#i need to chew on them like taffy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

horny-marbles · 1 month ago

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ꪶꪮꪜꫀ ꪗꪮꪊ ꪶỉƙꫀ ꪖ ᦔꪮᦋ (Ticci Toby x F!Reader)

CW: obsessive/stalker reader, angst with no comfort, verbal abuse, forced oral and anal (and ass to mouth soz if ur not into that), hate sex, lotta spit and slapping

word count 3.9k

guys i don't condone or romanticize this behaviour!! also this is kinda old lol

It wasn’t even a smile.

It could’ve been a twitch—just his face doing what it always does. A tic, involuntary and fleeting, the skin near his scarred cheek jumping just so, lips barely tugging. But it was enough. Enough to make your heart shudder like it was trying to punch its way out of your ribcage. Enough to rewire something deep in the grey matter of your brain.

You caught it in a hallway. Just a passing glance, a flicker of Toby's eyes toward you before he looked away. And that twitch, that almost-smile, settled into your bones like it belonged there. You didn’t smile back. You were too busy falling in love.

He looked tired. He always did. Restless hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, head low, a jittery edge in every step he took like his body was a cracked circuit. His movements were crooked. Unstable. Beautiful.

He was perfect.

You started following him. Not closely enough to be obvious—just enough to learn his patterns. How he’d disappear into the woods behind the mansion, dragging his axes behind him like a dog on a leash. How he’d sit near the creek and smoke until his hands stopped shaking. How sometimes he’d scream—ugly, broken, guttural, ragged things—like he was trying to rip something out of his own throat.

You never got scared. If anything, it made you ache for him. That kind of pain—it needed to be held. It needed to be cradled and worshipped, you thought.

You told yourself you weren’t being weird. It’s not like you were doing anything wrong. You were just watching. Learning. He was interesting. He was lonely. You could fix that.

You didn’t approach him. Not yet. He was skittish, like a stray, and you couldn’t risk scaring him off. No, if you wanted this to work, you had to play it right. You had to give him reasons to trust you.

To love you.

So you started small. A lighter on the step outside his room—one of those black Zippos with a flame etched on the front. You heard him mention in passing, voice low and fraying at the edges, how his last one got busted. You stole it from a gas station half a mile out.

Then the candy—peanut butter taffy, sticky and awful, the kind only freak kids liked. You knew because he said it once, muttered under his breath after a mission debrief that it used to be his favorite. It was old and half-melted when you left it near his room, but it didn’t matter.

What mattered was the perfume. Your perfume. Just a little spritz on every gift, every token of love. You wanted him to know. You wanted his nose full of you.

He tried to ignore it. You could feel him trying. But that didn’t stop him from pocketing the things. From taking the candy. From unwrapping the gum and chewing it like it didn’t come wrapped in the scent of your obsession. Like he doesn’t know it’s you.

But he knows. Of course he fucking knows. You’re not subtle.

You leave everything reeking of your perfume—heady, sweet, clinging like oil to his skin when he brushes against whatever you’ve touched. His pillow, one night. You only got a second in his room when no one was looking, when he wasn't around, but it was enough. You didn’t take anything. You didn’t leave anything.

But you couldn't help yourself. You just breathed the air he breathed, smelled him on his messy sheets, and your hand flew between your legs like it had a mind of its own. It was quick, but you swore that it was the best orgasm you've ever had.

You start writing notes next. Tiny, cryptic things. Folded tight and buried under the offerings.

“i like how you laugh when no one else is around.”

“i saw you last night. you looked tired. you should rest more.”

“you deserve good things, toby. i want to give them to you.”

You think you’re being sweet. Gentle. Loving.

He thinks you’re watching him.

Because you are.

He becomes... different. Quieter than usual. He walks faster when you’re in the same hallway. He twitches more violently when you’re near. There’s a nervousness in his eyes—like a dog expecting the boot. You think maybe he’s just shy. You think it’s cute.

So you don’t stop. You up the ante.

You start leaving things only someone close would know. His favorite pair of gloves—stitched back together where they ripped—left on his bed. A burned CD with a playlist of every song he’s ever lingered on too long in the common room. A pack of cigarettes, unfiltered, left on the ledge of his bedroom window... one of them already lit, smoke curling up like a kiss meant for his mouth.

He snaps one day. Not at you—yet.

Just in general. A loud “FUCK OFF—stop—stop giving me this shit!” that echoes through the hallway. You hear it through the wall and it makes you freeze. Then smile.

Because if he’s this upset... it means it’s getting to him.

You’re in his head now.

Right where you belong.

And then—

Tim.

Fucking Tim, of all people.

You hear him talking to Toby one night in the kitchen. Voice low and amused.

“She’s obsessed with you, dude. You should chill out, give her some attention. Get some bitches on your dick."

You hear Toby stutter, curse, throw something into the sink, voice hushed and paranoid, like he was expecting you to be close and listening. Fair.

“I d-don’t—sh-she’s f-freakin’ me out, man—fuck—sh-she’s everywhere!"

“Yeah, and? It’s not like she’s doing anything dangerous. Could be worse. Just let her crush burn out. Give her a cigarette or something. Jesus.”

And somehow—somehow—that works.

Because the next day, you’re out back, pretending to mind your business, and he shows up. Twitching, eyes flicking everywhere but your face, jaw clenched so tight it looks painful.

He lights one, doesn’t say a word.

Then holds it out to you.

You take it. You almost fucking cry.

Your lips touch the filter where his lips touched, so careful not to mess his bite mark on the filter. The taste of him, of nicotine and ash and heat, burns into your lungs like incense.

You tell yourself it means something.

And god help him—he lets you sit beside him that day. Not close. Not touching. But enough.

You retreat back to your room and shake through your whole body like you’ve been baptized. You think about it for hours. Days. Replay it. Rewatch it in your head until it’s burned behind your eyes.

And then, you leave something else. Something too personal. Too real. Something that proves how deeply you know him—how intimately.

You thought it was your best idea yet.

You’d waited for the perfect moment—when the mansion was dead quiet, everyone gone or distracted. You crept into his room like a ghost that belonged there. Your hands didn’t even shake. You knew exactly where he kept it—tucked inside the false bottom of a drawer, in an envelope that had been folded so many times it was nearly soft.

A photograph.

Old, bent at the corners. Him—before everything. Sitting at some cracked skatepark bench, legs sprawled, hoodie too big, grin just barely visible. His cheek barely chewed through at that point. No blood. No weight under his eyes, not as heavy as it was now anyway. It was the kind of photo you’d press to your lips at night if it were yours. The kind of photo you’d keep safe under your pillow, like a secret that made your chest hurt to remember.

But it wasn’t yours.

It was his.

And you ruined it.

You glued your own picture—cut out carefully, a selfie you once thought he might like—on top of it. Not fully covering him, of course. Just enough that you were beside him now, nestled into the same moment. Like you belonged there.

On the back, you wrote:

“we’ve always been meant to be together. you just didn’t know it yet.”

You sprayed it with your perfume. Folded it tight. Left it sitting on the windowsill next to his cigarettes like it was just another gift.

You waited.

You waited and waited.

And when it happened—when he finally came back and found it—you felt it like a siren going off in your blood.

The sound was unreal.

Glass breaking. Something crashing. Then heavy, pounding footsteps in the hall. You barely had time to turn before he was there, eyes wild, shoulders trembling with every breath.

“Toby—” you started, smiling, voice soft like you could soothe him.

But his scream cut through you.

“W-What the FUCK is wrong with y-you?!”

Your smile faltered.

He was in front of you in two strides, fists clenched like he didn’t know what else to do with them. His whole body was twitching, spasming, like his rage was trying to crawl out of his skin.

“Th-this is— Y-you're fucking s-sick—fuckin’ moron! You t-took that—you TOOK that photo, th-that wasn’t yours—fuck!”

“I—I thought it would be sweet—”

“Sweet?!” he barked, spit flying. His laugh was humorless. Ferocious. Neck jerking to the side so hard it cracked.

“You don’t k-know me, you d-don’t know shit!” His eyes were glassy, his voice rising with every word. “Y-You sneak into my r-room, you—you f-follow me, l-leave this perfumed trash—wh-what the fuck is wrong with you, huh?!”

Your mouth moved but nothing came out.

“You t-took the one fucking thing I had l-left,” he seethed, voice breaking. “Y-You ruined it. Just like everything e-else. You j-j-just keep fucking—FUCKING TAKING—”

He shoved the photo against your chest so hard it crumpled. “I h-hate you. I h-hate that you m-made me start looking forward to this shit, th-thinking m-maybe it’d stop, maybe you’d fuck off—but no. No, you j-just keep digging. You just keep—fucking—taking.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “But I love you—”

“LOVE?!”

His voice cracked—high, raw. Something inside him split. You saw it happen in real time—the exact second the anger flipped into something crueler, uglier, more dangerous.

He stepped closer.

You stepped back, but he caught you by the hair—fingers twisted so tight at your scalp that your knees almost gave out. Your breath hitched in a strangled gasp, heart slamming.

“Y-You want me th-that—THAT f-fucking badly??” he spat, face inches from yours, eyes bloodshot and manic.

His other hand moved fast—unbuckling his belt with shaky, furious fingers, yanking the waistband down enough to bare himself to the cold air between you.

“H-Have it, b-bitch.” His voice was venom. “F-Fucking suck it.”

He shoved you down hard, your knees hitting the floor, the pain shooting up your legs like an electric jolt.

You looked up at him, dizzy from the violence of it. From the rage. From the realization that this was finally real.

This was love.

It was twisted. Broken. Boiling. But it was his. It was his.

Your scalp screamed under his grip, but your mouth dropped open the second his hand clamped around your jaw. There wasn’t time to breathe, wasn’t time to beg—not that you would’ve dared. Not when he was finally touching you like this. Not when he was finally looking at you like this.

Half-hard, his cock slapped against your lips as he forced his way past them, teeth scraping his skin before your jaw stretched wide. His hips stuttered forward, shallow at first, but fast—angry—as if your mouth had insulted him.

“Th-this wh-what you wanted? Huh?” he snarled through his teeth, twitch rolling through his shoulders, “F-Fucking whore—s-so goddamn desperate you had to steal from me—h-had to crawl into my skin like a fucking parasite—”

He thrust deeper, and you gagged around him, the back of your throat constricting tight as spit poured down your chin. He didn’t let up. Didn’t slow. His hand stayed in your hair, twisting harder until your eyes watered.

“You l-like this?” he hissed, hips snapping forward. “Y-You like me like this?”

You couldn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Not when your lips were suctioned tight around the base of his cock, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth, throat spasming around him as he fucked deeper, rougher, like he could pound the sickness out of you through sheer force.

He groaned—sharp, guttural—and yanked you off by the hair so hard your neck cracked, a thick rope of spit trailing from your lips to the head of his cock.

You gasped, lungs burning, tongue out as you panted like a dog at his feet. Your nails dug so deeply into his hip bones that his skin scraped off under them like dirt, not that he could feel it anyway.

“F-Fuckin’ pathetic,” he spat, literally—right in your face, his saliva mixing with yours, dripping down to your chest. “L-Look at yourself, b-bitch. You're f-fucking d-disgusting."

Your eyes—glossy, blown wide—stared up at him like he was God.

He hated it. He fucking hated how it made his dick throb.

“You’re sick,” he muttered. “Y-You need help.”

You only opened your mouth wider.

“F-Fucking freak—”

He shoved himself back in without warning. You choked, sputtered, spit flying as he drove himself deep into your throat again. His thighs trembled against your face. His rhythm faltered, just for a second, hips jerking like his body betrayed him.

You felt it—felt the way his cock twitched, the way his knees buckled when your throat tightened just right.

And you latched on harder.

Your lips sealed, suctioned, like you could pull his soul out through his cock. You moaned around him with every loud, obnoxious slurp, vibrations rippling up his spine. He growled, a raw, broken animal sound that rumbled from his chest.

“St-Stop—s-stop enjoying this, fuck,” he snapped, voice cracking, panicked almost.

But it only made you suck harder.

It only made you hungrier.

And that only made him meaner.

He slammed his cock into your throat again, until your nose was crushed into his pelvis and his balls hit your chin. Until you could barely breathe.

“Y-You’re n-not getting sh-shit else from me,” he hissed. “Y-You’re not special. You’re n-not loved. You’re just a hole.”

You whimpered around him, ashamed and deliriously turned on. Your cheeks were burning, soaked in spit and tears and humiliation. But your hands stayed behind your back, obedient, like you were grateful just to be on your knees for him.

He twitched again.

God, you tasted him.

Because no matter how hard he hated you, his body wanted you. And that was enough.

You could feel his cock throb in your mouth—so fucking close. So fucking perfect. You were dizzy with it, soaked in spit, eyes rolling, heart pounding, waiting, so fucking eager to swallow every drop of his cum—

—and then he ripped himself out of you.

You gasped, air slicing through your raw throat, but he didn’t even give you a second. His hand cracked across your face with a wet smack, jerking your head sideways, and the sting lit your skin up like fire.

“F-Fuckin’ look at you,” Toby growled, yanking your head back again, spit glistening on your chin, his cock still wet and twitching just inches from your face. “Y-You’re disgusting. A d-deranged, fucked-up psycho s-stalker bitch. You think this means anything? You think this—this—” he slapped your other cheek, open-palmed, sharp enough to make spit fly from your mouth, “is love?”

You blinked up at him, smears of red in the shape of his hands on your cheeks, a hot trail of spit connecting your lip to your chin, breath hiccuping like a kicked dog. And still—you smiled.

He fucking despised the face that looked back at him, your eyes blown out, glassy and still obsessed. He spat at you again, hard, mean, disgusted, right between them.

“You think this is love? You th-think you know me? You d-don’t know SHIT. You'll NEVER b-be n-nothin' more than a f-fuckin' cumrag. NEVER. Y-You deserve to be p-put down like a f-fucking rabid animal.”

You didn’t even flinch. You could barely even hear the filth thrown your way.

You just licked your lips—slowly. Deliberately. Dry tongue swiping up the spit, the precum, everything he'd left behind like it was holy. Like it was proof he touched you.

Toby froze, tics seizing out of pure shock, chest heaving, eyes wide with something like hate and horror and disbelief all at once.

You were wrecked—utterly—mascara melting in grey streaks down your clammy cheeks, nose red and swollen, hair stuck to your wet mouth, knees bleeding underneath you. And you still looked at him like he hung the fucking stars.

Something inside him snapped all over again.

He lunged—grabbed your shoulder and threw you down, face-first into the floor. You yelped, arms scrambling to catch yourself, the skin on your knees scraped off by the floorboards, but he didn’t wait. Didn’t ask.

“Y-You want to be used so bad?” he growled, yanking your pants down and baring you to the air, “F-Fine. I’ll ruin you, you f-fucking c-cunt."

His belt hit the floor. He spat again, right between your shoulder blades, thick and hateful.

“B-Bet this is what y-you wanted all along. T-T-Take it, freak.”

He knelt behind you, one hand braced on your lower back, the other lining himself up, skipping your pussy without as much as grazing it with the tip—and shoved inside past the tight muscle rim of your ass, merciless.

Your eyes flew wide as white-hot pain shot up your spine. Your scream cracked in your throat as his cock split you in two, raw and soaked in spit but no less brutal.

You arched into it.

Toby growled something feral and shoved deeper. You were clenching so tight, your muscles spasming, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t care.

“Y-You feel that?” he panted, slamming into you, each thrust brutal, punishing. “Th-this isn’t yours. Y-You don’t own me. T-this dick will never b-be fucking yours."

Your face was pressed into the floor, spit pooled beneath your cheek, mouth open in a dazed, wet moan as he fucked you like garbage—like nothing, cock ramming in your ass with single-minded violence. Your body jolted with every slam of his hips, ass meat rippling like angry tidal waves, every punishing thrust shoving his cock deeper, harder, until it felt like your brain would melt out of your ears. You stayed silent.

Silent and fucking grateful.

He slapped your ass hard enough to leave a mark.

“Stupid f-fucking bimbo—l-living in some wet d-dream where you matter. You don’t. Y-You’re just a—f-fuckin’ hole.”

Another slap—across your back this time.

You whimpered, and your fingers dug into the floorboards like you could crawl inside them, but you didn’t stop him. You wouldn’t. This was your heaven.

“C-Crying now?” he sneered, voice cracking. “Wh-What happened to the whore who l-liked sucking dick so much, huh? G-Got what you wanted, and now you c-can’t even take it?”

He spit again—right on the back of your head.

And you came, so hard that you could see stars bursting behind your eyes.

No warning. No build. Just humiliation, pain, and his voice melting your brain into static.

Toby didn’t even notice. Too lost in his rage, too gone to feel anything but fire and shame and loathing at how good you felt around him.

He didn’t slow.

Didn’t give a single fuck about the sobs clawing out of your throat, the raw, ugly sounds echoing in the room like music to his rage.

“F-Fuckin’ disgusting whore,” he snarled, his breath ragged, lip curling like the sight of you made him sick. “B-Betting you like this shit. L-Like being split open like a f-fuckin’ animal.”

You nodded.

God help you—you nodded.

He barked a laugh. It wasn’t humor. It was disbelief. Pure, furious, exhausted disbelief.

He yanked you back by the hair again, your bloody knees slipping out from under you as he pulled you upright against him. Your arms hung limp, your ass and thighs flushed red from the impact, and his cock popped free from your ass with a slick, humiliating noise.

You didn’t even have time to catch your breath before he shoved you down again, spine hitting the floor with a painful thud.

"F-Fuckin' look at me."

You blinked up through tears, your lashes clumped, black streaks down your cheeks like a doll left out in the rain.

"You l-like this? Th-That I’m using you like a fleshlight? You g-get off on being a d-dumpster, huh?"

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but he slapped your face again, then straddled your chest, cock dripping with spit and slick, flushed and angry red.

"Open."

Your jaw trembled, but you obeyed, and he shoved it in.

Ass straight to mouth. Thick and filthy. The taste was obscene.

You gagged instantly, throat constricting around him—but he held your head in place with both hands now, his fingers bruising your cheeks, palms cradling you like a goddamn trophy as he fucked your throat, teeth gritted, low snarls bubbling out of his chest.

"F-Fuck you— I'll f-fucking kill you, I'll— I fuck-fucking HATE you—"

Your eyes rolled. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t feel anything but him.

And then—he tensed. Not a warning. Not a pause.

Just a growl, a violent yank of your hair, and a final, punishing thrust so deep it made your vision go white.

He ripped out of your throat with a wet pop—and came.

Everywhere.

Hot spurts splashed across your cheek, your mouth, your eyelids, your lashes. He pumped another streak into your hair, and one more shot down over your chin, his spit joining the mess as he leaned in close to snarl.

"Y-You can choke on that. It's all you're ever f-fuckin’ getting from m-me."

You didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

Just laid there. Face covered in cum, spit, tears. Mouth open, tongue out, lips twitching as you tried to taste every drop.

Toby stood there for a second, staring, just enough to squeeze the leftover drool and slick and cum from his softening cock, and flick it at your face.

And you smiled. Tired. Broken. Elated.

His stomach turned.

“You’re fucked in the h-head,” he said, barely a whisper now. “S-So fucked it’s pathetic.”

He turned without another word, without another glance. He buckled his belt with trembling hands, eyes locked anywhere but your wrecked face, and walked out, door slamming behind him so violently that the doorknob rattled and fell to the floor with a loud clang.

Toby left you there—raw, soaked, ruined, smiling through the mess like you’d just lived a dream.

And maybe you had.

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luvendiary · 5 days ago

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tea, spice, and everything nice / f. g. weasley

fred weasley x reader

summary: having the weasley twins as neighbors was never a dull experience. having one of them hung up on you, was never a bad thing. warnings: not proofread. no use of y/n. 3k words. i had to pull up pantone's color catalogue for this one.

It had been a normal morning. You had gone about your day as you usually did. You had managed to stick to your routine and get to work on time despite your very strong ache to stay in bed.

Work had been… fine. Nothing terrible, nothing particularly good either. Just the usual: a steady stream of owls, parchment stacks, and a boss who loved the sound of their own voice. You had smiled where you needed to, nodded at the right times, made polite conversation in the break room. The kind of day that wasn’t awful but still drained something out of you, leaving you a little heavy in the shoulders by the end of it.

Now, finally, you were headed home.

The streets of Diagon Alley were starting to quiet down, the usual buzz from the daytime crowd giving way to the lower hum of late shoppers and early dinner-goers. You walked with purpose, your bag slung over your shoulder, the thought of your warm flat and a cup of tea pulling you forward.

Living above Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had its quirks — mainly, that it was never really quiet — but it also meant you didn’t have far to go. Just a few steps past the glittering window display and up the narrow, winding staircase on the side of the shop.

And, of course, it also meant you always ran into one of the twins.

As expected, the door to the shop creaked open just as you reached for the stairwell handle.

“Evening, love,” came the familiar voice — smooth, amused, and far too awake for this hour.

Fred stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smudge of something sparkly across his cheek. He looked you up and down like he was scanning for signs of sabotage. “Did you enjoy work today?”

You smiled cynically down at him and offered him an unnamused laugh. “If I’m pulled into another meeting that could have very well been a letter I will start a goat farm in the mountains.”

He grinned. “Tempting.”

“They’d definitely talk less,” you mumbled to yourself as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

Truth was, you liked your job. But as it so often goes, people made it difficult.

He chuckled, then reached out and gently tugged on your bag strap, easing it off your shoulder and slinging it over his instead. “You look wrecked. Let me carry that.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest. This was part of the routine too — Fred pretending he was helping while also slipping in some excuse to walk you up to your door. You didn’t mind.

“You should’ve seen this kid earlier,” Fred said, as you both started walking up the stairs. “Thought he was being clever, right? Waited until we were both distracted helping some poor bloke who’d sneezed himself invisible, then snuck over to the shelf and stuffed three Tongue Taffies in his mouth.”

You laughed. “Three?”

“He had the gall to look proud about it. Smug little grin and everything. Didn’t even chew them. Just stuffed ’em in whole.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, the tongue hit the floor before I could even laugh about it. Poor sod nearly knocked over the Patented Daydream Charms shelf when he tripped over it. George had to levitate his tongue just so he wouldn’t drag it all the way home.”

You laughed harder, pressing a hand to your chest. “Honestly, your shop is going to give some poor mother heart failure one day.”

“That’s the goal,” he said brightly.

You were halfway up when a warm, spicy scent hit you — sharp, slightly sweet, with an edge of something burning.

You sniffed, lifting your head. “Is that… cayenne? Please tell me that’s not coming from my flat.”

Fred tilted his head, sniffing too. “Ah, no. That’s ours. George got a new idea for Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and now thinks he’s a potioneer. Nearly went bald about an hour ago.”

“Of course he did,” you muttered fondly.

Fred chuckled. “Come in for a bit? I’ll put the kettle on, you can debrief while George tries not to poison us all.”

You glanced at your own door, then back at him. The exhaustion hadn’t faded, but the idea of sitting down somewhere not silent and sterile felt better than whatever plan you’d had involving leftover stew and collapsing on the couch. “Yeah,” you said. “Alright. Just for a bit.”

Fred smiled, bumping your shoulder lightly as he reached to open the door for you.

The moment you stepped inside, a wave of spice hit your senses like a hex. You coughed, eyes watering almost immediately.

Fred laughed, helping you out of your coat and hanging your bag near the entrance. “You get used to it after a bit. Or you just lose your sense of smell entirely. Bit of a gamble, really.”

You followed the haze deeper into the flat, Fred just behind you. “George?” he called out. No reply.

You cleared your throat. “George?” you repeated louder.

Still nothing.

The kitchen, unsurprisingly, was the source of the problem. The air was thick with reddish haze, like someone had used cayenne pepper as confetti. George stood at the counter, utterly engrossed, hunched over a clutter of parchment, potion books, and a steaming cauldron. Goggles covered his eyes as he ground a deep red powder into fine dust with focused intensity.

Fred leaned around you and called again, “Oi, Georgie. We’ve got company.”

Still nothing.

Before you could try a third time, the cauldron gave a disgruntled pop and released a puff of red smoke directly into George’s face. He yelped, coughing furiously, and waved his arms through the air like he was swatting at an invisible swarm of bees.

Fred coughed pointedly. “You alright there?”

George turned, wheezing, and finally spotted you. “Oh! You’re here!” He reached to tug the goggles off as he continued swatting the air. You took note of how the rest of his skin was now covered a shade of light red, except for the section covered by the goggles.

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh.

Fred didn’t bother. “You look demented mate,” he said with a soft laugh.

George gave him a pointed look. “I’m working.”

“Well, I for one, think you look adorable,” you said as you stepped further into the kitchen. “Is there a clear surface somewhere under here where we can have some tea?”

George grinned as he started closing his books and clearing the counter. “Hear that Freddie? She thinks I’m adorable.”

You joined him, sliding parchment and a charred spoon off the island and into a growing pile on the far end of the counter.

Fred set the kettle on the stove, glancing back with a smirk. “Yeah, well, she also thought a flobberworm was a baby dragon once, so I wouldn’t put too much stock in her judgment.”

“Okay, you need to let that go. That was one time.”

“You tried to feed it a chicken leg,” George chimed in as he set the cauldron down on the floor.

“I never should have told you that story,” you muttered, lips twitching. You stacked a few stray vials off to the side while George wiped down the counter with a flick of his wand.

Fred opened the cupboard above the sink and grabbed three mismatched mugs. You noted he took your favorite. You had claimed it a while ago, stating that you were stealing it because you liked it so much. Fred promised you that it would be your mug, reserved only for you when you came around. It wasn’t much, just a cup with a handle too big for its body, painted a splotchy blue with some even splotchier stars around it — the result of a pottery class forced by Molly onto all her children. Still, you loved it.

He handed it to you without a word.

“You know,” you said, inspecting the mug for the telltale chip on the rim, “I should be insulted that this was made by a ten-year-old and still somehow holds more charm than anything I own.”

“That ten-year-old was me, thank you very much,” Fred said, as he took the mug from your hands once again and set it on the counter with the other two. “A visionary.”

George snorted as he folded a powder-smeared tea towel in half and tossed it over the back of a chair. “You also made a bowl that collapsed under the weight of a single apple.”

“It was a concept piece,” Fred countered. “Minimalist, fleeting, and fragile. Like…uh, love…”

It came out more as a question, but you couldn’t blame him as he was very concentrated on pouring the hot water onto the mugs. George snorted.

You rolled your eyes, hopping onto the island. “More like structurally unsound. Like you.”

George let out a bark of laughter. “Merlin, she’s mean when she’s tired.”

“I’m not mean,” you said, yawning into your sleeve. “I’m just not deluded.”

“For once I’d like to hear you call me handsome and charming. But for now, unsound and deluded sounds nice enough,” Fred said as he handed you your tea.

You noticed he had prepared it just how you liked it.

You met his eyes briefly over the rim of the mug, letting the steam curl between you. “Charming and attentive. Maybe I’ll reconsider your structural integrity.”

The rest of the evening passed easily, the three of you tucked around the kitchen island like you had done a dozen times before.

Eventually, the warmth of the tea started giving way to the weight of the day. You stretched with a soft sigh and slid off the counter.

“I should head out,” you said after a while, already gathering the mugs and rolling up your sleeves.

George groaned and pushed himself off his stool. “Alright, but only if you do the dishes first.”

“I was going to, but know that you’ve told me I don’t want to anymore,” you said as you opened the tap water.

George grinned, bumping your shoulder as he passed. “She’s a keeper.”

“She’s not yours to keep,” Fred quipped, stepping in beside you at the sink, but you waved him off and nudged him back toward the island.

Fred didn’t argue, but he leaned against the counter just beside you, arms crossed, offering commentary the entire time.

You dried the last mug — your blue one — and set it back on the open shelf.

George, already halfway to the hall, waved lazily over his shoulder. “Night then. Don’t fall asleep in the hall.”

“Not a guarantee,” you called after him, a yawn muffling the words.

Fred held the door open as you stepped back into the corridor.

You turned to him. “Thanks. For the tea. And the company.”

He shrugged, like it was nothing. “Anytime.”

There was a pause. A silence that didn’t need filling but wasn’t empty either.

Then he nodded toward your door. “Get some rest, yeah? And if you dream of flobberworms, don’t feed them anything weird.”

You gave him a tired smile. “I’ll try my best.”

He lingered just a second longer — as if about to say something else — but only nodded his head and stepped back into the flat.

You turned the key in your door and slipped inside, the warmth of their kitchen still clinging to your sleeves.

Normal, you thought, flicking on the light.

Your version of it, anyway.

You woke up with a sneeze so violent, it startled your pillow straight off the bed.

The second one nearly sent your bedside lamp toppling.

By the third, you were upright, bleary-eyed, and already aware that something was very wrong — because your hair had just flared a neon green, reflected clearly in the mirror across the room.

And then it turned fuchsia. And then orange.

You groaned, muffled into your sleeve, eyes watering as another sneeze cracked through your chest.

“Bloody hell,” you rasped, stumbling toward your door, blanket still draped around your shoulders.

There was only one explanation. One infuriating, spice-coated, cayenne-smelling, potion-brewing explanation.

You pounded on the twins’ door with the side of your fist. “Fred! George!”

The hallway echoed with your sneezes. Your hair was flickering like a broken traffic light.

The door creaked open on the third knock, revealing a very sleepy, very shirtless Fred.

His hair was sticking up like it had been electrocuted, and he was squinting at you through one barely open eye. “What in Merlin’s—?”

You sneezed directly into your elbow. Your hair turned aquamarine.

Fred blinked. “Well, that’s new.”

“What did you do to me?!” you said miserably, gesturing to your technicolor head. “I can’t go in like this tomorrow!”

Fred scratched the back of his head, clearly still waking up, though his mouth twitched like he was trying very hard not to laugh. “George did say he was using mood powder as a base.”

You sneezed again. Bubblegum pink. You glared at him. “Mood powder?!”

He held up a hand, stepping aside to let you in. “Come in before you dye the entire corridor.”

You stormed past him, dragging your blanket like a cape, muttering something under your breath about bans and hexes and murder.

Fred followed after you, yawning into his shoulder. “On the bright side, that shade of blue is rather flattering…”

Another sneeze.

Purple.

You threw your hands up in defeat. “Tell George I’m putting this in my official neighbor complaint log.”

Fred raised a brow. “You have a neighbor complaint log?”

“I do now.”

He snorted, heading toward the kitchen. “Alright, alright. Let’s find something to counteract it before you hit plaid.”

From the bedroom, George’s sleepy voice echoed faintly, “Plaid’s still in the prototype stage!”

You groaned into your blanket.

Fred returned with a glass of water and what looked like a fizzing candy. “Here. Chew this. Don’t ask what’s in it.”

You stared at it suspiciously. “Will it stop the sneezing?”

He grinned. “Probably.”

“…If I wake up with scales tomorrow, I’m moving.”

Fred offered a lazy salute. “Dibs on your flat.”

You sneezed again.

Chartreuse.

You were still sneezing.

Not as violently as before, but each one seemed to make your limbs heavier, your brain foggier, and your hair increasingly chaotic. At one point, you were pretty sure it turned the exact same shade of purple and orange as the Weasley Wizard Wheezes logo, which made Fred laugh so hard he nearly dropped the antidote vial George had handed over with an apologetic shrug before promptly retreating back to bed.

Now, you were curled on the twins’ couch, still wrapped in your blanket, blinking slowly like a sleep-deprived owl. Your body was swaying from left to right, rocked by the sneezes combined with your body’s inability to keep straight.

Fred returned from the kitchen with a mug of water and knelt beside the sofa. “You alright there?”

“Mmhm,” you mumble.’ Another sneeze. Your hair flashed coral, then faded to a sleepy lilac.

Fred handed you the glass, steadying it in your hand when your grip faltered. “You’re fading.”

“I’m awake,” you said into the rim, though your eyes had dropped shut entirely.

He smiled, brushing a stray lock of brightly colored hair from your temple. “Alright, genius. I think you’re staying here tonight.”

You made a vague gesture, something between agreement and a high-five, but still you stood up. Stumbling as you did. “Mm’going to work,” you mumbled.

You didn’t make it far, as your leg knocked into a side table and your hands fumbled with the chain on the door.

Silently, Fred guided you back to his couch and made you sit down. “I’ll be back. Don’t move.”

You protested, but your body melted into the soft surface.

Fred chuckled and stood, grabbing a throw blanket from the armchair and tugging a second one from the hall cupboard. He returned a moment later and gently draped them both over you, then paused. You were nearly asleep, lips slightly parted, a stubborn lock of color-shifting hair stuck to your cheek.

He sighed, rubbed a hand over his face, and then — with a resigned shake of his head — dropped down beside you on the couch.

You stirred faintly when he shifted, blinking groggily. “Fred?”

“Yeah?”

“You smell like cinnamon.”

He huffed a laugh, arm sliding around your shoulders to steady you as you leaned fully into him.

“Also gunpowder…”

Fred glanced down to find you blinking slowly, already halfway into sleep, your hair dimming to a dusky rose that curled softly around your face. You looked peaceful. A little ridiculous, with the sneezing and the magic-dyed hair, but mostly peaceful. And warm. And close.

For a while, it was quiet. The flat was warm, still scented faintly of spice and burnt sugar, and the only sound was the soft ticking of the charmed clock in the corner and your sleepy breathing beside him.

Just as Fred was beginning to drift off, your voice mumbled, barely audible:

“…I like the lilac. S’nice.”

He smiled into your hair and absentmindedly brushed his thumb along your arm. “Yeah. I like it too.”

You didn’t answer. This time, you were out for good.

And Fred, with you tucked under his arm and your hair still faintly glowing against his side, figured he didn’t mind being woken up at all.

The next morning started with the sound of cabinets opening too loudly and the unmistakable clink of a teaspoon dropped into a mug.

Fred stirred but didn’t move. His arm was still tucked around you, your head resting in the crook of his shoulder. Your legs were tangled, your blanket half falling off the couch. His neck was a bit sore, and your hair had taken on a maroon hue, but he didn’t dare shift. Not yet.

Then came the pause. That stillness in the room that meant someone had walked in and was now seeing something.

Fred cracked one eye open.

George stood in the kitchen doorway, a spoon still in his hand, expression entirely unreadable. His goggles were pushed up on his forehead, and he had a tea towel slung over his shoulder like someone who’d intended to mind his business this morning and was now clearly regretting the attempt.

Fred blinked.

George blinked back.

Fred raised a brow, voice a hoarse whisper. “Don’t.”

George tilted his head, surveying the blanket cocoon you were half-buried in, still out cold.

Then his face split into the slowest, most irritatingly smug grin Fred had ever seen.

“You two look cozy,” George said in a tone that carried the weight of every teasing comment he was clearly holding back.

Fred exhaled through his nose. “She inhaled your stupid potion dust and turned into a human kaleidoscope.”

George looked entirely unbothered. “And now she’s spooning you on our couch. Fascinating how the universe works.”

Fred made a noise of protest, but George was already walking away, whistling some off-key tune as he disappeared down the hallway.

A beat passed.

Then Fred heard George’s voice faintly call back, “Mum’s going to love this.”

Fred groaned and let his head fall back against the couch. You, miraculously, kept sleeping.

Or maybe not. Because from the tangle of blankets, a very sleepy voice muttered, “Tell him if he says anything to Molly, I’ll dye all his pants fuchsia.”

Fred smiled, eyes closing again. “Deal.”

You sighed softly, snuggling up to the blanket, only to realize it wasn’t a blanket you were holding. But instead the very naked torso of Fred Weasley.

Your eyes shot open, and Fred could feel you tense up.

“Is there something wrong?”

“I, uh. I didn’t mean to — I must’ve just—” you stuttered. “You’re shirtless.”

You were practically draped across him, your face tucked just under his jaw, one leg tangled over his. His arm was still looped loosely around your back, holding you to him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His chest was bare, warm against your palm, the rise and fall of it steady with sleep.

“And you’re very warm.”

Fred looked down at the tangle you were both in, then back at you, his mouth twitching into a faint smirk.

“You drool in your sleep.”

Your jaw dropped. “I do not—!”

He raised both brows.

You narrowed your eyes and went to push yourself upright, but Fred just tightened his arm around you and flipped you over, so that you were trapped between him and the back of the sofa.

That made you huff a laugh. “I have work in like… an hour.”

“Mm. Sounds fake.”

You considered that. You were still sleepy, your head a little foggy, limbs heavy. And this was… surprisingly nice. Calming, even. Fred’s warmth. His stupid heartbeat under your ear. The faint smell of cinnamon and smoke. The way neither of you had to say anything at all, and it wasn’t awkward.

You sighed, melting back into him slightly. “I think I’m calling in sick.”

Fred rested his chin against your head. “Just sleep a bit longer. We can figure this out after tea.”

You chuckled, and tucked your head under him as you allowed his arm to rub your back lazily. Your fingers traced small patterns onto his chest, and you felt him let out a sound of approval.

You had the feeling there wouldn’t be much to figure out.

#x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred gideon weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley #george weasley #george fabian weasley #weasley wizard wheezes #golden trio era

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heartfullofleeches · 10 months ago

Note

i need more sucrose i beg

just a crumb, any fact or a random blurb i beggggggg

My original idea for Dentist Reader was that they were scared off of candy as a child 2005 Willy Wonka style, but someone left this comment.

So here's a drabble with both meshed into one.

Yan Candy Person Shop Owner + Dentist Reader

"You have one final chance to get out of my office before I have you dragged out in handcuffs."

If that damned sheriff would actually do his job for once- The worst part about moving to a smaller area was the local authority's instance on solving issues between yourselves. Your hands may have been filled with new appointments, you aren't blind. You've seen that lazy excuse for an officer waltz gleefully out of that accursed candy store, twiddling suckers between his lips.

Hard candy and bite sized balls of chocolate spill out onto the floor of your lobby as the confectioner urges the candy bowl from their hands into yours.

"Gumdrop...." That awful nickname... It's almost more annoying than their crocodile tears when you call out their behavior in public. "Just one little nibble, that's all I'm askin'. Let's start with something simple. Butterscotch? How about a peppermint? A gumdrop for my sweet, compassionate gumdrop?"

Your foot taps impatiently against the carpeted floor. Must you go through this same song and dance every day? Sucrose lets out a nervous chuckle, placing the bowl on your desk as they hop to their feet.

"If you won't have any for yourself, at the very least your patients might enjoy a sweet treat after everything you put them through. Dental work can be scary business- A smile every now and then would help too."

"Alright. Fine- I've got too much paperwork to deal with to argue with. If you had any sense, you'd be behind the counter- At. Your. Shop."

"Feisty~" Sucrose purrs, tapping your nose with a giggle. "That's what I love about you. I'll drop by during your lunch break to check on you. Don't miss me too much, Gumdrop!"

Grabbing the tails of their apron, Sucrose bows before turning on their heals - practically skipping their way out of your office. With them out of your hair, your focus redirects to the bowl of candy sitting on your desk. Lollipops and hard candies were one thing, but some of the mix would only cause more harm than good. Caramels, jelly beans, taffy.

Your fingernails clench around the edge of the table- the roar of an engine scaring you off before you dare to go further. Fearing being caught, you brisky march over to the windows; shutting the blinds without a second thought. Returning to the desk, you make certain your chair faces the window as you take your seat - snatching the first brightly colored wrapper that catches your eye.

You make quick work of pealing the candy free, folding the wrapper into a neat folder and tucking it into your pocket. You've never seen taffy shaped quite like what they've done before- Maybe someday you'd swallow your pride and ask Sucrose how they they sliced their candy into perfect miniature hearts. Easing back in your chair, you pop the candy into your mouth - chewing as all your fears from the past melt on your tongue along with the rich, cherry flavor.

"Knock, Knooooock~ Hey, Gumdrop. I think I forgot my....."

Hand deep in the candy bowl, the taffy hits your stomach like a brick as you swallow - the confectioner's eyes growing wider by the second.

"G.....Gumdrop?!? You're eating me sweets?! Out of your own free will? Eeeek! I knew you'd come around someday! I'm so happy! Let me lick the sweetness from your lips, my angel!"

You keep from your chair as Sucrose pounces- keeping them at distance with your foot as they make wild grabs for your face with their hands.

"Don't deny our love any longer, my sweet! You love my candy yet you claim to despise it so you must feel the same way about me- You're too cruel! Kiss me, you beautiful heart-breaker!"

#Sucrose my oc #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere drabble #yandere candy #yandere x darling

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

Text

"so you're telling me that you helped them find all the eggs on the bus?" steve asked, arms folded across his chest.

"yes! they couldn't even reach a few of them. you hid them too high," eddie unwrapped another chocolate egg and shoved it in his mouth.

"yeah, the goal was to keep some hidden so we wouldn't have them bouncing off the walls while we're stuck on here for another six hours."

eddie stopped chewing his candy, looking over at their two daughters who were currently arguing over who got to keep the $1 bill and who got to keep the four quarters from one of the eggs.

"i thought the goal was to find them all?"

"yeah, eventually. all the obvious ones were for today and then tomorrow one of us would 'find' the last handful of them and give out the candy over the course of the day." steve snapped his fingers at the girls and gave them his 'you better chill out' look. "now they're all in a mood and probably want to run around, but can't."

"oh."

"yeah, oh." steve sighed. he gestured to their son, who was too young to care about money, but definitely not too young to care about candy, shoving a handful of jelly beans in his mouth. "how do you plan on entertaining him?"

"he can play my guitar or something."

"and what do you suggest we do with the girls?"

"pawn them off on jeff and his wife on the next stop? they need practice anyways."

steve snorted. it wasn't a bad idea necessarily. but there was no way they'd be on their best behavior and steve wouldn't put anyone else through that.

"how about we stop for some food to help soak up some of that sugar?" steve suggested, knowing they still had about two hours before they were scheduled for a stop. bribing the driver would be pretty easy, especially if they let him pick where they went. "one of us can hide the rest of the candy while they're off the bus."

"fine, but they'll be mad when they get back."

"and they can stay mad," steve laughed. "but they can stay mad at you for it. i was the bad guy yesterday when i said no to ice cream. it's your turn."

eddie's jaw dropped. "but i'm never the bad guy!"

"yes, my point exactly." steve turned to grab bottles of water for the kids. maybe flushing it all out of their system would help. "i'm taking the title of cool dad for the day."

"robin would be so disappointed in you," eddie grumbled.

"robin's been trying to get me to loosen up for years. she'll be proud of me."

eddie wrapped his arms around steve, ignoring the sudden screech from their oldest daughter for another moment.

"i'm proud of you too. i can be the bad guy more often if you want."

"nah. i kinda like what we have." steve leaned in to kiss him quickly. "but i'm gonna soak it in today. might get a little worked up seeing you be the guy doling out discipline today, though."

"you're ridiculous. i discipline you plenty."

"dad! she took both of the dollars!"

"i found both of them!"

"actually, i found both of them," eddie said as he turned to the girls. "and if there's arguing, i get to keep them both."

the girls looked back at him with wide eyes, chocolate around their mouths, and sticky fingers from whatever taffy they'd gotten into first.

"but you already have all the money! you're an adult!"

steve covered his mouth to hide his laughter, turning to their son, who was a little too quiet for the amount of peeps he'd eaten an hour ago.

he wasn't at the table anymore.

"alright, maybe we'll both have to be the bad guys today," steve sighed. "luke! where'd you go?"

"how does he disappear on a moving bus?" eddie asked as he made his way to the couch to figure out the money situation with the girls.

it was their first, and probably last, easter on the tour bus. they normally spent all holidays at home.

but as steve tugged luke's legs from under steve and eddie's bed, giggling along with his three year old son, he couldn't help smiling at the chaos.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #headcanon #happy easter #we're just in it for the chocolate in this house #and so are the munsons #quite literally wrote this between class assignments so #no i didn't bother with proper grammar and punctuation

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fatkish · 1 year ago

Note

Hiii Can you do a fat gum x child daughter reader fluff headcanon I never actually see any x child reader with him 💀

Fatgum x Child Daughter Reader

Oh man is he a great dad

Your quirk is kinda similar to his as you’re able to store energy but not as fat. Your body stores energy as densely packed muscles. You’re not extremely buff, your muscles are just denser than a normal human’s

This gives you incredible strength, speed and stamina, at the cost that you can end up looking similar to small might.

Your dad always has you carrying plenty of snacks in your bag and sends you to school with the cutest bentos.

You both have plenty of daddy and daughter restaurant dates

You don’t need a comfy chair when your dad’s lap is so comfy

He’s your biggest fan and cheerleader and is constantly bragging about how amazing and adorable his daughter is

Has like a hundred photos of you and him in his office

He carries candy and snack like Hi-Chew, bubblegum, caramels, taffy, Pockey, etc. for you and fills your backpack with them

But it’s not all junk food with him

He makes sure that every meal is balanced and healthy as well as delicious and makes sure to teach you how to take care of yourself

He brags to his colleagues about your academic achievements even if it’s small

He teaches you self defense and even has some other heroes like Gunhead teach you how to protect yourself in the event that you’re in danger

Overall, he’s the sweetest, until you make papa bear mad

Oh, bullies don’t pick on you

They learned that the hard way when he showed up at your school and he gave the boys responsible a through talking to

(Sorry it’s kinda short @missmommymilker, I’ll add more as it comes to mind)

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #fatgum x reader #fatgum x child reader #taishiro toyomitsu x reader #taishiro toyomitsu #fatgum #x child reader

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fraudulent-cheese · 3 months ago

Text

Jumble of Total Drama contestants with the Papa's Freezeria Deluxe orders im assigning them, Part 2

Beth: Wanted both a drink that shared elements with Lindsay's, while being a smaller, more yellow drink, as well as referencing her growing up on a farm via the worms + peep + animal cracker chunks.

Has Beth canonically ever had mango before? Because she'd like mango.

Cameron: Pictured here wouldn't be his first sundae order as it would probably be either a very wild combination of flavors or the most boring ice cream to ever exist. Instead i think this is the order he'd settle on!

Some harder candy chunks and taffy are included because he'd like chewing on them, and they both come from the Big Top Carnival holiday, which could very much have been his first carnival.

Ella: Pink. loads of pink. Neapolitan also seems like a flavor she'd enjoy, and the toppings are all inspired by her love of fairy tales <3 i can't decide weither she'd eat the meeps or just keep them. or give them to someone else...

Eva: Just the Buttery Birchberry Special. Like this is so her.

Gwen: Very purple sundae. Mostly berry flavored, but not the cherry/straw/rasp berries as i doubt she'd particularly care for them. I also included a couple halloween options because she's goth and it fit her.

Izzy: Inspired by Calypso Cooler. Citri-Shock syrup and new years toppings were REQUIRED for Izzy, they're honestly some of the first things i thought to include for her.

Sidenote, depending on how the Maui Meringue tastes i'd probably eat this

Kitty: Variant on the Truffle Bomb. God i wanted to include the new years whipped cream so badly, but the end result just didn't look as good as just a large cup Truffle Bomb! I mostly just added pretzels.

Lauren, aka Scary Girl: Inspired by Candy Concrete. If you can't tell i LOVE contrast. She'd love killing and eating the onion gummy. I can't see her liking anything akin to coffee or licorice, only extremely sour gummies. Or those acid Haribo candies.

Leonard: MAGIC POTION LOOKING ASS SUNDAE!!! The Citri-Shock syrup and Confetti Pie Tarts were a must, and so were the Lucky Sevens. Out of all the sundaes i've made for this little series, this one by far is the one most running off of vibes.

I do think Leonard would drink weird sodas if they looked like magic potions enough. Like you know those drinks with the edible glitter? Yeah he gets a kick out of those

Mike: Wanted something blue, but also a little out there, so the blue moon syrup was perfect. Did you know Portallini Feast is just italian: the holiday? kind of annoyed only two of the holiday ingredients really fit him. It could've been so funny.

Owen: Inspired by the Orange Roll Delight. Im lucky Maple Mornings is one of the holidays included in this game, because it gave me all i needed to canadian this sundae up >:p

I picked the smores chunks for the added texture that marshmallows on their own just wouldn't have.

Shawn: Inspired by Cookie Dough Delight. He'd like butterscotch and peanut butter. He'd like orange.

Sierra: CANDY AND RAINBOWS AND FUN!!! i almost gave her the rainbow syrup, but i found the cotton candy one simply looked better (and hell i think she'd like it more). The multiple drizzles are completely necessary or else she's simply not interested.

Sugar: This is most likely going to be the single ice cream were i'll be using anything from the 4th of july stand-in holiday, because she's very much a southern usamerican girlie. It's sweet and sugary, but very in-your-face about it, much like how Sugar is.

Zoey: This is the reason i couldn't give Mike more of the Portalini Fest toppings. the Spumoni syrup just fit Zoey's color scheme and tastes (it's usually chocolate-pistachio-cherry flavored) way more than Mike, same with the toppings. Very red and has leaves, works well for her!

Link to part 1!

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ominous-faechild · 4 months ago

Text

FAERIE'S DAWN (2-1)

CHAPTER 2: KILREY (part 1)

CHARACTERS:

⚜ Nova “Me” Fae (pov) ⚜ Scamall “Cloud” Fae ⚜ Spéir “Sky” Fae

SETTING:

[overgrown, mossy swamp plane] [within the dominion of Kilrey] [in a tavern inside of Kilrey] [night; magic storm-blizzard]

approx. 1 BA (talamhdé timeline)

story intro table of contents chapter one < last chapter next chapter >

Nova: [tense, but continues chewing the taffy-like ambrosia as she focuses her essence to watch Sky and Cloud even with her back to them]

Siblings: [looking at each other, faces twisted and fae-ears lowered stressfully—]

Cloud: [guilty, but…]

Sky: [furious]

Sky: (hisses under his breath) "Cloud! This is exactly why I—"

Cloud: [letting out a slow breath, shakes her head and gently pushes him to the side with just a wave of her essence and air. Moves to stop beside Nova and try to meet their eyes]

Nova: [hesitantly obliges her, chomping off a piece of their third ambrosia square]

Cloud: (voice gentle, but serious) "you have a plan? Do you need more ambrosia?"

Nova:

Sky:

Nova: [shocked she'd offer to help when doing so got her into this mess to begin with, but…]

Nova: [ears low, forces themself to just look away, nod curtly, and swallow their bite. Then, with their face turned away, immediately rips off another chunk of ambrosia]

Cloud: [as Nova works on chewing, smoothly sits down next to them and reaches with her essence to copy Nova's earlier theft—]

Sky: [grabs her shoulder, hissing) "Cloud, what are you doing!? You're going to—"

Cloud: [turning a sharp glare onto him in return, evenly) "they escaped from another archfaerie. They know what they're doing, too. We should help them."

Sky: [stunned silent—]

Nova: 'too'...

Nova: [also stunned, but struggling not to be hopeful. Instead, forces herself to focus on her still-formulating escape plan. At the same time, starts on her fourth and last piece of ambrosia]

Ambrosia: [as a treat made of pure magic—and most often mixed in with sweets for additional taste—contained lots of energy for needy fae]

Ambrosia: [is most often used as compact, easy-to-serve rations from archfae to their thralls, meant to give them the essence they need to survive… while any and all other food mostly just tasted good and didn't do much for them. Not unless it matched their domain.]

Faeries: [each had control over a certain 'domain', depending on what they emerged from]

Cloud: [was clearly air-aligned, but, true to her name, seemed to have a domain specifically centered on clouds]

Tavernkeeper: [would seem earth-aligned at first glance, thanks to their earthen skin and the trail of dirt they left behind as they moved. But… their exact domain was harder to tell, considering the plants they'd had for hair. It could've meant they were life-aligned, or nature-aligned—]

Nova: [except, didn't just have to judge off of faeries' appearances]

Nova: [had a special talent in being able to 'feel out' for others' alignments, just by sensing their essence… or magical power]

Nova: [and, similarly, was much more adept at sensing and distinguishing between essence in general…]

Nova: [which was exactly why she could tell that the tavernkeeper, the earthen faerie, finally reached Kilrey.]

Nova: [quickly hops out of her chair, wiping the back of her hand against her mouth and looking at the siblings]

Sky: [has his jaw clenched and arms crossed tight as he's turned away from them, glaring at the other inhabitants of the tavern… to help discourage them from staring, and catching Cloud's theft]

Cloud: [of course, still stealing ambrosia squares, slipping them between the loose folds of her airy clothes as soon as she's grabbed them]

Both: [as Nova hopped out of the chair, stop what they're doing to look at Nova with tense expressions and lowered ears]

Nova: [meets Sky's eyes, then Cloud's, and quickly turns to march toward the door]

Nova: (voice commanding, sounding far more confident than she felt) "we head out now. I can collect more essence on the way. Hurry!"

Air Siblings: [meet eyes once again behind her back]

Cloud: [immediately follows close behind Nova!]

Sky: [half-groans, half-growls, but quickly trails after]

Sky: [… though his eyes dart from faerie to faerie as he wonders why nobody's reacting to their departure]

Nova: [almost as though she's reading his mind but more reading between the lines, and figuring it's better to say anyway) "I blocked them from seeing us. Come on!"

Sky: [bites his tongue, unsure of a lot of things… but also not sure if it was a good time to ask questions]

Nova: [pushes the door open and speedwalks outside, ignoring the frostbite-cold of the now-winter that hits her]

Seasons, time, and weather: [could change constantly, depending on where they were in the Faewildes and the strength of the raw, unclaimed magic in the area…]

Raw Faewilde magic: [was incredibly dangerous even to faeries, able to take over their minds, make them lose their sense of selves, and turn them into what the humans called demons]

Demons: [creatures with seemingly no sapience, wanting nothing more than violence… and Nova couldn't blame them]

Nova: [wishes she had the strength—the bravery—to fight back against archfae she wasn't cornered by]

Nova: [wishes she could pay them back for their crimes.]

Nova: [fae-ears low and eyes scanning the streets around them, paces forward to lead the group through the quickest way out of town]

Sky: [from behind, voice tense) "what's your plan, fae. Who are you?"

Nova: [tenses, but… keeps pacing, eyeing the ever-fluctuating buildings once of wood, then of stone, then of ice… as everything rapidly changes from the cloud of raw magic unfurling throughout the town]

Nova: (tension leaking into their voice) "we leave Kil—the Archfae's dominion, so he's weaker. From there, he either gives up, or—"

Sky: (voice sharp) "he'll catch up before we can!"

Nova: [twists her form, turning her torso so—while her legs continue forward on her decided path—she's able to face Sky while walking]

Siblings: [faces visibly twist in disgust at her grotesque display—]

Nova: (harshly) "we have a head start and this—" [points up, then twists his finger in a circular gesture, alluding to the magic storm] "—is going to keep him from teleporting to us."

Sky:

Sky: [visibly stunned… though also looks paler]

Sky: [actually, has changed a lot in appearance. His night-sky skin has quickly turned pale white, matching his hair and the snow around them]

Sky: [now, almost completely blends with the environment as he scans the area, the tips of his fae-ears dropping lower and lower]

Nova: (to himself) ah… that's why he feels a bit different from 'sky'.

Sky: [returning his eyes to Nova, hesitantly) "is… that you?"

Nova:

Nova: [fighting a wave of panic, barks out a laugh and turns his torso back into place to increase his pace. Still, his anxiety is betrayed by his angled ears, poorly-faked laugh, and the breathlessnes of his otherwise-incredulous voice) "no??? You think I'd be like this if I had that kinda power? I just sensed it coming, and we're taking advantage of it. Now hurry up, Kil—he, the Archfae, just left!"

Cloud: [from behind her; voice gentle, but subtly tense) "so… what happens when he catches up to us?"

Nova: [drops his eyes to the ground, falling silent as a cold hand of dread wraps itself tight around his heart]

Nova: (voice thick) "as long as we're outside of his dominion, I can take care of him by myself."

YOU CAN WHAT BY YOURSELF, NOVA!?!?!

Aaaaaanyhow, how truthful do you think all of this is? What's with all of their fear of archfaeries? And how in the world would Nova "take care of" one by themself???

story intro table of contents chapter one < last chapter next chapter >

Faerie's Dawn taglist:

@honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd

@seastarblue @rae-butter @teamarine777 @caffeinated-starsailor @oliolioxenfreewrites

@corinneglass @thebookishkiwi @storyteller-kara @themongosianhorse @theburningeyeofdawn

@notyourlocalworm @write-with-will @mildlybizarrecorvid @forgottenvalor @huewrite

@vesanal @differentnighttale @plip-plap-plop @olliedoesthings @pupculture

@princessuncertain @mythicalmagical-monkeyman @i-do-anything-but-write @a-zendrial

@real-fragments @lunauphternal @sullymarlowe @aalinaaaaaa (ask and ye shall be added)

dividers by @thyming and @saradika

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rottenpumpkin13 · 1 year ago

Note

I just had the thought that Sephiroth likes to bite and gnaw on things like pens, pencils, and markers when he is bored or doing paperwork.

This leads to everyone hiding pens, pencils, and markers where Sephiroth can't find them, such as in the vents or other, similar odd places.

In Turn, Sephiroth seeks out and finds the writing utensils.

And round and round the cycle goes, like a never ending game of treasure hunt.

Fluff be upon ye .・゜-: ✧ :-

• Not even Sephiroth knows why he does it⏤he's oblivious to the possibility that it could be an anxiety response, or an involuntary, self-soothing gesture. All he knows is that every pen he owns is indented with teeth marks, and each pencil in his desk is chewed beyond saving, and even other supplies like rulers and highlighters are spoiled by tiny teeth marks.

• It's an inconvenient habit, especially when someone asks to borrow a pen, but Sephiroth doesn't concern himself over it much. So what if Genesis complains that the nice fountain pen he lent Sephiroth now has a dent the size of a canine tooth near the top? Sephiroth can simply buy him a new one. So what if Angeal scolds him for biting the eraser top off the pencil he gave him? It still writes, it's perfectly usable.

• Genesis and Angeal, in turn, have learned that there is no place for them to hide their office supplies where Sephiroth won't find them. Angeal can't stand lying to him whenever he asks to borrow a pen, and Genesis knows that Sephiroth will go out and besmirch someone else's good pens anyway, so what's the point?

• They decide its time to do something the day Sephiroth's naked hands reveal that he's been using his fingers as substitute whenever writing utensils aren't available. The sight of faint bite marks, purple splotches and red knuckles break their heart.

• Angeal thinks it's covert anxiety, Genesis is sure that he's trying to soothe himself when his mind wanders, either men know that Sephiroth needs something to distract his mouth while he's working. Angeal reprimand's Genesis's suggestion to gift Sephiroth teething toys, but he's sold on the idea of candy.

• They look duly out-of-place buying out the local convenience store's entire stock of chewing gum, taffy and hard candy. They look even more odd fussing and arguing over which flavors Sephiroth will like best.

• They stock up Sephiroth's office when he's away on an assignment, filling his drawer with a neat row of gum packs, placing lollipops in his pen-holder, and littering any open space with hard candy. They make sure to make it look as if Sephiroth himself had bought the sweets, haphazardly thrown them wherever, and forgotten about it.

• The end result is positive. They're pleased to see Sephiroth with a lollipop in his mouth whenever they swing by his office, or chewing gum as he furiously as he writes things down. It's a win-win situation⏤all of their pens are spared, Sephiroth's biting habits have ceased, and if he has more sweets in his diet now, so what? He deserves to indulge.

• Genesis and Angeal make sure to keep his drawers stocked, going down to the convenience store once a week and picking out all of Sephiroth's favorite candy. They think he doesn't know where it's all coming from, that he's blissfully unaware of how much they care for him and can't stand to see him taking out his anxiety on his poor fingers.

• Sephiroth, in turn, finds it hilarious that Genesis doesn't know where that expensive red quill pen came from, or when he marvels at how his favorite gel pens seem to never run out. He thinks it's sweet how excited Angeal is when he finds a pack of brand new pencils in his desk drawer, and tries his hardest to remember when he bought himself an electric pencil sharpener shaped like a plant.

• They will never find out it's him, and Sephiroth will forever be grateful for their caring gesture.

#sephiroth #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #ffvii crisis core #ff7 crisis core #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #crisis core #fluff #writing

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fischotterkunst · 2 months ago

Text

Sleep Talking

DON’T STARVE TOGETHER PLATONIC FLUFF PROMPTS (closed)

Stumbling out of the tent, Wilson blinked groggily in the dim light of the early dawn. After rubbing sleep from his eyes, his vision cleared enough to register the form of Webber seated beside the fire. The youngster was hugging his furry little knees to his chest, all eight eyes fixed on Wilson with an expression of concern. As he helped himself to some of the food in their makeshift refrigerator, Wilson returned Webber’s gaze with a quizzical one of his own. “What’s wrong? Did something happen in the night?”

“We heard you talking in your sleep,” came the reply, delivered in a haunted tone. “You sounded scared. We didn’t know what to do. You told us not to go in there while you’re sleeping.”

Wilson frowned, remembering the circumstances under which he had decided to enact that rule. (In his defense, anyone would have been startled upon waking to all those eyes and fangs and legs staring back at them in the dark. It was fortunate that he had caught himself before lashing out in an instinctive reaction to seeing a Spider.) Selecting a piece of taffy from the larder, he joined Webber by the fire and offered him the treat. The strange little being immediately brightened, shoving the candy into his mouth and chewing with gusto. Wilson couldn’t help but smile at Webber’s simple delight. “There now, no need to worry. I’m sure it was just a nightmare. I do appreciate your concern.”

A bit of taffy had stuck to one of Webber’s fangs; he was now trying to lick it off. The distraction was clearly good for him, as his voice was steadier now. “When I had nightmares, Mum would give me some tea to help me sleep better. We think we should find something to make tea with so you can have some next time you have nightmares.”

Wilson smiled again and ruffled the wiry hair atop Webber’s head, glad for his gloves’ protection from the bizarre texture. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea. Let’s go together.”

#don't starve #don't starve together #wilson percival higgsbury #wilson p higgsbury #webber #dst #my writing

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mamamittens · 8 months ago

Text

Spooktober 2024 Event!

Running from 9/22/2024 to 9/30/2024 is my Spooktober Event!

A Halloween Party!

Which if you've been on the lookout, you'll have been given a spoiler for very recently!

It’ll be a lot like my Shake Date Event, actually.

Here’s how it’s going to work!

You, or if I’ve done it for you before, an OC, are going to a Halloween party! And you’ve been given a ride with a character (or two!). Maybe you dressed up, or maybe they did, but you find that there’s a candy bucket (or something close) waiting for you in the car. A little treat for coming out with them—how sweet!

This means I will only write your OC if I have done so before!

(Those of you who have already sent in an ask with new OCs, I'll get to you if I haven't already. New OC asks from this point on will be deleted. Handling someone's baby for the first time in a mass event is stressful).

You are to send me an ask in my ask box who was dressed up (they’ll be the ‘monster’ they’re dressed as), what candy bucket you’ve got, and what was in it! As for personal descriptions, you’re to tell me what you want me to know! I don’t know what you look like, after all. So let me know if you prefer a particular style of dress, your basic details, and something you want to have attention drawn to. Whether that’s your serious personality, or freckles! This is easier for OCs, as I’ll already have a frame of reference.

When doing the candy, feel free to have it be ‘given’ to someone specific if you want them to have that in particular. It’s nice to share, after all!

If you’re +18, you can drink at the party with your partner. Keep in mind the ‘costumes’ when asking for shots and who’s ordering them!

Costume – Monster

Vampire

Werewolf

Ghost

Demon

Serial killer

Undead

Scarecrows

Reaper

Boogeyman

Witch/Wizard

Naga (Snake person)

Drider (Spider person)

Mermaid

Angel

Alien (Specify the type if you’d like, whether that’s ‘The Thing’ or otherwise. If not, it’s dealer’s choice.)

Evil scientist

Hitman

Siren

Cult

Priest

Fae

Relationship – Chocolate Bars

Milk Chocolate - Meet cute

Cherry Chocolate - Rivals->lovers

White Chocolate – Friends ->lovers

Dark Chocolate - Predator/prey

Caramel Chocolate - Coworkers

Mint chocolate chip - Strangers

Kisses - Fling

Pop rock chocolate - Childhood friends

Chocolate covered nuts - One sided crush

Chocolate Orange -Yandere

Raspberry Chocolate – Platonic (For non-romance/sex)

Setting – Candy holder

Wooden Basket - Cabin in the woods

Leftover Bucket - Abandoned building (context may change exact type)

Recycled Milk Jug - ‘Normal town’

Prop Bucket - Dreamscape

Fuzzy Bucket - Home alone

Paper Bag - Countryside

Pumpkin Bucket - Actual normal town, urban fantasy/supernatural -esque setting

Plastic Bag – Workplace

Metal Bucket – Space

Striped bucket – Abandoned/Isolated lighthouse

Woven bucket – The Woods, such as a national park.

Salt treated wood bucket- The Ocean/On a Ship

Additional tropes

Smarties - Final Girl/Boy

Gummy Pack - Cursed artifact

Jolly Rancher - Stormy Night

Sour Patch - Summoning Evil

Tootsie Roll - Sacrificial offer

Ring Pop - Arranged Marriage

Fun Dip - Cosmic horror

Swedish Fish - Secretly the Monster/double life

Air Heads - Forbidden romance

Nerds - The Prophecy™

Twizzlers - Soul Mates

Blow Pop – Injury

Chewing gum – Hypnosis

Toffee – Urban exploration

Taffy – Reincarnated soul

Malts – Mysterious neighbor

Fireball – Stalker

Cotton Candy – Life debt

NSFW options below

BE WARNED: If you don’t have your age (at least a +18, I don’t need exact age, down to minute) in your bio or somewhere easily visible on your blog, I will just delete your ask. You must also have your character of choice (or characters) be +18 for this option.

I also will not be breaking any previous boundaries in concern towards the smut. So rest assured, there will be no coprophilia, water play, whatever fancy word for vomit there is, tickle play, age play, real people fiction, non con, or underage relationships. Requests to the contrary will, at best, be politely ignored.

This is not up for debate.

Smut

Black Rose - Breeding Kink

Butterball - Knotting

Cement Mixer – Pregnancy

Big Bang - Eggs

White Russian – Creampie/Cum play

Hot Damn – Praise kink

Mind Eraser – Degradation

Afterburner – Choking/breathplay

Jell-o shot – Edging

Pineapple Upside Down Cake – Oral

Alice in Wonderland – Size Kink

Motor Oil – Marking

Kamikaze – Temperature play (Served hot or cold for temp preferences)

Jager Bomb – Rough Sex (Extra strong is hate sex)

Green Tea shot – Soft Sex

Pink Schnapps – Dom/Sub (The person receiving this shot will be designated the ‘Sub’)

Black Jack – Restraints

Brain Hemorrhage - Overstimulation

Gladiator – Public Sex

Sangrita – Blood play

Apocalypse Now – Medical play (functions as the BD/SM shot)

B-52 – Toys/Objects (Also functions as the BD/SM shot, exact details contingent on other selections)

Jellybean – Anal (functions as the BD/SM shot, if the ‘giver’ is a human AFAB, a toy or strap is assumed. Ask for ‘Mini Jellybean’ for anal play but not full anal. Regarding AMAB characters, anal may be assumed regardless of this shot not being ordered)

I know there’s a word limit for an ask, so feel free to be a bit dry if you have to. If I REALLY have to, I can always ask for clarification through DMs, but I’d like to avoid it if possible. To that end, have your dms open so that I can actually ask. If I can’t get clarification and the ask is impossible to complete without it, I may just delete it.

Driest example possible:

“I, X (AFAB, Masc), go with Shanks (Vampire). I prefer casual dress, I have short blond hair, I’m a professional athlete (weights) but a bit chubby for off season, tan, and dark eyes. There’s a paper bag with Chocolate nuts that I give to him, with Jolly ranchers, sour patch, and tootsie rolls. He drinks a sangrita and we share Jager bomb, gladiator, brain hemmorrage, and cement mixers.”

It doesn’t have to be super detailed if you prefer to be straight forward to keep it within the word count. And it could also be very detailed if you’d like to play with it a little! As long as it’s clear, I don’t mind at all!

In relation to characters dramatically taller than what is realistic, I may tweak their height to something less… daunting without having to be asked. So, someone like Katakuri from One Piece may not be 16+ feet in a normal, ‘mostly human’ setting.

Other than that, I look forward to seeing what ya’ll come up with and hope it makes for a spooky good fun time for everyone!

#spooktober 2024 #anime event #ask box event

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numberoneacetrappolafan · 2 years ago

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☾Atsushi Headcanons!☽

TW FOR EATING DISORDERS, MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION, SELF LOATHING, SWEARING, VOMIT, MALNUTRITION, MENTIONS OF TERRORISM, SU!C!D3(Dazais song), UNSAFE BINDING, PANIC ATTACKS, DEATH, ABUSE, CHILD DEATH, RELIGIOUS TRAUMA, ACCIDENTAL CANNIBALISM,

•He is trans masc(Hasn’t gotten top/bottom surgery yet) He uses He/They Pronouns

•He is a Polyamorous Demisexual Pansexual

•He has a whole slew of mental and physical disorders, he found out because Kunikida took him to get tested for autism

•Disorders he has: PTSD, OCD, ADHD, ADD, Autism, Depression, Anxiety Disorder, 3 Eating Disorders, Psychosis, Malnutrition, Schizophrenia, Borderline Personality Disorder, Tics and Tourette’s, restless leg syndrome, echolalia, and Cervical Dystonia

•After hearing this he just looked at Kunikida and asked, “Why am I collecting them?”

•He is a really good singer, he used to sing to younger kids at the orphanage who couldn’t sleep or were just having a bad day, it was the one thing he couldn’t hate about himself

•Once Kunikida learned Atsushi had never had a good father figure he started subconsciously acting like one towards him, checking in on him, teaching him things, defending him, buying him things, taking time out of his schedule to make sure he’s alright, driving him places etc

•Atsushi has and will eat small animals if given the chance

•He really likes Tangled because he finds Rapunzels story relatable, and because he likes chameleons

•He is a really good artist, he used to draw whenever he could in the orphanage

•Some of Atsushis Tics are: “We’ve been accused of Terroism!”, “Meow Meow!”, “Beep”, “Fuck you”, “Buzz Buzz”

•He has echolalia, and repeats a lot of things, such as: Dazais Su!c!d3 song, “Super Mystery Solver!” And “Rashomon!”

•Byakko is sentient and says the weirdest things, ex: “You should eat your ginger friend”

•Atsushi has a reflex similar to a cat where he will slap someone if they surprise him, leading to him accidentally bitch slapping Dazai

•Atsushi has VERY strong teeth, one time Ranpo brought jawbreakers to work and gave Atsushi one, Ranpo then started talking to Yosano when they heard a loud *CRACK*, and just see Atsushi chewing on a jawbreaker as if it was taffy. Everyone just stared and Atsushi was confused. (Kunikida panicked)

•After he ate all that Chazuke in the first episode, he actually ended up vomiting because his stomach wasn’t used to that much to eat

•He used to bind with bandages, But when Kunikida found out, he taught him how to properly bind

•He chews on everything he can, strings, yarn, rubber, electrical cords, you name it. Atsushi is basically a cat in that sense, Kunikida has bought him teething toys for this

•Tanizaki and Atsushi are best friends, Tanizaki knows the most about what happened to Atsushi at the orphanage, and Atsushi knows the most about his insecurities

•One time Atsushi was falling asleep on the agency’s couch and nobody had the heart to wake him up, eventually he had to. So Kunikida shook him awake, and in a soft tone said, “Cmon kid, you need to get up.” Atsushi mumbled and replied, “Just five more minutes dad….” Needless to say Atsushi got a lot more than five minutes, and if Kunikida cried, nobody said anything

•One time Kunikida arrived at the agency(He’s usually the first one there, only to find Atsushi there already started on work) Kunikida was very proud of him and pat his head

•Yosano made it her goal to get Atsushi to stop apologizing for everything, every time he does, she will stare at him until he takes it back

•Kunikida teaches Atsushi math whenever they have time

•Atsushi can only get drunk/high if something has catnip in it

•One time Atsushi broke a glass object at Kunikidas house, and in a panic attempted to clean it up with his bare hands, Kunikida comforted him and made sure he was alright

•Sometimes if someone praises him or pats him he will purr

•When he gets over emotional sometimes his ears and tail will pop out

•Atsushi stress bakes

•He’s not that good of a swimmer(Never got proper lessons)

•He tends to cover his ears whenever things get loud

•He enjoys sitting in sunspots

•He could decimate anyone with insults, you insult someone he loves? He will absolutely DESTROY you

•Atsushis favorite number is the date he met Kunikida and Dazai

•Despite not liking physical touch he is a clingy drunk

•He doesn’t have a lot of pop culture knowledge, so Dazai set up annual movie nights to teach him

•He has freckles

•Gets super bad nightmares

•He has really sharp teeth

•He has HORRENDOUS spice tolerance

•He’s never had “The Talk”

•He will sit in a box if given the chance

•Just like how a cat slow blinks at people it trusts, so does Atsushi

•He does the making biscuit thing that cats do

•One time the ADA found Atsushi curled up in a cabinet

•If Atsushi ever learned how to drive he would have EXTREME road rage

•He’s never been on a plane

•Naomi, Tanizaki, Atsushi, and Haruno get together every Wednesday after work, and just mess around, it’s a double date of sorts (Haruno and Naomi are dating) and Tanizaki and Atsushi are pining for one another

•He has a quiet sneeze, because people at the orphanage would get mad if he was loud

•He likes sitting out in the rain, Kunikida scolds him for tracking in water, and raising the chance of him getting a cold

•He is oblivious to flirting, you have to be VERY forward to get him to notice, and when he does he turns into a flustered mess

•At the orphanage he would take on a parental/Big Brother role for the younger kids

•He figured out he was trans when he was 13, after an older kid told him about it

•He’s not that good of a cook, he can make the basics but other than that he’ll get lost

•He’s not very good at fashion

•He had two close friends at the orphanage, Roberto(I named him after the bird from Rio 2) and Yūki

•One day during a cold winter, Yūki was punished for accidentally breaking a vase, she was thrown outside in the cold with nothing but an old cloak. The next morning Atsushi and Roberto ran outside to look for her, they saw something In the snow, and when they got closer they realized it was Yūkis dead body, she had died of hypothermia

•Roberto faked his death and ran away after this, leaving Atsushi all alone. I like to believe he ended up somewhere in Yokohama

•Atsushi loves strawberries, the first time he tried them he couldn’t help but just scarf them all down

•He can eat raw meat

•He has religious trauma, everyday at the orphanage he would pray that he would become someone worthy of life

•After Shibusawas murder, the headmaster fed Atsushi bits of his body. Atsushi was confused at the fact he was given more to eat and more often. He thought that he finally earned his right to live. He is completely unaware that he did this

•Everyone at the agency takes turns teaching Atsushi different things

•He wants to learn how to play the flute

•He can’t whistle

•He can see in the dark

•He likes to draw on his skin

•He hates the way his eyes look

•He has a cat-like tongue

•He can understand cats

#bsd atsushi #bsd nakajima atsushi #bsd #bungou stray dogs #headcanon #bsd headcanons #atsushi nakajima #nakajima atsushi #bungou stray dogs atsushi #anime #angst #fluff #Kunikida and Atsushi #ADA #armed detective agency #HCs

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