forgot about her knees which are now bruised.

If he wanted to, he could accuse her of being with another man, getting down on her knees to pleasure him even though it would be impossible. The only other men in the Mansion are Peacekeepers, who can be replaced as easily as she can.

And despite how terrible of a person President Snow is for letting all of this happen, for doing this to her, he doesn’t seem like an unreasonable man.

“I fell,” she lies.

Lying is bad. Lying can get you punished. Whipped, stung by a cattle prod, or forced to go without food for days. All of these things Soarynn has witnessed at other Handmaid’s expense.

Lucy Gray went through all of it. Starved, whipped, stung, beaten. They never broke her spirit though.

Soarynn doesn’t know if she had one to begin with.

“My wife can be a rather difficult creature to get along with,” he says, calling her out on her lie, “she wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of having Handmaids come to Panem.”

“Neither was I,” Soarynn replies, clamping her mouth shut once she realizes what she’s said, what she’s done.

When he doesn’t say anything, Soarynn dares to look up at him, her heart almost breaks out of her chest when instead of a scowl, she sees a smirk residing on his handsome face.

“You’ve been so well-behaved, I knew there had to be a fiery side somewhere inside of you.”

Soarynn is at a loss for words.

"No matter," he shakes his head, "you're here for one thing and one thing only." Soarynn can feel her throat closing up, she's known that this was coming for a long, long time but now that it's happening, she doesn't know how she's going to go through with it.

if Livia were a good wife and followed the rules, she'd hold Soarynn down while her husband assaulted her. Soarynn will have to be brave and indifferent tonight, forcing herself to lie there and take it.

President Snow walks over to a small table pressed against the wall, Soarynn can see what looks like a jewelry box, and a small dish for other tiny things. Every night since she got here, she's held the marble Jett got for her in her hand before putting it back in her trunk. She's allowed to have it, but she's still scared that they might take it away.

Soarynn wonders if President Snow likes small things.

He takes off his cufflinks, tossing them onto the dish before he begins to work on his tie. President Snow is still dressed for work. She thought he might already be undressed when she arrived, but he's a proper man who does things properly.

"Your Aunt will be coming to visit tomorrow, I'm sure you'll give her a flawless report." That's an order if she's ever heard one.

"Yes, President Snow."

Technically, a Handmaid can be removed from a household in cases of abuse or mistreatment. But Soarynn knows how this will go for all of them, how this system will treat them. If it's a system and it's in Panem, then she already knows that it's not in her favor.

Aside from Livia's outbursts, she's been treated rather well for someone who was taken from her home and forced to join an essential breeding program.

He leaves his necktie on the table, looking at her from over his shoulder, "You've never been with a man before?" Soarynn meekly shakes her head, while Jett was certainly friendly, there was never a kiss, only the occasional hug.

He smirks, "Then you'll be in for quite the experience, virgins are always the tightest, squirming around with nowhere to go." It's like he wants her to throw up.

"Aunt Eudora has thoroughly prepared me for the bedding ceremony," she tells him, her voice wavering. He scoffs a laugh, turning back to face her, "Telling you what to expect means nothing, the Handmaids mean nothing."

Then why do you need us so badly? She wants to ask him.

He slowly walks over to her and Soarynn instinctively takes a step back, then another, and another until the back of her knees hits the bed. Oh goodness. He looms over her, so tall with broad shoulders. Soarynn can't help but look up at him, he's very handsome, even if he's the worst man in the world he's so handsome.

He's also seven years older than her.

President Snow stares down at her with such a critical gaze, she almost wants to look away. His eyes are such a bright blue, nearly blinding yet calming at the same time, like the ocean. She's going to drown in his eyes and not in a romantic way.

Soarynn thinks back to what Livia said about getting rid of her after the baby comes. If she wants to survive, she has to pick a side. Soarynn had hoped that Livia would be on her side since she's also a woman, but it's been made very clear that Livia views herself as above Soarynn and the rest of the Handmaids.

Which is a shame, because she's still a woman, she'll always be seen as less than.

So she's forced to pick his side, which might be more dangerous than she anticipated. President Snow is the most powerful man in the world, and right now, he wants one thing: a child.

Probably a boy from what she's gathered, an heir to carry on his legacy for him. If she can give him that, then she might stand a chance at a better life. Aunt Eudora mentioned it once or twice, how Handmaids who gave their households babies would be rewarded.

Soarynn parts her lips, unsure of what to say, Aunt Eudora never mentioned the small talk aspect of the bedding ceremony. But if she wants to play her cards right, play this game right, then she should probably play the damsel in distress.

"I'm nervous," she whispers, not even needing to feign a look of fear because she's terrified right now. Soarynn thought he might offer her some kind words, but instead, his lips curl into a most venomous smile, like he's a snake.

"You should be."

President Snow wastes no time in grabbing a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back to the point of pain. Soarynn gasps when she feels his lips on the tender skin of her neck, this is not what Aunt Eudora prepared her for.

Soarynn closes her eyes, unfamiliar with the strange sensation of a man's lips on her neck. These aren't gentle kisses, no, they're aggressive, harsh kisses that will undoubtedly leave bruises on her neck for the next week or so.

Livia will love that.

When he pulls away, her eyes flutter open, staring back up at him and for a moment, she understands why Livia doesn't want to share. It must be the hormones talking, she should hate this man right now.

His stare is impenetrable and impossible to read but they flick down to her lips and he leans down. Soarynn braces herself for the kiss, closing her eyes.

Her lips part and he shoves his thumb into her mouth. 

She freezes. 

This wasn’t part of the training, none of this was. All those months of Aunt Eudora droning on and on about how to please a man, how to be good for a man. 

She never mentioned this. 

Soarynn thought she knew what to expect, she thought it would be done by the books. He’d bed her, she’d bleed, they’d make a child. 

Simple. 

Not simple. 

Coriolanus Snow does not play by the book. He ignores the rules because he’s the one who makes them. 

She can see it now in his bright blue eyes, how allured he is by her, something new, something shiny. Another trophy to put on his shelf and claim as his. 

She should be quiet. 

Submissive. 

That’s what she should be. 

But what does he want? 

She thought an heir but it seems to be an afterthought right now with her in this sheer white dress, fully available to him.

This is all a game to him, it’s fun, it’s new, it’s fresh and sexy and even though Soarynn is terrified, she knows what she has to do, who she has to be. 

A mistress. 

And while she cannot be it, for she is only a Handmaid, she can certainly play it. 

She wraps her lips around his thumb and his eyes darken, flickering with something sadistic and evil inside of them. 

If Soarynn had to guess, he does not do this with his wife. He doesn’t even like his wife. She doesn’t even like him. 

She may be young but it seems like a pointless marriage for both parties. Perhaps there’s something more important that she can’t see or understand. She is, after all, a Handmaid. 

Not here to think, she reminds herself, here to serve. 

And serve she shall. Soarynn continues sucking on his thumb, maintaining eye contact the entire time which is the right thing to do based on the groan he lets out. He pulls the digit out of her mouth and shoves her onto the bed. Soarynn lies there, with her hair sprawled out around her head like a golden halo.

The angel and the devil.

He crawls on top of her, hastily unbuttoning his shirt and Soarynn can't help but take in his physique. She expected him to be more...soft. But he's hard and toned with a sculpted abdomen. maybe this is a blessing in disguise. It must be better than being a Handmaid for someone who doesn't care about keeping trim.

Coriolanus Snow is a sight for sore eyes.

"You're surprised," he notes, tossing his shirt onto the floor. Soarynn blinks up at the very perceptive man, he notices everything.

"I am," she agrees. She's also surprised that he's getting this naked with her. Men are never expected to fully unclothe. But this is a game and he's going to want to play it the right way.

Soarynn can play it too.

She dares to rest a hand on his bare shoulder, he feels so strong, "I suppose I'm luckier than the other girls," she says breathlessly, it's not hard with her heart racing. President Snow chuckles, shaking his head, "There are some men here that I would also be glad to avoid."

This man might be the most puzzling person she's ever met. He's entirely aware of the gravity of this situation, of the Handmaid Program, and how horrible it is, and yet, he continues it.

You have to be a very evil person to act this way.

Soarynn ought to be careful around him, playing with fire can often lead to getting burned.

Soarynn surprises him by pulling on his shoulder, closing the distance between them, "Then I'm so lucky to be yours," she purrs. Whatever he wants from her, he just got it based off of the look in his eyes. Entirely possessive.

"Spread your legs," he instructs.

Soarynn swallows, she almost forgot why she came up here in the first place. She does as she's told, spreading her legs for the Man of the House, the man who's about to defile her no matter how much she acts like she wants it.

His hand goes to unbuckle his belt, thick and heavy. He could hit her with it, tie her hands, shove it between her teeth.

He could kill her.

But he just tosses it on the floor too. Next comes his pants, and Soarynn can feel the tension between them. She chooses to look up at the ceiling, noting how there are carvings here as well. Does every room in the Capitol have intricate carvings on the ceiling? Hers doesn't.

She hears him unzip, the some rustling.

Perhaps it's only the important rooms that have these carvings.

His hand slides under her dress, groping her breasts, pinching her nipples.

Does his study have these carvings as well?

His large, cold, hand slides down her stomach, stopping right above her most intimate area. "I wonder how tight of a fit it'll be," he muses with a dark chuckle. "Lift up your dress, I want to see you bleed all over me."

Whatever he wants.

Soarynn pulls the fabric up to her breasts, the dress has to stay on whether he likes it or not for tonight.

She feels his fingers between her folds, rubbing up and down. Soarynn has never touched herself down there, but now she's grown numb to men poking and prodding her. Before she came to the Capitol, they used lasers to remove any hair down there. Something about being clean for the men in the Capitol.

His finger bumps against a sensitive spot and she jumps, pulled out of the dissociative bubble she put herself in. "Like that?" He teases, pressing harder against the sensitive nub. Soarynn whimpers, she knows she doesn't want it, but her body has a mind of its own.

His other hand comes to rest on her stomach, holding her down while he plays with her like a toy. Soarynn does her best to keep still, only her legs shake from the stimulation. Thankfully, he's more focused on his own pleasure right now because his fingers disappear and are soon replaced by something much bigger and more daunting.

His cock.

He slaps the tip against her entrance, Soarynn sneaks a look and pales at the sight of it. He's going to tear her apart.

Soarynn doesn't know what else she needs to do right now except lie there and take it, so she does just that, holding still while he slowly slides into her cunt. Her eyes squeeze shut at the painful stretch, it feels as if he's ripping her walls apart. She grits her teeth and fists her dress so tightly between her fingers.

She thought he might take things slowly but instead he, snaps his hips forward, burying himself inside of her.

Soarynn cries out, arching her back from the pain.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

Soarynn lies there in a daze, anything he says to her goes in one ear and out the other as he begins to pound into her at such a harsh, forceful pace. Like he wants to break her in half.

The bedding ceremony is supposed to be slow the first time, sacred.

Nothing about being raped is sacred.

A tear rolls down her cheek while he continues his pace, clearly determined to reach his own peak at a swift pace. His other hand comes to rest on the side of her face, wiping away the tear, "Crying? Surely it can't be that bad," he taunts.

Soarynn sniffles, surprised at her own restraint and ability to keep still despite the burning intrusion between her legs. "It's fine," she croaks out. His thumb finds its way back into her mouth, giving her something else to focus on besides his cock breaking back into her cunt over and over again.

She has to mind her teeth so she doesn't bite his thumb off because she's blinded by the pain.

Aunt Eudora is a liar, she said it would be a swift pinch.

This is a hard punch.

"So tight," he pants, picking up the speed in which he fucks her, "so young and pure, all mine aren't you?" He pulls his thumb out of her mouth, a string of spit is attached to it and he wipes it off on her cheek.

"Yes," she gasps, a foreign feeling inside of her beginning to build, "I'm yours President Snow."

He groans, loud and low, "Say that again."

Soarynn is so fucking out of it, she doesn't even know exactly what he wants her to repeat.

"I'm yours President Snow," she says again, adding a more sultry tone.

He shakes his head, thrusts beginning to stutter, "Just the last part," he orders.

Oh.

"President Snow," she gasps, a wire inside of her is pulled taut.

"Again," he barks out, his cock pulses inside of her cunt.

"President Snow," she moans, her walls flutter around his cock.

They both cum at the same time, unheard of in the Handmaid Program since a man's pleasure is always a top priority. But she cums right alongside him, crying out in pain that her body mistakes for pleasure.

He buries himself deep inside of her, making sure not to waste a drop of what could potentially become his future heir. Soarynn pants, her legs are trembling, the adrenaline is wearing off and the pain is ebbing in.

"So good," he praises, grabbing her waist with both hands, "my little whore."

Ouch.

Soarynn bats her lashes up at him, despite the pain and emptiness she feels within her, she must play her part. "I'm yours," she whispers, smiling when he presses his thumb hard against her hipbone, "President Snow," she adds.

"I knew you'd be a sweet little secret," he says, rubbing his thumb over the same spot, "the virgins always are." Soarynn decides that it's now or never to get to know him a little better, to get on his side, "Does your wife call you President Snow?"

He laughs. He fucking laughs like she just told the funniest joke in the world.

"I usually hope my wife doesn't talk at all," he tells her plainly.

Soarynn pushes herself up onto her elbows, the sexy mistress must stay vigilant, "Then it's a good thing I'm here now." She could get in so much trouble for this. For speaking without permission, for speaking ill of his wife, for doing any of this really.

He grins, giving her waist a squeeze, "Let's see if you've served your one true purpose."

Ah, yes, getting pregnant.

He pulls out slowly, almost at an agonizing pace and Soarynn can't peel her eyes away. She feels empty once he's pulled out, and sore, very, very sore. His cock is big, long, and girthy, no wonder it hurt so much. She can see a mixture of their cum, along with traces of blood.

His stare is fixed entirely between her legs, she must've bled a lot.

"Stay here," he instructs, leaving her with no room to argue.

So Soarynn lies there, legs spread, bleeding, defiled.

Forever his.

Tears prickle at the corners of her eyes and she's quick to blink them away. She can cry later, in the privacy of her own room. She hears the shower turn on, of course, he'd want to shower.

She doesn't know how long she lies there, maybe minutes, maybe hours.

Eventually, she hears him come back into the room, fresh and squeaky clean after raping her.

From her view on the bed, it looks like he's holding in his hand, something like, like a camera.

"This will be a night to remember for you," he tells her, leaning forward with the camera in hand. Soarynn closes her eyes when she hears the 'click' of him taking a photo of her bleeding all over his bed, aimed directly at her spread legs.

Your face isn't even in it, she tells herself.

"Crawl up to here," he points to the top of the bed. Soarynn can only do as she's told. It hurts to sit up fully, but now she can see the blood that's stained her dress and the sheets.

There's a lot of it.

Soarynn rolls onto her hands and knees, crawling up to the pillows where he's now sitting, a piece of paper in his hands. When she gets closer, she can see that it's the photo he just took of her, still developing from the looks of it.

"You have a camera?" She asks, ignoring the pain that shoots throughout her entire body. He nods, setting the photo down on the nightstand, "It's rather old-fashioned." She still finds it interesting, Soarynn has never owned a camera, never saw one in Twelve.

"Can I take a picture?"

It's a bold question, so bold that he gives her a sharp look, "What would you take a picture of?"

His words cut deep, he's right, she's a Handmaid, she's a nobody with no prospects.

She also needs to play the part.

"Of you," she mumbles, pretending to look embarrassed which isn't difficult. His stern expression slightly melts, Livia must not take a lot of pictures of him. "Just one," he decides.

Soarynn smiles, it's not as hard to pretend to be excited about getting to use the camera. He hands it over to her and shows her which button to press. "Why won't you lay down, and I can take it from above?"

He shockingly complies, lying down on his bed, resting his head on a pillow. Soarynn straddles him, ignoring how sensitive she is down there, and how her dress has a red stain on it.

She brings the camera up to her eye and does her best to line up the shot. He stares up at her, in charge even when he's under her. Soarynn decides to level the playing field and take a risk by laying her hand on his chest, clearly her hand, not Livia's.

She snaps the picture before he can say anything, a flash goes off, his eyes widen. "I hope it's not blurry," she says, sliding off of him, watching the photograph come out of the camera. President Snow takes it out, holding it between his thumb and index finger, "Either way you can keep it." Soartynn furrows her brows, perhaps she misread the situation, "Livia would lose her mind if she found this," he explains, "she's not too fond of you if you can't tell."

Soarynn could continue this conversation, tell him how abusive his wife has been to her, but she can see in his eyes that he's exhausted. From today and from his marriage. So instead, she holds the camera out to him, "Take one of me?"

He breaks into a boyish grin, clearly thrilled at the idea of taking these secret photos that his wife will never discover. He has Soarynn lie down where he was just laying. But he has her take off her dress, baring her breasts and the rest of her naked body to him.

Soarynn poses for the camera to the best of her ability never having taken a photo of herself before. He takes quite a few, holding her breast in one, shoving his thumb into her mouth in another.

It's such a twisted web she's gotten herself tangled in.

Thrilling yet terrifying, such a delicate line she's walking.

He eventually tires from the photos, lying back down beside her. If he weren't her captor, this might feel romantic, and domestic. Their shoulders touch and Soarynn listens to his breaths, they're slowing down, he's falling asleep, or trying not to.

"Tell me about Twelve," he finally says, breaking the silence.

"I thought you knew everything about Twelve."

"I don't know about you."

He has a point. What he knows about Twelve is what he's been told by the Mayor and Peacekeepers, not a local miner.

So she starts talking, and she talks for a long time.

And he listens.

꧁ ꧂

An hour must have passed since Soarynn told him a little bit about herself and her life in Twelve. Her eyes are just beginning to drift closed when his voice brings her back to life.

“I suppose you know your way back,” he says nonchalantly, sitting up which leads her to sit up as well. Soarynn cards a hand through her hair, tangled and messy. 

For someone who just lost her virginity, she looks like she had a grand old time. 

If only that were the case. 

She knows that once she returns to her room, then she can properly cry. Until then, she must play her part, she must play the alluring mistress. The girl who thinks he’s the most important person in the world because he is. 

Coriolanus Snow is so important and yet he’s absolutely miserable in his marriage. 

He’s not even wearing his wedding ring right now. 

And that's when it hits her. She knows exactly what he wants. 

Power. 

He has none in his marriage. 

Having power over Soarynn means something to him, even if it’s not a lot, it’s still something. Which also means that she has power if she can give it to him. 

At least, that’s what she tells herself. 

Livia certainly doesn’t have power. Even if she’s Capitol-born, she’s still a woman and Soarynn knows enough to know that women have no power in Panem. 

Capitol, District, Handmaid. All just words men have created to divide them further. 

“I’m not staying the night?” 

Coriolanus laughs, he laughs and throws his head back. For a moment he doesn’t look like an evil dictator, but a handsome young man who just took her to bed. 

“Livia would skin you alive. Besides, it’s not protocol. I can’t bend the rules for anyone, not even my own Handmaid.” 

Ah, there it is. Back to where they started, or well, acting like they’re back to where they started. The dynamic might shift in the bedroom, but outside of these four walls, she’s only the Handmaid, silent and mindless. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asks, pretending to be hopeful. Seeing anyone but Livia is a win in her book but seeing him means another chance to dig towards her freedom, or something besides what this is right now. 

Coriolanus shakes his head, staring down at the sheets that are now slightly stained with her blood, “I’ll be gone for most of the day. You’ll keep Livia company.” 

Soarynn does her best to look excited. “Perhaps one night she could join us,” she offers, remembering what Aunt Eudora said. “A child cannot grow in your womb if it’s aware of what’s going on outside of it. Family turmoil is a one-way ticket to a miscarriage girls.” 

These people are terrible people and Soarynn knows that should anything happen to a baby inside of her, they’d offer her little to no comfort or support. 

They’d pin the whole thing on her. 

“I don’t think she will,” he answers, his voice laced with exhaustion and it’s not from raping her. 

That’s what he did. 

He. Raped. Her. 

And she’s sitting next to him as if nothing has happened. 

“Well, goodnight President Snow,” she says, “thank you for tonight, I’ve learned a great deal.” 

He grins, a boyish grin that makes her heart flutter for merely a second before it goes back to normal, “You’ll crave it more and more,” he promises her, “we’ll be seeing more of each other, anything for the heir.”

His heir.

At the end of the day, that’s what he’s after. Not love or power. 

A future. A legacy. An heir. 

“Anything for the heir,” she repeats mindlessly while slipping out of the bed. Her legs shake and she’s sore all over but she makes her way out of the President’s bedroom and into the hallway. 

Nothing but a Handmaid.

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus POV

Coriolanus sits in the aftermath of what most occurred. He reeks of sex. And he likes it. 

He never knew that there could be such a thrill in taking one’s virginity. 

When it came to taking Livia’s, he was expected to be kind and gentle and he’d neither of those things. But with Soarynn, he could be his true self. 

She certainly wasn’t. 

Timid, yes. Scared, absolutely. But he saw that switch go off in that pretty little head of hers, how quickly she played into his little fantasy. 

She’s more clever than she’s given credit for. She’s also a good time so he’ll let her play out her own little fantasy for now, let her think he cares, that he’s different than the rest. 

He’s not left to linger with his thoughts for long though. Livia bursts through the doors with a haughty pace, already flooding the room with her misery and goodness knows that it loves company. 

“Already fucked your little whore? Did she bleed all over you like you imagined in your dreams?” Livia's tone is so bratty that he genuinely thinks about backhanding her just for the fun of it. 

Instead, he remains calm and collected. You can’t beat fire with fire. 

He’s tried that already and they both got burned. 

“Of course she did,” he answers, pulling the covers back over his lap, showing the dried blood for her to see, “I had her get on top.” 

It’s remarkable how fast Livia’s face falls. Countless times she’s tried to be on top but he’s never gone for it. 

He likes being in control too much. And a little white lie never hurt anybody, Soarynn will never be on top, and Livia, will be none the wiser.

It’s a good thing Soarynn is here now. Livia will constantly be comparing herself to Soarynn, comparing how he interacts with the two of them. 

And Soarynn will do the same with Livia. 

While Livia will envy Soarynn’s youth, her ability to produce children and be with him intimately, Soarynn will envy Livia’s freedom and her ability to call Coriolanus her own, to flaunt that diamond ring on her finger. 

He’s pitting fire against fire. 

He wonders who will get burned first. 

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| Part 2. |

{ Part 3. }

| taglist: @lovelylove268 @kickmybark @iswearicanfixhim @wonderlandbound111 @melodyoflovee @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @erensrealgf @evilmenarehot @cervvsq @snowgirl12 @matcha-muses @anisangeldust |

[phone4pills]

NUTCRACKER DAY 3

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ slow’s advent calendar! no warnings apart from nerves and cringy dancing, but we all love ballerina!Reader

Behind the stage, there was an overwhelming buzz in the atmosphere. Girls were circling around you, running from one place to another and back again. Costumes. Makeup. Hair. Pointe shoes. Practice. Lighting. Sound. It was all so much to handle and your brain was becoming foggy with the thoughts that practically sprinted and hurdled around your mind.

“Six minutes before opening. First call!” The blood rushed through your head when the speakers rung to let you know how close it was until you’d have to get on that stage in front of thousands of people. You hurried into the dressing room, searching your shoulder bag for your phone. You quickly hit Chris’ contact. Your shoulders relaxed when you found that he’d already texted you. You didn’t think you’d text him otherwise.

Chris

How you doin’ back there, flower?

Chris, I’m really nervous.

Give me a minute the crowd is massive.

Not helpful :|

Sorry :(

You waited a couple minutes, eventually hearing a knock at the door. You opened it to find yourself boyfriend, Chris in the doorway. He had a suit black shirt and pink backwards hat on. You knew he’d refuse to wear a suit the one night you actually wanted him to. It’s as if he knew what you were thinking because he retorted, “Y’know I look cute.”

“Whatever, Chris. I’m really stressed out. What if I fuck up?” You shook your head, pulling him into the dressing room with an exaggerated huff. He tutted, taking a seat on one of the sofas and pulling you into his lap and stroking your thigh with utmost care.

“You won’t. Every time I’ve come to your house you’ve been practicing. I mean, I haven’t really seen you without those pointe shoes in months!” You realised how right he was. You’d been practicing like there was no tomorrow. The steps were basically engraved int you, and your muscle memory was… well, impressive. To say the least. But that was when you were in the comfort of your own home, or the studio. Now you’d be on a stage in front of a crowd that wasn’t even imaginable in your head. And you couldn’t pretend they were all pineapples, there would never be that many pineapples in a room together.

Chris noticed how your hands shook, and when they weren’t shaking they were fidgeting with your tutu, or picking at your tights. He felt bad, knowing how much pressure was in you when it came to playing Clara. It was the biggest part you’d landed in your entire career. Luckily, he had an idea.

“Hey, you remember when you first danced the Nutcracker? In eighth grade? You were the sugar plum fairy. And you’d forced me to spot you for hours?” Your eyes lit up, remembering your teenage self who was so dedicated to perfecting ever single step. Every detail. From the first toe to hit pointe to the highest finger on either hand. And you could vividly remember when Chris had had enough and threw you over his shoulder before taking you to your bed and warning you not to leave it again for the next hour.

The welcoming music snapped you out of your thoughts, playing quietly in the background from the speakers on the stage. That meant everyone was seated already. “3 minutes before opening. Second call!” You heard from the hallway. Chris hoisted you up in a rush, pulling you close. He began to rock side to side, dancing lousily. You giggled, laying your head on his shoulder as the two of you moved around the dressing room to the notes of the piano that were barely ringing through the walls.

After a mere minute, he was spinning you away from him. And you pirouetted with little effort. The smile that spread across his face was heartwarming. You looked so gorgeous just turning in your baby pink costume, gold adornments gleaming under the warm lights.

“One minute before opening. All dancers in positions. Final call!” You gave Chris a kiss, and the two of you swiftly left the dressing room, he sped down to the audience’s seats while you made your way towards the left entrance. In that moment you knew it. You felt it. You were ready. And then the lights came on and the music pulled you onto stage.

Thank you for opening this part of the calendar, there will be more to come ! In the meantime, you guys should tell me about your Christmas. Also I love ballerina!Reader so credits to anyone who writes for her. I might do more but this is to for now. ALSO THIS IS NOT PROOF READ, sorry for any mistakes.

- ©phone4pills

[blue--ingenue]

soft!sebastian headcannons - Christmas edition

Author's Note: happy holidays to all who celebrate! i've been making decorations and gathering gifts for my friends, and these thoughts have been floating around and demanding that i write them down :)

when he was little his parents told him that Santa Claus put coal into the stockings of naughty children. a few days before Christmas he and Anne were playing gobstones when she beat him in record time, and he swears she cheated. his twin denied this, of course, but he decided to take justice into this own hands. after everyone had gone to bed, little Seb had toddled downstairs to the fireplace. his magic was beginning to come in spurts; there wasn’t enough of it to channel through a wand, but his power sensed what he was trying to do and obliged. he watched as a still-smoldering chunk of coal floated over to Anne’s stocking, plopped inside, and promptly set it ablaze. nobody was harmed in the incident, but his parents later dedicated hours charming every inch of the house to be fireproof

once, before he began officially courting you, he felt incredibly jealous on Christmas eve. the annual Slytherin holiday party had been raging for hours, and would continue for many more. you, Ominis, and Sebastian had settled onto a plush carpet before the fireplace with three mugs of eggnog spiked with cheap firewhiskey. Ominis drained half his mug in one go, and emerged with a sizeable foam mustache. he was either too drunk to notice, or didn’t care, but either way Sebastian teased him for it. his laughter quickly died off as you gently wiped the foam from his top lip and licked it from your finger. Ominis had the sense to blush profusely, but Sebastian had seethed

by the next Christmas you are several months along into your courtship. he works nightly shifts for Sirona for weeks to save up for your gift. it’s a beautiful locket made of goblin metal (he commissioned it from a goblin artisan Sirona had told him about. after fifth-year he felt ashamed of his prejudices against goblins and has been trying to better himself). he’s pasted a picture of himself inside, and the exterior has an intricate carving of the Sallow family crest

he is absolutely the type of guy to kiss you under every mistletoe within a five-foot radius. if there are none in sight, he’ll simply conjure some on the spot

he never wears a hat when it’s snowing. despite the fact that the Scottish winters are brutal and he runs the risk of catching a cold, he refuses. Ominis scolds him every time, but he thinks it’s worth it when you take the time to brush the snowflakes from his curls on your walks to Hogsmeade

he has a love-hate relationship with baking gingerbread cookies. the whole process feels too much like being in potions. his patience isn’t long enough for all the measuring, mixing, and waiting for the biscuits to bake. he’d much rather pilfer treats from the kitchens, but when he sees how excited you are he makes it his mission to like the infernal process. you’ve conjured a lovely little kitchen in the room of requirement, and he’s all too happy to enchant the piano in the corner to play Christmas melodies

he absolutely makes a mess and then chases you around the table with flour-covered hands

his favorite part is cutting the dough into shapes. your cookies are impeccable, an army of gingerbread mooncalves, snowmen, and nifflers waiting to be slid into the oven. he tries to shape his into hearts. they look alright at first, but after baking they’ve melded into a series of blobs. he’s about to tell you to throw them out when you delightedly exclaim that they look just like the little puffskeins you’ve been caring for. he calls the night a success and you fall asleep together in front of the fireplace with a now-empty cookie plate beside you

.

.

.

.

.

Taglist:@mlktea13, @mrsbrookesallow, @ithinkweallsing, @snickette, @crispywiz

[mybrain-fanficedition]

I'm typing out some notes I had for various scenarios, so enjoy!

As usual with me, click on the "see more" at your own risk.

11 year old currently platonic Drarry, good parents Lucius and Narcissa; Lucius is pissed at Dumbledore

Harry spends the day at Draco's house. Lucius and Narcissa have gone out. Draco has been impressing Harry with his lavish stuff all day. They decided to play that game where a ball is on a string on around a pole. Lucius and Narcissa walk back. 

"Where's Draco? I hope he hasn't been wasting money on trying to impress that Potter boy again."

Draco and Harry turn in shock, and the ball that Harry had just hit swung around to Draco's head. Draco crumpled to the ground on impact and Narcissa rushed forwards, followed by Lucius. Harry beat them to Draco, having been closer, and cradled the boy in his arms.

Narcissa picked her son up and Lucius called Dobby over yo take his wife and son to St Mungo's.

In the sudden stillness after Dobby's departure, Lucius and Harry look at each other. The ball still swung around the pole, much more gently now, emitting faint squeaks.

Harry eventually spoke up.

"Will he be alright?" he asked in a small voice.

"He should be," Lucius replied. He found, to his surprise, that his voice had become gentle like it did when he was comforting Draco, even if Harry was the farthest thing from his son.

"Dobby took them to St Mungo's."

Harry didn't show any signs of recognition. Lucius knew he was 11, same as his son, but the boy standing infront of him seemed so small, so fragile. He was practically swimming in his clothes and his arms were so skinny, Lucius wondered if he'd ever gotten a proper meal.

"What's St Mungo's, sir?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"It's Britain's finest hospital. Have you really never been? All wizards go there, for whatever reason."

Was the boy muggleborn? This surely couldn't be Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the boy who had defeated the dark lord, asking him what St Mungo's was.

"I've never been, no. My parents-" he faltered. Lucius flinched internally. The boy didn't know that he had had a small hand in their demise. "My parents were wizards, but they died because of Voldemort. I live with my aunt and uncle, and my cousin. They're muggles."

Harry did not seem to have noticed Lucius' shudder at Voldemort's name.

"Even so, you're the savior of the wizarding world! I'm sure your family could have told you about your past and your parents' world. Dumbledore may be... someone with whom I do not get along with, but I'm sure he would have told them who they were raising."

"He did. They think I'm a burden, and they thought that by raising me as a muggle, they would make me... 'normal'," Harry explained matter-of-factly, as if this weren't a huge revelation into Dumbledore's choices.

"Did Dumbledore know what they decided to do instead of educating you?" Lucius asked. Maybe he was biased, and Dumbledore had just expected the boy to be able to grow up out of the spotlight.

"I don't know, but my Hogwarts was correctly addressed, so he probably knew yes."

Lucius tilted his head.

"Correctly addressed?" he echoed.

"The letter was addressed to Mr H. Potter, the Cupboard under the Stairs-... What's wrong Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco's father had turned red. Harry wondered if he had said something wrong.

"Dumbledore knew you were kept in a cupboard and he still left you there??!"

Harry shrugged and nodded wordlessly. Lucius stared at him, then decided to take action.

"Come in," he ordered, as if he weren't expecting anything but immediate obediance.

Harry complied, confused.

They walked through the manor quickly, but no so quickly that Harry didn't have time to look around. From the court he and Draco had been playing in, they went through some large French doors into what appeared to be a music room. There was a large piano in the middle of the room, and a harp and a cello on either side of it. There were plenty of closed cases- the smallest resembling a wand box, the largest almost the size of his cupboard- which he figured held more instruments.

Lucius strode through that room with Harry scampering to keep up, and they passed through a hallway lined with pictured. As they went down the hallway, Harry could see that most of the pictures featured Draco. Some were just him, some were him and Narcissa, him and Lucius, all three... Some pictures had other family members; and all of them watched Harry follow Lucius down the hall.

Harry allowed himself to imagine what his life would have been like if his parents hadn't died.

He was so deep in thought that he almost ran into Lucius, who had stopped abruptly in front of a fireplace.

"I assume given what you've told me that you've never travelled via Floo Network, correct?

"Via what?"

"I'll explain later. This is probably going to be less unsettling than apparition, especially if you've never tried it before. Take my hand."

Harry tentatively slid his small hand into Lucius's big one. With his free hand, Lucius grabbed some powder from a small bowl on the mantle.

"We're going to go through the fireplace, Harry. The fire won't hurt you; but don't let go of my hand, ok?"

Harry nodded as Lucius dropped the powder into the fire. To his surprise, the fire turned green.

"The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade," Lucius stated and stepped into the fire, pulling Harry after him.

They tumbled through the fireplaces, and Harry could see many grated going by.

They tumbled out into a cozy bar. Lucius pulled Harry and cleaned the soot off both of their clothes. A large woman approached them warily.

"May I help you, Mr Malfoy?" she asked suspiciously.

"Madam Rosemerta! Hello; no I was just passing by with Harry here. I need to see Professor Dumbledore."

Madam Rosemerta narrowed her eyes at them, lingering for a moment on Harry's scar, and motioned for them to leave.

Lucius led Harry through the village they had ended up in until they could see Hogwarts rising above them.

Lucius seemed to have forgotten how long his legs were, compared to Harry's, and Harry was forced to run to keep up with the tall man.

Lucius eventually noticed, and slowed down a little with a curt word of apology. He seemed lost in thought.

They made their way up to the imposing front doors without another word.

Professor McGonagall opened the doors to Lucius's knock.

"Hello Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter," she said, visibly surprised.

"I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore."

[What happens yet? Clearly I don't know yet lol]

Notes:

Harry knows about the wizarding world but clearly hasn't spent much time there yet; but he's probably already at Hogwarts since he already knows Draco and he was allowed to go see him. Potentially it's a school break in a Draco-and-Harry-are-friends AU and he was allowed to go see his friend for like a day, but in that case Lucius and Narcissa would probably watch over the kids.

Idk the beginning could be messed with a bit but oh well lol

[leaawrites]

Late Night Talking pt2

Ryan McMahon x fem!reader

Summary: where a childhood crush finally turns into love.

Warnings: mentions of drinking and smoking

Part 1 flopped completely, but idc. I already wrote it all, so I may as well just post it.

Part 1, Part 3, Masterlist

The lights were low. It was almost dark, except for the red-blue LED all around the place and the mirrorball hanging from the ceiling, reflecting it’s glow on the people beneath.

She stared at it, as if it was her bare existence. Every little shimmering piece pierced through her heart like a dagger. Every piece was a piece of her. One that she lost the day he left. And they were all so damn perfect. Cut out in the right shape, puzzled together and glued so they won’t fall apart again. In contradiction to her. She was falling apart as she sat down on the coach in the living room of a house she didn’t know the owner of and noticed the all too familiar boy approaching her.

“Y/n?” Elijah Hewson called out to her.

She tore her eyes away from the mirrorball and watched as the boy made his way through the crowd of people. Pushing his way towards her free. A girl, holding his hand, following him suite. Y/n watched the pair as they sat down next to her. Elijah pulled her into a side hug, while the girl only smiled at her kindly.

“If Grace hadn’t pointed you out, I wouldn’t even have noticed you,” he said, gesturing to the brunette next to him as he introduced her as Grace.

“You’re his girlfriend?” Y/n asked Grace. The girl nodded, holding out her hand for Y/n to shake. “I’m Y/n,” she introduced herself, “an old friend of the lads.”

“I know,” Grace said, making her frown in confusion. “Ryan talks non-stop about you, and he shows pictures while he does so as well. It’s basically a whole PowerPoint Presentation by now.” Grace laughed at the memory of that one time, when they were sat in the tour bus, all high and out of their mind.

Ryan was half eye-lid, floating in his own orbit until he saw her face next to his. As he reached out to touch her cheek, he was quickly pushed away by a scared Rob who was the victim of Ryan’s dreams. He mumbled her name, whining about why she didn’t love him the way he loved her.

“Yeah, Ryan is unbearable if you’re not by his side,” Eli added, looking at her like he knew that she felt the same way towards his band mate. Because, of course he knows. The stolen glances, lingering touches, hidden and subtle references in songs both parties would let slip in every now and then.

Y/n wasn’t as talented as the lads when it came to singing or playing an instrument. She played a bit piano and the guitar, but that was it. However, she was a genius when it came to song-writing. And Eli, being the unpolitical best friend of hers, was the only one who knew.

Josh would be too caught up in his own mind and trying to find a rhythm for his guitar, for him to check what and who the song was about. Bobby would just be cheeky and leave little traces of her secret all around Ryan until he knew what she was doing behind his back. And Ryan, he would know by reading them. There were memories and promises tangled in between soft chords and love confessions that only the two would understand, which made it impossible for her to show them to him. But Eli could keep quiet and he knew who it was about the second he read them.

He had tried to get both parties to confess before, but he never said anything about the songs they wrote for each other.

“Is he here?” She asked, trying not to sound too nervous about the answer. Either way, she would start to over-think. What was he doing here? Or what did he do instead of being here?

“I think I saw him outside the last time,” Grace told her.

The girls shared a look that they knew was a secret code for having each others back from now on. Y/n thanked them before walking off into the crowd, searching for the glass door in the kitchen that would - hopefully - lead her to where she wanted to go.

The humid air outside made the glass fog up. People were dancing to the Abba song that played in the background, but she was only focused on him. Ryan left with the band a few months ago, focusing on tour in America and not Ireland or even Europe. And with uni, she couldn’t go with them.

Though the worst part was how civil they parted ways. There were no fights or arguments. No one threw a tantrum that they wouldn’t see each other for a couple of months. There was nothing she could cling to that would make her hate him. There were no words that made her want to throw up and blame it on him. She couldn’t hate him and she hated that.

A cloud of white smoke swam over his silhouette as Y/n made her way outside. Ryan was sat at the pool, his shoes and socks sitting beside him, his jeans was folded up so it wouldn’t get soaked. She debated for a moment whether to go back in or sit next to him, when Ryan suddenly turned to her.

He hadn’t expected her. He didn’t know who he expected, but it definitely wasn’t her. His eyes lit up as he saw her and before he could stand up, she was already sat beside him. With her legs pulled tight against her chest, she watched him. Watched every detail that might’ve changed about him. His hair was shorter and he had grown a subtle beard, but it looked good. He looked really good.

“Hey,” she greeted him, sending a small smile his way. “I didn’t think you would be here.”

“Why not?” He asked.

They fell into their old pattern of conversation rather quickly and maybe that should’ve scared her. But it didn’t. It was Ryan. Nothing about him could scare her.

“Well, firstly I thought you were still on tour and second, what are you, new Rock star, doing on a college party in Dublin?” She asked, laughing at the weird concept of their conversation.

“Bobby knows someone and because we were all too tired to say no to him, we’re here now,” he explained, flicking part of his cigarette away.

“How are you doing?” She tried to keep the conversation up.

“Fine. Wouldn’t say particularly good. It has been quite tiring and I actually just wanna go to sleep, but I don’t have someone to drive me there,” he explained his situation, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to make the sleep disappear. “I should’ve listened to my mom when she told me not to go.”

Y/n laughed, a sense of comfort growing in her chest as she listened to the boy talk. She always loved hearing his voice close to her body, always loved having him for her alone. Not in a creepy obsessive way, but just in a way that made her feel like they were the only people in the world and he was willing to spent his left time with her.

“How is she?” She asked, not having heard from his mother in a long time.

Ryan was sleep deprived and a bit drunk, which made him forget to think before he would talk. Which lead to him saying, “Good, still insisting on knowing when we get married.”

He said it with such calm and confidence as if they have ever talked about getting married before.

“What?” Y/n asked, looking at the water rather then his eyes that seemed to be stuck on her.

“My mom always believed that we would get married at some point. I stopped denying it after we were like 15.” He blew the smoke away, watching it dance through the cold night air.

“Why did you stop denying?” She asked.

“I guess I kind of got comfortable with the though, at like 18 and at 15 I just prayed she would stop talking about it with relatives or anyone else she would talk to in a pub.” He laughed like it was nothing in his eyes.

“Do you wanna come over to mine?” Y/n asked, not seeing another way out but keeping him close. “You can sleep on the coach or whatever. It’s closer than yours, so that’s a plus.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. Standing up he was stomping his cigarette out before holding out his hand for her to take.

Together they walked out through the crowd, seeing Rob while doing so and telling him they would go - to which he only wiggled his eyebrows and patted Ryan’s back. They walked to her car without saying a word. All while holding hands. When Ryan went to the passenger side, he only noticed their interlaced fingers and laughed merely at the fact.

They drove home in utter comfortable silence.

[justsomewritingblog]

Unrequited Love (Part 3)

Request:  None

Requested By:  Nobody

Pairing:  Adrien/Cat Noir x reader (unreciprocated)

Summary:  Adrien and Y/n draw.

Warnings:  None?

A/N:  *dramatic music*

Word Count:  1K+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n wandered over to her locker, replacing her books.  She let out a breath through her mouth in a sigh.  She bowed her head and closed her eyes in defeat, shutting the locker door.

“There you are.”

Her head shot upwards, eyes growing wide.  She turned to her left, being met with green eyes.

“Oh, it’s you.”  Y/n whispered, more relaxed.

“Who else would it be?”  Adrien asked.  Y/n let out a small humorless laugh.

“Yeah.  Who else?”  She muttered under her breath.  She knew he didn’t mean it as an insult, but he could have worded it better.

“What?”  Adrien asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Nothing.  How’s Marinette?”  Y/n asked, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, she’s fine; just very clumsy.”

It seemed to work.

“I see.”  The two became silent for a moment.

“So, I’ll see if I can talk my father into letting you come over to practice piano.”  Adrien announced, breaking the slight tension.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you, or your father.”  Y/n admitted.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

~Plagg, claws out~

“Absolutely not.”

“But, father-” Adrien started to protest.

“I will not have a near stranger in this establishment.”

“But I told her I would teach her piano.”

“Well you’ll just have to tell her no, or figure something else out.”

Adrien sighed in defeat, hanging his head.

“Yes, father.”  He said, walking out and closing the door behind him.  He walked to his room and collapsed on the bed.

“Now what?”

Plagg flew out from his jacket.

“I don’t know.  He said she was a near stranger.”  The kwami noted.

“So I’ll just have to get to know her better!”  Adrien exclaimed, a huge smile on his face.  His face fell.  “How do I tell her I can’t teach her yet?”

“Be honest.”  Plagg advised.  Adrien sighed.

“But I feel like I’d be cheating her.  What if she insists on teaching me to draw when I can’t teach her piano?”

The kwami shrugged unhelpfully.  “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”  He remarked, stuffing another piece of cheese down his throat.  Adrien rolled his eyes.

“Helpful.”  He remarked sarcastically.

~Claws in~

Adrien walked up the steps to the school the next day.  He wandered around looking for any sign of Y/n.

“Where could she be?”  Adrien wondered aloud.  Plagg stuck his head out of Adrien’s jacket.

“Where does she usually hang out?”

“I don’t know.  I only met her yesterday.”

“Well, good luck.”  Plagg offered.  Adrien sighed and shook his head.  He wandered all over the school until he entered the classroom.  He looked around and saw Y/n sitting in her seat in the back, sketching.  Adrien smiled and made his way up to her.

Y/n saw his shadow and looked up, pulling the earbuds out of her ears.

“Hey.”  He greeted.

“Hello.”  She answered quietly, smiling.  Adrien sighed.

“Look, I’m sorry, but my father thinks I should get to know you better before you enter our ‘establishment’.  How lame is that?”  He explained, using quotation marks, sitting down next to her.  She smirked.

“I don’t blame him.”

Adrien looked up at her in confusion.

“Would you like a stranger in your big, expensive house with expensive things in it?”  She asked.  Adrien smiled.

“I never thought of it like that.”  He said, folding his arms on the desk in front of him.  Y/n smiled.

“Your dad’s probably just taking precautions.  We can’t be mad at him for it.”

Adrien smiled.

“You’re so understanding.”  He noted.  Her cheeks turned a shade of scarlet, but she pretended not to notice.  She hoped if she didn’t notice, he wouldn’t either.

“I’m observant.”  She clarified.  “I see things, and based on what I see, and know about that person, or thing, make a reasonable guess.  It’s really not that special.”

“If you say so.”  He said.

“So, what did you want to draw?”  She asked him.

“Oh, uh.  I don’t know.  I didn’t really think about it.”  He confessed.  Y/n looked out the window and saw a small creature fly by.

“How about a ladybug?  That’s a pretty easy start.”

Adrien looked to her and shrugged, slightly pink.

“Sure.”  He chuckled nervously.  Y/n smirked and playfully rolled her eyes.

“So, start with a circle.  For a perfect circle, place your finger and pencil down, and turn the paper.  Like this.”  Y/n advised, showing him.  He nodded and followed her guidance.  It wasn’t a perfect circle, but it was close.

“Good.”  Y/n complimented.  “Now draw a semi-circle for the head, using the same method, just don’t turn the paper all the way around.”  She showed again, and Adrien did as instructed.  Y/n looked over at his paper and smiled.

“Perfect!”  She exclaimed.  Adrien smiled down at the paper in pride.

“You think so?”

“Of course!  Now we draw spots using more circles.”  She said, drawing spots.  Adrien followed and he drew spots.  They weren’t perfect circles, but they were close enough.

“Now we draw the line for the wings when they open them.”  She explained drawing a simple line down the back of the ladybug.  Again, Adrien followed.

“Now the legs and shading.”  They drew the legs, but when it came time for shading Adrien’s pencil stopped an inch above the paper.  Y/n looked over at him.

“What’s wrong?”  She questioned.

“Just nervous.”  He admitted.  Y/n smiled softly at him.  She reached over and placed her hand atop his, pressing it gently onto the paper.

“You can’t get better if you don’t take risks.”  She advised.  Adrien nodded and began shading in the dots, head, and legs first.  Y/n smiled and glanced up at the clock, seeing 7 minutes till class.  A few people were just starting to enter.  Y/n quickly shaded in her ladybug, and shaded the paper beneath it.

2 minutes till class.  Adrien sat his pencil down and looked proudly at his paper.  He looked to Y/n’s and his eyes grew wide.

“Wow, that’s amazing, Y/n.  It looks like it’s coming off the page!”  He commented.  Y/n looked down at it and observed her own piece.

“It’s just shading below it.  Yours looks good, too.”

“Not nearly as good as yours.”

“Practice.  You’ll get better.”  She said, smiling.  She quickly glanced at the clock again.

“You’d better get to your seat.  Class is about to start.”

Adrien looked up at the clock and his eyes widened.  He quickly picked up his stuff.

“Thanks, Y/n.”  He said, holding his things.  She smiled and nodded at him.  “No problem.”

He smiled back and headed to his seat.  Y/n slid her drawing things back into her bag and pulled out her literature book, ready for class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n:  Repost!

Tag List:  @hitsugayarose, @pokengirl2, @lovableah, @1-800-starkindustrie, @jesssssmaybankk, @meikoo, @yunho-leeknow

[starrydaycare]

Hey doll! Do you mind an OMORI agere, with regressor Aubrey and caretaker Basil? Maybe when they were twelve! I headcanon her as a trauma regressor and only Basil, Mari and Sunny know. Also, with a late 90s aesthetic!

Thaaaank you for all the moodboards you make, they are all really good. (^^)

I can do that! Also, thank you (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

With filter:

Without filter:

🍀🩷Age regressor!RW Aubrey, CG!RW Basil, Pre-incident!

⚠️TW! Will contain mentions of alcoholism and neglect.

🩷Aubrey is a trauma regressor who most commonly regresses to somewhere between 5-7. Though if she had a bad day, she can regress younger! Despite her older age, she likes to use a pacifier and sippy cup for comfort reasons.

🍀She started regressing at around nine, but didn't really know what it was? She was really confused and scared the first time it happened, which was she stepped on some glass from an old bottle of her moms.

🩷She noticed that it continued happening, and for the longest time she thought that something bad was happening! So, eventually she gathered up the courage to tell Mari about it.

🍀Luckily, Mari knew exactly what it was. She was familiar with age regression, and explained to her that it was alright. The group didn't know exactly what Aubrey's home life was like, but they knew it wasn't very good. So Mari assumed it was likely due to whatever went on in Aubrey's house.

🩷Mari, as per Aubrey's wishes, promised not to tell anyone about her regression. And she kept that promise; though she assured her that no one in their group would judge her <3

🍀So she kept it a secret for a few years, until one fateful day at around twelve years old, she started feeling that familiar feeling which told her that she was regressing. Basil and Sunny were with her at the time, as Mari couldn't come (Piano lessons), Kel and Hero were both sick, so that left Sunny, Basil and Aubrey alone.

🩷Basil and Sunny could tell that something was up, but dudn't push it. They continued walking, noticing how Aubrey had been pretty quiet. Yeah. That quietness was her being regressed and attempting to hide it. Sunny recognized her regression after a moment, as he was also familiar with it! He told Aubrey that he knew, and she practically lit up like a light (/positive).

🍀Basil overheard them, and, much to her and Sunny's surprise, he also knew what it was. He was a little nervous, but wanted to help her! So they went over to the park, played a bit, and things just kinda went on from there.

🩷Basil became her primary caregiver, with Sunny and Mari babysitting at times. Basil really enjoys taking care of Aubrey when she's regressed! He was nervous and anxious at first, because he's never taken care of a kid before! But he did just fine, much to his relief.

🍀Basil likes to garden with Aubrey. He got her one of those kiddie garden sets, with kids gloves, kids outdoor toys, ect, and she likes to help him when regressed. She can't really do that much while regressed, but she can hand him stuff and watch! Often times she'll talk about her day to him, about her interests and everything. Basil loves listening to her, and gladly lets her help him.

🩷Basil's great at playing with her! He's not very good at sports, due to a lack of practice (and interest), but he'll play sports with her if she wants to do so! Most of the time they'll just color or go to the park. If the ice cream truck's outside, then they like to go get ice cream then play outside together! Aubrey likes playing with chalk and playing hopscotch. When it rains they'll either play inside, coloring and watching TV and playing with various kids toys that Mari and Sunny generously let her borrow, or they'll go outside and jump in the puddles!

🍀Aubrey opens up to Basil about her home life, how her mom isn't awake a lot unless she's drinking or working, how it's messy and smells bad... Basil helps her through it, holding her close and playing with her hair as she vents to him. He'll make sure she has her stuffed animals and anything else she may need. He's not the best cook, but can make her something yummy to snack on.

🩷Overall, Basil's a really good caregiver to Aubrey. They're very close, and Basil's always there for her.

🍀🩷🌻

[rallamajoop]

Did Ethan play the piano?

There are a bunch of little hints scattered through these games about Ethan's character. He seems to have a love for the retro ‒ at least, his drawer is full of jazz CDs and he drives a 1971 Dodge Challenger. As Rose notes, he's clearly a wine drinker. And he may have played he piano.

I don't want to overstate the hints RE7&8 give us on that last part. Resident Evil is, after all, a universe where apparently being able to bang out a full sonata at a moment's notice is just a basic life skill for anyone who might want to infiltrate a suspicious facility (though just jamming a few bars of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star may also do in a pinch).

There's a piano in the Winters' home, but then, maybe Mia's the one who plays, or maybe the BSAA set them up in an already-furnished house ‒ who knows? You can't actually interact with it as Ethan, nor does Rose comment on it. But Rose does wonder out loud if her Dad played any instruments (after he jokes about whether baby Rose banging her spoon to the Miss D. record suggests she's going to grow up to be a musician) ‒ and that at least primes you to notice that piano, if you hadn't already.

There are also two different pianos you can interact with in the Baker property ‒ one in the guest room, which will slam shut if Ethan reaches for the keys, and a second in Lucas' room that merely prompts the message 'it's broken'.

It's not until Dimitrescu's castle that Ethan himself finally gets to make like all those other Resi heros, and bash out a quick solo to open a mini door in the piano, in which you'll find a key that will open another door... look, you've heard this one before.

There's an argument to be had whether any of the puzzle solutions in a video game like RE should be taken as truly diegetic. But if nothing else, this does at least suggest Ethan can read sheet music. Here's the asset for the sheet, by the way (and again with the bit you actually play highlighted). You can hear someone play the full song ("Sogno" ‒ which means 'Dream' in Italian ‒ by Francesco Paolo Tosti) here.

There's even a version with lyrics, though I doubt they necessarily meant much to whoever picked this piece for the game: more likely it was chosen for being a song with a very simple treble clef (so the player doesn't have to do too much work to solve the 'puzzle') but a much more complicated bass (so it still sounds sophisticated when played). Regardless, you can hear it sung here.

There's also one other little clue that might suggest that someone in the Winters' household has some real musical leanings: one of the CDs you can find in that drawer is titled 'Jazz Standard Theory'. Which sounds a lot more like an instructional CD than easy listening (though they're certainly not winning any prizes for those other titles).

Actually, while we're talking Ethan's CD collection, here's the asset for that Miss D & the Pallboys CD too! Surprisingly, it has a back as well, suggesting that at some point you might have been able to pick it up and examine it. The text is all pretty illegible, however.

(I've talked before about the theory that 'Miss D' is actually Lady Dimitrescu, but if you want the short version ‒ given that she's not from the village and is 'descended from a fallen noble', this one's surprisingly plausible!)

Hilariously, a love for jazz might just be one thing Ethan has in common with the Bakers, given you can find some records lying around the rec room upstairs.

Mind you, even RE2R managed to work a jazz festival flyer into this one puzzle solution...

Does someone in the team at Capcom have a thing for Jazz? Evidence is starting to stack up...

But getting back to our original topic, does Ethan play the piano? You can make a case either way, as the game never tells us explicitly. But there's enough here to point that way that I'd like to think he does, anyhow.

Which only makes the implications of this so much more tragic.

[ziezii]

Parent Material

prompt by @lady-yeehaw

"Want a smoke?"

A loud gasp was heard, followed by squealing, "Yes, yes-!" but before the auburn-haired girl could even take the pack out, Megumi who was beside her shook his head, "No."

Nobara rolled her eye at Megumi's rejection, tucking back the pack of cigarettes, "You're no fun, Fushiguro."

The jet-black haired boy just gives her a blank stare, "She's four."

The auburn-haired girl chuckled, looking down and saw the dejected look on the kid's face, "Sorry, Yumi-chan. But Kusakabe-san would kill me if I ever gave you this." as she dropped and stepped on it, putting the cigarette off.

"Hmph.." Yumi crossed her arms and replied, "Otou-san is way too protective, it's annoying.." grumbling a few other words that the two third-years couldn’t decipher.

"Your otou-san just wants the best for you, Yumi-san." a cry briefly interrupted the three, Megumi stood up and looked to Nobara, "I'll go check on Hiroshi." then averted his eyes to Yumi, “If Kugisaki gives you anything suspicious, run and tell me, immediately.”

“Why do you always have zero faith in me?”

“Because I know you, Nobara.” the little girl giggled at their interaction after seeing Nobara’s eye narrowing on his back. Now just the two of them, they went back on looking out to the sunset. Nobara closed her eye briefly, basking in the warmth.

“Are you and ‘Gumi-san dating?” she looked down at the little girl, her eyes curious and expectant for her answer.

Nobara chuckled and ruffled Yumi’s brown hair, though she quickly protested against it, “Would it surprise you if I said yes? We’ve only been together for a couple of months.”

Yumi’s eyes widened and a big smile crept up her face, “Will you two get married like Otou-san and Okaa-san?”

Nobara pinched both of her cheeks, squishing them as she replied, “How the hell do you know anything about marriage, hm?”

“‘Bara-san! Stopp!” Nobara didn’t budge and continued her little ministration, until Yumi lightly hit her hands and got her to release the hold on her cheeks, both of them giggling afterwards, “And you said a bad word! I’ll tell ‘Gumi-san about it.”

“Really? You’ll tell on your sweet Nee-chan?” leaning down to Yumi’s ear, she whispered, “Don’t think I didn’t see you eatting a full tub of ice cream.”

Yumi gasped, her eyes narrowing as she whispered back, “If you can keep my secret, I’ll keep yours.” and pulled her pinky finger up.

Nobara’s pinky locks into hers immediately and responds, “You just made yourself your first truce, Yumi-chan.”

The two girls then talked some more, all accompanied by Yumi moving her hands to emphasize her story with Nobara nodding along, sometimes even chiming in to dramatize the story. It’s been a couple of hours since then, and Nobara has noticed her tired eyes, even though Yumi tries on hiding them.

“Alright, Yumi, let’s get you to bed.”

“Nooo..” she whined, but immediately started yawning. “Five more, minutes..”

“Not when you’re already rubbing your eyes.” Nobara helped her stand up, holding her hand as they went back inside of the house. “Let’s go, Yumi-chan.”

By the time they entered her room, Yumi was already tucked in and she was at the brink of falling asleep. She still took the opportunity to ask softly, “Will you and ‘Gumi-san stay for my piano lesson..?”

“Hmm, I don’t know..” Nobara pinched her fingers between her chin, “You’ll find out when you wake up later.” she patted her head softly, “Get some sleep, Yumi-chan.”

Yumi was asleep in a matter of seconds. As Nobara closes her bedroom door, her eye catches an unfamiliar sight.

Megumi, mindlessly rubbing his hand on Yumi’s little brother, Hiroshi’s back who was asleep. She catches the protective grip he has on him with his other arm, but the gentle touch and rub to the little boy’s back doesn’t go unnoticed by her either.

The sight was very, domestic. She’d seen scenes in the movies and tv shows but always thought nothing of them, since she never grew up seeing such a sight. But this, in the back of her mind she thinks, ‘They look so, cute.’

“Nobara.” she focuses her vision on Megumi, his eyes on her. “Where’s Yumi?”

“She’s asleep.” walking to where the two were seated, Nobara settling beside her boyfriend. “You two look content.” she lightly teased, her eye drifting over the little boy.

Megumi shrugged slightly, “He was awake for a couple of minutes, but I just fed him some milk and he fell right back to sleep.”

The auburn-haired girl hummed, leaning her head on his shoulder and muttered, “Lucky. I’d kill for an easy sleep after drinking milk.”

Straightening his posture, he muttered back, “Get some sleep then. I’ll wake you up in an hour.”

“How about two?”

“Kugisaki.”

“Got it, got it, captain.” though as she closed her eye, her mouth had a mind of its own as she whispered, “You’re really good with kids, Megumi. You’d make a great dad.”

While she didn't expect him to reply, she definitely didn't expect, “You too, Nobara. You’d make a great mom.” to be his response.

Nobara opened her eye as she glanced over at him, unconvinced, “I’d make a horrible mom.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Kugisaki.”

“I do.” she seemed offended at his statement, but for a different reason, “but not for parenting. I’m not, mom material.”

“Then I wouldn’t either.”

“Tch,” she started, “Fushiguro-”

“You were there entertaining Yumi from the minute we were here until she went for her nap, you made sure she had enough to eat. Your eye told me everything you yourself are convinced otherwise.”

“I’m,” she tried to find something to counter his argument, but judging by his stare she knew she couldn’t, “I hate you.” though it held no weight, both of them knew.

“Get some sleep, Nobara.” his other hand cradled her head to lean back onto his shoulder, “Maybe then you’ll see yourself the way I do.”

“Ugh. You’re so cheesy.” but the flush on her cheeks and the immediate ‘try to hide your face from your boyfriend’ cracked a smile on Megumi’s face.

[bangtaninborderland]

MYG- Music To My Heart pt. 2

summary: you helped yoongi get past a musical block, he finally shows you the song but it was nothing like you’d expected.

part 1

It was exactly two weeks before the countdown for the song had begun, army going crazy over the teaser for the new single Dawn, yoongi had been in higher spirits ever since that night in the studio. He had even asked you to go yourself, calling your presence a blessing to his artistry.

The usual before a song release would be yoongi waiting around Hybe, either hidden in his studio or in the company of another member. Very rarely would he be home to watch a release unfold so you knew it must have been a special occasion when he stayed in the apartment with you, moving you both to the couch to join the countdown for the music video.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, nodding towards the timer on the flatscreen.

He continues to pet Holly who situated himself in between you both, paws tucked under the blanket covering your legs. “I don’t like to think too much about these things, this song is just one I particularly liked so I feel excited. It’s not like I can go back and change it.”

“You should be so proud of yourself, you worked hard for this and the fans will know that.” You shifted closer to him, hand reaching out to massage the base of his neck.

He leans into your touch, eyelids fluttering. “I’m nervous for you to see it.”

“Don’t be, did you forget I’m number one in min yoongis fan club.” You laugh lightly.

He shakes his head, not enough to disturb your soft moulding of his skin. “There’s a million people who would have different opinions.”

“Yeah, and Jungkook would be the first one in line to do that.” You sigh dramatically, causing you both to laugh.

The rapper shrugs his shoulders, smirking. “What can I say I’m an idol of idols.”

“Min Yoongi have you no shame or has it all disappeared because of the “big house, big car and big rings?”

He buried his face in his hands, flushing red with embarrassment as he laughs at the old lyrics. “Stop it.”

“Oh, it’s starting!” You shout excitedly, nudging him to face the screen. “I can’t believe you didn’t let me hear it before now.”

Regardless of your continuous badgering and occasional bribery, he wouldn’t let you hear the song, declaring you could only listen to it once the music video had been released. You’d given up after he locked you out of his studio for two days.

The soft melody began playing, the music video starts out in flashes of black white and grey. Your eyes are glued to the screen.

“Is that?” You noticed the soft humming tone he had made you record, playing over the sound of a piano.

“It’s you.” He responded, you didn’t question any further wanting to take in the entirety of the song.

The music video shows him travelling through some sort of timeline, images of the locations you’d met at and been on special dates to flickering in the background. The lyrics caused you to tear up, the words being more meaningful than anything you’d ever heard before.

“Oh, I'm runnin' round in a daze

We been walkin' so many ways

Feels like my heart's about to burst

Can't you see the take two?

Stories unfoldin' just for you

Youth with you by my side

Take my hands now”

The last verse came on and you broke, drawing in a choked breath as you pull his hand closer to you.

“It was possible because I was with you

I was happy being with you

I breathe in your voice

I stood up with your tears

Do I deserve your love?

The intersection of souls we've created over the years

I am so grateful and happy to be with you

Let's continue to be happy in the future”

You noticed the grainy picture of you two in the background, neither of your faces showing but you remembered it anyway, it was the day he had asked you out.

You wiped your face as the song came to a close, the last notes being the song you always whistled whenever you were cooking.

You’d never heard something so powerful, you’d never heard a song that held so much meaning and although you were an avid fan of the entire bts and agust d discography this was by far the most beautiful song you’d ever heard. The message being clearly a one of devotion, love and thanks. Something you often realised you’d never understand so clearly if you hadn’t met the man beside you.

As you turn to face him you realise how eyes are trained on you, you doubted he had watched a moment of the music video. “It was so beautiful.”

He ran a hand down the side of your face, wiping away a stray tear. Search the song.”

“What?” You gave him a puzzled look pulling out your phone.

As you typed the title into Naver a ton of results followed, mostly articles about the release of the song. “Now what?”

“Search the credits.” He laughed, watching your eyes.

You did as he instructed and began reading through them. You went stoic with shock as you see the word “ace” below the melody section.

When you’d first met each other he had always called you that because he said you were the ace of multitasking. Dealing with your own job and supporting him at all times whilst making him his favourite foods whenever you could.

“Yoongi I don’t know what to say it’s all so perfect.” You began crying again and this time he brought you closer to him, careful to mind the sleeping dog as he pulls your head to his neck.

“I wanted to thank you for everything these past few years. For being my best friend and accepting partner, for loving me and the members. I’ll never not be grateful to have you.” It’s only when you pull back you realise he too has tears in his eyes.

You lean in to kiss him, the action speaking louder than words. “I love you Min Yoongi.”

“I hope I can spend the rest of my life with you.” He whispers back, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You kiss his head in return earning a smile.

“You really are something.” He laughs, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Wait until your number one fanboy Jungkook finds out you made a song about me.”

He rolls his eyes, fake groaning. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You humm, tapping your chin dramatically.“You won’t but neither will I.”

“And why is that?” He raises an eyebrow, cockily.

“Because I’m yours forever.”

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Long Fic Titles (8+ Words) (5) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four

a universe without you (would be thoroughly mundane) (ao3) - chaeriloidea

Summary: Too much time on Twitter makes Dan reflect on how far he's come in his relationship with Phil and his audience.

Dan and Phil Take Each Other's Clothes Off (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!) (ao3) - BREAD2000yeet

Summary: Dan and Phil play dress-up based off Dan's one dailybooth

Dan stops and stares at him, “You did not just tell me a red panda fact while we are having sex.”

“They can also glow in the dark.”

don't wanna walk alone (so let's get married) (ao3) - lesbaurinkos (pluginbaby)

Summary: Phil’s always been a little wistful about the idea, some part of him a bit hopelessly romantic, perhaps, but his mind always catches on the thought of marrying Dan.

(or: marriage chats on a saturday night)

every city was a gift (and every skyline was like a kiss upon the lips) (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: “Do you think we could get a proper American desert cactus for our house?”

“Phil, no.”

“I missed the train, can I stay with you?” Redux (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: Phil can’t believe he let Ian convince him to go out to a nightclub. How he got from there, to sending a text to Ian that he’s actually heading back to his flat with somebody holy shit don’t be worried he won’t get ax murdered probably, Phil really can’t be sure.

A ficlet about senses and surprises.

I missed you so much I dyed the towels green (ao3) - chuuyaswife

Summary: A few of Dan’s shows get cancelled while he’s on the WAD tour so he decides to surprise his boyfriend back home for a few days. Fluffy reunion ensues.

i wanna throw the fight (and kiss away your pain tonight) (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: when feelings are too much for words

i will never know a sunday (how slow the moments go) (ao3) - beaniebopbaby

Summary: The man hunched over the piano, and Phil felt like he couldn’t breath. He looked around the room, to see if anyone else noticed this shift, when he finally realized they were alone. The notes grew slower and slower as Phil stood, drifting closer to the man playing the piano. The pianist looked as mesmerized as Phil, absorbed in his playing.

I'd like to hang out with you (for my whole life) (ao3) - bunnyslipper

Summary: Mornings in the forever home (featuring the golden pig)

If we were two sunflowers, I would have faced you instead of the sun (ao3) - twinphantasy

Summary: It didn’t really matter where they were or what they were looking at because Dan would always be looking at Phil.

i’m electric, a romantic cliché (me and you were meant to be in love) (ao3) - nardfx

Summary: “i really don’t know if i can do this.”

“you can do this.”

“okay, but what happens when everyone’s eyes are on me and they all know all of my secrets?”

or

dan and phil go to prom

in this falling rain (i fill the scattered you) (ao3) - ivylakes

Summary: “I’m not,” Dan finally says, voice cracking. He still doesn’t look over at the older boy. “I’m not okay, Phil.”

Phil stays where he is. He doesn’t leave, but he doesn’t come closer, either. He simply waits.

He always waits for Dan.

Or, Dan is weighed down by his mind, and Phil holds him anyway.

It Only Takes a Moment: A Dan and Phil WALL-E AU (ao3) - trancelover99

Summary: So, I've been thinking about this WALL-E AU where Dan and Phil replace Wall-E and Eve for a while, and I thought I should get around to making it! I hope you all enjoy it!

Origins of the Phass Inflation Post (Dan and Phil in Greece) (ao3) - EverythingIsAsItWas

Summary: Dan and Phil rarely take vacations just for themselves, vacations in which they make no content, do not work, and simply enjoy each other's company. Going to Greece feels like the perfect opportunity for this, but Phil also thinks it's the perfect opportunity for a video... and Dan likes being a little shit.

The three times it was a one off and the one time it was forever (ao3) - KirstieVic

Summary: 2014, 2016 and 2018 it's a one off.

Then 2020 during lockdown, it's forever.

we were never in the park (ignoring tornado warnings) (ao3) - pasteldanhowells

Summary: After Phil leaves Dan, Dan starts seeing a therapist. Then, Phil comes back, and Dan starts lying to his therapist about him.

without saying a word (you had all of me) (ao3) - rainbowroshenpower

Summary: I trace it all back, three-thirty AM

That night, something turned in my heart

While you were sleeping, I fell in love

you're never gonna get by on three hours sleep a night (unless you absolutely have to) (ao3) - Mildredo

Summary: phil has a migraine on tour.

[quinloki]

happy sunday

in light of you KILING ME EARLIER I have had something rummaging around in my brain for a minute and thought I should share

so. brain is back on the sabo/marco train. my brain has just been kind of going back and forth on all the sneaky ways y'all would be in a house still with so many brothers. sneaking into their rooms late at night, them being in your room when you get back. It's not really a secret or anything but you don't want to be too obvious about it either.

and bc SOMEONE put public sex into my mind- I'm just thinking like, Sabo cornering you in a common area. Maybe you've been being a bit of a brat, maybe mad about something small and avoiding them. Or you snuck up on him and smooched them and ran away and he's catching up. Now you're cornered in a common area, I picture it as a room with a piano.

Just picturing Sabo backing you up into the piano until you're forced to sit on the bench, talking about all the things he's gonna do now that he caught you and what kind of punishment should it be and like he's just whispering filthy things about how you could get caught at any moment so you better keep it down (you wont get caught by any of the brothers, but you do get caught by Marco who locked the connecting room's door so no one else could catch on after sabo tipped him off)

and you freeze and squeeze your thighs together when someone suddenly walks in when you're on your knees for sabo, something they both notice, and you've never really been watched by marco usually only watched by sabo but today it's a swap of getting watched as you get railed by sabo over the piano bench

now you can't look at the piano the same way again

and they're both so MEAN anytime they catch you in common areas, talking about 'we could just do it here, you'd like that right' or getting a little touchy under a table at a club talking about sneaking off to a back corner or the bathrooms. cornering you in a pantry and being like make it quick or thatch will catch on (nvm the fact that thatch isn't even in the house)

........

I cannot I'm done I'm hitting send before I chicken out xD

I imagine Sabo's very good at playing the piano. It's one of those things his parents made him learn, and you generally start really young. He's kind of reclaimed it to his own thing - more jazz and personal compositions, and less "proper classics".

Gods now I'm sitting here thinking about him painting keys on your skin. The application has you riled up all on it's own, but then he takes his gloves off and shows you the song he's been working on, fingers dancing over your painted skin.

You really can't look at the piano the same way after that. It's almost difficult to listen to him play afterward, at least not without feeling that gentle warmth against your skin.

he hums the tune while he plays it against your skin, playing through parts repeatedly. He's teasing you, but he really is trying to work out the next part of his piece. In the end you know the song well, very well - well enough that when it fills the halls of some theater where Sabo's playing for whatever reason you're suddenly tense and red in the face.

Marco sitting beside, wondering if you're okay. You're fine, and of course Marco knows. Knows he's been working through that song on your body, knows you know every note of it. Knows that the very movement of Sabo's hands over the keys can make you crumble.

You need to be at that recital with a toy tucked inside you I swear and the sweet smile on Marco's lips as he turns it on during the song's crescendo. Giving your soft yelp cover as you shift in the seat, but you can't beg him to turn it off without giving yourself away.

Clinging to Marco's arms, eyes on Sabo, volumes being communicated when he looks over at you, well aware of the effect of the song and what Marco's done to you.

It'll be a while still, but their sweet little song bird will sing for them later.

[dystopianam]

Random headcanons about Mercutio and Tybalt

In historical times, although both Tybalt and Mercutio are very skilled with the sword, Tybalt is more agile in movement and practice, while Mercutio is physically stronger.

In modern times, Tybalt's hobbies would be fencing, piano and boxing.

Tybalt is very thin both by constitution and because he is very tall, so isn't very noticeable that he is actually muscular, while Mercutio, being more "massive" and less tall than Tybalt (I imagine that Mercutio reaches Tybalt's shoulder in height) in him it's more noticeable that he is muscular, also because he is more muscular than him.

Mercutio have curly hair. Tybalt had longer hair when he was in his early teens and hates all the photos (or portraits, if we're talking about historical times) that show that he had medium hair lenght. When he was 17 he cut his hair either because it got in front of his eyes and bothered him when he used the sword (in historical times) or while he was fencing or boxing (in modern times). Another reason is because Tybalt always felt that long hair on men gave the impression of being dirty, and also because...he wanted to look a little more like his grandfather.

As we all already imagine, the Montys all have a lot of hair (not counting Patrizio who lost it due to old age) and Mercutio is very hairy on his body. But the Capps? Well. In my headcanon, As for hair, it's more a matter of luck. In fact, Consort has never suffered from hair loss, but Kent and Caliban have. I don't know about Albany and Cornwall, but what about Tybalt? According to my headcanon, Tybalt fortunately takes after his grandfather Consort BUT with some small downside. As I mentioned, like long hair, Tybalt believes that body hair also gives the impression of being dirty. Fortunately, being a man he rightly has his fair amount of body hair, but his body hair is few and being red-haired you don't see them so much. But, Instead he has a lot of hair on his face. I have the headcanon that he has this problem that ever since he entered puberty, he has a very thick beard and that it grows very quickly, which is why he is forced to shave it very often and this is why he is the only teenager in the entire game to have a bit of a beard.

I don't remember if I already wrote it. Those with light eyes tend to have vision problems, I imagine that Tybalt has very light gray eyes, so he uses glasses when he is at home and no one outside his home and family can see him. He is ashamed to be seen wearing glasses because he thinks he looks like a nerd. Outside the house he uses contact lenses.

I imagine Mercutio and Tybalt as more young adults than teenagers. This is because they grow really fast in the game. (If I'm not mistaken, Tybalt becomes an adult in a week, Mercutio in a little longer time)

I've probably already written this but I'll rewrite it. Tybalt speaks in Sim-English when he is too nervous, drunk or embarrassed to say something.

Tybalt keeps from crying every time he sees his sisters dressing up formal for special events because he imagines them as adults and married. This irritates him because he would never want any man to come close to them but at the same time he knows that he cannot keep them single and pure forever. If they have proms in Veronaville, Tybalt probably doesn't let his sisters dance with anyone. Instead he dances with both, growling at any male being who tries to approach them.

I know I have more headcanons on Tybalt than Mercutio, but I hope to have more on him in the future too (⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠)