#OP SHOP DECOR

[heavenbarnes]

Hiiii! Random q, are you more of a minimalist or a maximalist? Me personally, I love a trinket….or 25 🤣

oh i am a big maximalist! our flat is full of colour, eclectic furniture, little things everywhere! i think i’d go crazy (crazier) living minimalist 🫶🏼

[cheeriochat]

My wig head everyone, say hello!!

[cuntvillage]

1. An art print I found at an op shop for $10 I had to lug home for 20 minutes in the summer sun, overlaying it are some pinterest images and a sculpture I had to make out of 3 seperate created forms

2. A Seastar has photographed at Brighton beach and a lamp and some posters in my friends old room

3. Poster layout section on the wall of my old apartment

4. A bible and some doilies laid out on my coffee table

5. A snippet of a film shown in an exhibit at the Heide

[cloudzoro]

Kink Discovery | One Piece ♡

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individual reaction/headcanon scenarios on kink discovery with op characters!

theres part 2 and part 3 featuring more characters :)

part 2 | part 3 | masterlist

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genre: smut (minors dni)

characters included: Ace, Law, Nami, Robin, Sanji & Zoro

cw: spitting, biting, rough sex, sub!sanji, squirting, high heels, lingerie, fem!reader, big dick!law, big dick!zoro, possessive behaviour

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Ace - hair-pulling

Ace is such a giver. He loves eating you out. He works his tongue over your folds before lowering down and dipping his tongue into your hole. What he lacks in strategy he makes up for tenfold in passion. He's eager to please. You writhe around with pleasure and, with nowhere to hold onto, your hands naturally slide onto his hair.

You don't catch the first time he grunts at the way you grip his gorgeous hair but, when you give a particularly harsh tug, he can't stop the moan that leaves his mouth in response to the stinging of his scalp. He knows he's been caught so he pulls away from your cunt to look at you.

“do that again”

You oblige, gripping his locks tighter and pushing his head back between your legs.

Law - biting

“We gotta be quiet, baby”, he whispers, covering your mouth with his hand. He has you against the wall in his room and is trying to keep you as quiet as possible so you don't get caught by any of his crew. His cock thrusts in and out of you, and it has you going delirious. You're deliciously stretched out that you can't help but moan into his hand.

Law isn't faring much better; the warm walls of your cunt squeeze his cock in a way that has him gripping the wall behind you. His orgasm is so close he can practically taste it. In the heat of the moment, with nothing else to muffle the sounds he makes, he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. The pleasurable sting pushes you over the edge with him, and you all but scream into his palm.

When he finally catches his breath he leans back, keeping his arms out to steady you, and admires the red bite mark decorating your shoulder. The marks make a possessive fire ripple through his body.

“this looks so pretty"

Nami - lingerie

Nami loves shopping. She often ends up buying clothes she thinks you'll look pretty in, so it's no surprise to you when she returns to the sunny, waving a shopping bag around in front of your face. She leaves the room, wanting to be surprised when you put her gift on. You open the bag to see a pretty red lingerie set. It's beautiful, just the type of stuff you'd imagined Nami would be into. Delicate lace in a scorching red colour is right up her alley.

She walks into the room and it's as if she's seeing you for the first time. You look like a present, gift wrapped for her pleasure. She guides you to stand in front of her, between her legs, while she sits on the bed. She leans forward, pressing tender kisses to your stomach and hips as her hands trace the lace covering your most intimate areas. Her fingers slide under the back of the panties and she grabs two handfuls of ass to pull you on top of her.

Now that you're seated comfortably on her lap, she's at a prefect height to show some appreciation for your tits. She whispers sweet praises as she lines the edge of the pretty lace bra with kisses. She's never taken this long to undress you before and you already know she'll have you shaking and begging before she's ready to unwrap her pretty little present.

Robin - squirting

Robin has you seated on her lap, legs spread open by two of her ‘arms’. She has two more of her arms playing with your pussy; one hand slides in and out of your used cunt, which is sensitive from already cumming twice, and the other is rubbing your swollen clit. Her real hands are gripping your tits, squeezing them and rolling your nipples between her fingers.

You had mentioned off-handedly that you can squirt, and Robin was immediately fascinated. She quickly became obsessed with the idea of making you gush for her. Your body is thoroughly shaking, and her lips pressing messy, wet kisses to your neck and shoulders does little to soothe you. You can feel another orgasm buying, and you don't get the chance to warn her before you arch so hard you almost fall off of her lap. A gushing noise accompanies your heavy breaths.

She can't decide what captivates her more; the way your legs shake with overstimulation or the way you whine and whimper her name. Pleased with her results she brings her soaked hand up to her mouth and licks your release from her fingers.

Sanji - submission

Sanji has always had puppy-like qualities; he follows you around and is incredibly affectionate towards you at all times. His love for you borders on worship, and you're surprised it's taken this long for that dynamic to work itself into your relationship. He brings up the idea of dirty talk first, just simple degradation, but over time, he gets bolder and bolder.

He gets a collar so you can drag him around to where you want to be. He buys you shoes at every place so you can look the part when you step on him. He's happy to get on his knees and eat your perfect pussy until you're crying. He wants nothing more than to be at your service twenty-four-seven. He remembers the first time he submitted to you so clearly.

“Good boy,” you say, slipping two fingers under his collar and pulling him into a sloppy kiss. It's rare for him to hear the phrase without degrading words preceding it. He whines into your mouth, desperate to get some release after you've been teasing him all day. “you can let go now,” you say, pressing your heeled shoe against his crotch. Being the good boy he is, his body follows through, and he cums in his pants at the pressure under your shoe.

Zoro - spitting

“You like that?” Zoro asks as he drills into you. He likes to have you in missionary so he can watch your face while he fucks you. You grit a response out through your teeth, barely able to get the words out. Another deep thrust makes you moan wildly, throwing your head back against the pillows. Your open mouth looks so inviting to the swordsman who reaches one of his hands up to your face to grip your jaw. “keep that pretty mouth open for me”

Zoro doesn't know what comes over him but he spits into your mouth. It's gross and possessive, just like him. You whine at the feeling of his spit hitting your tongue and you feel his cock twitch at the sound. You thought he couldn't fuck you any harder but you're proved wrong when he readjusts his grip on your legs. He watches your throat as you swallow and the grin plastered on his face is demonic.

“that's so fucking hot, you're such a good girl�� The image of you letting him corrupt and defile you with his spit spurs him on to his orgasm. He holds off the best he can until you cum and then he finally lets himself go, panting and leaving trails of saliva across your pretty skin.

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thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :)

likes and reblogs are massively appreciated

[ceratedfish24]

raises mic 2 u. snowangel headcanons?

(I have one that i'll share: their relationship p much kicked off in limited life when, one night, skizz couldn't sleep, so went out to the beach to get some air. coincidentally there was a certain fish in the water... Scott made and carved an intricate netherite sword for skizz as an apology for the boogey kill. it couldn't exactly be used on the LiL server (op + had some Old Galactic enchants like loyalty, which is non-applicable on the Life servers), but it carried over into every other server skizz joined. with that rather over-the-top gift, the conversation... spiralled. and ended with them the next morning making cookies and being gay)

That is SO cute and they ABSOLUTELY bake together. Skizz can’t follow a recipe he doesn’t make every other day to save his life. Scott doesn’t need a recipe. He knows most basic recipes by heart.

My personal headcanons?

Scott is REALLY good at hiding that something’s bothering him, but Skizz can read him like a book. Skizz might not be the most observant person, but his people skills are like no other. Scott used to be surprised and dismissive whenever Skizz called him out on it, but now he just collapses into Skizz’s arms, knowing that there’s no point in hiding that something, no matter how small, is upsetting him.

Skizz has mentioned that he could fall asleep in Scott’s arms, and so I absolutely headcanon that, when Skizz can’t fall asleep, he lays his head in Scott’s lap and asks Scott to sing for him. Scott will drop anything and everything to do this whenever asked.

Scott bought Skizz a whole new wardrobe. Dragged him to every store and made him try on so many clothes. Skizz was just happy to be there. He struck over exaggerated poses every time he showed Scott a new outfit. Scott clapped and cheered and hummed and hawed the whole time.

Scott and Skizz have completely different family favorite dishes. Sharing them with one another is a very important part of their relationship. Skizz comes from a world of meats and roasted vegetables and biscuits and gravy. Scott comes from a world of various pastas and steamed vegetables and different ways of serving rice. They like their own food, but they really love the other’s food, and cooking for each other and with each other is always the highlight of their day.

Scott loves to go all out for the holidays. Whether it’s Halloween, Christmas, Valentines, New Years, whatever, he goes all out. Skizz isn’t the type of guy who’s self motivated to put up decorations, but he does enjoy the decorations and putting work into something that makes his hardworking sweetheart of a partner so happy.

Skizz and Scott are both very social people. They’re the ones who put on holiday parties and Friendsgiving every year. Most couples would stress out about this and divide tasks unevenly and get frustrated, but I genuinely don’t think Skizz and Scott would struggle with this. With their experience, Skizz would immediately have a prioritized list of everything that needs to get done, Scott has a vision about how he thinks it should look, Skizz inherently trusts Scott’s vision and helps Scott get everything he needs, and then Skizz and Scott work together to make it all happen and it’s a hit every time. Scott is so grateful not to have to take complete charge of every event he wants to put on, and Skizz is so grateful to have someone with such an artistic mind grace his life like this.

Scott is a book lover, so Skizz built him a beautiful old-fashion style bookshelf. Skizz swears that Scott loves the bookshelf more than he loves Skizz.

These two for SURE go for walks. They’ll walk anywhere. They love to walk through parks. They love to walk on boardwalks. They love to window shop. It’s one of their favorite ways to wind down together.

They share a scarf when it’s cold. Skizz often forgets that they are sharing a scarf and will try to wander away or bend down. Scott is offended every time.

Skizz is not the type of guy to start a fight when it really matters. When it comes down to it, Skizz is a professional at de-escalating a situation and handling it maturely. In a game, though? Skizz will defend Scott’s honor to no end, die about it, and dramatically fall over with declarations of loyalty and peace with his decisions.

Scott isn’t the type of guy to start a fight either. He is the type of guy to get you fired if you insult his man badly enough, regardless of whether or not your career is relevant to the offense you’re being fired for. Nobody ever knows that it’s him who does it. Not even Skizz realizes this is happening. Scott didn’t start this feud, but he will end it and in one single move.

Skizz isn’t usually a sweets guy, but Scott is a “what if we got a sweet little treat🥺” guy, and Skizz gives in every single time.

Scott is a passenger prince, and Skizz willingly sets up the passenger seat with blankets, snacks, drinks, and stuff to do. Scott never expects it, and he’s grateful every time.

Scott is a clean freak. Skizz isn’t a dirty person, but he’s also not a clean freak. It doesn’t bother Skizz, and Scott uses it as an excuse to have something to do when he’s overwhelmed and Skizz isn’t home.

Skizz took Scott to a carnival, and it was the first time Scott had ever been on a ferris wheel. He’s not particularly afraid of heights. He just has never had much a reason to go on one. It seems like such a two or more people activity, and Scott just never had someone else want to go. He doesn’t realize that people aren’t exaggerating how romantic it can be until he’s up at the top with Skizz’s arms wrapped around him.

Their first kiss happened because Skizz offhandedly said something that made Scott laugh, and Skizz unconsciously zeroed in on the sound of Scott’s laugh and kissed him without even thinking about it. The sound of Scott’s laugh and the mirth in his eyes was just too overwhelming for Skizz. He pulled back immediately afterwards, but Scott wouldn’t let him go.

I know they’re the same height, but Skizz is slightly taller to me.

Skizz will kiss Scott ANYWHERE. Scott’s hands are a common place, but anywhere that is Scott and that is available in the moment is free game to Skizz.

Skizz didn’t know how to dance before he got with Scott, and now they dance everyday, even if it’s just swaying while one of them hums with a frozen lasagna in the oven.

Skizz loves cheesy mugs, and Scott keeps indulging him. They have a dedicated mug cabinet. Everyone else keeps calling them crazy, but Scott insists that no one can talk about his boyfriend like that.

Skizz was not a jewelry guy before he met Scott. Scott gifts Skizz so much jewelry, and Skizz can’t deny that Scott knows what he’s doing. That man has taste. Every piece so naturally enhances Skizz’s style, and, best of all, they always remind him of Scott, wherever he goes. He got his ears re-pierced for Scott.

Scott is a ring gay irl (we are KIN), and I completely headcanon that with his character. Skizz takes notice of the rings he wears the most often and buys him so many more. Every one that Skizz buys him is Scott’s favorite. Skizz knows Scott’s ring size per finger by heart. This information will be very useful when Skizz wants to propose.

Also, with the amount of work Scott does everyday, Skizz totally bought him a gorgeous blue pen with Scott’s name engraved on it. The ink shimmers without glittering. It’s just enough dramatic flair. Scott has not used a different pen since Skizz gave this to him.

Skizz is a complete sports head. Scott can’t name even one single sport, but he will be damned if he doesn’t support Skizz’s interests. He makes so much food every time Impulse comes over to watch a game. He buys tickets to see local games. He has NO idea what’s going on, but, if it’s men’s sports, he’ll point at the player he thinks is the hottest. Skizz will then, playfully, blow up about why Skizz himself is the hottest, thank you very much, and lather Scott’s face with kisses that tickle. Scott may not know sports, but he does educate himself a little on Skizz’s favorite teams and their players and history. He’s nothing if not supportive.

They’re not a “I need to bite you” couple, but Scott is a “I need to feel you” partner. He’ll sporadically and frantically grab onto Skizz throughout the day. It’s his dose of exercising his right, as Skizz’s boyfriend, to have casual touch with Skizz without it seeming weird. At first, Skizz would stop what he’s doing or saying whenever it happened and ask Scott if he’s okay. Scott’s response is to stare into space for several seconds and then return to what he’s doing. Now, Skizz doesn’t so much as bat an eye when this happens. If anyone asks why Scott does it, Skizz will say that Scott has magic powers and is “analyzing my genetics to figure out how I’m so sexy”. Scott will say “cause I can and no one thinks it’s that strange. Could you imagine if you did it to Skizz? Weird. I’d have to kill you.”

Skizz is a sitcoms guy. Scott is a musicals guy. This does not stop them from getting entirely too invested in the other’s preferred form of media.

Scott loves to take pictures of Skizz, but he always forgets to take pictures of himself. He’s very subtle about it. His camera roll is full of pictures of Skizz, both photogenic ones and not. When Skizz is gone at night, whether working late or on a trip, and Scott can’t sleep, Scott scrolls through his favorite pictures of Skizz.

Skizz tends to be an “in the moment” guy, but, when Scott is particularly photogenic and in amazing lighting, Skizz yells “STAY RIGHT THERE. DON’T MOVE. DON’T CHANGE YOUR EXPRESSION.” Scott will freeze, but his face will do that thing he does where he’s smiling like everything’s okay, but his eyes are wide and unsure and looking around frantically. Skizz will then spend over five minutes trying to find his phone, which is in his pocket the whole time.

Skizz gets frustrated when he has bad days. He sighs a lot and gets more pessimistic than normal and gets angry about little things. Scott’s response is to cup his face press his forehead head to Skizz’s and take deep breaths until Skizz leans into him. Then, they talk about Skizz’s day.

Scott gets teary eyed and anxious on his bad days. He frets about things he usually doesn’t, and he over analyzes every little interaction he has with everybody. He bites his nails, does chores, and grabs onto Skizz more often. When Skizz starts seeing these behaviors, he hugs Scott really tight for several seconds and then softens the hug as a way of releasing all the tension in Scott’s body. Scott melts every time, and he usually falls asleep ten minutes later, exhausted from all that stress.

Scott’s hair is naturally blue. Skizz didn’t know this until he wanted to dye his own hair the same shade just to get a reaction out of Scott. When he couldn’t find Scott’s hair dye, he confronted him about it like a kid who just found out that their parents put the cookie jar on a shelf they can’t reach. Scott laughed so hard.

Skizz is an outdoors person. Scott is not. Scott does it anyway, because you can’t keep your outdoor dog (Skizz) inside all day. It’s just not healthy. He tries to release bugs back into the wild, but he screams every time they move. It always makes Skizz laugh.

Scott has a playlist for absolutely everything. He has never played his Skizz💙 playlist in front of Skizz. He has absolutely played it in front of Cleo, Joel, Gem, Lizzie, and Martyn to the point where they are so sick of it. They unwillingly know every song on that damn list. Joel and Martyn are working together to play it in front of Skizz. It will never work.

Y’all, Skizz has angel wings and Scott has snow owl wings from Empires SMP Season 1. They can preen each other. Their bed is specifically made for people with wings. Also, both of their wings come from divine sources. I’m sure there’s some kind of holy oil or something that Scott washes his wings with once a week that Skizz knows nothing about. Skizz’s wings are so messy. Scott is appalled. He has to teach Skizz proper wing care.

Thank you for reading my ramble!! I wrote a lot because I didn’t want to give you like three if you were expecting more, but then I couldn’t stop💙🩵

[mrsparrasblog]

Makarov x Price Daughter pt.5

Ngl I was sobbing when I wrote it, when you come to the price part listen to "Slipping through my fingers" will make it better.

Im unsure about if we want a Price or Makarov ending, because the next chapter will be the last.

Previous part. next part

You were surprised by how much freedom you had since you accepted his proposal. You could walk around Russia, of course, with your guards because you knew how dangerous life could be, especially without Vlad, who always protected you.

You even found friends Vlad introduced you to Milena, and you always had a blast. She was funny and confident, and you liked that.

Today, you were shopping for a wedding dress, and Vlad gave you his card. You knew nothing was off-limits; you were well off. You didn’t know much, just that he was filthy rich. When people saw you walking in, knowing you were the future Mrs. Makarov, they literally bowed. The press called you the princess of Russia, and you felt like one. You picked out the dress of your dreams without going overboard, but you looked stunning. You asked the tailor to make it adjustable. By the rate you and Vlad had sex since the engagement, you wouldn’t wonder if you were already pregnant.

Sometimes you forget about all the circumstances you met. Maybe it was biology protecting you, or maybe your big heart thinking about how no one in your life ever treated you better than him. Did anyone even miss you from your old life? Certainly not, or your Dad would have at least found you. He was a special ops captain, so if he wanted to, he would.

“Моя жена, why are you crying? We will be wed tomorrow; you should be happy,” he asked. He slowly got used to your overly sensitive character; of course, he saw you as a weak dear, but that made the appeal. In his position, having a wife was a luxury; having a soft, innocent wife was like a status symbol to him. Other people in his position kept their private lives hidden. But he was Vladimir Makarov. He didn’t have to fear anything; he could show you around everywhere like a prize, and his enemies wouldn’t even dare to cross him.

“Just sad that Dad won't walk me down the aisle,” you admitted.

You missed your Dad; you always would, even if he was a shitty dad. He was all you had for years until Vlad changed everything for you. Now, he was all you needed and depended on. Even if you would want to leave, you knew you can’t. You were too well-known here; all your money belonged to him. God, his name was tattooed on your soft skin, a claim he wanted to give you before marrying you.

“I invited him, моя жена,” you couldn’t believe him; he invited your Dad, he really did it.

“You did?”

“Everything for you, princess.”

You crunched over the toilet seat a few hours before your wedding, holding the stick close that could determine your whole life. In these moments, you missed your best friend or someone you could talk to. You loved Vlad with all your heart; you really did. After everything he did for you, how couldn’t you? It was needed. But still, sometimes, a small, faint little voice in your head screamed at you, telling you he kidnapped you. But he saved you from a miserable life, didn’t he?

You peed on that damn stick, waiting for the results to finally show. Should you be happy, sad, or what? The result didn’t surprise you, though. It would be okay; you knew it would be coming, and you loved kids, right?

Your bridesmaids helped you with the wedding dress, hair, and makeup, and you were prepared now to walk down the aisle, unfortunately without your father bringing you to the supposed love of your life. The church was decorated luxuriously with all the flowers you could only imagine, and you walked towards the men who looked at you like you were the only woman on earth, suddenly, your doubts went silent as you almost ran towards him at the altar.

“Today I can finally call you Mrs. Makarov,” he whispered in your ear.

“You call me your wife for a year.”

“But now it's real,” he smiled at you, kissing your forehead, and the ceremony started. You were happy about your Russian teacher so you understood everything. You were surprised that he prepared his own vows; you thought it would be the fast “I promise to be with you through sickness and health” to not appear vulnerable, but he did it for you, showing you it was real. The man unable to love—loved you.

“My Princess,

As I stand here today, I cannot help but laugh at the twists of fate that have brought us together. In a life marked by shadows and violence, you emerged as a beacon of light—a flicker of hope in a world tainted by darkness.

Lying, cheating, and betraying were never hard for me and never will be. I could promise you to change, be the man you deserve, and be a good man who will never lie to you or hurt anyone else. But I've decided to not lie to you today or any day in my life.

I make no promises of transformation, for I am who I am, a man stained by the choices I've made. But in you, I've found something worth protecting, worth fighting for. You, with your unwavering faith in me, have softened the edges of my hardened soul. Your love has shown me glimpses of a life beyond the one I've known—a life filled with love, laughter, and the simple joys I never dared to dream of or never even knew could be possible for a man like me.

I may not change for you, my love, but I vow to stand by your side, to shield you from the consequences of my actions, to love you fiercely in the only way I know how.

I promise to never let anything happen to you, to protect you from my enemies. I promise you that I will burn the whole world down for you without a second of hesitation. I promise to kill for you, fight for you, and cherish you.

I promise to never look at another woman the way I look at you. Then, in a world where I am defined by my sins, you see beyond the labels, beyond the façade, beyond the money, the power, to the flawed man beneath. You fell in love with Vladimir and not Vladimir Makarov. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

With every beat of my heart, I choose you. And I promise you, if death takes us apart, I'll pull your hand and bring you back from the death and find you in every other life. For better or for worse, in this life and the next, you are mine, and I am yours.“

You almost cried. You thought about a lot of things, but not this kind of vows. It was almost vulnerable if you forgot the killing part, and the longer you looked at his beautiful eyes, you almost forgot the way you got to know him or that your dad, your best friend, and no one you really knew was here. Did it really matter? If he is here, you are safe and cherished. Now it was time for your vows.

“Vlad—sorry for the sobbing,” you laughed, removing the tears before you continued your vows.

“When we first met, I didn’t know who you were. You were just Vlad to me, and this was the man I fell in love with��the man who taunted me for my mint chocolate chip ice cream.

The circumstances we became a couple were odd, but I'm a long time away from despising you. You gave me the safety, guidance, and attention I longed for my whole life. It was like you slowly found your way into a missing piece of my heart, and I know loving you isn’t easy. Exactly like loving me will be hard, but I promise to always support you, cherish you, and never judge you for a day in my life.

I promise to accept you the way you are and never make you doubt my love for you.”

You kissed, and the wedding was final; you were Mrs. Makarov now, with a child in your womb he didn’t even know of. Of course, you knew he would be more than happy about this; it's what he wanted. He carried you out of the church with ease where you got to eat bread with salt, a Russian wedding tradition you never heard of.

When you thought the church looked posh, you were even more surprised about the reception. Every guest was clothed fine with tuxedos and high-fashion dresses. The guests were mostly influential people from around the world. You knew Vlad loved you, but you also couldn’t deny the political effect your wedding had. Vlad wanted even more than what he already had; he thought about getting a lead political role in Russia, operating not only from the background but from the front, and the way you charmed your way into the hearts of the Russian citizens was perfect for his plan. Everyone loved you, how nice and down to earth you were, the 10,000 photoshoots with orphans and rescued dogs helped him, and you were such a good wife helping him to reach his goals. But he didn’t talk about his goals with you, telling you to not worry your pretty head about it.

The ceiling was with opulent Chandelier; everywhere were your favorite kind of flowers. A huge buffet filled with caviar, lobster, truffle, and every delicacy you knew and everything you could dream of was there. It was like a wedding out of a Disney movie, just with a champagne tower. „Don periogn,“ the waiter said as he gave you a glass, which you declined; alcohol wasn’t in for you right now.

Your husband greeted the guests and then clung his glass of champagne to your orange juice, his head moved to your pulsing neck, and his breath ran hot, making your hair go up. „Congratulations Mrs. Makarov, I hope it will be a boy,“ he whispered in your ear, his hand slowly trailing down to the barely noticeable bump on your belly where his heir would grow.

„How do you know?“

„Your breasts are bigger, you are more moody, and you drink orange juice on your own wedding,“ he said, looking at you as if you were dumb for even questioning his deduction skills.

You started your wedding dance, and it went smoothly and romantically; how couldn’t it after all the dancing lessons you two had? You even had a bit of etiquette lessons with Milena, which were honestly fun. While one part of your brain screamed for you to wake up, telling you this isn’t the dream you thought of, more of a nightmare, the other part of your brain enjoyed this, how much power you had, how Vlad treated you, and how you were the center of attention right now. The press loved you; everyone loved you, everyone just not your Dad, you thought.

“Captain, why do we have tuxedos on?” Kyle complained outside of the big building that had more security than the NATO meetings.

“We can’t just storm in with gear, sneaky, we have an invitation,” they walked in, making them confused about how easy that was; maybe it was a trap from Makarov, but Price didn’t care as long as he had you back.

When they walked inside the wedding, they saw your wedding dress, how you were wrapped in Vlad's arm like a priceless possession, and how happy you looked.

“Aye, didn’t tell us your daughter was such a looker, Cap,” Soap commented, not able to keep his eyes from your beautiful frame, earning a punch from Ghost for his unprofessional behavior. Your dad was too deep in his thoughts to acknowledge Soap's banter.

He looked at you, realizing how he missed your wedding. He didn’t care about the circumstances anymore; he wasn’t Captain Price anymore; he was the man you called Dad so many times. He never got the chance to walk you down the aisle, how he intended to; he never helped you pick out the dress of your dreams, telling a man he would kill them if they touched you; he missed all of it. And if he was true to himself, he missed even more by his behavior towards you. Of course, he was young when he got you, but he never will experience your graduation that he missed, never saw you dancing Clara in the Nutcracker in your pink tutu.

He got only pulled deeper into his feelings the longer he watched you swirl around; this was it; he could kill Makarov, but it didn’t change the fact that you aren’t his little girl anymore. You will never ask him to look under your bed for monsters; you will never run to his bed again, snuggling his hairy body after a nightmare; you will never hold his hand while you get a shot; you won’t even live in the same apartment anymore. You were leaving him, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t care about appearing strong anymore, and his tears fell down, admiring you, the girl he would do anything for, his little girl all grown up. And for once, he didn’t have a plan on how to save you, or how to approach this situation, he just watched and cried.

Tag list: @multifand0midi07 , @whos-fran , @cassiecasluciluce , @the-faceless-bride , @paintlavillered

[rekino2114]

Going Christmas shopping with Cassidy amber

Holiday post #6

Pairing:Cassidy amber x gn reader

A/n:Am I doing this just because p:e.g. chapter 1 comes out tomorrow, and I really hope Cassidy doesn't die.....yes, definitely, PLEASE don't die my comunist gamer

You and Cassidy made your way inside the giant shopping mall you were planning to shop in, you two took a moment to take in the Christmas decorations and lighting

"Woooh finally, ok we're here"

She took off her hat and scraped some snow off of it

"I told you you should have worn warmer clothes, you thought only your hat would protect you from the cold?"

"Yeah, it's especially made to protect my head from the cold"

"And the other parts of your body?"

She dismissively waved her hand at you while looking at the other side

"Details,Details, besides, I'm not gonna catch a cold just because of a little bit of snow, I'm not that weak"

"Whatever you say"

"Anyway, now the fun can truly start, where do you wanna go first?"

"Is that even a question?"

"I know, I just wanted to say this together"

"Alright then"

"THE VIDEO GAME SECTION!"

You two fist bumped each other and started to walk hand-in-hand to the game section

"OK so what do you want to get?"

"I'm fine with whatever game you want, though I'd prefer a multi-player one so we can play together"

"You read my mind, though why do we have to limit each other to one game, it's the holiday season so we should get gifts right?"

"Oh yeah, I should probably get you one too"

"Nah, that's not what I meant"

She pulled out a credit card from out of her wallet and gave it to you

"My gift is gonna be to get you a gift, go nuts, take all the games you want"

"Oh no please I can't accept that"

"Come on we've been through this a gazillion times, streamer and tournament money is pretty good, even when you give part of it to charity, so I can not not spoil you, plus you're gonna buy more games with the money which is gonna make me more money with the streams, it's an infinite money glitch!"

"I......guess, don't think I'm not gonna buy games that you like though"

"Dude, I like every game you literally couldn't buy a game I don't like even if you wanted to"

"Eh,that's true"

You went and brought every interesting game you saw while asking Cassidy her opinion on them, she basically told you she liked everything which didn't help your objective to spend as less money as possible but she really didn't care about that

"OK what's next on the list?"

"Christmas decorations!"

"Sounds good"

You went to the check out and decorations and brought some that you thought would look good in your house, you then spotted a Christmas hat and held it out to your girlfriend

"you wanna wear this?"

"No, I've already got my hat and I'm not taking it off"

"Who said you had to take it off?"

You then put the Santa hat on top of her own hat, she looked at it and then gasped

"That's an amazing idea babe, it'a double hat! This has gotta double my stats and I'm gonna be in the Christmas spirit"

You giggled at her as you two hugged for a moment

"OK so now what's next?"

"Let's see, we brought games, decorations, sweaters, and cookies, I think we're done"

"OK, let's go then"

You two went to pay and it turned out that the cashier was a "comrade" of Cassidy's so he gave you a discount in exchange for a selfie.

"Wait let me hold the bags"

"Hm? Why?"

"I wanna do something since you paid and also your hands look like they're about to freeze, put them in your pockets"

"I think I have a better idea"

She gave you one of the bags as the held the other ones in her hand, she then reached her now empty hand to yours, wrapping it around your arm and pulling you closer to her

"Don't you know teamwork is the basis of every duo? Both for co-op gaming and for the power couple we are, plus now we have warm hands! Both of us! Isn't that just great?"

You laughed together and got even closer, warming each other up

"Yeah it is, so what do you wanna do for Christmas?"

"Oh, I wanted to do a special stream. It's gonna be like 12 hours long, and we're gonna be playing games and raising money. It's gonna be so epic"

"That does sound epic"

"And don't think you can skip it, we're gonna be playing together ok?"

"Don't worry, I wouldn't miss streaming with you for anything in the world"

[yyawnjun]

Hi, congrats on 300 followers. I have a prompt request for the celebration. I would like to request a one-shot of jongseob with the prompt from sweet "smiling during kisses".

I would also like to add that the reader be gender neutral. congratulations again on 300 followers! 🎉

hihi! thank you so much for participating, and sorry for the late, hope you like it <3 ; 1k wc ; fluff ; first time writing for soeb aaaa ; and credits to my fav proofreader @sobun1est

300 followers event 🎀

You notice the light of the candles as soon as you open the door of your house, taking the first step inside your apartment.

“I’m home!” you said.

Shortly after, called by your voice, you noticed Jongseob coming out of his room to come and welcome you.

That day was your anniversary; one year had passed since you had confessed your tender love and the "roommate" label had turned into lovers. You had just returned from the small pastry shop where you worked in the afternoons to save up for your studies, and with you, you had a large plastic bag containing your boyfriend’s favorite cake.

Although neither of you was swimming in gold, you were happy with your flat. So you gradually decorated it and created a small home with all the amenities you could want.

“Welcome back, honey” he said to you, coming closer to steal a kiss from you and helping with the bags.

While he went to put the cake in the refrigerator you moved towards the small room, from where a soft light came.

As soon as you entered, you noticed that many candles were placed throughout the room, and in the center, there was a carefully set table. The window was wide open, and the view was of the city illuminated by the few lights of the night.

On the table there were two glasses, and next to them a bottle of your favorite wine. The plates had light red and gold decorations, and the tablecloth and napkins followed that theme.

There was also your record player, who carefully selected the records that had accompanied your evenings throughout that year.

“Do you remember our first date?” the boy asked you as he entered the room.

“When we shared pizza, sitting on this sofa while we tried to guess about the lives of the passers-by under this balcony? How could I forget?” you asked him.

He nodded and moved in your direction, seemingly unable to resist his desire to be by you.

He took your face in his hands and soon joined your lips in a long kiss.

“How about we create a remix, maybe with a slight upgrade?” he asked you, looking you directly in the eyes.

“I would love it,” he replied, smiling.

Everything at that moment brought back memories of the first date, when after a year of living together, since you attended the same university, that boy had come forward to ask you to be together.

“Happy anniversary Seob”

“You too, love” he replied.

During your first date, while you were waiting for the food to come, the two of you sat on the couch. You could only gaze lovingly at Jongseob's slim physique as he was focused on the task at hand—he had stood up to begin the vinyl recordings.

During the first date, you were waiting for the pizza to be delivered, while now you were waiting for the lasagna - entirely cooked by Jongseob - to cook in the oven!

You had once expressed how much you would have liked to taste Italian food, so that's why he chose it for dinner.

He had carefully chosen the order of the music records to listen to, as he had presented them to you during your year together.

To ensure that everything looked its best in your eyes, he had even asked his mother to lend him some of the dish set that she had used for her wedding.

He had discovered your favorite flavor in candles, and in his pocket, he had a crumpled piece of paper with a short poem that he wanted to recite to you.

Now he was sitting next to you on the couch and was following the moves of the first date step by step. He had counted how many times your eyes had crossed, but like the first time, he had gotten lost in your eyes and had opted for a more direct approach.

He had turned to you while you were watching him the whole time - noticing how his face was bright and how he had changed in a year. You vividly remembered all the features of his face and how his expression had gone from full concentration to complete disorientation as soon as he had looked at you.

And now everything was happening again: your eyes had met, and the butterflies in your stomach had started to dance.

He had soon come dangerously close and had canceled the distances. Neither of you could hold back a smile, remembering your first kiss while you were living the umpteenth. Many quick kisses alternated with passionate ones while your bodies also got closer.

You took a brief break to let out some lovely laughs that blended in with the background music like they were the melody itself.

Smiles between the kisses, comforting scents, and the warmth of the bodies that united.

He had moved his hand from behind your neck to your hips- oh how he had become bolder.

You were facing him and found it difficult to keep your eyes closed, so now and again when he drew you away, you gave him a tiny peek.

You loved so much seeing that boy's face up close.

With an awkward and hesitant smile, he looked so attractive with the candles lighting him.

The first time you had been interrupted by the arrival of the delivery boy, while this time by a strange burning smell that began to spread from the kitchen.

As soon as it hit your boyfriend's nostrils, his eyes widened and he suddenly stood up.

"THE LASAGNA!" he said as he ran towards the kitchen.

You giggled as you moved to go and check it out too.

As soon as you arrived in the kitchen you saw him wearing two pink skates and an apron of the same color, as he took the lasagna out of the oven. He hadn't even taken the time to turn on the light, the light of the candles was enough; but he had chosen to wear the apron to avoid dirtying the outfit he had worked on to impress you.

Luckily the lasagna wasn’t burnt, but on the contrary, it had acquired a light crunchy crust that had made that dish even better.

You found yourselves shortly after at the table, savoring that delicious food while you remembered the times gone by, shared moments of the present, and fantasized about future experiences.

[jesterwriting]

Hey Jester!! 🫶 hope you’re doing well ^_^ love the way you write Sanji and the op boys, it’s really comforting! :’)

If your requests are open- would it be possible to ask a headcannon list or short fic with the loverboy? A small fun, comfort scenario where reader really likes the idea of wearing suits or styles (like Sanji) in the sort, but doesn’t act on it and simply admires it? Then one day she buys something for herself, and he walks in on her? Eventual Reader hinting out to him “yknow you’re welcome to try my stuff on too..”

“!…”

…? Not sure if it makes any sense-! Feel free to skip it if it’s something a little too weird ^^”

Wishing you a good day- thank you! Stay awesome!!

pairing: sanji x gn!reader

contents: slight language, fluff, nosebleeds because sanji moment, reader buys a suit for the first time but its gender neutral

word count: 1.3k words

note: awwww hi! as always i got carried away because i only ever know how to be long winded oops— this was so cute and fun to write, though :33 thank you for your request <33 i hope you enjoy hehe

playlist: greenpath - christopher larkin

As you passed by the window of a nearby shop, you paused to stare at the mannequin that decorated the usually empty space. With one hand on its hip, it was adorned with a simple black suit. Plain, yes, but you could appreciate fine tailoring when you saw it. You wondered how it would look on you; if it would fit against your body just so, accentuating your finer features. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? You usually wore casual clothing, preferring comfort above all else, but you could appreciate a fancy suit when the mood struck.

Your shoes squeaked as you stood yourself on your tiptoes to align yourself with the mannequin. The reflection of your face hovered over the mannequin's blank features, almost uncanny in its visage. You hummed, studying the window as if it was a mirror. It didn’t look half bad. Before you made any rash decisions that would leave you losing a hefty sum of cash, you should try it on. Approximation was fine sometimes, though you could admit when it came to the finer things in life, it was better to know that you were getting your money’s worth.

You wished Sanji was here to help you. He always took good care of his appearance, preferring dress shirts and slacks to your jeans. If anyone knew how buying a suit should go, it was him. For all you knew, you were walking into this shop to get swindled. Lost in thought, you picked at your cuticles. If you were being honest, a part of you wanted to keep your little shopping spree a secret. Such a drastic change in style was out of character for you, and you would rather not be teased for it.

You hummed, looking left, then looking right. No one you recognized. Your purse was heavy on your hip, more than enough to get you two fancy suits and more. A cloud that had previously been blocking the sun moved out of the way, causing sunlight to spill over your shoulders and make the suit almost glow.

“Fuck it,” You said. “It’s fine.”

With that, you squared your shoulders and strolled into the store, prepared for the hefty price tag that was surely waiting for you. Instead, you were met with the sweetest old lady you had ever met, and a discount for being so patient. Bag in hand, you took off towards the sunny, a grin you couldn’t wipe off on your cheeks.

You couldn’t wait to try it on again in the comfort of your own room. Sometimes, the mirrors in shops lied. If you were truly going to know if you got your money's worth, it would be back home. You giggled to yourself, doing a small spin on your heel. Giddiness welled in your chest like a fountain.

Today was a good day.

—

“Oh, today was a spectacular day,” You muttered as you admired yourself in the mirror. No one had returned from the island so you were alone until everyone’s little shopping spree had ended. That gave you more than enough time to prance around in your new purchase for as long as you wanted.

You were worried it would be hard to move in. Formal wear always looked so stiff, you were sure you would feel trapped if you ever wore anything like it. Now that you were in one, however, it was the opposite. Your new suit fit you like a glove, pulled in at your waist to accentuate your figure. You raised your hands over your head, then bent to touch your toes, relishing in the give the fabric gave. There was no fear or any rips of tears, you felt like you could run a marathon if you wanted. The suit was everything you wanted and more. You couldn’t help but give a little giggle as you posed in front of the mirror.

Damn, you looked good.

A knock at the door shattered your joyful mood, quickly replacing it with anxiety. Your skin buzzed uncomfortably. There was no way you could change fast enough before whoever was at the door got bored if waiting and waltzed in. Privacy was in short supply on the Thousand Sunny. You looked at your reflection, almost laughing at your deer in headlights expression.

“Don’t come in, I’m naked,” You yelled the first thing you could think of, immediately regretting it as soon as it left your mouth.

“That’s alright, my love, I can come back later.” Even worse, it was Sanji at the door, probably off to nurse a nosebleed.

Chewing on your next words, you tried again, “Just kidding!”

Your boyfriend let out a strained laugh, “Okay. Well, I was only wondering what you would like to eat for dinner.”

Softly, you padded over to the door so you could hear him clearer. If anyone caught you like this, you’d want it to be Sanji. He could give you tips you didn’t know previously, and you knew he would never tease you like the others if he found out. Heart pounding in your chest, you turned the knob, poking your head out into the hall. As you guessed, Sanji was covering his nose with a tissue to stifle some of the blood flow, a rosy hue on his cheeks.

He smiled when he saw you, eyes soft. “Hello, sweetheart.”

You kept the rest of your body out of view as you hardened your gaze. “I need your help. And don’t you dare laugh at me.”

“I would never dream of laughing at you. You are my angel, all I know is to sing your praises.” Sanji’s curiosity got the better of him, stepping closer to peer into your quarters. His brows knit in concern when you didn’t move. “Is everything alright?”

With a sigh, you let the door creak open, arms open wide. “How do I look?”

Not wasting a second, Sanji pulled you into a tight hug. “You look marvelous, my love,” He said into your hair. You giggled when he lifted you and spun you around a few times for good measure.

“Are you sure?” You asked, feet now firm on the ground. “It’s not weird I’m wearing this? Suits usually aren’t my thing.”

“Yes, I’m sure. You’d look wonderful wearing rags, my love, let alone a finely tailored suit.” Sanji looked you up and down, admiring you and the suit that adorned your body. “Where did you get this? The stitching is so precise…”

Allowing him to inspect you — a tissue still stuck in his nostril from his earlier nosebleed — you smiled to yourself. “A sweet old lady runs a shop just off main street, I can show you later if you want.”

“I’d love to go.”

A moment of silence passed between you, Sanji admiring while you stood stock still and allowed him to fidget with the hems of your sleeves.

“You know, you can borrow this sometime if you want. Just so it gets more use. You always dress so nice.”

He laughed, blue eyes lit up like the ocean on a sunny day. “I think this would be a little too small for me, angel.” You watched his expression shift, a bit of blood dribbling from his other nostril before it was promptly stifled with another tissue. Sanji cleared his throat. “Although… If you’d like to wear any of my clothes, you’re welcome to whenever you’d like.”

“I think I may take you up on that offer.”

After all, what was better than comfy clothes? Comfy boyfriend clothes that get them all hot and bothered.

And, of course, your brand new suit.

[sanjisblackasswife]

How OP Men Ask to Be Your Valentines (SFW/Fuff)

Some are short and some are long. Also they all read poems.

Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Usopp, Ace

Black Fem Reader in Mind

Luffy

Wellll….he didn’t even know that day existed.

He seen Sanji decorate the deck the day before with heart shaped tapestries and making love theme foods and he explained.

When sanji realized that Luffy didn’t know he then asked if he asked you to be his Valentines and he obviously said no after a following “what is that.”🧍🏽

Needless to say after some yelling Luffy went to go find you

It wasn’t the most traditional way, but Lord help him he tried.

He stole some cupcakes and cookies and even a balloon Sanji had put up in the kitchen and rushed over to you.

Unfortunately none of the sweets survived except half a cookie, but you still had a balloon though!

“Y/N! Tomorrow be my Valentines! Okay?”

Before you could say yes or no he shoves the cookie in your mouth and hands you the balloon. He’s so proud of his declaration you couldn’t be upset.

“Oh wait! Sanji said i need to tell you a poem!”

“Violets are red, Roses are blue, please be my Valentines or else…”

“….or else what.”

He just chuckles at you while squishing your cheeks.

You don’t know if he was actually threatening you or didn’t remember the poem.

Honestly you haven’t been more warmed in your tummy to see the slight blush in his face when you nod in agreement and kiss his chubby cheeks

9/10 would love to see again.

Zoro

Only knows about it because of how much you talk about the special love day.

Yet

Still manages to nearly forget to ask you.

All day you been hinting on him asking

“Sanji asked all the girls to be his valentines…”

“Pathetic.”

“…You don’t think it’s cute he asked them?…y’know…seems pretty cute.”

“He made a fool of himself.”

It irked you he didn’t even have a light bulb moment and just ask right then and there and ask. You would have appreciated it, but no.

Forgot.

It wasn’t until Robin and Sanji asked what did Zoro gift you to ask to be your Valentines and nearly smacked himself on the head for it.

“THAT’S WHY SHE WAS ASKING ME THOSE QUESTIONS?! WHY DIDN’T SHE TELL ME!?”

“CUZ IT’S YOUR JOB DUMBASS!”

Luckily Robin was going out to a floral shop and Zoro tagged along. She assisted him on what flowers to give you and even a card with a pretty gold necklace (he now is in debt from nami again)

You were in your room pouting up until you seen Zoro awkwardly walk towards you with something behind his back and plop the flowers and gifts on your side.

He then plops HIMSELF on your lap and buries himself in your tummy while wrapping his arms around you

“Read the card.”

And you do so

“Blood is red. My shirt is blue. Be my Valentines, but either way I’ll screw you.”

….

….

“I’mma beat yo ass, Zo.”

“WHAT! That is IS A WONDERFUL POE—OW!”

Usopp

Poor boy is a nervous wreck asking you (his crush) to be his Valentines.

All week he has been drawing you. You both took a picture together a few weeks prior and since then he has been struggling to draw you the perfect Valentines Day Card

Of course he draws you beautifully but that doesn’t stop him from being a little scardey cat about it

“Hey! Y/N! Uh…can i give you something!?”

You smile and nod. “Of course. You made a another contraption?”

He smiles timidly and shakes his head no before he got lost in thought.

You see a rose inside a pretty pink card and it says on the front “Please open!”

You do and its a small drawing of you, Usopp, and the Going Merry and it says:

“Just as I am brave and smart, you’re even more with your sweet, kind heart. It would be my honor to be your Valentines, and if that goes well will you eventually be mine(s)?”

It was written so funny so you chuckle a little, but you then gasp to see the art he done for you. It was so detailed and gorgeous in contrast to the tiny doodle he did inside the card

“Us….WAIT USOPP!”

Poor boy ran before you could answer

Luckily you caught him and let him know of course you can be his Valentines

And a little more too…because you felt the same way about him.

Sanji

Genuinely surprised why his birthday isn’t on Valentines Day but we move

Obviously Mr. Prince wouldn’t dare NOT to ask you for your hand in being his Valentines, especially since you’re his girlfriend.

He plans out the entire 2 weeks of spoiling you (more than usual).

He acts like youre ganna say no somehow when everybody knows youre not

Zoro absolutely cannot stand him all two week

Everything is heart shaped

The food

The snacks

The desserts

Everything all for you and everybody has to endure it

You swear his eyes are a Crimson pink now this entire month.

And by February 13th he takes you on the deck after dinner and hands you MORE gifts

“Ji! You can’t keep giving me—“

“Just read it.”

The night was perfect, he was wearing a beautiful blue and black suit lighting up his cigarette with one hand as his other was still filled with another gift. He even got you the dress you’re wearing. You felt spoiled rotten. And you were. And Sanji knew that but he didn’t care.

He’d give you the world if you asked it

You open the pretty card and rose petals fall out and it says:

“My love for you cannot be compared. My love for you cannot be tested. My love for you cannot be measured. Even until the end of time my love for you shall never perish. You bring me light, you bring me joy, you are what I think about when I need remembrance of what I am fighting for. You are the calm in my chaos. You are my escape. My love. My Mademoiselle. I love you. -Your Prince, Sanji”

By the time you look up he is putting his hand out to you with warm cheeks and a smile,

“Be-“

“Yes! Sorry…i just..YES I wanna be your Valentines!”

You were overjoyed kissing your now bloodied nose man on the cheek and he hands you one last gift.

It’s a fake flower.

“I’ll stop loving you when that flower dies.”

Fuck he was corny but so romantic with it.

[bbyquokka]

imagine felix laying on ur chest while u play with his soft hair and kiss his forehead bye its been on my mind all day i need someone to cuddle me😠😠🙁

summer luvin'

FLUFF BELOW CUT – MINORS, AGELESS & DEFAULT BLOGS; DNI

warnings: gn reader, established relationship, domesticated au, non-idol au, pet names. words: 0.9k ~ (902)

dont repost. dont translate. feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

the scorching hot sun beats down on your skin. the hot, suffocating air blows past you every now and then, the wind chimes singing with each hit of the humid wind.

the skies are clear, not a cloud in the sky to help provide some shade from the intense heat the sun is providing. you have done everything that needed to be done today so you're now taking the time to relax.

the only thing that needed to be done, was water the plants and freshly grown veg and fruits you and your significant other, felix, have decided to grow together to help reduce the cost of grocery shopping; even if it's just a little.

a pink and white plaid picnic blanket rubs against the skin of your arms and legs. the soft texture of the grass shifts around and rustles as you lean up on your elbows. you place one hand above your eyes to provide you some cover from the sun as you watch your lover water the strawberries and cucumbers.

blue denim shorts and green crocs accompany him. his blue hair pushed back with the help of a black headband, beads of sweat roll down his forehead and temples. his naked chest and torso on display as his skin is slowly turning from a tanned colour to bright, burning red.

“hey felix.” he looks at you as he holds the green watering can. “have you put on sun cream?”

felix pouts a little, looking around sheepishly before shrugging and giving you a cheeky smile. you sigh, shaking your head slowly as you sit up fully and grab the sun cream.

“c'mere.” felix finishes watering the plants before bouncing over to you. he takes of his crocs by wiggling his feet and legs before kneeling down on the blanket in front of you.

“lix, you're burning.” you frown.

“i thought i did put on suncream.” he pouts.

“it's the hottest day of the year darling. you have to be safe, especially when you're out.”

“oh, this is nothing! it's way hotter in australia.” he laughs.

“we are in australia.” you state as you squirt the cream onto the palm of your hand.

“oh.. right, yeah. ops.” felix laughs as you shake your head and rub your palms together.

“on your stomach. i'll put some cream on your back.” felix shuffles into his stomach, arms being used as supports for his head as he rests his cheeks on them. you rub the cream into his hot skin as you feel a tad worried about how red his skin is looking, making a mental note to by some aloe vera next time you're both out and about.

you rub the cream onto his back and the back of his legs before helping him in applying the cream on his chest, abs and arms. you apply some on his nose and cheeks.

“your freckles are so clear now.”

“they are?”

“yeah. the sun really helps bring them out. your whole face is decorated with freckles. it's the cutest thing i've seen.”

a pink blush rises to his cheeks to which you giggle at before stroking the blush. you gently kiss his cheek as felix hums softly.

“do we need to do anything else today?” he asks softly as he watches you reapply your own sun cream.

“i don't think so lix. i think we've doing everything today.”

“great!” your eyes widen as felix gently tackles you. you land on your back with a soft thump and grunt as felix nuzzles into your chest, his arm loosely draped over your stomach. once the initial shock of the sudden attack is over, do you smile and hold him close to you.

you both ignore the fact that you're two very hot people, skin sticking together as the heat from the sun and each other mixes and rises. sweat accumulates on both your foreheads, the feeling of stickiness and grossness rising; but you both ignore it.

you close your eyes slowly as you listen to the sounds of the birds singing their sweet and gentle tunes. the cheers and shouts of children playing in their back yards ringing in your ears before occasionally dying down to nothing but blissful silence.

you absentmindedly twist felix's blue hair around your finger, raking your fingers through it and massaging his scalp. he lets out soft and gently hums and groans as you occasionally kiss the top of his head.

soon, the heat of each other becomes too much. after minutes of being close to one another, does felix pull away slowly. he stands up and disappears into the kitchen. you hear the sound of water running and felix rummaging around in the cupboards.

you think nothing of it, thinking he was just preparing some food and drinks for you both, until you feel something wet explode onto your stomach causing you to shriek and bolt upright.

you look up at a mischievous looking felix. a couple of water balloons in his hands as a bucket of them is situated by his feet.

“oh! you're on, mr!” you laugh as you grab a balloon and instantly throw it at his torso.

“water balloon fight! looser has to cook dinner!” you shout as you rush to your feet, grabbing more balloons in your hands.

“oh, you're on yn! just know that i'm going to kick your ass.”

“in your dreams, felix!”

note: if its hot where you live, remember to stay hydrated, wear sun cream and dont stay out for too long!! stay safe everyone ☀

tags (open): @sstarryoong ; @oshimee ; @unh0ly-dr3am3r ; @septicrebel ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo ; @aestheticsluut ; @xcookiemonsteer ; @telesvng

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Going On A Cozy Christmas Date With Nanami

Nanami Kento X FemReader

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Word Count: 933

(A/N:) Hello fellow JJK and Nanami fangirls! It's a painful season and I was dreading Nanami's death being animated tbh. So to combat the pain and the feels I bring some cozy happiness to y'all for Christmas! I had this planned as something different buuut an idea popped into my head and I'm running with it! Hopefully this helps ease some of the pain until something else happens! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The winter streets of Tokyo were aglow with Christmas lights and decor lining the different shops, trying to tempt in shoppers. Your breath fogging in the air as you tried to warm up your hands. You were waiting for Nanami to return from a street cart that was advertising warm drinks. He had told you before you left to bring gloves, but you stubbornly refused them, wanting to hold his hand without gloves getting in the way. Your nose was turning pink from the nippy air as you continued to puff away at your chilly skin. Finally the familiar slicked blond hair came into view. Unlike you, Nanami was bundled up, gloves including as he held out your warm wintery treat. Complete with mounds of whipped cream and topped with crushed peppermint, your mouth watered at the deliciously sugary sight.

You took the offered cup, taking an appreciative sip while Nanami looked on.

"You need to stop hanging out around Gojo. His horrific taste in sweets is starting to rub off on you," he stated taking a long drink of his boring black coffee.

"Please," you snorted licking at the whipped cream mustache above your lip. "Just because you like to be boring and drink black coffee doesn't mean I have to. And for your information I've always had a sweet tooth thank you. Gojo has nothing to do with it."

You cupped the warm cup in your hands, shuddering at the warmth. Nanami rolled his eyes.

"I told you to wear gloves," he tsked.

"I wanted to hold your hand to keep warm," you pouted.

He sighed but took your hand just the same, giving it a squeeze before he placed your hand and his in his coat pocket. You hummed at the coziness of his body heat as you both started back down the street. It wasn't often that Nanami could get away from his sorcerer job, so you relished every second with him. You chatted away, telling Nanami of everything that has been going on and the plans that you had been thinking of to spend Christmas with him. Nanami just listened intently, letting you ramble even when the only breaks you took were to take a drink of your hot chocolate. You had even gotten him to take a little sip. You laughed at the whipped cream on his nose before you kissed it away, savoring the taste on your tongue.

A little further down the street, as you were browsing at clothing in a store window you felt a tap on your shoulder. A young woman with a camera around her neck asked if she could take you and Nanami's picture. You nodded eagerly and Nanami couldn't bring himself to refuse. She brought you both to a gorgeously decorated Christmas photo op. It didn't take long and now both of you had something to remember the night by. You pocketed yours, making sure not to bend it so you could put it on the wall around your bed when you got home. Nanami eased his copy into his wallet. You kissed his cheek before whisking him away to another place.

The park was normally empty this time of night, with the exception for the holiday season. With lights everywhere and trees decorated in different varieties of ornaments. It was nice to take a walk through the more crowded paths. Nanami tensed as some people bumped into you, but with a bow they apologized and he relaxed.

"Don't be so tense," you squeezed his hand.

"I can't help it. Bad things tend to follow big crowds," he pulled you in closer making sure that you couldn't be separated from him. Discarding the now empty paper cups into the trash, Nanami lead the way through several groups of people. Despite the walking and your tired feet, you didn't want the night to end. But Nanami being ever the perceptive one, noticed when you had started to limp a little bit. He was able to find an empty bench in the crowded park and he sat down letting you rest for a little bit before he called it a night.

"Thank you Nanami," you whispered in his ear.

"For what," he muttered while keeping an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

"For tonight and taking care of me," you answered. "Moments like these are precious to me."

He nodded, "I work a lot and waste a lot of my time there. But I never feel like I waste anything when I'm with you."

You blushed, thankful that your cheeks were already pink from the frosty weather. You tried to look away but Nanami refused to let you. His palm against your cheek he leaned in, his lips brushing over yours softly. He tried pulling away but you held onto his coat, willing him to go further. He took the hint, kissing you fervently. You sighed against him pressing into Nanami as you lost yourself in the touch and taste of him. The bitterness of his coffee dancing on your tongue, along with the smell tickling your nose. Meanwhile Nanami could still taste the chocolate and peppermint that he would come to associate with you. He didn't care there were others around, or if they were staring. At this moment to him it was just you and him. Pulling away, he was ready to get you home, away from the crowds where he could enjoy you to himself. Walking hand in hand out of the park you fell back into easy conversation, while Nanami planned something more concrete than just spending Christmas together.

[supernatural-bias]

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: not quite almost christmas time—tom cardy

masterlist | coms | carrd

• Christmas in New York is always a hectic time of the year. The last week of the holiday season was always spent with adults rushing to buy a last minute gift for their partner while parents attempted to pry their kids from shiny display windows

• However, you, being friends with a guild of ninjas, had your own problems. Namely, what exactly were you supposed to get four giant mutant turtles and their rat dad?

• Food and gift cards were out of the question. Unless it was pizza, you weren't sure they would eat it, and gift cards would be rendered useless by their mutant appearance. No shopping sprees were going to be held for the brothers anytime soon

• After many frantic late night texts sent to both April & Casey—and one call to Splinter on the cheese phone, which you were scolded for later—you eventually settled on four gifts for them

• From you, Michelangelo would be getting a new skateboard with a five hundred pack of stickers to decorate it with. That had been a tough call, considering you knew how much he loved his current set of busted wheels, but you decided the purchase was worth it in the end

• For Raphael, you got him a can of roach killer

• It's a gag gift, of course, but he wouldn't have to know that until after the embarrassing teasing ceased

• His actual present was a new set of paints and canvases—most of them from a brand you knew he loved, but had a hard time getting ahold of since they were produced in Japan

• Leonardo's gift would consist of a limited edition Space Heros comic you knew he had been itching to get at for a while now. It was probably the most expensive—and when you say expensive, you mean expensive. Comic owners were really protective about first editions—but it's worth it

• As for Donnie, you had gone a little old school with him. Instead of going out and buying a gift, you had instead sat down at your kitchen table and brought out the scrapbook scissors

• The following poster you created consisted of all of the most memorable moments in scientific history—from the creation of the periodic table to the splitting of an atom

• Right in between all of those amazing discoveries, you made sure to include important milestones in Donatello's life. Starting on the day that all five of you had met

• While you were slaving away over your rickety dining table that was very much due for an upgrade, the turtles were having a present wrapping party of their own

• When it comes time to wrap their gifts, Raph's the artist of the group. He would probably be really good at it—cool bows, smooth taping jobs and all—if he didn't get so pissed off at the wrapping paper for giving him little paper cuts. In the end he just uses the little bags with tissue paper stuffed in it. Much easier

• Mikey is. Uh. Mikey. His presents are always fun and full of surprises—one year, you got a pie to the face—but his wrapping most certainly is not. Ends up just having to go to Leo or Donnie to help him, or it just ends up an amalgamation of tape and paper. Mostly tape.

• Leo's probably the most normal out of the group during the seasonal activity. Gets it done all in one afternoon fairly easily, and most definitely uses some limited edition Space Heros wrapping paper he found online. What else, of course

• Donnie is really methodical about it for some reason? It's just wrapping, but he uses equations and an actual whiteboard full of complex math for it. What color matches best, how to cover an awkward shaped present perfectly, the cost of labor, etc

• April ends up doing both her and Casey's in the end. He's too lazy to actually do it and just ends up annoying her until she does

• In the end, Christmas in the lair goes down perfectly. You, April and Casey were all able to slip away from your parents houses for just a moment to witness the Hamato clan open up your gifts, each of you sitting beneath the soft glow of a Christmas tree that Splinter had pulled out from somewhere

[cetaitlaverite]

I think it’s so cute that Rosie tells his mom about Freddie pretty much after meeting her! When does Freddie tell her mom and dad about him and what does she say?!

this is such an interesting question!! i hadn't really thought about it, to be honest, but the answer came to me very suddenly. fred for sure only tells them at the last minute, right before christmas. she asks rosie to come home with her and he agrees and she waits for him to confirm to her that he's gotten leave and then she has no choice but to tell her parents. and i think the conversation might go a little bit like this:

Being your own boss had its advantages, Freddie had discovered since being promoted to leading Operation Corona. Before, when she’d been but one of many wireless operators, she’d had to sit around and wait for instructions, even when there was little to do and she sat twiddling her thumbs. Jones had rarely ever dismissed them early, had even resented to let them chat about non-work-related things on the job.

Now, Freddie found herself the only person in the officers’ club at this time of day. Her Corona wireless ops were all thoroughly occupied brushing up on their Luftwaffe terminology to tighten up their manipulation tactics and there were no American bombing missions going out today. Instead, Freddie had found time to hang around after lunch and had surreptitiously made her way into the abandoned club, always unlocked even though the bartenders didn’t start work until the evening.

She passed the piano with a longing glance - maybe she would come back for it later - and instead made a beeline for the bar, letting herself in behind it and heading for the phone.

Her heart was in her throat as she informed the operator of where she wanted to be put through to, pumping hard in her ears as well as her chest as she listened to the phone ring. She had half a mind to hang up to collect herself before the line connected and there came a familiar voice on the other side. “Hello?”

“Mum,” Freddie said, almost breathless with nerves. “Hi, it’s me.”

“Wils, darling,” Alma greeted in return. Her smile was audible, wide and warm, and it settled Freddie considerably. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Freddie informed her airily. “I had a couple of minutes to spare so I wanted to call. How are things at home?”

Alma leaped into vivid descriptions of how she’d passed the last few days. She spoke of the things she’d been baking even with the rationing and how she’d almost finished Christmas shopping - “I can’t wait for you to see some of the things your father and I have gotten you, Wils, I’ve really outdone myself this year” - and spoke at length of the dogs and how they were doing. She spoke of Freddie’s father and his teaching and how they were preparing to decorate the house this weekend now that it was December. When at last she took a breath, she asked, “Did you manage to get leave to come home again this year?”

“Yes,” Freddie confirmed, and now she was grinning. She was so excited to go home for Christmas she could hardly stand it. Even just imagining how it looked with all of the decorations, how it felt to sit on the sofa with the fire warm in the grate, lit her up inside. “That’s what I was phoning about, really.”

“Oh?” Alma asked.

There was a sudden, ferocious heat in Freddie’s cheeks that she could not kill, no matter how hard she tried. Why was this so terribly embarrassing?

“I’d like to bring Meatball with me, if that’s okay,” Freddie ventured first.

“Of course,” Alma replied easily. “I’ve already got a stocking made for him. I’d always assumed he’d be coming home with you.”

Freddie laughed softly under her breath, then paused as she toyed with how she wanted to give voice to her next words.

When the pause went on too long, Alma prompted softly, “Wils? Still there, darling?”

“Still here,” Freddie confirmed. She shook her head, adjusted her grip on the phone, and willed herself to stop being silly. This was her mum, she could tell her anything. “I’d like to bring someone else home with me, too,” she added hastily, all in one breath.

Alma paused on the other end of the line. When she spoke it was warily, as though she was unsure of how she was supposed to be reacting. “Of course,” she said slowly. “The more the merrier. But can I ask who?”

This was the moment. God, Freddie had never had to do this before. With Daniel her parents had practically watched it happen, embarrassing as that had been as a teenager, because Daniel lived next door. They’d been there through all of the awkward conversations over the garden fence and through all of the uncertain first dates. She’d never had to tell them about Daniel because they’d always known.

“I’ve met someone,” Freddie said abruptly, trying to be casual about it but not altogether succeeding. “A man. American.” She shook her head. She was being so strange. “Rosie,” she added as an afterthought. “His name’s Rosie.”

“Rosie,” Alma echoed thoughtfully.

“Rosie,” Freddie confirmed. “A nickname, of course, because his last name is Rosenthal.”

“What’s his first name?”

“Robert, but no one calls him that.”

“Rosie,” Alma said again. Freddie thought she might have heard a smile in her voice but she couldn’t quite tell.

“He’s Jewish,” Freddie went on, because talking made it feel less scary. It was the pauses that were unbearable. “So he doesn’t actually celebrate Christmas, he celebrates Hanukkah, but his family are so far away and I thought it might be nice if he could come and be with us for a few days.”

Now Alma really was smiling - Freddie could hear it. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Wils,” she said warmly. “And of course we’d be delighted to have him stay. Is it R-O-S-I-E that he spells it?”

Freddie was grinning when she replied. Of course her mother was already planning out the personalisation of his stocking. “Yes,” she confirmed, giggling softly. “Do you want to know what he likes?”

“I want to know what he’s like,” Alma countered. “What do you like about him?”

Freddie smiled, leaning her shoulder against the wall beside her and tipping her head to the side to rest against it. She shut her eyes, willing the image of Rosie to the forefront of her mind. “He’s kind,” she began.

“Mm,” Alma hummed to communicate that she was listening.

“And gentle,” Freddie added. “So incredibly, unbelievably patient with me it’s astounding. He knows all about Daniel now but even before he was always patient, open about his intentions with me but careful to follow my lead.”

Alma was smiling softly now. Freddie could see it clearly in her mind’s eye as she listened to her hum for Freddie to go on.

“He’s really clever - he worked as a lawyer before the war - but he’s not snobbish about it. Unbearably humble, actually. And he loves music - jazz music, specifically - though he claims he has no musical talent.

“He likes to read,” she went on, opening her eyes and setting them on that spot at the bar where they’d first met, “and he’s fun to be around. He’s universally well-liked on base. He’s tall with dark, curly hair and bright blue eyes. And he has a moustache that makes him look like a film star.”

“Is he handsome?” Alma asked.

Freddie laughed softly to herself. “Yes,” she said. “Very.”

“And what does he do for work now?”

Freddie paused. Her smile faded slightly. “He’s a pilot,” she confessed, holding her breath as she waited for Alma’s reaction. Try as she might, Freddie just could not seem to escape pilots.

“Is he a good one?” came Alma’s eventual reply.

Freddie let out a steady breath, smiling as her eyes fell closed. “He’s the best,” she confirmed. “A mission went out recently and his was the only plane that came back.”

Alma considered this for a beat. “Good,” she replied eventually. “You deserve that.”

Freddie smiled, reopening her eyes and setting them on the door as though she expected Rosie to walk in at any moment.

“You’ll like him, I think,” Freddie said next, grinning as she imagined Alma’s reaction to Rosie. She laughed. “Just wait until you see him, you’ll die.”

“That handsome, is he?” Alma asked, laughing along with Freddie.

“Oh, yeah,” Freddie confirmed. “Straight off the Hollywood red carpets.”

“I can’t wait to meet him, Wils,” Alma replied, her laughter still echoing around the edges of her voice. “Make sure he knows he’s more than welcome.”

“I will.”

“And can you find out from him what some of his Hanukkah traditions are?” Alma continued, already getting ahead of herself with planning. “I think it might be nice if we incorporate some into our celebrations. I’d like to make sure he feels at home.”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Light on the Darkside - Chapter Twenty Three.

Huge thanks as ever to all my lovely besties for your commitment to the story!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One Twenty Two

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 3,984

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

“There, told her to make it extra strong,” Alice spoke, putting a large, well-brewed tea down on the table at the coffee shop she and her eldest had stopped at that morning, taking a seat. “What time did she finally settle?” 

“Five,” James yawned, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm. “Never seen so much fucking puke come out of something so small. Just waiting for it to rip through the house and blat everyone else now.”  

She didn’t envy that at all. “See, now this is another reason why I’m glad I found my children later in life,” she spoke, touching a loving hand to his arm. “No stomach bugs, no incessant colds and no headlice. Just two readymade amazing kids all grown up.”  

“I’m a top grade delight. Sam’s questionable.”  

Alice couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re both the apple of my eye. Still, though. There’s nothing I would have liked more than to have found you all sooner.” 

At least she’d found them all at all. “You came along exactly when you were meant to, mum. If I’d have had a supportive mother all my life, I probably wouldn’t have ended up being sectioned, then I wouldn’t have met Ella. I ain’t saying it was all Carole’s fault, how I ended up for a while, but you get what I mean, innit?” 

“I do, love,” she smiled fondly, sipping her latte. “So, apart from Freya decorating everything in vomit, how are my other two angels, hmm?” 

Ahhh, the typical, adoring eyes of a grandparent. To Alice, they were faultless. “Lyra is entering her moody teenage years a few months early, and Zara is still massively routine-driven. Getting a bit better, though. We can throw the odd change in here and there without her having a meltdown.”  

“See?” she smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I bet this is her growing out of it.” 

“I hope so,” he spoke, eyes widening a little. “Just got big girl throwing us stacks of attitude now the teenager years are looming, like I say.”  

Indeed, Ella had mentioned that to her the last time she’d met with her daughter-in-law for lunch. “Yes, Ella told me that she’d been getting a little sassy now her periods have started.”  

“And they’ve fucking synced up in their moon time, innit, so I’ve got two hormonal women being arsey with me at the same time every bloody month!” He paused, smirking. “Excuse the pun. Gonna be a shitting nightmare when the other two start as well!” 

Alice couldn’t keep her laughter in at that. “And we were all so convinced Freya was going to be a boy, weren’t we?” 

“Yeah,” he snorted, “but apparently my balls only make badass little girls!” Again, his mum was in soft fits, entertained as ever. It was the thing she’d loved most upon meeting him for the first time fifteen years before. He was hilarious. Her husband and son shared a very similar sense of humour.  

James had made her nerves over her pre-op appointment with the surgeon dissipate that morning by just being himself, making his usual uncouth observances. Alice was, if she was honest, dreading such a big operation as having her hip taken out and replaced. It felt to her like a procedure she was too young for still at only just turned sixty. 

After dropping her back home, he returned to his own, walking the dogs before making a slightly later start to his working day. With Otis and Hugo lying at his feet, he spent most of it welded to the phone, only stopping to eat something before he was back to work and intermittently checking up on a poorly Freya. As predicted, the stomach bug she had did spread through the house, Ella and Zara coming down with it too but luckily not plaguing him or Lyra. 

They were back to normal after three days of puking, James sick of the smell of Dettol being sprayed everywhere to help combat the spread of the bug. By the time the following Monday rolled around, Zara had returned to school and the destroyer of worlds to nursery, James picking them up as usual, Lyra walking back with a couple of friends who were staying for dinner. 

When those friends arrived, he was out in the back garden, working up a sweat while kicking the shit out of his freestanding punchbag. It was a sight to behold for one of her two best friends, as least, Cassidy virtually dribbling. 

“God, your dad is bae,” she sighed wistfully. “So hot.” 

Lyra curled her lip immediately. “Dude, you need to stop crushing on my dad!”  

“Can’t help it! He’s... wow.” 

The disgruntled spawn of Cass’s affections looked across the kitchen to their third cohort, Kitt shaking his head. “I can’t even with her.” When James arrived in the kitchen, neither could he.  

“Kitt, how’s it going, man?” he spoke firstly, offering a fist bump, side eyeing the young girl who did not stop staring at his sweat slicked chest. “Cass, pack it in.” 

“I can’t,” she sighed, “you’re... yeah.” 

He shook his head, opening a fresh bottle of water. “I’m forty, is what I am, and you’re thirteen. Enough.” He knew his own attractiveness, but it still made him feel uncomfortable when girls of such a young age noticed it. It was the same with fans of the band, his discomfort only amplified further after he’d become a father himself. There were a staggering number of musicians out there who hadn’t the same set of morals where underage girls were concerned, but he’d never be one of them.  

Turning his attention away as Cassidy reined herself in, he pointed at Kitt. “Got your boy uniform, at last!” he spoke, nodding with a smile.  

Kitt up until six months ago had been Katie, when he’d finally come out to his parents as trans. His friends had known for much longer, as well as James and Ella. They’d been nothing but accepting over it, immediately changing the pronouns used to speak of him, as well as his new chosen name. Sadly, Kitt’s own father hadn’t taken it quite as well. It was why the young lad liked being at Lyra’s so much. Her dad accepted him without question.  

“Yeah, feels good. Mum took me shopping for boy clothes, too. Felt proper, finally getting to wear stuff I feel comfortable in,” he confirmed, James nodding. 

“That’s sound, mate. Oh, don’t leave tonight without taking all my old band t shirts with you. None of ‘em fit me anymore since I got jacked, so you might as well have the ones Lyra don’t want.” 

His eyes lit up. “Really? Ahh, cheers, James!” 

“No problem, kid.” he smiled, leaving the kitchen and heading upstairs for a shower. Dressed in black sweats and a dark grey t-shirt five minutes later, his hair hanging damp, he placed down the large pile atop the island, Kitt beginning to look through.  

“No fucking way!” he gasped, suddenly clasping a hand over his mouth. “Sorry.” 

James snorted. “Ella ain’t around, you can drop F bombs, bro. I don’t give a shit.” Such a stance definitely cemented his status as a cool dad. “You fucking can’t, though.” he then spoke, pointing at Lyra with a wink, her friends laughing as she pouted and raised her middle finger at her dad, who returned the gesture.  

Continuing his excitement, Kitt held the t shirt in his hands aloft. “Is this from the nineties?” 

“Turn it around and look at the back.” He duly did, James pointing to one of the tour dates printed on the reverse. “I was at that gig. Steve, Snedders and I went up to Glasgow for a week on the piss right after we’d finished our A levels.”  

“Dude!” Kitt exclaimed, “That’s so sick!” 

“Innit? Banging night, that was,” he spoke of the Pantera gig they’d been to back in nineteen ninety-two. “Broke my nose in the pit, Snedders ended up with a dread ripped out, and Steve... well I can’t tell you about what he got up to.” 

“Oh, go on, man!” Kitt exclaimed. 

“Nah, mate. Ask me when you’re sixteen and I’ll tell you then, innit.” He had to be a proper adult sometimes, he supposed. Thirteen-year-old ears didn’t need to know that his best mate had somehow managed to discreetly shag two girls one after the other against the barriers that night. 

They continued to talk more about music, all the while with Lyra looking on proudly. That was her dad, and he was utterly awesome. She loved him even more for how completely unphased he was about Kitt’s status as a trans boy, too. He simply treated him just as that: a boy. It was more than Marc, his own father did, refusing to acknowledge him as Kitt, still referring to him as she/her and using his deadname.  

“Hello, everybody!” Ella chimed brightly, coming into the kitchen after her last therapy session had ended for the day, smiling widely as she was greeted by the three kids sitting at the island with her husband. “What are you all chatting about?” she continued, quickly checking through the windowed door that led to the lounge, seeing her younger girl's content in their cartoon watching and homework endeavours.  

“When dad punched Fred Durst in the face at the Kerrang awards,” Lyra laughed, her friends exploding all over again. Ella rolled her eyes, remembering it well. She’d been there. In fact, it was because of her that the Limp Bizkit frontman had ended up with a face full of fist.  

“I suppose he had it coming to him. He did grab my arse, and your dad takes exception to that kind of thing,” she spoke, kissing James between his shoulder blades and squeezing his arms. “You were lucky he didn’t bleedin’ press charges, though!”  

“Wouldn’t have cared if he had. Wanker got what he deserved for putting his hands on my wife.” Ella immediately raised an eyebrow. “Not that I advocate violence or nothing like that,” he swiftly added, turning to wink rapidly, the kids further descending. It was always a good time in the Kingston household.  

After dinner, James drove Cassidy and Kitt to their respective homes, Lyra accompanying.  

“Thanks, dad,” she spoke, examining the split ends in her hair. 

“What for, kid?” 

“You’re always really great with Kitt. He’s having a hard time since coming out, few of the kids at school teasing him. It isn’t good at home either with his dad refusing to accept it all.” 

It must have been hard for all involved, but especially Kitt himself. “The lad has enough to contend with, innit, growing up in a body that don’t reflect who he is on the inside. I ain’t gonna give him shit for it. Hopefully his dad’ll come around to it sooner rather than later. Gotta be tough for him, too, to suddenly see that who he thought was his daughter now wants to be referred to as his son. Big thing, that.” 

Lyra hummed, picking at her hair. “Yeah, but you’d be alright with it though, wouldn’t you? If it was me who came out as trans.” 

“Yeah, course I would, monster. All I want is for you to be happy, but it don’t mean I wouldn’t find it a bit tough as well. I’d keep that to myself, though, ‘cos I’d realise that in the end, what you’d go through would be a thousand times tougher than anything I’d feel.” 

“Mum would just fucking analyse me,” she snorted, a tiny slither of contempt there. 

“Oi, less of that,” he warned lightly, turning left to put them back on the dual carriageway. “Your mum would help you while you found your identity, and all the stuff you’d have going on up in your head. That’s her job as a mum first and foremost, innit. Just because she does it professionally is by the by.” 

“Always feel like she’s watching me from a professional standpoint, though,” she remarked, raising her hands up to drop them into her lap. 

“Nah, Lyra. She don’t do that. Not with you kids. What you need to remember about your mum is that yeah, because of her job she does understand certain behaviours and responses better than others do, and she will tailor that understanding to how she deals with things. That ain’t a bad thing, you know. Like when you’re being arsey for little to no reason, she knows it’s cos’ your brain is changing as you’re growing up, and she’s gentle with you because of that. Trust me, you have a top grade mum. You’re lucky.” 

His daughter was silent for a few moments. “Do you mean because she’s not like Carole?” The older children were aware that their nanny wasn’t James and their auntie Sam’s biological mum, but only Lyra had a slightly more informed grasp over why. 

“Exactly that, kid,” replied, slowing as they reached a roundabout. 

“What was she like?” 

Taking the third exit, he felt his jaw stiffen a tiny bit. Since her death he’d attempted to try and remember the more favourable traits, but with how she’d behaved with him from his mid-teens to early twenties, it was difficult to reconcile. “She had her good points, I suppose. Always raised us knowing right from wrong and all that, but she was proper hard on us if we weren’t living up to what she expected. She’d pick at us, looking for arguments to make her feel justified and then blame us when we bit back. They call it gaslighting in this day and age.” 

“She didn’t like mum either, did she?” 

He snorted loudly. “Hated your mum, yeah. Didn’t like that she not only stood up to her, but stood up for me while she was doing it. Never took the chance to get to know her either.”  

Lyra softened then, humming a gentle laugh. “Yeah, mum is very protective of us.”  

Those words made her dad smile. He’d noticed of late that she’d been harbouring a little extra in the way of resentment when it came to Ella having to be tough with her because of her attitude, although truly, his eldest didn’t know from tough where mothering was concerned. Ella was firm when she had to be, but always gentle.  

“Your mother is a bloody lioness,” he beamed, turning to look at her fleetingly. “You girls are her world.” 

“Do you ever miss her,” she then asked, quick to clarify. “Carole, that is?” 

“Nah, I don’t. I let go of the idea that she could be anything more than a controlling woman with a predisposition for aggro a long, long time ago. Before you were born, innit. In the end, whatever Carole had wrong with her, she didn’t wanna fix it. Now, your nanny Alice, different matter entirely.” 

She wasn’t just the mum he’d wanted for so long, she’d become the mum he’d needed, so kind and nurturing, very similar to Ella in that respect. A lot of the damage left in the wake of him walking away from Carole had been much soothed by her coming into their lives.  

Once home, Lyra kissed her parent's goodnight, James flopping down on the sofa next to his wife, ready to resume their catchup of Game of Thrones season 3 before season 4 began airing two months’ from then. 

“I still can’t shitting believe we’re in this!” he exclaimed, excitement for his and the guy’s upcoming appearance in season 4 buzzing through him. Someone on the production team of the show had reached out to the band’s management, the crew member a die-hard Nocturnal Descent fan who had put it to the casting and show runners that the band make a cameo appearance somehow as background cast. 

The guys had headed to Iceland for three weeks the previous year to film as members of Mance Rayder’s Wildling army, having an amazing time on set, doing something so different to their main profession.  

“I always knew I’d married a wildling, but now it’s official,” Ella chuckled, grabbing her cup of tea and curling into her husband. 

“Yeah, you fucking did!” he chimed, reaching to playfully squeeze her boob. She laughed, turning her head to kiss his shoulder. 

“Oh, snacks!” she then announced, reaching to pause the opening credits with the Sky+ remote. 

“I’ll go.” Heaving himself up, he entered the kitchen, the sound of rummaging becoming audible. “We got any popcorn left?” 

“No, Zara finished it.” 

“Total bullshit!” More rustling followed. “Babe? Are the giant pretzels still in here?” 

She resisted the urge to tell him that he should know, being that he was the one peering into the snack's cupboard at that particular moment. “Yes! Bring those and the little cheese biscuit things as well, the ones in the blue box.” 

“Okay, cheese things found,” he called back, “but can’t see the shitting pretzels.” 

“They’re in there!” 

More rustling. “Where, though?” 

And to think he’d spawned children who could hear pretzels being opened from four rooms away. “Probably behind the jar of almonds.” 

“Ahh! Got ‘em.” Finally. She heard the sound of various baked snack goods being decanted into a bowl, James appearing again, two very interested parties getting up from their beds to amble over and sit expectantly at his feet. “Oh no, you two ain’t getting fuck all. Especially not after you, shitting expensive brown potato decided to get a piece of carrot stuck in his pissing throat.”  

Feed a healthy snack of carrots to your dog, they said. They make an excellent, high fibre alternative to dog treats, they said. And they had, until Hugo had spent the entire evening hacking and retching to no avail, James having to drive him to the emergency vet at nine thirty on a Sunday evening, the dog knocked out before having the offending piece of carrot pulled from his throat with a long set of tweezers for that very purpose.  

“Costing me the best part of a grand because you can’t chew,” he continued, Hugo head tilting with a grunt. “Yeah, make your confused sounds at me all you pissing like, mate. Ain’t happening, soft foods only for you two now. Fucking pom frites.” 

Potatoes, pom frites, chauves-souris (the French word for bats, chosen because of their ears) French fuckery number one and number two, James had a whole host of amusing names for their canine companions.   

Ella reached for Hugo, stroking his tan-brown head. “I don’t think he’s forgiven you yet.” Again, the dog grunted, him and his brother waiting expectantly. It was to no avail, though, Ella gently reminding them they’d had ham as a treat earlier before sending them back to their beds. They got through two episodes of the show before calling it quits for the night, sitting there talking instead. 

“Have you noticed Lyra being a little off lately?” she asked suddenly, fiddling with the tie on her pyjama bottoms.  

“Only when she’s got her moon time.” Since finding out the centuries old term for women having their periods, James had referred to them as little else. “She was chatty enough in the car on the way back earlier.” 

“Ahh, maybe it’s just me, then. She just seems a bit quiet sometimes. I’m trying not to be bothered by it, rationality decreeing it’s of course all hormonal,” she replied, pursing her lips in a twist. “What was she talking to you about?” 

“Thanked me for being good with Kitt since he came out,” he revealed, biting into the last pretzel and offering the other half to her lips, which she took.  

“That poor boy. I know it’s so much more common these days, but he’s going to have such an uphill struggle. His dad especially is making it difficult, calling it a phase when truly, the kid has felt that way secretly his whole life. I forgot to tell you, he collared me at the school gates yesterday when I was dropping Lyra off, asked me if I’d consider taking him on as a patient to, and I quote, “straighten her out again” as he worded it.” 

James raised an eyebrow. “And what did you tell him?” 

“I said that I’d happily refer his son to a specialist in the field of gender dysphoria to assist him living as the person he clearly wanted to be, but that I wasn’t prepared to try and change Kitt’s mind,” she revealed, scratching her head with a sigh. “He didn’t take it particularly well, so I was surprised Kitt was allowed round here tonight, if I’m honest. Then again, Louise is doing all she can to try and make his life bearable since his dad isn’t being supportive. I suppose that extends to being allowed into the houses of his friends whose parents support his transitioning.” 

“It’ll come back to bite him in the arse if he don’t, though. I could tell the fella that first hand, innit.” 

Ella widened her eyes. If anyone knew all about having a parent who was unsupportive, it was him. “Big time, you could.”  

“We spoke about that a little bit, actually. Well, Carole,” he revealed, leaning to place the empty bowl down upon the coffee table, admiring the craftmanship as ever. Away from the band, Snedders ran a very successful sideline of carpentry, James putting a lot of work his way after they’d first purchased their forever home. The coffee table was just one of the beautiful, unique pieces within the house crafted by him. 

She was surprised by that. “You did? What prompted that?” 

“Ahh, she made an offhand remark about you analysing her, and I set her straight on it, told her that ain’t the kind of thing you do. I think she tries to use it as a bone of contention a bit too much, innit. Mum’s therapizing me, all that nonsense just because you can figure her out. I told her how lucky she was, having someone like you as a mum.” 

It had been hard for Ella, Lyra having a natural gravitation toward her father, very much daddy’s girl. It wasn’t that they weren’t close, hell, when she’d had her first period late the previous year, it had been her mum she’d immediately gone to. Over the last few months though, she’d noticed her eldest pushing back against her especially. Even more so when James was away with the band. 

“She’s isn’t wrong, though. It is a fault of mine sometimes, to talk to her more from a therapist standpoint than that of a mother,” she confessed, sighing. "But you're right. I will never be in the same bleedin' ballpark as Carole. Good freakin’ god. Never.” 

Such a statement of canid honesty truly reflected that notion. If Ella had her faults, she recognised and acknowledged them. Carole, in her own mind, hadn’t had any. “It’s all teenage shit, innit? She’ll get through it. We were once where she is now, too. Just a lot more fucking troubled. Well, I was, at least.” 

“Yeah, baby. You’re right. I know it probably better than most. It’s tough though, to be challenged so much by that sweet little girl who used to think I hung the moon and stars. I know she’s always been closer to you, but still.” Resting her cheek to his shoulder, she smiled as he wrapped an arm around her, kissing her head. 

“Ain't easy, all this parenting stuff, is it?"  

It wasn’t. Constant worry broken sleep; the latter evidenced later that night when Ella was awoken by tiny hands rousing her with a gentle shake. “Had a bad dream, mummy. Need cuddles.”  

Ella smiled, wrapping Freya in her arms as she pulled her into bed. At least the littlest of the Kingston girls still thought the moon and stars were hung by her mummy.  

[herrlindemann]

KERRANG! - 12 October 2002

For Rammstein, growing up behind the Berlin Wall was a matter of life or death. Their incredible story can finally be told…

From the outside, East Berlin looks like any other prosperous Western city. Take the road to it from Schonfeld airport and the neon glow of petrol stations, fast-food chains, shopping malls and multiplex cinemas all flit reassuringly by. Near the centre, the glitzy communications tower looks positively sci-fi.

Get in closer, and the picture is less pristine. For every sign of new investment, there are as many examples of the old. Crumbling buildings — prison grey and rotting from the former Communist regime — serve as a reminder that the Wall which divided East and West since the Second World War is barely a decade gone. Graffiti covers every surface.

In the Prenzlauer district, this gulf between old and new is particularly striking. Brightly-colored apartment blocks and cafés sit right next to these corroding structures — half of which look like they might disintegrate at any moment. We are warned that the balconies dangling precariously from them have been known to descend into the street without warning.

It’s beneath such a balcony that we find Rammstein — a band renowned for reducing things to rubble.

Seemingly unaware of the latent doom scenario above theirs heads, four out of the six members — that’s guitarist Paul Landers, bassist Oliver Riedel, drummer Christoph Schneider and keyboardist Christian ‘Flake’ Lorenz — are sitting outside a curry house. Second guitarist Richard Z Kruspe-Bernstein is absent, having just moved to New York with his wife, although he literally phones in an appearance late. Press-shy meat-stack Till Lindemann is simply absent and uncontactable.

This is the first time the band have been back in their hometown for any length of time, following their punishing pan-continental touring schedule in support of ‘Mutter’. The atmosphere is relaxed. As everyone points out, this rare bit of downtime has allowed the band to focus on some extra-Rammstein issues. These include therapy, fatherhood, holidays in the sun, and a spot of interior decorating.

Still, these men are gathered here today to discuss Rammstein. If the exploits of six German and their flamethrowers across stages the world over has been long recognized as being one of the most extraordinary successes in rock, then the story of his they got there is even more remarkable.

Given that a band’s genesis is usually a clichéd tale of the unremarkable within the comfort of a Western society, you can’t help but wonder just what nu-metal’s whiny minions would make of Rammstein’s story. As far as band inceptions go, it’s one of the most bizarrely uplifting and surreal celebrations of triumph over adversity.

While techno-punk terrorist Alec Empire grew up on the prosperous, west side of the Berlin Wall, Rammstein began life on the other side. A side they describe as the ‘grey’ society, where queues were long, fun was short-lived and everything from your haircut to your shopping list went on a secret record somewhere. To an outsider, life itself under such conditions seems wretched and impossible. But where there’s a will, there is also a way. If the will is a contrary one with a penchant for mischief, then so much the better.

Indeed, as Paul Landers begins his side of the story you wonder whether, if you were to cut him ope, you might find running through him like the wording on a stick of rock, the legend ‘Adapt, Improvise, Overcome’. Set against the quiet Riedel, the blunt Schneider and the anxious Flake, the voluble guitarist is the animated soul of the band, punctuating all conversation with a flurry of gesticulation and dramatic sound effects.

“We lived like maggots in a piece of meat,” he recalls. “We lived in this repressive society, but we used any space we had for expression and doing things differently.”

Wowed by the power of the electric guitar, Landers soon found an outlet for expression through punk music and formed a band, Feeling B, with East Berlin natives Flake Lorenz and Christoph Schneider.

Punk was generally frowned upon by the state. Yet there were always legal loopholes to exploit. Since churches were exempt from the state certification process, a band could get gigs by registering as a wedding. Any serious gigging required a licence, obtained by playing in front of a designed committee. The guidelines were narrow and according to the guitarist, most licensed bands “sounded like Bruce Springsteen”, but Landers and co remained undeterred.

“On the face of it you complied,” he says, “but below you resisted.”

Cunningly, the band translated any politically sensitive material into English so it wouldn’t be understood and toned down their sound for the committee. The audition was also to bear a characteristic central to later Rammstein outings: a sense of provocative theatre.

“We dimmed the lights,” he says with a conspiratorial chuckle. “And we filled the place with dry ice using a washing machine we’d adapted. But,” and here he raises his finger in emphasis, “we wanted the dry ice to descend over everything like fog. So we put the washing machine on top of a ladder.”

It paid off. The band was issued a licence even if the committee had no idea what they were awarding it to. “We were given category ’S’,” he grins. “The uncategorized category.”

When they weren’t playing gigs, Landers and Flake, who squatted together in an apartment, would sell jackets made from cut-up bedsheets and dusters on the black market. Two jackets a month meant as much money as an average salaried worker.

“It was quite easy to make a living; to not work and stay out of trouble,” says Landers. “You only got problems if you got caught.”

If half of Rammstein were busily subverting the state, guitarist Richard Z Kruspe-Bernstein was suffering under it. Unlike his future bandmates living in the city, Richard — along with Till Lindemann and Oliver Riedel — came from the East German village of Schwerin. As a child, Richard would tell anyone within hearing distance that he was going to be a rock star, and sit for hours recording himself singing along to records. As a teenager, he was a troubled runaway, struggling to pursue his musical dream against a claustrophobic background of parental pressure and small-town mentality, where one in the three people were informants for the Stasi (German secret police).

“It was different in Berlin because it was a city,” he explains. “It was more spread out; but in the small towns they knew everything.”

While music provided an outlet for life’s trials — Richard and Till shared a loose network of bands — the guitarist’s patience snapped in early ’89 after getting caught up in a demonstration, mere months before re-unification. He was arrested and questioned by the police for three days.

“I had to stand against a wall for six hours at time,” he recalls, “and if I moved they beat me.” Richard was so shattered by the experience he decided to escape to the West.

It’s worth pointing out that a shoot-to-kill policy was employed by the police against anyone who tried to cross the wall. Richard is the only member of Rammstein who risked his life for a new one.

“Sometimes you have to do things,” he says, with stunning matter-of-factness. “You take the risk.”

While Richard fled his hometown, his longtime friend Till Lindemann was enjoying a more prosperous existence. Even then, the imposing frontman was something of an enigma, with a curious history. Having already represented the East as an Olympic swimmer, he had retired into that most rock’n’roll of professions: basketweaving. This was in part to recover from a youth recked through illegal steroid abuse.

Lindemann has netter himself a car and a house — unattainable items for most — from his business. It was this house that would be the central catalyst for bringing the six future members together. One morning, Landers, Flake and Schneider found themselves in its garden, after a particularly heavy night of partying.

“He was one of the ‘Silent Village People’,” says Flake of his first impression of the stern German who wrote poetry and could lift up his car by hand. “He was tall and big and did everything alone.”

Though they shared little common ground, notes Flake, a bond was forged. Lindemann was impressed with the music Flake and co bought from Berlin, while Lindemann in turn gave them access to something equally important: transport.

“Till was a party centre!” says Landers. “The stereo was always turned up full, and when we went to see bands, we’d all pile into Till’s car. There’s be up to 10 people in his car at any time…”

If the US-influenced punk played by band members was a product of repression in the East, then Rammstein itself was completely a product of reunification. Initially a casual noise project that took place in the basement between the six aspiring musicians, it came to represent the wealth of possibilities the fall of the Wall had released into their lives. Energy, excitement, experimentation.

“It was like anarchy,” says Schneider. “For a few years you could really do what you wanted to.”

So they travelled for the first time, toured the US for the first time and had access to technology (stage-lights, sequencers, decent amps) for the first time.

They also realized something for the first time. In the free market, to produce music that had any weight behind it, they had to stay true to their German roots.

Inspired by the drive and discipline of US acts, they returned home and began to concentrate more on Rammstein. Out went screaming guitar solos and in came the sequenced rhythms, guttural vocals and monotonous riffs that were to become Rammstein staples.

“It was completely free,” says Kruspe-Bernstein of their new lease of musical life.

“We were playing from the gut.”

Up until this point, Lindemann had still been trying to sing in English — a practice he found restrictive of his more complex lyrical ideas. The band reasoned that if they were going to play authentic, German metal, then they should extend the sentiment to the fullest. Switching to his mother tongue, Tills tales of violence and repressed emotions found a new voice.

“We played hard, we stood still and we had short hair,” says Kruspe-Bernstein. “We knew we were different.”

Rammstein have spent a career capitalizing on this very difference. It’s one of life’s little ironies that their innate German-ness is the very thing that has seen them embraced in every country except their own.

Although this is their hometown, our day with the band is not interrupted once by any fans, autograph hunters or even any stares from the curious, that you’d expect for a multiplatinum international act. Schneider puts much of it down to the fact that the German media still regard the band as a political debate rather than a musical act.

“Fans buy our records and come to the shows,” he says. “But we’ve never had any support from the media here — no airplay, nothing.”

Despite this, it’s interesting to note that all the members of Rammstein, save Kruspe-Bernstein, still live in the old East Berlin. Spend any time with them, particularly Landers, and you’ll feel a marked distaste for the new society. The guitarist’s assertion that capitalism has not been the savior to his hometown is rarely heard thought in a world where history and media have long decreed that no good can come of Communist regimes.

“I’ve seen both systems,” he says. “And if you compare it to now, life was much easier then. All your basic needs were taken care of. Obviously we’re happy the Wall fell, but look at all this, it’s so ugly.”

He gestures to a row of cafés and bars, which, were if not for the graffiti, could happily pass for a trendy corner of Islington. After Berlin was united, these kind of places forced out all the underground clubs and meeting points, stripping Berlin of its new-found energy and excitement. Landers singles out one culprit in particular — a pretentious looking bar called SODA.

“It’s like a yuppie club,” he says with disgust.

“They’re trying to be ‘cool’ and it’s ugly. Whenever I come back here from touring, Berlin seems so flat to me. It’s like I have to look for my own city.”

“The worst thing is, no-one realizes,” he sighs. “They think they have everything. But they have nothing.”

Not wishing to end on a sour note, the guitarist is keen to show us something East Berlin does have.

The Kesselhaus der Kulturbrauerei is a converted brewery complex that now functions as a gig venue and a museum of memorabilia. Here, Rammstein performed their first ever gig in 1993 — an uneventful performance apparently, that resulted only in six stiff necks the day after. But that’s not why we’re here.

In the museum next door is a Trabant — a car famous not just for being ugly and made almost entirely of fibre glass, but for being the only make of car available in the former Communist regime. To say that its awkward, graceless contours place it several rungs below a Skoda on the vehicular evolutionary scale is something of an understatement. It’s hideous and you wouldn’t be seen dead in it.

A grinning Landers notes that one of these beasts once belonged to Till Lindemann, and as such was responsible for forging the bonds that have kept them together for over 15 years.

It’s a surreal notion, particularly since the model in front of us looks like even two people might place an uncomfortable strain on its fragile exterior. However Landers assures us that this one is not to scale.

“Till’s car was much smaller,” he says with a wink. “You could get at least 20 people in this one.”

He raps the shell of the car affectionately, and it seems that everything that’s heroic, shocking, impressive and just blatantly ridiculous about this band suddenly falls into place.

“Easily.”