#orange boy's tea party

[pygmypouter]

it's the great pumpkin, orange boy!

[hauntingofhouses]

(concept art of young taigen - source ; art credit: @abigaillarson)

i cannot get over this concept art of young taigen. god.

just look at this angry bratty boy, too many feelings that he doesnt know what to do with! an abused 9 year old kid in poverty always playing with sticks in the dirt, obsessed with greatness and dreaming to escape his decrepit village—and he does!

he does escape. he runs away. this angry little boy, all claws and teeth and biting words uttered with a lisp, going on the run into a world he's never seen before until he makes his way to kyoto. and knowing him he probably forced his way in to be accepted by the dojo, growling and kicking even as he's thrown out, back into the streets, too stubborn to take no for an answer and never knowing when to give up.

taigen calls mizu a dog, weak, an orphan, a scrawny street urchin. but i can't help but think that he feels so bold to use those words because he had them spat at him too.

because taigen had the idea of "this is how the world is" beat into him from birth. he learned quickly that if you couldn't beat the world you could join it. but that meant losing your way, your values, your principles. and isn't that what true honour is? not just titles and status and glory?

we don't get to see what taigen, as a child surrounded by peers encouraging and goading him on, would've actually done if that meteor hadn't fallen right in front of them at that very moment. would he have really tried to throw that stone on mizu, killing her? we don't know.

but we do see what taigen (his true self, with no one around) does, when presented with the same opportunity. when mizu passes out in front of him, unconscious and near death, vulnerable, the path to restoring his honour lays itself out for him on a silver platter. and he wants to take it, wants to kill mizu, to claim what is his and return to kyoto and get back everything he'd worked tooth and nail for. he feels like it's what he should do. but he doesn't.

and later, again he is presented with the chance to betray mizu, likely offered by heiji shindo to get his rank reinstated within the shindo dojo. and again, taigen doesn't take it. he refuses. "stupidly loyal," fowler calls him later. loyal, like a dog.

because now, pulled away from the sneering looks and jeering words of people around him, telling him that this is what the world is, taigen had met ringo and mizu, two outcasts who refuse to follow a predetermined path to greatness. and so inside something blooms in him. something like hope. a chance to live in a world that doesn't kick you down every chance it gets, to live in a world where genuine kindness and and love and friendship and even weakness is possible, allowed to simply exist without fear.

because he'd been running away from the very idea of it the whole time. when he ran from kohama, he never looked back, never wanted to remember what it was like to be a child, afraid and hungry and angry and hurting, without the words to make sense of it, desperately wishing for something. something more. he doesn't know what. but he hears stories of great swordsmen and decides, yes, this must be it. this is what i want: glory, greatness. the twisted seed gets planted and thrives in this barren land.

and when he returns to kohama with mizu and ringo, he at last is forced to stop running. he must face the child within him again, and he tells that child to put down the stones in his hand, tells him to stop barking at anything that moves or looks at him wrong.

the child drops the stone, and taigen buys dumplings instead, gives them to mizu. the child within him, wide-eyed at the prospect of friendship, moves him to pick up a hammer and toss it to mizu. he's smiling inside even as he does it; giggling like a kid hiding a silly prank. as soon as mizu drops the hammer after him, he leaps at her, tackling her to the ground and they wrestle and laugh unbridled like two children playing while the adults aren't around to barge in and yell at them.

and then his gaze catches on mizu's lips, he stares into mizu's eyes, a sparkling blue, inviting like the open sea in good weather.

it's a man's desire that takes hold then, the child in him sinking away again, and he curses himself for it, because it ruins the moment.

everything goes to shit from there, and then it's back to being a man, back to putting on his grown-up's armour to play hero.

it fails. the shogun dies. fowler's beatings reopen all the wounds left by heiji shindo's torture. "honour is meaningless," mizu tells him. "nothing comes from being a samurai but death."

the words follow him, and he follows the words.

as everything burns down, he runs, leaving the fire behind him, and sees akemi, as well as the verdure of spring behind her, calling him. he does not hesitate then to hold his hand out to her, inviting her to come with him. "i don't want to be great," he says. "i just want to be happy."

what is happiness to him? perhaps he doesn't know it yet, or perhaps he does. but really, i believe happiness is what the child in him always wanted but never received. happiness is a home.

[yeyinde]

kinda enamoured with the thought of our poor mc going to a dud of party but meeting Kyle and Johnny there (both looking as out of place as you feel) but instead of taking you home, they bring you back to Price and Ghost. a sweet little treat for them all to share.

and they're charming, of course. too charming. but alcohol numbs most of your inhibitions about how touchy they are. how physical. folding themselves into your space, leaning down to whisper in your ear when you can hear them just fine. hands on the small on your back. around your wrist. your waist. knuckles against your cheek—

god, you're such a pretty little thing, aren't you?

warm skin. breath that smells of thick, sweet cream and oaky black tea. hands curling under the hem of your shirt—shush, shush, doe, ahm jus' helpin' ye; yer hot, ain't ye? lemme help ye out o'yer jumper—thick, sunkissed fingers dancing over your skin.

you feel funny, you slur into his—Kyle, he huffs, grinning wide; wolfish: call me Kyle, sweet thing—neck, chasing the scent of spiced vanilla and wild, ripened plums. everything is spinning. spinning—

"god, he's gonna just love you—"

but they'll take you somewhere. home. you nod, nose tucked tight against his warm, steady pulse. "wanna go home—" you mumble into salt-tinged skin, and they laugh.

"oh, don't worry, beautiful. we'll get you right where you need to be."

you trust them, of course. let them usher you into their car, curled up against a broad, warm chest. lulled under a blanket of security wrapped tight in strong, firm arms. and if his hand wanders, fingers tickling the insides of your thighs. well—

you can't deny they're attractive. maybe you can get their number after and call them in the morning.

but that doesn't happen.

you wake to the sound of voices. hands sliding under your knees, around your shoulder. carried into a house that isn't your own—some strange cabin deep in the forest. the glow of the wood stove in the only light on inside, and you struggle to adjust to the thick orange haze.

"what's going on?" you ask, blinking at the sight that greets your liquid eyes.

Kyle places you down on a rug, holding your hips tight when you fumble. laughing, just a little, under his breath when you gasp.

sitting in an old, wooden chair is a man you've never seen before. big, broad. intimidating. his thick legs spread lazily—one kicked out against the rug, the other bent at the knee. and elbow rests on it. in his hand, a lit cigar. the other dangles, loose and lax, off the armrest. fingers curling, unfurling, into spasmic fists.

his eyes burn caeruleum in the flickering gold.

you fight back a shiver, but feel it slide like hot oil down your spine.

"what—?"

"my boys didn't explain it to you?" he asks, voice a rough, abrasive scratch in your head. gritty. porous. you feel it against your skin. fingers digging into your nape. bad girl. there's something about him that commands attention, and you give it easily as he tuts, pale lips pulling into a condescending sneer beneath the thick of his beard. "or maybe you just weren't payin' attention, sweetheart."

"attention to what—" sir almost trembles out. his lips twitch like he heard all the same. "i just want to go home—"

the hand dangling over the ledge flares to life. he flicks it careless around the room with a hum. "you are home."

"my real home—"

and then you see it.

he moves like liquid through the shadows. folds himself into the dark like its where he belongs. and you thought—and still very much do—the man sitting on his throne was large, intimidating, but it pales at the absurd height of this thing that slinks out of the corner with a heavy, laden gaze. powdered charcoal. endlessly black. flat, though. amused.

when he speaks, it's all brass. "what's this? Johnny brought 'ome a stray?"

"nah," you hear Kyle's grin. feel the phantom shift of sharp teeth against your neck. breathless laugher. warm hands. baby, you feel so good. "we found 'er in a club. lost little lamb."

"and you dragged her back to the wolf's den, mm?"

"you complainin', cap?"

it takes all of your willpower to tear your eyes off the man, but you manage. ripping them away until you find him—Price—again. he stares back with a lidded, heavy gaze. unflinching. hungry.

"not in the slightest."

Kyle purrs. "Johnny couldn't keep his hands off her, sir. might have some competition for who goes first."

cold air on your nape. dread bubbles up in your belly. "no—"

they continue like you hadn't spoken. like you don't exist. the man in the corner folds his thick arms over his broad chest, shaking his head a chainsaw-like grunt. laughter, you think.

but Price doesn't seem to find it nearly as funny. his teeth sink into the butt of the cigar with a growl. "gonna fight me for first, Sargeant?"

Johnny snorts, and rubs his finger under his nose.

"she's sweet," he murmurs, all wide-eyed and feverish. cheeks pinked under the warm spill of orange. "cannae blame a man fer wantin' such a pretty little thing—"

"back of the line," Kyle prods. and you wish his touch made your stomach churn, but that thread of intrigue, alcohol spooled want, still thrums in your veins.

"i just—" you stammer, eyes widening as real, tangible fear sets in. skewers into your belly. heart in your throat. the erratic echoes pounding in your ears. "i just want to go home."

"you are home, birdie—" he speaks and it feels like the walls shake. "didn't get a bright, did you, Johnny?"

"tha's mean, Lt—" his hands snake around your waist, pulling you into his hard chest. "didnae anyone teach ye 'ow tae chirp at birds?" the shorn sides of his Mohawk scratch against your cheek when he nuzzles, kittenish, against your face. "don't listen tae 'im, doe. yer th' sweetest, brightest lit'le thing—"

"mm, and such a bright little girl would know how to behave, wouldn't she?"

even with the alcohol dulling your senses—thoughts scattered and thin as two pairs of hands start pulling at your clothes, stripping you down to nothing—you can still see his words for what it is:

a threat.

as if to reinforce this idea, the man—Ghost, Johnny whines into your burning, stinging cheek, skin chafing from the graze of his buzzed sides: gotta 'ave a taste, Lt—moves, his body spilling out in a dizzying tumble of thick limbs. he stands by the door—the only one—and folds his arms over his chest once more, head cocking to the side as he stares down at you.

"don't worry, Johnny," he rumbles, lids slipping to half cresences over the ink black of his eyes. "i intend to."

the air stills when Price hums. your attention is pulled back to him instantly, but a part of you—all animal—halves it down the middle, keeping Ghost in your sights at all times. turning your back on him feels—

stupid.

you shiver.

Price shifts in the chair, reaching up for the cigar still pinched between his teeth. the look in his eyes is a startling, heavy thing. doom tastes like ash between your teeth.

"an' you're a bright girl, aren't you?"

it's not really a question. you nod anyway, feeling the fight in your body dissolve like wisps of smoke in the dense, thickened air. excitement, desire, hums—an electrical current—in the air, bubbling up between them. they move around you in a way that's dizzingly coordinated—a living, thrumming dance. stigmergy. as your clothes fall, as their hands grab your flesh, pinching and caressing, moaning in your ear about how soft you are, how sweet, one, horrifying thought thickens in the back of your head:

you know, then, that you're not going home.

"oh, sweetheart," Price drawls like he knows what you're thinking. a mocking little coo as he tucks his knuckles under your chin, lifting your head up to meet his burning gaze. there's something in there, you think. something awful. something hungry.

"you already are."

[someobsessionrequired]

OP characters

Would they let you paint their nails?

(Only MILDLY suggestive for Shanks...because yknow...its shanks)

Luffy!

You can absolutely try! He's not against it but this boy will most definitely run off about two fingers in

His color of choice was a ruby red that was supposed to get a coat of silver glitter, sadly you did not make it that far

The few fingers you did get done are completely back to normal within a day from a mixture of picking and chewing at them unconsciously

Sanji!

Is absolutely enthusiastic that you asked him! Tells you to choose whatever color you love the most so he has a constant reminder of you

Most definitely gets a nose bleed the moment you touch his hand, but other than that he sits patiently

Takes extra care in the kitchen to not damage said nails, if they flake off over time he will ask you to fix them for him

Zoro!

Definitely not overly enthusiastic about it but will begrudgingly agree after an idea hits his 2 working brain cells

He will get you to paint his two middle fingers a lime green, and will exclusively use this opportunity to flip Sanji off any chance he gets

Does not last long though within a week all the polish has chipped off

Nami!

100% down, she will request to paint yours as well afterwards

The two of you will be rocking a cute tangerine orange, every couple weeks you two will sit and touch them up again together

Brook!

He will absolutely crack a bone joke about how he does not have nails to paint

Will let you paint the tips of his boney fingers though, he would ask for a shade of blue that reminds him of his dear friend Laboon

Shockingly with a protective coat the polish stays wonderfully for many werks

Robin!

Another who is very happily down and requests to do the same for you! She will make a whole event of the time, tea, and some light reading in-between coats drying

If this becomes a regular ocurance she will mix up colors between dark violet shades and deeper pinks

Jinbe!

This man is not quite sure what you are asking of him but agrees with a hearty chuckle

When you ask him to pick a color he will ask for dealers choice, he does not particularly care about the polish but enjoys the way your face lights up when he agrees

Sadly does not last long on him ask with so much swimming it is bound to break down quickly

Ussop!

Beyond down! Another to make a whole event of the time, hair, face mask, and nails

Paint his nails while he tells you beyond Preposterous stories, the self care will be going both ways that night and by the end both party's will be refreshed

He would choose a forest green and after it drys attempt to do little designs of vines and flowers on them, to a somewhat success

Kid!

You would not even have to ask, this man would run out of his own polish and ask if you had any

A bit annoyed when you ask to paint them for him but agrees under the terms that he can make the two of you match

This man is red all the way, the more like fresh blood the better, will let you once in a while spice it up with painting his middle fingers black

Killer!

God he really did not want to at first but he is a softy and will agree after he sees your disipointment

At first he thought about matching with his captain but quickly decided against that settling on a deep ocean blue

With the amount of fighting this man gets up too it does not last long, but once a week will go to you to have them fixed up

Heat!

Obsessed with the idea! Another to have an entire self care night with you

Will pick a deep firey orange with a lighter orange glitter on top, has you help fix up his dreads as each coat drys, he struggles with the ones behind his head so that where your main focus will be

Afterwards will do the same back for you choosing for your nails to half match his, instead having a sparkly blue on top

This will become a regular occurrence

Wire!

Loves the idea, he's a man of few words so things you can do together that do not put pressure on talking are his favoites

He would wants a darker purple as to complement his outfit, after you finish he would place his hand out and after a moment of confusion you'd understand this him offering to do the same for you!

He takes great care of his nails but fighting takes its damage on them, when they get too bad he will simply approach you and hold out his hand to show how chipped they are, you get the message and fix them up for him

Law!

Absolutely! ...not...

He rejects it flat out multiple times and after so long you just stop asking...

That is until one night all the crew was drinking and celebrating their latest victory, after several too many drinks he approaches you, definitely even in his intoxicated state finds himself struggling with his words to request what he wants

After a while of anxiously waiting for the captain to tell you what he wants he simply asks you to follow him, assuming you are in trouble you are shocked to find him request such a silly thing

Happily you lead him to your chambers digging around in your bag you pull out a matte black polish

The next morning he wakes with a ragging hangover on top of the shock of his nails now painted, wants to be angry but knows it looks damn good, continues to take damn good care of them as well

Penguin! & Shachi!

Okay if you ask one they will not only agree immediately but also drag the other along

Unshocking this will not be an easy endeavor, it starts off strong with the two of them dumping out every color you own digging though struggling to choose a color

Eventually they will settle on a color each, penguin having picked and icey blue and Shaci with an almost neon orange, they request you do every other finger with each color

After you finish up they do the same for you each boy taking a hand, it starts off fine but quickly turns into the two insulting each other over how messy they paint, it turns into a competition of who can paint better

Bepo!

Often you find yourself napping and relaxing with Bepo so after a while of this you mentioned the idea of painting the polar bear's claws

He is absolutely giggling and squealing at the idea, quickly requesting for the most fun color you could think of, this boy wants glitter and do not cheap out! A light icy blue base with as many rainbow sparkle coats you can muster up

He will treasure them and keep them as safe as he can but will come to you with tears in his eyes as they peel off, give this boy a huge and fix them up for him!!

Shanks!

Absolutely will but requests you sit on his lap as you do it, this man will use any sneaky trick to get what he wants but as long as you both are happy he's winning

Wants a shade of red that matches his hair, once you finish up his hand he will ask you to do the other hand, out of pure Instinct you look towards where his other hand would be as he lets out a deep vibracious laugh poking fun at you for the rest of the night

Mihawk!

We'll say no the first time you ask but if you mentioned it a few times he will eventually give in requesting the most simple soild black you can find

After you finish them he takes a moment staring at them before nodding at you and sending you on your way

Over the next few days you'll notice anytime he walks by a mirror to straighten up his outfit he will take a moment to appreciate the nails and how well they complement his look, he may not want to admit it but you can tell he is feeling himself up

Will eventually ask you to fix them up over time as he says he's grown fond of them

Writers note!

Thank you reading! Requests are open for headcanons, fics, and really just about anything!

[cherry-pop-elf]

What their Amortentia would smell like: Weasley Edition

All you did was something so harmless. You entered the WWW shop, and explored. Found yourself by the love potions, uncorked it for shits and giggles, and the smell sends you down a rabbit hole

Writing Commissions Open

William ‘Bill’

The beach. You smell the beach. The warm sand, the cool salt air, and the distant wind of beach flowers. It’s so warm, and inviting. The more you inhale, you smell something else. Marble. You smell cold stone, as if you were in Gringotts. A cooling scent to keep you grounded. A giggle leaves you, as you knew you smelled wet dog in there. You were going to keep that last detail to yourself. But, it did solidify something. He did smell like wet dog after his showers. You damn well knew it. Your Billy Boy.

Charlie

A smack to the face it was. This intense campfire. Very specifically a camp fire. Not a wood stove, not a fire place. It was a campfire. With those blends of nature, and burning of dried leaves. The smell of a campfire in the dead of night. When your eyes stopped watering from the smoke stench, you could smell something else. It’s almost like berries. Wild berries. A sweet, almost tart, against all that fire. Along with leather. Oh the leather clings to your throat. It stays with you, and hangs. That’s your Charlie alright.

Percy

Parchment. Parchment, and books. A rather bland scent. You swore you could even smell a freshly corked ink bottle as well. Amongst the paper, you smelled something else. Earth. You smelled earth. Specifically earth that had been freshly rained on. It’s such a soothing scent. Despite its blandness, it was comforting. It’s very familiar, and soothing. Just because it was simple, did not mean it was boring. It was his scent after all. It’s a simplistic, homey, scent. Simple, but never boring. Oh Percy. Your sweet little Percy.

Fred

Grape. That surprised you. Yes there was the expected. There was the scent of fire, gun powder, everything that defined a fire work. Yet, grape was a surprise. Grape, and tea. Specifically grape tea. There was also this distant taste of night air on the back of your tongue. As if you were enjoying a cup of cold grape tea, during a rainy night time sit on the porch. It was an almost mature scent. Fred? Mature? You were speechless. Yet, you couldn’t deny it. It’s him. It’s him to the smallest accent. Your Freddie.

George

Oranges. Oranges, and freshly made pastries. Yes, there was that familiar fire work scent, but you also smelled oranges. As if someone made orange cupcakes, and served it with an overly sugary coffee. It very much was a scent of someone waking up early in the morning. Fixing a cup of sugary coffee, with some freshly peeled oranges, while enjoying a freshly baked cookie. It’s so warm, and cozy. As if entering a kitchen, after the Fourth of July party. It’s so homey. Yep, that’s your Georgie.

Ron

Very fresh, funny enough. Like cut grass, and fresh laundry. It’s just a very homey scent. Like you were home sick, and you finally got to walk in through the front door again. It’s such a soft embrace. Like being hugged, after a rough day. You swear you even smell wool. Like of an old sweater, that’s been loved to death. Very musky, but in a good way. Like someone’s been working hard on a garden all day, and came inside to cool off. It’s such a warm scent. It makes you smile, and feel almost refreshed in a way. It was just right. It was home. Ron was your home, and he can make your day turn out for the better. Even if it’s just a few words. Your Ronnie.

Ginny

Wind. That’s the first thing that comes to mind. Just that scent of a windy day, where nature is carried through. The soft scents of floral undertones, mixed with fresh grass. There is also the scent of wood. Specifically freshly cut wood. Like someone had been whittling away, and was working hard on a project. Such earthy undertones, amongst the familiar scent of her favorite perfume. She wasn’t much of a girly girl, but that didn’t mean she hated femininity as a whole. Besides, her brother got it for her. That’s when you smiled. This was a scent of a little sister, that was loved so much, and strong in her independence. Oh that Gin Gin.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Chilling

Masterlist

Pairing: Henry X Reader

Synopsis: You were in love with the blacksmith's boy since you were both children. One day, he stumbles into into the apothecary, covered in blood and wounds, asking for you. As the last survivor of the hunting party, you start to suspect what has changed him.

Tags: fluff, eventual smut, werewolves, friends to lovers, mutual pining, angst, danger, some death, gore,

Chapter 1

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the village into a shroud of cold shadows. In the dimly lit apothecary, you moved with purpose, tending to the sick under the warm glow of flickering candles.

The room smelled of herbs and remedies, a comforting scent that enveloped the two children and their mother nestled under thick furs. Your hands moved carefully, wrapping the children tightly as you spoke to them in a soothing tone.

"You see, this medicine is made from a special herb. It's like a little helper for your body," you explained, your eyes meeting the curious gaze of the youngest child.

"Why does it smell sour?" the girl asked.

You chuckled, “To me, it smells like oranges. Trust me, after a few sips, you'll feel much better and be playing with your siblings again."

Turning your attention to the reluctant boy, you's smile remained unwavering. "I know, it doesn't taste like your favourite sweets, but it is still good stuff. Drink up, and you'll be back to your adventures in no time."

The boy eyed the tea suspiciously and reluctantly took a sip.

As you comforted the children the mother's discomfort became apparent. Her forehead is damp with fever. You placed a damp cloth on her forehead and she sighed.

"You'll be alright," you assured before ushering the kids into another room, telling them to drink their tea.

Returning to the mother, you reassessed the situation. The bucket beside her bed was full, and she was wiping her mouth. A realisation dawned on you. You delicately asked, "Have you been intimate recently?"

The woman nodded, and understanding swept over. She was with child.

In that moment, the door creaked open, revealing the figure of Rebecca, the village healer, and your mentor.

Rebecca entered the apothecary, shaking off the snow from her cloak and depositing a basket of herbs and roots onto a table. "The cold has arrived sooner than expected this year," she sighed, eyeing the flickering candles that cast shadows on the walls.

Her gaze shifted to you, engaged with the now cleaned-up woman. A knowing smile played on Rebecca's lips as she assessed the situation. "Congratulations, Lucy. Wonderful news,"

As you helped Lucy with a wash basin, you made small talk about breaking the news to Michael, Lucy's husband. In the midst of their conversation, you couldn't resist asking, "How do you do that? Can you read minds?"

Rebecca snorted, not confirming or denying the accusation.

After everyone was cleaned up, children tucked back into bed, and Lucy given a herb to induce sleep, Rebecca noticed the weariness in your eyes. "The night has almost fallen. You should get some rest,"

"What about you?" You asked.

Rebecca dismissed you with a wave, "Don't worry about me. You've been working too hard. I can see it in your eyes. You shouldn't have to do the work of five people."

You chuckled, "Especially with winter colds."

The howling wind outside and the distant howl added an eerie soundtrack to their conversation.

"Sounded louder," Rebecca commented cryptically.

Perplexed, you asked, "What are you talking about?"

"The howling," Rebecca replied, your tone filled with a solemn warning. “One was louder than the rest…”

Oblivious to the ominous undertone, you shrugged and packed your things. "I haven't noticed. If you're okay here, i'll take that offer to go home."

As you opened the heavy wooden door, Rebecca cautioned behind you, "Be careful, y/n. No shortcuts."

With those words echoing in your mind, you donned your cloak and stepped into the biting night, leaving the apothecary behind, the wind carrying with it an unsettling howl.

As you ventured through the village on your walk home, the air grew colder, and darkness descended. Winter's biting cold pierced through your cloak, urging you to quicken your pace. The villagers had retreated indoors, leaving the streets eerily quiet, only the sounds of your footsteps echoing and the wind whooshing through the creaking, naked trees. The quietness was haunting, a stark contrast to the usual lively hum of the village.

Passing the dressmaker's shop, you glanced into the window, where a distorted reflection of a beautiful dress beckoned. You cast a brief glance down at your own worn garment. You've worn it almost every day for three years. The fabric clung tightly, showing your growth over the time.

A sudden snap to your right shattered the silence, and you spun. In the shadows, a pair of glowing eyes seemed to stare back at you. A gasp caught in your throat, and you broke into a run. The chilling wind whipped at your hair as you sprinted toward your brother's farmhouse at the edge of the village.

Reaching the safety of the familiar door, you stole a glance over your shoulder, heart pounding. There was nothing but the winter night. You hurriedly entered the house, shutting the door with a shiver, leaving the cold and the unsettling encounter outside.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

You closed the heavy wooden door behind yourself, and the warm glow of the farmhouse kitchen welcomed you. Your brother, his wife, and their three children sat around the sturdy wooden table, eating a hearty stew from a pot placed at the center.

Will, holding the twins and little Mary devouring your small bowl, greeted you with understanding smiles. "Sit, eat."

As you filled your plate, your brother's wife picked at the sleeve of your worn dress, the dirt from the day's work evident.

"Can you mend this for me, Sophie?" you asked her.

Sophie nodded, "Of course! Leave it with me tomorrow, and I'll have it done by the morning. Can you wear something else in its stead in case it takes me some time?"

You pondered your dress options while taking a scoop of the stew. "I have my festive dress, but there's also my grandmother's old work dress. It's a bit big, though."

Sophie grinned mischievously, "Festive dress it is, then. Remember the harvest festival? The butcher's boy couldn't take his eyes off you."

Blushing, you chuckled, gaze drifting to the window. Your mind lingered on Henry, the blacksmith's nephew. You secretly had a crush on him since you were both children

He lost both his parents and older brother to cholera. Had to grow up fast, becoming the first to apprentice at his uncle Jen’s smithy at the age of ten.

You, only seven years old at the time, found him captivating, though your friends didn't share the sentiment.

You were quite chubby as a child but harsh winters and harvests have made it difficult to stay that way. The same applied to him, although unlike you, who became thinner, Henry bulked. As the years passed, he transformed from a lanky, sickly boy into a broad and capable young man, drawing lots of attention from the village girls with his tall build, strong arms, constantly covered in veins and dirt from working at the smithy.

Despite the two of you being friendly enough, Henry hadn't seemed to notice you much, always engrossed in his important errands at the smithy.

Sophie's voice brought you back to the present. "The butcher's son is handsome and well-off. Perhaps think about it?"

"Perhaps." you considered.

As Sophie departed for bed, you cleared the table before removing your dress, leaving it for Sophie. You settled down on your bed in the kitchen in your night dress, covering yourself in a heavy wool blanket and turned your head to the side.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

In the midst of the night, you found yourself in a dream.

You wandered through a frost-covered forest, shadows dancing beneath the moonlight. Distant howls of wolves echoed, and Henry 's figure emerged from the mist.

As you approached, he turned, revealing the handsome face you often found herself dreaming of.

Henry 's deep brown eyes held a warmth.

"Y/n, my y/n" his words muffled in your dream but you still found your heart beating loudly.

"Yes, Henry." you gasped.

Henry 's arms enveloped you, pulling you closer in a tender embrace beneath the moonlight. He lifted your chin up to meet his lips in a soft, tender kiss that lingered minutes after he pulled apart and trailed kisses along your jaw, and down your neck, where he lingered, playfully nipping at your collarbone.

You gasped.

"I want to sink my teeth into you..." He whispered. You felt your cheeks burn, along with the rest of your body.

Suddenly, the dream shifted. The forest darkened, and the wolves' howls intensified. A giant figure, cloaked in shadows, appeared. Your heart raced as you recognized the glowing eyes from your earlier encounter.

"I want to sink my teeth into you." The figure whispered. Your pulse picked up as the dream twisted into a chaotic dance of uncertainty.

You woke up with a start.

The farmhouse was silent, bathed in the soft glow of the hearth. you lay in the quiet darkness, the dream fading.

Unable to shake off the disquieting feeling, you slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb your family, and donned your warmest attire. The creaking floorboards betrayed your departure, and as you stepped outside, the winter night embraced you once again.

The village slept peacefully, shrouded in a blanket of snow. Your breath formed visible clouds in the frigid air as you made your way to the apothecary. The flickering candlelight within revealed the familiar shelves of herbs and potions.

Rebecca, already awake, greeted you with a knowing smile. "The threads of fate weave a complex tapestry," Rebecca mused. "Your dreams may hold clues to the challenges ahead. Stay vigilant, you, and trust your instincts."

[amongemeraldclouds]

first love | lorenzo berkshire | 561 words | flufftober masterlist

The air is fresh with the sweet blossom of flowers and the sun illuminates everything with its golden glow. You're six and running around the garden, hair flying in the wind.

You pause when a boy comes over to ask if he can play with you. You remember him as Lorenzo. His family, the Berkshires, just moved in the mansion next door. You ask if he wants to play on the swings and he nods with a toothy grin and bright eyes.

Next thing, you're laughing as the wind rushes past you, lifting you higher. Closer and closer to the sun. He joins in the laughter, not sure what's funnier: how easy it is to be your friend or how happy he feels to be beside you.

He indulges in your pretend tea parties, clinking glasses with stuffed animals. In turn, you play pirates with him and conquer kingdoms together.

Afternoon games soon turn to sleepovers when his or your parents travel abroad for business. You tell each other scary stories in the dark, trying to one up each other, only to both cuddle and hold on tightly to each other through the night.

Blink and soon stuffed toys are replaced by magazines, plastic swords replaced by quidditch brooms. Time has a funny way of slipping by.

One Tuesday afternoon, you smile at him after quidditch practice and notice his muscles for the first time, sweat glistening beneath the glaring sun. Where was the scrawny boy you played tag with? You could have sworn it was just yesterday. And when he smiles back at you, you feel a flutter in your stomach, heat creeping into your cheeks.

Ridiculous, that's what this is. He's your Lorenzo, tea aficionado and slayer of dragons. Not whatever funny feeling crept in your stomach. For all you know, it could just be indigestion. That's right, you can always blame it on the scones.

Except when he brushes off an orange leaf that fell on your head, it's hard to ignore the delicious spark from where he touched you. You almost forget how to breathe, but by some miracle, you bring yourself back to the present moment. Because what if you're the only one going through it? An icy chill buries itself in your chest.

Little do you know, he has noticed you too. The adorable sound of your laughter, the addictive smell of your shampoo, and how much he wanted to hear about your day. Every detail found a home in him that still left him wanting more.

It's agony, holding himself back. He'd settle for small excuses to touch you - a wayward leaf in your hair, an accidental brush of the arm when you walked side by side, hugging you to celebrate your wins.

You'll find out soon enough. You'll both travel to the countryside one weekend, eager for a break from all the books and To Do lists. The heavy downpour will get in the way of your return trip. With no choice, you'll have to book a room at an inn.

Of course they're fully booked, except for one room. One room with only one bed. It's no big deal right? You've had countless of sleepovers after all. But right there, on one bed, are two souls and three words. That's all it will take to confirm what you both hope for, what was always inevitable.

[delicrieux]

𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫, 9. year one: november, 1972

pairing for this chapter—f!lestrange!reader x regulus black warnings for this chapter—sum swearing word count—3,2k

well, this is certainly a disaster. or as close to ruin as anything can be

author's note: i won't apologize for the wait, there is not point. i am what i am and i won't change

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | ttp masterlist | < back | next >

the slow shift to november was agonizing for a number of reasons, but the most prominent of which proved to be the least interesting of them all. there was the added pressure of your studies piling up to monstrous amounts, even for a first year, as the winter exams loomed overhead, fanged and thorny. then, there were the social obligations, the song and dance of minute tea parties and lemon cakes. there was matilda and her sharp tongue and her crooked brow directed at your person, and there was dorcas waiting with her broom and you unceremoniously turning her down.

there was the odd discomfort in your stomach and a palpable, growing gloom about the castle that only you seemed to feel. all of these instances would be tolerable, as you are well-equipped to manage, only each night after your birthday you found yourself waking sooner, and sooner, and sooner, and soon enough, you weren’t sleeping at all.

it’s the eve of sirius’ thirteenth birthday. like a spinning vinyl, the thoughts don’t stop, and the tune is bitter. the night he was born was supposedly starry and bright and quiet, much like it is now. behind the curtain of your bed, you hear the girls shifting in their sleep. your head hurts. your eyes are dry. you sit up carefully. you can’t take it. you think you might hate everyone.

outside the room you find it much easier to breathe – how odd it is to relearn such a simple skill, will you have to teach yourself many more things you already know at your grown age? with a hand on your heart beating an uncertain pattern, you walk and walk and walk till the crackling fire in the hearth masks your footsteps. no one is here, but the shadows are long, and the lake behind frigid glass is so deep and murky the moonlight doesn’t spill through.

like a creature trapped in some ghastly nook at the end of the world, you find that you truly do hate everyone – everyone and everything in this terrible castle and what it has made of you. when you sit on the velvety cushions, they are warm from the fire. the embroidery could be better, the tiles could be cleaner, and the whole room could smell of something  crisper besides herbs and smoke. the feeling you abandoned in bed returns stronger, and it’s cold enough to jump into the flames and curl up on the logs and wait till the ashes blanket around you.

the silence is disturbed by a roll of a crystal charm, so sudden and frightening that you startle and look behind you.

there, in the dark maw of the corridor leading to the boys’ dorms, stands a figure, obscured, yet short and familiar – a silhouette you have learned to recognise in dreams. regulus approaches having caught your attention (or more so, you have caught him loitering), and more of his pale features come into the dancing orange light.

“did you do that?” you whisper harshly.

regulus, with his hair dishevelled and his linen pyjamas askew – the r.a.b on his breast pocket gleams, silvery and slick, the closer he gets – seems uncomfortable, “what?”

“i dunno,” you accuse, “that. did you knock a ball over or something?”

“no,” the frown is instant, and his shoulders are taut, “what are you doing here?”

“what are you doing here?”

“nothing,” he responds vaguely.

“decided on a night walk, did you? stop lying.”

“i’m not lying,” he grits, “why are you attacking me? i didn’t do anything.”

you huff and look away, “fine, then. be on your way.”

if it were anyone else, they would have hexed you for your impoliteness or simply left. you want him to leave, so strongly that your hands tremble, and that anger within you is so vast you think it might eat you before it eats everyone else. you don’t dare look at him as he takes a tentative seat beside you, and the tension doesn’t leave your gut till he gently unfurls your hand from your nightshirt (when had that happened?) and cradles it in his warm palms.

you manage a glance. he seems awfully concerned with the structure of your knuckles, the soft slopes and dips. your regulus, you hear that cruel voice in mind, isn’t he the fucking best.

the whole previous display feels completely unnecessary, and you want to apologize, but the words don’t form, so you remain silent. he speaks first, rasp and sleepy, “i can’t sleep,” he admits to your ring finger before he opens your palm and looks at the lines, as though he is about to tell your future, “i’d like to see him, but i know he won’t want to see me.”

it’s such a sad confession. you almost wish you’d never bear witness to it. you can’t think of anything to say that would soothe the ache he revealed to you, and your limbs don’t move, immobilised by the cold and by his careful touch. sometimes, you would lay in bed unable to close your eyes and wish that regulus was beside you, but now that he’s here, you wish he was absent. have you ever willed it, you ponder, him to wander around like a spectre in search of you?

stop bothering me and go back to regulus. he's probably already looking for you.

“why are you so cold?” he asks.

you frown, “because it’s cold.”

he squints, “it’s really not.”

“well, it is to me.”

“alright,” he relents, still examining your palm, “do you want to sit closer to the fire? or i could give you my jumper. i’d have to go back to my room to get it, though.”

“here’s fine.”

perhaps your dismissiveness had given him enough time to work up the courage to peak at your displeased expression, and when your eyes meet, his hold on you slackens just a bit, and he sits up a tad straighter, as though in surprise. twin hazels reflect the room and you, miniature and sickly, leaning away from him. he calls your name quietly, afraid to disturb the austere hush that settled unexpected and heavy on both of your shoulders, “you don’t look well.”

“rude,” is quick and sharp between your teeth.

he shakes his head, “not like that, don’t twist my words. should we go see madam pomfrey?”

a visit to the school nurse on witching hour? absolutely not, how embarrassing would that be, the two of you stood hand in hand like two inconsolable, useless children. she would no doubt be roused from sleep by your persistent knocking, and she’d likely scold you for waking some dying patient, and then you’d have to explain what is wrong with you, though you don’t know what is, and then you’d likely start crying because she would look at you funny and tell you to speak up.

you are no longer five, and you don’t need regulus’ hand to brave the dark mazes of your home, and you don’t need him now, either. so, “no.”

he does not like your answer, but granted, he likely didn’t like anything this conversation had to offer, “let’s go,” he says, “else cissy will see you when she wakes up and you’ll end up dragged there anyway. or would you prefer the whole school watching?”

since when is he so shrewd? you blink, caught off guard by such an astute observation. yes, cissy’s involvement would likely ruin you. if you do look as terrible as regulus is implying, then matilda would likely start some horrid rumour simply to mess with you, and you would end up cursing her bloodline with some nasty magic you managed to smuggle out of the restricted section or the lestrange family crypt. it is best to avoid such discord and save your dignity.

“wait here,” sensing that your mind is thoroughly made up, he pats your hand and stands, “i’ll get my jumper and we can go.”

and so, reluctantly, you wait as instructed, your knees drawn into your chest, but your eyes never leave his shadowed figure until he is out of sight. you wonder what is taking so long.

at last, he reappears, seemingly more flustered than he should be for the duration of his extended disappearance. the look on his face is unsettling, but before you can demand an explanation, he shoves his jumper on to you like some kind of hastily folded blanket. when you wrestle the wool off your face, regulus gives you a tiny, closed mouth smile and nods, satisfied, before offering his hand to you. no longer a rare occurrence, and you are not sure what had caused the change, but you don’t have it in you to mull on it any longer.

you take his hand.

***                                                  

you sit on a chair in madam pomfrey’s atelier. it’s small and cosy, with an oil lamp burning on her table and illuminating the surroundings: the neat files stacked onto one another, the plethora of notes – colour-coded by parchment – and numerated glass concoctions within her cabinets, all more curious than the last. in your murky vision, some appear to be moving, swirling, beating like a heart.

“there it is,” she murmurs, pilfering some potion from its resting place before quietly closing the drawer. her hair is a loose and golden, and there’s a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. when she looks at you, she smiles, a small, kind thing you think might be pity and it makes you squirm, “it’ll help you sleep.”

you have been so apprehensive and displeased to have regulus babysit you, but now you, once again, realise that you would like him to be here with you.

professor flitwick had caught the two of you wandering shortly after you left the common room, but regulus was quick to explain the gravity of the situation. apparently, one closer look at you in lumos had blared some alarm bells, and thus you were hastily escorted without further explanation. the embarrassment was gut-churning, but it might’ve just been nausea.

when you reached the hospital wing, you were given to madam pomfrey, and professor flitwick had taken regulus back to the dungeons, but not before he promised to visit you first thing in the morning.

madam pomfrey pours you a cup of tea, and the pleasant aroma envelops you in a comforting, sleepy haze. the porcelain is very hot in your numb fingers. you pull it closer to your chest and let it burn. the mist warms your cheekbones and your nose.

“thank you,”

“has this been happening for long, miss lestrange?” you shrug at the question, and her expression twists with worry. she fiddles with the bottle, perhaps mesmerized by how it gleams in the dark. then, as though having made some great decision, she quickly returns to the drawers and hides it again.

instead, she takes out a different vial and approaches with a more confident step, “well. in case it is to happen, and happen often, please come visit me and we’ll think of something. but, for now,” she motions to your tea and you hurry to present it. she unscrews the cap and a few drops fall into your drink, “it has no taste nor smell, but it’s potent. finish up your tea and we’ll get you to bed.”

“will i have to stay here?” you wonder.

“only for the night,” she assures.

***

it’s still dark when you wake up, but the lights are on. it takes you a second to recall where you are and why you’re here. when you slowly sit up, your bones pop, and the swishing curtain in your peripheries suddenly bursts with a body.

your eyes widen, and dorcas’ widen right back, “you’re awake!” is exclaimed, quite literally, for everyone else to hear. you can’t even find it in yourself to scold her, but madam pomfrey does make some shushing sounds as she passes by the drawn curtain, “how’re you?” she continues undeterred, taking a spare seat beside your bed.

“alright,” you think of it a bit more, “i suppose.”

“that’s good,” a riveting conversation, truly, but you like the simplicity of it. dorcas, donning her burgundy sweater and a new complicated pattern of pretty braids, offers you a smile, “i was thinking about bringing you a book or something, but honestly, i didn’t know if you were staying here for long. i asked regulus, but he didn’t really say anything.”

it appears that regulus has chosen to be your secret keeper. he had no business telling dorcas of anything, but the rest might be well aware of what had truly transpired, even if that something is too puzzling to put into place. a cold, or some different malady.

“was nothing, really,” you assure her, and it seems to work, “what time is it, anyway?”

“eight.”

“in the evening?” you sit up straighter at such speeds that surely rival the seeker of dorcas’ beloved quidditch team who, you’ve heard, is quite fearsome, “it’s friday, eight in the evening?”

“yes,”

you missed sirius’ birthday. granted, it's unlikely he would have lingered long enough for you to catch him for either a congratulations or a hateful glare (whichever felt warranted at the moment). maybe you would have thrown your glass of pumpkin juice at him, or, more likely, if he would have given you even the inkling of a smile, you would have collapsed into yourself and, hopefully, his embrace.

perhaps he was in a good enough mood to forgive you for the transgression you still cannot name. perhaps it would have all worked out, and your wish would've come true, but it all now lays in ruin, and there is no one to blame but yourself.

noting your change in mood (it must be quite obvious, the spiralling dread you feel), dorcas gently places a hand on your shoulder, "we were worried about you."

she was worried about you. it's a nice thought. perhaps the only thing that is currently not on the verge of disaster.

"no, really," how does she sense you don't believe her? this girl is more than your initial estimate implied, "none of your lot were present for history. i thought you skipped, honestly, was kinda bummed you didn't invite me. i would've loved doing literally anything else. but then the rumour sorta spread that you're at pomfrey's, and then it all started to make sense."

ah, the castle rumour mill, an admirable institution. maybe even stronger than you had anticipated. still, when you search yourself for even the barest of strength to give some scathing remarks, you don't find them. how boring yet liberating to have no fight in you. it might be the lingering effects of the potion.

a few more words are exchanged, and then she leaves you to dress. nothing to be done, you think pragmatically as you finish buttoning up. with no mirror to admire yourself in, you add: he wouldn’t have wanted to see me anyway. if he knew, maybe it made him happy.

the hospital wing is almost as silent as it had been deep into the night. there’s slight shuffling and wispy, tired voices echoing behind identical curtains, all nursing their own woes. dorcas doesn’t seem nearly as uncomfortable as you are to be here, in all this sickness. she only offers you a smile, and wordless, the two of you vie for madam pomfrey.

“i see you’re awake, miss lestrange,” the head nurse notes, cradling a pitcher by the door to her office. her quick eyes scrutinize you from head to toe, and she ticks her chin to the side for you to follow. leaving dorcas behind a few paces away, you are fully subjected to her attention, “how are you feeling? no headaches, i hope?”

“no,” you say, “much better now. have i received any visitors while i was sleeping?”

whatever madam pomfrey expected, it is not that. her mouth pinches, and she glances to the side, “quite a few. besides miss meadowes, mister regulus black, miss narcissa black, and your brother were here first thing in the morning to see you,” her gaze then shifts, once again, investigative, though much kinder, “mister rosier and mister crouch also came to visit, though i had to ask them to leave because of the ruckus they were making. the nott siblings also stopped by,” she then starts naming surnames you know, but not too intimately: the slytherin prefects, half of your house, the gaggle of students in theodore’s circle, just to name a few.

warily, you glance behind you. if dorcas is at all moved by the impressive amount of people coming to check on your wellbeing, she doesn’t show it. rather, she’s examining her nailbeds closely, as though she isn’t listening (which cannot be true, as she’s proven awfully noisy). 

“… i see,” you utter once madam pomfrey finishes. out of all of those wonderful people, two seem to be missing: matilda and sirius. not that you are much mourning the former, but the latter’s absence seems to confirm a terrible thing – sirius simply did not care nor want to see you. maybe the news really did make him happy, a metaphorical icing on his birthday cake.

surely dorcas would know more, but your tongue doesn’t form the words once you receive madam pomfrey’s blessing to abate this cursed chamber and go back to your common room. the silence haunts behind you, broken by dorcas’ steps and the odd hum she sounds when pretending to be unaffected.

she nudges your shoulder, “don’t look so glum. everyone but professor dumbledore and the minister didn’t visit you. blimey, now that i think about it, i don’t even know that many people. let alone friends. cheer up, won’t you?”

yes, exactly, why didn’t you think of that sooner? surely any problem can be fixed with a quick and easy smile. your attempt is met with a snort, “right, maybe not.”

“were you expecting some else?” dorcas continues. the mirth has waned a little.

suppose it won’t hurt too much to admit. it can’t hurt more than this, “…yes.”

“your friend?” she ventures, recalling the drowsy october rain prattling on the loo’s windows.

“i’m not sure he’d call himself that anymore,” you mumble with a weary sigh.

dorcas scoffs, “what a wanker. no need for friends like that. i mean, what could be more important? can’t think of anything that would stop me from checking on a friend if they fell ill, even if we had a row.”

his birthday, you want to say, but don’t. somehow, if dorcas were to attach his name to the situation, you feel it would morph into something unrecognizable. they’re in the same house, and thus, they must share at least a hello or perhaps even a conversation every now and again. dorcas has never really alluded to anything like that, but she enjoys quidditch, and already has more to speak of with him than you.

however… you take a better look at her in the shifting light. surely she knows he and regulus are siblings, and surely she’s seen how close you and regulus are. maybe she already knows the name of the mysterious friend, and simply chooses not to say anything for your sake.

one day, you’ll ask her. for now, though, “do you want to go for a broom ride?”

she blinks, eyes twinkling, “now?” half-scandalized, you’d think she’s not enamoured with the idea.

“it’s not curfew yet,” you say.

“’s snowing, though. won’t you get cold? you’ve just left the hospital wing. i know madam pomfrey seems nice, but she’d probably pinch my ear and drag me all the way to mcgonagall if you ended up back there because of me.”

you stop, “do you want to go or not?”

she halts as well, uncertain. shifting from foot to foot, finally, she relents, “oh, bloody hell. fine, alright.”

[fiyaa-xoxo]

Hello~ I apologize to flooding your ask box.

I just found out that according to Trey, he said Heartslabyul students are allowed to ask for anything for their birthday... It i's one of the Queen of Hearts' laws after all ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

So, can I request a scenario/headcanons that the reader/mc/Yuu ask to borrow Heartslabyul students out for a date or sthg for their birthday... What kind of things they will do and how will they react to such request and such...

Thank you and apologies if this request is hard to write 😅 Hope you'll have a lovely day 💕

Law No. 538 of the Queen of Hearts: The one with the birthday are allowed to ask anything for their birthday. Yuu's request to have a date with the Heartslabyul boys!! How will they react and what will they do in their date? PT.1 (Riddle Rosehearts, Cater Diamond, & Trey clover)

Hello you mustn't worry about flooding my ask box because you'r the only who has requested some writing from me. I'll do my very best to write your request, i truly hope you enjoy what i've written. Its not the best since i didn’t know what to write for some of them.And i’m teribly sorry that this request is long due i’ve been having writers block.

Riddle Rosehearts

✧˚ · . Red, Riddles face even redder than his hair. At first you thought that he was mad at you but he was just flustered. You two decided to have a private tea party in the middle of the rose maze. Riddle asked trey to bake your favorite sweets! And if your not super into sweets trey made some other foods fit for your taste. Everything was prepared just for you though some parts of the tea party were against the Rules Riddle did his best not the change anything since it was how you liked it. 

✧˚ · .When you two finished eating the food trey prepared Riddle handed you something “My Dearest Rose, since today is a special day your birthday i made sure that everything is perfect even my gift. I do wish you will enjoy what i have bought for you” After Riddle said that you opened the elegantly wrapt red and black box inside held a Stunning Rose Ring.  “Riddle.. Its beautiful thank you so much” 

“ Im glad you liked it i do wish you wear it someday My rose.This ring shows how much i love you.” By the end of the day Riddle dropped you off at Ramshakel And pulled you into a kiss and bid you a goodnight. When you closed the door you were a blushing and smiling mess.After that day you swore to yourself you’d always wear and keep the ring safe.

Cater Diamond 

✧˚ · .When cater heard what you said he was over the moon! “Aww our Y/nie wants to spend their birthday with me!! Don’t worry Y/n i’ll make sure you’// enjoy our little date 😉” You two decided to café hop everything you two bought will be payed by Cater so don’t you worry about losing money! Cater kept on taking pictures of you and the food. He couldn't help it you just looked so pretty. When you offered to feed Cater some of your Sandwich he made sure to take pics of it. 

✧˚ ·After you guys left the Café it was around sunset. Cater lead you to a park when you got to the park the tree’s were filled with lights and there was a fountain in the middle it looked so magical! Cater brought you near the fountain and handed you a orange paper bag. “Happy birthday Y/n i hope you like the gift!!” When you removed the wrapping paper that was on top of the bag it showed a painting of you and cater “Riddle nagged me to do some painting to get off my phone so. I made this for you!” “Hope you like it” “Cater i don’t like it..... I love it!! thank you!!!” “nice to hear Y/niee, i have one more gift too” After Cater said that he pulled you into a long kiss. Cater dropped you back to your dorm and gave u another peck on the lips.

✧˚ · When you got changed into something more comfortable your phone had lot of notifications from Magicam. You were tagged in a post with a lot of pictures from today even a pic of you and cater kissings!! but you remembered Cater didn’t take any pictures when you two got in to the park. Little did you know Cater used his unique magic and made the other caters hide behind bush's and climbed tree’s just to get pictures.Oh and the picture cater gifted you is safely placed on top of your nightstand.

Trey Clover

✧˚ · .Trey was quite shocked when you said you wanted to go on a date with him for your birthday.But he was also touched that you wanted to spend time with him. You decided to take a cooking class. Since trey is mostly good at baking you thought why not also enhance his cooking skills. The two of you arrived at the cooking class located in a restaurant near the plaza of the town. " Welcome, Welcome!!" said the hostess in the front " Are you two love birds here for the cooking class?" both you and trey blushed when the hostess addressed you two as "love birds" "a-ah.. yes we're here for the cooking class.. but we arnt a couple yet.. haha" said trey. "Ah my apologies i thought u two were with how cute you both look together.But moving on please enter this room, this is where the cooking class will be held." said the hostess with a smile.

✧˚ · You can trey entered the room which held a kitchen in. You both go seated and the class begun. "Hello everybody i am chef Andre, for today we will be learning how to makespaghetti and meatballs from scratch." The chef explained and demonstrated how to make the noodles and sauce and now he let you and the other attendee's start making on your own. Trey started off by making the pasta and kneading flour and eggs. "This is just like making dough in baking" said trey. You couldnt help yourself from staring at Trey. He has his sleeves rolled up exposing his forearm. Trey was well built himself. As you stared at him u didnt see that he threw a bit of flour at you "finally i have your attention again" he said chuckling "a-ah sorry about that.." u said

✧˚ · "Dont worry about it im just about done with the pasta and the sauce is done too" TIME SKIP You and trey finally finished cooking and was now cleaning off the flour he threw you. "sorry about that" trey said as he held your chin cleaning off the flour from your face

as he smirked. "Its fine" you said blushing. The pasta you both made was being packaged for you two to take back home. You both left the restaurant and walked back to the dorm. When u made it back to your dorm trey was walking with you towards the front door before he suddenly stopped "Ah wait before i forget here my gift for you y/n" he said smiling. He gave you a green colored big box. As you opened it held your favorite dessert. "I made it myself. It took me multiple tries to get it perfect just for you...Ah one more thing..." he took out a pair of van cleef black clover earrings . "I hope you like them" he said looking at you. "Trey... i love them thank you!!" u then went closer to try and kissed him. "Thank you for making today even more special" you said smiling ear to ear. "Its my pleasure y/n. Now go head inside i'll see you again tomorrow" he then winked. "Ah and dont forge to brush your teeth after eating the dessert" He gave u a kiss on your cheek then waved goodbye.

Requests are open!! ^^

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[theyungihven]

stranger danger ⁕ seonghwa

HALLOWEEN SPECIAL

☆ pairing: vampire seonghwa x human reader

☆ genre: mystery, fantasy

☆ warnings: mentions of blood

☆ word count: 1.0k+

☆ synopsis : On the night of the harvest party, when the moon is high in the sky, the last thing you wanna see is your senior crush dressed up as Dracula walking up to your with a glass of red wine in his gloved hands.

The harvest party which is held annually by your school, is an event of socialites who post every breathing second of their life online and then complain about their non-existent privacy.

Surely, it is not an event relevant to you but after you heard one of the popular girls say the seniors are going to be there, especially the student council head, there wasn’t a reason left for staying back.

Hwa or Park as his mates call him, is the student council head whose title draws unwanted attention and crushes, but considering that handsome face of his, he deserves every bit of it.

His dark hair and strong facial structure paired with his dark persona are major factors drawing the attention of every soul in your school. No wonder he was voted the most good-looking senior during the homecoming. 

Now, enough of spilling tea about your crush.

The night dawns upon the city which lights up in shades of red and orange as it celebrates the very spirit of Halloween while some, the festival of harvest.

A glimmering orange object greets the dark sky of the city with its appearance after almost 100 years and spreads an eerie vibe across the streets. The harvest moon, unveiling itself like a shy bride after ages that even your grandmother remembers sighting it when she was too little.

You rush to pretty up yourself for the event and stumble upon your costume placed on the mirror’s wooden frame. Your fingers brush against the blue jacket’s soft material, imagining yourself in it tonight, at the party with your freshly dyed ginger hair.

‘I’ll look ridiculous!’ you think as you pull it off the mirror frame and place it on your bed. 

You wonder how your friends will react to you dressing as Max from the famous Netflix Show Stranger Things. Sure, she is one of your favourite characters but the ginger hair looks a bit odd against your skin. 

You push your overwhelming negative thoughts away and rush to the bathroom with your makeup supplies in a hurry. The event starts at 8 pm after sunset and the sky looks pretty dark from your bathroom vent so you rush with the bath and dry yourself up before jumping in a bathrobe and starting your makeup.

You start with straightening your ginger hair and tying it into a loose ponytail that falls on your shoulders then with light makeup to fill your orange eyebrows and blush your cheeks. Next comes the impossible task of putting in the blue contacts which you fail at so you have to ask your mom to help since your only sibling is out of town for their college.

The last and final task is putting on the outfit, the easiest and you get it done in 10 mins. Phew! For the final check, you look in the mirror one last time and head out with your vintage earphones across your neck and a cassette player in your hands playing Running up that Hill.

The party is a hit, obviously, with many recognizable faces from your school and town, including some passed out alumni who have come back for a get-to-together this fall. Most prone to attention as always is a tall boy, whose face you fail to see due to the sheer lace mask covering it.

He’s dressed in a black outfit consisting of a waistcoat upon a white ruffled blouse and with a long cape falling down his shoulder till his knees which saves him from the chilling air of the evening. It reminds you of Dracula, the infamous vampire.

As time passes, you exchange hundreds of glances with the vampire throughout the evening, most of which you shy away from due to heat coiling in your stomach from the intensity of his stares. His crimson orbs shine reflect the bright light of the bonfire burning across him under whose warmth you both stand without freezing in the cold of the night.

He advances forward, with his gaze fixed in your direction or perhaps on your figure. With small, soft steps he grows closer to you and finally graces your company. He raises his glass, slightly bowing his head as he introduces himself as Dracula, but you are familiar with every inch of his existence and guessed his real identity within seconds of smelling his cologne.

It is no surprise, the school president, the infamous Park Seonghwa is standing beside you but something about him or maybe his energy sends chills down your spine. Something, which screams you to RUN!! 

You don’t, and he asks, “trick or treat?”, to which you answer to treat and he offers you his glass of wine. You happily drink without refusing because you simply didn’t dare to decline your crush’s request.

“I hope you’re in for a treat tonight.” His soft voice whispering as his hot flutters against your ear is the last thing you hear before your head twirls in a circle and you fall prey to the potion you drank only to wake up with bite marks on your neck and in your apartment bed with a note saying.

Trick or Treat? 

your vampire crush

[pygmypouter]

play date

[chibi-celesti]

Time for Your Tune Up(Skully J. Graves)

~TFYTU~

Skully still found this Halloween to be one for him and Jack to remember! Twelve mysterious individuals(and a cute cat mascot!) in outfits in homage of his dear hero, Jack Skellington, shook him down all the way to the marrow of his bones! He (minorly) forgave them for their ignorance of not knowing who Skellington-sama was. They were on thin ice.

The tour he gave them of Halloween Town was sublime. Their curiosity of knowing an elusive admirable king of Scares. An entrepreneur of fears. A God among the dead(take it down a notch, Scully)! He reveled in being their guide of this town he and many call home.

He was swept up in speaking about such history, he neglected to see that his entourage had slowed in their pace. Skully snapped his neck so quickly as he saw them talk amongst themselves. Slithering in the shadows he strained his ears, red eyes glimmering in excitement at what gossip he will hear.

“- need someone to stay with him.”

‘Him?’ Which him is it? Skully thought owlishly.

“He does look seconds away from vomiting his lungs out.”

Blood orange eyes beamed hearing that. ‘Oooooo! Sounds exciting!’

“Does he even have any on his person?”

‘Any what exactly?’ Curiosity will kill him(happily), Skully creeped behind the crowded boys and cat.

“I doubt it. And our magic isn't strong enough to craft into existence.”

“Craft what exactly?”

The NRC students, sans a few, jumped at the sudden sound of their host's voice. “EEKK!/ Why You-!”

He only laughed at the terror he bestowed them. “You should've seen your faces. They were filled with so much dread. I love it!”

“...” The others were not as amused as he was. And I’m sure most of them popped a blood vessel.

“Is there an issue, Skully-san?” Riddle asked, keeping his temper in check.

“I was wondering what your little tea party was all about. You suddenly stopped following me. I was getting lonely.” He cried.

“It's nothing to worry about, Skully-san.”

“You sure, Jamil-chan. You were all whispering about someone seconds away from vomiting their lungs out~”

“You were eavesdropping?!”

“You boys weren't subtle about your group huddle. Ghosts, the wind; even the Hills and spider infested catacombs and mausoleum have ears and listen to everything.”

“...”

“...”

“Our friend is a little lightheaded. He needs to take his medicine to fix it, but unfortunately neither he nor us have any extras on our persons.”

“I see, I see.” It was obvious to him which of these brats’ health wasn't doing too great. “Could it be your colorful friend, Yumei-chan?”

“How did-!” A bone decorated glove fixed his glasses, and then casually pointed to the boy in question sleeping on the ground by the fountain like a corpse. “And you're not quite subtle.”

The boy with the eyepatch-Leona-growled at him. ‘How cute,’ He thought.

“Y-yes. We're worried about him, and were thinking about finding a way to help him.” The smaller boy-Epel-confessed.

‘Is that so?’“Hmmm~. Perhaps I can be of assistance~”

“Say that again?”

“May I be of assistance to your friend? Surely there's something I can do to help.”

“I seriously doubt it. A deranged weeabo of your stature would react like any normie unused to this.”

“I concur.” Vil agreed with Idia.

“Come now, mina-san. Do you all really wish to argue, or do you want your friend to live?”

That was quick enough to stop their arguing. He couldn't help but laugh at their collective reluctance for his help. “Fine. But be quick about it!”

Malleus Draconia, who was a bit more protective over the ailing boy, stepped away so Skully could get closer. He gave a quick glance at the symptoms shown on Yumei’s face and body language. Grave’s deduction skills were spot on; another like he needed that particular geode to live. Good thing he came prepared.

He cleared his throat. “This will need a bit more of a special touch from me. I do apologize in advance, gentlemen.”

“Huh?” They all said.

Carefully the eccentric boy peeled away Yumei’s collar, exposing his Installer Port on his neck. He internally squealed at the sight, and leaned ever so close…

A small moan escaped from unconscious lips, as Yumei twisted and turned from the sensation on his most sensitive part of his body. His classmates’ jaws hit the floor witnessing Graves committing an adulterous act on their friend. ‘WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH PROVIDING AID TO HIM!?!?!?’ They all thought.

Despite the unconscious state he was in, the Reyvateil whined and clung to Skully as he kissed and licked at his Port shamelessly. Tears prickling his eyes all the while Skully was intimate with his neck.

If there was a time they wished they had their magic on them it would be now. The whole NRC group suffered the seven stages of shock, unyielding rage, and envy(except for Grim who was hiding in Tsunotarou's jacket, and Epel whose eyes were covered by Vil the moment it started). Even Trey and Jae, the most(somewhat) reserved boys were debating on either reprimanding Skully, or think of millions gruesome ways to beat him up.

The shaggy haired boy left Yumei’s neck with one last kiss, and casually pulled out a Life Extending Agent from his tailcoat pocket. He placed the Agent right on the Port and smiled, seeing the worried lines and wrinkles fade away leaving the bluenette in a state of peace.

Trey blinked his eyes many times trying to process what he just witnessed. “He…had one?”

“You…all this time, you had one?”

“WHAT BLASPHEMY IS THIS!?!?! HOW DID YOU PROCURE A DIQUILITY CRYSTAL, HUMAN?!”

“That, my friends, is a secret I'll take to my grave~” He grinned, drinking in the Night Raven students’ frustration.

Later, back home in Twisted Wonderland:

Yumei was rubbing at his neck carefully, minding the placement of his port. He couldn’t shake off this nagging sensation forming in his mind.

“Oi, Yumei. You ok?”

“I’m fine, Grim,” He petted his companion.

“Promise.”

“You keep rubbing at your neck. What gives?”

“I dunno. It’s like, someone touched it, but like…” He shook his head. “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing, my high end! Spill it to your boss!”

“No!”

“C’mon! Please?”

“No.”

“Please, with a tuna can on top~”

“NO! Last thing I want is to traumatize you again!” He donned his witch’s hat.

“I was not traumatized!” He turned his away in denial.

“Sure~” He picked up his furry friend. “Now, let’s go trick-or-treating!”

“Candy time~~~”

They stepped out of the decorated Ramshackle and ran into the festivities of Halloween in Twisted Wonderland, passing by many visitors who came by on campus. Almost bumping into a shaggy, black and white haired youth with orange eyes.

“Ah! So sorry. I was in a hurry and-”

Blood orange eyes and a small smile acquainted the duo. “It’s fine. Just be mindful of your surroundings~” He kissed the Reyvateil’s hand, and then Grim’s forehead, which earned him a complaint.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry again.” He bowed before taking off. The eyes of the odd stranger never left his form, even after he vanished into the crowd.

[junos-jrabbles]

oh god oh no there's a small angry man in a small angry car watch out!!!

authors note except all i say is im using a comically long lead to get wifi from my phone because my laptop absolutely HATES this internet, it's like a handbag chihuahua that's used to brita filter water like no. please. i need to use tumblr stop doing this to me. anyway!! cw// you guys get hit by a car but its fine, the other possible ending involved a penny farthing, so prompt from scealaiscoite's november prompt list! (hope that hyperlinked right)

November 1st - Traffic Lights, Sniper x reader, 1.2k words

Dimmed headlights whizzed by opposite you two on the long, two lane road. It wasn't late, not particularly, but with it being early winter, the nights had began to grow much darker and colder, much quicker.

It was only maybe… You look down at his wrist, hand laid listlessly onto the rim of the steering wheel, and manage to make out that it was only about five in the afternoon. “The shop’ll be shut in a bit less than an hour, how long until-”

A short cough interrupts you, and blue eyes, muddied by orange hued aviator's flick your way. “Not long, s’third time you've asked. In a rush to get the boys their dinner, ey?” The base had run out of the basics. Soldier, of course, preferred practicing the precise art of rocket jumping over doing the weekly shopping.

“Well, yeah, there's at least three of you who'll kill me if they don't get their milk in their tea or coffee, and I'm sure even you can appreciate a good tray of lasagna, of which we've run out.” No lasagna sheets, a travesty, of course you were eager for a shopping trip.

The camper's less worn passenger seat still creaks beneath you as you adjust, the sound barely audible over the engine's low hum, but you feel it against your backside. “Hey, who knows, maybe this was actually a ploy to hang out with you for twenty minutes.” He doesn't respond, and you think your attempt at a joke had fallen flat until a small, low chuckle rumbles out to your side.

“Yeah well… it's a good one, I s’pose. Wouldn't take much bribery mind, had to tell you not to bother with gas money a few too many times anyway.” He chortled softly, and cocked a leg to the side, knobbly knee bapping against yours over the low center console. In response, you roll your eyes and knock his leg back.

“Alright, alright, I'll make sure to beg you to take my ten bucks even harder next time.” And with that, a lull in conversation develops. There wasn't really much to talk about, anyway. The view wasn't exactly spectacular, the seats, and even the camper itself were a bit stiff, jostling as he'd adjust his foot on the accelerator.

The night sky and air filtered in through the barely rolled open window in a low whistle, tone fluctuating with the speed, radio crackling away in the background as you look out your window, barely making out the shadows and shapes of the rolling, sandy hills.

Five, maybe ten minutes pass of comfortable silence between both parties, until the camper whistles to a stop at a red light. You drum your fingers against your thigh, and huff a small sigh.

“I didn't say it quite right.” He's looking away as he speaks, words nothing much more than an airy utterance, rolling a bead of torn faux leather between the fingers of his gloved hand, he continues, “I really don't erh… Mind… You. Y’know?”

Whatever he's trying to say still isn't coming out right, and you’re staying quiet. He knows you're trying to let him get his words out, the look on your face says that much, but there's not enough air in here, so he rolls his window lower.

“As in, I don't mind you coming in here, like, to chat, or hang out or whatever–, I know you've seen me shoo Scout out a couple times,” He sounds more nervous than usual as he laughs, shifts, and leans forward to look up at the light, still glowing a deep red. “And that's cause he's a prick.” He clarified with a huff, and sits back.

“You're a bit less of a prick.”

You've sat back too, by this point, arms crossed over your chest, body turned towards him, attentive to his words. You didn't see him this… Concerned over his words often. For someone who's usually quite cool, calm and collected, especially with his marksmanship, he sure seemed a little muddled.

“You're lucky I don't take offense to that.” You laugh softly, reaching over and patting his arm. He seems to flinch at the touch, but relaxes quickly. “A bit less of a prick, yeah, fuck off dickhead.” You push him lightly and lean back, huffing with faux indignance.

“Thanks, though, I mean…” You knew no one really came up to hang out with him, but had always assumed he just didn't really like the company much. “Thought it'd be a bother if I came around. Plus, I'm not eating feckin’... Rabbit on a stick, or whatever you have for dinner, sorry mate.”

You laugh, he laughs, and clarifies. “Lizard, actually.” You shudder.

“Yeah, well, I'm not eating lizard either- You should come eat dinner in the base sometime.” You remember seeing him eat dinner with the rest maybe… twice? Usually when you all have to move to a new base, he'll come down, help set stuff up, have dinner, then go back to the camper.

“Engie makes the most fucking spectacular short ribs ever, genuinely, I bet you'd like ‘em. They're not emu ribs or nothin’, but they're real good.” Suddenly, a car which neither of you had realised had pulled up behind you, starts absolutely sounding away, blaring the horn and making wild gestures out the window.

“Bloody- Feckin' yobbo- Right!” He huffs annoyedly, shaking his head as you both realise the light had gone green, the camper snorts back to life, jittering as you two skid forward, your hands instinctively reaching down to grasp the sides of your seat.

It takes a minute until the camper settles back into a normal pace, and his shoulders can relax. “I'll try ‘em sometime. Who's cooking tonight?” Longest traffic light of your lives, you're sure.

“Me, or– Well, it was going to be Pyro, but, given how the morning's pancakes went,” Charred, maybe possibly entirely inedible, even if they'd tell you otherwise, “I thought it'd be best to take over… I'm sure I can convince Engie to make his ribs if you're wanting.” You hum, and settle back into the seat, glancing back over your shoulder to see the small, black car eagerly tailgating you two.

“What're you making?” He asks, voice as clipped and curt as usual, before he clears his throat.

“I’ll come down for tonight, seeing as you're all clearly missing me.” He chuckles, but it's halfhearted, you meet the laugh halfway, nerves stir in your stomach as the car continues to beep behind you. You're trying to psychically explode the driver's head.

“Well, f’course, you're part of the team, you've got your own room n’all.” You mutter, eyebrows furrow, and you reach forward to dial the radio louder, trying to drown out the incessant beeping.

“Fuckin' bed's probably gone mouldy mind–” Another red light, great. The camper jitters, slowing with the quiet squeal of brakes, when, suddenly— BANG– You both jolt forward, Sniper slaps one arm across your chest trying to hold you back, winding you somewhat in the process as he darts forward, a loud, droning growl of a groan rolling from him.

“Oh for fucks sake!” He cries out. You're clutching the seatbelt, glad you'd been clever enough to put it on when you'd gotten in, hissing in pain from the friction of it, and praying the other car had crumpled like a tissue. ~~~~~~~ the end !! this has literally taken me an hour to try and sort out on this laptop god help me i love and hate this thing,, anyway enjoy this mid little thing you can definitely tell i haven't written in ages LOL they definitely did not get to the shops in time, rip 2 lasagna night

[chrisisvbun]

So... more logan x argentinian male reader.

Us Argentinians drink a lot of alcohol since we are really young, also, usually, we smoke from a really young age too (I started drinking at 14 and smoking at 15), so reader would have a broad resistance to alcohol.

That means drinking contests, in which Logan wins but almost passes out.

You giving Logan new drinks or new combinations that aren't really common in North America.

"Why are you mixing vodka with juice..?" "It's tasty..." "... Are you a fucking child?"

If Logan already judges you for drinking fucking vodka on a daily basis, he threatens to dump your ass when you pour the orange juice.

"Why is this shit so tart?" "It's fernet con coca!" "Fernet with what? Cocaine?"

Although, Logan pretends that he is not really surprised when you bring him dulce de leche, until you find him licking the empty jar with his beard covered in it like a fucking animal.

"..." "My dulce de leche :(" "I'll buy you another one, don't be dramatic."

And removing dulce de leche from hair is hard (from experience)

"Maybe I'll have to cut off your beard" "WHAT!? Get the fuck away from me, not gonna fucking do that."

Now, when Logan hears the razor at night, he instantly runs away.

Okay, now, trying to be cutes here.

When Logan noticed that he was head over heels for you, it was a rainy day, and all of the kids took advantage of it to stay in their rooms.

But you were no kid. He saw you with a chair sitting on the porch of the mansion by yourself, drinking one of your weird drinks while watching the rain.

"What's that?" He said, his voice much softer. "Mate" You smiled proudly at him. "Wanna try?".

Logan tries and he doesn't like it, of course. "It's like a weird tea." You giggle and he smiles.

Logan sits next to you, pretending to watch the rain for a second, but he is just focusing on sensing the warm that you emanate because you are sitting really close to him.

Logan lights a cigar as he pretends to focus on the rain before he talks. "What are you doin' here by yourself?"

You looked at him a second before drinking another mate. "I really like the rain." You said softly. "Here, when it rains, all activities stop, but in Argentina... you couldn't ever stop." You chuckled before drinking.

Logan looked at you confused before you spoke again. "I would love getting in my room, but... I can't." You shrugged.

"Why is that?" "Everyone is... missing someone." Logan raised an eyebrow until he realized it was your mutation. "And I miss someone too, which I don't want to, so I won't stop until the rain stops." You chuckled.

Logan looked at you, talking the smoke out. "Who do you miss?"

You smiled after you swallowed your drink. "Mi vieja, mi viejo, my sisters, mi abu." You sighed. "You know, it's amazing how there, they won't judge you for anything. My parents had the same reaction when I told them I was gay and when I told them I could hear people's thoughts." You chuckled again. "And I thought here would be even better, but..." You shrugged. "Qué se le va a hacer."

And Logan knew why he fell in love with you in that moment. You were real. Not like Scott, not like Storm, not like Jean. You weren't the prodigy boy, or the hegemonic, strong woman, and you weren't the smartest scientist. You were the best at what you did, you were an amazing phycologist, and the kids loved you, but that was your world, you didn't want to be the best superhero ever, because you could help from the inside of the head.

You've mentioned in casual parties with the rest that, in Argentina, there were a lot of amazing psychologists, and that it was one of the most common jobs there. But Logan didn't buy it, because, for him, you were the best. He didn't believe that everyone in that country was as amazing with the kids as you, and that was due to your mutation.

After the raining day, he pays more attention to you. He watches you talk to Rouge, to Kitty, to Bobby, to John, to Piotr. He watches how they come out of your consultation with relaxed shoulders, like they just left a heavy bag.

When Bobby leaves your office, he approaches, trying not to think to loud, but you are already giggling, so he sighs.

"Yes or no?" You laugh. "I'll be ready by eight." You smiled before getting inside of the office. Logan sighs but laughs.

That handsome Argentinian telepath.

An answer for this request.

[alexiavettel]

Ten things I hate about you

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k+

warnings: age gap, explicit language, allusions to sex, drinking, mentions to death, motorsport accident, angst sometimes, rbr mentions (ew), Horner mentions (he’s not the bad here), no use of Y/n, Daniel Ricciardo is a walking cliché (it’s actually cute for me) and Michael and Scottie are actually babies. 

summary: The ten reasons why you hate Daniel Ricciardo through the years. But remember, the line between hate and love is thin, be careful…

I hate the way you talk to me,

“What are you doing here kid? This is an adult RedBull party, you shouldn’t be here”

“Shut up Ricciardo, I deserve to be here as much as you”

“For being the boss daughter? Wow how deserving!” 

“And what are you doing here? I thought you jumped off last year”

“Y’know gal once you go Danny Ric you never want to go back, your daddy likes me so here I am”

“Dear god, I thought that after you were a coward and moved to Renault I would never have see you again out of the paddock” 

“You don’t what you’re talking about, girl” the older man towers over you in the corner of the saloon.

“So unbothered until someone call you coward, right? You’re childish Ricciardo, that’s what you are”

She hates when he calls her kid. 

and the way you cut your hair.

“Oh my god what have you done, cowboy?” 

“Liked the new cut, golden girl?”

“Wow stopped calling me kid, it’s a significant development Ricciardo”

“Want me to come back calling you kid? ‘Cause I don’t mind”

“Shut up, and to be honest no. I don’t like it, the new cut just shows your age better you’re almost going bald man be careful” you said laughing.

“What wait really?”

“Your hairline looks like circuit corners, to be honest. But hear my wise words big boy, let it grow more than you’re used to. Curls look good on you”

Daniel always have his curls looking good now. 

I hate the way you drive my car.

“C’mon girl, you drunk too much” 

“OH DANIEL! What are you doing here, handsome?!” you might had a little too much long island iced teas

“M’gonna take you home, come on” he took your both hands and led you to the exit

“What about my car? She’s my precious daughter I can’t leave Daisy alone!”

“You named your car? You scare me sometimes little girl… You’re lucky I took an Uber, ‘gimme the keys” 

“Don’t talk about Daisy like that!” you drunkenly shouted in the parking lot

“You’re joking you drive a manual! You have a fucking Supra what are you? Brian O’Conner?” he put you in the passenger seat and belt you on.

“Not like you’re not a fucking formula one driver, huh? Lucky me! And don’t talk about Daisy like t-that she’s purple not orange like in fast and furious” He just rolled his eyes and started driving.

“Didn’t know you could drive, even more a manual”

“You say that because you never saw me drifting”

They spend the next night drifting in an empty parking lot. 

I hate it when you stare.

“What are you looking at mate?” Nico asked the younger man

“N-Nothing” he stopped staring at you across the paddock

“Hmm ‘nothing’ right? The ‘nothing’ you mentioned is that one covered in Red Bull merch staring back smiling right now?” Daniel immediately looked back searching for your smile but just found you laughing at one of Albon’s jokes.

She felt his eyes burning into her, she always did. 

I hate your big dumb combat boots,

“Ouch! Daniel!” You shouted after he stepped on your foot in the middle of a dinner at your dad’s house with some friends, former drivers. 

“Sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean it” he gently caressed your hair with an apologising smile 

“Okay but why the fuck are you wearing combat boots? It’s a dinner Dan, I thought you had a better sense of style”

“Sorry darling it’s not about the boots, it’s my big feet and y’know what they say-“

“Shut up, Ricciardo”

He gifted her a pair of combat boots on her birthday. She wears it at every opportunity. 

and the way you read my mind.

“Stop. Stop thinking too much” he caressed your cheek 

“But I am not-“

“Yes you are, I can almost hear your thoughts and I know they are plenty. Just don’t make a big deal out of it, if you want to stop and pretend I never kissed you we can do it…”

“No-"

He kissed her goodbye that night, and did it almost all the others nights too. 

I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme.

“I have something for you… I asked Michael to put it in your driver's room” you quietly whispered while passing through him in the McLaren hospitality 

“Late valentines' gift, darling?” he said laughing.

“Maybe…”

You were scared of being a little too fast, but it was inevitable. You hate the things he makes you feel.

When the man found the sunflowers in his bed he was beyond surprised. But the two letters between the yellow fresh plants made a glint appear in his eyes. The first one had “about you and me” written down in the envelope. 

“I have sat upon the seashore

and washed away my fears.

I have lived so many days now

that they are turning into years.

I have walked up in mountains.

I have splashed around in streams.

I have conjured up ideas

that have moulded into dreams.

I have seen a thousand faces

And I've matched a thousand smiles.

I have been to so many places

that I'm losing count of miles.

I have heard the wind, so gently,

cause the trees to creak and moan,

but I have never felt a heart

as perfect as your own”

And the second one had “about your eyes” written down in brown tint. 

“You hated your eye colour,

called it a dull and dirty brown

Wished for the deep blue of an ocean,

where admirers hearts would drown

And it pained me when I realised,

you'd never see it like I do

The way your eyes hint a story,

that I want to read right through

They hold specks of stolen sunlight,

that you'd miss with just one glance

And a depth of raw emotion,

that can freeze you in a trance

They're a fix of melted chocolate,

when I'm craving something sweet

But hold a gaze that's so unwatering,

that I find it hard to meet

I fall right down the rabbit hole,

when I look into your eyes

The brown of earth's unfettered beauty,

that I yearn to memorise

When I was tired of not belonging,

they made me feel like I'd been found

And I hope you never say again,

That your eyes are simply brown.”

He even posts pics of his eyes now.

I hate it, I hate the way you’re always right.

“You need to stop running away! You want to end this or not? You want to keep hiding us from your dad like an afraid little kid? I do EVERYTHING to be with you but in the moment it gets a ‘little too real’ you run! That’s what you always do!” Daniel never screamed at you but today has been an exception.

“You don’t understand, Daniel! It’s not just my dad, it’s a lot more complicated than that!-” you mourn sitting in the sofa

“What? Have you realised that I am ‘too old’ for you? That you are wasting your time with me? That the public and your family will criticise us?”

“You are not old for me, babe… But they will speak y’know? I hate the media speculating about me with every single driver, but what if that damages your future in another team? What if your fans start treating you differently alleging that you ‘groomed’ me since we have known each other since I was 18? What if-” you started walking towards him

“You are too much worried about me, darling. Think about yourself. Think about us, how happy we make each other. I know you’re scared, babe… But that is what would make me happier. We can wait how much you want but I’m scared too. I’m scared you’re going to leave me for someone better, you have so many options it just doesn't make sense why you chose me…” he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and caressed your cheek after

“I am never leaving you. I am just scared” his eyes gave you the comfort you were looking for, that you always searched

“But love is scary. Specially after we couldn't even tolerate each other and now we are, this” he pointed between you “I have fears and more fears with you, but our love is bigger than all of them. If you want to be with me, for real, you also have to learn to surpass your fear. We are a team, darlin’”

He was right. He always is.

I hate it when you lie.

“You are a fucking asshole, Daniel!” You shouted after closing his door.

“I am sorry-”

“No you don’t! You could’ve died, Daniel for god’s sake. You could’ve died and I would only know after receiving a hospital’s call. You lied to me, you promised ages ago that you would never… I don’t understand, like I really don’t.”

“Darling, listen-”

“Daniel, I can't hear your voice right now. It’s making me angrier and I don’t want to act irrationally”

“Can I just explain why I lied?”

“Now? No. Please go away, I really need to think. Alone.”

You don’t understand, he had a car accident during the testing for the 2021 season and said it was nothing much. You watched everything on tv and didn’t looked too bad, but you were worried either way. The g forces are too much sometimes, but he swore he was fine. Long story short, he was not. He literally disappeared for more than 24 hours and you were looking up plane tickets to Bahrain when Michael called you telling what happened.

When Daniel crashed a part of his helmet was broken, and his head hit the neck support. Obviously could’ve been worse, but the amount of blood that came out of him was scary. Michael send you some pics after you almost threatened him of death, he explained that Daniel had only a small opening in his neck. And he was conscious enough after the crash to get out of the car, message you and go walking to the medic station. But unfortunately one blood vessel has been hit in the process and he was having an internal haemorrhage.

The thing is, he was notified before the surgery and he answered your call saying that “I am completely fine darling, just gotta do some exams and gonna be back to sleep in the hotel in some hours. Don’t worry, I love you” the first time he really said those words, and could’ve been the last. 

She said I love you back. And took care of him until he was good to go back.

I hate it when you make me laugh, 

“Oh my fucking god, Daniel! My dad is going to kill us” you said laughing after being thrown in your father’s pool with Daniel. His Monza win meant more to you two than you had expected.

“He can kill me if he wants, but it was worthy. At least I’m going to die happy. I could die happy whenever I’m with you” he kissed you messily. 

“So cheesy, Dan ew. But if you really meant it, I hope it’s going to take a bit more to your death ‘cause I have no plans of ever leaving you”

“And I am the cheesy one-?”

“WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE DOING HERE?” Oh that must be your dad… oops?

He always loved her laugh, even when they hated each other… The sound of her laugh always was the closest thing to heaven, for him.

even worse when you make me cry.

“1st task: word search, find your gift.”

No fucking way, Ricciardo. You say “I’m sad” in one day, and in the next you wake up with this note in the bed. The only possible answer in this messy word search was office. When you got to his office desk a box of chocolates was waiting for you, with another note, this time in the format of a heart.

“2nd task: i need to be fixed, what am i?”

Just could be the wardrobe door, that shit almost knocked you up one day. Just right, honey. You found a little cute poem with another note.

“I don't want a fairytale

ending with you.

I want to be there

to help you face

your fears and 

to help you overcome

your failures.

I want to give you

the kind of love

that's not distorted

and fabricated,

but real, raw

and honest.”

“3rd task: complete the sentence, w__r_  __  _ s_en_  m__e  __me  on  _ho_e?”

With an embarrassing amount of time, you discovered to be “where do I spend more time on phone?” and that must be the main bathroom. In the mirror lipstick were marking the words

“4th task: i am in your most peaceful place”

with a little flower in the end. There’s only one place.

When you opened the wooden door that separates the living room from the garage and garden you felt tears burning your eyes. Daniel were sitting in the garden with sunflowers, picnic basket, plenty of fruits, drinks and food in general. 

“Sorry about the lipstick I used an old one and I swear I’m gonna clean after and-”

“You’re the most cheesy, cliche and argh I don’t even know what to- I fucking hate loving you!” How could you get so lucky? This 5’10’’ aussie, who has the biggest smile, loudest laugh, the best hug ever and seems like his life mission is making you the happiest person alive.

“Darling, don’t cry please! I hate when you cry!” he walked over you

“You were the one that made me cry!” you laughed sniffing giving a kiss in his cheek

“Eh… I might actually have one more thing…”

“What? I don’t think you can surprise or make me cry even more-” you said cleaning away your tears.

“Surprise!” You were wrong. Definitely wrong. Inside the picnic basket instead of more food was a little dog puppy, which couldn’t even open his eyes properly in this light. They furr shined in the sunlight, nose slightly scrunched and tail faintly moving side to side.

She thought the first time she would cry for a man, that it’s not her dad, would be after a heartbreak not for a cliché surprise.

I hate it when you’re not around.

“I’m sorry, babe. I promise after this work I’m gonna get on the first plane to you, and then we can enjoy my summer break together. I swear”

That was the third time he said it, the only time he promised tho. It’s hard to get that much time to spend with your boyfriend, and then he still works in his holidays.

He did what he promised but after 3 days. 3 whole days of his absence, it’s different when he’s in the paddock. At least you got a bit of him, the good morning and good night texts, facetime before sleeping and the most important thing of your life: your dog.

When he is not around, she feels like the loneliest person in the world.

and the fact you didn’t call.

It has been a while since that happened but you still remember how the feeling was. The feeling of being just a piece of meat, just drunk sex, a replacement, an embarrassment or worst, a regret.

Your first time with Daniel was after his win in Monaco, 2018. Both drunk not only in tequila and whiskey but in lust. To be honest you don’t remember much of this night, but you remember him. And he remembers you. His hands were imprinted on your curves. Your fingers tangled in his hair. When you woke up in an empty bed, in a hotel room that was not yours. You remembered all too well.

You remembered that he didn’t call. You remembered that he ignored you in the garage and the paddock. When you finally got to ask (you sneaked into his driver’s room) why he was running he admitted “I just can’t even think when you are around now! All I have is memories when I look at you, and that makes me fucking mad! It makes me wanna hate you more but also makes me wanna kiss you more and fuck you more and I can’t! We shouldn’t. It’s wrong. I assume the responsibility, I’m sorry”

That was the first and last time he didn’t call.

But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you,

Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

“So you hate loving me? Relax I hate loving you too” Daniel gave his characteristic laugh after you finished saying your poem at the end of your wedding vows.

•

“We are a team, in this life and all the others". That was the end of his vows, you could see he was shaking the entire time. You risk it looking at Michael and Scottie (obviously the best men) and they were crying like babies, pretty much more than you. 

“See why I hate loving you, Ricciardo” you mentioned cleaning your tears half laughing and you could hear the guests laughing with you. 

“You’re a Ricciardo now too, darlin’”

“You can kiss the bride now”

This was not the end. She still hates Daniel, everything about him, but especially, how much he was easy to love. He promised they were a team and he will always deliver on that, the love of this life of his and all the others too.

@laura-naruto-fan1998 enjoy <3

my taglist!!

[chrissdollie]

chris sturniolo dad!au masterlist ♡.｡.:*

introducing the kids! their music taste thoughts [0-100 words] clumsy girl (dad chris) - wc: 76

drabbles [100-500 words] fresh love for the fit - wc: 154 summary: chris and his eldest son matching fits priscilla at christopher's hockey game - wc: 132 summary: title richie has a crush - wc: 308 summary: richard has a crush on the next door neighbor and priscilla calls him out on it christopher (NSFW) - wc: 113 summary: naming your first kid during sex lmao dick - wc: 134 summary: richard asks why his name is richard sipping coffee with priscilla - wc: 108 summary: title bbq - wc: 123 summary: you and your husband host a small barbeque and everyone's sharing their opinions on his burgers toys and onesies - wc: 122 summary: chris giving his childhood toys to his kids & the special orange onesie messy vs messier - wc: 305 summary: your son is a messy eater- but your husband is worse boys are dumb - wc: 320 summary: summary: a boy wont go out with priscilla cause "she has no ass" rest in piece birdie - wc: 245 summary: joshua finds a lifeless bird in the backyard and proposes a funeral for him

oneshots [500-1.5k words] princess priscilla - wc: 522 summary: princess priscilla has a tea party a chaotic morning in the sturniolo household - wc: 714 summary: a rushed school morning

headcanons dad headcanons (this was before i assigned names and stuff) boy!dad chris (this was also before they were characters but just imagine this with chris jr and joshua)