#there's also chaos witch!reader which i love

[ridestomars]

on the topic of mythical creatures…. thoughts on witch!reader x eddie? 👀

MANY thoughts, anon. i like to think of witch!reader being an outsider just like eddie, and not because of their magic but because they simply do not fit it; i mean, how could you? your ultimate style icon was stevie nicks while all the other people looked up to people like madonna. and you were always covered in crystals and smelled funny... like smoked weed (when it's only the smell of your last burned incense).

the incense thing makes me think that eddie would probably think you're really cool because you smoke weed and don't feel the need to hide it – and that's probably one of the main reasons he started talking to you in the first place. so he is a bit weirded out when he finds you lighting up a thin incense stick to let the smoke banish the bad energies, because what the fuck is sandalwood and why are you spinning that thing?

but once you two get acquainted and actually become friends, i think he'd be really interested in learning more about witchcraft and everything that comes with it. he would love to read your books because it's like they speak the same language as his fantasy stories; he would make sure to always wear the black tourmaline bracelet you made for him, never leaving the house without it. eddie would love to hear about spell jars and how to use normal kitchen items to do witchy stuff, as he calls it. also, if you play tarot, he would ask the stupidest questions and would be terrified to touch it – because when he (not so secretly) did, the cards that came out were the devil, the death, and the tower. but he loves the imagery and would probably make a corroded coffin poster using the devil card.

i get too carried away when i talk about this (esp tarot because i am a tarot reader), but jesus fuck he would be absolutely obsessed!!! even though you're still trying to convince him that astrology is actually useful. 😠

[milunalupin]

hi!! I would like to request older!reader and older!sirius black where reader ends up saving him from bellatrix’s curse.

ty for requesting !! enjoyyy <3 + ty to my lovie for helping :)

— another one bites the dust (but it's definitely not sirius)

post azkaban!sirius x reader ★ 1.5k words

Lily Evans was your best friend. The two of you had been sorted into Gryffindor as muggleborn witches together and assigned the same dorm. The two of you did everything together, from studying in the library to braiding each others hair down by the Black Lake. Of course being that close meant you had to witness all of James Potter's attempts at winning your best friend over. One time you happened to alone on your way to class when James and the other 'Marauders' had stopped you, begging you for any tips on how to successfully ask Lily out.

"You've gotta let this go. She's way out of your league, you toerag." You had rolled your eyes at him, the boy gaping at your remark as you had always seemed pretty docile. Sirius Black — who you now notice was standing beside the bespectacled boy — barked out a laugh and applauded you, causing a warm feeling in your chest that you would never admit was because of him. Moreover, if James ever asked him to, Sirius wouldn't mind hanging out with you to get information on Lily (and not because he thought you were super cute).

Once James had successfully convinced Lily to date him, you and her had blended in well with the Marauders. When Lily and James would have their couple time, you would play chess with Peter and study with Remus in the common room. Sirius even let you join in on planning and performing their famous pranks (which did not jumpstart a crush on him or anything). The six of you had become your own little family, and when James had proposed to Lily after graduation it was no surprise who the groomsmen and maid of honor would be.

Meanwhile you had also fallen in love with Sirius Black during your time at Hogwarts, and the two of you had become attached at the hip. Sirius would walk with you to class, and you'd spend nights in the astronomy tower talking about the future.

You were each other's safe space, and Sirius loved you so deeply, which led to a lot of heartbreak the the night Lily and James were killed and your boyfriend was sent to Azkaban for the rest of his life for being the one who did it. You spent the next twelve years working under the Department of Magical Law enforcement as an investigator, trying to convince the Ministry that Sirius would never in a million years do anything to hurt his friend, much less kill him and his wife. They ignored you, dismissing your claims as a fit of hysteria, weaponizing your grief against you. You had been nonstop trying to figure out what exactly happened that night, regularly exchanging letters with Remus until he sent his final one, asking you to refrain from sending any more, as he felt too betrayed by Sirius to hear any of your theories.

The moment Peter had been revealed as the true murderer, Remus had come by your flat to apologize in person, the two of you reconciling over tea and teary hugs. When Sirius finally came back things were slow to return to "normal", but the two of you were just as in love with each other as you were back at Hogwarts. Because of his current situation with the Ministry, you moved in with him at 12 Grimmauld Place, then agreeing immediately when Dumbledore had come to the two of you about reassembling the Order of the Phoenix.

"You're a cheater Sirius Black, I don't want to play anymore." You huffed, standing up and throwing the playing cards down on the coffee table. The two of you were playing cards on the couch in Grimmauld place, trying to have a relaxing night amidst the recent chaos. Sirius cooed and pulled you down to sit on his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing sweet kisses to your shoulder. "Oh you'll survive, Mrs. Black."

The name alone caused you to melt into him, but the way he was looking at you in that moment made you feel like a teenager again, shy and in love with the boy before you. "Mrs. Black? We're not even engaged, love."

He grabbed your left hand, his thumb running over your ring finger, his voice becoming as soft as his touch. "It's coming, darling, don't you worry."

Your future mother-in-law screeched in horror from her place on the wall. "The most ancient and noble House of Black will not be accepting of a revolting mudblood! Must keep the blood pure, toujous pur!"

"I like to think I've been patient enough." you teased, gesturing to where his mother's portrait hung, the crazy bitch still muttering nonsense to herself.

Sirius sighed and lightly squeezed your hip. "I know m'love, you've been too good to me. Once things blow over a bit, I promise we'll get back to how things used to be, yeah?"

You hummed, brushing the hair out of his face and kissing his forehead. "No need to rush, we've got the rest of our lives, Sirius."

The fireplace suddenly lights up green as Severus comes through, his lip curling on one side as he saw the position you two were in and moved his gaze to somewhere else in the room.

"Severus," Sirius clicked his tongue, cocking his head to the side. "to what do we owe this pleasure?"

"The Dark Lord," his eyes met yours, then shifted to settle on Sirius. "seems to have put an idea in Mr. Potter's head that you were being tortured at the Ministry. He's on his way there to look for you, you are to alert the Order."

You and Sirius stood immediately, thanking Severus as he disappeared again and sending your patronus' to the other Order members. They arrive quickly and the six of you head to the Ministry and apparate down to the lower level chambers, wands at the ready.

Kingsley and Alastor moved towards one group of Death Eaters, with Remus and Tonks on the defense. "Harry, where's Harry?" you were frantic looking for your godson, Sirius right beside you. You find him in combat with Dolohov, rushing to his side just as he hit the dark wizard with a Full Body Bind curse.

"Nice one, Haz!" Sirius praised from a few feet away. Harry beamed at you and you smiled and squeezed his shoulder quickly before heading back over to Sirius.

The chamber was complete chaos, the dark walls lighting up with flashes of all colors, all kinds of hexes and jinxes were being thrown around. You had to admit, Harry and the other students were great at duelling and really kept up with the Order members. Out of the corner of your eye you see your beloved's deranged cousin, her wand locked onto Sirius. Her wand glowed green as she shouted out an unforgivable spell.

You turn around to see him just a few feet from the Veil. "Sirius!" you gasp, immediately casting 'Accio' to pull him out of Bellatrix's way, his hands gripping your waist to steady himself, eyes blown out in shock. You both are staring at each other, eyes watery and chests heaving.

"Too fucking good to me, darling."

Your moment was interrupted by a screeching Bellatrix, sending a 'Confringo' your way. You managed to dodge it but the spell caught the sleeve of Sirius' coat.

"Don't you fucking dare!" you growled, shooting multiple stunning spells at her which she annoyingly kept deflecting. She laughed maniacally as you circled each other, casting spells left and right. The dark witch then shot another spell at Sirius, effectively hitting him in the back then grinning madly at you, "Whoopsie!"

Your heartbeat picked up as you realized where she was standing. You quickly scanned the chamber and it seemed that most of the Death Eaters had fled or been taken down. You'd never killed anyone before, but she was one of Voldemort's strongest followers. Not only that, but she tried to attack your Sirius not just once, not twice, but three times. Your eyes widened as you saw her prepare another curse on him.

"Not my boyfriend, you bitch!"

You cast 'Depulso', throwing her back a few feet into the Veil, immediately sending her into the world of the dead. You stood there frozen, your wand still pointed where Bellatrix once stood. Sirius pulled you back into his arms, whispering "thank you"s and "i love you"s into your ear.

Harry had appeared next as the battle ended, joining in your group hug, the three of you holding each other tight. You kissed the top of your godson's head, no longer unable to hold back your tears.

Harry had come home with you and Sirius that night, having some dinner and then going upstairs to stay in one of the spare rooms. Sirius held you close in bed that night, thanking you once again for saving him. You smiled and squeezed his hand, thanking him for coming back to you all those years ago. You fell asleep that night unaware of the sparkling diamond that was hidden in Sirius' nightstand.

[ispelexists]

SHADOW MILK COOKIE AND 'THEATRUM MUNDI'

"The world's a stage, and the actors are playing their roles in it"

The idea of Theatrum Mundi dumbed down. It's a simple concept, that concludes that the life itself is a show, being directed by some supernatural force like for example god etc.

(If I'm wrong correct me, I'm not that much into literature and this kind of stuff)

This idea caused me to write down a few prompts for you pookies <3

🎭

The thing is, is that you have so many options with this, like... AHHH

English isn't my first language, I apologize for any confusion I might've caused by these

Here's some ideas/prompts for you guys:

💙 1. 💙

🎭) AU where Shadow Milk's corruption begun not because of the overwhelming power he had, but because he, as the 'Virtue of Knowledge' knew everyone's script after looking at them, and being distraught by that fact, or the fact that almost every Common Folks life ended with a tragedy, a murder (by the hands of the beasts, but he doesn't know that) which terrifies him.

He, being the only one who knew about it, would try to figure out what this tragedy was, or to change the fate, not knowing the cause of it, was himself and those he considered him the closest.

🎭) In the end he got so focused on that task, he didn't see his own slow fall, and when he noticed it in his comrades, it was to late. The only thing he could do was to accept his end, and join the other Beasts in wrecking chaos, and ending the whole ACT.

🎭 (In this AU, he can only see the key moments in everyone's life, like for example marriage, death, and other important things, he can't see everyday life of anyone)

🎭 (Also the only one's he doesn't know his script, that's why he doesn't know he would fall to corruption, you can say that he also can't see other Beasts since they're equal in power, but I think it works either way)

💙 2. 💙

🎭) A concept where Shadow Milk Cookie, freshly after his corruption, goes around either in a physical form or hidden withing the shadows, observing random cookies life, and having a great time laughing at the absurdity of the fact he can basically knows what's gonna happen next.

🎭) For example seeing a cookie buy something at the store, and him being able to predict they would trip in a moment, which they do. After observing, he would start to act out, to see if his actions can change the events that would happen next (Example: Making person A fall on someone else's garden, and the other cookie getting angry at them, which would change not only Cookies A script, but also Cookie's B) (basically 'Butterfly Effect')

🎭) This prompt would allow to explore how he might've acted freshly after becoming fully corrupted. Reason being I think, he wouldn't jump straight into seeking chaos, but testing the waters to see how far he can go before anyone (witches) try to stop him

🎭) (As an Ex 'Virtue of Knowledge' in this AU he knows every detail of everyone's scrip/life)

💙 3. 💙

🎭) This one is a prompt for an 'x Reader', 'x Canon' or 'x OC'. Basically Shadow Milk Cookie after he got released from the tree (of right after he got corrupted) and meets Insert/Name and Gingerbrave gang.

🎭)Here it could go 2 different ways (or more, but I just don't feel like writing them all):

a) He knew of I/N because of being able to see through Pure Vanilla's staff and falling for them in that way, but after seeing that I/N either has no love interest planned in the whole thing, or has some else, he's getting angry

(if you're doing pre-corruption Shadow Milk, then he can get just sad, and attempting to change the fate by simply spending more time with I/N, but after it hasn't worked, he just watches from the sidelines, as their beloved live in their fairytale, and get their happy ending with someone else (ANGSTSSS YESS))

anyways, coming back to Corrupted Shadow Milk Cookie. He would attempt changing the fate in more drastic way, and getting really pissed that it won't change no matter what. Feel free to interpret it as you will.

b) Also after getting free from that tree, while he knew of I/N from Pure Vanilla, after meeting them, he learns that in their story HE is their love interest, and being like 'Omg, my star, where have you been all my life 😩' or something idk, be creative lmao.

🎭

The art without the text 😘

[yandere-loveer]

⋎﹒🃏﹒✾，Yandere shadow milk cookie scenario

✶﹒┊Warnings: Obsession, kidnapping, forced companionship, yandere, rape, kisses without consent, mental and physical abuse towards reader, shadow milk a little OOC, reader!fem.

✶﹒┊Summary: Shadow Milk Cookie met you when he was not corrupted by the power given to him by his creators. The jester cookie that you wanted so much changed a lot and here comes hell...

✶﹒┊If you are a sensitive person, I recommend not reading this or if you have a bad experience with some of the topics mentioned above, I also recommend not reading this for your mental health! ♡

﹒𓇼﹒﹒Shadow Milk Cookie with her friends were created with the sole purpose of taking care of their world and the other defenseless cookies.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒The jester appreciated cookies and always put on shows for everyone, so they could feel safe. His personality was calm and he maintained a joking side to the cookies he swore to protect with his friends.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒You met him there when you were a simple town girl, I simply made you curious that so many cookies spoke of the happiness and confidence that the jester called shadow milk cookie brought.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒You couldn't deny that you were delighted with what he did and he could make a lot of cookies happy, especially that you loved that he also did small shows for children. He always brought a smile to everyone and you too...

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ You caught his attention and you didn't know how, but it was the best. All the time that you were luckily able to talk to him, you could only praise and thank him for his efforts to keep everyone well. Which he couldn't help but feel very excited about.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ Aww... Now always when he did shows he brought you so you could shine on stage along with him for everyone. In those small moments they both felt like they were the only ones who existed and no one else.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ He visited you a lot in your humble house and he surprised you by entering your window, you were always surprised by his unexpected views, but he embarrassed you with your way of living. He never cared about that. You loved the moments you spent with him and even shadow milk expressed to his friends how great it was to spend time with you.

"Reader cookie, she's wonderful. I just hope I can do shows with her forever..." He was so lost in his thoughts about you that his friends just laughed and some rolled their eyes at it.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ But all good things can end without realizing it, the only thing you could say was that you had noticed Shadow Milk very strange and sometimes he had a smile that scared everyone. One that was very sinister and dark...

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ You noticed that everything he said sometimes were pure lies and created conflicts between the cookies, which scared them all and they never smiled because of the anguish they felt at that time.

﹒𓇼﹒﹒The way he clung to you was very sticky and suffocating, he made very possessive comments and how he was going to keep you with him always.

"I'm going to keep you in a cage so you don't leave, HA HA HA! I'm kidding... or maybe not" he could only whisper the last thing, but you could hear it. You just turned a blind eye to it, he always told the truth and made you feel safe. But why isn't it like that now...?

﹒𓇼﹒﹒Before you could realize everything was chaos, many cookies were dying due to the cruel actions of the heroes who were now beasts... Now you were in a cage next to shadow milk cookie who said romantic things to you. way and you wore almost their shades of clothing to match. They were a real couple, cheer up!

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ The witches, with nothing else to do, put an end to the evil actions of their creations. You felt like you were going to be free until you saw how your lover grabbed your little legs so you could stay with him...

"Y-You can't leave me!" He sounded desperate as he watched him being locked up along with his friends who were upset by what was happening.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ You saw how you were locked up along with shadow milk cookie and the witches couldn't do anything about the cruel fate you were facing. Living next to a beast. He was really happy that at least he was able to take you and stay with you.

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ You were just asking for help from any cookie or creator, anyone! But no one could hear you, only your loved one who looked confused at your reaction to the confinement. You closed your eyes and felt tears coming out, but your eyes widened when you felt Shadow Milk Cookie's disgusting hands that were behind you. It seems like it would take forever to force you to do things you didn't want to do. During that time, only your cries and prayers were heard...

﹒𓇼 ﹒﹒ At that moment you were now with shadow milk sitting on the dark floor that surrounded them in that dark prison. He was hugging you from behind and you alone couldn't even make the effort to think or react to what had happened before. You couldn't hear what shadow milk was saying, everything was blurry, you were in a state of shock. You could only squeeze one of your hands that was close to your private area, at that moment you felt dirty and the sinister smile of that beast was getting bigger...

[cookierunauprompts]

AU Prompt #6 💓♪

Time slowed to a full stop around you as you focused, the chaos surrounding the silver tree all brought to a halt. Not even Pure Vanila Cookie or White Lily Cookie could move a singular fiber of their being. Such is the perks of having Dungeon Master Cookie as your patron. And, speaking of your patron, she stared down at you with her huge, white eyes. " So, the seal upon the silver tree has broken, thus releasing the five Fallen Heroes into the land of Earthbread once more. Now, Reader Cookie, I suspect you want to do something before I have you roll initiative, yes?" " That's correct, Dungeon Master Cookie." You reply, staring up at the holy, towering figure. However all the seriousness of this moment was thrown out of the window with a few, simple words. " I'd like to roll to seduce the Jester." Your patron seemed... unamused? Yet also as if she were expecting this. After all you did the exact same thing with Dark Enchantress Cookie, but that was just for the funny(plus, you got a nat1 that time). You were completely serious about attempting to woo Shadow Milk Cookie, maybe even another one of the Beasts if they showed themselves. " Are- Are you seriously doing this again?" She asked exasperatedly, to which you eagerly nodded. With a sigh and a wave of her hand, a D20 appeared in your arms. " Fine, fine, give me a Charisma check." And once again, fate blesses you. With a natural 20. " ... NAT 20 LET'S GOOOOO!!!!" You can feel the tired aura from Dungeon Master Cookie. " Alright, alright... I'll let you have this." She sighed as the world faded back into motion. You stood tall and proud next to Pure Vanilla Cookie + Gingerbrave and Friends before you stepped forwards. You're pretty sure that you gave PV war flashbacks with the expression on your face. " Reader Cookie for the love of the Witches-" He attempted to plead, but it was already far too late. " Shadow Milk Cookie, hm?" You began, your tone flirty as it always was when you did shit like this. " What a fine name for such a clearly ever so powerful cookie~" You hummed flirtatiously, batting your eyelashes at the gigantic jester before you. " Oh?" Shadow Milk Cookie hummed, leaning down to get a better look at you. " My my! I didn't think I had such an adoring fan of mine waiting for me here~!" He chirped, a subtle yet bright blue hue taking over his face. " Lord have mercy on us all..." Pure Vanilla Cookie mumbled to himself almost desperately. If both you and Shadow Milk Cookie are flirts... then you'll probably be here, locked in a battle of the heart for a while.

....

Or, You, Reader Cookie, have a Patron named Dungeon Master Cookie. Cue DnD shenanigans brought to the world of Cookie Run. And of course, the natural chaos a nat20 brings when you decide to flirt with the bbeg of the current adventure.

[chuuyrr]

would scarlet witch reader be able to read dazais mind?? i dont know if he would be able to completely nullify scarlet witch readers ability tho right? IM JUST OBSESSED WITH THIS NEW AU OF YOURS

scarlet witch! reader reading dazai's mind

bungo stray dogs x scarlet witch! reader

masterlist of the series

╰➤ CW(s): fluff, suggestive, headcanons

╰➤ PAIRING(s): dazai osamu

╰➤ SYNOPSIS: in which you, the scarlet witch, reads dazai osamu's mind using your "wiggly-woos" or chaos magic

headcanons !

dazai's mind has an array of thoughts.

there are thoughts of him committing you know what, strategies and deductions, and you were taken aback to think this man had feelings for you as he had thoughts for you.

dazai didn't even know you could read his mind at first since he was confident in his ability, but he was obviously wrong.

he is aware that you have the ability to enter other people's heads and read their thoughts given your special ability, but he also knows how you rarely use it unless absolutely necessary.

but you then caught dazai thinking about you one day in the office since his noisy thoughts were all over the place as they progressively built up over time.

and to be fair, dazai flirts with anyone and everyone, so it's difficult to imagine he likes you so much when you see how his head is filled with thoughts of you.

thoughts of you flashing him such a charming little smile, thoughts of you tilting your head at him whenever he asks you on a double suicide or flirts with you, or thoughts of you tilting your head at your foes when you're literally ready to annihilate them with your chaos magic ability.

all of dazai's mind was you, you, and you.

apart from every other thought that is.

dazai was actually surprised when you read his mind because his ability cannot negate yours, and your blushing made that clear.

is he embarrassed? no, of course not. he's dazai. he even has a shit-eating grin on his face when he sees your shy and blushing, surprised expression, and he's not even furious that you can read his thoughts.

dazai actually uses the fact that you can read his mind more of his advantage.

he often makes himself think about and play suggestive thoughts for you to see and read with your "wiggly-woos" magic.

dazai, being dazai, makes you see for yourself through his mind how badly he wants to kiss your lips, nibble at your neck to find your most sensitive sweet places and maybe mark you as his, and get a hold of you to feel up your soft, warm, and velvety skin.

dazai also imagines you in various attire that may or may not be revealing at times, or just how adorable and beautiful you would look with his coat and other clothes on you.

he loves your blushing and wide-eyed expression as you read or see it from his mind, or how you close your eyes shut while telepathically yelling at him to stop.

on a more serious side, dazai does use it in a more proper and beneficial manner during missions for the detective agency, but he genuinely likes making you red and shy with his very own thoughts about you.

and, on an annoying note, dazai does, in fact, utilize your ability to read his mind to make you hear his cheesy poetic sweet nothings, like how adorable you are when you scrunch your brows, how beautiful your smile is, and how stunning you are even when you're a mess.

he even calls you sweetheart, darling, and precious in his thoughts and not just in reality, making sure to say it aloud in his head especially for you to hear or read.

dazai also has a habit of mentally calling your name repeatedly just to get your attention and poke fun with you when you ignore him or are otherwise preoccupied.

you may be the fearsome and all powerful scarlet witch, capable of twisting reality to your liking with the snap of your fingers.

but with dazai around, you're no match as he knows how to make you nervous, flustered, and all vulnerable with his genuine and loving affections for you.

[ author's notes ! this was my first time writing something suggestive which i honestly doubt is even suggestive, but it is for me, so yeah. i've been listening to fetish, the ariana granda x selena gomez remix, and i got the motivation to write for dazai and attempt at something (which i ain't entirely proud of ngl), but anyway, it is still a new post from me, yours truly, niki, and i hope you still liked it !! (๑>◡<๑) ]

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[the-hidden-pages]

Kinktober Day 4 - Thigh Riding | Sex Pollen - Jaskier x Fem!Reader

Thigh riding | Sex pollen | Forced orgasm 

Disclaimer: I did interpret “sex pollen” as loose as aphrodisiac - it’s not an actual pollen, it’s a liquid.  Also, it's late, I have work, I did rush a little to get this out but it's better than another day sans post I hope!

Summary: Geralt had warned you of the dangers of consorting with witches. But you had never anticipated the dangers being this.

Warnings: NSFW, Public Sex/Orgies, Aphrodisiac, Dub Con because of the aphrodisiac but they love each other I swear.

Geralt had warned you.

Geralt had warned you of the dangers of witches often enough. Even Yennefer, a witch herself, often advised against mingling with others that dabble in Chaos.

But that didn’t stop Jaskier from accepting the opportunity of performing on behalf of a town’s witch.

It didn’t stop you from attending the gathering in support of him.

Which is how the pair of you wound up in the mansion of the local town’s “healer”, surrounded by townsfolk that were in the know, and various other mages and witches.

Jaskier had sung wonderfully, as captivating as he ever did - and to hold the attention of those as vain as witches and mages was no small feat, you’ll give him that.

As the night went on, he was free to mingle, returning to your side and sip on the wine that was being freely poured, to feast on the foods presented.

“And to think Geralt was worried,” Jaskier scoffed, in his element, overconfident in the way he often became when things were going a little too smoothly.

It didn’t stop you from smiling though, an easy grin matching his on your face. “A worrywart, that one. A white haired worrywart of a Witcher.”

“Isn’t he just? He ought to have more trust in us.”

You chuckled, taking another sip before waving your glass in emphasis. “Did he warn you about the wine?”

“No, what of it?”

“Yennefer mentioned some witches put something in it, an aphrodisiac. Makes the night more fun as it goes on.”

Jaskier made a face, somewhere between a grimace and a grin. “Oh woe is me, a witch’s orgy. Save me, Butcher of Blaviken!”

A snort escapes you as the pair of you take another sip, continuing to pass the time discussing his various adventures with Geralt, his performance, and the various attendees of the soiree.

The conversation carried on easily, until the vibe of the room suddenly, inexplicably, intangibly…Shifted

Suddenly the air was heavier, thicker in a way that was hotter, heavier. It felt as though the voices of the other partygoers was quieting, slowing down. You became more aware of certain things - men sitting with their hands on other women’s thighs, just a little too high. A flush on women’s cheeks that ran a little brighter, went a little further down than the typical blush from too much wine.

And you were very aware of Jaskier sitting beside you.

His thigh lightly touching yours was suddenly scalding you, but in a way that you felt you simply couldn’t move away.

You hadn’t realized you had stopped listening to the conversation entirely until Jaskier called your name.

You met his eyes, ready to apologize, before immediately regretting it.

Were his eyes always so piercing? His hair always so soft? Did you always notice how deeply he unbuttoned his shirt, how noticeable the droplets of sweat were running down it.

Oh.

Oh.

“Jaskier,” you croaked out, suddenly noticing how dry your mouth was. You licked your lips and continued. “Jaskier, the wine. I don’t think Geralt was wrong.”

“Hmm?” the bard only hummed, and you met his eyes again. He was practically in a trance, staring at where your tongue had darted out to wet your lips.

Slowly, around you, you begin to hear soft sighs, and the lower, hushed tones of lovers speaking to one another.

You grow more aware of the unbearable, present, nearly painful heat between your legs, and when you shift, you realize that you’re already drenched.

“Jask…”

The bard reached forward, placing a large, warm, calloused hand on your thighs.

“They spiked the wine,” he breathes out, turning himself enough that his head is resting against yours, words breathing right in your ear and sending chills down your spine.

“Mhm,” your eyes are closed, trying to ignore the stimuli coming from all senses that your body seems hyper aware of. The gasps, the quiet moans, people growing closer.

Jaskier right beside you.

“Darling we can leave right now,” he breathes, hand on your thigh growing tighter, wandering ever so slightly higher. “We can rent a room in the nearest tavern - or two, if you want to wait this out. We don’t have to stay -”

You cut him off, pushing him back. You can see him start to form an apology, but before giving him the chance you stand and move to position yourself on his lap, straddling his legs and capturing him in a frantic kiss.

It’s not coordinated, or careful, or planned. The moment Jaskier’s brain catches up to what you’ve done, he’s immediately pried your lips open with his tongue, tasting you, claiming you, his hand coming around to cradle your head and pull you in deeper. His other hand wanders quickly, greedily, grasping at every inch of you that he can.

You already don’t want clothes in the way.

As quickly as you get on him, you stand again. The bard is dazed, bright eyes nothing but dark pupils gazing at you as you begin to make quick work of your clothes.

It’s the wine, some tiny, miniscule part in the back of your mind speaks. It’s the wine making you strip in front of a room of strangers, the wine making you mount your friend in a fit of desire.

The wine. Only the wine.

It has to be.

Your hands, in their flurry, begin to struggle with the laces, of which Jaskier is far too eager to help you with.

He leans forward, reaching up to help you loosen the corset. As it’s flung somewhere to your side, he makes quick work of your undershirt, your skirts.

Quickly, so quickly it all began, and just as quickly you’re completely nude, with the bard urging you back into his lap.

In your haste, you slip a little, falling to one side and straddling only one of his thighs.

Despite this you moan, jolting slightly as sliding on the thigh offers some friction to your throbbing clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, grasping on to his shoulders tightly, your body moving without your full consent as you seek any form of relief to the growing burn within you.

It’s too much, the feeling of the cotton trousers beneath you, offering a burning friction to satiate your need, the growing groans echoing throughout the entire room. 

It’s not enough, when Jaskier himself lets out a beautiful moan, feeling you begin to soak through his clothes as you claw at him desperately.

“Dove, please,” he begs, leaning forward to pepper your neck and collarbone with bites. Your hips rock faster, until he tugs harshly at your hair, exposing your neck fully as you shout. His teeth mark your neck and his grip remains firm, his other hand wandering down to aide your movements. 

Your mind, in its wine and drug and lust addled haze, can only focus on two things: easing the burn between your legs, and hearing one of his beautiful sounds again.

And so your hand promptly finds his cock, working it through the flap in his trousers and stroking.

Gods is he hard.

It’s his turn to have his head thrown back, to let out a loud, melodic moan to the room to join the symphony of the others’. It’s rougher than you expected, lightly due to his night of signing and shouting boisterously to a room, but hells did it ever manage to turn you on.

You’re rushing it, you know it, he knows it, but somehow no one can bring themselves to mind as you raise yourself up further, straddling him properly once again.

You stare into the bard’s blue eyes, taking in every expression as you sink down fully, gasping as you feel every inch, every curve, every vein. It’s easy, with how wet you’ve become, and within seconds you’re riding him and hard as you can.

He’s eager to help you, hands grasping your hips so tightly they’re bound to leave bruises, controlling your pace and pulling you ever so slightly closer.

“This isn’t,” Jaskier gasped out, between groans and moans bites to your neck. “This isn’t what I wanted for our first night together.”

“You dreamed of this?” You tease half-heartedly, feeling a warmth in your heart bloom despite the absurdity of the situation.

Was this bard really about to give you a love confession whilst balls deep in you in the midst of a sex party?

“Of course,” he moaned, head thrown back and eyes clenched shut. “Gods, so many nights I wanted to have you, in the nearest room in a tavern, against the nearest wall, in the midst of camp. There was a plan, wine and dinner and singing and flowers, just us - fuck do that again.”

You reach for his hair, forcefully pulling his head back to meet your gaze.

“We’ll do this again,” you promise, thighs burning as you ride faster, chasing that growing feeling within you. “I’ve wanted it too, and we’ll talk about it when this damned wine isn’t in our heads but Jaskier, please just fuck me right now I’m so close -”

He stops you, hand travelling forward to meet your clit, rubbing in just the right way that has you seeing stars within seconds.

With your high comes his, and you can’t help but whine at the feeling of his cum shooting deep within you, warming you from the inside out as you clutch each other desperately, needly, as though you were the answer to some eternal unasked question.

As the pair of you come down, gasping, panting, your ears pick up the rest of the party beginning to quiet as well. It was almost as if the spell had a time limit, you thought aimlessly.

As you came to, and the sensations began to dull, your mind grew louder.

You had just fucked Jaskier.

You were still sitting on his cock.

As you go to move, his hand holds your hip tightly, and the other travels upwards to brush some hair out of your face, cupping your cheek. His gaze is gentle, kind, but hungry.

“We’ll do it again, you say?” he teases, that overconfident smirk back on his face. You can feel him hardening inside you once again, and you shift as a reflex, causing a burst of heat to ignite in you once again. “What say you to back at the inn?”

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

They did not give me cannonical aphrodisiac usage at witch parties for nothing.

Thank you to @flightlessangelwings for their Kinktober list this year!

[myunconquerablesoul]

CAN I GET A KNIGHT SUKUNA WITH WITCH READER??? A DRABBLE OR. A FIC. AS U WISH.

Until the end.

r.sukuna x fem!reader

Warnings: witch and knight au (or at least I tried.) mentions of a wound and healing, mentions of supernatruals; I think that's it.

Authors note: Thank you for requesting my love. Your wish is my command. Also, this is my first request, and I hope it meets your expectations. Please let me know if you like it. Or even feedback on what I could have done better. Love you all! Enjoy

Wordcount: 1.387

Being a witch is a constant balancing act between good and evil, light and chaos.

If you play your cards right, you can become respected in the six kingdoms, interfering and managing political affairs and playing a central role in military operations against supernatural beasts and fallen ones.

If you miss your chance and let chaos take over your mind, you will forever be nothing more than a marionette to it. Once you've crossed the line, there's no turning back…

With the plague 60 years ago came desperation, and more and more witches and witchers alike turned to chaos, which resulted in many humans serving as experimental objects to spells and potions of forbidden magic and even more villages slaughtered by the results. Humans mutated into supernatural monsters, and some witches and witchers have assimilated with them ever since they were known as fallen ones.

After years of darkness, a powerful witcher finally found the solution to the plague; the only horror left were the children of chaos.

All six kingdoms have made it their mission to eliminate these supernatural beings. Sometimes, they fought as a unit and sometimes alone in their territories. Despite their best efforts and even after working with witches and witches hand in hand, years later, the shadow beings still existed.

The kingdoms consist of Aikailon, Kerean, Khuigon, Nuniel, Zuisha, and Terosa.

Aikalion, Kerean, and Khuigon are the three most powerful and have been forming a coalition for several years. All started under the reign of King Ahap of Aikalion.

Until a few years ago, the Coalition could even eradicate more than half of the monsters, but it also ended abruptly.

Somehow, the supernatural beings were able to take over Terosa and almost completely exterminate the troops of the Coalition through an ambush.

King Ahap survived the battle but never recovered. He became a shell of himself, and the high council decided that his eldest son, Sukuna, should take over. But he never cared about the throne, always felt better as a knight, and ensured that his younger brother Yuji, who had always had a knack for politics, would become king.

Yuji ascended the throne when he was just 18 years old. And his brother, who was three years older, became commander of the army simultaneously.

You became an advisor to Yuji's request. For over 40 years, witches and witchers have been the king's consultants. They support in politics as well as on the battlefield.

After five years, you became familiar with both brothers and somewhat friends.

Sukuna led the Aikalion army to victory in each fight and soon became known as the king of battle and blood. Many feared him and even more respected him. 

Within these years, he managed to get past the borders of Terosa. The land was practically a giant forest.  

You were ordered to participate in this fight alongside Sukuna because of your magical skills. 

As an elemental witch, you could fight in forests the best. Your magic connected to nature allowed the troupe a tactical advantage.

After a month of constant fighting, you found yourself in the commander's tent one night. 

You stood before him between his legs, keeping a steady hand on his shoulder as he sat on the bed.

A gentle glow emits from your palms, a warmth that spreads from your hands and directly onto Sukuna's shoulder.

He has seen the capability of healing a Witch can do.

The glow was bright enough to illuminate the tent, but it was gentle, as soft as the golden rays of a sunset. Sukuna would never tire of seeing you use your magic. 

You could feel his eyes watching you with awe, which made your stomach twist into knots. 

You always look so eternally beautiful to him.

You guided your hand along the wound on his chest, trying to ignore the goosebumps as they rose in your wake.

You barely noticed as he crossed his right hand over his chest and laid his palm against your hands. 

"Thank you," he whispered, his fingers curling around the undersides of your hands until he gently tugged them away. The glow faded until the only light was the burn of the candle at his desk and the reflection of the moon peeking through the tent's opening. 

"Khuigon's army should arrive in a few days," you say absentmindedly. "Hopefully, they bring enough catering with them."

Sukuna hums in agreement as he carefully places his hands on your waist.

In this past month, the tension between you two seemed to grow with every passing moment. He didn't want to let you go, just jet. He wanted to savor the moment a little longer.

It's rare for him to get wounded during a battle, but if it means having you so close to him, then he might even consider getting a little clumsier out there.

His eyes flickered down to your lips briefly, but it was enough. Your heart skipped. 

You honestly just wanted to run away. "Next time, I'm putting a protection spell over you." Sukuna just chuckled at that. "Don't laugh. That was irresponsible of you. I had it under control."

He got wounded because he was trying to protect you. A shadow beast had it out for you; somehow, that monster wasn't as mindless as the rest you've encountered. This could only mean that you were almost at the source of the dark magic.

"I know you did. Never once doubted your abilities. I know firsthand what you are capable of." He was nothing but honest with you. He meant every word. but seeing that thing getting so close to you- he would do it a thousand times more.

You didn't say anything further. You wondered if Sukuna could hear how fast your heart was racing because you were sure it would beat straight out of your chest.

He pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. 

You both stayed like this for a few moments.

This moment might be the last peaceful moment you two will have for a while.

Both of you know that the next battle will bring a lot of death and blood.

Sukuna wishes nothing more than to keep you away from all of this, but this is the life you two have. 

"You know I love you, right?"

It was sudden and unexpected, but it didn't surprise you. What scarred you was the meaning behind these words.

I never wanted to say it like this, but in case we will not survive this- Just that you know. So I can leave this world without any regret.

"Sukuna-"

"You know, right?" Of course, you did. Hell, everyone did. He never failed to show that you were off-limits. His.

And you know that he knows you feel the same.

"I do." your voice was small, but he heard you just fine. It was enough for him. He would never expect you to say-

"You know I love you too, right?" 

As a witch, telling someone that they loved them was like giving them your heart, body, and soul.

They only loved once.

It's something sacred to them.

And yet here you stand before him and let him hear what he desires most. 

He couldn't wait anymore.

The moment his lips touched yours, you lost your breath; fireworks and butterflies, twists in your stomach, and clamoring in your heart.

You could feel his smile spread into his cheeks, your hands seeking more of him as you slid them up the sides of his bare chest. 

He presses his lips against your jawline and smiles against the crook of your neck as you let out a breathy sigh, relishing in the feeling of his lips brushing against your skin.

He pulls away and brings a hand under your chin, eyes gazing into your own before he crashes his lips against yours again.

Your hands splay against his back as he fervently kisses you, his hands pulling you as close as he can.

He groans as he leans in, trying to take in more of you. 

It didn't lead to more that night, other than sharing your feelings for one and another, but you were sure whatever was to come, if it was light or chaos, who'd win the final battle, you would overcome this.

Together.

Until the end.

[sailorkamino]

Cities of Loves

relationships: moon boys x avenger!witch!reader [gender neutral]

summary: From camel rides and stargazing in Cairo, to dinner and sightseeing in Paris, to shopping and visiting the beach in Guatamala City. You love teleporting with your boys.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: referenced animal abuse, aquaphobia, a little suggestive (flirty jake is my weakness), intelligent people are steven's kink

a/n: i'm a little insecure abt this one so i would love to hear your thoughts, i think it feels kind of choppy since i'm trying to tell 3 stories but i hope ya'll still like it! which date is ur favorite?

chaos in us masterlist | moodboard

Steven is the perfect gentleman. He can be a little awkward but also incredibly passionate about his interests. Everything about him is endearing.

“This must be a dream,” Steven mumbles breathlessly beside you. You grin, linking your arm in his and kissing his cheek. “It’s real,” you promise in his ear. His tan skin does nothing to hide the blush on his cheeks. As you get closer to the pyramids it’s hard to ignore the uncomfortable buzz itching under your skin, but the adorable camels are a welcome distraction.

“Can I pet them?” Steven asks excitedly. As soon as the handler nods in approval Steven is scratching the nearest large animal behind its ears, cooing at it lovingly. You decide to focus on the one beside Steven’s, stroking his fuzzy head. “Hey there Babu.”

The tour guide looks at you in confusion, sure he didn’t introduce animals yet. You offer an awkward smile. Steven remains oblivious. “What’s her name?” He asks the handler, referring to the camel he’s petting. You bite your lip before you can answer. 

“Yasmine,” the man says, still looking at you warily. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.” Steven grins. You pout. Wow, you really are jealous of an animal. But as you stroke Babu you’re overcome with contentment, telling you that he's being taken care of. You did research into this tour company but you still wanted to check, you would die before you gave money to animal abusers. Speaking of animals…

“Oh Steven, before I forget,” you speak up, digging in your tote bag. He watches curiously as you pull out some pills. “I read that camel riding will make you sore so you should take some painkillers beforehand.”

The fact that you took time to research your date is incredibly attractive to Steven for some reason. You’re just so brilliant. “You think of everything, don’t you?” He muses as you pull a bottle of water out of the same bag. You grin shepishly. Steven often praises you for little things that most people wouldn’t really care about but he does. It makes you feel special.

“Well I thought sore butts would make stargazing uncomfortable, so…”

He pauses in taking the medicine. “Stargazing?”

The excitement in his voice makes you puff your chest out proudly. “Mhmm. Right by the pyramids.”

He absolutely beams, chocolate eyes lighting up in excitement. Fuck, he’s such a nerd. And you love it. “That sounds amazing,” he compliments before downing the medicine with a swig of water. “Thank you, love.”

The pet name has your heart racing embarrassingly fast. It just sounds so pretty when he says it like that. Maybe you should legally change your name to Love, just so you can hear him say it all the time. You shake off your thoughts, popping a few pills in your mouth and returning them to your tote.

Steven feels a little flustered watching you drink from the same bottle. Something about the intimacy just makes him feel… soft. “Alright, time to start the tour,” the guide announces in accented English. You share one last excited look with Steven before climbing onto your camels.

The internet was right: a few hours on camelback did leave you sore. But it was worth it. You got to watch the sun set behind the Great Pyramids and explore the desert behind the Sphinx. You even got a beautiful candid shot of Steven. He’s looking at the horizon, windswept curls falling in his face, washed in the orange rays of golden hour.

Now that it’s cooled off and the sky has darkened you find yourself lying on a blanket beside Steven. One hand plays with the sand under you, the other’s entangled with your date’s. You point out the constellations to him. He loves listening to you tell the stories behind each one. You’re in the middle of telling him about Ursa Major and Minor when you feel his eyes burning into the side of your face.

You roll your head to the size, meeting his big dark eyes, full of so much care it makes you shy. “What?” You ask. “You’re brilliant,” he sighs lovingly. You freeze for a moment, taken back by the sentiment. Once his words sink in you’re squeezing his hand in yours. “You’re the brilliant one! You taught me how to write my name in hieroglyphics.”

“Yeah you but you know how to read way more ancient languages that I can!”

“Ok, let’s agree that we’re both dorks but we’re hot so it’s okay.”

____

Next week you go on your first date with Marc. He’s quiet initally, the complete opposite of Steven who tends to ramble when he’s shy.

“So, tell me about yourself, Marc. What do you like?”

He looks at his boeuf bourguignon pensivley. You’ve noticed he doesn’t talk about himself much but you’ve always liked a challenge. “This food is pretty great.”

You smirk at his answer. “Fair enough. What do you do when you’re not working?”

He draws his thick eyebrows together in thought. “Between the museum and Khonshu I don’t have much free time.” He quickly takes a sip from his glass, aware of how depressing his answer sounds. “What about you?”

You’re hit with a pang of sympathy. You’re tempted to assault Khonshu again just for taking up all the poor man’s time. You force a gentle smile and tell him more about yourself, hoping it will encourage him to share.

“Can I be honest with you? You seem like a good listener,” you confess, stabbing at your food with a fork. He nods quickly. “Yeah, of course.”

“I learnt from personal experience that if all you do is go from fight to fight you start to feel like a weapon. You have to take care of yourself.” You pause for a moment before sending him a playful look, not wanting to come off lecture-y, "like taking time to go to Paris with an Avenger/super model maybe.”

Your last comment has him cracking a barely three smile, but it's enough for the butterflies in your stomach to throw a damn rave. “Alright. Point taken.”

It’s a few minutes later before he answers your initial question. “I watch TV. But everyone does that so,” he trails off with a shrug. Already dismissive of himself. You perk up, trying to be encouraging as possible.

“Well, what do you like to watch?”

He pauses for a moment before confessing. “Star Wars.”

You don’t say anything yet your eyes sparkle with amusement. “What?” He huffs in annoyance. You shake your head with a snort. “And you call Steven a nerd.” The shocked, bewildered look on his face has you cackling into your incredibly expensive wine.

“I like Star Wars too. You’re just so easy to tease.”

“Am not,” he immediately snaps childishly. You look at him knowingly, silently telling him that he just proved your point. He avoids eye contact with a clenched jaw in what you can only describe as Marc Spector’s version of a pout. You nudge his foot under the table, giggling when he almost jumps out of his chair.

You can’t hold back your grin as you raise your glass. “To us,” you toast. Across from you, Marc’s dark eyes reflect the candle light in an almost hypnotic way. “To us,” he agrees (a bit begrudgingly), clinking your drinks.

You had to carry the conversation at first but as the night goes on, his confidence grows. The banter between you becomes easy. He’s witty, with a much dryer sense of humor than Steven, but he draws giggles from you nonetheless. Once dinner is over he offers you his arm, much to your suprise. You walk into the Parisian night together.

You aren’t shy about admirning your date. He’s beautiful. And the crisp suit he’s donning accentuates his muscles in all the right places. He looks at you curiously. You grin in response. “Just enjoying the view.”

He scoffs but can’t hide the smile tugging on his lips. “That was the worst line ever.”

“I don’t know, you’re still letting me hold your arm so I must be doing something right.”

“Yeah, well that’s because you’re ridiculously attractive. Not because of your dumb pick up lines.”

You stop in your tracks, making him stumble. “You think I’m ridiculously attractive?” You ask with bright eyes. “You know you’re hot,” he deadpans. “Yeah, but I like when you say it,” you chirp. You feel him chuckle against you even though he tries to hide it.

You lean into his solid body, whispering into his ear. “I think you’re hot too.” You watch happily as he shivers. Before he can respond you’re excitedly dragging him into a nearby bakery. Once you get your macaroons you find a park bench in view of the lit up Eiffel Tower.

“It’s beautiful.” He comments, admiring the monument. You raise your eyebrows flirtatiously but he cuts you off before you can speak. “If you say something cheesy like ‘you’re beautiful’ I’m leaving you here. I’ll find my own way back to London.”

You open your mouth, fully prepared to tell him he’s beautiful anyways, when he unceremoniously shoves half a macaroon in your mouth. You splutter in shock for a moment as he cackles. The first time you hear the man laugh and it’s at your expense. You glare at him as you chew on the dessert, resembling an angry chipmunk. With a loving smile he uses his thumb to wipe any crumbs from your lips.

You look at him in shock, heart beating widly, but he just grins boyishly before pulling you against his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, thinking about how much he came out of his shell since the beggining of the date.

“You really are beautiful, you know?” You mumble into his suit. There’s a pause, then his hand goes back to drawing shapes on your hip.

“So are you, baby.”

____

Jake is just as emotionally closed off as Marc, but he’s also incredibly charming when he wants to be. A little more fowards than his alters but you would be lying if you said you didn’t like his constant touches and Spanish compliments.

“These are so pretty,” you praise, looking at the stall of handmade jewelry. “Thank you. You two make a lovely couple,” the old woman replies. You grin as your eyes land on a set of leather cord bracelets, one with a sun charm, one with a moon. You hand her a few more quetzal's than necessary then pick up the matching items.

You turn to Jake, taking his hand in yours. He watches fondly as you slip the sunshine on his wrist, then the crescent on yours. “Moon for me?” He asks smugly. “No. For Khonshu,” you sigh dreamily, watching his reaction. Jake’s eyes widen and you can feel the confusion and jealousy radiating off of him. You can’t help but snicker.

“You’re just as easy to tease as Marc and Steven,” you grin, poking his side. He glares at you but there’s no heat behind it. You take his hand in yours to counter your trek through Chichicastenango.

“So is the sun supposed to be you?” He asks, raising your interlaced fingers to examine the charm. “Yep!” You affirm, popping the p. “Cause I’m the light of your life.”

He snorts at your response. You huff indignantly. “I’ll have you know I am a delight!”

“A delightful pain,” he jokes. You pout but it quickly turns into a smirk. You use your magic to deliver a swift kick to his butt. He stumbles in shock as you laugh loudly.

“Did you do that!?”

“Nooo, the other witch you’re on a date with did it.”

He can’t help but laugh, partly in shock, at your dry response. The husky sound has your stomach fluttering. “I think Marc is rubbing off on you, sunshine.”

“No, I’ve always been a little bit of a bitch,” you shrug casually. “Ooh, tacos!”

Jake lets you lead him to the food stand. And every other stand you want to go to. You thought Jake would be the best to go shopping with since he’s the most blunt but the man is already so whipped for you he can’t help but go along with whatever you want.

He grins as you try on a pair of heart shaped sunglasses, doing kissy faces as you model them. “They look great, corazón.” You pull them down to flash a wink before passing over some quetzal's and moving to the next stall. It doesn’t take long for you to start overheating under the Guatemalan sun.

“Alright time for part two of our date,” you grin, pulling him into an alley. He settles large hands on your waist, licking his lips hungrily. He gently pushes you against a brick wall. You tut, placing a finger on his pink mouth. “Nu uh, mister. We aren’t here for that. We’re here so I can teleport us without drawing attention.”

Before he can pout you’re pulling him through a portal. His eyes widen as he takes in his new sorroundings, the ocean breeze and salty air instantly invading his senses. Then he notices your new attire: a little red bathing suit showing off miles of perfect skin and curves. You look at him teasingly, aware of your effect on him.

“I’m gonna cool off in the water. Wanna come with? I can make you some swimming trunks.”

You can immediately sense Jake’s apprehension, your playful demeanor slipping into something more gentle. “Or we can go for a walk,” you offer. He shakes his head. “No, no, you have fun. I’ll enjoy the view.” You don’t want to leave Jake but you also have a feeling that acknowledging his fear will make him close up. You flash a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand softly. “I’ll only be a minute.”

You can’t help but feel a little guilty as you wade into the cool water. A lot of people are afraid of the ocean, you probably should have consulted him before planning this, but you thought a surprise would be fun. You go until the sea is waist deep, using your hands to cup the water and pour it on your hot shoulders and chest.

Suddenly you sense a familiar presence approaching you. You wait until his apprehensive hands settle on your hips to turn around. You attempt not to drool at his bare torso, all tan, smooth muscle, with a sprinkle of dark hair under his belly button. You try to focus, knowing he needs your comfort.

“You want those trunks now?”

He nods stiffly. You place your hands on his waist, transforming his wet shorts into red swimming trunks that matches your own suit. “That better, isn’t it? How does the water feel?”

His jaw tenses. “Good.”

“You know you don’t have to do this-”

“No. I want to do this,” he looks into your eyes, “with you.”

You grin, cupping his face in your hands. “I’m proud of you.”

His entire face softens, and for a split second you think Steven is fronting. “You are?” He asks so softly you almsot don’t hear it over the waves.

“I am.”

Suddenly he pulls you against him, lips crashing against yours. He’s practically clinging to you for comfort as you stroke his jaw soothingly. You use you powers to soothe the water around you, not wanting anything to spook Jake. For now, he’s all yours.

____

taglist: @jallerentrags @huitzilinthebudgie3 @wintergirlsoilder2 @dreamerkim @jupitersmoon167 @n1ght5h4d3-24 @darkened-writer @sunipostsstuff @bex-tk1 @musicconversedance @nemtodd-barnes1923 @thegotfangirl @your-frenly-emo-rat @dadstarkblacksoul @certifiedhunter @tagakalat @galactic-galabee @yoongiwithglasses @theyaremorethanjustfictional @booksandbenbarnes @faefanatic @ness-is-vanillabean @lovesickollie @kemisuu @missdragon-1 @ristare @jck-r @brekkers-desigirl @irethepotato @1-800-vader @chaoticevilbakugo @fantasy-is-best @7minutes-tomidnight @slytherheign @heyitsaloy @cringerat @mrsspector-grant @iifloweringnightsii @alicetweven @michaelfuckinglangdon @hallecarey1 @netto-riley @0ctobersharks @d4td7ewmachine @sgt-morgan @grindeldorefanatic @thepurpleaccount @mul-pi @curvybihufflepuff @sammi-doll483

a/n #2: if ur highlighted i couldn't tag u for some reason :/ if u wanna be added pls comment on the series masterlist so i can keep all the requests in one place <3

[pinchofhoney]

Hiii, could I please request post-azkaban sirius x reader while they're staying in Grimmauld Place, the reader is an Auror and is part of the Order of the Phoenix and comes home from working all day to find Sirius drunk and depressed. Thank you!

𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

post-azkaban!sirius black x auror!reader

world count: 1.8k

warning: no use of y/n, fluffy angst, hurt/comfort, loss of hope, mention of drinking alcohol, slight signs of depression

summary: Maybe there are wounds that prove resistant to the time.

a/n: hello, and thank you for your lovely request! i hope you will be satisfied with what i have written for you!!<33

taglist: @wolfmoonmusic @lonelywitchv2 @alexxavicry

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

"Bye, Aidan. I'll see you tomorrow," you smiled kindly at your coworker and adjusting your bag, which had slipped off your shoulder, you started down one of the corridors in the Ministry of Magic.

Walking away from your office door, a tired sigh escaped your lungs. Being an auror had always been the realization of your biggest dreams, but today marked one of the worst days in your entire career.

The day began with a jarring summons from the Ministry's emergency line. A sorcerer, suspected to be a Death Eater, had resurfaced with a newfound malevolence. Dispatches arrived, delivering grim news of a series of brutal attacks in a one of the small wizarding village. And of coures, as one of the seasoned aurors leading the brigade, the mantle of responsibility to untangle this dark puzzle was firmly draped across your shoulders.

Arriving at the village, you were met with scenes of devastation that could make even the bravest witch or wizard falter. The ominous insignia of the malevolent magician was etched indelibly onto the slate-gray sky, casting an eerie luminescence over the vicinity. The villagers were visibly scarred, bearing not only the physical aftermath of the onslaught, but also the emotional wounds inflicted. Hours were spent meticulously extracting tales from shaken witnesses, weaving their stories into a tapestry of dread. The narratives were harrowing – curses and hexes had been hurled with a chilling precision, leaving a trail of chaos in their wake.

The physical remnants found at the scenes of the crimes painted an equally distressing picture. It was abundantly clear that the wizard had honed their craft, preparing a deadly amalgamation of spells that left victims scant chances for survival. The results of these assaults lingered in your thoughts, each grim picture etching itself into your mind as an unrelenting reminder of the horrors this dark conjurer could unleash.

Yet, the challenges presented were far from over. The Death Eater seemed perpetually a step ahead, expertly setting snares and diversions to obstruct your progress. The dynamic transformed into a vexing and exhausting chase, where each lead seemed destined to culminate in a frustrating impasse.

As the day marched onward, the strain on your team became increasingly tangible. Tensions escalated, nerves grew taut, and the fervor to apprehend the wizard intensified. Your team pressed forward, unwavering in their determination, even in the face of the adversary's guile and potency. A mounting sense of desperation took root, fueled by the fervent desire to deliver justice to the afflicted and bring an end to the grip of terror.

And now, the weariness that had been slowly encroaching had deepened into a bone-deep fatigue. The lack of headway and the emotional toll of the day weighed heavily on your spirit. With steps heavy, you navigated the halls of the Ministry toward the exit, your stomach's protestations reminding you of your hunger. Breakfast had been but a fleeting memory, enhancing the anticipation of a shared dinner with Sirius in the comforts of your Grimmauld Place abode.

The thought of recounting your day to him, knowing he'd offer comforting words, wrap his arm around you, and gently press a kiss to your forehead—reassuring you that tomorrow will hold the promise of progress—made you feel impatient.

Since Sirius's managed to escape from the nightmarish walls of Azkaban, you both became inseparable allies, always ready to lend each other a hand. Well, mostly it was your role to help him. His grim tenure within the prison had inflicted wounds far deeper than the physical; the bars and Dementors had taken a heavy toll on his mental strength.

The scars left by Azkaban's haunting existence marked him in ways that went beyond the surface. The ceaseless shadows cast by the Dementors had gnawed at his spirit, causing wounds that cut to the core of his mind. The years of isolation had turned his thoughts into a maze of torment, an unending cycle of despair that seemed insurmountable. His own thoughts, compounded by the Dementors' soul-draining presence, had eroded his sense of self and purpose.

After his release, returning to the world was like an awakening filled with confusion. The noise of life's complexities clashed with the monotony of his prison life, leaving him adrift amidst a sea of overwhelming emotions. It was as though he was trying to put together a puzzle with many pieces missing—confused, fragmented, and unsure.

Your warm companionship offered a lifeline, a connection to reality that he desperately needed. Your constant presence gradually broke down the walls of solitude he had built within himself. After all, you were someone he knew as well as he knew himself—his love from long ago, from his school years, and your paths reconnected by complete coincidence. Through patience, empathy, and countless conversations, you helped him slowly navigate the turbulent waters of life after Azkaban. You became the guiding light that led him through the maze of his fears, showing him that life still held moments of beauty and purpose worth cherishing.

Day by day, moment by moment, you were there to listen, to comfort, and to remind him of his intrinsic worth. The scars left by the prison might have been permanent, but your unwavering support had a way of easing the pain and helping him rediscover the parts of himself that he believed were lost forever.

Stepping out onto a gray London street, you took a look around, briefly studying the faces of people as they passed by. Sharing a smile with a stranger in a coat who met your gaze, you turned in the direction of the flat. On your way, you made a quick stop at a nearby shop, procuring an assortment of snacks for a leisurely evening shared with Sirius, and as the tune of your favorite melody danced on your lips, you headed towards Grimmauld Place.

Upon entering, the familiar scent of dust enveloped you, and an unusual hush pervaded the space—a silence rarely encountered in this residence. Not even the creaking of the wooden floor beneath the begrudging feet of Kreacher reached your ears. Lowering your shopping onto the floor, you shed your damp coat, which had captured the essence of London's air, and, retrieving the bag once more, ventured deeper into the depths of the Black's house.

“Sirius?” you called out as you proceeded down the corridor, your voice carrying a note of hopeful expectation. Yet, the silence that answered was deafening, and a sense of concern began to creep into your thoughts. He was meant to be waiting for you at home.

Curiosity propelling you forward, you navigated the dimly lit spaces, the house seemingly holding its breath. Eventually, your steps led you to the kitchen, where you found him. He was sitting by the table, like a solitary figure amidst the shadows, his gaze fixed emptily on a distant point with a glass of alcohol in his hand.

“Sirius?” you addressed him once again, this time softly, your voice infused with a mix of tenderness and apprehension. As you drew closer, you noticed the distant look in his eyes, a reflection of a mind caught in the grips of haunting memories. The weight of his past seemed to hang heavily upon him, leaving his usually vibrant spirit, that you were familiar with, dimmed and worn.

With a sigh that carried a hint of sorrow, you reached out to touch his arm gently. “Are you alright?” The question was simple, but it held layers of understanding, a recognition of the battles he fought within himself.

He turned to you, his eyes finally focusing on your presence, and a fleeting smile graced his lips, though it was faint, like a star struggling to shine through the clouds. “I... I just had a rough day,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a mixture of exhaustion and vulnerability.

Stepping closer, you closed the physical distance between you sitting next to him, your concern palpable. “Are these voices returning again?” you asked softly, already knowing the answer. Azkaban had left scars that ran deep, and there were moments when those scars resurfaced with a vengeance, tormenting him with the worst moments of his past.

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the glass in his hand. “Yeah. They... they were louder today, more vivid.” His admission was accompanied by a sigh, a sigh that carried the weight of the pain he couldn't quite put into words.

Gently, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his. “You don't have to go through this alone anymore, you know,” you said, your voice unwavering. “I'm here for you.”

A mixture of emotions flickered in his eyes – gratitude, relief, and a lingering hint of the darkness that still clung to him. With a shaky exhale, he set the glass down on the table, his hand finding its place in yours, seeking the connection that grounded him.

“I just... I didn't know how to cope today,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. “The memories were too much, and I thought... I thought maybe alcohol could numb them, even if just for a little while.”

You squeezed his hand gently, your heart aching for the pain he carried. “I understand, Sirius. But you don't have to face this alone, and you definitely don't have to numb the pain with alcohol.” Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, a gesture of comfort and reassurance. “We'll face this together, okay? I bought some snacks, we will cook dinner, as we planned, yeah?”

For a moment, he simply looked at you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. Then, as if finally allowing himself to let go of the burden he'd been carrying, he nodded. “Yes, alright.”

The faintest of smiles tugged at the corners of his lips, a testament to the strength he drew from your presence. With a deep breath, he let go of the glass, leaving behind the fleeting comfort it provided. Your touch, your words – they were the lifeline he needed more than anything else in that moment.

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze once again before letting go, your fingers interlacing for just a brief moment. Then, with a small grin, you stepped back, your resolve unwavering. “Great. Let's start with dinner then. I got all our favorites.”

A spark of interest ignited in his eyes, a flicker of the Sirius you knew and loved. “All our favorites, huh? You spoil me, you know that?”

You chuckled softly, the sound carrying a touch of playfulness. “Well, someone's got to take care of you, right?”

With a playful wink, you turned towards the direction of the kitchen, beckoning him to join you. “Now, let's see if we can create a masterpiece out of these.”

[leezlelatch]

Copia x Female Reader: The White Suit (Ft. Portobello)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI

Copa pulls down his suit jacket and smooths back his hair, shaking his hands in front of him for a moment, and flexing his fingers as he breaths out slowly. Reaching forward, he opens his door, peaking around it to confirm that yes, it is you, looking ever so lovely, before swinging the door open all the way, his hand not grasping the wood for dear life raising, arm outstretched as if to say, "ta-da!"

"Hello, Cardinal!" You greet with a sweet smile, hands clasped in front of you.

You haven't seen each other outside of usual Ministry dealings since the incident in the kitchen, and concerned about little big Portobello, you caught the Cardinal after mass one evening to inquire about Portobello's health. To your surprise and delight, Cardinal Copia invited you to visit Portobello in the "infirmary."

Little did you know, Copia has been positively fretting ever since the hastily spilled words had left his mouth. What would you think of his rooms? Of being alone with him? Was he too forward? All of these thoughts are dashed out of his head and replaced with a pleasant buzzing the moment you greet him in that quiet, excited manner which dances around his heart and makes him think, at least for a moment, that you came to see Copia himself.

"Sister!" He exclaims, realizing he has been staring at you for a moment too long. "Come in, come in!"

Waving you forward, you pass him, arm nearly brushing his as the deep, heady aroma of his cologne wraps you in a warm hug and darkens your cheeks with a captivated blush.

In all the hundred ways you imagined his rooms, you are surprised and simultaneously unsurprised. Your eyes are immediately greeted by his desk, papers strewn across it, books precariously stacked and nearly toppling off the edge. A dark oak bookcase stands against the wall in the small space beside it, several different Latin texts shining out at you. His work space is chaos, and yet you are sure that if Copia requires a specific document, he can merely walk over and find it immediately. An organized chaos, perhaps.

The wall above his desk proudly displays Francisco de Goya's Witches' Sabbath, a piece you are easily and quickly mystified by.

"Are you familiar?" Copia inquires, his head tilts as he takes in your expression. His thumb and forefinger dance in a circle against the leather of his glove. He is not used to someone analyzing his space.

"Oh, yes!" You turn toward him, smiling and dropping your eyes from his intense gaze. "I've always enjoyed de Goya," you add quietly.

He nods good naturedly, pleased and impressed, and a long silence trails off between the two of you as Copia wills his rapidly beating heart to calm down, and you wring your hands in front of you, desperately wishing you weren't so awkward in front of the man.

"Would you like to-"

"Is Portobello-"

You speak at the same time, startling the both of you into nervous laughter. You take a step back as if to reground yourself and nearly trip over the small couch that also occupies the crowded entry room. Copia reaches out a hand to steady you, his touch sending little electric currents right into your heart, butterflies quickly taking flight in your belly.

"Falling for me already, Sister?" He quips, that stage persona slipping out for just a moment before his eyes widen and a blush erupts between the gentle freckles that powder his cheeks.

"Easy to do," you say back, your words catching in your throat.

Easy, indeed.

Copia's thumb gently passes over the skin of your hand as he lets go, his eyes gazing so deeply, tenderly into yours. There's a softness to his white eye that you do not expect, trailed on you so intently as it is. It isn't frightening or off-putting, sinister or strange, it is merely Copia. And you are finding, very quickly, that Cardinal Copa is the loveliest thing that you have ever seen.

"Our little invalid is right through here," he finally says, gesturing through another entryway.

You pass through to what you assume is his bedroom. A trundle bed is pushed against the far wall, covered in a simple grey comforter, blue pillow resting on top. There's a chair in the corner by the head of his bed that looks like it was taken straight out of a hotel room, and a long shelved table stretches across the wall closest to the doorway, full of candles, a record player, and other odds and ends.

You walk further into the room, drawn to the squeaking cages that sit reverently between the end of his bed and a small wardrobe. The cages are meticulously clean, full of very fine bedding and plenty of fun items for enrichment. Their water bottles and food dishes are full, and while a few little friends happily nibble away, some snooze quietly together in a corner or inside a brilliant replica of the Ministry. Overall, these babies are well taken care of.

You turn in delight back to Copia, but stop dead at the absolute mess of clothing he has piled on a couch near the door.

"Spring cleaning?" You giggle, watching in amusement as Copia hastily moves in front of the couch as if he can shield the mess with his body.

"Shit!" He curses, before waving his hands in front of himself in apology. "You know, eh, too many clothes, small space. My keep pile might be a little too big, but..." Copia trails off, embarrassed.

You hardly pay attention as your eyes fall on the small pile you assume is the "throw" pile. Walking quickly forward, your fingers grip the edge of the white jacket, your body shivering at the feeling of the snakeskin against your fingertips. His white trousers lie folded beneath it, taunting you.

"Copia," you say very seriously, all decorum thrown out the window. You notice him start slightly next to you at the sound of his name. "You can't throw this away."

Copia gives you a confused look, his eyes locked on the way you hold the white jacket close to your chest.

"I only wore it that one time so far, and I don't know...might be a little too revealing, huh?" He says, patting his belly. "You know what too much rigatoni does to you?"

You nearly gape at him. The man is completely oblivious. You are rather charmed by the way his suits cling to his figure, but this has everything to do with something a little below the belt. You may yet earn the title of Sister of Sin.

"But it's the white suit," you say slowly.

"I have a black one," Copia holds out his arms to punctuate the fact that he's wearing it. "And a red one. I was thinking of getting something new, maybe in blue..." He trails off at your expression.

"You just can't throw this away," you continue.

"Why?" He finally says, ever more confused.

"Because...I like it." You huff out a breath, gazing down at the white material in your hands with a vibrant blush. "I mean, everyone likes it...it's very....nice."

Copia watches the way your fingers bunch the material, the way your lips part as you shudder out a breath, the way your blush heats the skin of your neck and travels further. He's entirely struck dumb by your confession. You wanted him to keep the white suit because you like it. Because you like him in it. His quiet, blushing sister who saved a rat and smiles at him thinks he's attractive.

Copia's hands clench at his sides for a moment before he takes very careful steps toward you. Reaching out, he plucks the suit jacket from your hands and waits very patiently for your gaze to return to his. Your entrancing, pretty eyes are wide as they meet his, and he smiles at you with half-lidded eyes, sudden confidence powering his body and actions.

"I shall keep that in mind," he says softly, grabbing the trousers as well and depositing them in the "keep" pile.

"You might need it again...," you nearly whisper, heart pounding in your ears.

"Yes," Copia nods. "I think I will."

The Cardinal steps even closer, delighting with feral intensity as you let out a small noise from his proximity. Your pupils dilate as you return his gaze shyly, another tell that you are entirely effected by him. There is a time for nervous, awkward Copia, and there is a time for the Cardinal. And in just a few words, you brought him out. The Cardinal has thought about you with frequency since your midnight meeting in the kitchen, and having you here in his room causes a plethora of images to sweep across his mind.

"May I see Portobello?" You finally breathe in the intense silence.

Copia pulls back, and shakes his head slightly. No, now was not the time. His Sorella deserves to be courted, treated well and gently. The Cardinal would have to be content to wait.

"Of course," he smiles, placing a hand at the small of your back to guide you to one of the cages.

The very big rat snuggles into a blanket that has little ratties embroidered on the fabric. You wonder briefly if Copia made it himself, the stitching a little messy, but sweet. Grinning at the man, you turn and move closer to the cage, kneeling down a little so you're eye level with the snoozing rodent. You gasp in surprise at the small splint wrapped around his leg, a mish mash of splinting material, broken popsicle sticks with the edges rubbed smooth, and medical tape.

"Oh, sweet baby," you coo into the cage. Portobello looks up at you as if he recognizes your voice, sniffing at the air.

Copia kneels down beside you, an enraptured expression on his face as he watches you speak so warmly to his patient. You smile over at him, momentarily caught up in the loveliness of his gaze.

"I just adore him," you say softly. "All of them, they're so cute. You care so much for them, I think Portobello will make a quick recovery."

Catching your hand in one of his, Copia's eyes shine as he says, "Non hai idea di quanto questo significhi per me."

You don't understand, yet the sentiment is there, and you smile back at Copia, squeezing his hand.

You spend over an hour in his rooms, chatting, laughing, and holding your big baby rat. When it's time to go, you blow kisses at Portobello's cage, hearing Copia's quiet chuckle behind you. He guides you to his door, hand at the small of your back as he is quickly becoming wont to do.

"You know," he begins as you stand in his doorway. "You can come see him anytime you want. Or...I could bring him to you. He might like a change of scenery, huh?"

"Really!?" You gasp, excited.

"I think he likes you more than me," Copia grins crookedly. I like you, he says internally.

Leaning against the doorway, you glance down at the floor, suddenly shy again. Breathing out, you look back up at Cardinal Copia, watching as the candlelight from the hallway bounces across his features.

"I enjoyed spending time with you," you say. "Tonight was...very nice."

"Cara," Copia breathes out as if he's been holding onto it for a while. His voice is soft, reverent. "If I could spend every night half as lovely as this one, I would be a lucky man."

How many times can you blush this evening? Playing with your fingers as you smile, you say, "Goodnight, Copia."

"Bye-bye, cara. Goodnight. Take care! Sleep well!" He waves you down the hall, still there as you look back with each step taking you further from your Cardinal.

You cannot wait for next time.

[feyofmay]

The Righthand Man

Laurie x March!Reader Summary: Assisting in making the costumes for Jo's upcoming show, Y/N, who is love with Laurie, is forced to spend time with Laurie, who is in love with Jo. Angst ensues. word count: 2.8k Warnings: Fluffffffffff, all platonic, angst, reader gets called "Ducky"

This story is a snippet from my longer Laurie x reader story, Foolish, Honest Love on ao3.

Also, I am taking requests for Laurie x reader drabbles/minifics in my asks!!! :)

STORY STARTS UNDER THE PAGE BREAK

A trickle of syrupy scarlet begins to pool and form a bubble on the tip of the young girl’s finger. However, the sight of blood does not squeeze even a squeal out of her. Rather, all she does is sigh and place the finger between her lips. Between her lips, a row of pins rest beside her finger like a line of spiked fences, a warning to wandering souls. With her free hand, she guides the loose fabric to curl around her waist. 

“I must be the prettiest. I am the princess,” her younger sister declares like true royalty as she remains still under the middle March’s touch. Humming in agreement, she pulls her finger from her lips and leads the needle down a familiar trail. Although the house is always a little bit of a mess, in the most recent days it has grown into a beast of its own. Pieces of fabric are strung about everywhere, and loose pages of noted and edited scripts cover the floor as a gray and white layer of snow in autumn. A sheen of dust and the stink of old paper and musty fabric smothers in the autumn air. Without a knock, a boy enters, carrying the autumn breeze on the edges of his footsteps. Lost in her work, the middle March doesn’t pay any mind to anything outside of the glimmer of her needle as she works to avoid the wrath of her younger sister. If the needle is to even brush against her skin, the younger March will inform the whole neighborhood of the atrocity her sister has committed. Adorning a heather gray wool skirt, of which some other sisters have surely worn in seasons past, her heather purple bolero pinches around her collar and floats over her white collar shirt and black bodice. 

“I’m sure you will-” She begins, speaking around the pins in her mouth.

“Ducky, how’s the costume coming along?”

“- be. Just don’t paint the fabric without asking me first again,” Ducky continues while their older sister speaks around her. Like a knight in battle, the eldest of the three forces through the chaos of their home.

“Jo, you better have removed the part where I have to kiss a toad!” the youngest of the present sisters yells out to Jo. Ducky places her palm against the youngest’s stomach as a way to calm her and tell her to refrain from moving.

“Amy, you have to stay still, or I’ll poke you,” Ducky reminds her before returning to sewing the draping robin blue fabric. All of their conversation overlaps and forms a symphony of dissonant harmonies.

“I’m nearly finished with Amy’s, and all I have of Meg’s is final fittings, she’s putting hers on right now -” Ducky begins as she begins looping the thread into itself, forming a knot. 

“Perfect, we’re just behind schedule!” Jo continues her own tangent while she stations herself besides Ducky and begins to digest Amy's appearance.

“- and then all I have left is to make your jacket, and figure out Laurie’s ensemble, and I’m unsure what you want for me, regarding ‘my part’ in the show, itself,” Ducky trails off as she picks up her scissors and frees her needle from the taut thread caught in the knot of Amy’s dress. A heap of  tulle the color of a robin’s egg and a mellow baby blue silk cascade from underneath her beaded white bodice like a waterfall. Hours and hours have been spent on beading the bodice, alone, and, with sweat, time, and a minimal amount of blood, the middle March has managed to piece together the costumes for Jo’s newest and best show. 

“You’re going to be the wise old witch who lives in the forest -” Jo starts to fall into her tangent as she waves her hands. In her right hand, the newest version of her script resides.

“I’m only acting because Marmee’s done getting involved in your shows,” Ducky confirms.

“- Well, yes, but that doesn’t make your role any less important,” Jo reminds her as Ducky rises to her feet and brushes off her skirt. Blood rushes into her legs and feeling finally slips back into her feet after sitting for hours on the rickety wooden stool. As the teen boy discards his jacket, Jo is alerted of his presence and her attention shoots over to him. Rushing over to him, her arms shoot out to greet him. 

“Teddy!” Jo shouts when she’s engulfed in a hug. The two prattle on in a quick back and forth of banter and quips, and Amy waddles off to the mirror so she can properly admire herself. Leaving Ducky all by her lonesome, she sets down the pins between her lips and straightens up her makeshift sewing station. As she collects the spools of thread that had attempted to escape the nest of odd bobbins and spools of an assortment of colors of thread, she can't prevent her eyes from glancing over at the teen boy who’s attempting to swallow Jo in a hug. While she’s too young to wade deeper into her own emotions, she’s perturbed by the small pest named Envy that nips at the walls of heart. She’s not mad, not angry at either her sister or the boy, but she wants to be hugged like that. She wants to be seen & touched with the same feeling of “I feel you, and, therefore, I know you”. For a brief moment, the stories of far fetched courtship and romance are a faint taste on the tip of her tongue, real and tangy. Seeing her younger sister and being old enough to swim in the depths of her own feelings, the eldest March strolls over as a wreath of wisdom hangs around her head. With a knowing gaze and sturdy smile, she bends down so her lips are the same height as Ducky’s ear.

“Do you think he’s handsome?” she whispers to her younger sister as her words bubble up into a giggle. Ducky’s head shoots around to look at her older sister. A similar shade of red to the wound on her finger soaks into her entire face. Her nails dig into her palms, and her chest shutters from the pounding of her heart.

“Shut it, Meg!” she mutters out while gathering the last bobbins and placing them back into the small heap of thread. Laughing over the embarrassment of a young lover, Meg presses a hand against Ducky’s shoulder before gliding over to assist in admiring Amy’s dress by the mirror.

“Ducky, what have you planned for the right hand man to the hero, the protagonist, of my tale?” Jo enthuses as she rushes over to the younger sister’s station. Scooping up a pile of concepts and measurements all messily scrawled across different sheets of paper in looping, unfocused handwriting, the middle March digs through the loose scraps of paper until pulling out several ideas all scribbled on with a stick of graphite and colored pencils. Jo leans over to peer at the drawn figures, and the teen boy mirrors her movements. Sketched onto the paper in coagulating shapes, a drawing of a man clad in a puffy nectarine orange jacket in gold trim and forest green waistcoat dawns the garments over a pair of orange slacks in a matching shade and white high collar shirt with a forest green and orange striped cravat. 

“Perhaps the costume will make up for the fact that you can’t act,” Jo quips out as the two gaze at the young girl’s sketches. Teddy whips his head around to glare at the elder sister as she begins to leap away. Never does Jo simply “walk”, rather, her spirits carry the heels of her weathered leather boots just an inch above the physical Earth. To Ducky, Jo is beyond what any human can promise to be. After all, no mere human of flesh and blood could survive carrying the weight of tenacity and creativity like her sister does. Jo flings her body around and contorts it like a hanging rag left to dry in the wind, and the taupe skirt of her dress wrings her as she flips around to face Teddy.

“You wound me so,” he replies with a filling smile. Jo’s hand flies up to smack Teddy’s forearm. 

“Good, make use of that anguish in scene fourteen,” Jo quickly snips back as she starts to float away with the spirit of genius, her true paramore, “Now, stand here and do whatever Ducky tells you to do without any complaint.”

“What if she stabs me?” Laurie whines while he finds his place where Amy had recently stood before him. 

“I don’t want to hear any of it! You most likely deserve it, anyways,” Jo declares before rushing away to join her two other sisters by the mirror. A squeal of delight leaves Amy’s lips as she scampers away, chasing a distant thought that rattles around in her head.

“I’ll paint my shoes to match!” Amy giggles as she rushes off, leaving the two other sisters to follow her in quick pursuit. With a small smile, Ducky attempts to silently apologize for her sisters’ behaviors.

“Never a dull moment, eh?” Teddy eases her with a knowing glance, and she shares the look while flipping to a blank page in her notepad. Grabbing her measuring tape from around her neck, the middle March brushes back a few strands of hair that had escaped from her makeshift updo, kept together only by a single piece of loose, pale pink ribbon. Lightly gripping his forearms, her fingers sink into the billowing fabric of his watery gray shirt. 

“I’ll need to take your measurements. If I touch you in any way that’s discomforting, let me know,” she explains to him as she guides his arms up to extend out like a child’s when they’re pretending to be an airplane. The tips of his fingers brush against the fading cream and pink flowers that orner the sage green background of the wallpaper that, over the past years, has been dented and scraped from calloused yet tender fingers of youth. Nodding in reply, he stands stalk still as she wraps the measuring tape around his arm before jotting down the measurements in her small notebook. 

“Jo told me that you're some sort of expert seamstress,” Laurie informs her, speaking to try and swallow the silence that the two of them are sinking in. As the tips of her fingers brush against his, a pursed smile tucks itself into her lips. 

“I’m nothing close to that, but I do sew,” Ducky corrects him while she slips the tape around his neck, continuing her work. 

“Is that your big dream? Jo will be a writer, Meg will act, Amy will paint and Beth plays, and you’ll sew?” he asks with a sense of genuine inquisitiveness, tilting his head back as she leans in to better see the faded numbers, leaving about a hand’s width of space between his face and hers. However, as she’s consumed by her work, she isn’t sent awry by the lack of distance between the two. Whispering the measurement to herself, she ushers back to her notepad and copies down the digits, pausing from the conversation to focus on her craft. 

“No, no, that’s Jo’s dream for me,” she admits while shuffling to loop the tape around his bust. 

“Well then, what will you be?” Laurie continues as he raises his hands above his head to allow Ducky to reach around him comfortably. She pauses for a moment, both engulfed in her work and unsure how to answer his question. Tendrils of sunlight begin poking through the window as the sky starts to fade to a rusty hue. 

“I’m not quite sure,” she begins as she turns to copy more digits before adjusting the tape to next measure his hips, “Far. Free, not depending on any man to live how I want to.” Listing off her floating aspirations, Teddy gazes down and watches her precise fingers whisper a secret against the rippling powder blue, silk fabric of his waistcoat.

“What about you? What’s your dream?” she swings the question back to him, and he’s slightly taken aback by her forwardness. Often entranced by Jo and her wild acclaims of the future, he’s yet to think about what it is that he wants. Pursing his lips, the boy considers several archived visions of an ideal future that he’s contemplated in the past. 

“Well, I want to marry a woman. I want to spend my days free from tutoring, content to do whatever I please whenever I’d please. Maybe I’d settle down and put my musical talents to some use, as they’re the only talents my grandfather thinks has worth,” Teddy admits, and, as he discusses his aspirations for his future, a dull ache washes over Ducky, and she’s faced with an answer that’s unfamiliar to her. When her sisters are faced with the question “what do you dream?” every single one of them has a secret truth that is inlaid in the very foundation of their mind. They dream of safety. Of a home that is good enough, and a husband that is kind enough. Of a life that is fulfilling enough. They dream of the brink of enough, of simply a little more than bearable. A man can dream of happiness, but a woman only hopes for enough. Only has Jo honestly strayed from this path, as even Amy, with age, begins to share the three other March’s mindset. Jo continues to strive for greatness, and Ducky can do nothing but admire her for it.

“I sincerely pray for a safe and speedy recovery to any woman who falls for your ‘charms’,” Ducky retorts, and, for a second, her own tone reminds her greatly of Meg. The eldest sister always spoke with a sense of grace and intellect that Ducky found surreal. How could one speak like a bubbling brook flows? For a moment, as the words dribble out from her lips, Ducky is filled with the same rush of ease that she often feels when Meg is teasing Jo. As if called on by a greater divinity, just as Ducky finishes her measurements, Jo and Meg rush back over, with Meg sporting a new, oily black mustache painted onto her face. 

“Teddy, come quickly,” Jo commands to her companion, snatching his arm and dragging him along before he has time to digest her words. There’s no goodbye or reply as he follows behind Jo like a puppy on her heel. As he’s hurried away, Ducky’s eyes linger on his stumbling frame as the timid smile from her lips falls. The middle March begins to curl into herself as the eldest ushers across the dining, over to her sister. Meg rests her cheek against the side of Ducky’s head as, with her embrace, she shields Ducky from the world’s eye. 

“Ducky, tell me plainly and you mustn't lie. Do you fancy him, Teddy?” she asks her younger sister, but both of them already know the answer without speaking. Closing her notepad, Ducky doesn’t even glance up at her sister as she presses her weight into her older sister’s frame. The younger March curls up into her sister’s embrace and folds herself into the young girl that used to hide in Meg’s nightgowns as shrieking thunderstorms raged through the night.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. He’s already in love with Jo,” she mutters into her sister’s chest as she wallows and wades in her own misery. Of course he loves Jo, who couldn’t fall in love with Jo? When she’s basking in the light of her own flowing talent and erudition, everyone falls in love with her. Jo is everything every mother never wants her daughter to be, and, in that right, she is what every mother prays her daughter becomes. She has never changed and, yet, is constantly born anew with each day. Never a lady, but yet an adult, wise yet naive to the weight of the world, everybody is in love with Jo, and this love holds no romantic intention. Rather, it is a deep well of devotion to a person that fills a lover’s stomach and renders one completely whole. To love someone entirely is to find peace within yourself and be content with one’s nature when in the presence of the one you love. So, in this manner, Ducky is entirely in love with Jo.

“It matters a great deal to me how you feel,” her older sister reminds her while strands of Ducky’s hair begin to curl around and hug Meg’s finger, “I’ll always want to hear about your feelings, no matter how large or pointless they may seem.” Silently, the two of them bask in each other’s embrace, and, without a word, Ducky knows her older sister understands her emotions inside & out. In her arms, she feels protected from everything, come snow or hail. In her arms, she is safe to be a young, scared girl.

Please comment & repost, & check out the whole fic :)). If you want me to add u to a taglist, lmk, & please send any laurie x reader drabble/fic requests my way!! I'd love to hear y'alls ideas! Have a lovely rest of your day, friends! &lt;3

[starry-eyesanddaydreams]

Prompt 15 of @deepperplexity 's Rickmas2023 prompts

December 15: Coal and Cards

Sinclair Bryant x Reader

You've recently moved to the outer suburbs of London and run into a beautiful, sweet, talkative man.

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Maybe you had gone a little bit overboard, you thought as you balanced the bags in your arms. But in your defence, you loved Christmas. And the stores along the high street of the town you’d recently moved to had so many beautiful holiday things. So now you were balancing two paper shopping bags of last-minute gifts, decorations and the ingredients for gingerbread cookies, along with a bag of coal. Your new flat had a cute potbelly stove in one corner that was in working order and you couldn’t wait to get it fired up and making your flat nice and cozy. It had snowed the night before, covering the street and sidewalks in beautiful white coat. But while it looked lovely, it made walking a bit perilous, as you soon found out as your foot skidded on an icier patch of snow and you felt yourself starting to topple. On instinct, you dropped the bad of coal in one arm and grabbed hold of the nearest thing available, a streetlight, which stopped you hiding the ground. Getting your bearings back, you saw that a few items had fallen from one of your shopping bags and bobbed down, setting the bags on the ground and collecting the fallen pieces. “Are you okay?” You heard a deep voice ask. You looked up and saw a man who had bobbed down in front of you. Your breath caught in your chest at the sight of him. He had warm hazel eyes, strong features and fluffy blond hair that fell across his brow. The most uniquely handsome man you’d ever seen. “Um, yeah,” you blinked, “I’m fine. Just slipped a little.” “Do you want some help with these? It looks heavy.” He asked, picking up the last piece of your fallen shopping and handing it back to you. “Actually, that would be very nice. My eyes were a bit more than my arms could handle.” You laughed and he smiled in return. He had a beautiful, bright smile. The man picked up on of the shopping bags and the coal bag in each arm and stood. You grabbed the last bag with your baking supplies and stood too. “Thank you for helping me.” You said, “I’m y/n.” “Sinclar Bryant. And it’s my pleasure. Where were you headed?” “Oh, my flat, it’s just at the end of the street.”

You and Sinclar headed down the street, taking their time navigating the snow-covered path. “Have you been living here long?” He asked. “Actually, I just moved in a few weeks ago. I used to live in London and needed a change of scene. It’s so lovely and peaceful out here.” “It is. I work in London. Living out here is a wonderful break from the chaos. You walked quietly for a few moments before Sinclar glanced at the bag he was carrying. Sitting on top was a packet of hand painted Christmas cards. “Did you know Christmas cards were invented by a man who had too many friends to write too?” “No, I didn’t know that.” Sinclar hummed and kept talking, almost absent mindedly, “Henry Cole in 1843. The new penny post system meant a lot more people could send letters and he got so many Christmas letters he couldn’t answer them all properly. And in those days it was considered very bad manners not to answer mail. He worked out an idea with an artist friend, JC Horsely, to design a card with pictures of a family celebrating Christmas and helping the poor. He printed a thousand of them to send out to people. Over time, others started copying his idea and it became fashion to send Christmas cards.” You looked up at him, perplexed by the sudden history lesson but also finding the way he spoke endearing.

Sinclar’ train of thought apparently drifted to the other bundle in his arms and he continued, “You know in Italy, they have the tradition of a Christmas witch called La Befana. Legend is she tried to follow the three wise men to find the baby Jesus, but couldn’t find them, so she gave out her gifts to good children and gave lumps of coal to the bad ones. Today the give out sweets that look loke coal called Carbone Dolce as a joke instead.” Sinclar looked at you and saw your expression, a mix of confusion and amusement, and he blushed slightly, “I’m sorry, I have a habit of talking too much. I apologise if it’s annoying you.” Something in his eyes as he said that tugged at your heart. “You’re not.” You assured him, “It’s actually very charming. And interesting, I didn’t know either of those stories? A Christmas witch? It sounds fun.” Sinclair smiled again and the two of you kept talking more as you walked, first about random Christmas traditions and then about the town. He’s been living there a few years now and you were happy to hear his recommendations about the areas shops and events.

Sinclair felt happier than he’d felt in a long time right now. You were clever and curious. Talking with you was so easy. You’re smile was beautiful and your eyes were so warm and gentle, he found the persistent knot that had sat inside his chest for months finally starting to loosen.   “Oh, and you have to try this bakery, Lenora’s. It’s near the library. The best pain au chocolat and pasties you’ve ever tried. And at Christmas they make amazing hot chocolate.” He stopped, turning to face you properly, taking an impulsive chance, “Are you hungry? If you’re not busy I could take you there, show you around a bit.” He asked, hope and slight nerves colouring his voice. To his relief, you nodded, “I am hungry, actually. And that sounds great, I’d love to have lunch with you.”

You reached your flat and you quickly stashed your shopping just inside the door and headed back out with Sinclar. You walked towards the bakery, arms occasionally bumping into each other, and chatting idly about anything that came to mind, not yet realising that this was the start of something very special.

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Hope who reads this likes it. Sinclair deserves so much love. I want to hug him so bad. I am planning a continuation of this with another prompt.

[poisonousroxstar]

Hi I saw your request are Open can I request

Yandere French blonde Bayonetta x daughter reader x brave Bayonetta x her daughter head Cannon

Like it when brave Bayonetta gos to fight them

And not only rosa getting possess it also the reader who is a power 12 year old with her own dragon Demon and what her action to her daughter death from brave Bayonetta. And then Bayonetta with her younger daughter reader dieing and joining her in a dance with her joining her in hell ( brave Bayonetta daughter is 18

Imagine:

Yan!mums Bayonettas (+Rosa) with an Umbran Witch Daughter

Plot Summery: B4 Bayoverse This Contains: ‼️MAJOR SPOILERS FOR BAYONETTA 3'S PLOT‼️ Major character deaths (reader death/character death), angst, yandere themes, violence. Not proofread. Note(s): This was really fun to write for! LOVE the scenario.

In this universe, you work alongside your mother and grandmother in reclaiming ancient umbran treasures. Though you're only 12, you are an exceptional witch, excelling in areas even fully mature and trained witches struggle with. You even contracted your first demon, a draconic entity notorious for its unbelievable power in Inferno, who also seems to hold an unimaginable possessiveness for you. Your mother and grandmother were extremely hesitant to let you in on their mission, but your skills and powerful kitty eyes won them over eventually.

French!Bayonetta, aka B4 Byonetta, is colder then most of the Bayonetta variants are, but she absolutely loves her daughter. She's always looking out for you, and is viciously possessive and protective. French!Rosa is the same, if not even more smothering. She absolutely adores and is proud of her granddaughter, loves her to bits, and will protect you with her life should the need ever arise.

If you share a semblance to Baldur (who's theorized to have died in Rosa's place in this universe), like having his blonde hair, sharp features, or anything else like that, then Rosa and Bayonetta's protectiveness increases tenfold.

When the Chaos Gear is stolen by the group of Stratus, you and Rosa are on hot pursuit, you ignoring the calls from French!Bayo as you chase after it. She sends Mictlantecuhtli after you both, giving the demon strict orders to look out for you specifically.

Meanwhile, Brave!Cereza has just entered the alternate universe and has witnessed a glimpse into this world's past. Seeing you and Rosa together stirs emotions inside of her. Seeing you interact with your grandmother, a luxury she'll never get to experience herself, is extremely bittersweet. Moreso if Prime!Y/N is with her at this time.

When Cereza and you finally these variants, she's mortified at what she sees; B4!Y/N and Rosa completely taken over by Singularity's vile homonculi. Rosa and B4!Y/N waste no time in engaging in battle, even as Cereza tries fo reach out to you. Eventually, you both are separated from one another, leaving B4!Y/N to Cereza, and Rosa to you.

Deep within her mind, Rosa is fighting a battle she cannot win. She's trying her hardest to fight against Singularity, fighting so that she won't hurt you. But it's entirely fruitless. Thus, when she does break through Perlucidus' control, she begs you to kill her so that she won't try to hurt you anymore. And as her umbran clock breaks into a thousand pieces, she thanks you, and falls into the void.

Meanwhile, Cereza is forced to fight B4!Y/N, which is extremely taxing on her both physically and emotionally. Even if you aren't her daughter, you are still a version of her, and a younger one at that. She tries her hardest to get through to you, but it's pointless as the conflict grows even more intense, the might of which tears away at the city's very structure. Even now, you're able to match up with Cereza's power, defeated only by the sheer impact of the fight.

Cereza watches as you fight an unwinnable battle against the parasite within you. She tries to hold you, begging you to fight, but it isn't enough. Hearing you cry through the control is so unbelievably painful for her.

It's hard for her to put you down, but she knows she needs to. Loading her gun, she fires a concentrated beam of magical energy through your chest, sending you back. Her arm drops as she watches you writhe for a few moments, and then as the demon arms pull your unflinching body into Inferno. She apologizes to your corpse for her incompetence "I'm sorry, little one..."

French!Bayo is absolutely livid when she learns that both you and Rosa have perished because of these multiversal interlopers. She's brokenhearted and in grief, but her core emotions are rage and bloodthirsty hatred. She will avenge you, she promises you that.

If she finds the main variant of you, be prepared to be in for a devastating battle. She won't hold back, and she'll be aiming to make it hurt. In a better state of mind, French!Bayo may have been more reasonable, but in the state she's in, she'll only see you as a mockery to her little one and an accomplice to her death. The battle between Cereza and her will be that much more intense.

Cereza, seeing how beaten you're getting, is quick to jump in and defend with great ferocity. The battle is harsh and destructive, but it plays out just like the game. French!Bayo gets taken over, Cereza powers up Baal to summon Baal Zebul, and French!Bayo is ultimately defeated.

Cereza wishes her variant well in the afterlife as she watches her break apart into nothing.

"May you be reunited with your mummy and your little one.."

The battle has left you greatly injured and drained and Cereza is smothering over her daughter, trying her best to tend to you. But there isn't much time to focus on that as the B4 universe is consumed by Singularity. The two of you are forced to leave, and focus on saving the rest of the multiverse. Cereza preys that you'll be safe.

...but her wishes only travel so far. By the nearing end of her journey, during her final battle with Sigurd... her luck runs dry.

Cereza, gravely beaten and injured, watches as you, her beloved daughter, gives it your all to protect your mummy from Singularity. Your own wounds have worsened and this battle only pushes that severity, but you push back against the pain and give this fight your all.

Singularity is unshakened from your attacks, although he didn't count on you trying to save the day. He brushes them off like dust in the wind. Cereza reaches her hand out to you, her voice no more then a whisper "no...d...don't..." is all she can say while she forces herself up, exhausted but fighting to get to you. To save you, like you wanted to save her.

But she isn't fast enough to stop Singularity from grabbing you by the neck and holding you in the air, his clutch on you squeezing the air from your lungs. You try feebly to fight back at him even now, but they do nothing to stop him. Cereza raises her guns and fires them at him "LITTLE ONE!!" But her attacks, like yours, do nothing. Singularity, bored of this fight, stares you in the eyes one last time before breaking your throat in his hold.

That sickening snapping sound rings through Cereza's head as she watches your body, once so full of live and the fighting spirit of an unbran witch, go limp and drop to the floor. She can't pry her eyes away watching as your body is swallowed by Inferno.

Her knees feel weak, and her throat is dry. "No..." is all she can whisper. It's small and it's quiet, so unlike the witch who was loud and big. She doesn't react, or maybe chooses not to, as she's held into the air by fallen debris.

As she's about to meet her end, a bullet frees her from her stony prison and she lands knees-first on the cold ground.

Her glasses are pushed up by the gunslinger, and she sees someone she hasn't seen in many, many centuries. The woman smiles down on her as she speaks to her little one, her red ribbons floeing gently..

"you didn't cry while I was gone, did you?"

When Singularity is defeated, Cereza is taken by Inferno. As she feels herself being pulled into the hellish depths, her thoughts drift to you.

In the end, your souls reunite. A dance between mother and daughter, one of grace, of emotion, of passion, and of loss is done. Cereza and her daughter dance as the multiverses are restored, one by one. B4!Bayonetta and her mother and daughter are reunited once more, clasped in an embrace neither one wishes to break off of.

And when the dance reaches its conclusion, Cereza holds your form in her arms. She gently caresses your hair before the two of you shatter into roses, fading away into Inferno.

Cereza and her little one. Together until the end.

[gilverrwrites]

Heyy I was wondering if you could do headcannons about Gabriel dating witch!reader if that’s something you’re up for :) also take care of yourself and remember to drink water and I hope you have a good day/night wherever you are 🫶🫶

If you're reading this now, go drink some water, please. 💙

CWs: None 💛

One thing I really love about Gabriel is that he is confident, sometimes to the point of (justifiable) cockiness, but he’s not particularly egotistical.

So, there’s no ‘you don’t need to do that, because I can do it for you’ debate.

If anything, he likely prefers that you have your own independent magical thing going on.

And he’s not worried about your soul being tied to any demon, or the dangers witchcraft might cause for you because, well, he’s an archangel so if you can’t hold your own, he can protect you. This also isn’t a debate, it’s fact.

Honestyly he would be a menace with a witch reader.

Not because he’ll encourage you to cause chaos, which he will, but because he won’t discourage it.

And being him will open so many doors that otherwise would be inaccessible.

Oh, you need the roots of a flower that hasn’t bloomed in 10 thousand years, no problem, *snap* I got you a bunch in case you need more.

What’s that? A hand of God? Yeah I can make that happen, snap *snap* here you go.

Causing problems for bad people was a Loki cover thing, but I 100% think he enjoys it and would continue that after the fact;

So I can totally see punishing wrong doers as a tag team being a date activity, if you’re down.

[chuuyrr]

I'm not sure if you're taking asks right now so feel free to ignore this. I'd like to request the Fushiguro! Child in the BSD universe where she gets sick so when her powers go wonky and instead of her going to other universes they all come to her universe instead(the JJK universe). The PM, ADA gets to meet Gojo and the Gang hehe. This is kinda inspired by me having a cold right now and having nobody around to talk with lol

scarlet witch! baby fushiguro! reader takes the port mafia and the armed detective agency to the jujutsu kaisen universe

jujutsu kaisen x reader x bungo stray dogs

masterlist of the series

╰➤ CW(s): quite the literal bungo stray dogs and jujutsu kaisen, fluff/comfort, kinda ooc but i tried 😭

╰➤ PAIRING(s): platonic! jujutsu kaisen (gojo & megumi only) + bungo stray dogs (port mafia & ADA) x child! reader

before you read: hi, in case you're new, you're megumi's younger half-sibling, and while you don't have cursed energy, you do have scarlet witch's powers and abilities! aside from that, as a special scarlet witch variant, you also have the ability to travel across the multiverse. how chaotic! furthermore, like your half-brother megumi, you are being cared for by gojo satoru, who also serves as your adoptive father. for more info, please see the masterlist.

being sick was one thing, but having your chaos magic go crazy was quite another.

you weren't even aware of it since you were in bed, sick with a feverish cold, caged up in your room with gojo and megumi who had just gone there only to leave again, failing to get you to eat as much as they wanted you to, which was natural.

you were breathing in and out with your eyes closed, trying relax while coughing a little from the cold, and as you lay in bed, feeling completely miserable, your fingers were subconsciously interlocking and locking.

your powers were working their magic, and the next thing you knew, your beloved family figures from the world of gifted detectives and mafiosos had been taken and dragged into your world in a snap of a finger.

THUD!!

as soon as you heard the sound, you instantly opened your eyes and sat up, and a soft gasp escaped your lips at the sight.

chuuya was face planted on the floor, letting out screams while rolling his r's in annoyance with dazai sitting on top of him, but kunikida, yosano, ranpo, kyouka, kenji, and fukuzawa, and even akutagawa, were either on their bums or feet, but it was clear that they didn't end up falling badly from the red portal present on your ceiling like chuuya, dazai, and atsushi.

"g-guys?" you squeak out, immediately catching their attention as your eyes lit up.

"[name]-chan!" cried dazai, only to let out a dramatic gasp when he noticed a cold gel patch on your forehead and how feverish you looked.

with that, dazai shoved chuuya aside as if he wasn't the one sitting on him in the first place when they were carried across the multiverse by some mysterious red power, and ran to your side, without caring where he was right now.

you extended your arms and hands towards dazai, a clingy expression over your sleepy and blurry eyes from being unwell, needing a cuddle as you whined gently at him, "dazai-nii!"

dazai sat by your side on the bed and hugged you dearly, holding you against his chest and stroking his fingers through your hair, hushing you softly yet comfortingly.

"shh, it's okay, my sweet little [name]-chan. dazai's here. in fact, we're all here.. and it appears to be because of you," dazai said softly, staring at the armed detective agency and port mafias you dragged along with him, all of whom he knows mean a lot to you as your loved ones.

everyone was staring at how dazai comforted you while you were obviously sick, and while akutagawa and chuuya were taken aback by this oddly softer and sweeter side of dazai, they gradually realized where they were, given the amount of plushies, children toys, and books in shelves, and cute decorations in the room, which was enough to tell that it was yours.

"yeah, this is definitely [name]-chan's room.." atsushi stated the obvious, a little smile tugging on his lips as he observed the quantity of hello kitty stickers on your wardrobe and drawers, as well as the stuffies you had, recognizing a few that dazai had gotten you back at home.

"and we're definitely in her universe this time," ranpo added, opening his eyes to reveal a pair of emerald irises and a serious expression that quickly changed, "which also means we've just traveled across the multiverse like our little [name]-chan! isn't that just fascinating?!"

"that's a very nice way to put it.. ranpo-san.." kunikida's sweat dropped as he folded his arms.

"it's still a wonder though.. all of us really traveled across the multiverse.." fukuzawa murmured, still in awe of that very fact.

"how does the brat even do it?" akutagawa sighed sharply, coughing a little as he straightened up and dusted off his clothes with his hands, "it felt like living through a lifetime of everything as we passed through those universes in a flash."

"i agree with him, i honestly feel a little sick.." kenji stated, scratching the back of his head, but still holding a bright smile nonetheless.

"speaking of sick, the chibi is sick too," chuuya exclaimed, his gaze softening at sight of you in dazai's embrace and holding onto him almost for dear life, "probably more than you, kiddo."

yosano was the first to rush to your side besides dazai and chuuya, the doctor in her and their maternal instincts kicking in.

"can i see her for a bit?" she requested softly yet severely as she stared at dazai.

"shh, it's okay, [name]-chan. auntie yosano just needs to check on you a bit," dazai nodded his head and gently pulled you away from him to let yosano check you, hushing you sweetly as you whined softly.

with that, yosano pressed her hand against your neck, face, and forehead, "hmm.. she's shivering a bit. chills it seems from her cold."

"damn, and even in [name]'s current state, she managed to use her abilities to get all of us here," chuuya commented, his eyes wide with amazement and true awe.

"[name]-chan's ability probably got wonky that brought us here out of pure instinct," kyouka softly murmured, to which ranpo pouted at as he claimed that was his line.

a knock rang in your bedroom door while you were being surrounded by your loved ones from another universe, prompting the armed detective agency and port mafia members you dragged in to tense up, especially dazai, who practically hugged you tighter out of protective instinct.

"kikufuku? are you awake?"

they all froze at that.

"shit, someone's at the fucking door," cursed chuuya as he stated the obvious.

"let's just knock out whoever's at the door," said akutagawa who was already activating rashomon.

"dad, i'm awake!" you exclaimed, causing everyone in your bedroom to stiffen up once more, despite dazai shushing you and instantly covering your mouth.

as soon as the door opened, a white-haired man in a tight black shirt and slacks entered, wearing black round sunglasses and carrying a medicine, water, and a bowl of soup in his arms, together with a spiky-haired boy.

the black tendrils of akutagawa's coat were already in the air, ready to attack with atsushi shaking his head at him, chuuya glowing red with crossed arms while the others remained relatively quiet, ranpo, fukuzawa, kyouka, kenji, and yosano unaffected.

there was a pin drop silent for a brief second as everyone stared off at gojo and megumi.

and that was until megumi did his handsigns and brought out his demon dogs into your bedroom, with gojo immediately dropping everything to the floor at the sight of this many strangers in your bedroom (it was also a wonder how they all managed to fit inside too), especially with an unfamiliar young man with unkempt brown hair and brown coat being in bed with you, as well as the one with ginger-hair and a hat as you tugged on his sleeve to make him sit by you too.

"what are all of you doing in my daughter's bedroom?!" cried out gojo, dazai's eyes widening to find you suddenly gone from his embrace and now in the embrace of the white-haired man who had already taken off his glasses with his free hand outstretched, ready to attack with the intention of protecting you.

'blue eyes with the speed of a blink of an eye,' dazai thought, staring at the man holding you in his arms. there was no doubt about it.

"calm down. we're not here to hurt your daughter," fukuzawa immediately stepped in both on the behalf of the armed detective agency and port mafia members in the room.

"you heard the boss, mister. we know [name]-chan!" ranpo backed up fukuzawa with a rather casual and enthusiastic response, very much unfazed at the tension in the air.

"these people know you, [name]?" questioned megumi as he glanced at you, then at gojo, who continued to hold you in his embrace.

"they're the ones i go to when you guys aren't around," you explained to your half elder brother, whining softly and squirming in gojo's grip, "now, put me dooown! they're not stranger dangers!"

you leapt to your feet as soon as gojo placed you down on the floor, clinging to dazai, who had already gotten out of your bed and was standing near chuuya.

gojo and megumi looked surprised as you hugged dazai's pant leg in the same manner you hugged gojo and occasionally your uncle nanami or your half older brother megumi.

a soft smile tugged on dazai's lips as he picked you up and carried you in his embrace, quietly smiling as he caressed the back of your head and allowed you wrap your tiny arms around his neck.

"you can't hurt dazai-nii and his friends!" you continued to speak as you turned your head towards gojo while letting dazai carry you.

"dazai-nii?" both gojo and megumi glanced at each other as they both uttered it unison.

"then that means.." gojo's words trailed off as he glanced at dazai, who happened to be quite as tall as him, before returning his focus to you, "you have a lot of explaining to do right here and now, [name]."

you were back in your bed after a long time of explaining, sitting up straight while gojo fed you spoonfuls of a new batch of soup, his eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of dazai and, well, chuuya on the other side of your bed, given how you refused to let them leave your side while you ate.

even megumi was cautious, especially when it came to akutagawa. he still had his demon dogs out and ready to attack them all.

fukuzawa, yosano, ranpo, and kunikida were seated on the little stools in the middle of your room, with ranpo fiddling with the tea cups and kettle toy on the mini table, and kenji and kyouka checking out your toys and other things.

the tension in the air was palpable, given that the majority of them were cautious of gojo's six blue eyes and his ability to move so swiftly that he could whisk you away from dazai and chuuya in the blink of an eye.

your father was no joke, and your older brother, megumi, was most likely as well, but you were entirely unaware of all of this and continued eating the soup that gojo fed you fairly gleefully now that the armed detective agency and port mafia were in your room with you.

"so, just to clarify things," began gojo, sitting back up and placing the now-empty bowl on your nightstand while opening your medicine with the spoon you used to eat, "all of you came from another universe, and you,"

dazai merely smiled at gojo as he pointed a spoon at him and spoke, "apparently you're [name]'s closest guardian, the one she tells me that resembles like me, dazai osamu."

"and all of those guys are your colleagues, including that guy over there who looks like nanamin with that old man being your boss," gojo said, to which ranpo snickered, fukuzawa's sweat fell, yosano merely gazed at, kyouka and kenji nodded, and kunikida looked perplexed.

"and you two," gojo said, pointing his spoon at chuuya, who simply arched a brow at him and said, "now, what?" with akutagawa glaring daggers at him.

"you guys are from the mafia and you're familiar with [name]?" gojo pointed out with narrowed eyes.

just as akutagawa was ready to dispute and say something unpleasant, chuuya interrupted him and spoke to gojo on their behalf, saying, "just so you know, we do not involve the chibi in our line of work. in fact, she stays very much out of it, if that's what you're worried about."

"chuuya's right, gojo-kun," dazai said with gojo already raising a brow at him, "we understand who and what [name]-chan is and how terribly young she is given her age, and just as powerful her special ability, err, abilities are, we make sure to keep her safe and that she is fed!"

"the armed detective agency ensures that [name]-chan is well taken care of, especially by dazai-san and the president," atsushi added, "in fact, the detective agency serves as her other home in another universe."

gojo's stern expression softened as he sighs deeply and shakes his head, "i see."

with that, gojo immediately lost the protective-father act and clasped his hands together, "well, that's settles it. i'm fine with it."

you then happily raised your arms in the air to celebrate, and croaked out a tiny sweet, "yay!"

"just like that?!" megumi cried out in disbelief.

"well, why else would they all be here saying all of that when it's not?" gojo raised a brow at megumi before laughing softly, "you know, thinking about it, these guys do kind of.. resemble us. take that kunikida-guy for example, doesn't he remind you of nanamin? or how that atsushi-guy acts like itadori-kun too?"

"that's not the point here!" megumi scoffed with a nerve protuded on his temple.

"and he acts like dazai," kunikida muttered his breath at the mention of him, shaking his head.

"aish, calm down, megumi-kun," gojo sighed as he began pouring some medicine in the spoon before turning towards you, gently nudging you to open your mouth to feed it to you, "if they had already wanted to hurt [name], they would have already. in fact, it was something i was already anticipating when i saw them in the room, especially with mister no-eyebrows over there. he kind of acts like you, by the way," gojo stated the last part, pointing at akutagawa.

"hey, watch your tongue or i'll cut you up!" akutagawa scowled at gojo at that.

"see?" gojo stifled a laugh at the threat, "he's so much like you back when you were little and [name]-chan was still a wee little baby."

megumi sighed deeply, shaking his head at gojo, "but still.."

gojo merely grins at megumi, then back at you, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, "and besides, you know it yourself, megumi-kun. the second i find out that they have hurt [name], i won't hesitate to infinite void them up."

following that, chuuya, akutagawa, dazai, and even fukuzawa tense up a little at the abrupt change in manner that gojo now displayed, which was terrifyingly similar to dazai.

"that being said, it will be fine. i'm the strongest, and i can hurt them ten times over."

however, dazai simply laughed, causing gojo's tone and eyes to soften once again. he knows about gojo satoru, the limitless jujutsu sorcerer whom is considered the strongest in the world you resided in, and that's becayse you told dazai everything, from who your father was and what he was like to what he was capable of.

"don't worry, gojo-kun, rest assured that [name]-chan is in safe hands, and you know, we'll get along just fine," dazai said before giggling at you, "right, little bella?"

"mhm!" you happily hummed with a nod.

gojo stared at dazai at that, and it didn't take long for a smile to tug on his lips, it was almost mischievous yet similar to dazai.

"i have a bad feeling about this," muttered kunikida, causing chuuya to look up at him.

"you know what? i agree with you on that."

[ author's notes ! hi, tysm requesting and i hope this writing of mine sufficed to make you feel well. hope you're feeling better :) sadly, i wasn't able to write for the other characters, and only did gojo and megumi meeting them. ngl i feel like my writing for scarlet witch! baby fushiguro! reader is a tad rusty (which is why i kinda hate my writing for this one, felt like i didn't do the request, err, suggestion, justice) given how i haven't writen for it in such a long time. the request for it is closed, but i just couldn’t help myself to write it down and see what i can do !! much much love from me to those who read until the very end, and yeah, reblogs are appreciated !! ]

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