#because my thinning scissors thinned a little too well and then it looked like i had a dent in my hair

[glazedsnail]

EPILOGUE

I might love ShanexFern a little too much. I like broken people.

So here it is, epilogue to Misery Loved Company

It's very fluffy, which I'm not used to, I had to wait until I was 25 to write something where no one dies at the end. Oops spoiler.

For years I've been saying I want my corpse to be thrown somewhere in the woods for the worms to feast and then this guy shows up.

We were meant to be.

The setting summer sun casts a multitude of powerful rays in Fern’s kitchen. All the windows are open, hoping to let through a thin cooling breeze amongst the uninvited bugs. Over her blasting oven, the now well established farmer of Pelican town waits for her peppers to be done. The recipe for pepper poppers she got from her boyfriend was as simple as putting on socks, however she never managed to get them to taste like his. He had teased her about a so-called secret ingredient but she knew it was a lie. His homegrown peppers were maybe of better quality. That would explain why he would refuse to give back the plant of hot pepper he had so brazenly stolen from her property. After several arguments it had been settled that a loving label with his name on it was proof enough of ownership. It would have died without him anyway.

With a content smile, she takes the peppers out of the oven. It all seems so long ago now, when it’s not even been two years. But it can easily feel like an eternity when a relationship starts like theirs.

Now ready, Fern dishes out the peppers in a box she places in her basket, along with a cool pack of sparkling water cans, a bottle of strawberry juice, and a plate of homemade muffin. She laughs, grabbing a muffin and weighing it. None of her baked goods had been eaten but they proved to be amazing projectiles.

Shane invited her for a picnic much like that questionable date. She loves him, dearly. After all their personal hardships, what they’ve been through together, being able to call Shane her partner was a wonderful treat she’d never get tired of.

Fern had given herself some much needed pamper time after her day on the farm. Her small, humble sheepfold was now housing ten healthy sheep whose wool, handspun skein, were sent straight to the city. She was grateful for Shane’s help coming shearing time, and he was always particularly helpful with the chickens, but always refused payment.

In gold that is.

She looks at herself in the mirror one last time. No mud, no holes, no stains, her lavender scented short hair drying in the sun. She’s good to go. A last look at the pressed gerbera Shane had tucked behind her ear at the Flower Dance, preserved and framed next to the door. A sentimental token often mocked by the giver for being “corny as hell”.

Beyond the other side of the farm, at the edge of the forest, the atmosphere at Marnie’s ranch is a lot less peaceful. 

‘Stop fidgeting so much or I’ll cut your ear!’

‘I didn’t need a haircut, why did I let you talk me into this.’

‘Because deep down you know you want to look your best for tonight.’

‘Aunt Fern told me she likes your hair, uncle Shane.’

Shane’s heart jumps. He always tries to look cool and untouched by Jas’ use of “Aunt Fern” but it always brings him some weird fuzzy feelings.

All grouped in the warm kitchen, Marnie over Shane’s wild locks, Shane bouncing and groaning, and Jas entertained by the scene at the other side of the table, wondering why her uncle is as nervous as she’s ever seen him. 

‘Ok I’m done.’ Marnie puts the scissors on the table with a satisfied sigh. ‘Why are you so nervous?’ she asks, removing the fallen hair from his shoulders. ‘You see Fern every day. Sometimes I wonder how she can tolerate you that much.’ She laughs.

‘I saw them kissing behind the barn once, and then they saw me, and uncle Shane was as red as a tomato, aunt Fern too, and’

‘Jas.’

‘Red just like that!’ The little girl giggles, too amused by her uncle’s nervousness. 

‘Jas, give him a break, he’s already so nervous’ Marnie winks.

‘I’m not nervous.’ he grumbles

‘You’re a wreck! Look at my kitchen, you spent the whole day cooking and making us eat. Jas and I won’t eat mushrooms for months after that.’ She pulls out the dirty pots and pans to illustrate. ‘You keep asking me about your appearance, which is a first in Yoba knows how long. You’re bouncing off the walls like nobody’s business, and I don’t know what you’ve got in your pocket but you keep ch…’ Marnie’s eyes widen in surprise and delight, quickly squinted by the giant smile drawing on her face. She squeals, bringing her hands to her lips, her eyes slowly watering. ‘Shane! Oh dear Yoba, this is fantastic!’

Shane groans, looking away.

‘Marnie…’

‘’What’s fantastic?’ Asks Jas who tries to connect the dots clearly spelling something for her very excited aunt.

‘I’ll stop talking, I don’t want to jinx it. Not that there are any risks of that mind you. Oh, Shane!’ She lunges herself onto her blushing nephew.

‘Fuck’s sake…’ He grumbles under his breath.

‘Language! She’ll never say yes if you keep talking like that.’

‘Say yes to what?’ Plead Jas, painfully ignored.

A knock on the door forces them to fall silent. Fern’s here.

‘Jas, shush, let’s go.’ Marnie grabs the child and swiftly scutters away to her bedroom, leaving Shane alone in the now surprisingly vast kitchen. He inhales deeply and stands up to open the door.

The sun is exploding behind Fern as a smile appears on her face the second she sees him at the door.

‘You’re ready to go?’ She asks.

Shane swallows painfully. The smile Fern gives him warms his heart with so much strength he can barely understand what he did to deserve it, or if he deserves it at all.

He nods, smiling back, and gets himself ready to cross the doorway.

‘Ahem.’

‘Hi Marnie, Hi Jas!’ shouts Fern from the door to the barely hidden family.

Marnie has an impossibly wide grin on her face, Jas is still unsure of what is happening but she enjoys the spy game.

‘Are you sure you’ve got everything?’ The mother hen asks from her hiding spot.

‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure?’

Shane signs to her to leave him alone, and gently pushes Fern out to close the door.

‘Are they ok?’ Fern asks in a laugh. ‘Do they want to come with us?’

‘No! Hum, no, I mean, yes they’re fine.’

She laughs again, tucking a strand of his wild hair back.

‘You look great.’ she says, softly caressing his cheek. ‘Are you ok?’

His nervousness will give him away, but he can hardly control what he feels when she touches him, reminding him that for some crazy unexplained reasons she chose to be with him, that they are together.

‘Yeah… It’s nice to see you.’

She smiles, and starts walking in the direction of the forest. In one breath Shane quickly checks his pocket. It’s there. Everything’s fine. Everything will be fine.

‘Did you do all that?’

Between the parting trees giving to the cliff a blanket laid out on the ground welcomes them, scattered with well covered dishes and glasses, softly illuminated by well placed candles and tea lights against the darkening summer’s sky.

Shane blushes, visibly wanting to disappear in his collar. He grabs Fern’s hand and helps her down before sitting next to her.

‘I thought you’d like that.’ he says, slightly embarrassed.

‘This is lovely, Shane.’ She nuzzles into him, truly grateful. ‘I don’t know what I did to deserve you.’ She adds, planting a kiss on his red cheek, forbidding him to say or think anything deprecative about himself. ‘I love you, Shane.’ She whispers, all giddy after all this time to finally be able to say those words.

‘I love you.’ He replies, looking down. ‘So much.’ His hand slowly fingering the mermaid pendant in his pocket. Is now the right time?  When would it be? Should they eat first? And more importantly, what if she says no?

‘Hey’ Fern softly grabs his hand ‘Where are you, miles away from here?’

Shane shakes his head off of all the infuriating scenarios that popped in his mind.

‘I’m a bit nervous.’ He laughs.

‘Tell me about it!’ She joins him in a laugh. ‘Why?’ Her smiling eyes now shadowed by concern.

‘I made your favourite and I’m scared it didn’t turn out well.’

‘I’m certain it’ll be perfect. It already smells amazing!’ She brings the plate of fried mushrooms to her and grabs a fork to have a taste, before bringing the fork to Shane’s mouth. He would rather drop dead than admit it, but he loves when she shares food like this.

Who’s the corny one now.

He shakes his head, actually surprised by the taste.

‘It’s delicious Shane, thank you.’

The sun is but orange light under the valley, and the crickets have started singing. Fern sighs, happy, nestled in her partner’s arms, watching the sun set over the cliff.

‘Do you remember the last time we were here?’ She asks in a grin. To her delight, Shane starts blushing. He does remember. ‘After the Flower Dance, you took my hand and we walked from the clearing to here without realising. She looks in the distance. ‘We talked for hours.’

‘I mainly remember your white dress.’ Shane says, clearing his throat.

‘I did try to clear the sap off it’ She giggles ‘and repair the tears. Kinda wanted to wear it tonight.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be, my love’ she whispers in his ear. ‘I remember that dress fondly, but the memory of how you treated it is far more precious.’

Shane shivers. It’s not her first time calling him “my love” but it always sounds so sweet.

‘You know’ Fern continues after a while. ‘I can’t remember if it was against that tree, or that one.’ She turns to Shane with a malicious smile, thoroughly enjoying her ability to make her rough looking man blush like a high school girl. She slowly nuzzles against his warm, now almost burgundy, neck. Despite all, she feels him tense up.

‘Shane?’

‘Do you remember the…other time we were at the cliff?’

Fern quickly grabs his hand.

‘Yes?’

‘Do you, hem, do you think you deserve this? That I’m worthy of you?’

Her eyebrows furrow on her hazel eyes. She sits down in front of him, on her knees.

‘I love all of you, Shane.’ she starts. ‘I always have. You’re not that one incident. You are much, much, more than what happened to you. Sure it shapes us but, in the end, despite all, you’re you. And I fell in love with you.’

‘Terrible decision making as always.’

‘Shane!’ She pushes him down, pinning him on the blanket. ‘I’m gonna stay there until you love yourself.’

‘We’ll be here a while!’ he laughs, wrapping his arms around her.

‘I have all the time, my whole life even, for you.’

Her soft but certain tone falls on Shane like an anvil. Her whole life for him. He tries to keep a steady breathing while she covers his neck in small kisses, astride his warming body. He tightens his embrace, burying his face in her neck and takes a deep breath. With a kiss on her cheek, he rolls her over, now on top of her.

‘Do you love yourself yet?’ Fern asks in a laugh, trying to sit up. She lets him get on his knees, while he reaches into his pocket.

‘I guess, enough to ask you this.’

[kyurilin]

what if I just dye my hair again tonight

I have no idea what color yet but it's currently a tie between purple, red (for the 90th time), or mix the assortment of pinks/oranges I have for some pizzaz

[sanjisblackasswife]

OP Men Failing No Nut November Headcanons(NSFW)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

Bad Summary: Who last NNN and who doesn’t

Ft. Shanks, Sanji, Zoro

CW: Mentions of Sex, Pussy slapping, Oral, Teasing, Zoro is a complete ass, I may do a part 2

Sanji

He lost before he started

In all honesty he’d probably last…a few days, but that’s because he started touching himself again

You mentioned that you wanted to focus more on your training so you wanted to save your energy for the next month and not have sex

First off he started crying

But you said this because you all were getting into way more close calls than usual with fighting enemies and you wanted to prepare for the worse in case Sanji wasn’t there to save you

He did respect your wishes and so for the next 4 weeks there would be no extreme sexual contact between you both. Sanji even went as far as not jack off to practice self restraint.

After the first week it was painful for him but he managed to distract himself with practicing more recipes and training with you

Second week was a breeze, you both were able to sleep on separate sides of the bed without any issues

Now the third week…was a bit difficult for you both.

You noticed how much stronger Sanji got without having the distraction of sex and it got to you.

A lot.

You didn’t want to go back on your word so you had to do and you went into your shared room with him and you found yourself playing with your clit.

Unfortunately Sanji found you as well.

He’d be a liar if he said he was mentally cheering that you failed instead of how quick you were to cover yourself

“Y/N…. You been cheatinggg??”

“N-No! I—this is my first time I swear!”

He couldn’t even stay mad at you, your legs was spread, cunt was dripping, and he has been fucking his fist for way too long as you slept so you decided to “apologize “ by asking him to join you.

Sanji hovered over your pussy almost immediately

“I wish you would have just told me to at least eat this pussy, sweetheart I miss it…”

“But—-ah—-you were….mmmm doing so good!”

Without missing a beat he reminded you how much you missed his tounge and fingers. Sanji usually ignored his own hard cock for your pleasure but he couldn’t handle the strain anymore

You of course notice this and decide to do a move you never done: sitting on his face while sucking him off

Sanji never came so hard and quickly in his life

That don’t mean he was done though no no no. Sanji has so much stamina to make up for how fast he cums so best believe you both were busy that evening.

you both ended up failing NNN together <3

Shanks

Lmao @ you thinking he is even going to participate.

“No sex?? For a MONTH? The hell did I do—“

“Nothing! I just wanted to challenge us.”

He smirked like ^ and “agreed”

Shanks has been eyeing you the entire day, like a literal Shark watching it prey. For some reason the pure fact that you said “no sex” made him want you even more

You looked even better, your clothes looked sexier, your body looked more curvier and teasing

Shanks wanted you so badly.

He was a good boy and kept his distance though, not even touching you a little when beside you

The day went by completely smoothly until it was time to take a bath.

You were by yourself just about to dip your foot in the tub when you felt his heavy gaze behind you.

“Hey—!”

He insisted to bathe you, he claimed to have “no motive” behind it so he got behind you on the edge of the tub and scrubbed your body

He was such a sly dog grazing his hands through the thin towel over your nipples and just way too close to a certain place when he reached your inner thighs.

“Shanks…”

You moaned out his name, it shocked you both for a second but Shanks being the crafty guy he is he keeps teasing you and teasing you, and you know this but he swears up and down he doesn’t know what you’re talking about

It’s not until he eventually gets in the bath with you slowly scissoring inside you when you finally break and give him what you both wanted.

“You want it bad don’t you…”

Almost like he was amused by your greediness, you head on his shoulder, dark chuckle erupted from his chest turning you on more

“Y-yes please! More!”

“But y/n It’s only been a day? My big girl isn’t giving up already??”

His two fingers teased your clit in the water driving you mad, it was big soft circles that always made you spasm around nothing. Shanks knew your body like the back of his hand so getting you to give up was pretty easy

“‘M sorry Shanks Just…pleaseee…please fuck me…”

“You give up?”

“……”

He huffs and slaps your cunt making you pathetically bite your lip, “….yes.”

“Good Girl.”

It didn’t take long until he turned you around aggressively shoving his tongue down your mouth

He reassures you why the challenge was a stupid idea from the jump.

Zoro

“You’re such a needy little bitch sometimes you know that?”

You both had an argument right after having sex about who’s the most horniest so that’s how you both got here bickering butt naked in the bed.

“Oh because you constantly touching my thighs and ass every single day means you’re a saint—“

You and Zoro always have these arguments on who can last longer without sex so you finally wanted to put an end to this.

“Fine, put ya money where ya mouth is 1 week—“

“What?”

“One week. No pussy, no finger, no oral, not even kissing on the lips and whoever loses does whatever the other person says.”

Of course Zoro being Zoro he couldn’t back down to a challenge, but he had some conditions too.

He just never told you about them

The day goes by incredibly well, you and Zoro treated the rest of the evening normally

Which was good because it was all in Zoro’s plan

The days went by and he began to get more touchy, lingering hand holding, purposely moving against your bottom when he walks past you, he even started walked around the ship more shirtless than usual asking if you can watch him work out knowing how much that gets to you

You weren’t dumb though, you caught on pretty quick to his scheme and so you decided to play dirty too. You only wore probably some of the shortest and tightest clothing you could find, you’d constantly bend over in front of Zoro always hearing a small curse under his breath, sometimes you even whisper in his ear about the dirtest things knowing it gives a chill down his spine.

“It kills you seeing me wearing this, huh? You wanna fuck me that badly don’t you?” Zoro pokes his cheek out and chuckles looking forward ignoring you, you really are a piece of work

The teasing just increased to the point where you both were getting disgusted faces at the crew because you and Zoro THOUGHT you were being subtle in being all touchy feely, but everybody knew from the lewd comments/jokes and constant touching what you both were doing

“Can you both just get a room already!” Nami yelled out of annoyance seeing Zoro practically pin you against the wall. You felt embarrassed as hell not realizing you both were in the middle of the deck doing this, but Zoro didn’t care

Eventually that night Zoro decided to take it further in his teasing because he was tired of your bullshit

“What are you Doing?”

Zoro came into your room with nothing but pussy on his mind. He wasn’t really the type to have a high sex drive, but the simple fact that you decided to NOT have sex with him gave him every reason to want it, but he’d never admit that.

He wanted to break you and make you admit you want it.

He got on the bed shirtless and kissed up your legs and massaged them in between, he never answered you just kept doing what he was doing, if you were being honest you missed his kisses, you nearly fell into his Trap immediately but then your eyes widened

“Hey I said no kissing!—“

“You said on the lips….these are your legs…and these are your thighs….and this is your tummy….and these….are your breast.”

You were wearing one of his thin shirts, you felt your nipples get hard, Zoro of course notices and plants wet kisses through the fabric teasing around your sensitive nipples but you grumbled you couldn’t lose

You push him off and climb on top of him immediately attack his weak point: his neck

“F-fuck! Playing—dirty huh?”

To this day you both swear up and down either of you folded first. You believe Zoro did when his fingers glided against your slit and he says you folded when your hand palmed his cock

Either way that morning you both slept in and couldn’t remember a thing except the amount of times you both came in, on, and around each other.

[jinkoh]

if you want to get hurt so badly

sunwoo x gn!reader

part of my soulmate series

summary: you'd always assumed you didn't have a soulmate but as it turns out you do—and he is very keen on helping you with your struggles...

wc: 2k

tags: soulmate au (sharing bruises), angst, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, suggestive, sunwoo is so mean but also very sweet;

warnings: graphic depictions of self-harm—pls be honest with yourself and do not read if that is potentially triggering to you, and reach out to someone if self-harm is something you’re struggling with. there is also a brief mention of suicide, but no one is actually suicidal and there are/were no actual attempts or plans on that. do not read if you're under 18.

a/n: been a while since i posted anything for my soulmate au so it was about time i think~

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You shouldn’t be doing this, not in this empty lecture room or at all. But it seemed so tempting, the blade of your scissors drawing you in like a siren’s call. The thought had been there a zillion times and it wouldn’t be the first time you’d given in. But it’d been a long time since. Still, you remembered the feeling of it so well. With every time you’d given in, the hurdle to take a blade to your skin had weakened, fear and shame overpowered by the desire for that sweet release you were craving so much. It was only this once, just to see how it feels and then suddenly you woke up with scars on your wrist that you hoped no soulmate would have to share with you. Not that you really had any hopes to have one, because if you did they must have been really good at not getting hurt. It was more likely you didn’t have one, and it seemed fitting, really. You’d always felt alone anyway, even in a room full of people, even in between family or friends. It was ridiculous to think that someone like you could possibly have a soulmate. No, it was just you. Just you and your scissors, like now, in this empty lecture room. You glanced around one more time anyway, to be safe, but of course everyone had gone by now. You opened the scissors, your hand shaking as you held it against your wrist. Then you pulled it down, feeling that familiar sting as it broke your skin. It wasn’t a deep cut, just a scratch, but it was enough to draw blood, little red beads appearing in its wake. It was enough to hurt, too.

You raised the blade once more, about to draw it over your wrist again, but you got interrupted by the sound of the door being forcefully pushed open.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Your head snapped around to the source of the voice and the scissors you were holding clattered to the floor.

“Nothing,” you pressed out, staring at Sunwoo like a deer caught in headlights.

“Nothing?” He raised an eyebrow, as he slowly stepped closer. You instinctively hid your wrist beneath your hand, as if there was any way you could still hide this from him after what he’d seen. To your surprise though, he didn’t pay attention to your arm. Instead he pulled up his own sleeve, revealing a thin red line on his smooth skin. “Does this look like nothing to you?”

For a moment you stared at the mark, unable to connect the dots. It wasn’t bleeding, but it looked just like the scratch you’d inflicted on yourself. You glanced at your own bruise, to compare, to make sure. 

“What? Surprised?” He scoffed. “Well, I could have imagined something better too. Mainly someone who isn’t keen on leaving ugly marks on my skin.”

You felt overwhelmed, still not quite able to comprehend all of this. Shame and horror welling up within you. You hadn’t wanted anyone to know about this part of yourself, about the intrusive thoughts that had been haunting you since you were a teenager. And Sunwoo specifically didn’t seem like the kind of person who would understand, and yet he was the person you were confronted with now, your soulmate. You barely even knew him and you could probably count the times you’d talked to him on one hand. Sure, your friend circles somewhat overlapped, but he didn’t seem to be that close to your friends and you weren’t that close to anyone.  There were a few classes you had together, that he mostly slept through and you’d been to his place once, to pregame, but even then you hadn’t exchanged a single word aside from hello. And that was supposed to be all the connection you had. But somehow, through some twisted joke of fate, this person was your soulmate. A soulmate you’d never thought you had in the first place. And that meant he’d seen it all. Not just today, but every single day, every single instance when you’d given in. The thought that every bruise you’d ever left on your body had appeared on his skin too made you feel exposed and naked. You couldn’t help but wonder what he must have felt when he’d seen them. Pity? Anger? Disgust? 

“I didn’t know,” you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Didn’t know what? That I’m your soulmate?”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “Yeah.”

“Well, now you do. So don’t you dare even think about that again.” You thought his expression softened a little, something akin to worry in his eyes. But then he bent down to pick up the scissors that had fallen to the floor, and when he raised his head up, his face was cold again. 

“What’s so great about this anyway?” He asked, turning the scissors in his hand to inspect it. His gaze followed the movement as he opened the silver blades, bringing one of them up to his wrist like a knife. Your eyes widened in shock and you instinctively wanted to grab his hand to stop him from cutting himself, even though you’d just done the same thing to yourself. But Sunwoo had no intention to do it in the first place, flipping the scissors back around and holding them out for you to take. Unsure what he was expecting you to do, you reached out, but he pulled away again before you could get a hold on them. His free hand came up to your jaw, tilting up your chin and making you look at him. “If you want to get hurt so badly, just come to me next time. I’m sure we can do something for you. But no more of this bullshit. Understood?” 

It wasn’t that he was cutting off your airways, but you still struggled to breathe, the situation pressing down on your chest like a heavy weight. You felt panicked, but there was also a weird heat crawling up under your skin and making it prickle. 

“I asked you a question.” His grip tightened when you didn’t respond, making it borderline painful. You felt tears stinging in your eyes but you willed them away, trying to withstand his gaze.

“Understood,” you choked out. 

He let go then, a small smile on his lips as he handed back the scissors. “I knew you could behave,” he whispered and his voice made shivers run down your spine. “I’ll see you around then.”

You tried to stay out of his way after that, too ashamed of yourself to face him. The scratch on your wrist was healing, and you fought the urge to pick at it, because you knew he would see. You also fought the urge to add new wounds too, but it was getting impossible to bear. Every time you held back just brought you closer to tipping over, the need to do something burning under your skin. You tried a zillion different coping mechanisms and alternative behaviors but nothing was quite able to scratch that itch. Still, you couldn’t, you shouldn’t, not when he would see it all. Just come to me next time. You didn’t think that he’d actually meant it and if anything it had sounded more like a threat than an offer. But as you were running out of options, you found yourself at his doorstep, anxious and sleep deprived and drenched from the rain that’d been pouring down nonstop for days now.

Sunwoo opened his door with a cocky grin, leaning against the frame. “Oh? A lost puppy?”

You didn’t even have the energy to indulge his stupid teasing, too desperate and miserable to pay it any mind. “You said you’d help me.”

“Sure did.”

“So, do something,” you pressed out, your arms wrapped around your body to try and keep you warm. “Make it hurt less. Or make it hurt more.”

He stepped aside. “Come in.”

You had expected him to be rough with you, distracting you from your stupid urges by making it hurt, filling the void inside of you with pain. But instead his touch was sweet, warm and gentle. It was hard to bear, because you didn’t think you deserved this kind of affection, and maybe because you didn’t think you’d ever received it before either.

“You can be mean, you know,” you eventually mumbled.

Sunwoo lifted his gaze from where he’d been kissing you neck, his hand that’d been pushing under your shirt coming to a halt. “Do you want me to be?” It wasn’t a flirty, teasing question. His tone and his eyes on you were serious.

“I—I don’t know—didn’t you say you’d make it hurt?”

“I didn’t. And I won’t.” He propped himself up a bit, just to lean down and brush his lips against yours. “I’m not going to help you self-destruct.”

You felt caught. It was like he’d set out a trap for you, and you fell right in, believing he’d let you use him to hurt yourself, just to be confronted with whatever this was. 

“So then, what?” You choked out, not meeting his gaze with your teary eyes. “What’s the point?”

“I don’t know,” he reached for your wrist, softly pressing his lips against your scarred skin, “I thought you could use someone treating you gently, since you struggle to be gentle with yourself.” He left another kiss on your skin, “Do you want me to stop?”

The tears were spilling out now, running down your cheeks and soaking his pillow. You shook your head, “No.”

“Good,” he whispered, leaving your wrist to rest above your head to attach his lips to yours again, his thumb brushing your tears away. “Just leave it to me.”

 “Can I ask you something?” you whispered, tucked into Sunwoo’s arms.

He hummed affirmatively.

“How did you know?”

“Know what?” His voice tickled against the back of your neck, “That you’re my soulmate?”

“Yeah.”

“You had the scars to bruises I remembered worrying about. I just knew it was you.”

“From the start?”

“Pretty much.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.”

You kept quiet for a moment, your hand finding his that was wrapped around your waist. You let your fingers run over his skin and he opened his palm to let you trace the lines. “How do you feel about it?” you eventually asked.

“Hm,” he considered for a moment, “relieved?”

“Why?” How anyone could feel relieved to find out you were their soulmate was beyond you. 

It was silent for a while and you wondered if he would reply at all, but then he mumbled a response into your hair, barely audible, “because you’re alive.”

You’d thought you’d cried enough already, but now you felt yourself choking up again, tears welling up in your eyes. “You thought I'd kill myself?”

“I only ever saw your pain. How could I be sure you wouldn’t? How could I be sure you didn’t?” he pulled you closer to his chest, “I wanted to be relieved when there weren’t any new marks coming, and I wanted to be proud of you. But there was always this fear—I had no way to tell if you’d stopped hurting or if you’d stopped breathing altogether.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? You’re still here. That's what matters.”

“Still, I did it again,” your voice was trembling and you wanted to curl in on yourself, make yourself small enough to disappear, “I let you down.” 

“No, no, you didn’t,” Sunwoo gently urged you to turn around in his arms, making you look at him, “there’s no way I could feel let down when you’re hurting.” He cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your wet cheeks, “And today you didn't do it. Today you came here instead, isn't that a win?”

“Is it?”

“It is.” He kissed the tip of your nose “And we’ll keep on winning from here on out.”

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[papermint-airplane]

How it started

How it's going

Ok put the phone down. I don't need to be 5150'd, I promise this is all totally normal. I don't post about my doll collecting on here much but I collect Barbies. Specifically, I collect Barbies with face sculpts that I like. I don't collect any one particular line (although Barbie Looks has stolen my heart and several of my dollars), I just collect whatever I find pretty.

I had this Tennis Barbie in my "body donor" stash since last year

because the Barbie Made to Move bodies have great articulation and make for great posing. I kinda just bought her on sale when she came out and had no plans for her until I saw this doll

who was just released and is the perfect skintone match. Gorgeous face + articulated body = beautiful poseable doll. What could go wrong?

Well. I actually wasn't planning on rerooting this doll. I mean sure, her hair is garbage quality, thin, feels awful, and has super choppy ends like a three year old with safety scissors got a hold of it, but I am chickenshit. I didn't want to run the risk of ruining a gorgeous doll because I've only ever rerooted one other doll in my life and I'm not that confident in my skills. I figured I'd just pop her head off, plop it on the tennis body, and call it a day. Her hair being garbage doesn't matter when I'm just posing her and putting her on a shelf, only taking her down to redress her or change her pose occasionally.

For all the normies out there, getting a doll's head off its body requires heat to make the vinyl squishy so you can slip it off the peg in the neck. Usually, you'd use hot or boiling water for this but since the hair was such trash, I was afraid to put it in boiling water. I was afraid it would melt.

Foreshadowing is a literary device-

I used a hairdryer instead.

And the fucking hair melted.

I have no idea what happened. I have used the hair dryer method to remove a doll's head before and everything went fine. Maybe I used too high of a setting. Maybe I held it too close to the doll. Or maybe Mattel cheaped out and used polypropylene instead of saran and it was doomed from the start. Or the fact that I'm an idiot once again reared its ugly head. Or all of the above factors came together in a perfect storm of ineptitude.

Regardless, I had no choice but to chop off all the factory hair and start over. My poor little doll is now sitting hairless and bodyless on my kitchen table waiting for her new (nylon!!!) hair to come in the mail from Shimmer Locks.

I'll post a picture of her with her hair all did when I...get it did.

The moral of the story is "don't trust Laura with anything".

[kazcreates]

Simple Solutions

Summary: A glimpse into a soft morning in the Rietveld-Fahey-Ghafa household, and a show of how partners complete each other.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54864406

“Damn it!” Kaz shouted, loud enough to startle his partners who were lounging in the living room. 

Before Jesper and Wylan could challenge each other to Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide who was to get up, Inej slipped from the nest of blankets that she and her partners had bundled together on the couch. Her feather-light footsteps made no sound, and yet she knew Kaz could sense her presence as she slipped into the kitchen.

He was leaning over the counter, propped up on his elbows, his face in his hands. She worried for a moment that he might have hurt himself, then she saw it.

Small droplets of waffle batter surrounded the large red bowl that Kaz had been using to mix it all up in. Inside said bowl, half-submerged in sticky batter, were Kaz’s glasses.

His eyesight had been getting worse over the years, too many knocks to the head during countless brawls and jobs gone sideways. It had taken quite a bit of convincing before they finally got him to visit the optometrist and had gone home with a pair of corrective lenses set in thin black frames.

“Damned things keep falling off and now look,” Kaz grumbled, rubbing his face roughly with the palms of his hands. He glared at the batter-caked glasses as Inej plucked them out of the bowl. One of the most feared men in half the countries in the world, at war with a pair of spectacles.

Inej couldn’t fight the smile that pulled at her lips. 

“Don’t laugh,” Kaz whined, burying his face in his hands again. There was no commanding in his voice, this wasn’t the feared Dirtyhands giving an order. This was an embarrassed Kaz Rietveld begging his wife not to make fun of him. “It’s bad enough that we missed Jesper’s birthday because of my surgery. I just wanted to make a nice breakfast for all of us.”

“Breakfast isn’t ruined, you know,” Inej chided him gently. She reached for the towel which hung on the stove handle, and dampened it beneath the faucet.

“And if I may, it’s not your fault we missed my birthday. I have the memory of a goldfish,” Jesper piped up, moving from the doorway and moving up behind Kaz, snaking his arms around his waist. “I’m not holding it against any of you. Especially not you. You needed that surgery.”

“My leg has been messed up for 13 years, it could’ve waited another day,” Kaz said, his voice low and gravelly with contentment, as Jesper nuzzled his head into Kaz’s shoulder.

“Speaking of which, have you had your medication?” Wylan called from the living room.

“If you’re going to eavesdrop, my dear merchling, you may as well join us!” Jesper called back, clasping a hand over Kaz’s ear as not to yell directly into it. 

“If you insist,” Wylan sighed dramatically, sweeping into the kitchen with a blanket wrapped snugly around his shoulders. He’d picked up on Jesper’s theatrics over the years.

“How is your leg doing, Kaz?” Inej asked, giving the glasses a final wipe with the rag. 

“It doesn’t hurt so bad this morning. In fact, I think this is the best it’s felt in months,” Kaz admitted, melting a little as Jesper pressed kisses to the side of his neck.

“I’m glad,” Wylan said, folding his blanket over the back of one of the chairs at the dining table. He rolled up his sleeves and went about finishing the breakfast that Kaz had started, hushing him when he began to protest.

“You should probably get off your feet either way, darling,” Jesper said, and, without warning, swept Kaz off of his feet, narrowing avoiding knocking into Inej. 

Kaz rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything more. He was getting better at allowing himself to be taken care of. And with all of the progress that he’d made in touch over the past decade, he had no objections with being as close to his partners as he could get.

Jesper set him down carefully in one of the dining chairs, and then stepped back, like an artist admiring his work. “Hmm… something’s missing,” he said, tapping a finger against his chin. “Ah! Inej, give me those glasses.”

Inej handed over the freshly cleaned glasses.

Jesper took them carefully, and placed his hands over the hinges. The screws tightened, making the arms more rigid. Then he ran his hands along the plastic, molding it beneath his fingers. When he was finished, he set them gently against Kaz’s nose, tucking the arms over his ears. 

“There. Perfection,” Jesper grinned, placing a kiss against Kaz’s forehead, before ruffling his hair just to annoy him.

“It’s getting long,” Inej noted, twirling a strand of Kaz’s hair so that it stood almost directly up on his head. 

He pressed it back down against his head. She was right though. The sides had grown out enough to curl around his ears, and the top was long enough to fall into his eyes if he didn’t brush it back. He hadn’t ever let it get this long since he was a child.

“You’re starting to look like a farm boy again,” Jesper teased. “It’s a good look on you.”

Kaz shook his head, but he was smiling.

These were the moments that had made ever moment of pain and agony worth it. Healing had been a hell of a process, and he wasn’t near finished with it. But he’s grown a lot since he was seventeen. He hoped to grow some more, with his Crows right by his side. 

Wylan set the first plate of waffles down on the table in front of him. 

“Candles?” Kaz asked, trying to focus on speech as Inej braided the longer strands of his hair. 

“Gasp, birthday waffles? You shouldn’t have,” Jesper again with the theatrics. He fetched the candles from a drawer and placed them into the fluffy center of the stack of waffles.

An off-key rendition of happy birthday began and ended in a fit of laughter. 

The Rietveld home full of love and life once again.

[little-peril-stories]

The Prince of Thieves: As Good as Gold, and Better: Part II

Contains: annoying children; annoying men; social pressure to kiss under the mistletoe

Previous | TPOT Masterlist | Next | Read on Ao3 instead

Word count: 4000 || Approx reading time: 17 mins

Easier to understand if you've read Are You Nobody, Too?

As Good as Gold, and Better: Part II

Teaser: I can feel a gaze burning into my back, but when I turn, Henry is distracted, talking to one of his idiot friends. Sure I’m going to find Colette watching me from over her book, I glance to the corner. It’s not a stare of deep, coffee-coloured brown that’s on me, though, but a hazel-eyed one instead.

Bree

The deal is thus: one more round of preparatory Christmas baking to keep our patrons well-fed and smiling on Christmas Day, and then I am permitted to join the hullabaloo out on the floor, where everyone is busy decorating the tree Will, Jamie, Geoff, and Allan brought inside. (Well, if the way they barrelled through the door is to be believed, the former three did the hauling of the actual tree, and Allan was the one who ended up carrying all their stuff, including Will’s coat that he oh-so-wisely doffed despite the cold wind and the snow.)

I make it out of the kitchen to see Stella loudly warning the children staying at the inn that no one is to put any candles on the tree branches, and just because the fancy trees owned by rich families and royalty bear gleaming, brightly lit flames does not mean that she has to do the same. How would we all like it, she barks, if the entire inn caught fire and we were all thrown out in the snow for our own safety in the dead of night?

Even Celeste doesn’t try to stem Stella’s tirade; none of us, as it turns out, wants to burn to death on Christmas Eve, and no one puts up a fight on the matter.

“Ah, here’s Lucy now,” Celeste says, waving me over. “These lovely little lads and lasses are going to make us some beautiful ornaments to hang upon the tree. Isn’t that right, children?” She points to the table, now strewn with all the coloured paper, scissors, needles and thread, and other decorating paraphernalia.

An excitable chorus of agreement swells around us, making me smile until Celeste finishes, “And Miss Lucy’s here to keep an eye on you and help you, all right?”

Across the room, Victoria, who’s obviously listening, presses her hand to her mouth in genuine pity as mine drops open.

“How wonderful,” I manage to say. The first barrage of little hands is already tugging at my skirt.

Celeste smiles sympathetically—not quite sympathetically enough to take over the task herself, though, of course. I suppose someone does need to ensure things are running smoothly around the inn and she is perhaps a bit old to be minding little ones…but still.

“I’ll be around if you need me,” she says, which does not offer me much comfort. “Don’t let the really young ones touch the scissors or the needles.”

“You’re responsible for wiping their tears and cleaning up the blood if you do,” Stella says, whizzing past with a broom and disappearing again.

Great.

As I’m about to let myself fall into self-pity looking at the crowd of children—every single one vying for my attention—and wonder where all their parents are, I notice that a blue-eyed gaze is watching me from across the room.

“What?” I mouth impatiently. I don’t have time for Henry’s nonsense on a good day—certainly not when I’m going to spend the next two hours stringing dried apples and popcorn into garlands, or folding paper into stars and flowers while being shrieked at by a horde of children.

Instead of trying to answer through all the chaos, he just holds something up into the air.

Oh, he’s lucky I’m not anywhere close to him right now, because I am holding a very sharp pair of scissors and he ought to be very, very grateful I can’t drive them right into his hand.

Dangling from his hand: a bouquet of greenery tied in a red ribbon. Soft green leaves, thin stalks, and brilliant, round berries as white as the snow that coats the ground outside.

“Absolutely not,” I shout across the room, forgetting myself, and he flashes me that asshole grin of his. “Get it out of here!”

Colette, who is pretending to read Dickens while she coolly observes the pandemonium from the corner where she’s sitting with the others, notices me yelling and follows my gaze to Henry Bailey and his goddamn sprigs of mistletoe. Her eyebrows move upwards.

Unfortunately, the bombardment of, “Miss Lucy! Miss Lucy!” grows to be too much then, and now I have to actually be grateful to be surrounded by all the little Christmas goblins who need to me to do everything for them, because as long as I’m being climbed on by five-year-olds, Henry can’t get anywhere near me with his stupid plant or his stupid mouth.

“All right,” I say, clapping my hands in a weak attempt to look like I know how to command the attention of children. “Shall we begin?”

I can feel a gaze burning into my back, but when I turn, Henry is distracted, talking to one of his idiot friends. Sure I’m going to find Colette watching me from over her book, I glance to the corner. It’s not a stare of deep, coffee-coloured brown that’s on me, though, but a hazel-eyed one instead.

 One kid ends up on the floor and makes me yelp when she crawls right under my skirt, between my legs, all rosy-cheeked and giggling.

“Right! No, thank you!” I tug her to her feet and catch Victoria leaning against the wall, giggling helplessly at my plight. She’s supposed to be untangling the existing garlands, I think, and she’s got part of one hanging over her shoulder, but apparently my suffering is an endless well of amusement. Maybe this was her duty last year, before I was hired, and she is sympathetic but relieved to be free of it. Maybe this is some sort of rite of passage I need to survive. Somehow.

I take the little girl by the hand and guide her to the table. “What about a star?” I ask her uncertainly. “Does that sound fun?”

She gives some sort of incoherent babbling in response and reaches for the coloured paper and a pencil. With her attention on that, I can move on to the next squealing child.

There are a few older kids, thank goodness, that I pass some of the duties to, getting them to cut paper snowflakes and stars for the younger ones while I thread needles and fold paper into roses. Well…try to.

“Hey. Let us help.”

It’s so loud in here, I almost miss it. Maybe I did miss the first few times they said it, because Colette just elbows her way in and sits down, directing Will to do the same on the other side of me.

“Let me fold,” she says, not-at-all-subtly biting back a laugh and taking my sorry attempt at paper foliage right out of my hands. “You do the other stuff.”

Well. If she wants to suffer through that, I’m not going to take the opportunity away from her. I’ll happily relinquish that responsibility.

“I can do this,” Will says, picking up one of the threaded needles. He must be able to read the question in my raised eyebrows, because he says, “Hey! It’s not that hard. And I can sew. Sort of. Now. Kind of.”

Next to me, Colette snorts.

“It’s not real sewing, anyway, though, is it?” He’s going a little red, but the look on his face is earnest.

I pluck the needle from his hand. “I think I have a better idea.”

I’ll take care of making the garlands with the “help” of some of the little ones. He can be the one to lift them up and stand them on chairs sturdily enough that they don’t fall and break their necks or knock over anything that might shatter while they add their decorations to the tree.

“Brave,” Colette murmurs once we’ve set him doing that, “but pretty smart.”

“Brave?” I repeat, wincing. How is this needle so dull? This is the eighth time I’ve accidentally stabbed myself trying to string popcorn.

She nods toward Will. “Well, smart to have him do that so you don’t have to do all the heavy lifting.”

She grins conspiratorially, and I can’t help but match it. “Was it that obvious?”

“No. I just know you’re clever. Like me.” She laughs. “And brave to trust him with—well, with anything.”

My answer slips out so fast, I’ve said it before I’ve even thought it through. The words just fall out. “Of course I trust him. I trust him with my—”

The needle bites into my finger again, and I stop, hissing and checking for blood.

Still smiling, she concentrates on her folding and twisting and doesn’t give an answer.

For a few minutes, anyway.

“And Goldilocks?” She nods across the room, and I peer out through the chaos, trying to find who she means. “You trust him?”

It takes me a moment to realize who she’s talking about: a grinning, loud-mouthed figure who’s got Stella’s glare on him as well as mine and Colette’s.

Goldilocks. She’s calling Henry Goldilocks. I almost fall off my chair, giggling and silently resolving to bring the name into our next practice session to see what he says.

“Oh, he’s harmless,” I tell her when I can speak again. “I mean, he’s shameless. A ridiculous flirt.”

“You don’t say,” she says drily.

I bite my lip. Sounds like he’s tried at least a little to get her attention, too, albeit unsuccessfully. “Yeah. He’s an idiot. But he knows it, at least. And he’s all right when you get to know him. Just…irritating.”

“Are you actually friends with him?” she asks, incredulous.

“I suppose so,” I say, thinking of a bruise I’ve got on my hip from our last morning session that I still need to pay him back for.

“So you trust him, too.”

Trust him? I must, considering all the times I’ve put my bodily well-being in his hands. “Well, I suppose I trust him enough.” I shoot a dirty look his way, though, at the reminder of what new instrument of annoyance he’s brought into the inn. “I wasn’t expecting the mistletoe, though.”

“Want me to set him straight for you?”

A funny thing happens deep behind my ribcage at her words. “No…no, I can handle him. I promise.” At this, I almost want to cry, although I expect it would look strange to see me weeping into a bowl of dried oranges and popcorn just because she offered to get Henry to lay off and quit bothering me. Because maybe Colette, even just a bit, sort of cares. “But I appreciate it. Really.”

“Just say the word,” she says, leaning over a paper carnation. “He looks like he’d be fun to smack around if he stepped out of line.”

“He is,” I joke back without thinking.

Colette’s head snaps back up.

“I mean…” Shit. “You know. Telling him to back off. And stuff.”

I don’t know why I’m keeping the lessons a secret from her. I’m pretty sure she knows how to fight. She probably wouldn’t think it strange. But I find my gaze pulled to another figure in the room, all freckles and flailing elbows and big grins, and I have to wonder what he’d think if she went and told him. Not that it matters, of course. It doesn’t. But still. I wonder. Just a little.

Colette gives me a look that says she knows very well what it looks like when people are keeping secrets, but she doesn’t press the matter.

After a cursory look at the little ones to make sure no one has a sharp tool who shouldn’t have one, and no one’s crying, fighting, or making more of a mess than expected, I put my attention back on Will. I didn’t really know what I was doing when I told him to help the children put their ornaments on the tree, but he’s doing a splendid job, so much that I almost want to let my hands fall still so I can keep watching him. He’s got this great silly smile on his face every time he kneels down to talk to one of them, and even though they’re so much smaller, none of them seem the slightest bit frightened. One of the little girls—of course, it’s the one with personal space issues, the one who crawled under my legs earlier—even leaps into his arms out of sheer excitement to put her messily drawn star as high upon the tree as she can reach.

As she stretches her arm and hangs it near the top, Will looks over here too, and I’m caught staring.

Stupidly, I wave at him, not sure what else to do since it’s too late to look away, and he grins, holding my gaze with those sparkling eyes for a few extra moments before he has to bring the girl back down to the ground.

“You all right?” Colette asks lightly, and I realize one of my hands has come to rest over my heart, which is pounding in a most unseemly and ridiculous way.

“Yes,” I say quickly, reaching for another slice of dried orange. “I’m just getting tired. It’s been a busy day.”

She gives me that look again.

“I didn’t know Will liked kids,” I say.

She glances over at him, a little smile on her lips. “Why wouldn’t he? He’s nothing but a big kid himself.”

And to be fair, he seems to be having the time of his life, bouncing around and making them “fly” a little when they ask for it and laughing at the same silly things they all find amusing. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” she says, and she winks.

I don’t expect there will be any Christmas gifts under that tree for me tomorrow, but, even so, it sure feels like I’ve got something else, something that can’t be wrapped up in a box and ribbon. Something I didn’t have before.

And like mulled wine, warm and comforting and steeped in spices that taste like home, gratitude spills over me—for smiles and company and maybe, just maybe, newly forged friendship.

***

The other three have been hiding out in the corner for through most of the decorating, but when it comes time to crown the tree with the star, Stella takes one look around the room and lands a stare on Geoff. “You. Get over here.”

There’s only a split second of him staring back at her in surprise, and then, at the sound of Colette bursting into laughter, and at the unbudging resolution in Stella’s voice, he rises and crosses the room.

“Wow,” says one of the children, practically bug-eyed. “He’s tall.”

“I know,” Celeste says with a laugh. “That’s why we need him.”

The little girl from before, who seems to have finally found her harried-looking mother, bursts away and darts toward Geoff. “Can I do it? Please? Please? Please?”

Geoff stands helplessly, clearly not knowing what to do while she dances around him, pleading to be the one to put the star on the top of the tree. A glance at Will shows that he’s almost toppled to the floor, shaking with silent laughter, and another at Jamie shows that he has his arms crossed and is merely watching with a smile. He doesn’t notice me staring, but gives Geoff an encouraging nod.

“That okay?” Geoff asks the girl’s mother, voice low but uncertain, almost nervous.

She looks him up and down, obviously wary of his gruffness and his ridiculous height, but the daughter is clinging to his hands now, jumping up and down, and the mother has no choice but to say, “Well, all right then. If you’ll—um—if you’ll be careful.”

The girl squeals with delight as Celeste hands her the star and Geoff lifts her into the air, no step-ladder needed.

“Perfect,” Celeste says when the star is glinting atop the tree, and after Geoff has taken a moment to straighten it from the slightly drunken posture it was left in by the girl. Even Stella looks genuinely happy. She doesn’t bat Celeste’s hands away when they come to rest upon her—one on her shoulder, the other with fingers entwined with hers.

I peek back at the others, curious to see their reactions to the loveliness of the tree they chose, adorned and glittering. Will’s grinning, although for some reason he glances a few times at the clock; Jamie looks content; Allan is distracted by tending to someone’s kid who got a pine needle stick under his fingernail; Geoff is trying to slink back to Jamie’s side without being noticed; and Colette’s given up her reading ruse entirely, now openly watching Stella and Celeste with undisguised interest. It’s clear from how she’s always watching everything that goes on around here that her old habits from being IA’s information-gatherer are taking their sweet time to fade away.

“Hey, Miss Lucy.”

And, of course, now there’s this voice interrupting my thoughts.

“Yes, Mr. Bailey? What can I do for you?” Turning around brings me face to face with his red waistcoat, and I tilt my head up to frown at him, suspicious. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?” he asked, all innocence.

“You know what.” I cross my arms. “Your damn mistletoe.”

“What damn mistletoe?”

“Henry.”

He flashes me that stupid, stupid grin. “You mean this?”

All around us, the older kids burst into cries, giggles, and oohs when he pulls it from behind his back and dangles it over my head. The younger ones don’t seem to know what it means, but buoyed by the infuriating enthusiasm of their older siblings, they join in on the excited squalling.

“We had a deal,” I say, trying to keep smiling for the sake of these goddamn children and no one else.

“Ah, yeah. We did. I recall.” But he’s still smirking. “This, though. It’s a Christmas tradition! Nothing more. And you don’t want to spit in the face of tradition, do you?”

“I hate you,” I say through gritted teeth.

He laughs, damn him. “No, you don’t.”

The kids are all shrieking now, like they’ve never seen mistletoe before, which cannot possibly be true. With my face burning, I step a little closer, aiming for his foot with mine. He dodges at the last second.

“You gotta try a little harder than that,” he says with a wink.

“Is that a challenge?”

I can’t control the way my eyes peer back, just for a second. It’s Colette who catches my eye; she has somehow commandeered Geoff away from Jamie, but she’s not looking at him while she talks. Like everyone else in this stupid inn, she’s watching Henry taunt me with those stupid fucking berries over my head.

With a sigh, I step forward and plant the most chaste kiss I can possibly manage on Henry’s cheek, this time landing a stomp on his toes.

“I’m going to make you pay for this,” I hiss in his ear.

Even though I’m sure his foot hurts, his eyes are still sparkling. “Darling, I’m counting on it.”

No one notices me trampling his toes or whispering threats, of course; the kids are all too busy losing their minds, along with someone else. Throwing his head back, laughing his ass off, Henry lets out a victorious whoop, then kisses me in matching chasteness on my cheek, and it’s only because he doesn’t try to steal a real kiss that I don’t sock him right in the stomach and show off all he’s taught me in front of everyone.

My heart’s pounding, I realize when he pulls away, but it has nothing to do with Henry’s lips against my cheek.

Victoria, looking sulkier than she did before, tries to nudge through the crowd, and I grab her hand. “Hey! Look!” I cry dramatically. “Mistletoe!”

And I switch places with her, so she’s now standing with Henry instead of me, and she’s giving me a look of pure joy, all sullenness instantly banished, and Henry’s rolling his eyes but also seeming to say, Well, may as well, and he kisses her, too, making her squeal and eliciting a round of cheers from his friends.

“Merry Christmas, you annoying bastard,” I say, quietly enough that no one can hear me—it wouldn’t do to scandalize the children, after all—but maybe, with any luck, he’ll read my lips and get the hint.

I glance at the corner, where Colette is clutching Geoff’s arm and suppressing a laugh with her lips squeezed together. Jamie’s stone faced. Allan looks confused.

Will is gone.

***

I don’t think my feet have ever hurt so much. This is the thought that keeps repeating in my head as I stumble upstairs to mine and Victoria’s room. Actually, it’s just my room tonight, because after she finished work, she departed to spend the night with her family so she can wake up with them on Christmas morning. I asked her once why she lives here with Stella and Celeste if her family’s not that far away, and she just said they lived too far out of town that the journey every day wouldn’t have been worthwhile. I figured I’d just take her word for it, but if I had a choice between living with Stella and not, well…

I’m almost up the stairs when a familiar voice breaks through the quiet.

“Will, are you even listening?”

Seems that when he disappeared earlier, he just came straight back up here.

“Mmm hmm,” he responds, or that’s what it sounds like, anyway. It’s quiet, almost inaudible, and unmistakably the voice of a man who is not listening at all.

Another voice. Jamie’s. Faintly concerned and quieter than Colette’s. “I guess none of us are getting any sleep tonight, huh?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Will mumbles back. “It’s not finished.”

“Looks finished.” That one’s Geoff, all rumble and thinly disguised amusement.

“Well, it’s not.”

Eavesdropping is wrong, but my curiosity burns a little. Well, a lot. Not finished what? Is “it” the reason he ran off, away from the mistletoe and the tree and the Henry Bailey debacle? Did he even see any of that?

Not that I care, of course.

“I still think you should listen,” says Colette. “I’m going to keep going now.”

“Okay,” he grumbles. “Hurry up, then.”

A soft grunt and the faintest thud make me wonder if she didn’t throw a pillow right at his head.

“‘And yet I should have dearly liked, I own,’” Colette reads after Will’s cursing has died down, “‘to have touched her lips; to have questioned her, that she might have opened them; to have looked upon the lashes of her downcast eyes, and never raised a blush; to have let loose waves of hair, an inch of which would be a keepsake beyond price: in short, I should have liked, I do confess, to have had the lightest licence of a child, and yet to have been man enough to know its value.’”

There’s a moment of silence as she pauses, a silence that seems to contain every possible emotion, breathless and urgent, as it rolls through the air.

Then…

“You’re a goddamn busybody, Colette.” It’s not Will who tells her off, even though he was the one whose attention was being requested; it’s Jamie. “I know what you’re—”

But someone’s laughing—no, more than one person. At least two. Colette, for sure, and if my ears don’t deceive me, Geoff.

“What are you so worked up about? I’m just reading. It’s right here! Look.” I can only assume she’s pointing to her page. “He didn’t hear a damn word, anyway.”

And it certainly seems like it; there’s not even a hint of a reaction from Will, except for, “The hell is so funny?”

“If it’s worth anything,” Allan’s voice says, “I’m not sure I’m comprehending, either.”

Colette says, “Oh, you’re both hopeless. Never let it be said that I didn’t at least try,” and then she’s back to reading A Christmas Carol and there’s nothing interesting left to listen in on except for Dickens’ beautiful prose.

I back away from their door, guilt already swarming all over me about the eavesdropping but warring with the strangest feeling, fuzzy and muddled to say the least, that there were two people meant to hear that passage, and while one of them did not, the other, quite possibly, heard it loud and clear as the tolling bells of midnight, heralding the arrival of Christmas Day.

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[monsterfloofs]

Already in love with the Nightmare guy! He's just a little guy😔 Suddenly an idea popped into my mind and I want to make a request, a reader (at a time when they became used to Nightmare) they surprised him with a doll they made for him (face closest to humans because it was the easiest lol) they got into a new hobby making dolls like that and didn't think unto it when they made the doll l meant dolls like theos ⬇️

Now l want one...

Oh gosh-- Are you talking about the Nightmare Collector?? QAQ ) AHHHHH-- This is such a cute idea! And now I totally want one of him too aahdkdixjsnxnsjzjs ;//3//; )

The Nightmare Collect x Anonymous Reader

Uncanny Valley

You carefully weave the last arm onto the body of a new doll. Knotting the black thread and snipping off the excess with a pair of scissors. A smile on your face as you hold up your new creation at arms length and study it.

You hadn't meant for it to look like a certain someone. It had started with the eyes, you weren't the best at sewing details yet onto the dolls and had botched them at first, trying to fix them and work with what you had made until you liked them better. 

You were sure ever since your attempt to save the eyes, the face reminded you of him. Which was a funny thing to think about, because you weren't truly sure if he even had eyes, they may just be pools of black that wept some kind of black fluid for all you knew.

Yet, after that, you couldn't help leaning into the idea until its completion. A small doll with black hair curled up like horns with black eyes and lines running down its face.

It was late, even before manic inspiration had taken hold of you. You pick up your phone and groan at the sight of the clock. 

2:36 am

It could be worse really, you gather up your crochet hook and the yarns that had taken over your bed. Plunking them down in your nearby reading chair. 

"I will get to putting it away tomorrow–" You promise yourself, knowing full well the danger of settling things into improper homes.

You bow your back and stretch, looking back at your doll and glowing with pride.

You had a funny thought in the back of your head, scooping up the doll in your hands as you walked to turn off the light in your bedroom.

"Huh. . . worth a shot I guess,"

You tossed your blankets over enough to snuggle into bed, throwing them back over yourself once you had gotten settled. You rest on your back with the doll settled on your chest, staring up at the dark ceiling.

–

You're walking down a long hallway that seems to warp and jutter like an old damaged tape recording. Doors cutting into thin glitchy pieces before unscrambling and becoming whole again. The height of the hallway shifting, stretching and contorting. You rub your eyes with one hand and beam triumphantly to see you had brought the doll with you.

You were sort of getting the hang of this whole cheshire cat dream world logic!

Whatever strange dream you were having you mostly ignored it, walking down the hall and peering at the different doorways. Looking for one that didn't belong.

It wasn't hard to find.

You pause in front of a yawning door that had mountains of bright guttering candles on either side of the door frame. Wax spilling down and pooling  onto the floor. This door did not flicker or jump, and stood solid like an anchor in the shifting hall.

You smile and try the handle, which gives easily and swings open for you to step inside.

A gothic cathedral-like library greets you, with a high dark ceiling that seems to stretch on forever, and rows upon rows of dark books lining the shelves. There were even strange arranged book stacks that were built up from the floor along the nooks and crannies free from shelves. Towers of them, teetering high. Books upon tables, books on chairs. The library was bursting at the seams, and there were more of them than ever before.

You heard humming, and turning your feet towards the direction you followed the sound.  The soft melodious voice leading you forward until you reached a dead end. You look around the labyrinth of books and shelves scratching your head in wonder.

A person could really get lost in here–

"Boo."

You jump and whirl, uttering a sound of surprise. The voice so close to your ear you could feel someone's breath.

You rub at your ear and scowl crossly at the entity who grins and laces their fingers behind their back. A pair of black shined shoes stood in front of you, a tailored suit.

"Well hello there~" The collector hums at you, dark abyssal eyes staring transfixed without blinking. 

"Come to visit me?"

"I am beginning to think it was a mistake," You grumbled, hugging the doll to yourself.

The Collector chuckles with amusement, eyes crinkling in mirth. "Ah, but you are still here. . . aren't you? Perhaps you need my assistance?"

You shake your head, "No, no. I am good actually, I haven't been having any bad dreams." You clutch the doll, and you look away, "I have a gift, actually."

"Oh?"

The usual smooth amused voice had curiosity seeping into it. 

"And what might that be?"

You fidget with the doll in your hands, feeling suddenly silly. You step forward and hold the doll at arm's length. 

You stare at the black oxfords stopping in front of you, feeling long fingers gently take the doll from your grasp.

"I uhm– made it," You glance up to see the Collector studying it with rapt attention, before bowing their head, with the doll held between their hands.

". . . This is a very precious gift." They say softly, "I shall take good care of it."

You feel a rush of nervous relief and smile, looking up at him.

– 

You wake up to find the doll missing. And you check everywhere for it. Pulling apart your bed and throwing the blankets onto the floor. Even going on hands and knees armed with your phone in hand to search under the bed with its flashlight.

It. . . couldn't be gone right? But after checking the same places over and over again, even places in your room that you couldn't possibly have put it.

You felt an uneasy prickle run up the back of your neck. 

You knew the dream world was just that. . . dreams. But some strange impression made you feel that the doll you created the night before wasn't going to be found.

Well, Mr. Spooky Nightmare Man

If this doesn’t show you that you are doing something right by helping the silly hoomans of the world— I dunna what to say!

[eden-regained]

"A wayward fairy tells a story" - Dolores. A Fairytale. (C:tD!AU)

(TW blood, violence and mentions of abuse, also rough first draft)

"Our faerie souls spawn from dreams. Therefore, I've decided that one day I, too, should've spawned out of nothingness, rather than being born by a mother to then have me warped into someone, something pitiful I never wanted to be.

I remember more faintly with every passing day the brightly swirling Balefire on the glade which warmed my friends and I on those chilly early Autumn nights as we frolicked, and it felt unreal, probably because it was unreal. Well, kind of. If a human were to stumble upon our little hideaways they would see nothing more than ordinary places; a long abandoned convenience store, a tiny forgotten chapel or maybe even a particularly boring playground with nothing more than a toddler-sized slide and a seesaw too crusted up with sand to be used.

Us fae, however, see a bazaar, a grand cathedral and a jousting tourney set up in their place, for our true heritage is based in the imagination of all material things and what those dreamers think themselves and their surroundings to be, be it involuntarily or by choice. All the world is of a dual nature; physically tangible reality and that of what we do not touch with our hands, but rather with our brains and hearts. The fae can shape it all, like architects whose materials are not cement or brick but, instead, it's the very energy of the mind and soul, that of true memories and fanciful illusions, raw dreamstuff. Glamour.

As a child I was in tune with my fairy self. Even before my Dream Dance, before I knew what I was, I was a craftsman of true magnitude. A wooden toy sword I forged into a claymore of pure golden sunlight, my shabby violet beach dress I refashioned into a ballgown made entirely of lilies, daisies and roses. Children often seem to effortlessly walk that thin twine strung between this world and that of the Dreaming, whether they possess a spirit born in Arcadia or not, they're like the nature spirits of old, intuitively shaping the world as the world gives them shape.

Once I began to question just who those Nymphs and Satyrs were I danced with every night, the scales fell from my eyes, and finally this ancient being that chose me as its safe haven from the mortal realm awoke. I recall, though only through a wall of mental fog, looking up at the full moon which had turned into a mirror. It reflected me, freshly emerged from my butterfly pupa. I had wings and they carried me so easily up into the skies, it was as if they'd always been there, then again they always were there, just collecting a bit of dust. That morning I woke up crying. Like all those trying too had to grasp what they'd dreamt up that night I lost my friends' true names to the Mists. It was painful and it got worse when he stirred to life next to me. Now I could see his pearlescent horns and long white hair draping around his naked form like clouds trying to cover the shame of a shy faun, except "dad" knew no shame, he truly was the saddest of Satyrs.

Standing excited with an impish smile creeping onto his blushing face when he'd kissed away my tears I wanted to give in and not struggle against the always a given pain, but then I'd distantly heard my friends' voices yelling words I simply couldn't have deciphered in my drowsy state if I tried. Almost as if he were a peacock vying for attention dad had swatted at the side of my face and before I could even begin to question how he could hear that voice, anger seemed to overwhelm his arousal.

And finally I must've snapped, from my nightstand I had snatched that same pair of scissors I'd recently used to cut out a snowflake from a magazine so I could turn it into a piece of, given the circumstances horribly ironic window decor, this time with ill intent. I drove the blades into his throat and for the first time in an eternity I felt Glamour rush from deep within my brain, flowing into my arm and into the scissors which I reforged with the same ease with which I'd done my old toy sword. They'd become a vicious dagger with a jagged, dragon-tooth-like blade covered in his blood, more of which poured in obscene rivers over she bedsheets as his eyes and sputtering mouth pleaded with me. Oh god, that sight and those sounds still drive me up the wall. I did not stop, and how could I, this was the most irresistible dad had even looked to me; gasping for air as he pathetically choked on his own blood and tears, all in agonizing pain while my wings, now astir in full glory, casting a shadow over him, hopefully a reminder of the heaven that was forever out of his reach. The dagger had pierced his flesh some more, his fearful Glamour flooding the room with ethereal swirls of primal emotion, having seeped into me so deeply I regrettably can feel it in my bones still. I was 13 then.

But I'm not free. I never was, for he had been supplying me with his mightmarish Glamour from the very moment he first laid eyes on me. Decades of therapy couldn't clean my fairy soul from its blighted touch and all Chimerae which sprang from my music and poetry would eventually become creatures so twisted they forever drove my dear friends, even my dearest, away from our Freehold. The glade sits abandoned now, save for the Balefire which has shrunk and lost most of its brightness. It still feeds me, yet the rift between my mortal host and my half broken, childlike faerie mien has grown to such cavernous depths I've considered just snuffing that Balefire in hopes of becoming undone, forgetting all of the destruction my diseased imagination has left in its wake over the years. I want to smother it all in Banality, I want that tempting little succubus who spreads loving unkindness all while calling itself Dolores nowhere near me, she shames me and makes me turn widdershins in a cycle I cannot break out of no matter how viciously I fight and struggle, I will always end up back at the bazaar, the cathedral, the jousting tourney and that depressing glade, wishing I didn't have to look down at my own body and see her.

But I can't. I'm a Changeling, a misbegotten child of the Dreaming, and no matter how far my retreat I can never undo my past blemishes and all that makes me cringe in embarassment and fear, I have left my mark of Glamour on those people and places I've touched and I fear that, one day, only cold iron to my own throat can save someone else's life, likewise condemning me to a warm hell and that same nothingness of which I so desperately wish it had birthed me uncorrupted."

[aks-of-the-weak]

Incipit: I'm sick. Not actually sick, not covid sick, just the little kind of sick where the nose runs a bit and the throat is a bit sore and the brain heats a bit too much to be doing arcane mathematics for Godot shaders. so here i come instead. Writing Homestuck OCs. My beloved.

Aquassa, Sign of the Stylist: This one's pretty abstract looking.

Constellation: Turns out a Stylist is a pretty vague job, right? Most commonly it's a hairdresser, but anyone who arranges things to be stylish is a stylist. Let's start by going down the Hair path. Hair has some association with magic in popular culture, but i'm not so sure what it is or where it comes from. Aquacin, the Knotted Wand was alledgedly a "mystical" constellation as well, so maybe a magic theme can be a unifying trait amongst Violet constellations. Ok, future Aks here. I didn't find shit. Mostly it's vague witchcraft shenanigans about connecting a non-descript spell with yourself. There's always the myth of Samson, but i'm not a big fan of the Bible.

Hmmm. Let's take this from another perspective. I know i want this troll to be a parallel to Maipur because of their opposing aspects, sways and hemospectral status. Maipur is a Landscaper, at least in name, and by the "anyone who makes things stylish" definition a Landscaper is a kind of stylist. If the metaphor of Artist's constellation was "Skill honed through trained repetition", then Aquassa should be a denial of that. Not "Skill from inborn talent", that's too boring. Maybe Holisticism? "Things will always end up fitting together by themselves". Characterizing a character by "Skill honed through trained repetition" means characterizing them not just by "trained repetition", but before that by their need to be skilled in the first place. So the opposite of that is a character characterized by not needing to be skilled. But i'm not diving into the character yet. Constellation, constellation! While i was spitballing about hair i had the idea of a "hair-cutting constellation". The circle on the right would be the head, the bar on the left the cut-off hair and the bar separating the two would be the scissors.  But with the new thematic this doesn't really work anymore. So, what object is Holistic? What object will function by itself? After some thinking i've settled on a Fruit Tree. A Fruit Tree is a lot more independent than a crop, i think. You don't have to replant it after every harvest and they're more resilient to changes of weather and temperatures. Official constellations don't have any plants, so some might say a fruit tree isn't appropriate for a constellation, but to me that just means it's new grounds to explore.

Physicality: First thing, as a carry-over from the Hair-based brainstorming this troll will have long straight hair. Genuinely long, going down to his ankles. And mimicking that hair, his horns are also long, thin and pointy, starting from his forehead, curving over the top of his head and ending up behind his nape, meaning if he tries to look upwards he risks stabbing himself in the neck. He's supposed to be a parallel to Maipur, so an Idea would be his strifekind would be a mundane object like how Maipur fights with a Paintbrush. Scissors is the obvious answer, but i'm trying to move away from the hair thematic, so i'll go with Shears instead. Clothing-wise, he's a proper noble in fancy clothing. He wears a long cape on his back colored dark-violet on the inside which gives him a sort of Dracula-type look. As for Psionic powers... 

Lore: « Throughout history it has been the common understanding that sea dwellers  cannot manifest psionic abilities. From this assumption, many theses have sprouted throughout academic circles. Sometimes, the naturally strong and psychically resistant constitutions of violetbloods hinder the mitosis of echocerebral cells during the larval and prelarval stages of development. Sometimes it's the process of anti-senescent regeneration which consumes psioactive agents in the blood. These are interesting theories worthy of a profound examination, but in this text, i would like to linger upon the possibility that the assumption itself is flawed. If, hypothetically, violetbloods could manifest psionic phenomenons, what sort of properties could we observe in them? Well, for one, by looking at the concentration of vascular molybdenum [...]

In conclusion, if Violet Psionic Manifestations were possible, they would be on the extremely trained end of the spectrum, further even than Chucklevoodoo and Catharametry. Perhaps completely opposite from Indigo's wholly innate "Mutations". They would have to be Fast in activation, almost as much as Burgundy Psionics, but also Short-reached in effect, somewhere just below Teal Manifestations. Most importantly, we must not forget the Sociological aspect of it. If it is a power that has remained undocumented, it is likely that it is one that can be fully or greatly utilized while remaining undetected. » - George Wiccus, 956, Encyclopedic Catalogue of Psionic Manifestations in Trollkind and Related Faunas, Volume 6, p.4-13, Never published.

Short Story:

You stand before a large orchard. Behind you is an ornate gate of black metal. Forward, on the other side of the orchard, looms a dark, dark mansion. So dark it could disappear with just the gloom of the dusk. As soon as you passed through the gate, this one Sea Dweller came out of the mansion and started walking towards you. You thought you'd wait around, you know how much these jackasses care about manners and whatnot, but the little shit sure is taking his sweet time. You've been here about 15 minutes and he's barely gotten closer. You're pretty sure he stopped to prune one of his trees at some point. So, what the hell, you lean back against a tree and take out your machete. He sends you a death glare like he thinks you're gonna start hacking at his trees or something. If bitch had objections, bitch shouldn't have been 300 meters away. The base of the blade is made of flint, so you knock a piece of steel on it and use the spark to light your cigarette. That's all you need it for, man. You put it back and he mellows out. Good to know you exist, at least.

Another 30 minutes pass where you're just chillin. You've been hopping planet to planet throughout the outskirts of the empire trying all the different cigarettes you could get your mitts on, and you gotta say, these ones are preeetty good. The way the smoke kinda grips at your throat, then lets go, like scratching an itch your hands could never reach. What was it, Xoribon-, Xorabok-, Xoripokics? You can't read the shit that's on the box. Anyways, Solid A-Tier to whatever it's name was. Not quite on the level of the Artisanal Cadaczan Ballots in S-tier, now there's the ultimate form of tobacco. As for Troll Cigs, of course, most of them belong in the F tier. They take a larva, dig a hole in it, stuff it with random chemical products and call it a day. They don't even wrap it or anything, pretty sure one of them you tried had plastic glitter in it. Absolute disgrace. The olives got some good shit, but half the time it's laced with some crazy bullshit that'll send you to death's door. That's how it is with your species, they've got no vision, no artistry, and when they ever do it's a shallow attempt at upping numbers on a—

"I trust you are Maipur Lenote."

You turn your head towards towards the haughty aristocrat who finally finished his mosey. What, is this bitch being impatient now?

"That's me"

"Your earlier taunt was in quite bad taste. Do not do it again."

You pull out the machete and turn the flat of the blade towards him so that he can clearly see where the metal turns to rock.

"It was no taunt, sir. This is all i've got on me to light a cig. I don't carry lighters, y'see, makes it too easy for some psions out there."

Lies. You doubt he'll buy it, but set a trap and you might catch a prey, set a hundred and you surely will. The aristocrat frowns.

"Irrelevant. Walk with me."

Damn, this guy's bossy. You put out your cigarette on your fireproof jacket and stuff it in your pocket. You might be a killer, but you're no litterer. The violetblood begins to walk and you follow.

"I've heard formidable stories about you. Taking on entire groups at once, taking on highbloods, taking on powerful psions and weaponmasters alike."

They always start with that. You don't know why they think you'd be flattered to hear that. You don't know why they think you're proud of killing hundreds.

"I've also heard you're an aficionado of the arts, a master of painting, gardening, scenic landscaping. Remarkable."

Ok, well, now you're blushing a little. He gestures to the fruit trees all around.

"As you see, I am something of botanist myself. My collection collection contains specimens from all over the galaxy, and beyond. I hear this one is even from another universe altogether."

He stops and points to a tree filled with red berries.

"I do know the claim sounds far fetched, but i do not believe it is not unfounded as i obtained the saplings from one man of great wisdom and class. Not the kind to spout petty lies. Have you met him, perchance?"

Bro bought some random tree marked up from a scammer in fancy clothes. You swear, violets are so easy to trick. You just shrug as an answer and he seems content with it.

He reaches his arm into his long cape and draws out a pair of pruning shears. A classic trick, hiding one's hands to pretend you're getting an item from physical storage when really you're just pulling it out of your strife deck or sylladex. If anything it gives you more information than he gains. Bad move, bitch. He uses the shears to prune a branch filled with berries and hands it to you.

"It's unfortunate, had you arrived half a season earlier you could've seen it in its flowering state. It blooms with bright pink petals that fall with the sway of the winds. Quite the regal sight. Care for a sample?"

Bitch. You just like calling this guy a bitch.  In your mind. He has a really callable-a-bitch face. But anyways, you accept and captachalogue the branch. Then you reply:

"To be honest, i didn't think you called me here to talk about this type of work."

"Ah, yes. I suppose it is for 'work' that i have let you enter the premises. So tragic how rarely 'work' aligns with 'interest'."

You both resume walking. You thought he was going to continue with something, but he just keeps walking in silence and looking at his trees. Now piping back in is awkward, but you do it anyway.

"You want me to kill someone."

"Hmm, no, not exactly. There is a group. More a ragtag posse of societal rejects than any sort of real organization. Their leader stole one of my ships and now they are traversing the cosmos, tracking an item we wish to have for ourselves. For my part i wish nothing more than to see him charred husk on the floor, but..."

He hesitates.

"My moirail, you see, used to be matesprit with him. And well, with all the pale affection i have for her in my collapsing and expanding bladder based aquatic vascular system, objectively speaking, she is... Shall we say...

Batshit fucking insane, on her better days. She would have his legs cut off at the knee and nailed to the ground, the lids of his eyes surgically removed so that he may never avert his gaze, and then all of his good friends slowly killed off in front of him while he begs with the regret of having ever 'betrayed' her. Or so she says."

You really wish you could take or dismiss jobs based on morality sometimes, but that's not a luxury that's often affordable when one is in the business of contract killings. You've got a lot of people on your tail, especially right now, and if you want to live another sweep you're going to need the cash and means this guy is willing to part with.

"Well, i'm not asking you to go so far. Just making sure most of them die will be enough. Personally, i'm interested in however much closer you can bring us to the aforementioned item. Find us even an inch of information and you shall have rewards beyond value"

Fancy nobles and their metaphorical ramblings. What could he possibly have to give better than Money. You keep walking towards the mansion in silence. You'd like to think the years have toughened you, molded you into this hard-boiled lethal mercenary that knows no pity and no remorse and yaddi yaddi yadda, but the truth is it still sticks to you. The screams of agony, of visceral hate, even from people who would laugh doing the same. You hate things that stick to you. Sometimes you wish a great wave of death would swoop away through the galaxy and wash away every troll and their starships clinging to the void of space and let them crash down on the sun and planets all around. And only you would be left. Civilizations of the entire universe would cheer and start anew. They'd make art and products more beautiful and pleasant than your entire species has even tried to produce in the thousands of years of its slaughterous existence. And you'd be left jumping from planet to planet, seeing it all, trying as much as you can with the time in this world that is actually yours to u—

"May i ask a question?"

Ugh, hasn't he talked enough?

"Shoot"

"There are millions of low bloods, fighting and killing each other, right now and at any given moment. No doubt you've been amongst them at one point. But where they have confronted death twice, thrice, maybe a dozen times, you've met countless more foes, some outclassing you in number, in sheer strength, in psionics. What is it that makes it you came out on top, and they perished?"  

You consider answering with something stupid, that a noble would like, like "idk, i guess i'm just better", but in your walk, obnoxiously slow though it was, you've grown just a smidgen of respect for the man and his strange passion for arboreal botany. Here you were, thinking shit about your species' sense of artistry, might as well say something worthwhile.

"I think it's just luck. No matter how skilled, strong and prepared you are, at the end of the day you enter a battle with some amount of unknown information. Everyone risks death, i've just been lucky enough to hit twelve on every roll of my d—"

"WRONG!"

His scream makes you take a step back. Shadow hits your face. Dusk has set. The sun is now behind the Mansion.

"It is because you are better, Lenote!"

Its mass cannot be distinguished from its shadow which has now passed your head and runs ever deeper from whence you came.

"Highbloods are stronger than Lowblood, Psions are stronger than Mundanes, Number is stronger than being alone."

You now realize that at some point the man shifted from leading the walk to walking besides you. He takes a step closer to you, or so you think. It's too dark, you can't be sure.

"And you, Maipur Lenote, could come all this way to my doorstep because your talent with the flame and the blade, because your cunning as killer, it allowed you survive even without those cheap advantages of circumstances."

You could swear he has gotten taller. But you could not, you cannot see. You hear movement from where he is, but it's not his, it's something else. Is there a beast there, with him, in the shadows? An alien? Why would it not sneak up from behind you? Throughout this talk you've been certain you could kill him with relatively little risk if need be, but now you're not so sure.

"We ask this job of you, Maipur Lenote, not because you are some petty mercenary. But because you are an Artist. with Death."

It's lunging towards you. You take out your machete and swing in the air. You hit nothing. You equip your Giant Paintbrush and the steel plate under its hairs is hit by the flint of the machete. Sparks fly. It ignites the tar coating your brush. Light again.

He is just standing there. Normal Sized. No beast anywhere. Nothing lunging at you. Just a bitch with a smug face while you're flipping the fuck out.

"Is there a problem, Maipur Lenote?"

"Uh, yeah, it's dark as shit in here. I was just getting us some light."

"Ah, I see. I happen to have excellent nocturnal vision, so i don't always notice these things. My apologies."

Excellent nocturnal vision my ass, you think. His pupils were completely undilated, there's no way he could see shit in there. Finally, you reach the manor's patio.

"We have arrived."

He opens the door and signals you to get in.

"Come on in, the rest of The Court is eagerly awaiting to meet you."

"You're not gonna ask me to leave my weapons at the door?"

"Of course not, we have manners."

You step through the doorframe. As the doors closes behind you, you think back to your talk with that man. Or rather, the one he has had with you. You think that, in your little game furriers, you might have ended up the prey.

Excipit: Gods damn, i love writing. You forget how fun this shit is when you start thinking about how you "should write" instead of actually doing it. I've cut the Lusus and Personality section. The former, i think i'm doing away with since it's not relevant most of the time. Ajiana Carcha (this guy) had a very weak mosquito-type lusus who died from getting crushed/killed when he was pretty young. It broke his heart really badly </3. That's enough lusus info, imo, maybe i'll integrate it into Physicality for future posts. Personality i'm not doing away with, but when you've got such an extensive short story, plus for an antagonist who you generally want to keep mysterious more than a protagonist, i think it's not necessary. I dream of a day where i'll be able to just say stupid non-sequiturs in the Excipit. Instead most of it is taken up on the actual subject of the post. Ugh, so annoying.

[panfishonthefly]

Notes from The Fly Tying Bench - A Guide to Fly Tying Scissors

If you are shopping for a new pair of fly tying scissors or are looking to get your first pair, the number of choices can be bewildering. This post will explain the differences between the multiple options available to today's fly tier.

In the classes I teach, I am often asked if purchasing a fly tying kit is a good idea. Although there are a few suitable kits on the market today, the main reason I discourage students from buying kits is the quality of the tools provided. My advice is to buy the best vise your budget will allow, and then the second item to invest in is a quality pair of scissors. In my opinion, those two tools are the most important. The rest of the required tools do not rely on quality as much as those two items.

How much is too much?

So how much do you have to spend on quality scissors? Fortunately, some excellent options won't break the bank. Prices range from just a few dollars to a hundred or more. So what's the difference between a hundred-dollar pair of scissors and a ten-dollar pair? Quite a lot. Higher priced scissors will be constructed well, made of better steel with sharper edges; they will have fine, perfectly matched points and stay sharp much longer. The good news is you don't have to spend a hundred dollars to get those features.  

Brands like Dr. Slick, Loon, and a few others produce quality fly tying scissors at a reasonably low price, usually between $15 and $40. Higher-priced brands like Renomed and Kopter may set you back a little more, depending on the model. I have been using Renomed Scissors for several years, and I believe them to be one of the best values in a high-quality fly tying scissor. With all of these brands, you will have a lot of models to choose from. Let's break them down.

Size Matters

The first thing to consider is the scissor size best suited for your needs. you will need to consider the size of your hands as well as what you plan to cut. What ever scissor you choose they must be comfortable to use. Scissor blades come in a variety of lengths. For fine detail work like working on small delicate dry flies, scissors with short sharp, tipped blades are your best choice. On the other hand, if you are a saltwater tier working with synthetics and bucktail or a bass bug fanatic, a pair of scissors with a longer set of blades will be more useful (especially for deer hair work). Then, of course, personal preference comes into play as well. Some fly tiers prefer a particular size scissor regardless of the material they are working with.

Straight v. Curved Blades and Sharp v. Rounded

Again this often comes down to personal preference. For myself, I generally prefer straight-bladed scissors. However, I recently dropped my prized straight-bladed Renomed Flytier Supercuts on a concrete floor during a fly tying show. Of course, they landed point first, and those needle-sharp points got banged up. I tried straightening them and bringing them back to working condition, but I could no longer snip a single feather fiber with the very tip of the scissors as I could before. I had the same scissors with curved blades, so I used them for the rest of the show. Immediately I observed that the curved blades allowed me to cut closer, and what I was cutting was more visible because I held the scissors at a different angle while cutting. Based on that experience, I may become a curved blade convert. In the past, I had only used curved scissors when trimming deer hair on bass bugs.

Today several manufacturers are making long-bladed blunt-tipped scissors. These scissors can serve many purposes on the tying bench, including cutting foam strips, thin skin, and animal hides. However, where they excel is working with dubbing loops. The long blades can cut away a feather stem trapped in a dubbing loop in one cut minimizing the risk of the feather fibers falling out of the loop. They work exceptionally well with CDC feathers.

Smooth, Serrated, or Combo Blades

As you look at all of the available scissor options, you will see some have smooth edges, some are serrated, and others have a combination of blades with one smooth and one serrated. There are also scissors marketed as razor scissors that have extremely sharp, smooth edges.  

Smooth edge and razor scissors work well as long as they are sharp. They cut cleanly, are suitable for fine materials, and are excellent at cutting thread. However, slick synthetic materials may slip in the blades, especially as they dull.

Serrated scissors grip the material they are cutting. The serrations grab the material and hold it in place while the cut is made. They are preferable for coarser material and slippery synthetics. One word of caution: if you serrated blades for cutting material like foam, you might imprint the serrations on the foam, especially if they are coarse serrations. Serrated scissors generally stay sharper longer but are very difficult to resharpen.

Combo blade scissors have one smooth blade and one blade with micro serrations (like my beloved Renomed Supercuts). This blade type gives you the best of both worlds. This style is my personal preference for an everyday fly tying scissor.

Blade Design

As you shop for your next pair of scissors, you will notice they come in all shapes and sizes. Here is a breakdown of the various blade styles:

Arrow Point: These scissors have short fine, point blades. They are great for tying tiny flies and close-up detail work.

General Purpose: These are the jack-of-all-trades scissors. They have fine points for detail work but slightly longer blades that allow for more versatility. If you only want one pair of scissors, these are for you.

Razor Scissors: As the name implies, these scissors have very sharp, smooth, fine blades. Since these scissors have such fine blades, you should never attempt to cut hard materials like wire (even at the back of the blades). I once wrecked a pair trying to cut through some heavy goose quills. The quills were hard enough to roll the edge on one of the blades.

Utility Scissors: These are larger scissors designed to work with coarse or heavy materials (like those goose quills). They work well for synthetic materials and will easily cut materials like wire, but you still want to use the back of the blades and not the tips.

Hair Scissors: These scissors are designed for deer hair work. They have heavier blades than general-purpose scissors and are perfect for working with deer hair and synthetic material. 

Spring Loaded Scissors: This type of scissors works by the user squeezing them. They all have a spring mechanism that allows them to reopen after cutting. They're often found with fine light blades, but a few models are available for heavier work.

Special Features

You will see scissors that have an adjustment knob on them. This knob is a standard feature on razor-style scissors. The knob allows the user to adjust the tension of the blades. This adjustment also helps the scissor to cut longer as the blades wear. Tightening the knob presses the edges together, making them stiffer to use, but it will allow for an exact cut.

Thinning blades are used to thin out material like craft fur to create a taper.

Uses for worn-out scissors

While I know a few individuals who have attempted to resharpen scissors often with mixed results, I tend to delegate them for other uses once they become dull. A pair of scissors to dull for fly tying will still cut other materials for different purposes quite well. One use for blunt scissors on the fly tying bench is cutting wire. I have assigned my banged-up Renomed Supercuts for this purpose. I wrapped a piece of colored tape around the finger loops, so I don't pick them up for detail work.

I hope this clears up some of the confusion regarding fly tying scissors. If you are looking for a great pair of mid-priced scissors, I strongly recommend the Renomed line-up. I have used these scissors for several seasons and have been very impressed with them. A pair of high-quality scissors is worth every penny spent on them and are a must for every fly tier. Take care of them, and they will last a long time.

If you are shopping for a new pair of scissors you will be doing yourself a favor if you check out the Renomed line up.

Loon Scissors are also available here.

[scottybrock]

The Show - Beck/Jade/Reader

A/N: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING A FIC THAT HAS A POLY COUPLE IN IT, PLS DON’T ROAST ME

“Move,” Jade ordered, slamming her lunch tray on the table. Tori glared at her, but Jade was unfazed. “You kissed Beck during your first week here,” Jade reminded the thin brunette. Beck scrunched his nose at the reminder, subconsciously lifting a hand to wipe at his lips. “That was because you poured coffee on my head!” Tori whined. 

You glanced at Jade, who smirked. “Be glad it was iced coffee,” Jade responded, roughly shoving her way between you and Tori. “If you ever try to put your dry lips near my girlfriend, you’ll have to worry about more than a cup of coffee.” Tori yelped as Jade slammed her hip against hers, but you welcomed the contact, leaning closer to your girlfriend. A small smile pulled at the corners of her lips. “Hey,” You grinned. Jade’s bright blue eyes lit up, and her expression softened. “Yeah, hey,” She grumbled. Beck shifted closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Hey babe,” He greeted. Jade rolled her eyes at him, but a soft smile spread across her face. “Whatever.” She grumbled.

Tori tilted her head, her brows furrowing. “How is it that Jade has not one, but two significant others, and I’m single?!” She whined. You exchanged a look with Beck, then rolled your eyes. Jade glared at Tori. “What’re you trying to say, Vega? That I’m hideous, so therefore I deserve to die alone?” She snapped. You nuzzled your face into the crook of her neck, pressing a light kiss to her neck. 

Her glare softened as she turned to you. “Excuse me, I’m trying to scare the wazz out of Vega,” She murmured, trying to stop the giggles that were building up in her chest. You pressed another soft kiss to her neck, and she sighed, her tense posture relaxing, leaning against you. Beck leaned over and brushed his lips over Jade’s. “Yeah, but there are more… pleasant things that we can be doing with that time,” He smirked. You lifted your head from its comfy place to turn around and kiss him, your tongue pressing against the seam of his lips. 

His response was immediate; he gripped your hips with bruising force, pulling you onto his lap. Jade leaned over to scatter rough kisses along your neck, biting lightly at your soft skin. “Guys,” Tori cleared her throat. You ignored the waifish brunette, running your hands along Beck’s back, pulling him impossibly closer. Jade’s kisses and Beck’s tongue were doing things to you that weren’t entirely appropriate in a school setting.

With great reluctance, you slid off of Beck’s lap. His hands gripped your hips as if to hold you there, but seeing the determined expression on your face, he relented and gave your hips a final squeeze. Jade’s kisses tapered off, and you finally looked at the table. While you’d been occupied with your boyfriend and girlfriend, Andre, Robbie (plus Rex, but you couldn’t stand the puppet), and Cat had all found their way to the table. “Whoa,” Rex said. If he could, he’d be grinning like the little leper he was. “That was hot, babe.” 

Jade’s brows furrowed, a thunderstorm of emotions flickering over her flawless face. “Call my girlfriend babe again and you’ll lose an arm,” She snarled. Robbie shielded Rex protectively as Andre snickered. Tori looked on with an amused expression, a subtle smile curving her lips. Cat let out a high pitched giggle. “One time, my brother…” She started, then adopted an offended expression when your friends all groaned, nearly at the same time. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” She exclaimed. Jade ignored her, turning to Beck. “Get me coffee,” She demanded. You perked up, giving your boyfriend a hopeful look. Beck caved almost instantly. “What’s the magic word?” He asked playfully. 

Jade’s glare sharpened. “Now!” She snapped at the same time that you shouted “Please!” and offered your boyfriend a charming smile. Beck rolled his eyes at Jade, but bent down to press a firm kiss to her lips. Her expression softened, and she looked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes and uttered in a soft, sweet tone that she reserved only for you and Beck. “Please?” She requested. 

Beck’s handsome face lit up, a toothy grin settling on his lips. “Be back in a minute.” He acquiesced. As he walked away, Jade shouted after him, “Two sugars!” He turned back and gave her a thumbs up. Jade turned to her salad and began violently stabbing it as hard as the plastic fork would allow. You didn’t bother reminding Beck of your coffee order; after all, he’d been your boyfriend for almost three years. He knew what to do. 

You were broken out of your reverie by Tori asking Jade if she could have a cucumber from her salad. Jade glared at her frenemy. “No,” She snapped. Tori pouted, sticking her lower lip out. “C’mon, I just want an itty-bitty piece of cucumber,” Tori whined. Jade rolled her eyes, then picked up her entire salad, aiming it at Tori. Tori shrieked, ducking for cover. Andre immediately grabbed his backpack, ready to make a run for it. Cat was oblivious, eating her pizza without a care in the world. Robbie let out a whimper. You just watched, waiting to see what your beautiful girlfriend was going to do. 

Much to your amusement, she didn’t throw the salad at Tori. She chucked her half-eaten salad directly at Rex, and by extension, Robbie. The salad hit the two of them, landing with soggy splat. Robbie’s jaw hung open, his eyes wide. Jade glared at him. “That’s for calling my girlfriend babe,” She snarled. Robbie glared back at her, then immediately cowered away from her when he realized what he’d done. Without another word, he grabbed his backpack and his puppet and hightailed it away from the table. 

Andre and Tori laughed. You snickered, which brought a small smile to Jade’s flawless face. Jade raised an eyebrow at them. “I think you should leave,” She said, her tone matter of fact. Andre was well aware that when Jade used that tone, she wasn’t asking- she was telling. “Alright,” He acquiesced. “See you guys in Sikowitz’s class,” He stood, but Tori stopped him, furrowing her brows once more. “Why do we have to leave?” The songstress complained. Jade’s smirk sharpened. “Because,” She drawled. “While I no longer have a salad to throw at you, I have these,” With that statement, she whipped a pair of scissors out of one of her boots. 

Tori had a look of absolute horror on her face as she fled the table, with Andre following close behind her shouting, “Why’d you hafta ask why?!” Cat followed behind them, gleefully proclaiming, “Weee! I love running!” You giggled, pressing a soft kiss to Jade’s lips. “Wanna tell me the real reason you scared everyone away?” You asked, your voice teasing. Jade’s perfect lips curled into a soft smirk. “Maybe I just want to spend time alone with my boyfriend and girlfriend,” She replied, shifting so that you could pull her closer, your legs brushing against hers, then finally entwining. You pressed a hand to your chest, your voice playfully mocking. “Jade West, whatever do you plan on doing with me?”

Jade’s gorgeous face lit up, her smile roguish. “Oh, I plan on doing a lot with you,” She murmured. Your cheeks flushed, and you nudged her. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You teased, your lips brushing gently over the shell of her ear. She shivered. “Maybe when Beck gets back… We can go to the janitor's closet and ditch fifth period,” You suggested. Jade’s cheeks flushed, the redness contrasting quite lovely with the paleness of her skin. Her smile was uncharacteristically shy. “I’d like that,” She replied softly. 

Beck returned, balancing three coffee cups. “Where’d everyone go?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow at the blush on Jade’s cheeks. You reached for your coffee, taking a quick sip. “That’s not of importance right now,” You replied, a devilish smirk appearing on your face. Beck’s other eyebrow rose; he knew when you had that look on your face, trouble wasn’t far behind. “Oh yeah?” He asked, handing Jade, who looked rather flustered, her coffee. “Then what is of importance right now?” 

Your smirk grew and you glanced over at Jade, who was squirming in her seat. “The important thing right now is that our girl has some needs that need to be taken care of.” You replied. A matching smirk flashed over Beck’s face. He turned to Jade. “Is that so?” He looked unbelievably smug. How could he not be, when he knew that he was about to fuck two of the most gorgeous girls? “Well, babe. How about we move this somewhere else? Wouldn’t wanna give anyone a show, would we?” 

You shrugged, your eyes glinting playfully. “What if I would?” You teased. Beck’s eyes darkened, and Jade whimpered in the background. Beck set his cup of coffee down and pulled you to him, his hands gripping your hips tightly once more. “Fuck the janitor’s closet,” Beck’s voice was low and gravelly. “We’re ditching for the rest of the day. I’ll give you and Jade a show you won’t soon forget.” 

Jade stood on shaky legs, and you and Beck pulled her in close, so that you formed a small circle. Jade’s fingers ran up and down your leg, causing you to shiver. “I don’t doubt that,” Jade smirked. “Never had a reason to complain before.” You nodded in agreement. Beck growled lowly, moving one of his hands to grip one of Jade’s hips as well. “I’ve got no complaints on my end either,” Beck remarked, his dark brown eyes practically pitch black with lust. “Now get your sweet asses to the truck so we can get to the RV, and I can fuck you both into the mattress until the sun comes up.”

You grinned slyly at him, then glanced at Jade. “Can I fuck Jade into the mattress, too? You can watch.” Jade shifted slightly, letting out a soft whine. She loved that idea, and it was obvious Beck did too, as he pulled you into a bruising kiss. You nipped at his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him. “Get to the truck now,” Beck growled. “I’m gonna call us in sick. I want both of you in the truck and ready to go by the time I get back.”

“I’m already ready to go,” Jade grinned. Beck let out a soft groan. “Let me go call us in sick, stop tempting me.” Jade’s grin sharpened, and she collected the abandoned coffee cups. “We’re most certainly going to need energy to go until the sun rises,” Jade shrugged innocently. Beck grinned, then hurried back to the school. The lunch period was long over, but the fun was just about to begin. 

“Don’t take too long, or we’ll start without you!” You called after him. Jade laced her fingers with yours, and the two of you began walking to the truck. Her smirk would have made the devil proud. “I like the way you think.” 

You grinned at her. “And I like the way you taste.” Jade’s cheeks flushed once more. “Ditto. I like the way you taste. Now stop talking, or we’re really going to have to start without Beck.” She grunted, opening the door for you. You pressed a soft kiss to her lips in thanks, then slid into the car. Jade joined you seconds later, resting her head on your shoulder. You wrapped an arm around her to pull her closer. She inhaled deeply, then snuggled closer. 

The driver’s side door opened, and Beck slid in. “We’re all set,” He told you and Jade. His dark eyes glinted with the promise of pleasure and love. “Are you ready?” Jade made a soft noise of affirmation. You grinned back at him, your eyes twinkling. “Always.” You replied. 

Beck’s smile widened. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

[sapphicwhxre]

keep going

♡ pairing: hermione granger x fem!houseneutral!reader

♡ summary: you walk in on hermione touching herself and tell her to finish.

♡ requested: yes | no

♡ warnings: shy!hermione, soft dom!reader, f. masturbation, miss kink, breast play

gif is mine; this is for my rationally horny anon <3

if you hadn’t seen it for yourself, you wouldn’t have believed it.

but you’d waltzed into hermione’s unlocked prefect dorm and found an unbelievably attractive sight. it was hermione granger, shamelessly fucking herself on her bed ─ well, shamelessly until you made her blush furiously, cover up quickly, and stammer incoherently. all by knocking on the wall to tell her that her door was unlocked and she should open her eyes.

“someone’s busy, i suppose,” you hummed, rather amused, in response to her flustered blabbering. the sight was incredible, but even better was the complete upper hand you had right now. you didn’t want hermione to stop, in fact you wanted to the opposite. “i didn’t mean to interrupt, but don’t stop on my account, sweetheart.”

“you mean?. . .” hermione trailed off, eyes widening, before she could finish completing your suggestion. she couldn’t help it; if you were implying what she thought you were implying, hermione wanted it badly but was clearly embarrassed. for once in her life, she was at a loss for words. “i mean keep going, ‘mione,” you put the poor thing out of her misery. “i wanna watch you get yourself off, that alright, bunny?”

somehow even more flushed than before, hermione nodded shyly. she slowly pulled the blanket she’d used to cover her heat from you away from her legs and a small smile began to creep onto her. “yes, miss,” hermione spread her legs, tone polite. “i wanna touch myself for you.” this would be different from your usual sexual endeavors ─ a good different.

“like a good girl?” you prompted, making her bite down a grin as your hand touched her thigh. “like your good girl,” hermione agreed. she laid backwards, still looking you in the eye and steadying her breathing. “can i start touching myself, miss?” nodding, you granted her request. “only cause you’re minding your manners.”

you teased her, but you and hermione both knew the reason for doing this; because you wanted it. finger circling her clit, hermione started again, despite having been close to her orgasm before ─ she wanted to be good for you. “so pretty,” you praised softly. an exhale that made a small sound escaped from hermione’s lips while her fingers moved on to teasing her lips. “and so well-mannered. haven’t tried to rush at all, good girl.”

“i know you wouldn’t like that,” hermione pouted, as if offended you would even suggest that she’d do so. her breathing was heavy, but she kept speaking, batting her eyelashes all the while. “am i wet enough, miss? can i please fuck myself?” her breasts rose and fell subtly with every deep breath she took. hermione was desperate for her own touch and somehow you controlled whether she got it or not.

“take your top off first, love, you’re far too clothed,” you stroked her deep pink cheeks that were matching her throbbing core. “then you can fuck yourself with those pretty little fingers, that sound good, bunny?” immediately working on the buttons of her blouse, hermione discarded of the top like you requested. “yes, miss.”

a sheer pink bralette held her boobs up in an angelic way. you finally took your place beside her and laid too, unclasping the bra and revealing both her bare back and breasts. “don’t mind me, pretty girl, you make yourself cum now,” you whispered into hermione’s ear, smirking when you felt her shiver slightly. your hands cupped her tits, feeling them softly.

able to see between her spread legs from your spot, you watched as hermione inserted a finger into herself. like she was testing the waters, her eyes flickered up to yours, and you kissed her unsure lips gently. “keep going,” you coaxed. a second finger was enough to make her moan out loud, though perhaps it was the combination of that and your ghostly touch on her chest. it was obviously difficult for her to hold herself back and you watched, enjoying, for a moment before relieving her. “go faster, darling, you deserve it.”

biting her lip, hermione indulged herself, pumping rapidly into herself. the soft cries that left her were ethereal, turning louder when you started to toy with her nipples. “feels good, miss,” hermione moaned. “not as good as yours though.” you smiled at her, tugging on her buds lightly. “you’re doing so well, love, just keep going.” hermione nodded at your coaxing, presumably scissoring and curling inside of herself.

hermione gasped; your lips made their way to her breasts, kissing gently before wrapping them around her. her moans sounded closer and you suckled softly, squishing her tits while you tasted her. “‘m gonna cum, y/n,” she threw her head back and gripped you. she was so wet that you hear her thrusting into her cunt, faster and faster. “fuck, miss!” she came, nails digging into your hair. a thin string of saliva pooled her tits when you pulled away and you reached up to kiss her.

lips curled into a smile, hermione accepted your kiss. you turned your head to see the mess she’d made of yourself and had to bite down a moan. taking her hand in yours, you sucked the cum off of her fingers, fluttering your eyes shut contently before kissing her once more. “good girl,” you muttered against hermione’s lips. “still want my fingers too, lovely?”

“yes,” hermione breathed out eagerly, cheeks tinted pink, before suddenly remembering to mind her manners. “i mean, yes please, miss.” you placed a kiss on her temple and raked your eyes down her subtly heaving figure before making a decision. hermione looked just too pretty for you to not keep going.

“lay down for me, ‘mione. . . i’m going to make you feel even better than your fingers did, ‘kay?”

────♡

[thefanbasewhore]

To Forget.

Summary: Buck has a nightmare and just wants to forget about it, of course with the help of his girlfriend.

Warning/content: (18+), suggestive content ahead. Biting, slight degration, rough sex, mentions of PTSD but Bucky is a soft little angel towards the end. P in V, oral (female receiving)

Paring: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: I don't ever write smut, so this kinda sucks but also took me 2 weeks to write 😡

He's curled on the floor, chest heaving as he takes a deep gulp. Eyes ablaze but wide with sadness, fear of the demons who drown him every night he closes his eyes.

The smallest step has his head snapping in your direction, hand reaching out as if he was looking for something to protect himself with but with a few clicks and gears turning the vibranium hand unclenches a sigh of relief leaving his lips.

"Hi baby." His heart is still pounding, mind still racing as he remembers the reason he's in this predicament. Faces of those he's wrong, guilty he's the reason families mourn and children go without father's. Bucky opens his arms, wanting you close, wants the feeling of anxiety and guilt to go away.

Without hesitation you sink down next to him, finding a home between his arms, chest warm and comforting.

"It's alright Buck, I'm here." Lifting your head to face him, petting his hair as you press a soft kiss to his lips. His eyes are sad, glossy with unshed tears, chest irratic against your own. "I'm here."

A hand against his chest reminds him to breath, taking deep breaths out his nose to ease the burning chest. "You have to start waking me up when you move off the bed, don't like you sleeping out here by yourself."

"You look so peaceful, it would be a crime too."

A warm, soft hand glides up the bare skin of your inner thigh, skillful and unforgiving as it pushes deeper and deeper underneath the hem of the shirt. Bucky's eyes flicker to your own, sad and wild but also, filled with an aching hunger felt deep inside the pit of his stomach. The blues mixed with a sense of panic but layered with cloudy lust. "Wanna forget sweetheart."

The words mean nothing as a finger presses against the bundle of nerves covered by your panties, which momentarily surprises and makes your jump, warm lips press against the junction of where your neck and collar bone joint. "Help me forget?"

It's hard denying such a request especially feeling the cushioning of his bottom lip follow the line of your collar bone with wet, sloppy kisses. He's sucking at the skin, nibbling and paining it purple in his wake, fingers now running over the hem of the black, lace panties. His other hand reaches over, vibranium knotting into your hair, cupping the back of your head to angle your face towards his, it's not soft - rough and meaningful but just enough to make your heart pound and between your legs wet.

Longing eyes as he bites his swollen lips, staring at each other for an eternity - or that's what it feels like. The tension is high, his hardness heavy on your inner thigh as he moves closer, coolness of dog tags felt through the thin shirt, the contact hardening your nipples. Eyes dark are feral and when you dare look away - down at where he throbs against you, he harshly yanks at your hair. "Eyes on me, sweet girl. I still haven't gotten my answer yet."

"Yes, yes, yes." That's all he needs as a tongue wets the skin of your neck, a smooth trail of saliva making your neck his. Flesh hand reaches between, squeezing your tit softly, rubbing it through the shirt and feeling it harden.

Clearly frustrated, his fingers pull at the hem of the shirt with a growl, soon enough it's up and over thrown across the room with little regard. Hands squeeze every round piece of flesh, gentle but meaningful as lips bruise your skin.

His chest flushes against your own, now with heavy breaths for an entirely different reason. Frustrated hands find the barrier between his hand and your aching arousal, face mirroring the irritation because of it as two hands push into hem before shredding them with little regards.

You barely have time to gasp as his fingers fill you, smooth kisses presses against the line of your stomach as fingers slide out before curling up into the spot that makes you cry.

He's relentless, at first it's too much, trying to move up the bed from the source but he holds you still, grounds you underneath him until you're soaking his hand, whining out for him.

"More, more, please." At this point you don't know what you're begging for, something snaps inside you. Warm and filled with a tingle that numbs both legs but between his fingers which move in and out at an unforgiving pace you can't feel a thing.

It's impossible to form words as he hits a spot so deep you cry out.

"Look at you.." He teases but hard eyes are anything but playful, they're cruel and condescending and never leave your own. The way he talks is so filthy, degrading but love every word that falls from his mouth. "All dumb, can't even speak. Am I making you dumb, sweet girl?"

The words get stuck in your throat again, the feeling on his finger hit deeper and deeper as your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Eyes feel heavy, half way closing as walls flutter around his scissoring digits. "Gonna come for me, honey?"

"Mmmm!" Is all you can manage as a pair of teeth sink into your inner thigh, it doesn't break the skin but will leave a mark that will last days.

"Yes you are, look at you. I want it, give it to me." A tongue runs out to roll over the burning skin, soothing it with wet saliva and a few kisses as his fingers milk you through. "There it is, you're gorgeous, baby."

It happens so fast, white, hot pleasure that temporarily blinds you. A dark bliss with shaky thighs, they only thing that pulls you back is the feeling of lips against your inner thighs and clicking of plates and shifting of gears as cool vibranium pets your hair, skimming over your hair line. "You with me, bunny?"

A weak nod but that's all he needs before a long stride of his tongue catches a taste of your cum, squealing at the surprise and sensativity of post orgasm. "Bu- Buck -."

You can't form words once again and he can care less. He's ruthless, nibbling at the over-sensative bundle of nerves, licking and moaning with the slightest shift of his own hips

Hands fall to feel the smooth hair, stands a little longer on top fill into the gasps of your fingers, pulling harder- harder then you usually would but Bucky doesn't seem to mind.

"Buck - ugh!" The sounds are filthy, wet and sloppy as one particularly hard pull of hair muffles a moan that vibrates your whole lower half, legs start to shake as thighs tighten and cup his ears.

He's putting his all and everything into you, drunk on the feeling and taste as everything else in his broken mind disappears - he's tense, angry but only filled with thoughts of you, you, you.

For the second time within only minutes of each other you cum, Bucky doesn't dare move, taste every single drop he could manage before pulling away. Arousal smeared across his face as he sits on his knees between open legs using the back of his hand to wipe whatever he could manage.

The loud announcers of the soccer match on the television is the only sound next to the heavy breathing, breasts moving with every breath and Bucky can't look away. Metal fingers cool your nipple, squeezing and pinching as you let out a gasp and cower from the touch. The hand fingers your chin, clicking as it curls against the chin and pulling eyes to his open.

He doesn't bother with words, instead closes the gap between both of you. Taste of yourself tangy on lips, a strong tongue parting lips as the shift of hips has his cock kissing your opening. He tests the waters, pushing forward for the bulbous head runs up and down and up again to touch the bundle of nerves that makes you moan under his mercy.

Tears of frustration prickle eyes but his tongue continues to messily run over every part of your mouth - the roof, the tongue, sucking lips purple and swollen - he can't get enough. It's torturous but soft, lips are kind and caring and considerating on the distraction for the moment.

"You're so beautiful, how'd I get so lucky?." He sounds drunk whispering against your lips, slurring and slow as flesh fingers knot the back of your hair to bring you deeper into his lips. "Can't get enough of you."

"Buck, need you." Wether he hears the words or completely ignores them, his tongue rolls over your own, sharp teeth catching the fat of your lip as his hips tut into yours. He's throbbing against your inner thigh, pre-cum mixed with your own arousal soaking the skin.

The small hand goes unnoticed as it slips down his hard stomach, following the trail of hair that leads to him. His lips are too busy, messy and wet as they move against your own. A hand wraps around his hardness, momentarily separating where you two meet, a small gasp parting lips.

His eyes flutter close as you pump him, pressing soft, gentle kisses against his shoulder. The skin is hot, and still tastes salty from his dream but the whisper of your name under his breath has you reaching forward, fingers at the base of his neck to bring him to your own lips.

You take this time to squeeze and he groans, unaware of your true intensions to push him off, hands against his chest to apply a force that's enough to knock him into his back.

Pretty blue eyes with soft alabaster skin, which flushes compared to the disholved light pink blanket that's fabric tightens under his body weight but never leaves your face, well maybe a second to watch you straddle his thighs, rub your aching pussy against this heavy length.

He doesn't fight as you lift yourself up, rubbing the throbbing head against your folds before slipping into the warm, wet hole with a hiss.

"Jesus, sweetheart." He groans, every inch sending a shock of pleasure up his spine but also stretching you so good it's intoxicating. Drunk on him, the way blue eyes beg you for more, bites his lip and smirks seeing just how ruined you already look.

Finally he's snug, not an inch left to move but you're so warm he doesn't know if he wants to, so you decide to for him. Pressing a hand against his chest for support, giving him an experimental roll that receives a deep breath, "That's it."

"Look good like this." Cool metal squeezes your left breast with his admittance as your hips finally find their rhythm.

Bucky flesh hand follow the lines of your stomach, over the roundness of your breast grab ahold of the posterior aspect of your deltoid, the other cool one is digging dents into the skin of your hip as another skillful roll of your hips has his head rolling back onto the ground.

His mouth hangs open, soft praises filling the air.

You're so good to me.

That's it honey, feel so good.

Eyes squeezed shut as small, sloppy kisses are felt against his neck. A set of teeth digging into the skin and something snaps. A snarl with teeth, fangs on full display as he uses his hand placement as an advantage to turn the pair of you. He pulls out with a hiss, angry and red but the hand against your back guides you to lay on your stomach. With a gentle but meaningful push pressing your cheek to the floor and keeps it there, his other hand curling around your hips to pull them towards him.

Without a word he splits you open again, easing himself until you're a withering mess, under the mercy of his hand which keeps your head grounded, the surface of the floor cool on contrast with the skin of your cheek. He doesn't waste any time, pulling out before trusting so deep you feel him in your stomach.

It doesn't stop, over and over again. Every ounce of frustration is felt as he sheths every inch of himself inside you. Brutal, almost painful but clouds your mind, barely can speak as his hips snap against your own.

He's taking it out on you, so lost in his pleasure he's temperily blind from why this even started in the first place, all he can concentrate on his how good and right you feel, the sound of your arousal every time he trusts into you, the way his name falls from your lips.

A small ache starts to form from the repeated force on your ischial but it's burns so good as he continues to split you open.

"Fuck..." He moans, "So good, sweetheart."

His hips are faultering and slowly loosing rhythm as he hears his end, the vibranium fingers squeeze your ass before pulling away and coming down to hard you see black and feel the rush of blood to that area makes you dizzy.

It's a sharp, searing heat that fills your stomach. Under his mercy as he claims you his, teeth scrape but his lips follow behind to soothe. A hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you towards him but his hips never stop, he's filling you with a brutal pace as your back makes contact with his swollen chest.

The hand wraps around the front now, squeezing the tender area of your neck and you're a mess, feeling his other hand press down on the bundle of nerves that makes you squeal, begging for more.

Arousal coats your legs, thank God he's holding you up because they're shaking, unsteady as he bottoms out inside you again. The bulbous head stretching you to no return, he changed the angle by flexing an knee for more force and you're done for.

Teeth nipping your ear, down the sensative skin of your neck that's already covered with all his love bites, soothing them with the warm surface of his tongue. Heavy breathing in your ear all you could hear as all your other sense dull out, falling limp in his arms.

It's numbing the way the orgasm hits you, blinding and all you can feel is a red hot release that bubbles your chest, makes you cry out for him. All you can hear is a moan in your ear, the "Good girl," as Bucky nears his end.

Almost seconds later, hips still against your ass, pressing harshly as white spurts coat your walls and follow with a small kiss against your shoulder.

He's breathing heavy, slowly lowering both of you on the floor but doesn't dare pull out, instead pulls you close to his chest, sensative and twitching.

He's breathless, but looking over your shoulder to see the closed mouth smile with an appearance of a dimple. "Thank you, baby doll. Feel better already."

His tongue clicks at the imprint of his hand on your cheek, red and on fire but due to the post organism haze you barely felt it. The outline of his fingers starting to rise off the skin, it would be there for a while. "I'm sorry." An apologetic kiss touches your arm, follows a trail up and to your back, soft breath fans your neck, "I was too rough, took it out on you."

Sleepily shaking your head with a goofy grin, "Was good, like it."

A hand cups your head, lifting it front the hard floor to place a pillow there and gently placing it there. The other rubs soothing circular motions over your ass check, with a small frown.

"Bucky, it's okay. I'm fine."

"Don't like hurting you, was too rough." He argues, guilt creeping at his shoulders, weighing then down aa avoids eye contact.

"I liked it." Despite your sore extremities you turn to face him, one hand comes up to cup his cheek, rub the high globes of his face and vibranium soon follows to cover yours. "You were not too rough, in fact, wanna give me a matching one on the other side?"

[sky-berrie]

Stitch - Damian

Summary: Another favorite trope - reader patches up a wound. Warning: mentions of blood. 

The window opened behind you and you felt a cool summer night breeze brush against your neck. You didn’t bother to give the intruder any attention because you knew that Damian was the only person who could disarm the alarm and crack lock mechanism with ease. You thought the whole system was overkill but it pleased Damian to have it installed so you didn’t complain.

“Hey, Damian,” you greeted him robotically with your gaze still transfixed to your laptop screen and your back to the window. You were watching the events of the latest episode of your favorite show unfold.

You heard Damian land in your room with a grunt. He was usually quite graceful, however you guessed that his ribs and hip were still sore from the last sparing session he had with his brothers and sisters. That family took everything to a whole other level.

You heard Damian shut the window after himself. The sound of the latch being secured came next. Then you heard electronic beeps as he reactivated the alarm. “You –” he let out a sharp exhale. “You took home economics, right?”

“Yeah,” you replied, nonchalantly with a mouthful of popcorn. You didn’t take your eyes off the screen, but you heard the sound of his heavy boots carry him across your room.

“Good,” he said. A shaky breath infiltrated his normally self-assured voice. “And you remember most of it?” The bed springs creaked under his weight.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Great,” he said. “What grade did you receive?” This wasn’t all that out of character for him. Damian was competitive in all aspects of his life. You wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to compare home economics grades just so he could vaunt his skills.

“I don’t know, Damian,” you said honestly. You turned up the volume, hoping that Damian would get the hint that you wanted to watch your show in peace and quiet. “I think it was a good mark.”

Damian let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Excellent.” His voice sounded less troubled than before.

“Jon did most of my assignments,” you admitted unapologetically.

Damian was quiet for a moment. “Okay, but you attended the classes, correct?”

You didn’t answer right away. You were too focused on the climax of the episode. “Oh my goodness,” you muttered under your breath to yourself as the plot twist unveiled. “Um,” you said, remembering that Damian had asked you something. “Yeah, yeah, more or less.”

“Do you remember how to sew?”

“Sort of,” you told him. You had sewn on a button once. It didn’t look great, but it definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

“Well enough,” he said. “I need you to suture a laceration.”

“What?” you choked out. He said it so nonchalantly that you weren’t sure if he was serious or not, because a sane person would not be so stoic. You whipped around to find Damian lying on your bed in his Robin uniform. It was soiled with a layer of black, like he had been charred. It was so dark that it masked the staining of his blood and you wouldn’t have known he was bleeding if it weren’t for the pool of red soaking through your white comforter. He was holding his side with his hands at an awkward angle.

You had seen him with cuts and bruises and even broken bones, but never with the life bleeding out of him. “Oh my goodness!” you shrieked as panic filled your lungs. Your face contorted into a horrified grimace as you tried to stifle an expression of disgust. The strong stench of metal made your stomach churn and your head woozy.

You immediately felt horrible for not paying attention to him sooner. “Damian, why didn’t you say something? Holy crap! What the hell happened? You need an ambulance!” You turned around to reach for your phone.

“No,” Damian choked out. “Secret… identity,” he said with his eyes squeezed shut.

“What about your brothers and sisters? Your dad? Alfred?”

“On their way. No time to wait. First aid kit,” he implored weakly.

You ran for the bathroom and tore into the cabinet to find the massive first aid kit that Damian insisted you store. You had opened it once or twice to grab a bandage for a paper cut but you never touched the majority of the contents. You didn’t even know what half of the kit was for. You guessed that you might find out today.

When you returned to your room, Damian was moving slowly to unbutton his uniform. You helped him with the rest, trying to do it quickly without jostling anything. You tried to ignore the squishy wetness of the uniform, but your hands came away covered in a layer of crimson blood. Beneath the outer coat, his white undershirt was seeping with blood. There was a large tear in the fabric and a bit of the raw wound peeked through.  

You didn’t have a fear of blood, really. You had no qualms about donating blood or seeing it on TV. This, however, was completely different. You were more terrified than you had ever been in your entire life. You had no idea what to do - everything you knew about CPR and standard first aid had inexplicably disappeared from your brain. Silent tears began to spill from your eyes as your breaths tore in and out of your throat, ragged and shallow.

“Y/N,” said Damian, firmly. Through your blurry, wet vision, you could see him straining to make eye contact with you. “Breathe. Everything is going to be fine. Just follow my instructions.”

Normally you trusted Damian, but this time his reassuring words didn’t have any kind of soothing effect on you. Your whole body was shaking now. You couldn’t find your voice. Instead, you shook your head.

“Yes, Y/N. It is going to be fine, but you must listen to me. Do you understand?”

You tried to take a deep breath, but an uncontrollable sob cut it short. If Damian could lie there halfway to death and still be composed, then you could at least pretend to be calm for his sake. You nodded your head this time, trying your best to even out your breathing. It was no use though. You couldn’t remember how to breathe.

“Thank you. Cut it,” he said, motioning to his undershirt.

You did as he ordered and cut a line right down the centre of his shirt. It was warm and wet and clung to his skin, so you peeled it off to reveal the full extent of a nasty looking wound. Even through your distorted, teary vision, you saw enough to know it was not good.

You felt faint at the sight of his insides. Or maybe it was your hyperventilating making you dizzy.  

“Breathe, Y/N. Breathe and then get the sterile solution to irrigate it.”

You returned with freshly washed hands, a pair of gloves and a jug of irrigation solution. Following his instructions, you squeezed the syringe and expelled the liquid over his wound. It ran down his side and carried even more blood into your comforter.

“Okay,” he breathed out. “There should be a small white packet with a curved need and thread and a pair of suture holders. They look like scissors but without the blades.”

Your trembling hands had a difficult time picking out the items. Once you collected the materials, you looked at Damian for further directions.

“It’s a bit deep so you’ll need to close the layer under the skin first. Can you see it?”

You shook your head. His side was a giant red mess. You couldn’t make out anything except for blood and jagged skin. It was nothing like the clean and clear-cut diagrams you’d seen in class. “This is crazy! I can’t do this,” you cried. People spent years studying and training to do procedures like this. Stitching up a body was not something that a person should wing, and definitely not on their best friend, lying in an unsterile room.

“You can,” he assured you. “Pretend like you’re sewing some fabric. Start with this layer here.” Damian pulled at his skin and pointed to the inside with a pair of suture forceps. You couldn’t help but turn away and shut your eyes as he prodded himself. “Y/N,” he called your attention back. “Make sure the needle goes in like this and comes out like this,” said Damian as he demonstrated.

You were shaking your head. “You are absolutely insane! Sewing fabric is nothing like sewing a wound! Can’t we just wait for your dad or someone?”

“No time,” he said.

“Please, Damian,” you begged. “Let me call EMS.”

“No,” he asserted with what little strength he had.

“Please! I…”

“No,” he repeated. You could tell his patience was wearing thin.

“I understand you have to protect your secret identity, but Damian, come on. There won’t be an identity to protect if you die.”

“Batman…Nightwing…” he said weakly.

“They’ll understand!” you argued with desperation.

“No,” he mumbled. He shook his head.

Without any thought, your next words came flooding out straight from your heart. “Damian, I love you and I don’t want you to die!” Oh. That came as a shock to you. You’d never said anything like that before. In fact, you’d never even had a thought like that, but you knew it was the truth. Your hands almost flew to cover your mouth in regret, but the blood dripping from your hands stopped you.

Damian didn’t seem to notice your confession, or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it. Had you not been utterly distracted by the emergency before you, you might have run away with embarrassment from your sudden proclamation.

“Please try for me, okay?” His eyes were starting to close, but you could see him struggle to keep them open.

You searched his eyes, to see that his once vibrant green eyes had a dull, hazy colour to them. Seeming to find what you were looking for, you conceded. You swallowed a lump in your throat. “Okay.”

It was the worst experience of your life. Damian walked you through the process, but nothing could prepare you for the nauseating feeling of piercing his skin and pulling the nylon thread through the thickness of the tissue. Seeing the inside of his body made you want to vomit but his life was at stake, and you had to be brave for him. Besides, he was the one who should be worried, not you. Your technique was obviously non-existent and you were certain that you were hurting him a hell of a lot more than he was letting on. He hissed and groaned and you apologized profusely but he insisted that you continue.

“Thank you,” said Damian after you tied the last knot. His eyes were heavy and lidded and you could tell he was barely hanging on to consciousness. “Knew you could do it.”

You had no response. Now that the worst part was over, the adrenaline had left your system and you were in shock. His hand lolled out in an attempt to offer you comfort, or maybe to seek comfort for himself. You weren’t certain which is was, but nevertheless, you instinctively clasped his hand in yours.

Then he said something that caught you off guard. His voice was so faint that you barely heard him. “For the record, I love you, as well.”

You weren’t sure if he really meant it. Maybe he was delirious. He did lose a lot of blood. You pondered it for a moment and wondered if you should feel mortally embarrassed when he was fully lucid, but just then, a gentle squeeze on your hand told you that you didn’t have to worry.

[bukojuiice]

— their wedding day with you.

ೃ pairings: (izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugo, shoto todoroki, x fem! reader)

ೃ  tags: headcanons, tooth rotting fluff

ೃ warnings:  none

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ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! it really helps writers and content creators on tumblr! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ after a million wedding videos and pinterest boards later, i’m excited to share with all of you my wedding hcs! these are short and a quick read so i hope you enjoy!  ♡

-  you and your fiancé, katsuki, were arguing over the venue and the theme of the wedding. he wanted it to be a simple ceremony. perhaps taking place at just a regular event place- whilst you wanted the venue to be at a beach. 

- it was a dream you had always wanted while innocently planning your wedding as a kid. so why not make it a reality?

-        The two of you peacefully decided on it over rock paper scissors. You won so… the beach wedding it is.

-        (Katsuki actually loved the idea of the beach wedding as much as you did. He just didn’t want to admit it.)

-        coral blue and oceana palettes, luscious palm trees swaying with the wind coming from the sea, the calming sound and view of the ocean, coral and shell designs hung everywhere, tables and chairs with little boho and aquatic inspired designs.

-        mitsuki bakugo insisted on making your wedding dress. you were overjoyed and deeply touched by her sweet gesture. As she wants the best for her beautiful and loving daughter in law after all.

-        The dress was one of the most angelic and heavenly gowns you have ever seen in your entire life. a long graphic lace gown with an open back and the edges of your white dress had frills like that of a mermaid tail. you wore a shell bracelet, to match with katsuki’s.

-        kirishima and kaminari jokingly dared bakugo to wear a tuxedo heavily inspired by the dc superhero, aquaman to keep the beach theme going. of course, katsuki ignored their suggestions and little jokes, opting for something of his usual style. his suit partially unbuttoned, tan rolled up-pants and matching shell bracelets with you.

- as you walk down the aisle, katsuki could not think of anything but the bursting feeling inside of him saying that this was it. this serendipitous event was going to signify the start of his life... his life with you.  

- your beauty and radiance was like that of a mermaid, your (h/c) hair flowing with the wind and the ocean was there as if practically glowing for you. whereas he felt like a mere pirate who could do nothing but watch you from afar as he sailed the shores.

- yet here you are, about to approach him, to finally begin this momentous event.

- the gentle mermaid fell in love with the aggressive pirate. how sweet.

- you insisted on playing songs from the little mermaid during your walk down the aisle and during the reception, sadly, katsuki disapproved of both. with a little convincing and a dozen of cute pouty faces later, he agreed to have someone play a romantic song. just one.

- the two of you decided on someone performing a beautiful rendition of “can’t take my eyes off of you” 

-        bakugo was about to cry while reciting his vows. Almost. He was totally going to shed some tears after the wedding ceremony, for only you to see, and before the two of you make your appearance at the reception.

- the wedding and the reception ends wonderfully as fireworks began to pop in the sky, colorful swirls as if they were coloring the sky, with one of the firecrackers even shaped as a heart. the reception continues with people dancing, and while your husband wasn’t one for festivities and dancing, he would give this day a pass as you bring him to the middle of the dance floor as the two of you dance the night away.

- “you’re just too good to be true...  Can't take my eyes off of you~ you'd be like Heaven to touch, i wanna hold you so much~”

-        shoto wants the most important day of his life to be reminiscent of a fairy tale as he wasn’t able to experience the wonder and the beauty of it as a child.

-        to keep the theme consistent, he rents out a quaint recreational woodland not far from the city.

-        he wants it to be perfect just for you especially since you’ve been dreaming of living a fairy tale for such a long time… and here you are now about to fulfill that dream.

-        the wedding starting at dusk, twinkling lights and garlands hanging around the trees, fairy lights sprawled about, blooming archways, lilac ash and sandstone pallets, long romantic banquet, and guests composed of his closest friends and family.

-        you’re dressed in a beautiful white (with pastel blue accents) floofy dress reminiscent of a fairy. embroidered with vines, satin flowers, and butterfly accents. instead of a veil, you’re wearing a flower crown decorated with pretty white daisies and leaves.

-        whilst shoto was wearing a suit reminiscent of peter pan. an exquisite blue suit with a peter pan lily as his boutonni��re.

-        As soon as he sees you walking down the aisle, tears were about to stream down from his cheeks.

- the whole todoroki fam are at the brink of tears too, as these were one of the very rare times they see the youngest todoroki with the biggest smile and most blissful look on his face. 

-        All of the guests stand up, each seat has one thin branch with attached handcrafted butterflies and fireflies for them to hold up and to illuminate your way to Shoto.

-        A musician strums their guitar and begins to sing “Can’t Help Falling In Love” by Elvis Presley.

-        He’s just beyond delighted to see you. As if flowers were blooming with every step you take, approaching closer and closer to him.

- “wise men say... only fools rush in... but I can’t help falling in love with you...”

-        You looked ethereal. Like a dawning light.

-        You continue to walk down the aisle, looking back at him. All the pure love and adoration you have visible in your eyes.

- midway through your vows, shoto couldn’t take it anymore and the tears just flowed down his face. you giggle lightly, the other guests were snickering along.  you bring him into a hug, kissing his tear-imprinted face as the two of you continue with the ceremony.

- It felt like an absolute dream. This was the best day of both of your lives after all.

-        “And they lived happily ever after.”

- you and izuku  just wanted a simple yet still fancy backyard wedding. 

- as the two of you wanted to spend most of your budget on traveling the world for your honeymoon trip instead.

- you could still make things absolutely beautiful and pleasing to look at after all. with your amazing teamwork and working on the planning together, you could manifest a delightful wedding. 

- there wasn’t a particular theme per se. both you and izu weren’t really ones to go into specifics anyway. you just wanted to replicate a very light and airy feeling that can be seen in most dreamy weddings.

-  string lights hung everywhere, a huge whimsical canopy was built up on the yard with two iridescent chandeliers hanging on the inside, draped fabrics and lush, interwoven greenery, mint and powdered colored accents, and a mini bar at the entrance.

- all of the heroes that izuku had known all his life were invited to the wedding. and of course, they wouldn’t miss it for the world. with practically everyone attending the #1 hero’s big day.

- with the help of the girls from class 1-a and after several hours of trying on the most beautiful dresses, your heart was set on an embroidered tulle and crepe white gown. instead of a veil, you opted for a  white crown headpiece, resembling that of a halo. 

- izuku on the other hand, at the behest of the boys of class 1-a, wanted him to wear something extravagant that could woo you. izuku disliked all the suits that they made him try out and instead went for a black suit jacket, dark blue dress shirt, and to complete the look, a cute little bow tie. 

- you walk down the aisle, holding a bouquet of flowers, your calming and ever so beaming presence felt like the light that he had been looking for all his life.

-  izuku could just stare at you lovingly like this if he could. he fights the tears welling up in his eyes, but he knows he’s going to break soon.

- and he does. as soon as he starts reciting his vows, izuku begins to weep. the genuineness and the love that you could hear from his voice and from the emotions he was showing right now made you feel so warm inside. 

- you hug him and squeeze both of his hands tight as he calmly yet emotionally goes through the entirety of his vow. 

- at the reception, inko and all might offer a special toast to you and izuku. their speech composed mostly of doting words and a lot of light-hearted “parent” jokes. 

- dekusquad + bakugo came up to the stage too to give their chaotic toast to the groom and bride, and the atmosphere and the mood became even more fun and lighthearted.

- as a surprise, you and izuku prepared a short musical number. the two of you were going to duet stand by me by ben e. king.

-  “when the night has come... and the land is dark... and the moon is the only light we'll see~ no I won't be afraid... oh, I won't be afraid. just as long as you stand, stand by me~”

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34​​ @sparkykatsuki​​ @ramunegoddess​, @serossimpy