#I'm scarred from fabric shopping

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

I propose that any blend, whether fiber, thread, fabric or clothing has to have an unmistakable word for "blend" in its name. (e.g. viscose blend fabric)

Any fiber mentioned in the name has to either be the most-used fiber in the blend, or be preceded by it, like an ingredient list. (e.g. wool-silk blend roving)

No fiber which constitutes 15% or less may be used in the name, but all fibers must be listed on label included with sale. (see: above meme)

If a process of creating fabric could misrepresent what fiber content is included (fulling, linen weave, etc.), or present as a different fiber at a glance (satin weave anything as a silk dupe), that process must be disclosed in an unmistakable way. (e.g. fulled acrylic-wool blend slippers, linen weave polyester pants)

And if any corporate type wants to whine that that's tedious:

1. Just as tedious as going CSI on wtf you're selling us

2. Absolutely none of these rules prevent you from using a single fiber type and just selling it to us as what it is.

What's up, I made a meme that I'm sure is extremely broad-audience and relatable

[embbarnes]

Cut Your Hair.

summary: You help Bucky cut his hair.

warnings: Comfort | Mentions PTSD & past trauma | Post!Endgame

a/n: I wanted to write a blurb exploring the emotions around his hair for fun. I imagine this time frame is after Endgame, you are living in his apartment in NY. I used a lot of symbolism because I love to include it in fics. Anywayy unedited, so ignore mistakes. wc: 2.3k

You returned to your apartment after a particularly fruitful grocery shopping trip, managing to get all the necessary items for your planned dinner. New York had been experiencing a notable shortage of certain food products recently, so you felt especially fortunate to have acquired all the ingredients on your list. The scarcity had made simple shopping trips feel like treasure hunts, with each found item a small victory.

As you entered the living space, your arms laden with bags full of your culinary prizes, you called out, "Bucky? I'm back!" Your voice carried a mix of excitement about your successful foraging and the slight strain of carrying multiple heavy bags. With a relieved huff, you practically dropped your burdens onto the kitchen counter, the plastic rustling as it settled. You looked forward to telling him of your success, but you hadn’t heard him reply.

The apartment remained eerily quiet in response to your call. The silence was unusual and slightly unsettling, given that Bucky was typically quick to greet you upon your return. Your brow furrowed in confusion and a hint of concern as you scanned the room, anxiety began to creep its way through your body while an assortment of negative thoughts flooded your mind. "Bucky?" you called out again, your voice tinged with a note of uncertainty.

Still, nothing.

Now you started to worry.

You cautiously maneuvered around the counter, your footsteps deliberately quiet as you navigated through the dimly lit living space. The short hallway stretched before you, leading to the bathroom and one of the bedrooms. Your heart raced with each step, the silence of the apartment amplifying every small sound. As you approached, a sliver of light caught your eye - the bathroom door was slightly ajar, a warm glow spilling out into the darkened corridor. A wave of relief washed over you, causing your tense muscles to relax ever so slightly. You exhaled deeply, your hand instinctively moving to your chest as if to calm your pounding heart.

"Bucky," you called out, your voice a mixture of relief and lingering apprehension, "Shit... you really scared me there." The words hung in the air, met only by an eerie silence. Seconds ticked by, and still, there was no response from behind the partially open door. A creeping sense of unease began to settle in the pit of your stomach as you stood there, waiting for a reply that didn't come.

"James?" Your voice quivered with concern as you gently rapped your knuckles against the door. Hesitantly, you pushed it open, the hinges creaking softly. The sight that greeted you made your heart ache in your chest. There he stood, hunched over the bathroom sink, his posture a blatant portrait of distress. His hands, knuckles white with tension, gripped the edges of the ceramic basin as if it were a lifeline. You worried his metal hand would break the fragile ceramic but it looked like he had more self control for the moment. Bucky's head hung low, curtained by the long strands of his hair that fell forward, obscuring his face from view. The absence of his shirt revealed the taut muscles of his back, adorned with long scars, each one rigid and fairly faded, but still there.

No matter what he did to try to scrap them away, they were still there.

Your eyes were drawn to his hair, the ends were jagged and uneven, as though hacked at in a moment of impulse or desperation. Littering the bottom of the sink were the casualties of this impromptu haircut: dark locks intermingled with the gleam of small fabric scissors, splayed against the white porcelain. The air hung heavy with an unspoken tension, leaving you frozen in the doorway, unsure of how to proceed.

"Bucky...what did you do?" You inquired softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hand moved with cautious deliberation, gently alighting on his shoulder. The moment your fingers made contact, you felt his muscles tense beneath your touch, a reflexive response to the unexpected contact. However, within seconds, the tension melted away as he seemed to recognize you.

Silence hung heavy in the air for what felt like an eternity. Bucky remained motionless, his gaze fixed downward, avoiding eye contact, but eventually he lifted his head ever so slightly. His icy eyes, brimming with an unspoken emotion, met yours in the reflection of the mirror before you. He looked so distressed, his face splotchy and flushed with an angry red, eyes were puffy and swollen from the tears had been running down his face before you came in. His bottom lip protruded slightly in a dejected pout, completing the picture of a man clearly grappling with some internal turmoil.

"What happened?" You prompted again, you kept your voice low and patient. Your words came out as a soothing murmur, not wanting to cause any distress to him, since he was clearly struggling. You felt his body tremble under your hand, your heart broke seeing him like this.

"Don't..." he began, his voice trembling with apprehension. He paused, swallowing hard as if to gather courage before continuing, "Don't be mad..." The words escaped his lips in a barely audible whisper, laden with fear. His entire demeanor spoke volumes, suggesting he was terrified of your potential reaction to something he had done or was about to reveal.

You felt your brow furrow involuntarily as you processed his words, your eyes instinctively seeking out his face once more. The fear etched across his features only deepened your concern.

"Why would I be angry?" you asked, your tone soft and reassuring. "You haven't done anything." Your words were meant to soothe, to dispel the cloud of anxiety that seemed to envelop him. However, your attempt at comfort appeared to have little effect.

He shook his head vigorously in response, the sudden movement causing several stray locks of hair to cascade from his head, pieces he had evidently cut himself - some still clinging stubbornly to his remaining hair.

"Because you cut your hair?" you asked, your voice a mixture of concern and curiosity. The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions.

He nodded weakly, sniffling to clear his nose. The gesture was small, but it spoke volumes about his emotional state. You sighed softly, the sound barely audible in the quiet room. You reached up and ran your fingers through his still long, but much shorter locks, noting how they now only reached his jaw in some spots, and past his shoulders in others. The texture was different, unfamiliar from the choppy cuts he gave to his hair, clearly indicating his anger towards it.

"You've let it grow out a bit," you observed, your tone careful and neutral. Your fingers continued their soothing motion, offering comfort without words. After a moment of contemplation, you spoke again, your voice soft and reassuring. "I'm not mad, you know. It’s your body, you can do whatever you want with yourself, remember?" You paused, considering your next words carefully. "Do you want some help with it? Maybe we could style it together, find a look you really love, instead of letting you stay like this."

He remained silent for a beat, contemplating your words with a furrowed brow. The weight of his long, unkempt hair seemed to press down on him, both physically and emotionally. An overwhelming desire to rid himself of this burden consumed his thoughts. He yearned to feel the liberating sensation of shorter hair, to shed the heaviness that had settled upon him like a thick, suffocating blanket. In his mind, cutting his hair felt liberating. He had been stripped of all bodily autonomy for so long, this was something he wanted to do. For himself.

His head inclined, giving a sharp nod. "Yes...yes, please..." he replied with a soft rasp, "Cut it all."

You were certainly no professional hairdresser, but with the assistance of a few hastily searched tutorial videos on YouTube, you managed to grasp the basic concepts and techniques. The shorter hairstyle he wanted alleviated a lot of pressure you had to make it perfect, so a quick cut and shave would be easy compared to any sort of specific styling. As he settled into the chair you pulled into the bathroom, you grabbed the scissors and let out a deep breath to calm yourself.

Carefully, you began the process of trimming away at his dark, lustrous locks, cutting the long pieces away with scissors first before you'd clean it with a buzzer. Each calculated snip was made carefully, regularly checking in with him to make sure he was still doing fine. You found yourself completely engrossed in the task, paying close attention to maintain an even trim.

The freshly cut strands danced through the air for a brief moment before gently descending to the cool tile floor of the bathroom. Upon contact with the ground, the severed locks curled and twisted, creating an abstract pattern around his feet. The contrast of the dark hair against the light-colored tiles made your heart throb, the meaning behind cutting his hair away was much deeper than any outside eye could comprehend.

You didn't notice his tears at first, but as more of his hair fell away, the evidence of his emotional turmoil became undeniable. His shoulders quivered beneath the weight of his feelings, the internal struggle becoming more visible to you. You maintained your composure, focusing on the task at hand, your fingers steady as they continued to work through his locks. Dark tear trails etched paths down his cheeks, struggling with handling it all on his own.

When you finally reached for the electric clippers, the soft click as you turned them on echoed in the silence of the bathroom. He closed his eyes then, a gesture of surrender or perhaps trust, allowing you to proceed with this final, most drastic stage of the cut. The gentle vibration of the buzzer filled the air, a constant, reassuring hum that seemed to ground you both in the present moment. Bucky gave the occasional sniffle, the emotional undertones of this act filled both of you.

With a final buzz, you switched off the clippers and gently placed them in the sink. Your fingers glided through his freshly trimmed hair, feeling the soft, short strands beneath your touch. The cut was perfect - a smile played on your lips as you admired your handiwork, you were proud of yourself. "Wow..." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, "You look just like that old photograph I have of you. It's like stepping back in time." Your words were soft and full of gentle admiration. Softly, you encouraged him to open his eyes, eager to see his reaction to his new look.

"What do you think, sergeant?" you asked, your voice tinged with anticipation as you waited for him to fully take in his reflection. As he gazed into the mirror, a profound sense of unfamiliarity washed over him. The face staring back was simultaneously familiar and foreign, he didn’t react like you expected but honestly…what did you expect? He looked disoriented and unsettled by his own reflection.

It felt so... strange, almost surreal. The sensation was akin to looking at a photograph of a long-lost relative, recognizing traces of familiarity but ultimately confronting the reality of a stranger. It felt like he were dreaming, seeing a resemblance of the man he once was - a version of himself that now seemed to belong to a distant, unreachable past.

The realization that this former self was now forever out of reach hit him with unexpected force. He knew he’d never be the person he was again, but seeing himself like this just…felt so sudden. Bucky felt the sick twinge of grief, as if he just lost a dear friend or a beloved family member, but the person he was mourning was his former self.

He had once cherished his former self, but that version of Bucky had long since vanished. HYDRA, black tendrils wrapped around him with its insidious grasp, had extinguished his essence, snuffing out his very being like a feeble, flickering ember desperately clinging to life in the face of an unforgiving winter storm.

Bucky found himself irrevocably altered. No longer was he the vibrant, spirited individual of his past, now reduced to nothing more than a charred remnant of his former self - a piece of blackened charcoal, devoid of the warmth and light that had once defined him. The flames of his identity, once burning bright with passion and purpose, had been mercilessly extinguished, leaving behind only the cold, lifeless ashes of who he used to be.

The cold consumed him, trapping him in a relentless, chilling embrace. Cryo never truly left him, the sensation continued to maintain its icy hold on him, refusing to let go. But, you...you were what he needed more than anything else in the world. You taught him what it was like to have a gentle touch, to be loved and cared for no matter what he did in his past.

You were patient.

You were loving.

You were nurturing.

You helped him throughout his long and dreary recovery, standing by his side throughout every visit to the doctor or hospital, the endless nights where he couldn’t sleep, the panic attacks that left his throat raw and eyes burning. When the days seemed darkest for him, you were there to thaw the ice that had frozen him for so long.

Winter slowly began to surrender to the bloom of spring, and you were the greatest force of nature he knew.

Bucky's voice emerged as a soft whisper after several minutes spent silently staring at his reflection in the mirror, the steady stream of tears cascading down his face had been completely unnoticed to him. You gently wiped the tears away, your thumbs tenderly brushing against his cheekbones as you dried them with care and affection.

“It’s perfect..”

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Cover images from Pinterest

[bunny-jpeg]

bunny love hiiiii, since i’ve been beyond satisfied with my last order at your bakery i’ve come again with more ! How about a chocolate cake with s’more and make in “on the house “ with SIR lewis hamilton

xx

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? then check out the menu! i'm always baking up smiles! as for this return customer, thank you, thank you, thank you for coming back! also mister lewis using that accent for evil, tsk, tsk, tsk. i hope you enjoy the fic!

chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + s'mores ("The accent gets to you, doesn't it?) + on the house: champagne (sugar daddy au) served by lewis hamilton

cw: smut/pwp, (slight) sugar daddy au, former mechanic!reader, cowgirl position, (slight) praise kink, couch sex

lewis knew he liked you the moment you got into his face, wagging a finger at him and said the words,

"if you fuck up my car again, hamilton. i will have your head!"

it had been a long time since someone was willing to bite back to sir lewis hamilton. the top dog of formula one, but there you were in greasy coveralls, your hair a mess and a look on your face that could kill. lewis knew he had to have you.

that felt like a long time ago, you had gone from mechanic to live-in girlfriend. you still worked, but at a local shop near where you two lived. when he said that you didn't need to work, you held your head high and told him you didn't want a large gap in your resume.

"i'm not your live in housekeeper." and you were determined to cover the cost of the streaming services you paid for, your own clothes and snacks on times off. he admired that, even though your wage as a small time mechanic couldn't cover close to the cost of the place you lived, you were stubborn enough to want to contribute something.

that didn't mean lewis didn't spoil you. when he washed the grease off your face and put you into something nicer you looked like the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

even the little scars along your arms from years of tinkering with cars, even the scar on your chin for an accident in your youth was cute enough for him to want to kiss.

he had come home for the summer break in the season, riding off the high of a successful weekend. he couldn't wait to get home to his girl. when he got through the door of the house you shared, he could smell something cooking on the stove.

with his bags by the door, he slipped his shoes off and padded through the house. he followed the scent of cooking meat.

your voice called to him, "i'm in here!" and he found you in front of the stove, checking on the noodles you were cooking.

he broke into a smile at the sight of you, "how very housewife of you." as he slotted himself behind you and wrapped his arms around you. chest pressed against your back, almost putting a little too much of his weight against you.

you tilted your head back to look up at him, "don't worry, you can do dishes." then kissed his chin. you two still were snarky at one another, but it was all wrapped in a deep affection for one another.

he chuckled, "of course, my love." he said as he leaned in further to kiss you on the cheek. he remained close to you while you put together lunch.

despite all the wealth and glory from formula one. it was nice to sit across from you and eat an easy to prepare meal. pasta sauce with ground beef and noodles with parmesan cheese. comfort after a long time apart.

it was domestic, even though the house you two lived in was beyond wealthy. you wanted to give what you could in your own way. lewis could drip you in diamonds and finer fabrics, but he'll always crumble to his knees for his favourite mechanic and her home cooked meals.

lewis one jokingly said that he was your sugar daddy when you moved in with him. the next day you got the job you had now. maybe there was a slight sugar daddy aspect to it, but he appreciated that you helped where you could. he didn't need any "sugar" from you, you were rather unimpressed when he waved any kind of money around. so maybe he did suck at being a sugar daddy in a way, but he always let you know that if you got tired of working. he was more than happy to support his little mechanic.

"and what happens when i get old?" you asked when he brought it up.

"then i'll be old too." he winked at you.

with dinner finished, you talked with lewis while he cleaned the dishes. you admired his backside while he got the plates into the dishwasher and rinsed out the pot used to boil the pasta.

when that was all finished, you got up to grab the bottle of wine from the fridge and two glasses. but as you were bent over to grab the bottle, you heard your lover's voice.

"do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day." he asked as he brushed up against your behind, those strong arms around you, his voice in your ear. you squirmed a little and he chuckled, "the accent still gets to you, doesn't it?"

you admired one time over drinks that you found his accent was one of the more attractive things about him. when he asked what was his least attractive quality you replied that it was messing up your cars. but the fact that you found his accent appealing stuck to the corner of his brain.

you closed the fridge door, with no wine in your hand. you turned in his arms and draped your arms over his shoulders. you pulled him for a kiss. after a moment you pulled away and asked, "i guess you want dessert more than wine."

he chuckled, "well, i wouldn't call you dessert. i'd call you the whole meal." his head dipped down to your neck and kissed across your skin as you held him.

this eventually led to the both of you on the couch, you looked at the television screen briefly and chuckled, "reliving your glory days, hamilton."

his lips crossed your cheeks once more then replied, "well, they're only my glory days because you were there." you stepped away from formula one and to a smaller shop because you didn't want a conflict on interest within the team or if lewis left the team.

in all fairness it felt nicer tinkering with mini vans and having a few days rather than a car that can go over 300mph with a few seconds of time to work on it.

"is this your weird way to seduce me to come with your to ferrari?" you asked as you watch him sit down. he was dressed in sweatpants and a black t-shirt now, wanting to get comfortable at home. you had your hands on your hips and you looked very sexy.

"of course not, but if you did." he shrugged, "i'd put in a good word for you."

you pulled off your tank top and shimmied out of your own sweatpants. you got in your lover's lap and kissed at his jaw, your hands buried in the t-shirt he wore. you said against his warmed skin, "right, right. i think you just liked it when i gave you shit all the time."

he chuckled, "no one does it like you, my love."

you said "true." and pulled at his t-shirt until he got off. soon you two were undressed, in nothing but socks and you straddling your lover's waist. your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you looked down at him, "how much did you miss me?"

"do you want the nice version or the true version?"

you held his jaw for a moment and dipped into a kiss before you responded, "give it to straight, hamilton."

"i hoped you were watching every race, and then every night i went back to my hotel. and i jerked off to photos of you." he responded, "i think i need to take some new ones. i don't even think you have those panties anymore."

you replied, "if they're the pair i'm thinking, it's because you tore them off of me after monaco. you couldn't wait and we did it in the care. i had to pray on the walk to the hotel room that no one would notice i wasn't wearing underwear."

he chuckled, "well." he guided you onto his cock and kissed at your pulse-point. he relaxed against you as he wrapped his arms around you. it was almost a protective feeling being held by him.

slowly you sank down on his cock and gripped onto his shoulders. you felt pleasure lick at your gut as you took all of him. the noise you made was erotic and made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

you two hotly made out with one another as the two of you moved against one another. you panted heavily between kisses, his soft lips against yours made a thrill run up you.

you were so cute, to sweet to him. you rolled your hips up and down, you felt the heat in your cheeks are you rode him. like you had done a million other times.

he held onto you and kissed at your shoulders. he groaned against you and basked in your warmth. the entire time felt hot, he finally got to touch and feel his perfect little mechanic.

"you feel good like this." he panted, "so good on top of me."

"just as i like it." you giggled, "i know you like looking at my body. i know i turn you on." you leaned in once more and said, "and, truthfully lewis, you turn me on too."

"i guess we're a perfect match then." he said before he pulled you into a hot kiss. his hands were placed on your hips once more and pushed his cock as deep as he could inside of you.

his entire body felt like a live wire, like when he raced, being intimate with you meant the world to him.

the clips continued to play and neither of you paid much attention to it. too wrapped up in one another to really care about much else.

"my little mechanic."

"my pain in the ass driver."

you came first, followed by him. you held onto him while he held onto you. your lips pressed together as you moved against him. you melted under his tough and felt amazing as the pleasure hit you like a wave.

"holy shit." you panted.

"i know." he said as he watched you continue to move your hips. milking you for all he was worth, "relax, love. relax." his voice was warm in your head.

you slowed down your pace and rested against him. your chin on his shoulder as he rubbed your back. he kissed your sweaty temple and his low voice close to you felt so good. the after tremors of orgasmic bliss felt good paired with his sweet praise.

this eventually lad with you two cuddling on the couch. the clips of lewis races played in the background as you two kissed. letting his hands explore your body.

"i wish i could take you to every race. you don't have to be a mechanic, i just want to see you there when i win." his voice was low.

"then win it all for me." you sealed your request with a kiss. you were the mechanic that could stand toe-to-toe with sir lewis hamilton. and while he was the billion dollar driver, with you he was sweeter than candy and more electric than a live wire.

as he kissed you once more, you felt comforted. loved, adored. you'd see if you could get some time off work to be with him after the summer break. if he was going to keep winning, it was only right for you to be there. <3

[lemoncrushh]

Scars

Summary: You have scars and are hesitant about letting Harry see you naked for the first time.

Warnings: body image issues (scars), smut - 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2920

A/N: This was a special request from an old mutual back in 2016 (I still think of you often hon, wherever you are). Reader fic with a very sweet and caring Harry.

It was date number five...but who's counting?

You and Harry had spent the entire afternoon together, going to lunch at your favorite cafe and then shopping. You'd been a bit surprised when he'd suggested it, but it had turned out to be one of the most pleasant days you'd ever had. You'd browsed antique shops, thrift shops and a vintage record store, rounding out the shopping at a small boutique that you'd passed earlier, finally stopping to give a dress in the window a second look.

"Go try it on," Harry suggested, nudging your arm.

"What?" you blinked, looking up at him. He gave you an encouraging smile.

"We've passed this store three times. You obviously like that dress. Go try it on."

You bit your lip and gave a shrugged. "It's okay. It's late. I should probably be heading home."

"Y/N," said Harry, "Go. It'll look beautiful on you."

With a hesitant grin, you nodded. Harry opened the door for you and you stepped inside the boutique, immediately scanning the room for the dress on display.

"May I help you?" a kindly looking woman asked.

"I-" you opened your mouth, but it was Harry that answered.

"She wants that dress in the window."

The woman smiled at both of you. "Ah yes, right this way."

You followed her to a round rack near the wall where she asked you your size. Pulling one of the dresses out, she handed it to you.

"Fitting room is in the back," she sang. "My name's Delores if you need anything."

"Thank you," you replied.

Harry walked with you to the back of the store, finding a floral upholstered chair to sit in while you went in the dressing room.

Trying on clothes was not your favorite thing to do. In fact, you loathed it most of the time. But when Harry had given you his million-dollar smile, insisting that you try the dress on, that you'd look beautiful it nonetheless, it had made you feel a little less self-conscious. You only hoped the dress covered your scars.

Standing in front of the mirror, after removing your bra, you ran your finger over your most prominent scar. The type of dress this was, you would definitely have to go braless. Letting out a deep breath, you pulled the dress over your head. As soon as the fabric fell over your hips, you knew. It fit you perfectly. Twisting in it in front of the mirror, making the skirt twirl, you felt pretty. The thin straps didn't sag, the bust of the dress hugged you the way you'd hoped it would. And no scars could be seen. With a silent giggle, you took the dress off, placing it back on the hanger.

Once you were dressed in your own clothes, you emerged from the fitting room. Harry looked up from his phone, his expression disappointed.

"Did it not fit?" he inquired.

"No, it did," you grinned. "I'm getting it."

"Oh. But I didn't get to see."

You chuckled, heading toward the register. "Sorry."

Delores came around the counter, beaming. "Did that work out for you, doll?"

"Yes," you said as she rang you up.

"Let me get that," Harry offered, attempting to produce his wallet.

You turned to glare at him. "No thanks."

"Please?"

You raised a brow. "It's fine. I got it."

Once you'd paid for your dress, Harry held the door open for you again, following you out to the sidewalk. When you reached Harry's car and he unlocked it, you nearly jumped when he grabbed your hand.

"Since it's getting late, what do you say to dinner?"

You blushed, looking down at the ground. "We already spent all day together."

Harry's face fell. "Are you saying you're tired of me?"

You shook your head and laughed. "Far from it. I just didn't want you to get tired of me."

Harry stepped closer, his other hand brushing a strand of hair from your hair and tucking it behind your ear.

"That's not gonna happen," he muttered.

Your skin tingled from his gentle gesture and his deep voice.

"So, dinner?" he asked again. "You could wear your new dress. I'd love to see you in it."

You sucked in your lips, ready to burst out with an ecstatic yes, but not wanting to seem to eager.

"Okay," you finally whispered.

Harry drove you back to your place so you could change. He waited on the sofa while you went to the bedroom to put on your dress. You twirled in front of the full-length mirror, giggling at yourself before opening the door. When you stepped into the living room, Harry gazed up at you, his mouth slowly stretching into a smile.

"You look amazing," he said sincerely, standing up to meet you. His eyes travelled down your body and back up again, sending even more tingles throughout your skin. "So pretty."

Harry put his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, then another on your lips.

"Thank you," you grinned, your hands on his chest. "So where are we going for dinner?"

Harry sighed, his fingers gripping you tighter. "'m gonna have a hard time thinking about food."

You laughed out loud, your wrists winding around his neck. "Is it really that effective?"

Nodding, his fingers slid up your back. Then he rested his forehead against yours. "You have no idea," he added with a groan.

You bit your lip, your eyes even with his, though he was focused on something else.

"Don't do that, love," he pouted.

"What?"

Harry lifted his head from yours then, his thumb grazing across your bottom lip.

"Biting this lip," he explained. "Drives me crazy when you do that."

You raised your eyebrows. "Seems I'm learning a lot of new things about you today."

Harry gave a sexy smirk, one of his hands running up your arm to your shoulder. "What else you wanna know?"

The color rose to your cheeks and you shook your head. "Never mind. Let's go eat."

Dinner was wonderful. You sat in a round corner booth in a dimly lit, intimate restaurant. After appetizers and a glass of wine, Harry became very flirty, leaning in to place soft kisses on your neck and shoulder. His hand found your knee under the table, staying there for almost the rest of the next course, occasionally giving it a little squeeze. You smiled at him, covering his hand with yours. The way he looked at you made you warm all over, and you knew it wasn't just the wine.

By the time you'd finished eating, to say you were ready to go back to your place would be an understatement. Sometime during dessert, Harry's hand had begun traveling up your thigh, pushing your dress up just slightly. You were feeling a bit light-headed, knowing where this was surely going to lead.

You were nervous. So many questions had begun running through your mind. Was five dates too soon? What exactly was too soon? You'd already kissed him several times, the end of date four already coming close to a make-out session. You knew you wanted to sleep with him. He was sweet, fun to be with and extremely sexy. The anticipation was already getting to you. So, what were you nervous about?

Your scars.

No man had seen you naked since your surgery. You were scared about what he would think - or do - when he saw them.

"Ready to go?" you heard Harry ask, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Sure," you blinked.

The car ride home was almost unbearable. Your insides trembled with desire, but your head was still running a mile a minute with worry and doubt. As you walked to your door, Harry took your hand, threading his fingers through yours before bring it to his mouth to kiss it. Then he stood behind you, his arms around your waist as you inserted the key. You bit your lip as you struggled to get the door unlocked.

"Stop it," Harry growled, his chin landing on your shoulder.

"Stop what? I'm having trouble with the key."

"That lip."

"Oh," you stifled a giggle, finally pushing the door free.

Harry released a breath, letting go of you long enough to enter the apartment. He stood to the side as you shut the door, watching you almost intently. Licking your lips, you tossed you bag on the sofa before turning to face him. Within two strides he'd crossed the room, taking your face in his hands. His mouth captured yours in an intoxicating kiss, soft and gentle at first before dragging his tongue across your bottom lip. You sighed, melting into him.

"I suspect this is when I usually leave," he conveyed, his eyelids heavy.

You nodded, your hands resting on his arms. "Yeah."

"But I don't really want to," he added.

You swallowed hard. "I don't want you to either."

His jaw tightening, Harry slid his hands down your shoulders, his fingers looping around the straps of your dress. You felt yourself tense up involuntarily and it wasn't lost on Harry.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed.

"Do you wanna go to the bedroom?"

You nodded silently. Harry took your hands, gesturing toward the bedroom with his head.

"Lead the way."

You bit your lip again, this time causing Harry to grit his teeth. "And stop fucking doing that."

You chuckled and pulled his hand, guiding him to the bedroom. As soon as you closed the door, he pushed you against it, his mouth covering yours. You made a sound, but not in protest. His body pressed against yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His kisses were hungry, his tongue dipping in your mouth repeatedly. Your entire body was on fire, and you knew you were only moments away from being disrobed.

Harry's hands roamed up your sides, cupping your breasts in your dress. The thin fabric did nothing to hide the firmness of your nipples as he ran his thumbs across them. You released a moan against his mouth, your fingers grasping at his hair.

"I want you, baby," he confirmed when he let go of your mouth, his eyes burning into yours.

You slowly lowered your arms from around his neck, sliding your hands down his chest. Harry closed his eyes softly as you did so, the touch apparently something he liked. His eyelids fluttering open, his lips parted slightly, he grabbed hold of your dress straps again. When you shuttered this time, Harry titled his head.

"What's wrong?"

"Um..." you stumbled. "It's...it's not...you."

Harry raised his eyebrows, stepping back. "We don't have to do this," he said.

You shook your head. "No, I want to."

Harry stared at you, his gaze silently willing you to speak.

"I...um...had surgery a couple years ago. I still have some...scars. And...I guess I'm a little self-conscious about them," you finally explained. You felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of you.

"Oh, love, it's alright," Harry cooed, stepping closer to you again. "Where are they?"

You dropped your head, gesturing to your chest. "Here."

Harry lifted your chin with his finger, forcing you to look at him.

"Listen to me, Y/N," he said tenderly, "If you don't want me to see them, I'll understand. But just know that I don't mind. You're beautiful. Your body is beautiful."

You felt yourself relax a bit at his words. You sighed before biting your lip, which you released immediately. Harry shook his head.

"You're gonna drive me fucking crazy, baby," he muttered.

"Sorry," you grinned.

"C'mere," he beckoned as he backed into the bed behind him.

He sat down, pulling you to stand between his legs. Running his hands up and down your hips, he lightly kissed your stomach.

"Tell me how I can make you comfortable," he requested.

"What?" you asked in surprise, your hands on his shoulders.

"I want to make you feel good, baby," said Harry. "But first I need you to trust me. So tell me what to do. Would you like the light off?"

You considered his question for a moment. Having the light off would make it easier. He wouldn't see your scars. But then you wouldn't see him either.

"Maybe....um...maybe just the lamp?" you pointed to the small lamp on the bedside table.

Harry turned his head to look at it. "Okay."

You walked over to the table, switching the lamp on before turning off the overhead light. It gave the room a warm glow.

"That's nice," Harry remarked. "What else?"

You shrugged. "I don't know."

"Do you wanna lie down?"

"Okay."

You kicked off your shoes before crawling on the bed, your head falling back on the soft pillow. You heard the sound of Harry's boots hitting the floor as he climbed up next to you, propped up on his elbow. His hand glided across your abdomen, his face inching closer to yours until he kissed you.

As his lips left a trail of kisses down your neck, he shifted on the bed, his leg between yours. You could feel his erection pressing against you while his mouth met your shoulder, just next to your strap, though he didn't move it.

Suddenly his hand on your stomach moved down, finding the hem of your dress. You gasped when his fingers met your panties, pushing them to the side. The pads of his fingers rotated on your clit, causing your breaths to quicken while his mouth still assaulted your neck and shoulders. When his lips came in contact with your dress strap again, Harry lifted his head and looped his other hand through the strap.

"Do you trust me?" he inquired.

Your eyelids were heavy from desire, the sensation of his fingers on your wetness making you see stars.

"Yes," you nodded.

Harry grinned, gently pulling the strap down off your shoulder, releasing your arm through it. He then continued to kiss your shoulder, moving down slowly to your chest. You closed your eyes when you knew he had to be reaching a scar. But he said nothing. He only kissed.

Quicker than you were ready to admit, he stopped his other hand, hovering over you to lower your other strap. His eyes were focused on yours then, with such intensity it almost made you want to cry. After he pulled your arm free from that strap, he finally lowered his head again, kissing your bare skin. Before you knew it, he'd grabbed the hem of the dress and pulled it down further until removing it completely. Lying in only your underwear, you gazed up at him, trying to read his expression.

"You're so beautiful," he said.

You blinked rapidly, biting your lip once more.

"Gimme that," Harry demanded, pulling your lip free with his thumb. Then he captured it between his lips, sucking gently. You let out a mewl, grasping at his shirt.

"Mmm...baby..." he breathed. "Do you still trust me?"

"Yes," you said with more affirmation than before as you watched him slide your panties down your hips.

"Do you want me?"

"God, yes."

Harry sat up, reaching behind himself to grab the back of his shirt, pulling it over his head before quickly returning to your mouth. You ran your hands down his back, bucking your hips against his. He groaned, the restraint of his jeans unacceptable.

Standing from the bed, he produced a condom from his wallet before removing the jeans quickly, as well as his boxers. You watched as he rolled the condom on, then positioned himself over you. His eyes never left yours as you felt the sting of him entering you. You grabbed his waist to guide him inside, where you wanted him the most. You saw his eyelids flutter as he pulled out almost fully before pushing in again.

"Baby..." he cried when he began to thrust faster.

You opened your legs wider for him, making him lift your thigh to get a better angle. The feeling was incredible, and though you didn't want it to end soon, you knew at this rate it would.

Harry cursed as he pumped into you, reaching deep inside. You cried out his name, climbing closer to your peak. Finally when he managed to tap your most sensitive spot again and again, your body shook, erupting with orgasm. Harry soon followed, his body stilling over yours as he came, a low groan rising from his throat.

"Jesus," he exhaled, collapsing on top of you.

You held him for a few minutes, your hands tickling his back. When he finally lifted his head, he planted a kiss on your mouth, and once again traveling down your neck and shoulders. When he reached your chest, he stopped, studying your scars for a few seconds. Ever so gingerly, Harry lifted a finger, tracing them with care. Then he lowered his mouth again, repeating the tracing with kisses.

You thought you heard him mumble something before he looked at you, but you couldn't make it out.

"What?" you asked, curious.

"I said you're wonderful, and beautiful, and you need to know that. So I'm going to make it my mission to make sure you always do."

With a slight smile, you pulled him to you, kissing his lips with fervor. Because you also wanted to make it your mission that he always knew you appreciated him.

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK | PATREON

[ne-videl]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞

♡

yandere Ayato x fem reader

there's something wrong with your employer.

yandere, mentions of violence & kidnapping, stalker Ayato, non-consensual touching (not sexual, just our man being clingy), reader has a pretty low self-esteem, sfw this time I guess??, poor english

word count: ~2k

a/n: alright I decided to procrastinate and ignore my study, and what's a better way to do it than posting some more of my stuff?

p.s. лисичка солнце как ты меня находишь?? теперь мне стыдно за то что я все никак не могу дописать главу про нёвиллета и ничего не придумала про венти 🤧🤧

enjoy.

bright sun of Inazuma shone on the kimono shop on the corner of the street, filling its visitors with pleasant laziness, and the hostess herself with a desire to end the stuffiness of the day as soon as possible.

you hung your haori on the back of a chair covered with bunch of fabric and exhaled wearily.

it's only noon yet, and you're already listening to insults from a well-to-do girl after announcing that her outfit won't be ready at least until the next evening.

"and besides, with your appearance, I would be ashamed to even look people in the eye!" – the client left, slamming the door irritably. the bell on the door rang plaintively.

"why get personal...?" – you rubbed the bridge of your nose with another sigh, while your gaze slid to the dusty mirror.

impassive glass showed a young woman. always sad eyes, hands covered with calluses and small scars from work. slightly disheveled bangs framing a tired face.

"no matter what, it's still you." – your reflection replied mockingly.

you knew yourself that you weren't that beautiful. there was a little chance to notice you in a crowd, "unremarkable" was the word that suited you the most. the only bright detail on you was, perhaps, a smear of red lipstick on your dry lips. gloomy appearance and an overly calm personality did not add to your attractiveness either. but you were a reliable and practical person, and therefore at least you had a successful career as a tailor.

summer in Inazuma was a nice season for the likes of you: time of festivals and celebrations, banquets and parties of nobles. sometimes you wanted to be in the shoes of your clients yourself: a charming, cheerful young lady choosing among a string of colorful fabrics the one that would suit her new luxurious outfit.

but, unfortunately, you were just a gloomy mistress of a sewing workshop, overwhelmed with work in the hot season.

the long-suffering doorbell, which had to endure a lot of tantrums and dissatisfied cries from visitors today, once again tinkled plaintively, forcing you to come out of your thoughts and turn around.

tall gentleman dressed in expensive white clothes stood in front of the counter. gentle, beautiful face was decorated with a friendly smile and a mole under his lips. at first glance it wasn't difficult to understand that someone very important was in front of you. you were even a little embarrassed, just a little bit: he, bright and cheerful, looks at your modest figure, dressed in a dark, simple kimono.

looks without taking his eyes off.

"lady seamstress? good day. I'm here with a business proposal for you." – the man came closer, still smiling. – "you see, my sister happened to visit your workshop a short time ago."

you tilted your head to the side, scratching your chin. the man in front of you surely looked familiar, for some reason. so it should not be very difficult to remember some pretty young lady with blue hair, from whom the same aura of aristocracy and prosperity would emanate.

"I remember something like that. you must be lady Ayaka's older brother?" – you looked at the supposed head of the Yashiro commission with an impassive look. you're too tired to be surprised by anything, and after all, important people have visited you before. if anything, you certainly had no equal in skill.

"yes, indeed. you are very observant, [name]." – you raised your eyebrow: you couldn't remember telling your name to Ayaka. well, it's not like it really matters, right?

your strange visitor continued to speak with an unnerving gleam in his purple eyes.

"as you have already understood, my name is Kamisato Ayato. I would like to offer you to work at our mansion."

____*:･ﾟ✧

"it's beautiful. I like it." – the younger Kamisato was looking at the sleeves of the kimono with satisfaction while you, now her personal tailor, pinned the hem with pins.

"but, I would like to ask you something, [name]." – you raise your head, looking up at your lady. – "you make such beautiful things. why don't you ever wear them yourself? I always see you in such inconspicuous colors. no bright fabrics, no embroidery."

you get up from your kneeling position, your scarred hands concentrating on straightening the fabric while you mumble without looking up from your work.

"you see, milady, there are people like you and people like me. beautiful things are meant for beautiful people, for important ones: who look good in gold embroidery and silk hemlines." – you look up at Ayaka, narrowing your eyes a little. – "people like me don't wear such clothes. besides, I don't have the looks to wear bright fabrics."

you walked over to the table, adjusting your black haori and assessing the work you've done. kimono suits your lady, who is currently looking down in embarrassment, realizing the huge difference in your statuses.

"ah, I also wanted to know..." – Ayaka swallows, averting her eyes and changing the subject. – "you're going to the festival, aren't you? I'd like to do your hair, if you don't mind."

you answered as calmly as usual, stating the fact.

"I have nothing to wear. and no one to go with." – calloused fingers unconsciously run through your hair, as if you could not imagine someone gathering them into a beautiful hairstyle.

"how is that? what about my older brother?" – the younger Kamisato bats her eyes with confusion.

"master? why would he?" – you tilted your head to the side in genuine surprise.

"wait, I remember exactly, brother said that you will go to the festival with him." – you smiled wearily, as if Ayaka was a child who blurted out some nonsense.

you? with him? you'd rather cut off your own finger than believe it.

you felt your master's hands resting on your shoulders.

"that's right, you're coming, and you're coming with me. I'll take care of the outfit, and I'll do your hair too." – Ayato glanced at his sister and continued talking. it seemed to you that he was standing a little closer than he should have been: at least you heard his voice right next to your ear. – "are you done here? can I borrow you for a while, [name]?"

you just nodded cautiously, wary that your master still had his hands on your shoulders. and the fact that you could clearly feel his hot chest pressed against your back.

"eavesdropping is bad, brother!" – that's right, eavesdropping is bad. and you could only think just how much did he hear.

your walk down the corridor was in silence: you didn't want to speak until you were asked, and apparently he didn't want to ask.

"master," you finally spoke up, tired of the suffocating silence, – "why would you need to accompany me to the festival?"

Ayato gave you a look with his cunning lavender eyes and replied with an unchanging smile.

"because I want to."

"what about clothes? you know, I feel quite good in what I usually wear." – you raised your voice slightly, sincere confusion shone in your eternally tired eyes, – "and my hair? why would you need to-"

Ayato bent down, holding a strand of your hair between his fingers.

you saw him kiss your hair, felt his hot breath on your face.

"because. I. want. to."

that night, as at all nights before in this estate, you felt like you were being watched.

and they didn't take their eyes off for even a second.

____*:･ﾟ✧

summer passed quickly: time for banquets, bright festivals and celebrations ended.

you always finished this usually noisy and busy season with a sense of accomplishment, although, of course, you had less work than usual this summer.

you thought you loved to work. at least your hands were always busy with something: fixing someone's obi, making a sample for the store's assortment or another order. to live you need money, and to have money you need to work. so you've been working as long as you can remember.

that's why it was a surprise to find yourself sitting and doing nothing. Thoma did the mending of clothes and other simple work, and new things, as it turned out, were not needed too often by your masters. so all that remained was to drink tea with them and walk around, feeling guilty for your rather big salary.

archons, it's like you're not a tailor but a friend for them.

on the day when you were ready to climb the wall from idleness – such a seemingly unusual thing for you in the past – you finally decided to visit your employer.

Ayato perked up as soon as you appeared at the door of his office.

"master." – you bowed briefly, looking at him with your eternally tired eyes.

"what can I do for you, dear?" – lord Kamisato, realizing that you were here on a business matter, continued with an impenetrable smile, – "is there something you're not satisfied with? if you don't like the food or the clothes, then I'll immediately-"

you shook your head no, clenching your hands nervously, and spoke. there was a tiny bit of embarrassment in your usually calm voice.

"you see, master," – you swallowed nervously, – "I'm a little worried that I don't really have anything to do."

under Ayato's confused gaze, you continued, explaining what you meant.

"I've been working as long as I can remember myself, and when you offered me to work for you, I expected a higher level of workload." – you exhaled.

"I think I feel guilty for sitting around all day. at least let me fix the servants' clothes."

Ayato scratched his chin while his purple eyes seemed to drill a hole in you. you wanted to leave, to end this conversation as quick as possible. you've never been very comfortable in the presence of your employer. you felt the urge to run away to lady Ayaka and distract yourself with idle conversations, or embroidery – with anything.

"no, no, dear, that won't do. I can't let your pretty hands do that." – your gaze dropped to your rather elegant, but scarred and callused hands. not "pretty" at all.

"then," – you sighed, – "then I'm asking for your dismissal. in that case, it would be better for me to return to my shop in the city. I can't sit around all day, master."

pen crunched in Ayato's hands and fell onto the countertop, breaking in half.

you couldn't see him get up from the table before you felt his hot arms wrapped around your waist in a strangleingly tight grip. gloved finger gently stroked your cheek, outlined the edge of a dark circle under your eye.

seeing in your gaze the absolute misunderstanding of what is happening, commissioner Yashiro only smiled gently.

"[name], sweet, sweet [name]. no matter how beautiful a kimono is, if you lost your legs you won't be able to wear it, don't you think? I would recommend that you don't even think about leaving me. besides, Ayaka will be sad. we all got so attached to you."

Ayato giggled sickly, stroking your hair.

it's time to start preparing for the wedding.

____*:･ﾟ✧

[name]. sweet, adorable [name].

quiet and calm woman living on a street corner. completely unnoticeable in a noisy crowd. smoothly, smoothly her hair flutters in the wind. scarred, thin fingers hold the bundle of fabric tightly.

last name is unknown.

date of birth is unknown.

presumably an orphan.

owns a sewing workshop in the city.

not married.

"is this really all that has been found out?" – Ayato puts down the papers, staring intently at the servant who just nods nervously.

"I see. you may leave."

it's probably a good thing she doesn't have a family. no one would look for her if, say, he decided to kidnap her.

any other person would not have noticed her dark silhouette among the noisy streets. would not have remembered the features of her tired face. would not have made inquiries, looking into her past, find out her schedule, send people to monitor and report to him where and with whom she was. any other wouldn't have memorized what she likes and what she doesn't like, and what time she goes to bed.

anyone else wouldn't, but to commissioner Yashiro, she was the most precious person in the world.

ah, she's so diligent! every time Ayato sees his charming seamstress on the street, she always carries some bundles of fabrics, or in the shop, always busy.

today [name] is also working hard.

hiring her at the manor was the right decision: it meant always having her in sight, by his side. whether it was trying on another suit, when he could feel the light touches of her calloused hands sending euphoric shivers down his back, or just talking over tea – being in the company of a gloomy tailor was great.

humans are greedy, selfish creatures by nature. Ayato was no exception–a man of his status could afford everything and even more. and at the moment, his "everything" was her.

sweet, sweet [name].

slipping into her bedroom in the middle of the night has already become a familiar, routine activity. yukata fell off her shoulder, exposing her skin, while she slept, wrapped in a blanket and quietly snoring.

Ayato carefully, so as not to wake her up, sat down next to her and stroked her hair.

of course, so far they are just a worker and an employer.

"but not for long." – he whispered to himself.

you've always wanted to be in the shoes of your clients, haven't you, my dear? to be a noble lady dressed in luxurious silks?

well, you don't have to worry, your wish will come true soon. you won't mind becoming the wife of the head of the Yashiro commission, right, [name]?

I'm very very sleep deprived I wanna scream cry and throw up

bye!!

[the-kr8tor]

Could you do fluffy hobbies reaction to reader having like stretch marks or scars stuff like that?

(Sorry my English isn’t good)💗

Thank you for the lovely request, angel! Hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, wrote with a female reader in mind but no pronouns used. Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie comes home tired, in one piece but absolutely knackered. He feels his muscles are about to fall out of his bones from the amount of swinging he did throughout the evening. Unfortunately he also had to patrol into the early hours, thanks to the vulture who decided committing crime at dawn is the perfect time to do that. The sun already rose, bathing Spider-Man in its glow.

He finally reaches the houseboat, opening the living room's window, Hobie finds you curled on his lumpy settee, the entire place clean and free from stray mechanical parts. He's incredibly thankful for your help, but he can't help his guilt eat at him. He only wishes that he could've helped, or at least told you it wasn't necessary, but knowing you, you would've had a way in making him give in, especially when it comes to taking care of him.

Just the sight of you makes his heart swell ten fold. Hobie has missed you dearly, he's been so busy with his responsibilities that you haven't seen each other for an entire week, only having a few minutes in the day to talk, which isn't enough for the both of you. That's probably why you've waited for him to get home, ending up sleeping on his couch tired from cleaning and waiting for him.

Hobie sighs, he's already thinking of a way to thank you and make up for lost time. Walking closer, he blinks wide awake at your outfit. Or his outfit for that matter, you're wearing his old band shirt, its color fading. His boxers reveal your legs, skin on full display.

Curled like a shrimp, you groan awake at the sudden presence. Feeling you stir, Hobie takes his mask off to not scare your half asleep brain. Silently, he sits down on the floor, facing your sleepy face. You slowly open your eyes, smile spreading over your lips once your bleary eyes adjust.

"Hi" you say softly like you're trying not to wake up the rest of the city. Feeling for his gloved hand, your hand blindly reaches for him.

"Love," Hobie helps you halfway, bringing his hand over to yours, you relax once more when he cups his palm atop your own. "You look bloody fit right now"

You snort, "even if I drooled all over your pillows?"

He brings his free hand over to your upper thigh, absentmindedly rubbing your skin. Chuckling, Hobie squeezes it for good measure. "I was talking 'bout your little outfit, did you go shopping in my wardrobe?"

You wake up immediately, insecurity filling you, sitting up, you grab the blanket you've kicked off in the middle of the night to tuck your legs under it. "Sorry, should've asked first"

Hobie's brows furrowed, "you don't have to, oi" he notices your downturned gaze, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing, how's the patrol? You didn't get hurt, right?" You play with the frayed edges of the knitted blanket.

"'m fine, just tired" he takes your hand again, softly, he interlocks his fingers with yours. "Love, what's wrong? You suddenly flipped"

"I'm– it's nothing, just realized I have morning breath"

"You know for a fact I don't care 'bout that. I woke up to that a hundred times before, kissed you in the morning a hundred more. You can talk to me." he ducks to meet your gaze. His mind rushes through several thoughts, nothing good out of all of them.

You make yourself smaller on the couch. He waits while you collect your thoughts. "I-I've got stretch marks on my thighs, sorry" hiding your legs under the blanket. Maybe you should've stayed in your long trousers.

Hobie sighs in relief, cupping your thigh over the scratchy fabric. "Lovey" he says softly, staring deep into your eyes. "It's a part of you, even if you've got scales under there I'll still love every inch of you"

"This?" He squeezes your thighs for extra emphasis "there's nothing wrong with it or you, and anybody who says otherwise can kiss my arse"

You laugh, music to his ears. "Thank you, I needed to hear that"

"I've got stretch marks too. Nothin' to be ashamed of, yeah?"

"Yeah" you nod, smiling softly, laying your head atop his shoulder. Hands splayed over his back in an embrace. He reciprocates immediately, rubbing softly over your tensed muscles.

Hobie lifts you up in one swift movement, you gasp at the sudden increase in height. "Let's get you properly tucked in bed"

"Will you join me?" You say into his neck.

"Of course, after a quick shower. I reek"

"I don't care, you smell great to me"

He laughs, "sure, whatever you say, gorgeous" Hobie slaps your butt cheek for good measure.

[gothic-aesthetic-gal]

Old Scars (Part 1)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏

I stared despairingly at the huge stack of paperwork my line manager had just slapped down on my desk. I sighed and bit the inside of my cheek. None of my male co-workers had to deal with her extra work. This was such bullshit.

"Ah, you are a life saver, (y/n). What would I do without you?"

Her own work, probably, I thought to myself, sighing in exasperation as she left me to my souless cubicle.

By the time i'd finished up, it was getting cold out. After taking a detour to try and stave off the inevitable return to my shitty apartment, I found myself in front of a particularly expensive shop. My feet were aching from the heels my backwards regional manager insisted on the female admin staff wearing and my head hurt from the tight bun my hair was scraped into. His smirk was etched into my brain, as were his vile words on his latest visit.

"You're a very attractive young lady, even with your face like that. Your body makes up for it."

I felt pure rage rising up again at the memory. It was the way he's said it as though he truly believed it was a compliment. The laughter of my coworkers rang in my ears. To them it was all a big joke and I was just too uptight to appreciate it.

What I wouldn't give to see the area manager humbled one day... but that was pure fantasy and I knew it. I wondered what he'd buy with his overinflated christmas bonus this time, while we were all given a meeting to explain why they couldn't justify a minor pay rise to ease the cost of living crisis in Gotham.

The twinkling lights of the high end window displays were a beautiful contrast to the bleary grey outside, and after another hellish day in the purgatory which was the cubicle farm, my heart warmed a little. Everything in the store was definitely well out of my meagre price range, but the inner child in me was drawn in to look at all the pretty evening dresses and jewellery. I shrugged to myself, figuring there's never any harm in window-shopping and a little indulgent fantasy. Even if I could afford any of the opulent dresses, half of them were really ball gowns, and what events was I ever invited to where you'd need a dress like that? No, those sort of parties were for Gotham's social elite - charity fundraisers, galas and that sort of thing, no doubt.

I was half expecting a staff member to immediately spot me in my regular civilian garb and herd me back out of the door like a stray dog but they seemed to be dealing with a particularly difficult customer at the tills. She was waving her arms around and pulling a "do you know who my husband is?".

I stifled a laugh at the image of her, in her ridiculous fur coat shouting frantically and looking like she was about to give herself a anyeurism, if the prominent vein on her forehead was anything to go by. I turned away from her soap operatics and back to the rails of clothes in front of me. I gently touched the fabrics, marvelling at the softness of the richest velvet. Gazing at cool silk like rippling water; nothing like the cheap imitation the rest of us were accustomed to. I got drawn into my own little world imagining who might wear each dress and for what occasion.

"Can I help you with something?"

The voice pulled out the rug on my little escape instantly. I felt anxiety rising in my chest but resolved not to panic completely.

"Oh, I was just browsing..." I said, faking the best dismissive tone I could.

"You're sure, I'd be more than happy to help. Do you want to try anything?" She pressed, a friendly tone rather than the suspicion I had anticipated.

Perhaps my work suit was giving a higher-end impression than I had realised... or maybe she was new here.

"This one is particularly lovely, don't you think?" She gestured to the garment I unknowingly had a hand on, pausing as she'd approached. She wasn't wrong, it was a rich purple, ridiculous really, with layers and layers of tule skirting, but somehow the fine cut and quality of the fabric, and the detailing made it look classy rather than like something out of 'my big fat gypsy wedding'.

When was I ever going to get the chance to try on a literal ball gown? I decided to play into it, after all, I could always say I needed to go away and review my options. They couldn't make me buy it.

"It is lovely," I murmured.

"Do you want to try it on?"

"If it isn't too much trouble..."

Before I knew it, I was being whisked into a dressing room. The shop girl came whirling in with the dress and began unfastening it for me.

"Shoe size?" She asked briskly.

I hurriedly blurted out my answer and she dashed back onto the floor.

I kicked off my uncomfortable work heels and removed my blazer, skirt and scarf. Somehow I felt even more like an imposter standing there in just my undergarments and a pair of tights. I hurriedly pulled the dress up and held it in place. Before I knew it, she'd returned and began fastening me up at the back.

I gasped, both from the air being pushed out of my lungs as she cinched the hidden corsetry, and in awe at what I saw in the mirror. I had never had particularly wonderful self-image, but since the accident, I'd really shrunk into the background. I had always been shy, but i'd become a total wallflower these days. I hated the public-facing parts of my job - if it was telephone or email correspondence, people couldn't react in their myriad shitty ways to my facial scarring, but sometimes I was on front desk duty. Those were the worst days for me.

She made a minor adjustment to my hair, pulling a few strands loose around my face. To my surprise, she hesitated as she saw my scars up close, but didn't recoil, or pull more hair out to try and hide them. Her delicate fingers lingered for a moment, hovering above where my eyebrow was split into three by the forks of red lightning which were still deeply scored into my skin. I had mostly made my peace with it, but it was other peoples' reactions to my face that caused me the most pain. The grimaces, the staring, looking startled, regarding me with pity, strangers asking me what happened, it could all just be too damn much some days. It was a rare and beautiful thing to have someone not react negatively in some way.

I knew I was lucky to still be in the land of the living, and that I was in remarkable shape considering what happened that day, but it had left an inescapable mark. I anxiously ran my fingers over my temple, over the metal plate holding my skull together somewhere beneath the skin. She pulled her own hand back away slowly.

"You look beautiful, miss," she smiled with a genuine warmth that made me begin to believe it. It seemed as though she could sense my sudden swell of insecurity.

The shop girl was young, couldn't be more than sevetneen or eighteen, and I prayed that she somehow retained her gentleness in a city as ugly as Gotham.

"Thank you," I said, tearing up a little.

The dress itself was surprisingly lightweight and not like some kind of Victorian horror complete with a hoop skirt. Instead, it looked quite modern, and had a lot of volume in the skirt due to the layers of tulle fabric, which meant that you could still dance with ease. I did a little twirl for good measure, watching how it flowed and moved around my form. The shop girl smiled at my childlike delight.

Unfortunately, my elation was shattered in an instant. A chorus of screams and panicked shouts, followed by a spray of gunfire hit us like a slap to the face. The shop girl's eyes widened in confusion and panic, and I grasped onto her arm to steady myself. We strained our ears, trying to make out what exactly was happening. My brain was struggling to make the jump from the moment I had just been experiencing to the very real danger we were now thrust into.

After a couple of agonising seconds, there was another round of shots, and I heard a gruff male voice shout;

"Everybody get down!"

"Try to stay calm," I whispered, my own voice shaking.

I herded us into the corner of the booth and desperately gestured for her to undo the corset, not wanting to have to run for my life in the stupid dress. I could hear crashing and footsteps, as though the place was being ransacked and bit the inside of my cheek as the girl shakily tried to loosen the cord for me.

"Check in the back, we don't want anyone calling the cops!" came a voice which sounded unsettlingly close by.

Suddenly, someone burst through the door into the dressing room. We froze, praying whoever it was, wouldn't round the corner, but sadly it was too late. The scraping metallic sound of the curtains of each booth being flung aside echoed around the room. I counted each one, feeling as though my heart had stopped beating altogether, sick with anticipation. They were going left to right, and would reach us soon enough.

The curtain to our booth was torn to the side, and an enormous man stood in the light. The shop girl let out a yelp of terror as she huddled behind me with her head in her hands.

"Found two hideaways!" He yelled out, lurching forward to grab at us.

In a blind panic, my body blocking him from the terrified girl behind me, I kicked and struck out like a feral street cat stuck in a trap. I got a few solid kicks in but was ultimately not match for the man towering over us.

"Quit struggling you stupid bitch," he spat, striking me across the face.

Dazed, and with my eye stinging already, I felt another pair of hands grasp me and haul me out into the open. The barrel of a gun was quickly jammed into the small of my back.

"Stop causing trouble if you want to live," he hissed.

A third figure appeared and roughly forced the girl to her feet as well.

"This one looks so scared she might piss herself," he chuckled.

"Leave her the fuck alone," I muttered through gritted teeth.

"Ooo, you got a mouth on you, huh, rich girl?" Said the one holding me at gunpoint.

"Mm the boss ain't gonna like that, maybe we should gag her," one of his companions snorted.

"Nah, leave it. I wanna see what he does if she gives him any back talk," crowed the third one.

They marched us out onto the marble of the shop floor. Both shoes had come off the moment i'd started to struggle against our attackers and the tiling felt cold as ice beneath my unsteady feet. I saw that there were three other men holding up the cashiers and the handful of customers as they huddled together in one corner.

"Look what we found in the back," announced the biggest of the three men, shoving us forward.

It was only then that I noticed everyone's attention seemed to be drawn to one man, a man who I couldn't yet see, on account of him facing away from us as he nonchalantly rifled through the nearest rack of clothing.

He was a fairly tall man, perhaps a little over six feet, wearing a long coat. It was well in need of a wash, covered in dirt and ashy, yet still obviously purple in colour - though perhaps not the vibrant purple it once was. His hair could best be described as messy; a straggly mop of green waves, with his natural brown hair showing through at the roots and in patches. His body language was odd, the way he held himself, with his shoulders hunched, unsettled me.

As he turned around, to see what his henchmen had brought in, I felt a pang of total despair. I recognised his streaky painted face from a recent news broadcast, and I knew instantly that we were in deep trouble. This was the man they called 'the joker'. I could hear the poor shop girl sobbing behind me somewhere, barely hiding her sheer terror.

"Ah more guests for our little party," he exclaimed, his voice and intonation seeming as erratic as his physical movements.

"What you want us to do with them, boss?" Grunted the shorter goon to my left.

"Put them with the others," he gestured, stalking forward.

I turned to watch as he approached the shop girl, my heart in my throat.

"And who do we have here?" He asked, in a tone mimicking gentleness, which was even more unsettling than his usual, more sinister way of talking.

"S-sarah," she choked out between sobs.

"S-sarah? What's wrong s-sarah? Are you s-scared?" He cooed, practically circling her like a big cat.

I felt sick watching him toy with her, and anger began to rise in my chest. Sarah nodded defeatedly.

"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Oh now why would you think we are gonna do that?" He exclaimed.

She didn't seem to know how to answer.

"Just do everything we ask, and some of you will live," he grinned patting her on the head, "put her with the rest," he gestured dramatically to the others in the corner.

His goons did as he asked and shifted her to where the others were cowering in the corner. I bit my tongue as his attention now shifted to me.

"My my, what a pretty dress, I love the colour," he purred, barely three strides away from me now.

I said nothing, hoping he would somehow just lose interest. There was still the largest goon stood beside me, pistol jammed into my lower spine so I didn't want to antagonise either of them.

He got close enough to reach out and touch me, pulling off one of his leather gloves with his teeth. The red painted smile, already smeared and smudged, left its mark on his finger tips with the clumsiness of his action. I was trying very hard to keep a steady breath, refusing to panic as I knew it would only worsen my situation.

"What's the matter? Are you shy?" He asked, that fake empathetic tone creeping in again.

"No, I just don't find that a hostage situation lends itself to free and easy conversation," I snapped back, unable to suppress my anger fully.

He tilted his head to the side, a glint in his dark brown eyes as they searched my face, scanning, analysing. In defiance, I stared right back.

In my struggle with his henchmen, my face had become half obscured by the hair which had come loose from my bun, and my hands being behind my back, I had not been able to move it out of the way.

Suddenly breaking his stillness, he reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a knife. The switch blade swung open with a characteristic clack. I bit my tongue even harder to try and subdue my panic.

He reached out his ungloved hand to rougly grasp my face. Everything within me was screaming to struggle free, to run for the hills, but I was stuck. I'd be shot down before I made it two steps, I knew that.

"You are beautiful," he mused, " tell me, does this," he moved the knife barely an inch from my face, "does this, scare you?"

I grimaced, unable to stop myself from recoiling at his skin touching my own.

"Do you ever wonder what life is like for the ugly?" He asked, flatly.

Undeterred by my shrinking away from his touch, he roughly used his fingers to comb my fallen hair back away from my face. Once the curtain of hair was lifted, my scars were revealed, and his face took on a curious, unreadable riot of emotion for a split-second.

"What's the matter, am I not as beautiful as you thought?" I muttered sarcastically, wanting to pre-empt his inevitable mockery.

He clearly liked to pick people apart, to try and tap into their biggest fears, so it seemed a sure thing that he would have plenty to say about my face. This only made me all the more dumbfounded when he put away the knife and his grasp on my face melted into something altogether tender.

His fingertips gently brushed over the deep valleys of my old wounds as though he was trying to read my story. I felt him follow the fork from my hairline at my temple all the way down, bridging my eye, down my cheek to the point mid way along the lefthand side of my jaw where it ended. As he did so, I saw for the first time up close his own grisly scars which formed a sort of permanent smile. The makeup he applied over the top made it harder to see from afar just how extensive they were. I knew from my own experience that the wounds had been more than skin deep, into deep muscle tissue. You could tell by how raised and pitted they were.

The man holding me at gunpoint seemed not to have picked up on this sudden change of pace, as he had plenty to say, even if the joker didn't.

"I shoulda warned you, she's a butterface," he chuckled, "you should do the other side to match, I already made a start," he gestured to the split eyebrow and puffy eye he'd given me on my good side.

The joker's body language rapidly changed again. I felt him tense up, even in his fingers against my cheek. It was as though every fibre in his body was taught suddenly, like he was a rubber band about to snap. His eyes seemed to darken, his irises almost like black pools against the black paint encircling them. I was suddenly very afraid.

He looked down at my face with an air of detachement, his tongue flicking against the inner corner of his lip.

"Would you excuse me for a second, doll?" He grinned, before his smile dropped flat again the moment he straightened up to full height.

"Give me the gun," he comanded of his goon.

"But boss..." the burly man protested, before removing it from my back and reluctantly handing it over.

There was a deafening crack and the smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils as my ears rang. Some of the hostages cried out in fear and for a moment I thought he must have shot me. I stumbled on the stupid dress, falling to the floor with a crash, dazed, my ears still ringing as I rolled onto my side, preparing for my seemingly imminent death.

Unexpectedly, my vision began to clear and the ringing dimmed down enough that I could try to collect my thoughts. I became aware of another figure in front of me on the floor. Someone was roughly pulling me upwards, trying to get me back on my feet.

"Up you get!"

Suddenly, I managed to re-engage my muscles enough to stand, swaying on legs that felt like jelly.

"There you go, see? You're fine," came a low voice to my left, practically right into my ear. I blinked hard as I began to make sense of what had just happened.

The joker shifted so that he was stood in front of me again, and gripped a hand under my jaw so that he could look me in the face. He turned my somewhat vacant face this way and that, as though he was checking I was still in there.

"Whoops! Probably should've told you to stick your fingers in your ears," he wheezed with laughter, releasing my face and waving the gun around casually.

My lingering confusion was cleared up when I realised the other figure on the floor was his own man. The others looked on, some unfased, some clearly very uncomfortable at this sudden decision to remove him from the equation entirely. He had shot him point blank, I couldn't bring myself to believe that it was in reaction to his insults. Surely this was just some kind of mind game going far beyond my comprehension... I didn't feel reasurred, I definitely didn't feel flattered, if anything it just showed the true unpredictability of the psychopath in front of me.

"Right, now that minor... detour is over, I want you all to stay calm, while we execute out little plan," he comanded, gesturing to the hostages.

Two of his men forced grenades into peoples shaking hands, pulling the pins so that they were forced to hold on to them, or risk them detonating. They produced a roll of duct tape and wound it around each pair of hands, so there was no chance of them tossing the grenades away from the group either. The others continued to stuff duffle bags full with the cash from the registers, and the jewellery from the display cases. I cursed the slow response time of the GCPD, although there was never a gurantee that their arrival wouldn't cause more of a bloodbath, since so many of them liked to shoot first and ask questions later. They had far too lenient of a threshold for 'collateral damage'.

I was expecting to be forcibly handed my own grenade, but instead the joker gestured to me. The way in which he waved me over was completely antithetical to the situation unfolding around us; it was so casual, as though we were long-time friends. Not seeing another choice, I gingerly approached him, and he, losing patience, roughly grabbed me by the arm and yanked me closer to him.

"These lovely people can stay here, but, uh, you..." he lingered on the word looking me up and down, as he taped my hands together in front of my body, "you, are coming along for the ride".

"Why?!" Was all I managed to get out as he shoved me roughly toward the front of the store.

He laughed, sending a fresh chill down my spine.

"Well, we have an opening, consider yourself the newest member of our operation," he said in a congratulatory tone.

Before I could respond at all, my head reeling in total panic, I was being tugged out of the door with my arms feeling like they were going to pop out of the sockets.

[aliferous-ly]

thinking about this idea again. got some more concepts for y'all.

the story would be from an outsiders pov, im ranchers forever so I'm thinking jimmy, but scar and tango have the strongest most codependent independent relationship alive. jimmy is in a party a la DND, he's a magic user of some sort, also in his party is Joel, Lizzie, and grian.

also this gets long so rest is below the cut

Jimmy and the party hear about these shopkeepers who hold the most unique wares you'll ever find. Ideas created by both, engineered by one, usually sold by the other. The shopkeepers are a little off though, so keep your wits about you.

They need some unique weapons/tools for fighting some big bad, so they hit up the shop.

It's dim, hazy, drapes of crimson fabric strewn across the walls. It's unclear what covers a doorway and what covers a wall. Wayward light ignites gold decals, polished to the nines. the party creeps in, grian in the lead because jimmy pushed for checking out the shop but got nervous at the door.

"welcome!" a drawling voice echoes from seemingly everywhere. a man (?) swooshes through fabric. He's dressed like he's a part of the shop, or maybe that the shop is a part of him. He introduces himself as scar, and his teeth and ears are too sharp to be human. His eyes have grey-blue sclera like a vex, but his skin is pink like a red-blooded creature. True to his name, his visible skin is coated in scars - any other identifiable features are hidden beneath his beautiful, expensive-looking garb.

Grian loves a challenge, so he immediately banters it up with scar. The adventurers explore the shop, seeing all sorts of bits and bobs they never imagined, and leave with these weird grenades that grian is just buzzing to try out. Scar does his best to sell them on some dyed glass he insists are crystals, but none of them bite.

It becomes a habit to visit the shop whenever they're in town. They ask the locals about them, because who wouldn't, and only gain more questions from it. The second owner rarely makes appearances, but not for fear of strangers; he just spends all of his time making things, including countless farms that supply the locals with stuff like cobwebs or paper. The local seamstress is trying to make spider-silk clothing.

However, on the off chance that the second owner DOES appear (a fiery man-shaped creature named tango), you should buy something. He's AWFUL at bartering, which usually will leave the customer with the better deal, but he'll also talk your ear off about the knickknacks. The townsfolk joke that it's a trade of hours of their time for a random free gadget. He also swears by the "crystals", and wears an orange one strung around his neck.

It takes months, but one visit they enter the shop and there's a not-man sitting on the counter. Fire wafts from his head, the backs of his hands, and the tops of his feet. The rest of his body looks fuzzy at the edges. He wears open sandals, loose, draping clothing, and has bare arms. Despite the fire, nothing around him ignites. Scar frequently nudges into his space and remains burn-free. His clothing doesn't have a scorch mark on them.

"Friends!" Scar greets, which makes grian pout, because grian enjoys the attempt to startle scar every time they visit.

The man is introduced as tango, which the party recall is the name the townsfolk mentioned. Jimmy is immediately entranced. Tango is a veritable firework, beaming and giggling, snarking at scar without faltering on the gears between his hands.

Joel asks the tactless, "what are you?" which just makes tango and scar laugh and laugh and laugh. They don't answer, but the others don't realize this until several hours later.

The two arent always open. But the party grows close enough with them that they've seen the two outside of the shop, but it's rare. They're like wisps, or ghosts tethered to a location. It can be easy to forget their abnormal bits when scar stumbles and knocks over an entire rack of potions, or when tango loses a dice game against Joel and makes a sputtering human groan. But then scar will twitch just so, and tango will still and cock his head, and the party remembers.

At one point the big bad that the party is helping take out sets it's sights on the shop's city. Many evacuate, tango and scar with them. The adventurers meet with them as they're packing, worried about their friends. Will they have a safe place to go? Are they okay, leaving their life's work behind like this? Can the party help in any way?

Scar reassures them that they'll be fine. It's not the first time they've moved about. "It's not like we sprouted from the bedrock here!" He's joking, but the others hadn't been sure if tango and scar weren't, like, some nature spirits of the area.

Tango, lugging a chest far too heavy for his frame, huffs and puffs into view. Jimmy rushes over to help - tango thanks him, patting him on the arm, and jimmy glows. Tango adds, "we'll be fine, we're going to the deep dark."

The big bad was clunky and loud, so it would get the attention of every warden for miles. Even it couldn't handle a swarm of wardens.

This information made the party even more nervous, to which scar and tango laughed. This is when they learned that tango manned a game that reached the depths, a gauntlet that caused death, or great riches if you made it out alive.

The adventurers had heard of decked out from their mutual friend pearl, but it was a horrific dungeon, to them. What crazy person would dive into a den of ravagers and wardens, armor and item-less, just for the glory of it all?

Scar added that he just loved playing, even though he died to good ol' dunga dunga dunga every other run. The two bid them all farewell, while the party reeled and tried to process that scar died. regularly. and he was still here.

So, no, the two weren't normal. They could communicate with merely a glance. Their smiles stretched too wide sometimes, and the party swore their eyes glowed in the dark.

Their shop was filled with copper gears, oxidized and not; occasionally they coated it in blood-red drapes, to "shake things up". Tango makes it too dim, scar makes it too bright. They have differing personalities but can look like twins in the way they react to things.

Just. Scar and tango cryptids. Owning a shop together. Weirding out adventurers.

[piratefalls]

i'm back! between work and trying to write my first fic for this fandom i've been falling really behind on reading, so for now these are going to be a more bi-weekly occurrence than weekly. in any event, there's truly a little bit here for everyone, so enjoy this week's mix of a+ works!

masterlist

you and me, babe, how about it? by @myheartalivewrites

Alex sits in the back of their Secret Service approved, PPO driven Land Rover, excitement thrumming through his body. The leather squeaks as he fidgets incessantly; his skin burns where Kieran’s shoulder is pressed into his, despite the layers of fabric between them. On the other side of Kieran, he can see Henry’s fingers twitch on top of his own knee, playing an imaginary piano, flicking out and squeezing in before releasing and starting again. Like he’s so fucking desperate to reach out and touch the leg next to his he’s having to muster up all of his self-control, draw on all the years of keeping himself restrained, just to not start things too soon. Alex can’t believe they’re actually, finally, doing this.

you know i can't be found with you by stutteringpeach

“He’s cute,” Alex declares on the first day of class. Liam doesn’t even bother to look up from his laptop. “Uh huh.” “The professor.” Liam makes a non-committal noise. “I’m gonna fuck him.”

Longer Than Most by happinessofthepursuit

“Oh,” Alex says. “Sick.” Henry can’t help but grin. He can’t believe he’s so bloody gone on a man who says sick and dude, who he’s slept with all of one time and proceeded to knock him up. Henry’s a cliche, honestly. “It is, indeed, sick, as you say.” Alex rolls his eyes, but his cheeks darken a shade, giving him away a bit. “Listen, the closest I get to poetry is your fucking face. Excuse me if my vocabulary doesn’t quite compare to yours.” Or, Alex and Henry have a one night stand. That is, until a baby’s involved.

Baby (Let Me Put On a Show) by SatinBirds

It’s been five months, and still Alex is never completely prepared for Henry’s performances. Private or otherwise. Or, Henry is a night dancer, and he’s everything Alex wants.

Sun Salutations (Waif for Me) by @duchessdepolignaca03

He repeats the movement five or six times, his body heating up with each repetition, loosening the hangovers’ grip on him through very effective breathwork. Wanting to open up his hips a little bit more, he settles into a wide-legged forward fold. He holds the pose, enjoying the delicious stretch on his lower back and virtually all the muscles of his lower body. Then he just about jumps out of his skin when he hears, “Mmm, breakfast is served.” Or: Alex parties hard on a Thursday night and has some deliciously anonymous sex with the glittery blond he calls Waif. When he wakes to do his naked sun salutations, he learns that Waif is a very, very hungry, 'temporarily unhoused' boy whom Alex quickly invites to live rent-free in his head.

secret, scars, and trust by viciouslyqueer

He trails off and Henry takes the opportunity to cup his cheek, gently swiping his thumb over the smooth skin. “Hey. We don’t have to do anything. We can stop right now if you want to, or cuddle for a while. I can put on a movie if you’d like. I don’t mind either way.” Alex’s smile grows and he leans into the touch, pecking Henry’s lips again. “Thanks, baby,” he murmurs, and Henry has to fight the urge to react at the pet name. “But it’s not that. I want to keep going, if you want it, too. I just have to tell you something before, okay?”

make it five by anincompletelist

“Fifty bucks says I can get that guy’s number.” Popping the bubble of cinnamon-flavored gum Alex had just blown, he glances up from his phone to look at where Nora’s pointing. Just over the soles of his shoes, crossed at the ankles and propped on the flaking black wood of the shop’s front desk, there’s a man with broad shoulders lingering by the far wall. Alex hadn’t even heard the guy come in. “Nora. He’s literally looking at one of the biggest dildos I’ve ever seen,” he deadpans quietly. + alex works at a sex toy shop. it's usually a pretty easy job — if he could just stop daydreaming about the blonde guy that keeps coming in to buy literally all of alex's favorite sex toys.

talk by smc_27

Henry records himself for an audio erotica app. Alex finds it. And listens.

Got a ticket for two by clottedcreamfudge

Henry likes his apartment - he has done since the day he moved in a year ago. The light in the sitting room is gorgeous at all times of day thanks to the ceiling to floor windows which lead out onto a south-facing balcony, only just large enough for the plethora of plantlife his flatmates care for. The kitchen is always stocked with his favourite tea, everyone keeps to their allotted cupboard and fridge space, and the bathrooms are kept meticulously clean. There's a rota for chores stuck to the fridge with magnets from Rhode Island and Minnesota, London and Milan, with everything typed up neatly so that nobody has to squint to read someone else's awful handwriting. His flatmates themselves? Well, they're a little… strange.

Far Away From the One That I Love by allmylovesatonce

It's been an agonizing two months of Henry being in London and Alex being in New York. When an opportunity to finally be reunited with Henry comes his way, Alex jumps on it. But things don't go quite how they expected after so much time away.

If We're Caught in a Wage (I Will Carry You Over) by @sparklepocalypse

There it is, up ahead – the small island just offshore, with Alex’s favorite broad, flat stone outcropping, perfect for sunning himself in seclusion. He splashes into the shallows and dives in when the water’s up to his knees, and it’s a matter of maybe a minute’s swim to reach the island. Alex finds his footing among the sand and pebbles, pulls himself upright, and shakes the water out of his hair, then pushes it back from his face. He can practically hear the outcropping calling to him -- you know, if inanimate rock could speak. Alex stretches, his mid-back satisfyingly popping, and then skirts his way between some larger rocks until his sunning rock is in view. Except – there’s someone already on the outcropping, their short blond hair shimmering in the sunshine, the upper slant of their shoulders visible from where Alex is standing. (Movie or Bookverse AU; Alex rents a remote beach house and Henry is a cecaelia.)

Protect Your Solitude by graceofgrayskull

At the 2016 Rio Olympics, Alex stumbles onto Prince Henry crying in a storage closet and is forced to rewrite his perception of their first meeting.

Out For A Bite by everwitch

Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry. He’s staring right at Henry. Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

each time we touch / i wanna take too much by @firenati0n

my fingers slipped and now there are fingers in mouths. wrote this in one sitting at 5am today. please forgive any egregious errors, i wrote it without my glasses on and on no sleep lol. hope you like it. <3 title from New Girl by FINNEAS

you took the time to memorize me (my fears, my hopes, my dreams) by coffeecatsme

The tour guide has a small bisexual flag pinned to his chest, right next to where his name is scrawled in big, bold letters. Alex, it reads; simple, to the point. The name tag rests on a red and black flannel, and underneath is a white t-shirt with Georgetown’s name stretched on the front, reminding Henry ever so starkly that he’s thousands of miles away from what he calls home. The flannel stretches over broad shoulders leading up to a strong jaw, all in contrast with the bright, dimpled grin stretched over a beautiful face. Henry thinks there isn't a place on the world far enough away from his grandmother to escape her clutches - even after transferring to Georgetown. Then, his tour guide extends a helping hand and shows him otherwise. Or, 5 steps Alex and Henry take to memorize each other and 1 time they realize they already do.

Praise & Supplication by NoCoastPosts

Alex is always moving, always going, always seeking. He is defiance and brashness tinged with anxiety, but not in these moments. Henry pins him down with a gaze as heavy as his touch, and all of Alex’s motions cease. He is calm, he is obedient, he is pliable. He knows he’ll be broken apart piece by piece, sending waves of heat deep into his core. or When Alex gets stuck in his head, Henry helps him let go.

Another Door Opens by 14carrotgold

Henry takes a long drink. “If it makes you feel any better, my dad's dead. He and my mum had the type of love straight from the storybooks and it got cut tragically short, so what is the point in finding something real if it's just going to hurt you?” Alex bites back a smile and shakes his head. “How in the fuck was that supposed to make me feel better?” He waves his hand awkwardly. “Oh, I just thought we were both sharing the trauma that impacted our romantic relationships.” - Henry and Alex first meet when Henry reveals their partners are cheating on them with each other.

Fifteen Hours Till Forever by inexplicablymine

“I would say that in this life, we aren’t granted many chances at true happiness, at the unadulterated freedom and joy that comes to the lucky ones. I would say that I know right now only fifteen feet apart, fifteen hours till forever, and somehow the universe has decided I ought to be one of the luckiest there are.” “But tomorrow,” he continues, “when we are saying our vows, when we are promising ourselves to one another forever, I want you to look me in the eyes and know that you are it for me.”  OR The year is 2025, and the world doesn't know they are getting married. 

home by rizcriz

For a moment he fears Henry’s been outed against his will somehow, but he scrolls down to find a video clip. Unable to trust himself to watch the video, he scrolls a little further to read the transcript. He learns that Henry had come out during a ribbon cutting, of all things. He’d stood in front of a crowd of a couple hundred people gathered for the opening of a new youth shelter, and he’d told his truth. Alex is tempted to watch the video, to examine his body language to see if it was planned or not, but he reads further and one sentence stands out to tell him it wasn’t. There is no comment yet from Buckingham Palace. -- or, six months after Henry rejected Alex at Kensington Palace.

The Way of Things by writerkenna

Henry and Alex have been very much enjoying the life they’ve managed to carve out for themselves. They’ve had to compromise and work and change to maintain it, but it’s worth it. Henry finds himself pregnant, though, and everything they’ve built starts to turn on its head. as always, let me know if you want to be tagged either because you're a writer or a reader (or both!) and i'll see you next time!

My life is a cosmic joke and you're not a real person by lizzie_bennetdarcy

Alex plans to be a lot of firsts in the world. But this absolutely isn't the kind of first he was thinking. He stares wide-eyed into the mirror at the letters on his shoulder while June whines to be let in. Alex finally unlocks the door and June bursts through. “Show me!” Wordlessly, Alex turns to show her his back. "What the actual fuck?" June exclaims, then claps a hand over her mouth. "Sorry, that was rude, but — is it more than one person?" Or: Five times Alex doesn't find his soulmate, and one time he does

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift omg i feel like i'm missing someone

[urbanfox197]

RESTORATION PROJECT: BUILD A BEAR ROCKET RACCOON PLUSH

Hey fans of our beloved space raccoon, I have great news, recently my collection had a small upgrade (will show the updated collection pics later), and between the cuties that came, we have this good boy, a Build A Bear Rocket Raccoon plush with his signature Ravagers suit

This is a really special plush since they're IMPOSSIBLE to get here in Europe, the only one i found on Vinted (european second hand sale app) was +80€ and didnt included the suit. But this cutie has been imported from USA along some other thanks to a great friend and was like 15€.

But unfortunately being so cheap meant he had a few issues. Some loose threads both on the plush and the suit and, the worst, this huge scar on his back under the suit. My friend didnt opened the bag when received him, so he didnt saw it... But i'm not just a plush collector, i love to restore and save them, so let's get started and help this raccoon.

First thing i did was remove the old thread. Fortunately, there's no damage on the fabric, it's just an open seam, the "stuffing hole", I have a theory that i'll explain later.

Fun fact, all Build a Bear plushies come with a heart inside, so...

Here's the proof that Rocket Raccoon has a heart. (Don't worry, i put it back inside before closing him)

Since he's not loose or missing stuffing, i didnt needed to add more, so i just closed him using the old but reliable "ladder stitch", unfortunately there's no photo or video of the process, forgot to make any... But here's the result, a clean and closed seam.

Now just had to remove all the loose threads from the plush.

Now do the same with the suit and give it to him... And we're finished!!

I'm pretty surprised that despite the loose threads and the open seam, the plush is in a perfect overall conditions. No fabric damage, no weird smells, competely clean, even both the logos of Build a Bear and Rocket Raccoon and the tags are all perfect. (Cant include images, thanks Tumblr and your 10 pics limits...), according to the tag he was made in 2016, so this guy is 8 years old.

Now my theory of what happened: Build a Bear has a lost plush program, if you find an abandoned plush, you take it to a shop and thanks to a paper inside, they can try to find the owner. I didnt found that paper inside so... I don't want to think bad, so probably the person selling him didnt wanted anyone to track the plush or something, I don't know or care.

He's now safe here after his travel across the Atlantic Ocean and he now lives calm and cozy here in Spain along with more Rocket plushies.

Well, that's everything for this post. See you guys, and remember, love and care for your plushies, they deserve it for being our emotional support. 🦝♥️

[potatoetree]

I'm back with some more...

INCORRECT

                 QUOTE

                         GENERATOR

   

             *Boaterm addition*

Scar: In case you haven’t noticed, I’m weird. I’m a weirdo. I don’t “fit in” and I don’t WANT to fit in. Have you ever seen me without this stupid hat on? That’s weird.

Mumbo: Are we really going to let Grian keep Scar?

Pearl: We kept Impulse.

Scar: Don't worry, I've got a few knives up my sleeve.

Mumbo: I think you mean cards.

Grian: They did not.

Scar, pulling out knives: I did not.

Grian: I don’t think the therapist is supposed to say ‘wow’ that many times during their first session with a client, but here we are.

Scar: I won a new phone in a race.

Impulse: Huh? What kind of race lets you win a phone, Scar?

Scar: A race between the store owner, the cop, and me.

Mumbo: *Stands in trash can.*

Impulse: Mumbo, not again! You're not trash, you're at least recycling!

*The Squad is on a hike*

Impulse: It’s beautiful out here.

Mumbo: And quiet.

Impulse: Too quiet.

Mumbo: Did we lose someone?

*cut to Grian with a bear in a headlock*

Mumbo: I’ve become a bread crumb dealer to four crows at the lake. They pay me with a bit of everything. Like shiny things, fabric, or pens. But recently they paid me with a 20 dollar bill they found somewhere. So I decided to buy them some more expensive bread. They loved it. So they understand what to do. Give me money. I’ve probably racked up about 200 dollars at this point. Is it morally wrong though, I mean. They’re the ones who steal the money from others. Or perhaps they just have a big pile laying somewhere. Should I keep on doing this?

Impulse: You sound like the start of a Batman villain.

Scar: I think we should have glow stick juice injected in our bones when we're born, so if we break our bones, we get a fun little surprise.

Impulse: What's the surprise?

Pearl: Blood poisoning.

Scar: *sneaking in through their window*

Grian: *turning in their chair and flicking the light one* You want to tell me where you've been all night?

Scar: I was with Mumbo?

Mumbo: *turning in their chair* Wanna try again?

Scar: Met a dumbass today. Awful.

Grian: You looked in a mirror?

Scar: Someday you will have to answer for your actions and god may not be so merciful.

Mumbo: I know you love them.

Grian: I am not in love with Scar!

Mumbo, staring at Grian: I never said who...

Grian: *realizes*

Grian: Shit. Well, anyways-

Scar: Pick a card, any card.

Grian: Fine.

Scar: Wait, that's my credit card!

Grian: You said any card.

Scar: I may be stupid.

The Squad: ...

Scar: Oh, did you think I was going to finish that sentence?

Grian: I am the most responsible person in the group.

Pearl: …You just set the kitchen on fire.

Grian: Yes, and I take full responsibility for that.

Grian: Go ahead, Scar. Let it out, cry. If you don't, your tear ducts will get blocked up, and then when you get old, you won't be able to cry.

Pearl: Just when we thought it was safe to let you back into the conversation.

Scar: Grian, I sense hostility.

Grian: Good, because I hate you.

Pearl (brainstorming ideas for pranking Grian): How much could a serial killer mask possibly cost?

Impulse: Well it’s hard to find a high-quality one made out of leather or silicone, but if you did find a good one like that it’d be a couple thousands of dollars. I can try to hook you up with one but I don’t know if I’d be very successful.

Pearl: Huh, that’s pretty interesting actually- Wait, how the hell do you know that?

Impulse: …I am very passionate about Halloween, Pearl.

Scar: *working in a flower shop and minding their own business*

Grian, storming into the store and slapping $20 on the counter: HOW DO I PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVELY SAY “FUCK YOU” IN FLOWER???

Mumbo: Why would you give a knife to Impulse?!

Scar, shrugging: Impulse felt unsafe.

Mumbo: Now I feel unsafe!

Scar: I’m sorry…

Scar: Would you like a knife?

Grian: Thought I was meowing back at my cat for the past hour, but it was just me and Scar meowing at each other from different rooms in the house.

Scar: Hello, I'm Scar. I work at a shop now. Here to help. Look, they gave me a badge with my name on it in case I forget it. Very helpful, as that does happen.

Scar: *running towards Pearl with open arms*

Pearl: *moves out of the way*

Scar: Hey, why'd you move?!

Pearl: I thought you were going to attack me.

Scar: I was going to hug you!

Pearl: Why would you hug me?

Scar: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU!?

Mumbo, trying to flirt: So, you come around here often?

Grian, confused: I mean, this is my house, so yeah.

Grian: Everything will be ok. You can not stop it.

Grian: Everything will be fine. You have no choice.

Scar: What the fuck kind of pep talk is that?

Grian: Ominous positivity.

Scar: *in a jail cell* What about my Miranda rights!? You’re supposed to say I have ‘the right to remain silent’”! NOBODY SAID I HAD THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT!

Pearl: *in the cell next to them* You have the right to remain silent, what you lack is the capacity.

Pearl: I’m going to dunk on you.

Mumbo: Bring a ladder.

Pearl: I have the sharpest memory here - name one time I forgot something!

Mumbo: You left me, Grian, and Scar in a Walmart parking lot at 2am a day ago.

Pearl: I did that on purpose, try again.

Scar: Do you ever feel bugs on you when really there’s nothing there?

Pearl: Those are the ghosts of the bugs you killed before.

Scar:

Scar: *sobs*

Mumbo: You fucking scared them, you idiot.

Scar: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?

Pearl: Can everyone in this godforsaken group please learn the skill called "Think Before You Speak"?

Grian: Ya know... it might be.

Scar: Impulse has no idea I’m high.

Impulse: You’re high?

Scar: Oh, I’m sorry.

Scar, leaning over to Mumbo: Impulse has no idea I’m high.

Grian: Let's just agree to both say we're sorry on the count of three.

Grian: One... two... three.

Pearl: ...

Grian: ...

Grian: See, now I'm just disappointed in both of us.

[nadinediary]

Corporate Fashion with 𝒩adine.

As of the beginning of 2023, I got promoted to coordinator at my job, making me a full-time corporate girlie. I wanted to share some fashion tips and advice for my other entry-level girls who are new to the corporate workplace. To begin, Looking at your workplace guidelines on work attire is important. My agency is lenient, not having restrictions on footwear or colours, so keep that in mind throughout the post. I’ll provide reference photos (the images aren’t mine).

Beauty

Most corporate occupations have this silent rule that women have to wear makeup. Fortunately, that isn't the case at my place of work. I wear makeup to work because I want to. I like to keep my makeup simple and light.

I don't wear foundation, but I do use concealer for my hyperpigmentation. I apply it under my eyes, on the corners of my mouth and any acne scars. For my brows, I like to keep my natural brow shape, just lightly filling in and brushing them. For blush, I use cream on my cheeks and nose bridge.

I have dark skin, so most brown lip liners aren’t dark enough for me, so I use a combination of black and brown liners paired with a sheer pink gloss. I finish off my makeup, highlighting my nose and cheekbones. I've made it a part of my beauty routine to get my lashes done, and I usually go with a cat hybrid set.

I used to have long, stiletto French nails, but lately, I've been learning the guitar, so I've kept my nails short with red gel polish.

As for hair I almost always have my hair in protective styles most notably cornrows, but when my hair is out of braids I have it in a low bun. I’ve recently bought a kinky straight wig that I’ve cut and customised similarly to the reference photo, and I’m so in love with it.

Basics

From satin blouses to pencil skirts, the basics include all the trusty fashion essentials for the office. Sticking to neutral when working in a corporate workspace is always safe. If you love colours like me, I’d advise you to include coloured pieces such as turtlenecks, blouses or scarves to brighten your outfit.

As for inspiration, I think you can’t go wrong with a matching set. My favourite set is a white waistcoat paired with a long pencil skirt; I also have a similar waistcoat and pants set in grey. I wear slip-on loafers during warmer weather, and during cooler temperatures, I will wear boots and a turtleneck underneath the waistcoat or a trench coat.

Dressing for the Weather

Regarding weather, for winter, you can switch out your summer blouses and linen shirts for high-neck tops, turtlenecks and knit sweater vests to layer. I'm Australian, so our winters can feel much colder. Therefore I usually wear tweed blazers and coats. I own three trench coats for work; one in black, one in beige and the other in white; I rotate between the three.

I suggest having neutral-coloured outerwear so you can reuse and style them with more pieces. I have a stereotypical girly style so I love tweed sets paired with stockings and a nice pair of boots or heels when the weather gets cold.

As for Summer, I like to focus on the fabric of the pieces I own, prioritising breathable and lightweight textures such as; cotton, linen, silk or satin. Pairing my tops with loose-fitted, lightweight pants and silk skirts. You can throw on a blazer when it's feeling a bit cooler. It’s important to learn how to style your body type, I'm a pear shape, so I have wider hips with a smaller upper body and waist. I like showing my figure, so I usually wear fitted high-waisted trousers, shorts and skirts.

Accessories & Essentials

I love my loafers; as previously mentioned, I wear slip-on loafers during warmer weather, but for those who have to wear heels for work, you can never go wrong with a sturdy pair of sling-back heels. I like shopping for my work shoes at Charles and Keith; they are affordable and good quality.

I've recently switched from a shoulder bag to a backpack for my back health; I previously used a Burberry shoulder bag, but I've since switched to an Ecosusi women's vintage backpack in black.

I’m a maximalist to the core although I like to keep my jewellery minimal for work, My staples are some thick gold hoops, my Casio gold watch and my gold cross necklace, which I pair with a few rings and bracelets, that’s all.

Good luck to all my corporate baddies and nine-to-five girlies.

Sincerely,

𝒩adine.

[xxcocothekillerxx]

Behind Locked Doors

Pairing: Johnny slaughter x FemReader

Summary: Y/N recently moved into a somewhat small town, Newt, In Texas with her father. Y/N's father thought this would be a good opportunity for them, since things got rough back in California. Little do they know the trouble that awaited them..

!THIS CHAPTER CONTAIN NSFW!

Warning: This series will contain 18+ content & material! NSFW situations and possibly TRIGGERING topics such as- Depression, stalking, blood & gore, manipulation, mention of kidnapping and small amounts of self-harm, such as scars/cuts.

{{ Please proceed with care if you're sensitive to ANY of these topics }}

Author's Note: I apologize for the wait, I've been having trouble keeping up with stuff, so I'm sorry if chapter seem rushed or overall late. Either way I hope you still enjoy! 💋

Chapter 4: FarmHouse 

  The sun shined down into your window, gently grazing over your skin, the warmth making your eyes flutter open and dart around your room. you started to wake from your slumber, your body stretched and shook slightly, a large moan of relief rumbled in the back of your throat as you did so.You continued to lay in your bed for a while, thinking about the events that happened last night along with the weird pit you had within your stomach about Johnny. His eyes burned into your mind which caused butterflies to form in your stomach, you almost felt stupid for the sudden feelings you had. You've only met him for almost a week now compared to when you first arrived here in this town, yet he's the only one who's been by your side since your friends disappeared… other than your father that is. You sat up on your bed, your mind starting to wake more as you sat there before hearing a knock outside your door, your father's voice gently on the other side asking to come in. “Come in dad..” you groggily spoke as you gently rubbed your eyes, your father cracking the door open ever so slightly before fully making his way inside your room, his warm smile greeting you as he handed you some breakfast in bed. “Hey sweetie.. just thought I'd check up on you… and unfortunately tell you I'm gonna be gone for a few days…” he spoke softly while he set down the plate of food on your side table, a slightly disappointed look on his face. Your eyes widened slightly in worry as you sat more upright and locked eyes with him, “again?..” you complained, your brows furrowed in frustration. “I'm sorry sweetie.. you know how work is” he placed himself next to you on the bed and placed his hand gently on your knee “It's only for a couple days i promise…however I went shopping yesterday while you were out so you should be alright” he gave a soft and reassuring smile, fixing his glasses at the same time. You gave a big sigh as your eyes shut with frustration, ‘alone again’ you thought. “ok dad…” you huffed a little but quickly gave your father a warm, yet fake, smile. 

  Your father huffed and reluctantly smiled before lifting himself up and off or your bed, whipping off his shirt a little bit before heading towards the door. “Be safe sweetie.. I left forty dollars for you in the box in my room if you need anything and PLEASE call if you need absolutely anything..” he spoke clearly but with love in his tone as he looked at you for a serious response. You couldn't help but chuckle at your father's attempt to give a serious look, you smiled while giving your father a nod. “Of course dad” you giggle before watching him smile and walk outside your room, closing the door as he leaves. You listened in as you heard your father get ready to leave, his footsteps heavy as he finished up whatever else he was tending too. You yourself got up from your bed and started to get dressed, a red halter top with white stripes running horizontally across its fabric. Then a pair of black bell bottom jeans with red stitching framing the black, you left a few hair ties on your wrists and a small black necklace  as an accessory as you finished up your simple makeup. 

  Quickly it turned noon, you were down in the kitchen making a small batch of cookies for later, putting aside a few for you and Johnny. He told you to meet up with him yesterday so you wanted to give him something for yesterday, a small smile appearing across your face as you finished up the cookies and put them to the side on the counter. You were used to being alone in the house because of your father's work, so being in an empty house didn't exactly bother you so much. However, as you finish cleaning up and doing your chores..

!!BANG!!

You felt your body jolt and your heart nearly jump out of your chest as you saw a bird hit the window in front of you, its medium sized body slowly sliding down the window before falling completely off and mostly likely on the ground outside. You stood there in slight shock for a few seconds as you looked at the blood starting to trail down, the crimson blood glistening in the sun as it dropped down the window. You felt yourself relax, taking a deep breath before giving a somewhat annoyed huff as you knew you had to go chuck the poor thing in the garbage or something. You sighed and put on a yellow glove as you began to Walk outside and around to the side of the house where you knew the dead bird was. Seeing the broken and bent bird laying on the ground, its blood turning the grass around it a dark brown, made you frown as you looked at the poor thing. Yet you disgustingly picked up the dead bird by the feet, its limp body hanging there as you walked across the road to the edge of the sunflower field. You gave the bird an apology before tossing it into the field. Turning around, you looked both ways before you quickly walked back towards your house. Walking back inside you hastily took off the, slightly covered in blood, yellow glove and washed it in the sink, as you finished cleaning you put the glove back where it was. You wash your hands thoroughly with soup and then clean the  rest of the sink, putting away the sponge in the little Holder. With a smile you firmly grab the small box of cookies that you tied off with a little red ribbon and a small note you wrote, thanking Johnny for yesterday. With everything done and the sun still shining brightly in the sky, you walk outside once again. The cool breeze caresses your skin and blows gently through your hair, you take a deep breath and you take the step off the porch and onto your dirt driveway. You're father and the car long gone by now, however your mind wanders to Johnny. Hoping he'll somewhat enjoy the baked goods and hoping now's a good time to run over, a part of you felt somewhat dumb as you never really realized how relatively close his house was to yours, only past an acre of sunflowers. 

  It was a little bit of a walk before you managed to get over to Johnny's house, listen to his words and not go past the tree line. The large white building greeted your eyes as you started to observe your surroundings, a small part of you wondering why you weren't allowed to get any closer. However your eyes wandered around until noticing a large brown barn to the left of the house and a few small shack looking buildings behind both the house and barn, your eyes landed back onto the house and looking at the large window that was staring directly towards you. You waited for a little while with nothing happening and you felt a little dumb for standing in the middle of their driveway like some weirdo, which made you walk past the tree line and over some kind of electrical grate. ‘They have livestock??.. I don't see any cows’ you thought, although you quickly assumed they might be in the back fields or barn, yet you didn't hear any mooing which confused you. Nevertheless you continued forward towards the house, cookie box firmly in hand as you got to the stairs of the front porch, your foot creating a creaking noise as you placed it on the old wooden steps. You took a deep breath to relax yourself from the weird feeling you had in your gut which you tried your best to ignore as you gave a gentle knock on the white door, its White paint chipping off at the edges. You could hear some Rustling as you hear a fair, yet clear voice. “Johnny! Get the door will ‘ya.. too tired for this..” the voice angrily spoke, you could easily tell it was Drayton by the way he angrily spoke, which made a part of you feel bad for Johnny. You soon hear heavy footsteps come to the door before nearly hitting you in the face with how quickly it opened, however before that could happen you quickly took a step back, your breathing hitching slightly as your eyes widened in shock and locked with the door. You take a moment to process before shaking your head and smiling, your eyes locking with his. Except.. his gaze didn't seem surprised or warm, it felt cold and blank, before you could greet him you felt your back hit the pole that was connected with the little fence on the porch and his hand quickly and firmly covering your mouth. Your eyes widening in shock and confusion and he shut the door with his foot, his eyes landed on your face and a look of anger filled his face as he spoke.. “sunflower… I told you not to come past the tree line.” He tried to hold back some rage. You felt your brows furrow in worry as you didn't mean to make him angry, you just didn't want to stand in the middle of the driveway like a weirdo. Johnny huffed before releasing his hand from your mouth, his body untensing before his eyes drifted downward to the cookie box that was now slightly crushed by your nervous grip. “I-.. just wanted to come say hi was all..” you mumbled, lifting the box slightly up as you handed it to him. “I didn't know it was a bad time..” you explained. You watched him take the small box and letter from your hands, his expression softenimg and his skin hitting your hands as he took the box. You watched as his face gave an almost surprised look, as if he never got a gift before. You could even see a soft smirk peering on the end of his lips which brought a smile to your face, clutching your hands together as you eagerly awaited for him to say something. “Thanks sunflower..” he softly said, although no smile really appeared on his face as he set the box on the small rocking chair that was off to the side.

  Without saying anything, Johnny stepped off of the porch while looking back at you to follow, which he quickly did so. You apologized for a little while as you two walked over to the brown barn you've seen earlier. Johnny kept pushing you off as you were fine in his eyes, however as you walked into the barn your eyes started to dart around at all of the tools and the broken down car that sat around the corner of the barn. And the tool table was in the right corner and clutters of tools and smaller items filled the space. The only thing off and made you wanna gage was the off place bucket of blood and guts in the far corner, which made you notice Johnny's behavior of trying to distract you from it. You only assumed it was animal guts from a chicken or cow, you quickly brought your attention back to Johnny who was now leaning against the wooden wall and staring directly at you. “So why did you want me to meet you today?..” and spoke up, trying to make more conversation with him. To your annoyance, you watched him take a pack of cigarettes out from his back jeans pocket, completely ignoring you as he takes one straight out of the pack with his lips in one straight motion. Hovering his hand over the lighter while he lit the cigarette, his dark chocolate eyes being lit up by the orange light of the lighter. You watch as his eyes dart up to you, which causes your cheeks to blush, however your face keeps the annoyed expression with your eyebrows firmly furrowed. You couldn't stand cigarette smoke, your grandma made you hate the smell as a kid because whenever your father couldn't take care of you, were trapped in a car with her sometimes on the way to her house and the windows of her car would rarely roll down, the smell made you almost sick. After a minute of standing there you almost couldn't help yourself as you walked up to Johnny, one of his brows lifting as you got suddenly closer to him. Yet the cigarette stayed firmly between his lips as he watched you in slight confusion, you go to grab the dumb cigarette out of his mouth as you spoke, “would you answer me ple-” you were quickly cut off as you felt your wrist that was going for the cigarette in his mouth gets firmly grabbed and the feeling of your back getting pushed harshly against the wooden wall, it took you a second to process what happened until your widened eyes looked up and locked with Johnny's. Who is now gripping both of your wrists against the wall on either side of your head, you could feel and smell his smoky hot breath hitting your face as he was now hovering over you and giving you a somewhat angry look as if you just tried to slap him across the face. His eyes watched every inch of your face like a hawk, the smoke from his cigarette filling your nose which made you want to gag. You watch him spit the cigarette out from his lips onto the ground and step on it with his boot, his gaze never leaving yours. “That better  for you…sunflower?” he growled in a somewhat sarcastic and annoyed tone. 

  You felt your body tense up as you tried to swallow the lump you felt in your throat, the butterflies quickly flooding your gut as nervousness filled you. You didn't feel scared, you mainly felt shocked and nervous by his actions which caused you to struggle slightly in his grip and in return caused his grip on your wrists to grow tighter. While he hovered over you, his grip strangely never loosened around your wrists and his gaze darted up and down from your face to your lips. His breathing seemed to quicken ever so slightly as he watched you, you could feel his breath hit the base of your neck which caused you to uncontrollably blush. You didn't really notice until now how much larger he was compared to you and being this much closer you could help but notice the scar that littered his shoulders and arms, especially the one across his cheek and forehead. You felt frozen in place as he kept you there against the wall, his eyes wandering down from your lips to your throat. You could feel sweat start form on your neck from the rush of nervousness you felt as you watched his eyes trail your neck, the warmth beating on your cheeks from the blush which Johnny seemed to notice as his eyes quickly darted back up towards your eyes and his grip quickly loosening from your wrists. He let go of your wrists before stepping away from you, you could tell he was embarrassed from his actions because he was now looking away from you and rubbing the back of his neck. You kept yourself against the wall in shock, still trying to somewhat process what just happened. Your face almost beat red as you stood there. “Sorry sunflower.. I didn't mean to.. um” he stumbled with his words and he tried to find some form of an excuse for his sudden actions. You somewhat snap out of your daze and give a quick smile, stepping closer to Johnny you gently place your hand on his chest. ‘damn..’ you thought, your cheeks flushing red as you didn't really expect to feel his chest. Quickly snapping out of your thoughts you spoke up “it's ok!.. I just didn't expect that I guess.. I'm sorry for the cigarette..” you apologized. You watched as Johnny looked down at you, even seeing a bit of blush graze his cheeks from your hand. “You're fine sunflower..” he mumbled, gently taking your hand in his. “Thank you for the cookies… and I just .. wanted to see you is all. Had fun from last night” He chuckled. Bringing a smile to your face as you two began to talk a little bit more about last night until the sun started to set. 

  Johnny walked with you down his driveway and down the road towards your house, chatting and laughing as you did so. It was the most he's talked since you two began to really speak. Although he didn't really talk much about himself as he'd always bring the focus back to you and your family, which made you feel slightly off until you reached your house. Talking a bit more until Johnny turns to head back home, you quickly grab his hand. “Wanna come in?.. my father is gone for a couple of days for work so it's no problem!” You smiled, his face showing slight surprise at your offer as he nodded and you two began to walk inside “thanks” he spoke. “I didn't want you to walk back at night so soon… feels cruel.” You laughed as you shut the door behind the both of you, Johnny chuckled with you and started to look around your home. Once again you two chatted for a little while as you made food. Today was long and tiresome, so you wanted to eat something at least. Meanwhile Johnny managed to find your father's liquor cabinet and as you cooked you didn't notice Johnny come up from behind you, his arms landing on either side of you as you were chopping up some carrots. His breath hitting the back of your neck, his lips felt inches away from your neck which caused goosebumps to slowly form and you could smell the small scent of whiskey on his breath. You felt flustered as his large frame towered over you, It almost made you feel safe and yet your gut made your head turn around and give him a somewhat confused smile. “Everything alright?” You asked nervously as you put down the knife and turned yourself around to face him. “Just watching ya’ sunflower~..” he purred as he tilted his head to the side and gave a soft smirk, his hand landing on your side which caused your eyes to dart downwards towards his hand In shock and your face to almost glow red. Johnny took notice of your reaction and chuckled, he was clearly becoming tipsy because he seemed… almost different. “I ain't gonna hurt ya’…” he softly spoke as he tilted your head up with his other hand, his face slowly starting to inch closer to your's and his lips only inches apart. You gently placed a hand onto his chest to try and keep a distance from him, but your thoughts were too flustered and confused to think straight and Johnny clearly noticed as he took the opportunity to suddenly lift you up onto the counter, moving the food off the side. The smell of his whiskey and cigarettes on his breath filling your nostrils as the hand that was kept firmly on your hip, now slowly guided its way downwards onto your upper thigh as you looked up to watch his eyes. They were watching his own hands, a primal look was written on his face as he was focused on trailing his hand to the button of your pants. You felt panicked and your hand instinctively grabbed onto his wrists which seemed to catch him off guard slightly, his eyes darting up to yours as a cocky grin slid across his lips.

  “Come On sunflower..” he pleaded, quickly bringing his lips to your ear. His cheek pressing up against yours as he used both his hands to grip your hips to bring you closer to him,his large frame hovering over you as his breathing was heavy in your ear, “you've been driving me fucking crazy since I laid eyes on you..” he growled, bringing his lips to the heap of your neck as his hot breath hit against your skin. You kept a muffled whimper from escaping your throat, a shiver running up your spine as he began to nibble at your neck. The gentleness and hunger of his hand starting to glide up your shirt as he started to pick at your bra, you could feel his large hands unhook the strap of your bra and fingers clawing slowly down your back. You gently pushed him back with your hands and looking him in the eye you could see the wild look in his eyes, they looked like a wild animals. You felt extremely nervous as this was new to you, you could feel the heat on your cheeks as Johnny suddenly, yet gently, placed his hands on either side of your face and brought you into a sudden embrace. You had no time to say anything or react as your lips mingled with his, the taste of whiskey and smoke danced between your tongues as he started to push himself more into you. Using a hand, he gently lifts one of your legs up, your inner knee resting between his forearm and bicep. His grip was firm as he continued, his kisses now trail to your neck as a deep growl escaped his throat as he slowly bit down onto your shoulder. A moan shot out from your lips from his actions, only causing him to bite down slightly harder and his hands to grip tighter onto your sides. You don't know why but you couldn't help yourself, this feeling you had inside as this man practically had full control over you. You've only known him for about a week you thought and this is how he felt, yet a part of you couldn't help yourself as he bit into your neck. Your brain felt fuzzy and blank that you barely noticed him unbuttoning your pants, which caused you to quickly and instinctually grab his hand. Parting his lips from your neck, Johnny looked up at you with a gentle and caring look. “Can I?... Sunflower” He asked, his tone sweet and gentle now as his expression was awaiting your answer. Your face was red as you couldn't muster any words, or even think for that matter from the way his words rumbled through your ears. 

  You watched his face for a few seconds in shock as you thought, your mind rushing with thoughts and confusion on what to do that you simply nodded your head to him while you pressed yourself against the wall behind you. Johnny's face completely changed from caring, passionate, patient and understanding to now a look of pure hunger and craving. His lips parted from each other as his tongue swirled gently inside his mouth and across his teeth, his eyes filled with desire and lust. Something about his posture tensing made you feel uneasy or concerned as he was holding back from almost tearing you to shreds from where you sat in front of him. He was looking at you with hunger as if he was a starving animal, you wanted to ask him if he was alright, however before you could even muster your own voice you felt his lips meet yours once again. This time it was more ruff as he pressed himself into you, his tongue swirled around yours as he used one of his hands to grip the back of your neck to keep your lips firmly pressed against his. Muffled moans rumbled past your lips as you shut your eyes and he began to lift your shirt up, only parting his lips from yours as he finished taking your shirt off and tossing it to the side. Your eyelids hooded as the cool air tickled your bare skin and nipped at your bare breasts, goosebumps forming all over your torso and arms. Your breathing hitched quickly as Johnny suddenly brought his teeth to your neck and his hands cupped your breasts, his hands felt ruff yet gently at the same time as he gently squeezed them. Placing his thumbs and pressing them against your nipples as his teeth dug their way into the heap of your neck, a short painful yelp escaped you as you felt his tongue lick up the blood as he sucked. You bit your lips to keep yourself from the pain you felt, your hands gripping and clawing at his shirt. You felt Johnny's muffled chuckle against your neck as his teeth and lips parted from your neck, the drool mixed with blood dripping slightly from the comer of his lips. His dark wild eyes locked with yours as he slightly hunched himself over, cupping one of your breasts in his hand while the other trailed your side. His hot breath hitting your nipple before his mouth wrapped around your breast, causing your back to arch slightly and a quick moan to leave your throat. Johnny's eyes darted up to meet yours and started to swirl his tongue around, he was now watching your expression as you bit your lip and held back a moan. He seemed almost annoyed as he broke his lips from your breast and brought himself back up to look you in the face. “Don't hold back on me sunflower…” he growled as he brought the hand that was cupping your breast to your throat and slightly forced your head to look at him, his face only inches apart from yours. “now… let's make you more comfortable~” Johnny spoke in a hushed voice before quickly lifting you up into his arms and carrying you off to the couch in the living room and placing you down onto your back. Now hovering over you like a predator, Johnny started to grip at your pants. His fingers unbuttoning your pants before slowly sliding them off of your legs, the cool air creating goosebumps on your thighs. 

  You watched as Johnny looked over your body, every inch of you made him drool as he licked his lips. His hands gripped at the arm of the couch as he crawled his way on top of you, using his hand to unbutton himself. “I’ve Waited forever for this..” he uttered under his breath while his eyes darted around your body, his eyes making their way up to your (color) eyes. Johnny watched you as if you were a helpless animal under him, a cocky grin whipped across his lips as he brought himself closer to your body. Spreading your legs with his hips as he brought his lips to yours, his hand Wonder down to grab his decently large shaft. Your breath hitched quickly as you felt Johnny push himself into you, every inch sending shivers up your spine. Your back arched and as you were about to let out a moan you felt his hand quickly land over your mouth, your eyes widened in shock as you saw his eyes that were once filled with lust and hunger, now give a look of anger. You tried to talk but you were only muffled by his hand, however you noticed his eyes weren't on you… but the front door. ‘Did someone knock?’ you thought, you didn't hear anything though while you two laid there. 

  “Fuck..not now old man..” Johnny's body grew tense as he stayed focused on the door, although his attention seemed to way as you began to struggle underneath him. His eyes darted between you and the door as small grunts escaped his throat, his breathing staggering as his hips thrusted forward slightly. His brows furrowed in frustration and lust as he hushed you. “Mmm!” Your moan was only muffled by his hand, your hands gripped onto his shirt. “Quiet for me sunflower..” he whispered, his focus changing from the door back to you as he started to move his hips. His hand still covered your mouth as he thrusted into you, his breath hot and thick against your skin as your moans were kept muffled. 

!!KNOCK KNOCK!!

You jumped slightly from the banging on your door, Johnny only gritted his teeth as he pulled himself out of you slowly while letting a muffled groan leave his throat. He gave you a hush gesture before fixing himself up and walking towards the door angrily, you quickly gathered yourself up and rushed to at least put your bra back on. You then covered yourself with a blanket that sat on your father's chair before walking over to see who was at the door, hearing muffled yelling. You made your way closer to the door, pressing your ear against it as you heard Johnny arguing with Drayton outside. “The hell you doin here old man!” You heard Johnny get more aggressive with his tone, Drayton spat back at Johnny but you couldn't exactly hear him over Johnny. “I told ya’! I have it under control!” You heard Johnny spat. You were too focused on their conversation however to hear light footsteps behind you…

“Well ain't Cha a pretty thing!” You heard behind you, you felt your eyes shoot open as you slowly turned your head to face whoever lingered behind you. Your eyes looked over a scrawny and almost greasy look man, his black hair parted down the middle looked slimy as parts of it covered his face. A strange red mark laid across his right cheek, nearly cover his eye, you noticed him wear a baggy green T-shirt and light gray pants.You noticed the animal necklace around his neck as you nearly gagged as the smell of him, the man seemed to notice your reaction as he began to laugh like a mad man. “W-who the fuck are you?!” You yelled as you pressed yourself up against the door, the only response you got was another laugh from the man before he jumped towards you. A scream roared through your throat as you struggled against the scrawny man, his hand going to cover your mouth before hitting you over the head with a nearby object. Your head grew heavy as your body met the floor, your eyes shutting before everything grew black… “Nighty night! Hahaha!”

END OF CHAPTER 4

Special Tags - @thisissky @lil-spider @bbyfimmie 💋❤️

I apologize for this chapter being so late! I was struggling on how to make this good.. and I was cringing at myself a little bit too. I suck at making smut so I hope this works for now lol! Anyways I hope you enjoyed! 💋💋💋

//CHAPTER 5//

[timeclipsed]

@hiswrlds asked: The blue blur's color is vibrant against the purity of winter's coat . It dashes throughout the curves of forests, leaving clear paths in the woods for whoever decides to venture. It speeds across a crystalline frozen lake, the ice takes a few seconds to melt by the severity of speedster's heat after he's already gone . And he continues, unabashedly scarring the winter wonderland until he spots a certain bundle of warm layers & warmer amber fur . " Tails !! " He calls out loudly, somehow managing a perfect halt to speeding pace without tumbling over into the snow . Steam emerges from beneath every footstep now, melting the snow as shoes adjust to temperature & he takes leisurely simple steps towards the fox . As he trots, one can spot a gift bag bouncing on a sling to his arm, and one can only wonder how it managed to survive the trip here at all . " I'm glad I found you, here, I got you something . " Gloved hand reaches inside the bag to pull out a simple caramel brown scarf, it's ... quite big . A really large scarf, Sonic has to put the bag on the ground to be able to hold the length of the scarf with both hands . At the very end corner of it, there are flowers in blue & yellow embroidery, which doesn't look like the work of skilled hands . The blue hedgehog smiles regardless, sharp-toothed grin a little sheepish . " Did the flowers myself, I know they're not really special, but they were the easiest shapes . " It's very hard to admit he's inadept in certain aspects, but he tried . " I know it's not the time for gift-gifting yet, but I didn't know if we'll be able to see each other when it is, so ... "

— ;; CONCURRENTLY ADDRESSED AND GIFTED THE homespun article of warmth, he stares rather wide-eyed and astonished at both it and the gift giver. Strive's guest appearances in his life had become more frequent over weeks and months, to the point where no one at the shop batted an eye whenever he strode in unannounced, flopping down somewhere to make himself at home or to begin trailing Tails during his afternoon tasks.

There shouldn't be a reason, he thinks, why he's this surprised at the fact that Strive would go out of his way to concoct the perfect present for him in the name of the holidays, but nevertheless he still finds himself dry in the throat and rapid blinking away the daring emotions. How long this must have taken, the cost of the garnered materials, the many attempts it certainly took to complete to a level of arguable perfection. One glance can easily read his admitted delectation just by studying his facial features for a second, by noting the way he trails digits along the stitchwork, admiring every bit of the piece gratefully.

Enmity soon fills his stomach at the thought, however, at the audacity, ebbing him further into a spiraling path of seclusion. For him to want to be this close, to already feel this close, to make this trip so frequently, all just because he wants to. Following an invisible line of moral code that jumbles up and reads nonsensical to anyone else who'd dare step up in an attempt to understand.

Betrayed, even then, by the spark of jubilance the scarf brings him, which balled fists clamp rigidly down onto, he realizes he has to end this now. Before they attach at the hip, before his own feelings come spilling out haphazardly, before he learns how to love again.

❝Oh yeah, cool. Thanks. I think there's space for it somewhere in my closet.❞ Spoken flatly, carelessly bunching it up within one hand, he turns to make his way back into the shop. ❝I didn't get you anything. Sorry or whatever. Seeya!❞

— ;; INSTANTANEOUS REMORSE SETTLES DEEP WITHIN as he slams the door in Strive's face, but he doubles down, flipping the OPEN sign around to read a reddened, bolded CLOSED. Scurrying away, briskly, escaping up the stairs and into his bedroom, a trademark red scarf is promptly discarded onto the floor, replacing the fabric wrapping around his neck with the new flowery, caramel one.

Sinking to the ground onto tremulous knees, arms wrap around his form tightly. Wails leave his lips, cradling himself back and forth to self-soothe effetely.

❝It's beautiful,❞ he susurrates, vicious hiccupping sobs shortstopping words and syllables, ❝it's one of the best gifts I've ever gotten. You idiot, you stupid dumb idiot, I love it. I... I love you. Please stop coming back. Please...❞

[shiawasekai]

So I've been giving a lot of thought to Nela's self-image issues, aka the cognitive dissonance that makes it so she can't recognize herself in a mirror (+ all the extra issues mounted on top of that). Because, yes, Samel's arrival knocks her out from her downward spiral and starts her on the road of Proper Mourning and Actually Dealing With Her Grief... But it does very little to cover the other side of the problem beyond unveiling its existence to others.

After all, no amount of people saying she looks good is going to help. It has never been about looking good or bad, that's the lesser of her problems.

Further disclaimer: at any point when I talk about Nela's post-game recovery, I don't mean it in a "she's fixed now" way. She IS a different person now because of what happened to her. The consequences and the baggage is something she'll carry her entire life, something that will keep shaping her choices. Especially the self-image issues, those are notoriously hard to wholly fight off.

It's also not something that gets immediately fixed. It's a long and hard process and it takes years. Sometimes it sees no progress at all in months, sometimes there are setbacks and... Sometimes there is a milestone that helps her take one leap forward in a very short time.

And what I was searching is the latter, because if I tried to have her just look to a mirror until her brain decided to accept the reflection as Nela, I would have her self-harming again. Which is fine as a setback to spice up the process, but not what I'm looking for here.

And I'm having a hard time trying to describe the scene in my head, so bear with me here.

I think most people have at some point fantasized about an older version of themselves. A dream job, maybe having that pet your family always denied to you. The key element is you fantasized about this older version of yourself.

And that's what I want to exploit.

I did establish before that Nela's family was... not rich. They did fine for the times they lived, all things considered, but they had no money to splurge. I've also mentioned often her parents were tailors, and both twins helped out at their shop and learnt the trade (mostly Samel, Nela was a terrible apprentice and ended up taking tasks like bookkeeping and cleaning instead).

The image I had is of a young teenaged Nela watching her mother work, absolutely taken by the outfit she's working on. It's not in any style the practical Nela usually likes, and yet she truly cannot stop looking at it.

Her mother notices her daughter's interest, and promises her to make it for her when she's older and a bit more civilised. They'll get the money for some good fabric too.

Nela is too much of a teenager to ever admit it and grumbles instead, but a part of her is dreaming with that day. With nice clothes in pretty colours, with the indulgence of it. Money is tight and often the choice is between food or clothes. Sometimes they even need to go out and forage, taxes have gone up again. It doesn't look like the war is going to end anytime soon.

Many years later, Nela is standing in front of a mirror in an outfit so, so similar to the one that distant day. And, for the first time ever since she awakened in Kenabres, the person looking back isn't a stranger: it's the woman she once was in her fantasies. She recognizes her.

It's not quite a perfect match. Her dream adult self didn't have that many feathers, or scars from war. Her mother never got to make it for her, but that one memory of an unfulfilled promise is now an anchor that connects the past and the present.

For the first time in years at that point, she sees herself in the mirror.

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @mysticstarlightduck!

OC Deep Dive Tag

Rules: Answer these questions for your oc!

I'm in kind of an Izjik mood :3

What uncommon/common fear do they have?

Izjik is afraid of drowning. This might seem strange for a catfish selkie, but myths of halawemavar suddenly losing their ability to transform and drowning as they try to return home are relatively common ghost stories where she grew up. It terrified her as a kid, and even as an adult, the idea of drowning makes her shudder.

Do they have any pet peeves?

People who act uppity about academic stuff. This might also seem strange, as she lives in a house with girl genius and the world's angriest music prodigy, but Twenari and Sepo never talk down to her. It's when people act like they're better than her for having an education that she gets frustrated.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Handmade fishing lures, some super crusty work boots, and hidden food. Izjik always keeps some hidden food around.

What do they notice first in a person?

How dangerous they are. Izjik has been on the run for years now, so it's habit to clock any hidden weapons or suspiciously scarred knuckles.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

10/10, this woman is a berserker. She's got that old farmhand, walk into the doctor holding your severed arm pain tolerance. This does not apply to minor colds and allergies, in which case she's a 1/10.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Definitely fight. Izjik is a twitchy person and has had to fight tooth and nail to survive many times. She's very jumpy with her knife. However, she's just as likely to turn tail if she knows she can't win.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

Halawemavar family culture is pretty different from human family culture. Izjik wasn't raised by her parents - she was raised by her whole enclave. All the children of her generation were raised like siblings, and all the adults were their parents. So I'll say big family.

What animal represents them best?

Visually, either a catfish or a snapping turtle. Personality wise, I'd say a sheepdog.

What is a smell that they dislike?

Patchouli. She doesn't like any strong smells, to be fair. Halawemavar have very sensitive senses of smell. But she associates patcholi with incense shops, which she hates.

Have they broken any bones?

Yup. She broke her skull as a kid when she tried to knock down a tree by headbutting it. She later broke her wrist in a fight while fighting in the Trench, and has cracked her ribs countless times.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

"Gods beyond, what a scruffy looking redneck. She was tiny but broad as a brick, with muscles like a sack full of stones. Her hair was silver, though she couldn't have been over thirty, and her face was scarred and sun-freckled. Her teeth were fucking scary. I'll bet she could've bit through barbed wire."

Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

Morning bird. Izjik loves to wake with the sunrise.

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

A flavor she loves is fish. Izjik’s favorite food is raw fish. A flavor she hates is bread. She hates bread because pretty much her entire diet is raw fish.

Do they have any hobbies?

Izjik likes to fight, fuck, party, and play. She lives life to its fullest. More specific hobbies include fishing, home maintenance, and camping.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

She'd immediately jump to grab her weapon, only to relax once she realizes it's just her friends. After that, she'd be so excited to party.

Do they like to wear jewelry?

Nothing more than a bracelet woven from straw.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

She's ✨️illiterate✨️

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Excitement and righteous fury.

Do they have a favorite fabric?

Probably cotton. She ain't fancy.

What kind of accent do they have?

Realistically, a halawemavar accent is something between Xhosa and Polish. In my head, she has a New Zealander accent.

I'll tag @kaylinalexanderbooks @rivenantiqnerd @i-eat-worlds and anyone else who wants in :)

Blanks under the cut

What uncommon/common fear do they have? Do they have any pet peeves? What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom? What do they notice first in a person? On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?What animal represents them best? What is a smell that they dislike? Have they broken any bones? How would a stranger likely describe them? Are they a night owl or a morning bird? What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love? Do they have any hobbies? Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises? Do they like to wear jewelry?Do they have neat or messy handwriting? What are the two emotions they feel the most? Do they have a favorite fabric?What kind of accent do they have?