#Crochet Wedding Flowers

[thecrochetcrowd]

Crochet Wedding Day Memory Makers

Crochet Wedding Patterns Say ‘yes’ to the crochet patterns designed specifically for weddings. To some people, weddings are the highlight of moving a chapter in life. I’ve been working on the Ring Bearer’s Crochet Pillow in tutorial format. I’ve been to three weddings in my life. Two of the three have been low-key weddings where the bride and groom were focused on what they could do themselves…

[softdedue]

GUESS WHOS A MARRIED MAN

[twinleeshop]

Just listed these in my Etsy shop!

[tutorialcrafter]

[onlinesweetheart]

<3

[tinytennisskirt]

The Motions

Summary: Reader and Art go through the motions of love, a wedding, the honeymoon, and pregnancy.

Warnings: smut! AU where Tashi doesn’t exist, tipsy sex, unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, mentions of calories and weight gain, pregnancy, mentions of pregnant sex.

You were picking berries in Art’s grandma’s garden, putting them in his grandma’s basket lined with a pink checkered cloth that she held in her wrinkled hands. You were talking about something out of earshot, but he could hear his grandma’s laughter ring out through the backyard, hearty and loud. You were smiling, the evening sun hitting you just right. Art watched from the gazebo by the pool, his mom who took care of the house talking to him about something he wasn’t hearing.

He loved seeing his grandma come back to visit her home from the retirement home, but he loved seeing you make her laugh even more. Art leaned onto his hand, mouth just a little open watching you cheers over a blackberry and eat it the same time as his grandma. He knew it then, he loved you so much, he knew he had to marry you.

And he did a year later. Married at twenty-five. A young couple, married in his grandma’s garden with only friends and family around. You looked perfect, like an angel in white. Art would never forget how much he smiled that day, his cheeks hurting.

The after party was perfect as well. String lights over the walls, delicious food, and good music. You in a smaller white dress that enabled you to dance with him all night long. Bell sleeves you insisted on because of some Anne Hathaway musical that you were obsessed with. You only ever stopped to thank family for coming and giggle about the wedding with your best friend. Art took some time to talk to Patrick, but no matter what anyone, even Patrick said to him, his eyes were glued on his perfect new bride.

You looked at him from where you were and waved, holding up your ring finger and blowing him a kiss off of it. He loved you more than anything.

A few more drinks from the open bar that had been set up by the shed in the garden and you and Art were laughing, pictures being snapped every now and then. You danced with Art’s grandmother before she headed back to the retirement home, pretending like you hadn’t had too many margaritas and Art enjoyed the attempt, surprised at how well it went.

You said goodbyes to your guests and soon it was just you, Art, Patrick and your best friend and maid of honour. You enjoyed what was left of the bottled wine and talked, but as soon as they left, Art had you against the wall.

You had the house to yourself, you’d leave for your honeymoon tomorrow evening and you two stumbled drunk on love and wine into the house, your back against the wall, the pictures falling off the wall- thank god there was no glass in the frame.

Kissing passionately, his hands all over your body, your arms around his neck, hands in his hair. He cradled your head as you both rolled against the wall, trying to make it to the bed but it was so useless. The table against the wall in the hallway was going to have to do. Art shoved the tennis trophy off of it along with the basket of keys and the small crocheted flower pots his grandma collected. He picked you up and set you down on the surface and in seconds you were kissing again, his hands reaching around the back to unzip the dress but when it wouldn’t come down, other measures had to be taken.

You and Art both hiked your dress up, him desperately kissing down your neck, one hand sliding down over your waist to rest on your now-bare hip. It was the other hand that pulled down the white lingerie you wore under the dress, something meant to be seen in better lighting, on a better surface, but was now on the floor.

Perfect warm kisses down your collarbone, up your neck, behind your ear as your hands fumbled with pulling off his tie, unbuttoning the top of his white dress shirt, moaning quietly as he used his teeth on your earlobe. You gave up on the buttons halfway and started on the button of his dress pants, undoing them, undoing the zipper. He gripped your hip with the tips of his fingers, sliding his hands over the smooth skin of your thigh, reaching down between them, pushing fingers into you as you moaned into his ear. Your legs wrapped around him in his boxers as he pumped his fingers in and out at the pace he knew you loved.

You moaned out loudly into the empty of the house and it set his body on fire. Neither of you could take it, you tugged on the rim of his boxers and he obliged, taking them off in seconds, stepping out and away and coming to reconnect with your lips hungrily, perfectly, fingers continuing to fuck you just right. You needed him more than anything.

“Art, please,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Mhm?” He grinned, lifting you just slightly to reposition you. Your hand fell to his dick, gripping it and slowly moving your hand up and down. He groaned audibly and it fuelled your own flame. His fingers left you and gripped your hips again as he pulled you to the edge of the table, the perfect height to push himself into you. You both moaned loudly, feeling him fill you. “Fuck, I love you.” He groaned, the thousandth ‘I love you’ of the night, but the sexiest. You grinned as he began to thrust him and out, breathing hard and gripping his hair.

“I love-mmm- I love you too,” you hummed, tossing your head back as he fucked you as you sat on the table, your legs wrapping around his waist. He took the time to kiss your neck again, your collarbone, biting your ear again. “Fuck!” You moaned out.

Art only fucked you harder with every moan, fuelling him, keeping him going. That and all the love- so much love. It wasn’t even your honeymoon yet.

He finished and you both were left sweating by this table in the hallway. You wrapped your arms around his neck, foreheads resting against each other’s. You shared a smile and Art grinned his signature grin, kissing your nose. You cupped his face, kissing him gently on the lips.

You slept like babies that night.

When you got off the plane in Dominican Republic, you raised your hands over your head and kissed Art hard on the lips. He loved seeing you excited. You practically told every stranger who spoke to you that you were on your honeymoon, showing off the wedding ring that was of course, a travel dupe, but just as beautiful. Your real rings were at home on the kitchen table.

The house you rented was beautiful, by the water, full of sun, and very private.

“This is perfect,” you sighed happily, flopping down on the large patio couch that was just outside on the deck under the shade of an umbrellas.

“Not as perfect-“ he sat next to you, “-as my wife.” He grinned. You sat up just to kiss him.

“That was cheesy,” you told him. “But I love it. And you.” You kissed him again. You headed into town that day, a grocery trip. The locals were lovely and very nice. There were vendors selling fruits, vegetables, kids playing at the playground.

You and Art bought yourselves some fruit and sat on a bench at the park, sharing it bite for bite. You watched the children play, smiling as they ran in circles around tree trunks. Art watched your expression as a woman with a baby in a wrap passed you both, the baby the cutest you both had ever seen. Chubby-cheeked, small fingers, curious eyes that looked over you both as the baby passed. Art noted how your hand subconsciously drifted to place itself flat over your stomach. He was feeling it too, if he was honest. Something about being married, something about you looking so empty in your tank top and skirt.

“Cute baby,” you said, snapping back to reality when you realized Art was watching you with a smile.

You smiled back and Art twisted his mouth to the side, knowingly. “Cute baby?” He teased.

“Something about being married, I don’t knowww,” you said sheepishly. It was exactly what he was thinking… He leaned over and kissed you on the forehead. There was a wordless agreement made and the anticipation began.

Art cooked dinner while you worked on dessert, him making perfect seafood kababs over the provided barbecue in nothing but his swim trunks and some stupid apron you made him wear. You sat, admiring him from the kitchen inside, thinking about how he looked so husband. You had no other descriptors. He was so husband.

He waved at you through the window, staring at the bikini you were wearing as you baked your chocolate lava cake. You waved back, wiggling your fingers knowingly.

You ate together at the glass table right by the beach in the shade of the palms. The food was perfect and the dessert even better as the sun began to set. A whole day of enjoying being married and Art could not focus as you wiped your bottom lip of the lava cake, sucking the extra off your fingers, looking at him through your eyelashes. He watched, a little dumbstruck, mouth a little open. He could have had you on the table right then and there, but he knew he’d get lucky later…

You poured yourself a bath as you both digested, filling it with rose petals and sweet smelling candles. Art himself took a shower in the outdoor shower to clean himself from the water he’d been swimming in while he waited, then he cleaned up from dinner as his hair dried.

He was washing dishes when you stepped out from the bathroom. Hair perfect, eyelashes long, lips perfectly pouted and your body wrapped in delicate lace that barely covered you at all. a very small slip skirt to top it all off. Art almost dropped the dish he held but he was lucky to have the restraint to take off the dishwashing gloves as you used your pointer finger to signal him to come closer, slipping through the door of your bedroom and shutting the door behind you. He followed, opening it to you laying on the bed for him in wait.

He grinned as he jumped onto the bed, going to kiss you- but you dodged him. You giggled, looking at his surprise. He narrowed his eyes at you, going to kiss you again but you moved your head to the side, giggling more. “Uh-uh,” you teased. Art’s eyes glazed over with lust fuelled by love, looking over your body in this lingerie. You leaned forward and he thought you’d kiss him but you dodged him again. Art grinned his lopsided grin and grabbed your face, kissing you excitedly. You both laughed into it but the laugh was gone when he pressed his body to yours. He was hard before he even left the sink and he was glad there was so little to remove. You moaned as his hand slid down your neck, over your chest, gently squeezing through the thin fabric of your lingerie.

Oh, Art was driven crazy by the way you looked in it. The lights in the room were dim but enough to get a good look at you and if he weren’t so busy kissing you, lips against lips, hungry, driven, needed, he would be staring. He was painfully hard, pressing against you as he kissed down your neck, down your chest, moving your lingerie aside to kiss your chest, sending goosebumps to every part of your body and causing heat to flare between your thighs. He knew just what to do.

His fingers gently went between the slip of your skirt and your waist, lips following kissing between lace and skin and pulling it down. It revealed the bodysuit’s end, crotchless, perfect, but Art had a preference. He unsnapped the edges, the lace curling over your stomach as he kissed lower and lower. You pulled the lingerie off, not even minding that its purpose was quick, but effective.

Art’s lips grazed your thighs, planting the smallest of kisses down the inside of them, gently pushing your legs up into a bent position. You could have moaned just at the action of it, gentle but with intent.

He kissed up the thigh and over the hip again, coming to kiss your stomach. It was soft skin, pretty, but he imagined how it would feel to kiss in a few months after he was done with you. He kissed just below your belly button, then down, down, down, until he kissed gently over your clit and it send another wave of goosebumps, much stronger. He was gentle, so gentle it was almost unbearable.

Your hands slid into the roots of his hair. “Please,” you begged, breathless over the lack of touch, or rather the lack of pressure that you so needed.

“What was that?” Art said quietly from between your thighs, hovering over the places you needed his mouth, his tongue. He planted another kiss over your skin, not enough.

“Please,” you said, just a little louder. “I need it, I need you.”

“Need me to what?” He asked, eyes peeking up from where you laid. You pushed his head back down, but he didn’t you push him into any action. He was enjoying teasing you back, knowing it was so much worse than a dodged kiss. He could feel how in need you were as he kissed just a little lower, over the most sensitive parts. You breathed a heavy sigh, pulling his hair just gently but trying to push his mouth against you. “Say it.”

You flushed, “I need you-“ another heavy breath left your lungs, “-Please, Art.”

Honestly he didn’t even want you to take another second, he himself couldn’t help it. In a heartbeat his tongue was exactly where you needed it. Your back immediately arched at the contact and Art himself moaned as you did, the taste of you more delicious than any meal either one of you could ever cook.

His tongue licked over your clit, pressing hard against eliciting a second moan from you, licking down over you, his tongue sliding and pushing itself inside, just to lick up again. Your hands pulled his hair and you squeezed his head with your thighs gently, feeling all of it, every flick of his tongue, every time he circled your clit, every time his tongue pushed back inside, moving up and down quickly.

He pressed against the bed, but it wasn’t good enough, he was too excited to fuck his wife. He hummed against your cunt, sending vibrations down his tongue. You moaned louder, “Fuck, Art!” You moaned out. “Fuck, fuck- mmm.” You couldn’t help the noises he caused. He loved every second of it, every little noise, every tiny whine. Art would have continued until you came on his tongue, but your voice was the instruction he could never deny. “Fuck me, please.” You moaned.

He couldn’t waste a second after that ask, moving from between your legs just as you asked, wiping his mouth on his shirt before pulling it off and kissing you again. Hot, needy, passionate. Your hands travelled to his shorts, pulling them down, him following through by kicking them off. There was no waiting, there was no falter in his arousal, he plunged into you almost immediately, starting rough.

You both moaned loudly in unison as he began thrusting in and out. His excited crooked grin fucked right off by the way you tightened around him. His body over yours, chest to chest, dick deep inside you. Your whole body felt warm, fuzzy, and you were dazed, high on him. He lifted your leg over his shoulder, pushing deeper, you feeling it in your lower stomach as he fucked you. “You feel so good,” he said. He’d made love to you a million times before but this was rich with sober lust. “Fuck, Y/N.” He groaned.

Your eyes rolled back as he only went harder, faster, feeling you tighten under the pressure. He continued, more and more until, “Fuck, I’m close.” He said. “Can I?”

“Go ahead baby,” You grinned into the kiss, warmed as he continued, his thrusts getting harder, but more spaced, sloppier. You felt it hot as he finished into you, coming undone with your name on his tongue. It was loud, it was enough, it was hot and you were so full of him, even as he pulled out.

You breathed hard, feeling it when he moved out of you, kissing you a few more times before pushing up and moving right back between your thighs immediately following. He ate you out until you finished, HARD, moaning his name out desperately.

You fucked three more times that night.

The honeymoon was lovely. You came home and resumed work, Art resuming his tennis. You had both had late nights, sometimes early mornings, but slept soundly together every night, arms wrapped around one another until you woke up. Two months of a newly-wed routine with plenty of sex, plenty of kissing, and so much love in a singular household.

Art’s thing had been Chinese food lately. He’d come home from tennis with it, he’d get it on the way back from groceries and on Fridays when you both had nothing to do in the evenings and didn’t want to cook, you’d order in. It didn’t even occur to you that maybe it was too much when you when to put on your jeans and they didn’t fit. You felt the thighs were tighter as you pulled them up only to find that it was harder to button. You sucked in to button them and looked in the mirror. Maybe you’d put on some weight. You called Art into the bedroom, he walked in with his cereal and first thing he was excited to see you in just jeans and your bra.

“I have forty minutes before practice,” he said, setting the bowl down on the bedside table. You chuckled before looking back at the mirror.

You couldn’t help but smile, looking at him through it. “I have to ask you something and you have to answer it like you’re on truth serum, okay?” You said, turning to face him. He nodded, looking just a little bit concerned now at your approach. “You can’t answer as my husband or as the man who loves me, okay? Truth serum.”

“Truth serum,” he repeated, nodding. He walked over and kissed your forehead, confusion in his eyes.

You looked back in the mirror, back at him. “Havr you noticed any weight gain? On me.” You asked. You had heard about the effects of being someone’s wife but didn’t think they’d set in just yet.

Art cleared his throat, “Weight or not, you’re beautiful either way,” he said.

You smiled, but shook your head, “Not as my husband!” You giggled. “You’re sweet, though.”

He kissed you quickly, pulling you closer. “I have noticed, yes, but I don’t mind. In fact, I think I like it.” He smirked just a little. The man you loved for years could still make you blush. “I think it’s my fault. The Chinese.” He nodded.

“I was thinking that too,” you said. “It’s okay. I suppose I forgot I don’t have your metabolism and play tennis almost every day.” You chuckled. “I think I’ll lay off it for now.”

“Do you need to?” He grinned, pulling you into a kiss with intention.

“I have work in thirty,” you interrupted his kiss, though you loved it.

He grinned, “Oh, you have work.” He said back to you, kissing you again, this time with more passion. “I’ll make it quick?”

“Deal,” you agreed, pushing him back on the bed. You loved him and he loved you in any form, you were learning. That was good enough fuel for morning sex. Maybe you could burn calories bouncing for a bit…

The weight gain worsened. You gave it another three weeks, weeks that you began hitting the gym every morning of every other day, going with Art to practice, and only having Chinese once. You looked in the mirror again. Art came up behind you, kissing your shoulder, moving your hair to kiss your neck. You were undressing after work and you stood there in just your underwear. His hands slid over your waist, your hips.

“You still love me like this?” You asked him.

“Like what?” He asked, kissing your ear gently. It sent goosebumps over your skin.

“Like this,” you gestured to the mirror. “Bigger.”

He smiled against your skin, “So much.” He hummed into your ear. “You are so beautiful.”

“Promise?”

“You want me to prove it?” He asked, grinning. He moved to look at you, but you didn’t look very happy. “I’m sorry. Of course I promise. I married you, you just happen to be inside of a body. I love that too, but it doesn’t make you more or less worthy of how I feel.”

You were in love with his words. With the mouth that spoke them. With him. “But what if it gets worse.”

“There is no worse,” he chuckled, kissing your cheek, then nose, then lips, softly. “But Y/N, I don’t think it’s weight gain.” He said. He just smiled, “I have a theory.”

“What?” You asked. And it all clicked. You covered your mouth, eyes widening. “Do you think- I- why didn’t I even think about that?”

He grinned, “I think we both thought it was the Chinese.”

“It was supposed to be,” you laughed a bit breathily. “Oh my god, do you think we- oh my god.”

“I bought you two tests today,” he chuckled. You hit him in the arm. “What?”

“Move! I have to go take them!”

He laughed as you rushed in your underwear to the bathroom where he had laid them on the counter. It was a good thing you’d had a ton of iced tea at work that day. You were so cute. Art wouldn’t lie, from the moment it clicked for him, his heart hadn’t stopped racing. Part of him was worried that it wasn’t what the situation was and maybe it was something else, but he had a feeling. And so did you.

You wrapped yourself in your robes, your heart beating hard as you opened the door, Art waiting against the wall outside, arms crossed. Your hearts beat hard, nearly in unison. “I didn’t look yet, I thought we should together?” You said, the nerves apparent in your voice.

You set them down on the bedside table and sat on the edge, your eyes staying on Art’s. You could see the love in his eyes, the anticipation right along with it. You could feel it as your heart beat against your rib cage. “In three?” He said, perfect eyes meeting yours.

“I love you,” you said, trying not to giggle just because of the nerves. How did you not even think about this?

“I love you too. In three?” You both were so so scared, but so so in love. You nodded. “3…2…1,” and you both looked down at both of the tests, double-lined and confirming with a digital word,

pregnant.

You gasped, covering your mouth with one hand, the other grabbing Art’s arm. He inhaled sharply, turning to you without hesitation and kissing you hard, holding your face with both of his hands.

A baby, a baby, a baby.

“Oh my god,” he grinned between hard kisses, full kisses, perfect, excited kisses. “Oh my god.”

You kissed his cheek over and over and over, his whole face was peppered out of sheer excitement. “I’m pregnant!” You giggled. He chuckled, kissing you hard again. It was scary and new but wonderful to know it wasn’t Chinese food’s fault. It was lovely, wonderful, fulfilling. “I’m so glad I haven’t drank since the wedding.” You laughed. Art’s hands wrapped around you, holding you tight, your arms doing the same, keeping him in an embrace that he broke only to kiss your stomach the way he had on your honeymoon. He’d been waiting to do so.

And he never stopped kissing your stomach whenever he could, appreciating your body for what it was working so hard to grow. Sex got a little bit harder to achieve, but Art loved every second of it, worshipping your body for its achievements. He was great, very supportive, burying himself in books about parenting and pregnancy, buying you or making you every craving. He loved every change, every difference, how cute you looked in dresses. He cried when you ruptured the balloons to pink confetti, more excited to have a daughter than you’d ever expected. He loved you and he would love your daughter more than anything.

He was there through labour, through delivery, letting you squeeze his hand hard enough he thought you might break his bones. Even through the sweat and tears, you were the most beautiful woman in the world to him. And you were soon the most beautiful mother in the world to him when your daughter finally arrived after seven hours of labour. She was the most beautiful thing, covered in blood, but so beautiful. So tiny. So perfect.

He held his little girl in his arms when she was all clean and she smelled exactly as a baby should. She had big cheeks, a cute little nose, and he could pinpoint the features you’d given her. “She’s so beautiful,” Art said, trying not to cry. He was so in love, it was overwhelming. He passed you your baby and you held her, tired, crying. “Thank you.” He said.

You looked at him, “For her?” You pouted, your husband’s gratitude the most beautiful thing.

“For her.” He grinned, looking at his perfect daughter. “She’s absolutely perfect, you did such a good job.” He leaned down and kissed you quickly, then kissing his baby on the forehead. “I love you so much.” He said, meaning you both.

“I love you too,” you replied, kissing him again. You were so in love and here, in your arms, was the evidence

[a-hermit-pining]

Geto as a House Husband

Genre: Fluff Pairing: House husband Geto x Reader AN: I love him. He's so damn pretty. Who should I write next?

Have you seen him? He is mother material. Born to cook forced to slay. Let's say in a different world, you whisk this beautiful man into the domestic bliss of marriage.

Massive cottage core vibes with this one. He is very taken by the idea of not being regarded as a killing machine. Immediately busies himself with the task of decorating your shared home.

Just take this man away. Elope to mountains and save him (hermit begs you).

Wedding planning is another demon. He debates every single decision. Asking you about your preference between white gardenias or white peonies. (You love him and he is too sweet for you to say out loud that you for the end of the world cannot distinguish the flowers)

He creates elaborate flowcharts to compare the pros and cons of different cake flavors, or insists on stress-testing the honeymoon resort's structural integrity with a cursed technique (much to the staff's bewilderment).

Let's not even get into Gojo's best man speech. No one really recovered from that.

DIY projects are his shit. Renovating a raggedy old dresser into a vintage masterpiece is where his magic lies. Let this man cook.

Your home with him is a a whimsical blend of vintage finds and hand-stitched throw pillows adorned with subtle wards against lingering curses. Even the strategically placed spider plants weren't just decorative – they doubled as a natural barrier against negative energy (a discovery that both surprised and amused you).

His transition into a normal 'monkey' life was endearingly awkward, like the time he spent hours meticulously decoupaging a floral pattern onto a chair, muttering about the inefficiency of glue compared to a simple binding spell.

And the day Suguru is introduced to the world of crocheting, your world flips on its axis. The pure look of joy on his face unravels the seams of your heart as he presents you with the mood changing octopus on your birthday.

Weekends with him are craft days. With a classic rom-com in the background as he sits next to you, his hands busy in the dance of needles and yarn. Better even your fingers run through his hair, braiding his hair only to wake up to your husband with perfect mermaid waves next day.

You both are the kind of sickly sweet couple that cause Shoko to gag in cringe during holiday gatherings.

Your husband glows with the simplicity of life. His hands busy themselves with crafts, chores, gardening, never a moment of rest even in the hull of domesticity.

He is your Disney princess that rushes out to refill the bird feeder with the first rays of Sun, hums pleasantly at the sight of a perfectly baked batch of cookies, or paints the most delightful sceneries on your ceilings.

Geto Suguru was made to create. He loves the fresh scent of sheets, experimenting with new flavors of tea, or going down the path of BookTok with Faerie romances much to your astonishment.

It isn't long before, you both end up adopting teeny tiny twins from the local orphanage. Suguru's darling girls he spends his life nurturing.

He took to fatherhood with the same surprising zeal he brought to everything else. His days were filled with braiding tiny pigtails, reading bedtime stories with dramatic voice inflections (complete with a surprisingly convincing rendition of a grumpy troll), and building elaborate pillow forts that rivaled any jujutsu barrier.

And on nights when dreams of a different reality kept him away, you held his hand in yours. Calling your girls for a family sleepover in the living room. That was all it took to whisk the sadness away from your beloved's eyes.

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Nimona headcanons that I wrote in like 15 minutes don’t judge me

I feel like both Bal and Ambrosius are the kinds of people who try and act like they’re not sick 

Bal has an amazing immune system he rarely if ever gets sick 

But when he does get sick he’ll be in absolute denial about it 

If someone confronts him all he’ll say is “No I’m fine I don't get sick” and then he’ll push himself until he’s literally sitting in a hospital still acting like he’s not sick 

Ambrosius has the worst immune system you can possibly imagine 

Someone sneezes on this boy and he’s sick for the next two weeks 

But he’s also sick enough times that he’s convinced himself that he can work through anything 

After a while he’s literally forced to relax and be taken care of and he complains the entire time that he should be working 

I’ve kind of alluded to this headcanon but I don’t think Nimona can get sick

But if she could get sick she would be the most annoying person known to mankind 

She would have a sore throat and make the biggest deal about it and force the boys to take care of her

And the boys will comply because this is one of the few times that Nimona lets them take care of her 

I mentioned in this post tags that they all hand make every single present 

The first thing that Bal ever made/gave Ambrosius was welded rose that he made out of scrap metal 

He thought it was a stupid present but Ambrosius got super emotional and said it was the best present he had ever received 

Bal highly doubted that cause Ambrosius literally got a car as a birthday present once 

But then he saw it in a little vase that Ambrosius made and it became kind of a tradition after that

During every big event in their lives Bal welded Ambrosius a rose and he kept every single one 

By the time the knighting ceremony rolled around he had close to 80

Ambrosius made more heavy-duty vases just to hold all of the flowers 

It’s kind of sweet because you can see both of their hobbies improving as the years go on 

The first gift Bal ever got from Ambrosius was a sweater he crochet himself 

He made it cause he knows that Bal runs cold and he would make off-handed comments about it every once and a while

He was kind of nervous cause he never took on a project that big before 

Bal wore it all the damn time 

He treated that sweater like it was gold which is why he was crushed when it started unraveling 

He went to Ambrosius sobbing with an arm full of yarn apologizing and saying he ruined it

Mind you he gave him that sweater like 5 years prior and had knitted and crocheted him a million things afterwards 

It was a miracle that the sweater lasted as long as it did 

He spent the entire night consoling him while asking for his input on the new one he was currently working on 

The first gift Bal and Ambrosius gave Nimona made him tear up and cling to them as an actual koala for the rest of the night 

Bal welded him a little dragon and Ambrosius crocheted him a little rhino

The first gift Nimona gave the boys was for both of them

It was a painting of the three of them the boys thought it was beautiful but also incredibly out of character 

Until they gave them the second painting of the three of them fighting guards as the institute burned down behind them

The boys framed both and hung them in the living room

Whenever Ambrosius goes anywhere he’s swarmed by groups of people and sometimes those people will ask questions about his clothes and jewelry 

And he gets this proud look in his eyes while he says “Oh my kid made this in the living room 15 minutes before I left the house” 

When Bal proposed he actually made both the engagement and their wedding rings 

He always got compliments on both rings and Ambrosius would let them get a better look while gushing about all the little details that were put into it

And this doesn’t stop when Bal and Nimona are around either 

In fact he’ll drag them over and gush about them while they get progressively more embarrassed

[melon-fodder]

okay after taking a ceremonial dagger 🗡️ from @monst it is time for people to steal from my room so

And we are tagging: @lady-lauren @hayatoseyepatch @starlightnarumi @entirelysein-e @kweenkatsuki-fics @bluebellhairpin no pressure!

[garpen]

don’t remember if youve said this already but whos the ring bearer at dick and koris wedding? i have a few ideas that may or may not relate to a lot of yarn and a crochet hook

Ooh very good question! I honestly didn't put much though into who was taking what place in the wedding.

What I had in mind for sure:

Officiant: Alfred

Maid of Honor: Donna

Best Man: Wally

I think they stuck with just one person on each side for the wedding. So no other gromsmen/bridesmaid

For ring bearer? I know Damian is a bit old for a ring baear, but I for sure think Dick would want to incorporate Damian into the wedding someway considering their relationship. So-

Ring bearer: Damian

For a flower girl, that role usually goes to a young girl and the only one really coming to mind is Lian. Especially considering both Dick and Kori's close relationship with Roy, it would make sense they have a close relationship with Lian. So-

Flower girl: Lian

Yall feel free to share your ideas though, I'd love to hear them.

[s-rosie]

TIG HCSSSSS

hiii, this is my first hc post and im still a bit new to the all so pls ignore it if it is bad. some amazing tig hc creators are @x-liv25-jamieswife and @ilyiwdtpyiwmyhmtkys and i took some inspiration from them so pls check them out.

Jameson is a huge theatre nerd and he converted Avery so now they listen/watch/go to musicals together

they sing and quote them so often, everyone gets SOOOO annoyed

for Halloween, they went as pre say no to this Hamilton and Elliza one year and as jd and veronica another year and everyone LOST IT

Jameson even surprised her with Hamilton tickets but she had to solve a riddle to see where they were going

the riddle was a single letter that just said “My Dearest, Avery” and nothing else (iykyk)

Grayson has secretly watched every episode of Dance Moms and even memorized some of the dances

Avery one time did a spicy dance on TikTok and Jameson absolutely LOST HIS MIND

Alisa made her take the video down, because she said it was too “inappropriate” (even though it wasn’t even as bad as half of the other dances out there)

Jameson managed to save it beforehand and still has it to this day

Xander has read Avery’s diary and saw some THINGS things she wrote (especially about jamie (iykyk)) and he almost died but she just laughed it off

Libby often says stuff that sounds really dirty but she doesn’t mean it that way and gets very confused why everyone started laughing at what she was saying

Jameson played/plays hockey

Nash and Avery go on little outings every once and a while just for some bonding time (and a bit of lovingly trash talking Jamie)

Thea has MAD rbf like its not even ok

Rebecca can play guitar and sing and it sounds so soothing

Oren ugly cried at Avery and Jameson’s wedding

Jamie absolutely adores matching couples shirts but Avery hates them with a passion but she wears them sometimes to make him happy

Grayson loves picking flowers

Max and Avery one time pretended they were receiving awards (grammy’s, oscar’s, etc.) with the many awards the Hawthorne boys won (before javery was official) and Jameson was in a secret passage the whole time watching and they heard him giggling so she opened the passage to see him standing there and she just went beet red

he thought it was adorable and it just made him like her even more (can someone pls write a fic about this pls)

Nash is/was a barrel racer

Xander has the absolute dirtiest mind ever and can make anything he/you say sound dirty (a close second is Jameson)

but Xander is so clueless he sometimes says something that sounds so dirty and he doesn’t even realize

Max had to run a mile for school and almost died

Avery one time broke her arm while playing badminton (don’t ask me how but i can’t talk because i would too)

Jameson loves roller coasters but gets motion sick so he will ride the most intense roller coaster and immediately throw up after

Max and Avery threaten each other with telling embarrassing things they have done in the past to the others

Nash and Libby tease Avery and Jameson SO MUCH

they are always saying things like “leave some room for Jesus” and “get a room” when they show the slightest affection (out of love)

sometimes Nash will even come out of nowhere when they are watching a movie and say something like “what are we watching?” and just sit in the middle of them

Avery loved up cycling old and vintage thinga and Jameson will help

Rebecca loves to craft because it helps her relax

she even taught Libby how to crochet

after seeing the effects, no one lets Gigi have coffee

even though Savanna is cold at first, she really opens up to the group and they all love her though she thought they wouldn’t (ofcc)

Grayson and Avery once made a power point about skincare for Jamie after learning he just washes his face with body soap and cold water (*shutters*)

Avery calls Xander Xanny Poo or just Pookie but never his real name

when they were still in school, Xander made Avery a fake prom-posal after her, Xander, and Jamie had a conversation about how cringy they were

She almost murders him on the spot

Avery once threatened to slap Jameson because he was being annoyed and he said “is that a threat, or a promise? and she almost passed out

after that, Xander called Ave a sadist and Jamie a masochist for a month and a half

Grayson and Avery watch Bridgeton together

when he was younger, Jameson was absolutely OBSESSED with Gravity Falls, he would theorize about it and try to solve the mysteries (which he got most of them right)

he has the journal #3 with the invisible ink on his book shelf to this day

Jameson and Avery are always playing game pigeon

Avery and Libby bought dress-up dresses and have tea parties (sometimes Max joins)

Jameson loves to rub it in his brothers (especially Gray’s) faces that he is technically royalty

I hope you like this!!! please let me know how i can improve. all constructive criticism is highly appreciated and welcome. please give me suggestions on what i can do next. thank you so much!

[rebelwrites]

I’m sorry

I know I came back but then went MIA again 😅

I am hoping to be more active after our wedding, literally every spare moment has been working on crocheting flowers for the big day and this week has been making sure everything is finished.

I cannot believe our wedding is so close now, 8 days to go tomorrow and I also have my final dress fitting and bring my dress home as well 🥺

Rebel will be back 💜

[tutorialcrafter]

[jumexju]

pleaahahahasssss

i wanna write a fic about capitano being househusband material so bad but I DONT HAVE THE ENERGYYYY

like imagine him coming home and immediately engulfing his darling wife in kisses and hugs while whispering sweet nothings into her ears

him with a damaged wife who's been done wrong by so many other men and shows her just how different he is through the litte things he does i.e buying her flowers, writing her letters 💥💥💥

damaged wife who's a creative and through his love for her, capitano has rekindled his wife's desire to write letters/poems to him and make him things from her bare hands whether it be painting or crocheting or whatever

capitano playing with his wife's hair when hes bored and being such a pouty childish man when he's with herrrr GUYS DO U SEE THE VISION IM GOING CRAYZEE

Like if hes just not busy one day but his wife is, hes just moping waiting for her to get home likeee 'pls come home bae im dying' type stuff

imagine wifey's proud smile when a dude tries to hit on her and she flashes her very ostentatious wedding ring n shes like 'sorry heh im married to the manliest man ever' and the manliest man ever in question is waiting at home like a kicked puppy

frick man i love that guy

my knight in shining armer

LITERALLY!!!

[beneathsakurashade]

ᴋɪᴛꜱᴜɴᴇ ʏᴏᴍᴇɪʀɪ - Tɯιʂƚҽԃ Wσɳԃҽɾʅαɳԃ x Gҽɳʂԋιɳ Rҽαԃҽɾ

“Let my embrace consume you, and our fates will be one”

Kitsune Yomeiri

The Kitsune’s Wedding

Basic Info

A kitsune hime attends an all boys school, alongside a magicless human and their fire breathing cat. Their mission is to return home and yours is to find a certain fae. Perhaps otherworldly beings can find a way to help each other, or not, it's all up to you.

Content Warnings

The story will have some possibly suggestive scenes, swearing, and fantasy violence. Nothing extreme :)

Character Info

You _ Dorm Name: Y/N L/N Gender: Female (is referred to by he/him at Night Raven) Birthday: March 6th Age: 410 (chronologically), 16 (age on application). Height: (however tall you wanna be) Dominant Hand: Ambidextrous Homeland: Inazuma Family: Ajisai L/N (mother: deceased), Renge L/N (father: deceased), Ume L/N (younger brother: deceased), Suzuran L/N (older sister: deceased?). Voiced by: unknown Other names: Sayuri Mochizuki (pseudonym), Grade: Sophomore Class: B (No. 8) Club: No club (yet…) Best Subject: History of Magic Vision: Electro Hobbies: Ikebana Pet Peeves: Loud noises Favorite Food: (insert fave food) Least Favorite Food: (insert least fave food) Talent: Floromancy

ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ

A unique and quiet Heartslabyul freshman whose talent lies in fortune telling through flowers. Former heir to a clan of kitsune, he attends NRC in a disguise. Favors Lilia Vanrouge and the magicless prefect for some reason, but dislikes all other students.

Magicless Prefect

Ramshackle Dorm Name: Shion Yuukuro Birthday: October 21 Age: 17 Height: 5'6 Dominant Hand: Left Homeland: Unknown Family: Unknown Voiced by: Unknown Grade: Freshman Class: 1-A (No. 23) Club: No club (yet…) Best Subject: ____ Hobbies: Crocheting Pet Peeves: Having to restart their crochet projects Favorite Food: Burger Least Favorite Food: Kiwi Talent: Quick at writing long essays

ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ

The magicless human from another world, a former janitor turned prefect of an abandoned dorm. They attend Night Raven alongside a direbeast named Grim. They sometimes speak in a foreign language.

[themurderrose]

20 domestic omegaverse polyship prompts

building a nest together [bonus points if its their first non-heat nest]

going clothes shopping and trying on outfits for an event they’ll be attending together [bonus points if there’s some element of the outfit that’s subgender specific and perhaps one partner puts it on the other / scents it for them / go wild]

running them a bath with their favourite products [bonus points if it’s for preheat cramps]

getting the giggles together over something that isn’t that funny

giving the other a spoonful of the meal they’re cooking to test it out, holding their hand under their chin so nothing falls.

“i hope you don’t mind that i took that painting down, but i thought that picture of us looked a little better…”

“move your scarf, I wanna scent”

"did you just wash these sheets?" "i did." "they smell nice.  and they're still warm." [bonus points if one partner compliments the others’ nest building skills]

taking innocent peeks at their partner's phone every once in a while as they're scrolling [bonus points if there’s some juicy friend group goss that two of them get caught up in while the third rolls their eyes and sips coffee, reading the paper/book instead]

partner A has had a horrible week and partner B just brought them home their favourite treat

one of us has to get out of bed to make pancakes and it’s not going to be me ok just go and bring me nourishment [bonus points if this is either during heat or preheat or early on a Saturday morning]

partner B brings home flowers just for the hell of it, no it doesn’t matter that we’ve been together for x years, and they’ve never done this before, the flowers are pretty (and B got nostalgic for when A brought them flowers when they started together, and B had to pick some up)

keeping a calendar for all their appointments in the kitchen (Some flavour of : A buys a calendar and writes all the important dates they know for everyone with a note for the others to add in anything they missed. B writes in all the wacky holidays from the web.  C just goes in & starts doodling over all the marked dates!)

holding hands in a museum to pull them to the next exhibition

remembering little details when shopping for them (certain brands of tissues that don't irritate their nose, flavours of cough drops/lozenges they prefer, etc.) [bonus points if this is heat centric]

one reading aloud as the other is lying on their shoulder, dozing off to the sound of their voice

imagine your polyship picking out each others’ outfits for the day [bonus points if this is super coordinated for some event / wedding]

imagine your ot3 sharing a space where there’s plenty of room for them all to spread out, yet they still end up cuddling each other anyway

printing a photobook of all the photos they’ve sent in the group chat for their anniversary/xmas/big gift giving celebration

nest being filled with knitted/crocheted animals, none of them owning up to making them, all of them a little misshapen