#SHE LIKE BRAIDS HIS HAIR TO KEEP IT OUT OF THE WAY SO SHE DOESN'T HAVE TO THINK ABOUT HIM ACCIDENTALLY STRANGLING HIMSELF

[bhaalsdeepbat]

I think Lae'zel would really enjoy having her nails painted. she wears warrior makeup all over her face and neck, she has those lovely little braids, she took the time to bead her hair. i think she likes having a little bit of polish to her look

[napstabl00k]

Those sonic prime gjinkas from my day out today

[meanbossart]

ik orin has her crazy braid and u mentioned her cutting drow's hair before so did she like...do his hair regularly or like Ever after the first chop? like what is his relationship to his Hair/maintenance in general? it kind of just looks like he lets it hang but he cares enough to not buzz it all off or let it get frizzy

Behold, the drow hair upkeep timeline:

She only cut it that one time and it was out of necessity, from there on the only person who touched it would have been Sceleritas for a very basic cut to keep it's length. The inch or two he gained while being held hostage by Kressa and her bone-gang is an addition he maintains in the post-game for a good while!

He's more of a man of habit than anything else, so he just hasn't been compelled to change his hair up for any reason yet. And, while not super concerned with beauty, he IS subject to the very ground-roots concept of "long hair elf hot", hence, while he doesn't strive to grow it out past this point, he wouldn't want to just chop it off for no reason as he thinks it suits him this way.

More importantly, he likes having it played with.

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . farmhand!JJ maybank

MINORS DNI. | warnings — fem!reader, degradation, name-calling, crying, sweet pet names, clothes ripping, public sex (kinda, not really), hair pulling, pinching and slapping (he's so annoying), hickeys/bruises, oral (f. receiving), p in v

farmhand JJ who's a total burnout, a high school dropout with no prospects, but he can work

farmhand JJ who's really got nothing but his own two hands, but he'll lift and pull and plant, and his smile's pearly white and all too charming, so your daddy hires him on your farm to help out

you wander around the farm with your top pulled a little bit too low, just enough for that little lacy white bra to peek out of the top

farmhand JJ who looks at you like a shark, like he'd devour you if you let your guard down for two seconds—and you do, and he does

you're inventing excuses out of thin air as to why you have to be outdoors when JJ's working—sometimes it's something sweet, like bringing him a glass of lemonade in the heat—sometimes you just go out to "check on the cows," and you develop a certain affinity for "reading under the big oak tree." you'll come up with anything if it means being out there with him

farmhand JJ who’s so gentlemanlike to your daddy when he comes around, bows his head respectfully and shakes his hand every time

when your daddy says things like, "you make sure you're takin' care of her when she's out here!" JJ’s grinning nonthreateningly and assuring him, “‘course, sir, wouldn’t dream of anythin' less.” with a humble nod, though he makes obscene gestures at you behind your father’s back when he turns around. you almost feel pity for your poor, sweet father and his far too-high opinion of you and JJ. you have to lie that the heat’s quite intense when your father catches you fanning the fiery heat spreading across your cheeks and neck

farmhand JJ who's got a mouth on him (no, not like that) (well, yeah. like that too, actually) who teases you endlessly. calls you a priss and a daddy's girl, a hay slut? whatever the hell that means (he definitely made it up.) he makes fun of your girly clothes and that sweet look you always have on your face, says "you ain't got a clue what's goin' on, huh?"

farmhand JJ who will and has ran his mouth until it made you cry, and waits until there are tears streaming down your face to give you a big grin and grab your face, kissing all over your cheeks and your forehead, insisting, "c'mon babydoll, ya know I didn't mean it, right?" though you're pretty sure that's a lie

farmhand JJ who keeps pressing obnoxious kisses to your tear-stained face until you stop mumbling protests and trying to push him off, and finally just kiss him back

farmhand JJ who always smells like sweat and grass clippings and motor oil, and tastes like sweet tea with too much sugar and sweet corn

farmhand JJ who doesn't care about your cute clothes or your nice hair. he kicks dirt at you when you walk past him, goes out of his way to rip your nice panties when he's having his way with you. when the two of you are rolling around in the barn loft, he manages to get you even more disgusting than you already would've gotten

farmhand JJ who messes up your hair something awful, and if you go out there wearing one of your pretty ribbons, he makes sure to tug it out one way or another—either when you're under him, or just when you're innocently walking past. he grins at the squeal you let out, and tucks it into the back pocket of his jeans, the little sliver of red poking out for the rest of the day

farmhand JJ who kisses you like he wants to eat you, he squishes your cheeks together in his hand, bites your lip and licks at the inside of your mouth feverishly, and when you finally pull away, a string of saliva still connects you

farmhand JJ who’s fucking annoying, who grabs one of your braids and pulls, pinches your cheek—your face and your ass—hard enough to make you yelp, and then gives it a slap with a satisfied grin, tells you he loves hearing you “squeal like a piggy”

when you tell him he can’t leave bruises where your parents can see them, and JJ takes that as a personal challenge

farmhand JJ who leaves massive hickeys on the tops of your breasts, the inside of your thighs between mouthfuls as he goes down on you ravenously, your soft stomach. he decorates you with purple and blue and red and admires each and every one of them

he leaves massive handprint-shaped bruises on your hips and your ass, from slapping and gripping onto you too hard, but they’re hidden by your cute little dresses and skirts—you just can’t wear anything too short, and JJ prefers you have some restrictions anyway

farmhand JJ who's never selfless, not even when he's going down on you. he gets you sat in the seat of the tractor, spreading you wide open until you have one foot up on the dash and the other leg slung over his shoulder, and then he eats your pussy for him

he makes out with it like he's kissing your lips, going slow until you're mewling pathetically and begging him through choked sobs to let you cum. when he gives in to your begging, you almost wish he hadn't with the way he makes you cum over and over again, until you're sobbing and he has to muffle it with his hand

he kisses you, and you taste yourself on him, though you're such a sniffling mess you can barely kiss him back. JJ tells you what he always does: "you're so beautiful when ya cry, baby. ya know that? got the prettiest tears in the whole world, my girl," and you smile a little bit through them

when you’re inside your family's farmhouse, you watch him out the window—mowing the lawn, fixing the fence, lugging a hay bale across the yard. with the disgusting, greasy wife-beater or, if you’re lucky, shirtless, his tan skin bared to the sun. either way, dripping with sweat

you practically swoon every time you watch him out the window, head leaned against your hand. from that distance he almost looks like a nice boy—though you know better

farmhand JJ who catches you, of course, how could he not with the way you’re leaned halfway out the window. he brings it up when he’s fucking you, he’s got you on your back with your legs wrapped around his waist as he ruts against you wildly, telling you: “c’mon baby, get your fill. i saw ya earlier, starin’ at me. ya like what ya see, huh? c’mon, look at me.”

farmhand JJ who grabs your face and makes you stare at him, makes you hold eye contact while he fucks you. when your brain goes all fuzzy and your eyes lose focus as you cum, he looks at you triumphantly, though it makes him bust inside of you with a drawn-out groan

farmhand JJ who holds onto you so tightly

not just when he's holding you in place, or bouncing you on his cock, but also when you're not fucking. when you're both breathless, chests heaving afterwards, laying side-by-side in the hayloft, the muscular arm he has wrapped around your waist is like a vice

farmhand JJ who squishes your hand when he holds it, crushing your fingers with his until you complain owww, and then grins unapologetically

he crushes you when he hugs you, like he's trying to break your ribs between his biceps, fingers digging into your skin and face shoved into your neck as he inhales you

you tell him once, jokingly: "I'm not gonna run away, Jayj," when he's practically squeezing the life out of you. he laughs, but he doesn't loosen up. "ya never know, right? won't take my chances." it's the closest thing he ever says to I don't wanna lose you—the JJ version of saying that

farmhand JJ whose laugh is the closest you've ever gotten to the sound of sunlight. it echoes off the walls of the barn and through the fields, it's loud and gleeful and carefree, and you'd do anything to hear it

farmhand JJ who teases you for all your "rich girl shit," but gets rock-hard at a single whiff of your rose petal perfume, or the barest glance of your candy-sweet lip gloss. "daddy's money, huh? fuck," those are the rare times he fails to make fun of you, his teases dying on his tongue in favor of yanking your skirt up and making quick work of the buttons on your little blouse so he can take his fill of you

farmhand JJ who—rarely, but still sometimes—falls asleep in the hayloft after he tires himself out cumming one too many times inside of you. sunlight still filters through the barn slats, and his tight grip around your waist doesn't loosen at all. you get to stare at his face when it's smooth, not grinning or teasing or twisted up, though there is still a giant smudge of dirt across his cheek

you wonder what it would be like if it stayed like this forever, if neither of you left the farm. you think about JJ at the head of the farmhouse table one day, instead of hauling shit around the yard, and you can't help the fat tears that well in your eyes when you think about how JJ would never go for that. he doesn't stay still. he comes and he goes

eventually, he would go. you knew that. but you lay your head on his chest and play pretend that he won't—just for a little bit

[thebestsetter]

Kuroo has always had a bad hair.

Ever since he was a kid, one of his main physical traits is his atrocious bed hair. He wakes up like that because of how hard he presses his pillows to his ears while he sleeps, so it's not really a habit he can change easily. Also, he has never had a problem with it, especially because his pretty wife, you, said it's one of your favorite parts of him.

You always talk about how you love his hair, even if you still call him "rooster head" sometimes. You love to pet it, you love the shape, the color and everything involving his hair. Not even he is capable of understanding the "attraction" you feel for it, so he just enjoys it.

So yeah, he doesn't really hate his hair, and overtime, he learned how to keep it more "tamed" and "behaved". So he thought his hair problems were over. No more bad hair days.

Well, he thought.

"Stupid... hair tie...." Kuroo murmured, voice coming out muffled because of the pink butterfly pin with glitter that was on his mouth. His eyes held a look of extreme concentration, akin to a hunter aiming for a deer in the middle of the woods.

He was serious. In fact, he had never been so serious in his life. Because this wasn't any occasion. It was the first time you had ever let him dress up your 5 year old daughter for school. He couldn't mess this up.

Her hair needed to be perfect. He just seemed to forget he had never braided a hair before in his life.

"Daddy, are you alright?" His little girl asked, feet moving around and hands on her lap, waiting patiently for her dad to finish the "amazing hairstyle" he promised her.

If only she knew.

"Yeah, sweetheart!" Tetsuro said, drops of sweat running down his forehead. "Just wait a little more!" He said, taking his phone off his pocket while still holding a lock of hair and still with the butterfly pin in his mouth.

He then started watching a video on youtube. It's title was "How to make a braid with only 3 steps".

"Ah, so it's actually done with 3 locks of hair, not only 2!"

He then began treading his daughter's hair with such precision that it was scary. His eyes were focused and it seemed like he couldn't pay attention to anything else. It was only him, the hair ties, and the hair. Nothing else.

After a while, things were actually going somewhere.

No way. He was almost getting it finished!

"Tetsu, honey, are you guys ready?" He heard you calling from the kitchen

"One sec, love!" Kuroo shouted back. "Now I just need to do this and... AHA! My masterpiece is ready!"

"How do I look, daddy?" His daughter asked, smiling brightly at him. Even if she had some missing teeth, Kuroo swore it was the prettiest smile he had ever seen in his life. Of course it was. It was just like your's, afterall.

"You look amazing sweetie. Like a real princess! You're your dad's princess, you know that, right?"

"Thank you dad!" She smiled again, hugging him strongly. He hug her back, careful not to touch her hair in the process. He couldn't ruin his hard work!

"Now, why don't we go show mama how great you look, hm?" He crouched down and smiled at her

"Of course! Let's go dad!" She laughed, grabbing his hands and pulling him downstairs.

She really was the cutest kid Kuroo has ever seen.

"Okay sweetheart, close your eyes!" Kuroo said, peeking from the kitchen's door. "Our daughter wants to surprise you with her amazing hair - the one I braided, of course"

"Sure, Tetsu! I can't wait to see this great work of art!" You giggled, using a sarcatic tone.

I mean, look at his hair. He couldn't have an experience with braiding. It was clear the hair would look utterly horrible.

"Hey, I sensed that sarcasm!" He said, which made you giggle "Mind you, she loved it!"

"If you say so. I'm gonna close my eyes now!" You smiled, putting your hands on front of your eyes to show them you wouldn't cheat and open your eyes

"No peaking, mama!" You heard your daughter saying, her little footsteps making you realize she entered the kitchen.

"Yeah, no peaking!" Kuroo agreed.

Gosh, they really were the same.

"Okay, okay! I'm not gonna peek"

"Now, I'm gonna count to three and say 'now'. Then you can open your eyes!" Kuroo said, voice showing how excited he was

"Okay!" You smiled

"1..."

You were really starting to think he did a great job. He looked so proud of it, after all!

"2..."

You heard your daughter giggling in the background. Maybe you really judged your husband wrong. Maybe he did know how to braid hairs.

"3..."

You were sure it would be at least decent. If it was, then you'd let your daughter wear it to school. If they were both happy, why not?

"Now!"

You then remove your hands from your face and open your eyes, meeting the most...

Atrocious braid you've ever seen.

"She's not going like that to school." You deadpanned, looking at the hair and wondering why he thought this looked good. Had he never seen a braid before in his life?

"HUH? WHY NOT?" Kuroo shouted, his chest that was once proudly puffed up now deflating

"Why not, mama?" Your daughter started tearing up, looking up at you with big, pleading eyes.

"It looks..." terrible. Is what you really wanted to say.

But looking at your the sad faces of your family members, you didn't find the strength to do so. And so, with a sigh, you smiled and said

"Too good! Other kids will be jealous!"

"For a moment there I thought you were judging my hairstyling habilities!" Kuroo laughed, that obnoxious laugh of his that you loved so much echoing through the halls

"Oh!" Your daughter also laughed, the same way her dad did "There's no problem! I can tell dad to do their hairstyles too!"

"Great idea, sweetie!" Kuroo agreed with her, eyes sparkling up

"I think... it's better if you don't"

"What do you mean by that?" Kuroo asked, looking straight at you with a very sad face.

"Just... you don't seem to have a talent with hairs."

"But you told me you love my hair!" Tetsuro pouted

"I do. And I love you, too!" You kissed his nose, making him smirk at you.

"Not enough. What about... here?"

He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in for a kiss on the lips. It was full of all the love and passion he held for you and the family you both created together.

"Ewww, daddy and mommy are kissing! Gross!" Your daughter put her tongue out and did a "throwing up" mimic, making you both laugh.

"Now, let's take you to school, sweetheart!"

You smiled, leading both your husband and your daughter to the car.

You really loved your family, even if Kuroo didn't know how to deal with hairs sometimes.

You wonder if he would "get along" better with his son's hair. The son that he still doesn't know is in your belly right now.

Well, he still has 7 months to practice for when the time comes.

~ A/N: FINALLY WROTE A REQUEST!! It was so fun writing this omG. I love healthy families 💕. ALSO, first hq fic!! 🥳🥳

Masterlist

[asocialangel]

how MHA lovers like to kiss you

pt. 2 of how they like to kiss uuuu ( ˘ ³˘) 💕

2nd and last part of how i think the bnha lovers would kiss you~ gender neutral and fluffay

includes: monoma, shinsou, sero, denki, iida, hawks, dabi and toga.

monoma loves sending you air kisses. First of all because they are practical, he doesn't even need to move, he sees you across the room and gets to tell you he loves you. But also because they are so fun ! He loves to remind you he loves you in a light-hearted way. Usual gestures can quickly feel too formal, but air kisses keep it cheeky. Idk, to me, it’s just so fitting ! Obvi he will kiss you for real often tho. 

Sero: spider man kiss. Hello ? corny but accurate let's be real ! I feel like since he is a fan of spider man, he prolly knows about it already and really wanted to try it out. It was so fun ! So now you get to do it but only organically, if you happen to catch him in that position, after a joint rescue mission for exemple. It’s rather rare so it makes these kisses feel even more special. 

hawks go-to kisses are french kisses. Pretty committed isn't it ? He just can't get enough of you and of the sensation. He is a pretty good kisser you can admit, but you’ve put it together: if he kisses you so much, it means you are a great kisser too ! ha-ah ! Anyway, your boyfriend will always make the time to kiss you with tongue, no matter when or where, even if the cameras are watching. Most of the time you’re the one to let go too cause he could breathe you in all day, forgetting he has actual responsibilities ! 

iida kisses your whole body. If you put it metaphorically, it's to show you he loves you from a to z. He never thought about it that way though, his silly mind just loves to shower every inch of you with love. It’s kinda surprising and fun to guess where he will kiss you next. Your pinkie ? Your knee ? Your braided hair ?? It’s super cute and pure. 

Shinsou loves a chest kiss. He isn't big on PDA, but when he is physical with you behind closed doors, he's devoted to you. He loves to randomly kiss your chest at any given moment. Casual talk about what's for dinner ? He will lean in and kiss you through your hoodie and continue talking like nun happened. Cuddling together ? He will kiss you thousands of times on your chest, like a snuggling cat. Something about your chest feels warm and fuzzy. 

Denki loves classic lip kisses. Goodbye ? Steal a quick kiss from your soft lips. Good morning ? A long but superficial kiss of your warm lips. Something about it is almost innocent to him. Sometimes he'll put his tongue in, yes, he is a freak at heart after all, but for casual instances, he’d rather give you a teasy lip kiss while looking you in the eyes.

Dabi is an ear kisser. yes yes. He will nibble a bit sometimes, whisper to you something before or after kissing your ears, breath in and caress you with wind. He knows you are very sensitive there, and he loves feeling his cheek against yours. Also when he kisses you it’s cold, just wanted to add that >u<. 

Toga will almost exclusively hickey kiss you. She loooves the feeling of latching onto you, and leaving her mark. Kinda telling the whole word: yup, mine ! I did that ! don't get too close i'll be there ! Because her little fangs make her hickeys very recognisable too. She loves to leave her hickeys everywhere on you, but she has a preference for your neck. She can’t hold back that cuteness aggression when she sees your face !

[yonch]

it's been 15 years and you can see better than ever

(design notes under the cut) (there are spoilers)

ok this got really long. here you go

sif:

ditched the cloak. it was collecting dust in their closet until recently, but they realized they don't need to cling to their grief so much anymore. someone else will need it more soon.

ditched the eyepatch. the prosthetic eye is a labor of love designed by isa, as is literally everything else they're wearing.

they cut their bangs finally and started braiding their hair back so it wouldn't obscure their vision as much anymore.

they like darker/tighter clothing and prefer function over form but unfortunately their gay ass boyfriend keeps treating them like a dress up doll so they're stuck wearing waistcoats and a fancy cloak. (they don't mind. it's designed to look like loop.) they keep flowers in their many pockets to give to people.

they're a woodworker in their free time. they don't usually talk about being any sort of savior so he just becomes sif the guy who's really good at carving birthday presents for people and also tags along with isa to charity parties and fundraisers

41 year old 5'1" they/he absolutely zero intention of Changing. bonded to isabeau. they adopted a kid who leo or i might post about some other time i think. her name is estelle.

isa: i'm not taking credit for the design that's by my friend @fembard /@leoweooo. i'll include his design notes

isa dresses mostly for comfort, he doesn't like wearing stuff that might get stained or ruined when he's dyeing clothes or chasing stelle around in the mud or something, all his fashion sense goes into his handiwork

he Changed a few more times over the 15yrs, eventually settled. picked up she/her pronouns again on the side but was never really able to ditch the name isabeau and he kinda ran out of names anyways...

kept the long hair, kept a few inches in height, very happy to fulfill the role of male (space) wife

can't ditch the kimono jacket it's the piece de resistance. odile influence and Wisening Of Age means its made with a little more knowledge of ka buan technique but still very clearly an Isa Design. the fabric is imported silk sif!!!!!!

39 year old Tall with a capital T he/she "i swear i'm not a weeaboo i'm just really into ka buan fashion" vaugardian indie clothing designer in your area help support this man in his attempts to use his family members as living advertisements for his brand

mira: with design input from @jastertown thank you my friend

i took a lot of inspiration for the sparkly, sheer fabric on her dress from euphrasie. she's not head housemaiden yet because she doesn't feel like she's ready but everybody knows it'll be her

speaking of inspiration. she's been taking a lot of fashion cues from a certain lady in dormont that she thought was kind of scary, but it turns out she's very nice? they're besties now.

she got rid of the earrings for a little bit but then she realized she just liked how they look on her. so now they go ding ding! it's for her and nobody else, and that's how she likes it.

moved her ornaments to her skirt because they ding ding more often there. her necklace also jingles with merriment.

38 year old she/her advanced cisgender+ legend who's realizing that people are trying to get her to be the pope but all she really wants to do is write yaoibait fiction that looks like it came straight off of ao3

odile:

my glorious hag. she started shrinking about 3 years ago. all those years of bending over books has finally caught up to her. her hips are fuuuuuucked. but she has a sick cane that sif carved for her so everything's okay

she was already pretty comfortable and settled in her sense of style when she was nearing 50 so i don't think she would change much. darker clothing maybe. ditched the high-waisted pants for some looser slacks.

she's started writing a familytale of her own. the only person she's told about it is bonbon, who caught her up way past their bedtime, and scribbled all over one of the pages. she'll pass it on to sif when the time's right, after she's written down everything she can remember about their family.

64 year old she/her wasian researcher recovering from hernia surgery who's getting really into things like "political activism" and "body craft law reformation in ka bue" and "making sure people aren't sourcing their hrt from back alleys"

bonnie:

prefers to go by boniface these days. it's cooler. more mature. please stop calling me bonbon that's a nickname from when i was 10 guys c'mon guys ugh fine frin you can still call me bonbon but not around my girlfriends ok (nobody calls them boniface except for odile)

speaking of which they have 3 butch lesbian girlfriends. this got established as a joke but i think they have it in them. they're still young!!!!!!! they should be at the club!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

they traveled for a while with everybody but eventually settled down back in bambouche to start a little family owned restaurant with nille featuring dishes from all over the globe. people travel from all over to get a taste of boniface's good eats... bambouche is bustling. (they have a few recipes that are sourced from the country. they meet people every once in a while who find something achingly familiar about it, and they usually direct those people to jouvente to get in contact with frin.)

26 year old they/them "i dont know how tall i am but i'm taller than za" chef cooker whose restaurant keeps lighting on fire because this time i swear nille i can figure out how to do cooking craft i swear i wont explode the kitchen this time please i promise

loop:

ok. this is where lozy gets to just talk about what he thinks happens post game. i think they stick around for way longer than they really should and follow the crew around on their travels (mostly invisibly) because they're sooo fucking scared of change they're sooo scared and they're so scared of their wish fucking up beyond belief. they're kind of incapable of aging or dying in this body and theyre like permanently 26 which is what spurs them to finally move on.

i think they go back to their timeline eventually after making a Brand New Wish to "go back to their real family." alas the universe leads and we can only follow. and it turns out loop has actually made a real family in stardust's world also. this is my justification for why they can pop in between sasasap and isat worlds without much repercussion. i think they're always permanently loop shaped in isat but i imagine they can probably go back to their original body in their home timeline... might design that later. who knows. i'm fucked like that

i just think they deserve a chance for their own happy ending you know. isat's a game about how it's never too late to communicate and how you shouldn't punish yourself forever and ever. and i think theyve punished themself enough you know.

ok tank you for reading if you read this far. it's really big and long so i would understand if you didn't. but i hope you liked it. thoughts appreciated. here's a little something for the people who read all the way through.

[hello-eden]

Unexpended Hope 2

part one

Tim wanted to lay at home at the Manor on the couch and work on his case. He hates galas. He's the best at them but that does not mean he likes it. Dick realizes that Damian's been missing for over a hour so Tim volunteered to go look for him.

He's checked the entire floor above, the cameras in the lobby and he just gets up the stairs for the next floor when he sees him. Tim almost doesn't recognize him for a minute. He has a small smile and is talking with his hands, which is something Damien never does but everything else about him is the same. Damien is talking to someone that Tim can't see.

There's no place to really hide over here so he just stand in the stairway and wait to be noticed. It took a lot longer than Tim thought it would be noticed but in that time he sees the person that Damian's talking to.

It's a girl. 

Tim was not expecting to find Damien with someone let alone a girl. Damien seems to be enjoying whatever they are talking about but that doesn't make it any less unusual. She's auburn hair braided out of her face in a teal mid length dress with black accents. 

What surprises him the most other than the fact that she is not flinching away from Damien is that she's wearing Damien’s suit jacket.  It's about 5 minutes before either of them notices that he's in front of them.

The two of them exchange a look and then Damien seems to go back to his normal self. he's scowling he's glaring at him like he usually does and he has no signs of what Tim's assuming was happiness that he had seconds before.

“Drake, is there a reason you are here?” Damien sneered at him.

 “You've been missing from the party for almost 2 hours. We came looking that you didn't kill anyone” Tim responded back.

The girl that Damien was talking to started to giggle. Instead of glaring at her, Damien tried to pinched her without looking away from Tim. The girl slapped Damian's hand away before he could actually do it.

 “Who's your friend?” Tim questions refusing to be the one to break eye contact with Damien first.

 “Sarah Lauren” the girl replies, snapping in front of their eyes and then holding out a hand for him to shake.

 He does.

 “you're Byron Lauren's daughter right Bruce was just talking to him when I left” Tim smiles his best socialite smile.

it's probably useless now that she's seen him interact with Damian but it's better to be polite. Sarah seems to twitch after he said that. if he wasn't trained as well as he was he wouldn't have noticed.

 “If we are done with this Dreadful small talk” Damian brings the attention back to himself. If Tim didn't know any better he would think it would stop Sarah being uncomfortable. “is my presence required back at that Useless occasion.” 

“Bruce Needs you for something” Tim says trying not to mention what it was in front of the obvious civilian. There isn't anything Cape related but he'd prefer to have Damian alone to talk to him and that would be going much easier if Damien thought it was a cape thing.

“lead the way back to those horrid party guests.” 

Tim does move to leave them back to the party going ahead in front of them but definitely listening to whatever they're going to say behind him 

“How do you know him?”  Sarah asks Damian. Damien didn't instantly introduce himself as a Wayne? That's different or does she not know anything about the Wayans and she just didn't put it together.

 “Third brother” Damien replies. 

“Third brother, how many siblings do you have?” Sarah questioned

Tim needed to talk to Dick about this. He's the one who keeps up with Damien's social life; he'd know what is going on.

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hi! I love your writing sm! I haven’t really seen anyone do this, so I wanted to ask if you could do Catvi x reader with curly hair, Ty!!

OHHH my god. Why have I not thought of this? Anon, you're a genius. Coming right up!

Curls and Coils | CaitVi x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: Headcanons of CaitVi with a curly-headed cutie!

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: None!

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

– CaitVi are obsessed with your hair.

– They love watching your curls in the sunlight, how they look when they're wet, gelled, or moussed. They're also fascinated with the diverse hairstyles you can do such as locs, box braids, or other protective hairstyles(if you're Black).

– If your hair is more on the coily side, they're just as obsessed and absolutely baffled by the shrinkage you encounter.

– As for caring about your hair, they would help you with wash days, go to the store and get you products if you run out, and offer to help with detangling if you need it.

– If you need help with washing and detangling, CaitVi will cancel everything on their agenda to take care of you. They won't let you help with takedown, the actual wash/condition, and detangling.

– They like to rotate roles on your wash days. One would do the washing and the other detangling.

– Though they switch, they have their favorite roles. Cait's favorite role is washing while Vi's is detangling.

– For Vi, there's something so empowering about getting fairy knots, regular knots, and tangles out of your hair. She doesn't have the faintest clue as to why.

– For Caitlyn, she likes to provide a service that's relaxing for you. If you don't want to talk while you get your hair washed, you got it. She'll be silent and thorough to get dirt out and moisture back in.

– If there's a new curly-haired product that drops, trust Cait and Vi are already on top of it.

– Caitlyn subscribed to a curly-hair magazine to keep up with the latest trends and products while Vi has a few friends who keep her in the loop.

– If you're ever insecure, trust the two of them will be there to assure you about your hair.

– And if you ever talk down about your hair, they'll be reassuring too. Although at the beginning of your relationship, they're more gentle with their reassurance. Once you became more comfortable with each other, their reassurance became more scolding than anything.

– "I swear to God. If I hear you talking that way about your hair again, I will shove you." | "And what did we say about talking down about yourself? Yup, that's right. To the mirror. Say your hair affirmations."

– If you're sleeping and they notice your protective hairpiece is slipping off, they'll fix it before they go to sleep themselves.

– Also, if you're taking forever to do your hair before going out or get frustrated with your edges not cooperating, they won't hesitate to step in and help you. (Or to calm you down before you throw your brush across the room).

– Also, on occasion, Vi and Caitlyn like to homage to your hairstyle in their outfit or hairstyles too.

– Vi and Caitlyn love your hair, almost (if not) more than you do! They will remind you every day with kisses on your cheek while complimenting your hair.

WC: 487

[filmsmakkari]

your highness

fred weasley x slytherin!reader

Summary: When Slytherin beats Gryffindor in the final quidditch match of the season, Fred Weasley decides to give the Slytherin princess a little reward

CW: NSFW, semi public sex(?), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praising.

Author's Note- As usual, I had a black reader in mind, so (Y/N) is described as having braids, but that's the only physical description. Anyone can imagine themselves in this fic. Also emmm I have never written smut in my life saurrr... I hope this makes you horny and I'm sorry if it doesn't!

To say that (Y/N) (L/N) hated Fred Weasley would be an understatement.

The Princess of Slytherin was in the prefect’s restroom, trying to wash the red and gold dye out of her hair. The last quidditch game of the autumn term was the next day, and Fred fucking Weasley thought it would be funny to make a mockery of the Slytherin team captain by having Peeves throw ink at her as she tried to run down the moving staircases. 

“That bloody…” she muttered as she roughly scrubbed her scalp. She’d been at it for what felt like hours when the dye finally washed away, and the raven-winged color of her long braids was finally visible again. 

Enraged, (Y/N) stomped out of the bathroom, envisioning ways to get her revenge. In her anger and fantasies of all the means of torture she could inflict upon the irritating prankster, she was barely aware of her feet carrying her down to the ever-calming bioluminescence of the  Slytherin common room. She waved her wand violently, blowing around a stack of papers and knocking over a desk, catching the attention of Blaise Zabini. 

The boy seemed slightly frightened as he said, “Hey (Y/N/N), you alright?”

(Y/N) huffed with irritation. “Oh, I’m more than alright. I’m ready to knock Weasley off his bloody broom.”

-

The Great Hall was alive with conversation. Some students excitedly cast charms, creating fireworks with their house colors and animals, while others feasted on fruits and vegetables in preparation for the big match. Slytherin vs. Gryffindor games were always the most anticipated. The extreme disdain between the two teams brought out the absolute best in them as players. Even if it was occasionally violent, it made for a great game. 

Fred and George Weasley sauntered into the hall with the typical swagger of Gryffindors, scanning the tables and admiring the displays from the students. As Fred eyed the Slytherin table, his gaze fell upon her. There in her quidditch sweater, brown knee-high boots, and a horribly tempting skirt, the Slytherin Princess, who’d earned her title by getting the best grades in her house, being captain of the quidditch team, and being so ridiculously beautiful that even the proudest Gryffindors tried their luck with her, was sitting on the table, locked in conversation with Blaise Zabini and Emma Vanity- the Slytherin chasers.

“Discussing a new and improved strategy for the pitch?” Fred asked, approaching her. “I might as well tell you now, you’re wasting your time.”

(Y/N) turned to him with an eye roll.  “Keep taunting me, Weasel. It’s the most satisfaction you’ll get today.”

“Keep dreaming. Tell me, how’d you like my little gift yesterday?” Fred asked, resting his hands on the table and leaning close to her face.

(Y/N) hummed. “To be honest I’d expected more from you, beater. You couldn’t even do the job yourself. That scared of little old me?” 

“You wish. You’ll see out there today. Tell you what. If you win, which you won’t, I’ll reward you,” Fred smirked.

“Please, what could you possibly have that I want?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Too bad you’ll never find out.” Fred winked and walked over to the Gryffindor table, filling (Y/N) with so much irritation that it made her face hot.

-

Fred Weasley was eating his words.

The match was over before it began, the Slytherin players flying like bullets, (Y/N) ’s strategy working to absolute perfection, giving (Y/N) the perfect opportunity to catch the snitch without hesitation, winning the last game of the season.

The after-party was a blur of green and silver, fireworks, and cheering. One second (Y/N) was being hoisted up in the air by her teammates while they chanted her name; the next, she was playing games with giggle juice and fire whisky with her classmates. The snake lair was on fire with passion and excitement. While (Y/N) was reveling in it all, she had another celebration in mind. While her friends chanted so loud that the paintings were all forced to cover their ears, (Y/N) quickly slipped out of the common room and skipped happily up the stairs with a clear destination in mind.

As the sleeping form of the fat lady came into view, (Y/N) suddenly realized she had no actual plan. She couldn’t get into the Gryffindor common room, and even if she could, what would she do? Find Weasley in his dorm room and slap him? Cast a spell turning all the furniture silver and green to boast Slytherin pride? Steal Fred’s clothes while he was in the shower and- oh. Somewhat embarrassed at how eager she’d been to go to the Gryffindor common room and at how her thoughts kept wandering back to Fred, (Y/N) quickly turned around and began to go back to her dorm but was quickly stopped in her tracks.

Standing before her was the very person who’d been nagging at her thoughts all night. There was Fred Weasley, with dripping wet red hair and no shirt, looking down on her with irritation and amusement.

“Well well,” he said tauntingly, stepping closer and closer to her until her back was pressed against the wall. “Just what is the snake princess doing so close to the lion’s den? Came here to gloat?” Heat was radiating off of him. He was angry about the match.

(Y/N) swallowed, suddenly nervous, her usual Slytherin pride and confidence nowhere to be found. “As a matter of fact, Weaselbee, I’m here to see you. I told you I’d win, I’m here to claim my reward.”

Fred raised an eyebrow at this. He walked over to the fat lady, knocking on the portrait softly. The fat lady awoke with a jump, giving Fred a frustrated glare.  “Sorry about this,” said Fred. “Iced Mice.” The fat lady hesitated. “And just what are you doing bringing her in here?”

(Y/N)’ s bite finally returned as she spoke, “I can show you better than I can tell you. How about a charm for taking the tongues of bad singers?” Fred chuckled at that.

“Why, I never!” said the fat lady as she finally swung open the door.

Fred took hold of (Y/N) ’s hand as he walked in, dragging her behind him.

(Y/N)’ s words were full of venom as she whisper-shouted, “Just what do you think you’re doing, you slimy-”

“Just be quiet for once, princess.”

Indignation swelled in (Y/N) ’s chest, but she obeyed. Though she toothlessly fought back, attempting every now and then to snatch her arm away from him, deep down, she wanted to see where this would go.

Fred dragged her to a dark corner, taking her by her hips and lifting her onto a desk. 

“What the hell are you doing?” (Y/N) asked with a furious look, but there was no bite behind the glare. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was afraid he’d hear it. 

“You came for your reward, didn’t you? You were so desperate for it that you were willing to cheat during the match,” he said, moving her hair and leaning into her ear.

(Y/N) shuddered at the closeness before pushing him away. “I didn’t cheat, Weasley, the hell are you talking about?”

Fred hummed, smoking at her and placing his arms on either side of her, caging her in.

(Y/N) scoffed. “This is ridiculous, I can’t believe I wasted my time coming here. Have a nice life carrot top.”

(Y/N) pushed him again, hopping off the desk and starting to walk away from him, but Fred quickly grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back into him and placing a wet, passionate kiss on her lips. (Y/N)’ s eyes widened in shock as Fred Weasley, the person she hated most since first year, slipped his tongue into her mouth and lifted her back onto the desk. Shocked and confused, she pushed him away a third time.

Fred looked deeply into her eyes, a tendril of red hair hanging over his eyes, making him impossibly more attractive. “Oh c’mon, love, don’t act like you don’t want it too. Like you haven’t wanted it since fourth year when you walked in on me showering after the quidditch cup.”

(Y/N)’s face got hot at the memory. “I hate you. You hate me. I’m the “princess of Slytherin,” remember?”

“Well then, your highness, allow me to serve you,” said Fred, dropping to his knees.

“What are you doing?” (Y/N) asked, her voice shaking as Fred ran his hands up and down her thighs, barely past her skirt. The tight little green dress and those white knee-high socks she was wearing had been driving him crazy since he first saw them, and he wanted nothing more than to see what was hidden underneath them.

“I’m rewarding you, even if you did cheat like a naughty little serpent, somehow I feel like this will be just as much as a reward for me.” He spread her legs wide, getting in between them and slowly peeling back her skirt.

(Y/N) breathed in sharply. “You have tormented me for six years, and now you expect me to let you use me to get off?’ 

“‘M sorry,” said Fred, kissing her thigh softly. (Y/N) shuddered. Fred kissed his way up to her sopping wet heat, muttering “I’m sorries” between every kiss. He finally made his way to her lacy undergarment, placing a soft kiss there. “You’re so wet, darling,” he said, popping his head out and looking at her, “It seems like you’ve already forgiven me.”

“In your bloody dreams, Weasley,” (Y/N) said with an unconvincing scoff. “I’ll hate you until the day I die.”

Fred hummed before quickly dipping his head back between her thighs, sliding her panties to the side, and licking a long stripe through her slick.

(Y/N) let out a throaty moan at the sensation, gripping the desk tightly. 

Fred chuckled against her, the vibrations making her breathe in deeply. “What was that about you hating me, love?” he asked.

“Shut up and get on with my reward, asshole.”

Fred smirked. “As you wish, your grace.”

Fred grabbed her thighs tightly and went to work, taking her clit into his mouth and sucking it like a starving man. (Y/N) moaned loudly before placing her hand over her mouth. Fred looked up at her, his sudden pause making her whimper. “No, no, no, darling. Don’t hide the noises.” He slowly pushed a single long finger inside her. “Let the whole school know.” Another finger. He looked into her eyes with a wicked smile. “Let them all hear how the snake princess let a lion make her scream.” He added two fingers that time and rapidly pumped in and out. And, just as he said she would, (Y/N) screamed. She went to cover her mouth again, but with his free hand, he took both of her wrists and held them in front of her. It burned, but it felt so good. (Y/N) began to move her hips slightly to increase the sensation, making Fred smile. “That’s it, beautiful, good girl. Good girl.” Fred spoke in a way that was almost patronizing. If she weren’t so close to the edge, she probably would have made some snarky remark, but (Y/N) couldn’t think straight as the pressure in her stomach was building up, and the Weasley boy was making her see stars. She let out another loud moan, throwing her head back as the pressure became unbearable. 

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” (Y/N) screamed as Fred’s fingers slammed into her g-spot, and she finally couldn’t take it anymore. (Y/N) let out a scream as she came, barely aware of anything around her. Her vision went blurry as the hot juices spilled out of her. Fred wasted no time re-attaching his mouth to her drenched cunt, licking up her juices until she was clean. “Mmm, sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Surprising for such a nasty girl,” Fred said, slapping her thigh, sliding her panties back over, and standing up.

He placed his arms on either side of her, staring at her intensely, his hair disheveled and her cum around his mouth. (Y/N) matched his gaze with equal intensity, her heart pounding, a million questions running through her head. After a few beats of silence, she finally spoke. 

“I still hate you.”

Fred actually laughed at that, shaking his head before looking back at her. “Beat me again, princess, and I’ll give you a better reward then my fingers and my  mouth,” he rasped into her ear before walking off to his dorm room, leaving her with her legs spread on a table of the Gryffindor common room.

“We’ll see how much you hate me then!”

[blueblossomrose]

TW boys with a fem reader who is basically Rapunzel from Tangled. Like, reader has magical long hair that can heal and it's also unbreakable. Plus, she has a kind and passionate personality but don't take her for granted, she can be fiesty when she wants and can stand on her own.

Characters: Ace Trappola, Azul Ashengrotto, Epel Felmier, Rollo Flamme, Ruggie Bucchi, Jamil Viper, Fellow Honest

Content: Rapunzel!Fem!MC/Reader, maybe broken english, references Tangled (2010), some swear words? maybe

Note(s): Thank you for the ask and sorry for the extreme delay 😭 I chose the characters that I thought best matched the request <3

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

Summary: What if the prefect of the Ramshackle Dorm was a certain princess? One who has never left her tower, who has very long, magical hair, a pet chameleon, and uses a frying pan to defend herself.

He would probably make fun of you. I mean, besides being a newbie to Twisted Wonderland you're still so naive?

He might try to trick you with some harmless little lies, just to be funny, but as time goes by, he becomes more and more enchanted by you.

He might ask her to heal him of minor injuries just to see how it works, but he would pretend he didn't care much.

He would find it hilarious that you uses a frying pan to defend yourself. At first, he might tease you that it's a weird way to fight, but after he gets hit (probably because he's too cheeky), he realizes that you actually knows how to use it and learns to respect that.

Your magical hair, the way you handled things... even the frying pan hits you gave him over the head when he was going too far. He realizes that he enjoys your company more than a friend.

Because you're different from the people he knows. You are guileless, you doesn't lie like he does, and your honesty comes from a place of genuine kindness. This slowly disarms him.

He'd be irritated (but secretly confused) to realize that he likes to protect you when someone tries to take advantage of your naivety.

He might end up getting jealous if someone else gets too much attention from you. He would cover it up by saying he's just "keeping you out of trouble," but anyone would see that he's clearly bothered.

He doesn't get along with Pascal at first, his rivalry is even more intense with the little reptile than with Grim, actually.

Eventually, he becomes attached to Pascal as he has become attached to everyone in the group. The chameleon takes advantage of the opportunity to sit on his shoulders or on his orange hair.

When he's getting into trouble, you grab him with your hair and keep him from making more trouble, often turning him upside down.

When your hair was braided for better mobility, he was: 😳

It's in book 4 after the confusion with Jamil and Scarabia, he was semi-ready to declare himself more honestly.

"Look, I don't know if it's because you hit me over the head with that frying pan or if you really did charm me with that shiny hair, but... I think I like you. And before you say something silly... you better tell me you like me too."

Your very limited contact with men meant that you didn't have as many prejudices regarding height or... appearance.

This kind of made you not assume he was a girl and just ask him directly. This was enough to make Epel feel more comfortable with you.

Unlike Ace, his first contact with Pascal was surprisingly calm and he likes the little chameleon, the feeling is mutual.

Over time, Epel realized that he admired your strength and innocence. You are a bit naive but you knows how to defend yourself! He wanted to know how to handle that frying pan as well as you.

You encourage him beyond his insecurities, able to make him see the best in himself and show it to the world.

It's in book 6 that he realizes your true determination. I mean, the way you took out those robots was incredible!

He watched your magical hair heal everyone... truly so wonderful it's almost unbelievable. You have the gift of healing.

It was probably Vil who made your hair easier to move with a braid. Epel who put on the decorations, though. He blushed at your compliments.

He was ready to admit it when he's tied up in your hair.

"You... look even more beautiful from this angle..."

Upon hearing about the mysterious newcomer, Azul sees an opportunity. If you is lost and confused, perhaps you needs help... and who better than him to offer your a "small" contract?

He unfortunately (perhaps fortunately) was unable to actually contact you until the events from book 3.

Upon meeting you, Azul is intrigued. You unusual beauty, the sparkle in your eyes and, most importantly, your long magical hair pique his interest.

Your genuine kindness began to disconcert him. How could someone be so honest, so without ulterior motives? It was an irritating naivety… and at the same time, endearing.

Yet, you know how to defend yourself very well... much better than well, in fact.

When Floyd made a joke that your hair sometimes looked like Azul's tentacles, he found himself thinking about it more than he should have.

During book 4 you two get closer, you're practically his knight in shining armor. Although due to the situation, it should be the other way around.

Pascal didn't like him, but he started to like him after he helped you. Azul is happy that he no longer feels threatened by a animal that size.

He feels safe when he's being healed by you and your magical hair... maybe that means something.

You seem curious about your octopus form. It makes him feel embarrassed, but... you look so trusting. It's weird. He doesn't want to trust anyone but you just make his brain relax. It's scary.

To the point where he suddenly finds himself opening up to you about things he didn't want to talk initially, he suddenly stops with a red face and that stupid smile on your face only makes him redder.

"You look more confident with that braid, [Name]-san. Beautiful flowers."

Your long magical hair drew attention wherever you went, especially because it was uncut and shiny. Some students were curious, others suspicious, but none reacted like Rollo Flamme.

From the first moment he saw you, Rollo felt a mixture of fascination and contempt. Your hair clearly possessed magical properties, and the mere fact of its existence was a reminder of what he hated most.

However, you behavior baffled him. Unlike the arrogant mages he despised, you was kind and naive, in awe of everything around you. You asked questions about Noble Bell College, about Fleur City, about the Bell of Salvation, listening to each answer with an enchanted glint in your eyes.

He inevitably treated you differently than he treated the other students at NRC. At first it was to help his charade and also because you were a girl, but later it became much more genuine than he wanted.

Rollo tried to keep his distance, but he couldn’t help but feel a peculiar irritation whenever she got into trouble or when anyone got too close to her.

You used a frying pan to defend yourself, which was, in his view, completely absurd. And yet strangely effective. He witnessed this when a student tried to cut a lock of your hair and received a direct hit.

Your chameleon, who seemed to constantly judge him, became more of a problem. Pascal didn't like it when he got too close to you, and stuck his tongue in Rollo's ear. Mortifying. For Rollo at least.

The chaos of Rollo’s plan was coming to an end. Rollo knew he was defeated. But he refused to show weakness, even in the face of the fae prince. His body was exhausted, wounded, but before Malleus could deliver the final blow, [Name] acted, your long magical hair shot forward, coiling around Rollo and lifting him into the air, upside down.

His eyes widened, confused, indignant. “What do you think you’re doing?!” he would ask.

“Stopping Malleus from turning you to ash,” you replied, as if it were obvious. “You already lost. You doesn’t need to hurt yourself anymore.”

Rollo gritted his teeth, hating this feeling of helplessness. He tried to struggle, but the your strands were stronger than they looked. “I don’t need your pity,” he growled.

Before he could protest more, you began to sing. The golden glow enveloped his body, and Rollo felt something strange, a soft warmth running through his wounds, the pain dissipating, the fatigue fading.

He hated it. Hated the magic, hated the feeling of vulnerability. But most of all, he hated the fact that, for a brief moment, he didn’t want you to stop.

He hated all magic... but yours was an exception.

He helped re-braid your hair at the ball.

"Come here. I'll pick some flowers..."

Jamil imprisons you as part of his plan in the event of Book 4. You, who has never seen the world beyond your tower before Twisted Wonderland, not exactly panicking? But you understand that the situation is critical so you try to escape.

While trying to maintain his cover as a loyal servant, he mentally mocks your naivety at first, but is soon surprised by you determination in trying to escape... using a frying pan.

After book 4, he learned valuable lessons about how not to mess with you or your pets... and also that frying pans hurt a lot.

When forced to be around you, he begins to feel sympathy for you. He recognizes your kindness and passion, unlike Kalim, your ignorance was more justified in Jamil's opinion alone, of course.

Pascal didn't like him very much from the beginning, but when they understood each other, it became a beautiful friendship. I guess reptiles understand each other?

He would watch with unparalleled calm as you grabbed him with your hair... well, expected.

In book 5, he pulled you to the mat before Vil could even get close.

After several interactions in which he begins to realize your strength and kindness, Jamil falls in love with you. He sees in you someone who, despite your naivety, has the power to heal not only physically but emotionally. Everyone likes you, one way or another.

Just like Ace, he was 😳 when you showed off your Vil-braided hair. You look beautiful either way, but your hair has an extra charm this way.

"Nice braids... I can make some more for you. H-hm, if you want, of course."

Perfect Flynn Rider. Scoundrel, thief, humble origins... the name is Ruggie Bucchi.

He tried to take advantage of her naivety several times while they were getting to know each other, but after book 2, the relationship actually improved.

Whenever he tried to steal something from you without you seeing, Pascal would magically appear next to him and stick his tongue in Ruggie's ear.

"AARGH! Not again!" Ruggie shook like crazy, trying to get the little animal away. Pascal, in turn, just went back to his place, satisfied.

During the chaos at the book 3, Before Ruggie could react, he was lifted into the air, since [Name], in the heat of the moment, had used her long magical hair to hold him back. But, lost in the conversation, she simply forgot he was there. Ruggie was shaking his head, huffing. "Hey, uh… princess? I'm still here…" you continued talking to Azul, completely distracted. Then, without realizing it, you let your hair down.

Azul arched an eyebrow as Jade and Floyd watched with amusement. You covered your mouth, looking at Ruggie lying on the ground. "Oops..."

Ruggie groaned, not having the strength to curse.

Ruggie would sit with you at Savanaclaw, after seeing you upset with yourself for losing your dorm and being naive, and there he talks a little about his poor background, making you laugh a little with his statements and good mood, only to make you laugh again at the end when he tells you not to tell anyone, after all, "that would ruin his reputation."

Ruggie was no stranger to injuries. He was always getting into sticky situations, and when you saw some scrapes and bruises after a confrontation, your first instinct was: “Stay still.” Before he could question it, your hair wrapped around the wounds.

After everything they had been through in Book 3, Ruggie was tasked with taking you back to your dorm. Normally, he would have balked at doing something that didn’t directly benefit him, but for some reason, he accepted without hesitation. On the way, you talked about everything you had learned and how you felt. Ruggie listened, more attentively than he would like to admit. When you arrived, you smiled at him. His heart gave a strange leap.

"...Tsk. I hope you know I don't do anything for free, princess."

Perfect Flynn Rider #2. More than Ruggie, even.

The first time they met, he had ignored her. He was more focused on convincing the 'elite' of Night Raven College to accept his invitation and come to Playful Land.

When [Name] arrived at Playful Land, he finally noticed her. Her long, shiny hair adorned with flowers, her delicate face, and curious eyes. A naive, impressionable girl dazzled by the new world around her? The easiest prey he'd had in years... until she wasn't.

Pascal, her pet chameleon, hated Fellow Honest at first sight and immediately tried to attack him, slapping his face with its curled tail.

When the deception was revealed, Fellow's plan, she wasted no time. One clean strike with the frying pan. With the skill of her magical hair, she quickly tied Fellow and Gidel up, leaving them no chance of escape.

When Fellow woke up, he found himself trapped in [Name]'s hair, who was staring down at him with a steady gaze. “Very well, Fellow Honest…” she said slowly, her eyes narrowed. “I need to find my friends, and so I’ve decided to trust… you.” Fellow blinked in disbelief. “A horrible decision, really” he replied.

Fellow even tries to escape a few times, but every time he tries, she tightens her grip on her hair. Gidel remains silent and worries about Fellow, but he can't deny that it's a little funny to see him trying to escape before being dragged back to [Name].

During the scuffle to save the boys, Fellow had gotten himself badly hurt. He just agreed to guide [Name] to where they were and didn't want to get involved, but his plans didn't go as planned. He didn't even realize how bad it was until [Name] grabbed him and wrapped her magical hair around his body. And then... he was unharmed. Fellow looked down at himself, horrified. "Since when do you do THAT?" He asked. She blinked, and laughs awkwardly. "I guess... since forever?" He looked at her even more in disbelief. "And no one thought it was important to tell me?!" He was completely baffled. Healing magic like this was rare. How could a girl lost in the middle of nowhere have such an ability?

During this whole situation I can imagine several iconic scenes. Like: "Sorry, boys. I don't sing." / "I could get used to a view like this..." / "The only thing I want to do with your hair is to get out of it!… literally!" / "I know not who you are, or how I came to find you, but may I just say… hi. How ya doin'?" / "Stay calm. It can probaly smell fear."

Even, the NRC students chose not to report him. She just said, “If you get arrested, what will happen to Gidel?” and he felt his stomach turn in a strange way.

Fellow Honest had never been someone easy to impress, much less change. But something about you disconcerted him. Not only did you not treat him with disdain even after discovering his terrible intentions, you also seemed to understand something about him that even he himself did not. When he was around you, he felt as if he knew where he was going. And at last he see the light.

"Did I ever tell you, I have got a thing for your hair color?"

[iminyourwallsbabe]

I have more Meljayvik thoughts

Okay first and foremost, Jayce takes care of both Viktor and Mel. Idk where this idea came from that he doesn't but *insert loud incorrect buzzer*

Like we're talking about a guy who basically screwed over all of humanity so his gay situationship could live a little longer. The same guy who, as a child, tried to shield his mother from the freezing fucking cold. Come on now.

Let me break down just how dedicated I think he is to this

So when it comes to Mel, she's a busy woman, girlbossing takes a lot of energy out of her. Sometimes, she'll fall asleep without wrapping her hair up. No scarves, no bonnets, nothing. So he went out of his way to not only buy her satin sheets to counteract it, but he will deadass go in and put the bonnet her himself. Does he always manage to do this without waking her up? No, but she appreciates the effort. And in that same vein, he also learned how to do her hair so she wouldn't have to keep doing it herself. If she wants ankle length 613 goddess braids he will sit there for the hours it'll take to do that I'm so serious. She'd never ask for that but again, it's the thought that counts.

And ALSO. When her social battery runs out at the end of the day, nobody's allowed to speak to her unless she wants them to. "Councilor Medarda-" NO. SHUT UP. SHE DOESN'T WANNA HEAR IT. SAVE IT FOR TOMORROW. GO AWAY. He will simply not allow it. Shit, he won't even talk if she doesn't want him to (usually she likes to hear him speak though, it's comforting).

Then there's Viktor, who requires a hell of a lot more maintenance even though he can handle most of it himself. Bro will forget to eat, sleep, drink, he'd forget to breathe if that was something he could stop doing for a long period of time without dying. Jayce will come in every now and then and give him at least a snack or something. Or, he'll just drag him out of the lab and forcibly take care of him. What's he gonna do? Stop him? Bffr. Get loved, bitch. He'll take his cane if he has to. And if he happens to fall asleep in the lab, he'll take him to bed or put a blanket over him at least. He knows how the cold makes his pain worse and would rather him be warm. That being said, his room is heated and stops at a specific temperature. Viktor was actually very impressed when he realized he did that and wondered why he never thought of it.

Anyway long story short he loves them and I can confirm that all of this is canon because the creator of Arcane, Mr. John Arcane himself, came to my house to tell me

[xxaraaq]

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙄𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

Synopsis | During a training session, The slayers accidentally meet Sanemi's wife and child

wc | 0.5k

cw | none

Sanemi x black! Reader

A/N | The idea just came to me and I wanted to write it down, so I did. I hope you enjoy!

The shock everyone faced at the sight of you was priceless. If you were a stranger passing by, you would think they had seen a ghost pop out from the shadows from the way their faces contorted from exhaustion to pure shock.

It was midday, the harsh sun beaming down on everyone as they lunged at Sanemi in futile attempts to even graze him. It was impossible of course; but they didn’t have a choice, so they practically threw themselves at him, only to be knocked back like they were nothing more than troublesome flies.

Sanemi was the first one to hear your son's footsteps. He freezes, turning to face the loud stomps of your two year old. He runs to his father, tripping over his feet and stumbling to the ground and getting back up as if nothing happened. Not a second later he hears your labored breaths as you try to catch up.

His eyes soften the slightest bit as he walks towards the two of you. He doesn't waste a second before scooping Genji up and walking over to you. He hears the hushed whispers of the trainees behind him, disregarding it as he closes the distance.

“I’m sorry, I was in the middle of stitching up my kimonos and he just took off.” You start, hand coming over to rub your swole belly. “I couldn’t catch him in time, I promise I didn’t mean to interrupt your training session.” You huff, out of breath. 

He smiles, amused as you look worriedly. “They’re staring at me like I’m a witch.” You whisper, shrinking under their curious gaze. “Them? They’re not important, ignore the little shits.” He says, keeping your sons wandering hands from tugging at his hair.

“Well,” You smile, hand pressing affectionately against his chest. “I think it’s time for them to take a break. They all look dehydrated and it’s a good time to eat lunch.” You say, taking your

son in your arms as he babbles about nothing.

Sanemi sighs, thinking carefully about your words. He doesn’t want to let them go early, they’ve been pissing him off more than usual today; but he did want to spend time with his family. He groans deeply, turning back to the trainees with an unamused look adorning his face. “Get out of my sight, and make sure you thank my wife; she’s the reason you get an early lunch.” 

They scurry off almost immediately, shouting words of thanks and gratitude as they sprint out of the wind hashiras sight. “Now, where were we?” he asks, pulling the bow holding your braid together out of Genji’s mouth. “I was saying sorry for being so pregnant that I can’t keep up with our two year old.” You laugh, walking over to a rock to sit down.

The thought of the corps soon finding out about him having a wife and soon to be two kids lingers in the back of his mind. All that matters is this private little moment. 

All that matters is his family.

-Nene

[sanaexus]

social's as bachira's girlfriend

-liked by kuniisuke, chigi.who and 117.4k others

yourusername: i caught the l-o-v-e

tagged: megubachi

isaichii: yeah and i caught the f-l-u ↳yourusername: don't be so dramatic

isaichii: PHOTO CREDITS WOULD BE NICE SINCE I WENT OUT 2 IN THE NIGHT TO TAKE THIS STUPID PICTURE ↳mikka.kaiser: it's actually 2 in the morning ↳isaichii: shut 😭the😭actual😭fuck😭up😭 ↳yourusername: mb bro

yourusername: the photographer (and part time bachira lover) behind this amazing beautiful picture was none other than isagi yoichi ↳yourusername: that enough photo credit for you? ↳isaichii: yes also tfym part time bachira lover that's weird ↳megubachi: loving me is weird? ☹ ↳isaichii: nO NO NO WDYM OFC NOT I'M A FULL TIME BACHIRA LOVER ↳megubachi: I LOVE YOU TOO ↳yourusername: sigh

megubachi: we're so cute ↳yourusername: you're so cute ↳megubachi: you got me giggling blushing kicking my feet curling my toes twirling my hair 😝 ↳hiyori: what the actual

reo.miikage: did this mf fr take a wine glass outside to take this picture ↳megubachi: I DIDN'T MEAN TO ↳reo.miikage: how do you accidently take a wine glass outside ↳yourusername: he's js a girl 🎀🎀 ↳reo.miikage: why did i even ask

-liked by kunii.suke, chigi.who and 132.6k others

yourusername: meet my boyfriend and my boyfriend's boyfriend

tagged: megubachi, isaichii

isaichii: we're js two bros tfym boyfriend? ↳megubachi: not what u said last night 💔🤬😢 ↳isaichii: sorry baby

karasu_tabito: biggest surprise in this post that you went to the gym w those two ↳yourusername: BYE UR SO RUDE I HOPE U KNOW EITA LIKES ME BETTER ↳karasu_tabito: @/eita.otoya is this true 💔💔 ↳eita.otoya: i'm sorry i didn't want you to find out this way 💔💔 ↳karasu_tabito: wow 💔💔 ↳eita.otoya: WAIT I JS READ HIS COMMENT NO WAIT FR DID Y/N GO TO THE GYM?? ↳yourusername: bye i hate you

nikkoki: who the fuck took the second pic 💀 ↳yourusername: that wasn't me i swear it was @/chigi.who ↳chigi.who: NO BC I WALK INTO FIX MY HAIR AND I SEE THAT WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO ↳hiyori: WELL U SURE AS FUCK WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO TAKE A PICTURE?? ↳julian.loki: you should have joined them ↳yourusername: BEO??

user1: the way loki came, told chigiri he should have join with isagi and bachira while they were pissing and then left without any further explanation is just such a loki thing to do ↳julian.loki: i'm a man of few words

megubachi: i swear ily ↳isaichii: who? ↳yourusername: who? ↳megubachi: YOU OFC UR SUCH A SILLY LIL GOOF BALL

-liked by yourusername, isaichii and 142.6k others

megubachi: believe it or not i do love y/n and isagi doesn't always third wheel us

tagged: yourusername

yourusername: SROP ILYSM I'M GONNA KISS YoU ↳megubachi: do it no balls ↳shiidoryu: she would have balls but you keep kicking them ↳hiyori: FOR FUCKS SAKE MATE YOU DON'T NEED TO DESCRIBE SOCCER LIKE THAT ↳mikka.kaiser: FOR GODS (me i am god) SAKE IT ISN'T SOCCER IT'S FUCKING FOOTBALL ↳yourusername: SHUT THE ACTUAL FUCK UP I GOT A POST ALL TO MYSELF AND YALL HAVE TO RUIN IT

nikkoki: i thought this was a y/n appreciation post what's up the the third picture? ↳yourusername: i'll just have to accpet the fact that isagi will always be there ↳megubachi: ily 🥰 ↳yourusername: ihy 🥰

user2: fuck romeo and juilet i want what these bitches have ↳user3: no bc fr both of them seem so happy despite the questionable moments the pictures were taken

rin.itoshi: that outfit ruined my entire halloween party btw ↳user4: WAIT WHAT RIN THROWING A PART?? ↳yourusername: srop it's been like 9 months since then ↳rin.itoshi: and i'll never move on from him twerking in a maid costume. ↳megubachi: I HAVE A GOOD ASS OK STAFU ↳kuniisuke: w h a t .

nagi.seishiro: so the fourth picture is the reason why he couldn't come over to my house the next day ↳yourusername: sorry not sorry

shiidoryu: when's our sleepover y/n 💔💔 ↳yourusername: OMG COME OVER TODAY !! I'LL BRAID UR HAIR !! ↳megubachi: my monster says no ↳yourusername: tell your monster to fuck off ↳megubachi: he didn't like that ↳yourusername: i'm sorry for the bad and for telling him to frick off

user5: context behind the last picture? ↳yourusername: he tried creeping up on me i got scared shitless so i kicked his lower titties, he fell bc it hurt sm i i fell bc i was laughing so much ↳hiyori: did you js call his balls lower tittes ↳yourusername: yes and? ↳kenyu.yukimiya: SAY THAT SHIT W UR CHEST AND ↳reo.miikage: BE YOUR OWN FUCKING BESTFRIEND ↳megubachi: SAY THAT SHIT W UR CHEST ↳megubachi: that fr hurt, the kids inside my balls didn't like it ↳yourusername: well deserved<3

bye this was so fun to write but i dont rlly feel it was very girlfriend like but it was it is

[bapeach]

We're just friends, right?

This is my first time writing a story so I'm sorry if it's no good 😅. Let me know what you guys think! Find my masterlist here :) Pairing(s): Azzi Fudd x female!reader Word count: 2.3k+ Summary: Y/N is head over heels for her best friend Azzi and doesn't think Azzi likes her back. Turns out she's wrong. ------------

Y/N's POV: I chuckle, hearing Paige and KK mess around on Instagram live on the other side of the room. “Ayo, was that Y/N?” KK says, reading someone’s chat from where she’s sitting on the floor. “Guys, say hi!” Paige says before turning the camera to KK’s bed, where I’m laying between Azzi’s legs. I wave at chat with a grin, hearing Azzi say hi from behind me, where she’s braiding my hair. “Someone said y’all look cute.” KK says before looking over at us, scrunching her face in disgust before looking back at the chat. “Of course we do” I say with a smirk, leaning back a little to look at Azzi, sending her a wink. She laughs softly, shaking her head and pushing my head back to continue with my hair.

“Is Y/N single?” Paige reads out loud before looking at me with a mischievous grin. I'm going to kill her. Paige found out about my crush on Azzi not too long ago and has been teasing me relentlessly ever since. She has tried to convince me to just make my move already, saying that Azzi definitely likes me back but what if she’s wrong? What if Azzi doesn’t like me back and she starts feeling uncomfortable around me? No. I’m not telling her.

I just flip her off and roll my eyes without answering. “Where’s my girl, Nika?” I ask no one in particular. Nika also knows about my crush, but whereas Paige has been a little shit about it, Nika has been my rock. Always there to listen to my rants and support me in any way I need. “I think she said she was just gonna head to our dorm after practice.” Paige mutters. 

“Text her to come over, I can’t deal with you losers without her.” I say before hearing Azzi scoff behind me, as she pulls my hair a little. “What was that?” she says, raising her eyebrow at me. “Not you of course, I was talking about tweedle dee and tweedle dumb over there.” I quickly mutter, my voice growing louder at the end of my sentence. “That’s what I thought” Azzi says, sending me a little grin. I smile back before looking back at Paige and sticking my tongue out as I hear her cough something that sounds a lot like “whipped”.

It’s not long until Nika walks in, smirking while announcing she’s there to “save Y/N and Azzi from the idiots”. I smirk hearing Paige and KK whine about getting bullied. I feel Azzi tap my thigh, letting me know she’s done with my hair. I lean back, letting my head fall into her lap, smiling up at her. It’s ridiculous how beautiful she looks, even when she’s upside down. “Thanks Azz” I mumble, staring at her a little longer than any friend would. “Anytime” she says softly, trailing her finger down my face. I grin a little harder before remembering we’re not alone in the room. 

I get up, walking over to where Nika is sitting with Paige and KK and lean my head on her shoulder. I think if I stayed there, laying in Azzi’s lap a second longer, I would’ve confessed my undying love for her and that wouldn’t end well (Right? Right.). Nika looks at me with sympathy in her eyes, squeezing my leg before turning to the chat and reading a funny comment, trying to distract everyone from my sudden movement. Successfully avoiding looking at Azzi, I completely miss the small frown on her face as I left her side. I miss the small pout on her face as she misses my body heat instantly. Because why would she? We’re just friends (Right? Right.).

I try to keep my energy high but I can’t stop thinking about how much I wish Azzi were mine. How much I wish she wants me the same way I want her. I can’t stop thinking about how her lips would feel against mine. Were they as soft as they looked?

I get up, catching everyone’s attention. “I think imma head out, I’m getting tired.”. “Damn grandma, already?” KK jokes. I flick her ear before giving Paige’s head a tap and leaning out of the way so they can’t hit me back. I give Nika a quick hug and a kiss on the temple before walking over to Azzi. I give her a hug and try not to think about how she smells like home. I kiss her temple, holding my lips against her head a little longer than necessary before pulling back and walking to the door. “Bye losers, bye Niks, bye Azzibaby!” I say, earning a middle finger from KK and Paige while getting a grin and a wave from Nika and a soft smile from Azzi.

Once I reach mine and Nika’s dorm, I make a beeline for my bed, flopping down with a sigh. “C’mon, keep it together you idiot.” I grumble to myself, slapping my hands to my face. Not having KK’s live open on my phone, I don’t even realize that Azzi is barely reacting to the live since I’ve left. 

3rd person:

Azzi barely even hears whatever Paige and KK are arguing about. She barely hears Nika as she’s trying to get both girls to stop fighting. The only thing going through her mind right now is Y/N. Y/N with that annoyingly adorable smirk. Y/N that always makes her laugh, even when she feels like the world is closing in on her. Y/N who always knows what to say and is there for everyone, even when they don’t deserve it. Before she realizes what she’s doing, she’s getting up, making the other girls halt their conversation. “I uh, imma head out too” she says, already thinking about going straight to Y/N’s room. 

After saying her goodbye’s, Azzi walks right over to Y/N’s dorm. Before she knows it, she’s standing in front of the door, knocking and realizing she doesn’t even know what she’s gonna say. She doesn’t get the time to regret her actions though, as Y/N opens the door almost immediately. Azzi’s heart stops for a minute. Of course she’s seen Y/N in just sweats and a sports bra plenty of times before, but Y/N still manages to make her feel breathless every time. 

Y/N's POV:

“Hey… are you okay?” I say with a small frown, seeing Azzi stand in front of my door looking at me with a blank face. “Yeah no yeah, I just-... can we talk?” Azzi stumbles over her words, making me frown a little harder, not being used to her being so nervous. “Of course, come in…” I say softly, stepping aside to let her in. How? How does she look so gorgeous all the time? Even now, being a stumbling nervous mess, it’s like she’s art come to life.

I stare at her a second too long before coughing awkwardly and leading the way to my room. I watch as she sits down and fidgets with her hands. Quickly walking over, I sit next to her and grab her hand, softly squeezing it. I try to shake off the thoughts about how soft her hands feel and how perfect they fit in mine. I need to focus. I look down into her eyes, waiting for her to say whatever she needs to say. I can feel my heart pound a little harder. What if she knows? What if she knows I like her and hates me?

“You know how sometimes we jokingly flirt and how fans ship us?” she started, looking right back at me. I freeze for a second. “I- what?” I mutter. She knows. She knows. FUCK SHE KNOWS. This is bad. This is so bad.

“Do you think it’s weird? How they always make edits of us and stuff? I mean, they don’t understand that the flirting is just a joke… right?” she looks away for a second before looking back at me.

A joke. A joke. A joke. God I knew the flirting wasn’t real so why does it still hurt so much to hear her say that? I clench my jaw, “Right…”. I look away, I can’t bear to look her in the eyes, knowing she’ll see right through me. She knows me well enough to know what I’m thinking by just one glance. If I look at her now, she’ll see the pain in my eyes and that can’t happen. Because she doesn’t like me (Right.). I take my hand out of hers and scratch my neck. I can’t stand touching her right now. 

“Y/N? Look at me.” I hear Azzi say but I can’t. I can’t. I can’t, okay? NO! Stop! She’s your best friend Y/N, you knew this would happen from the start. LOOK AT HER! I look at her, forcing a smile on my face. Don’t let her know this is hurting you, she doesn’t deserve that.

She frowns, looking at me with a look in her eyes. A look I can’t decipher. “You’re upset with me… aren’t you?” she mumbles, her lips forming a small pout. “No, of course not, why would I be upset with you Azzi? We’re just friends, nothing more.” I say, gritting my teeth, trying not to break my jaw with how hard I'm clenching it. But I messed up. I know it. And so does she. 

Azzi’s eyes show that she’s hurt before the words are even properly out of my mouth. I said her name. I said her name, not Azz, not Azzibaby, not princess or one of the 50 other nicknames I have for her. I said her name and now she knows for certain that I’m upset. And god I wish I could take it all back because seeing her look up at me with that look in her eyes. The look I caused? That hurts more than knowing she’ll never like me back. Because at the end of the day, she’s my best friend and I NEVER want to cause her pain. 

3rd person:

Azzi’s heart ached but Y/N being upset must mean something right? A normal friend wouldn’t be upset over being called a friend. A normal friend wouldn’t look at her the way Y/N does. Normal friends wouldn’t cuddle, laying face to face, talking about their hopes and dreams, the same soft way they do. So that MUST mean Y/N likes her back, right…?

“You’re lying” Azzi said, trying to catch Y/N’s eye again as the girl tries to look anywhere but at her. Y/N gets up, needing some distance between her and Azzi before she blurts out everything she’s been dying to tell her. “It’s getting late, we’ll talk later okay?” she says, looking at the ground while crossing her arms, trying to find some comfort in her own arms, knowing she’d rather have Azzi’s around her. Azzi stands up too, her frustrations rising. Frustrations at Y/N for not just confessing but also frustrations at herself, for not having had enough courage to just do it herself.

Y/N's POV:

“No.” Azzi declares. I look back up, feeling a little surprised at her bluntness. “No, you’re going to tell me the truth.” she says sternly, stepping closer to me. “What truth?” I squint at her. Don’t say anything! She doesn’t like you back (Right? Right.). Not letting off, Azzi stepped closer, “Don’t act dumb. Tell me the truth. Tell me how you feel about me.”. “Tell the truth? How about YOU tell ME the truth.” I say, stepping closer, my body tense. Please. Please. I’m begging. Let this mean what I think it does.

“You already know the truth.” Azzi says, looking right back at me, stepping even closer until we’re so close I can feel her body heat radiating off of her. “Do I?” I challenge her, refusing to let myself believe that maybe Azzi Fudd, the people’s princess, likes me back.

Growing tired Azzi steps forward, taking a deep breathe before softly saying, “If I were to tell you I liked you… what would you do?”. I freeze for a moment, not believing my ears. When I look her in the eyes I see the same soft look she seems to always have reserved just for me. I soften, my shoulder sagging down as I look at her with some sort of desperation in my eyes. I need her to be telling me the truth, i couldn't handle it if she didn't mean it. "Azzi please" I beg quietly. I'm not even sure what I'm begging for but she does, because she knows me better than anyone.

She takes one final step closer to me, grabbing my hand with a smile that could light up the world. “I like you… so much, it’s actually pretty insane” she starts, chuckling towards the end of her sentence. I scan her face for a second before grabbing her face in both hands and leaning in slightly, giving her the chance to still pull away. 

Azzi’s heart flutters from how gentle Y/N is with her. Leaning in the rest of the way, Azzi kisses me with a small smile on her face. I kiss her. I kiss her and it's like the world stops. I can't believe it, I'm kissing the girl of my dreams. The girl that is the kindest, sweetest soul. The people's princess. My best friend. My Azzi.

We pull away after a few seconds but I don’t let her get very far, face still cupped between my hands. She smiles her million dollar smile and teases, “So… this means you like me back right?”. I roll my eyes but I can’t seem to hold back the smile that’s growing on my face. “Shuddup” I mumble, pulling her back in. She likes me back? (Right.)

[eightstarr]

visions — abby anderson.

summary: a love letter to trying (or the time when you met your favorite people in the world, an overly stressed med student and her overly adventurous one-year-old, in your apartment's hallway).

notes: constantly suffering from chronic baby fever so this is a present from me to you because i spend way too much time thinking about abby as a mom <3

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・。.・゜✧・. ────

You’re stepping out of the elevator when you suddenly hear it— a series of light thumps on the floor, fast but determined like a tiny little elephant who really has somewhere to be right now. Another step and then you stop clumsily when a flash of golden hair comes rushing past you. You follow the sight with your eyes, tilting your head. A little girl is walking, no, stomping through the hallway. She’s no older than two years old, her thin shining hair in two short braids, blue jean overalls and red socks on her feet. She moves so confidently that you almost don’t think about it, almost have the instinct to look away as if to not accidentally appear nosy, but her tiny stature and wobbly sense of direction keep your attention.

You look around the hallway, expecting surely the sound of the little girl’s parent calling her name (something sweet and pretty and classic, you imagine; it’d suit her). You picture her name being followed by a tired sigh before her patents rush to catch up, maybe rolling their eyes in a way that pretends to be annoyed but unmistakingly holds a million times more affection. A perfect family, a tiny glimpse of a full life somehow existing right in your unimportant building.

The hallway is long and terribly empty. You look back at the little girl who is striding forward in less of a rush now, with no worries, like this is the same route she’s taken for years.

What are you supposed to say to get a kid’s attention when you don’t know their name? What’s something concise, yet nice, yet simple enough to be understood? Babysitting as a teen has prepared you for a lot, just maybe not all of it. It's been a little too long. You linger on it for just a second before spitting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Hi, princess,” It’s a little awkward, but you’re relieved when she immediately stops and spins around, like something about it sounded familiar— could be your sweet tone or the nickname, you’re not sure. The little girl tilts her head to the side, round cheek lightly squished against her shoulder. It's the cutest thing you’ve ever seen and it makes you giggle like a charmed kid. “Where did you come from?” you ask, but before you have the chance to reach her she pouts her lips, as if just now realizing that you’re not who she thought you were. And then she turns her back, like there's no time to waste, to return to her journey with renewed enthusiasm.

In a scarily fast moment, you realize that she’s going for the stairs. It would maybe be a slightly less terrifying idea if that stupid door actually worked— but it doesn't, it broke sometime last May and now it's awfully easy to open, no strength or shove required. Sometimes, if it's windy and quiet enough, you can faintly hear it swing back and forth from your apartment. The little girl reaches a hand out, not intimidated by the tall door more than three times her height. If you weren’t this terrified, you’d find it amazingly admirable. 

You don’t register you’re running until you reach her, don’t register the sound of fast steps behind you or the scream of Rue! or anything else other than the heavy relief on your chest when you lift the baby by her armpits and hold her over your hip against your side. She’s fussing in your arms immediately, upset that she’s being interrupted, especially by a stranger. “I know, I’m sorry, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay,” you coo, though trying to be soothing when your heart is beating this fast is admittedly not the easiest task.

“Rue!” Someone repeats, and this time you do hear it. A woman is running down the hallway, hand coming down to mindlessly drop a tote bag bursting with groceries on the floor by the time she’s in front of you. The little girl reaches out her arms immediately, tiny fists opening and closing furiously and you sigh with relief as you carefully pass her over to the arms of the tall stranger. Her hair is blonde but darker than Rue’s, held back in a braid that looks both pretty and messy, like it was once pristine and then slept on. She’s wearing jeans and a half unbuttoned white shirt, a black tank top underneath. Her chest rises and falls and you notice that yours is no different. Adrenaline is a strange bond to share with a stranger, but it does make things less awkward, knowing you’re both here, feeling the same thing. You meet her expertly focused eyes for just a second before she turns to look at the little girl, searching for anything that could be wrong. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl. You’re okay, right? You’re okay,” the baby flashes a precious, wobbly smile at the sound of her voice, but she’s quickly distracted by the endlessly fascinating rainbow of groceries that lie on the floor. Her tiny head peeks over her mom’s shoulder to observe and it’s like you both can take a more soothing breath now, knowing she’s okay. “Thank you so much,” Abby says. You blink a couple times before you realize that she’s talking to you. “Sorry, I really don’t know how that happened. We were— we just got home from the store and I hadn't even put down all the bags yet and I thought— I was convinced that I shut the door, but…” her rambling drifts off and the stranger takes another breath, reddish embarrassment crawling up her neck.

You understand, suddenly, that she’s not only struggling with the stress of losing and finding her baby, but also the shame of having to face a stranger who might judge her for it. It feels insane to you, to think that she would be forced to prioritize that right now. “Oh, no, it’s okay!” you rush to respond. “I saw her immediately, and you were here in seconds! She wouldn't have gotten any further than that,” your smile is soft, but you speak with enough confidence to be reassuring (babysitting lessons, perhaps), “It was just a scare— don’t be too hard on yourself, please.”

Abby looks disarmed by your answer, her eyebrows raised in surprise. A short moment passes before she nods and smiles back, a small gesture without any less warmth. It’s the most relaxed you’ve seen her so far and it suits her beautifully, enough to make your face feel warm. Her blushing is much less forgiving though, more physically evident on her skin, spread over her cheekbones and the bridge of her pretty nose.

Rue giggles and it distracts you both, her hand waving excitedly at the colorful bird printed on a box of cereal as soon as she spots him. Abby looks at you for a second too long before she clears her throat, joking, “Sorry, she really loves that guy.”

You hum. “He is pretty cool, to be fair.”

Abby tilts her head, copying your sincere tone. “I don’t know, I always thought he’d be kind of a dick in person. He just looks like the type.”

Your startled laugh makes her smirk but she's frustratingly good at hiding it, free hand covering her mouth casually enough that you don’t notice. You look at the grabbing motion of the baby’s hands and pout with sympathy. “She loves him, though. We should probably get him off the floor.”

“Yeah, I should get that— I guess I just ran out with the bag, huh?” Abby huffs. She looks and sounds, physically, a lot less anxious now, less ashamed and more annoyed at herself.

“Would you like some help?”

“That’s okay, I got it,” she’s not sure that she does but she says it anyway, instinctively. Abby tries to lean down and Rue clutches her shirt, pulling enough to communicate that she is not ready to be put down yet. Abby straightens her back quickly enough to communicate that she is not ready to risk getting her any more upset for today. She meets your eyes for just a second. “Well, maybe some help.”

“Sure, just some,” you chuckle. “I’ll get it, don’t worry about it.”

People say that to Abby a lot— don’t worry about it! She hears it from her colleagues when she inevitably asks for the notes from the last class she ran a little late to, from a few of her kinder professors when she’s a day past some assignment’s deadline, from the guy at the grocery store that picks up the packets of M&M bags from the floor when Rue’s curious hands knock them over, from her dad when she asks if he’d be okay with babysitting for just a tiny bit longer. It always makes her stomach turn with guilt, some cases more intense than others, her lips usually pursed as she turns around and takes a breath. This time when you say it, she finds the guilt passing through her with ease, a short visit that makes her shoulders tense before it gets replaced by something else. She believes you, for some reason. Her brain is quiet except for thinking, for once, that there could really be nothing to worry about.

Your hands move casually as you pick everything up, resting on your knees like it’s not uncomfortable, like they might as well be your groceries. The idea is startling. Abby thinks, suddenly, that if someone were to walk into this scene, they wouldn’t read you as a kind stranger. Your ease would hint to something else, a friend, a lover, a picture of a family. Abby finds herself looking at your hands again, brought back to reality only by the slight tug of her hair. Rue plays with her braid distractedly, mumbling to herself about her froot loops friend— except she hasn’t quite learned to pronounce it yet, so it sounds more like oot oops.

Abby chuckles, brushing some of her loose baby hair behind her ears, mumbling back answers to her gibberish to keep her entertained even if Rue doesn’t seem to need it. She’s always endlessly thrilled to just be outside, perhaps the one trait she got from her grandpa rather than her mom. Other than her light snoring.

“She loves you a lot,” you comment, rising from your knees with the bag hanging on your shoulder. You don’t ask and Abby doesn’t think about it—  you just start walking back to her apartment together. “Don’t you, Ru-Ru?” the baby giggles, her head turning to you, blue eyes sparkling. You laugh, “Oh, you like that name. It suits you, Ru-Ru.”

“That’s what my dad calls her,” Abby explains.

“He sounds like a man with taste,” you say. “What do you call her?”

“Princess.”

Your smile is wide and pleased. “That suits her even more, I fear.”

“I think so, too,” Abby agrees, a proud little glimmer in her eyes. She stops in front of her door, B06 engraved in silver. Is it always such a short walk from the elevator? She’s seriously thinking about it until, after realizing in an embarrassing second that she never introduced herself to the person kind enough to chase after her baby, help pick up her groceries and carry them home, Abby suddenly turns to you with widened blue eyes and pretty, reddened cheeks. You forgive her before she even says anything, and forget your traitorous reason before it gets a chance to warn you about how dangerous that thought is. “God, sorry, I never told you my name. I’m—”

“Abby, right?” you smile softly at her surprised face, chuckling before you explain, “One of our neighbors is an old friend of mine and she kinda threw this welcome party for me when I moved in. I promise we weren’t gossiping, but I think someone mentioned you.”

“Oh,” Abby nods casually, brushing it off as if she won’t be spending all night thinking about what your first impression of her might’ve been like. Rue fusses in her arms, a little grunt as she kicks her legs to be put down. “Sorry— I‘ll be right back,” Abby shares a quick look with you and you wave goodbye, not surprised to be missing Rue as soon as she turns around. You watch them walk inside together, a tiny hand waving back at you and making you smile as she excitedly makes her way to her playpen, shrieking bye-bye! Abby places a kiss on top of Rue’s blonde hair and makes her laugh with some noise that you don’t quite catch. She’s comfortable here, walking amongst colorful toys and biology books. She moves like an expert, pulling down her shirt where it rode up somewhere along the way. You make half an effort not to stare, but it’s half more than the effort Abby makes to not let it get to her head. The most confident she’s felt so far, she asks you, “Did that totally innocent welcome party of yours happen, like, two weeks ago? I think I heard some music.”

“It was extremely innocent,” you insist, eyebrows raised teasingly, “And no, sorry, not sure what that was— I moved here like a year ago.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You grace her (or yourself) with a second of silence before you laugh at her awkward expression, the way she brushes a hand over her flushed face and huffs. “Fuck, that’s embarrassing. I’m kinda terrible at keeping up with this type of, uh, social stuff.”

“It’s not embarrassing, I promise. It’s a big world,” you reassure her. “Even bigger when you’re doing a million other stuff.”

You tell her your name and Abby, who is young like you but also highly knowledgeable on little specific human interaction cheat-codes that come with being a mom, nods her head and makes her eyes light up with what seems, to the naive eye, like recognition. “Oh, that’s right!”

You stare for a second before squinting your eyes. “Are you lying to me, Abby from B06?”

Abby grins, wondering when was the last time she found being caught this funny. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve never heard that name in my life.”

You laugh the loudest you have so far and a daydreamed life flashes in Abby’s head— in that big, dramatic way that it does only when you’ve been watching too many rom-coms every night, or when you’re getting too much dating advice from your friend who’s been married since eighteen, or maybe when you fall in love with a pretty stranger who seems to be able to read your mind. It’s an idealized vision of an idealized world, and Abby finds herself being completely okay to clutch it in her fists to keep, because it’s fucking lovely.

“Well, I forgive you,” you tell her, unaware (maybe?) of the chaos that you’ve induced inside of her. “You’re a busy girl.”

Abby tries to think of a good, smooth way to tell you that she could see herself saying your name everyday, placed adoringly after good morning and I miss you. All she comes up with is, “I got enough time to learn it.”

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

You play with the hem of your shirt, pajamas made of mostly Abby’s clothes every night, a scent on them that’s not yours but it might as well be. It’s yours in all the ways that matter, in the same sense that she is. Abby walks out of the bathroom wearing her usual pajamas— a shirt that fits too loose and boxers that are a little too tight around her thighs. She doesn't seem to mind them, and you don’t seem to wanna complain. She knows by the way you look at her. You’re leaning back on your palms, your head tilted, the same shyness and sparkly adoration in your eyes that you’d get when you didn't know each other all that well. It’s not too often that she sees that nervousness anymore, but she still gets glimpses of it, a blink of something on your face or your tone or your breathing that says I have a crush on you and I’m hoping you can’t tell. She likes that nervousness the best right now, the way it’s timid and then settles into something like cockiness when you remember that she’s looking at you just the same, when you remember how much you like the way she copies the tilt of your head and teases you as if she's not also smiling like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.

Abby loves every moment like this, loves getting home and helping prepare dinner and making Rue laugh before kissing her goodnight, loves doing the dishes with you and flirting and talking about the day. Today, she’s especially looking forward to the latter.

“So, how was it?” she asks, the back of her thighs resting against the dresser. She’s trying to play it cool and she's annoyingly good at it, even now.

“Hm?” you hum, leaning further back to rest on your elbows, your back almost fully touching the bed. Abby feels a little bad keeping you up, but she knows she’ll be tossing and turning all night if she has to wait until the morning to ask.

“The school meeting.”

“Oh,” you smile wide enough to look silly and beautiful, sweet enough to rot teeth. She feels like she could sink in it, your smile and the relief it brings to her well hidden nervousness. “I loved it so much, Abs.”

Abby is smooth when she walks closer, soft when she cups your cheek, but there's something anxious in her eyes if you know where to look. “Yeah?” she insists.

You nod your head and kiss the palm of her hand, your lips pressed together in that funny way of trying to hold back an excited giggle. Abby smiles and feels nostalgic for the time, many many months ago, when she’d bring a finger to her lips to shush you and then remind you in an expert whisper that Rue is sleeping in the other room. She doesn't have to teach you much at all anymore, and every moment that proves that to her feels like the most beautiful, unfamiliar peace.

“I’m so happy,” you announce, looking up at her. You’re tired enough that it feels almost like being drunk, which is maybe why a short giggle manages to escape. Abby finds it contagious, your joy moves through her as naturally and importantly as the pumping of her blood. “I’m so excited for all of it.”

It’s the second parents' meeting that you’ve attended at Rue’s school— but you spent that first one sitting quietly by her side, practically hiding behind her, too aware of yourself and of the fact that you don’t really know what you’re doing. “Nobody knows,” Abby confessed on your way home, a hand on the steering wheel and another over your leg, her fingers tapping a comforting rhythm. “Parenting is beautiful, it just comes a lot less naturally than you’d think. That thing about a biological, primal wisdom or whatever— it’s a nice concept. But the best things I know came from me actively trying.”

Her words echoed in your head when you said yes to attending this school meeting alone, when you smiled and made the effort to look as calm as you could, kissed her cheek and said “of course!”. Being Rue’s parent doesn’t always come naturally, but it comes from the most genuine love, every single time. Of course you can go to her meeting when Abby can’t reschedule work, because of course you want to know about how Rue is doing in school. It’s an honor to be there for her, to speak for her when you know she needs you to. This is you actively trying.

“How were the other parents?” Abby asks, lying on her side now, her finger tracing unreadable patterns on your cheek. She craves physical contact more than she’d like to admit— but it works great, because you never ask her to admit it if she doesn't want to. The pads of her fingers say enough.

“They were cool, they were all very sweet to me. Well, Leo’s mom is a little passive aggressive but she’s that way with everyone,” you comment through a yawn, the side of your face comfortably pressed against your pillow. Abby hums, agreeing. “Sophie’s mom was the nicest, she sat next to me and invited me to join her and Jade’s mom for brunch.”

“Which Sophie?”

“The one that gave Rue a Valentine’s gift, that milk chocolate that she loves.”

“Oh, I like that Sophie.”

“Me too. I think I wouldn't mind joining a weekly brunch cult with her mom.”

Abby laughs in the way that she only does when she’s sleepy, where she sounds almost like her teenage self, shy and sweet. By the time it dies down, you’re almost asleep. But then, softly enough that you almost don’t hear it, she asks, “How do you think you would feel if she called you that?”

You make a questioning little sound that sounds like "what?" but not quite.

“If Rue called you mom.”

Your eyes open in a second, though not without effort. You look at Abby’s face, her pretty, relaxed features, and answer honestly. “I would probably cry. And then kiss her cheeks for as long as she let me.”

Abby chuckles. “Like when she fell off the swing and got the tiniest scratch on her knee?”

“Yeah, just— the joyful version of that, I guess. They would be the happiest tears ever spilled,” you explain, so sincere that Abby almost tells you. And you know her enough to read it on her face, the way she barely parted her lips and then pressed them back together quickly. Your head lifts from the pillow. “Wait, why? She told you something? Did she ask about that?”

Abby is great at keeping it cool, but less so once she’s been caught. Her nervous chuckle says it all. “I…”

“Abby, I swear to god, I will not let you sleep until you tell me.”

She more than believes you, but a flash memory of her pinky finger wrapped around Rue’s holds her back from spilling any more details. “Sorry, baby, I’m not allowed to say.”

“Oh my god,” you drop back onto your pillow, this time lying flat on your back. “You think she’s gonna say it?” you ask, and Abby is unsure if you’re asking her or the ceiling or a godly presence way above it. Or yourself, most likely. “It’s okay if she doesn't, maybe she was just curious. Maybe she needs time. I mean, obviously. She probably won’t say it, like, tomorrow, right?” you turn your head and look at her, so wrapped up in your inner monologue that you don’t process the amusement and adoration that’s all over your girlfriend’s face. “What if I react super weird and she doesn't say it again?”

Abby’s lips stretch into the softest smile, so in love that she almost forgets to answer and instead holds her hand on the back of your neck and pulls you close to press a kiss against your forehead. Your eyebrows are still furrowed worriedly when she pulls away, and she brushes her thumb over your cheek as she lets out the kindest hum, acknowledging your question. “You’re not gonna react weird, sweetheart.”

Momentarily flustered, you shake your head to remember the point that you’d been thinking about. “But I shouldn't cry, imagine how confusing that would be for her— what if she thinks she made me upset?”

“That won’t happen. She cried happy tears when you moved in, remember? She knows what they are,” she says. It’s one of the best memories you have, the nervous look on Abby’s face when she asked you, rambling, “It would be a big change, but not the worst, right? You’d just be a couple doors down the hall. It would be a lot of the same in a lot of ways, just with us.”

After that came the late nights at your apartment, dates hidden behind the excuse of packing, half empty boxes on the floor and Abby stuck to you like glue, a kiss or ten whenever she got too carried away with excitement. A couple weeks later came your clothes in her closet, your favorite blanket on the couch, and Rue’s eyes glimmering with happy tears as she hid her face on your neck and tried to understand her feelings. Then, after a few minutes of patiently rubbing her back, came her little frown of concentration and the way she attentively listened to you and Abby explain that her reaction was normal, that sometimes happiness feels like too much to hold in just a laugh or a dance. “Oh, okay,” she’d said, in this cute proud tone that she gets whenever she learns something new that makes sense to her. It was the sweetest thing. She’s the sweetest thing— and you can’t believe this is your life, that you get to take care of her and hang out and teach her new things to be proud of.

“You think she wants me to be her mom?”

Abby smiles. “You are her mom, baby.”

Rue doesn't say it the next day. You don’t overthink it— couldn't if you tried. It's a nice feeling to be so happy that you don't feel the need to think. She doesn't call you mom that morning, but she runs to the doorway where you’re putting on your shoes to get to work and wraps her arms so tight around your legs that you have to balance yourself with a hand against the wall. Her hair is messy from sleep, her yellow pajama shirt wrinkled, her eyes blinking lazily as she looks up at you and asks, “Back soon?”

“Soon as I can, princess,” you promise, leaning down to kiss her head. What is there to overthink? What more could you possibly need?

You can do this forever, have mornings like this and feel grateful in a way that you didn't know existed until now. You love the way it comes at random times, the way you’re still you, still grumpy when your coffee tastes watery, still a little bad at getting to the train station on time, still learning not to burn the first batch of pancakes. It’s a big change, but not the worst, right? It’s a lot of the same in a lot of ways, except Abby is there at the kitchen kissing your cheek, and a tiny head of blonde hair is peeking from the back of the couch, gummy smile and freckled cheeks, saying, “I like my pancakes like that, mom!”