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henneseyhoe · 8 months ago

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Daddy’s Money.

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader.

WARNINGS:lil bit of nasty smut, brief one sided relationship, lewis being pussy whipped, reader is heavily implied to be a gold digger(she is but shhhh! let her rock frl), daddy kink, money making reader hornayyy(me asf), not edited(idc rn i’m sleepy), there MIGHT be plot holes(again, i’m sleepy) and das it i think.

ps. also i’m ngl i wrote this halfway lazily, i just wanted to get back into writing sooo yeah.

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The arrangement was really an accident (at first). You were hired to fit and dress the man after practically begging for the job, needing the money to jump start your fashion career since your father had cut you off the month prior. It’d take nearly five years to do so, but with someone as easy going as lewis, time would fly fast.

Eventually he grew fond of you, and you of him..him a bit (a lot) more than you actually. Months after getting hired he began bringing you around for things that wasn’t about his style, things that someone would do for a budding romance. You didn’t mind either, it was working in your favor getting the extra hours to do nothing. You didn’t mean to snag a sugar daddy, a famous one at that, just like you didn’t mean to fuck him before the met gala, damn near making him late. It just…happened; Which is what you’d say to judgy bitches.

You also didn’t mean to point out that midnight black bag (and a few other things) you had been wanting when shopping for him the week after the met. Those things mysteriously showed up on your door step two days later to your surprise. You were beginning to think he was a little generous…so you tested something out.

“Ugh! Wouldn’t this look so good on me?”

You pout as you held the designer dress up to your body. It was originally intended to go to another woman they paired him with for an event, but seeing it up against you instead was all he had to see before he told his assistant to inform the woman she’d be wearing something else. In awe, you proceeded to wear that dress to the event that night, easily gaining eyes from guests and earning yourself a name as Lewis’s “sexy ass stylist” online when the pictures taken of you went viral.

Later on that night the dress was being ripped apart from the back and thrown to the floor by you know exactly who, him doing everything in his power to get to what was underneath.

You couldn’t tell if your pussy was good or if he was just that whipped for you after that night. Either way, you were having fun.

Before you could snap your fingers, whatever you were THINKING of wanting was at your fingertips. He had more money than he could spend, and you had no problem helping him find what to do with it! It was only fair, ya know, for his sake.

The first time you realized he was really wrapped around your little iced out finger was the last time you had wanted for anything for long.

“I could have anything I want? seriously??”

You looked to him in shock, the man shrugging as he debated on a pair of versace shoes. “Have at it, love” He responded simply with a quick endearing smile to you before waving over an assistant to help you. You felt like a kid in a candy store.

^Also the last time you referred to him as anything other than daddy when not in public, (or at least not noticeably to others in public).

He was liquid when you called him that. soft putty in your hands, ready for you to shape him into anything you desired.

“Come on, daddy. Don’t you wanna see your name in diamonds on me? Don’t you wanna mark me? claim me?”

You taunted him in a seductive tone as you rolled your hips onto him. You flipped your hair to one side of your shoulder so you could look back at the work you were putting in, Lewis staring back at you with hearts in his eyes and his bottom lip tucked into his mouth. Both of y’all’s jeans were halfway down with your pretty brown ass perched up for him to see the tip of his long dick teasingly slide between your lips and into your honey coated walls repeatedly. He was right there on the edge, you could feel it and you hadn’t even sat all the way down on him yet.

Really it was either say yes to the chain or be left to make himself cum, he understood that completely. As he nods eagerly in agreement, you plopped your plump self down into his lap and he came as fast as police in white neighborhoods.

By the seventh month of being together your closet was every woman with a fashion sense dream. Designer galore (and not the ugly shit neither). He got you designs that wasn’t on racks yet but straight off a runway, things that fit perfectly to YOUR body. (Seeing that he was getting to know it so well..He could probably draw a map of you with just his damn tongue.)

You began getting way more noticed by his fans and friends, not only for suddenly having a thing for wearing expensive clothes and jewels, but for also being close with Lewis. Dating rumors had started to run amuck. The first plan was to deny, deny, deny but it was hard to do that when you were wearing his name on your neck, hiding the chain under your shirts or wearing it backwards so no one would see the name plate.

But the chain wasn’t what caused the dam to break. It was when you posted bags and gifts with flowers, a card attached that had a heartfelt and flirty handwritten poem on it, forgetting to even scribble out his name. Fans and close friends were on the fence, some of his associates madder than an ant colony in the rain and some fans confused on where the hell you even came from and where you got off on gold digging. The clothes and jewelry were finally starting to make sense and you gave the saying “Look like money” a new meaning.

Lewis was quick to come to your defense in interviews, you had never seen anyone get so nice nasty or petty in your honor. He was witty and quick with comebacks, his polite tone masking rude comments at any interviewer that dared to have an opinion about you that he didn’t like. He made sure as everything went on online and your name trended for the second time that week that you didn’t lack reassurance ever.

“Look in the mirror and let daddy know who’s it is”

He pulls you by your braids up to the direction of the reflecting headboard, your back pressed against his chest as his hips met your ass with a hard smack. After hours of pleasurable “reassurance” there wasn’t a spot inside you that his dick didn’t hit, a place on you that his tongue didn’t lick. The chain you had asked for a bit ago clinked freely against your chest and a fucked out evil smile grew on your face as you look him in the eyes through the mirror. “It’s yours, daddy. you know it’s all yours” You would reply before your walls gushed around his dick.

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Fans who prayed on your downfall weren’t so happy when they got the news that you two married two years later in Greece. The wedding was private, but it was no secret that a fortune was spent and that didn’t make the gold digging comments better. (Even though your father paid)

Those comments followed you into your fashion brand era and though you chose to be mysterious about private life and yourself in general, (for obvious reasons) you felt it was only right to defend your honor at least once.

Like the great actress you were, you did what white women around him had been doing to you since the beginning and threw on the waterworks, crying in front of any watchful eye when the rumors were brought up with your amazing husband by your side comforting you immediately. How dare they say such things about THEE Lewis Hamilton’s wife?? THEE Y/N Hamilton???

Your newly grown fan base called it blasphemy. There wasn’t an online blog on beyoncé’s internet that went untouched when having something to say about you. Everything they said was untrue! You had your own money, your own brand, (funded by your husband) and your own name.

“They’re so mean to me”

You pout as Lewis carefully takes off your heels and kisses the top of your feet before standing and caressing your cheek. “You know how the media is, and I know nothing they say about you is true. I’ll have my team take care of it, okay?” He reassured and you smile, mentally noting to suck his dick before bed. As if you were rewarding a dog for jumping through a hoop, being soft and on your side at all times was Lewis’s hoop, and he had better jump through every. single. time.

To be fair, there may have been some superficial motives behind the building of this relationship (on your side at least) but he genuinely did grow on you, and that was before you knew he was a trick, that part just made it deeper.

You were in shock when he asked you to marry him originally, so much so that you refused the first time because it scared you. You avoided him for an entire week and refused to go to work until you realized you had grown so accustomed to being around him that you could barely function. Apart from the fact that you were opening doors by yourself and eating dinner alone, you hadn’t noticed how much you liked talking to him, being with him and simply in his presence.

Materials aside, you loved him, you were in love with him. Infatuated just as much as he was with you by now and you came too long of a way to be scared off.

In reality you telling him no wasn’t gonna stop him from perusing. He knew you were gonna be his wife for a long time now and nothing was gonna get in the way of him finding you (and he kinda duped you with the whole falling for him thing anyway because he knew what half of your motives were and played his role well), you just found him first and made him pop that question again, which that time you happily said yes to.

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#henneseyhoe #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black!reader #black reader #black!fem!reader #masterlist #black!oc #lewis hamilton x black female oc #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton

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prettieinpink · 1 year ago

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Wardrobe Essentials Guide !!

This is only a guide- you don’t need everything I list. This is just to help people build their dream wardrobe sensibly without over or under consuming or to recognize what they may want/need.

Solid colour does not mean there can be no pattern on your clothes!! It just means avoid shapes, text, pictures etc on your clothes!!

Before purchasing ANYTHING ask yourself these 3 questions!!

How can I style this?

Is there an opportunity cost?

Will I still be able to wear it in 3+ years, even if my style changes?

TOPS

2 solid colour long sleeve tops

2 solid colour short sleeve tops

2 solid colour tank top

2 solid colour cami top

2 underneath ‘layers’ tops

1 athletic wear top

1 white button up ( make it as plain as possible)

2+ graphic tee of your choice ( for funsies )

1 cute bodysuit of your choice

1+ knitwear solid colour top

3+ statement piece tops of ur liking

BOTTOMS

1 good pair of jeans you like

2 leggings solid colour!!!

2 sweatpants

2 track shorts

2 basic long pants solid colour ( for going out more formally/extra)

2 biker shorts solid colour

1 cargos pants solid colour

1 denim shorts

2 mini skirts ( or longer )

1 midi/maxi skirt

1 pencil black skirt ( formal events )

1 athletic wear bottoms

3+ statement pieces of your liking

DRESSES / FULL BODY

1 black mini dress (trust me)

1 solid colour maxi dress

1 solid colour mini dress

1 solid colour jumpsuit (short or long)

1 solid colour 2 piece outfit

1+ statement pieces of your liking

OUTERWEAR

1 white cardigan ( can be cropped)

1 black cardigan ( can be cropped)

2 solid colour zip up jackets

2 solid colour sweaters

1 solid colour puffer jacket

1 solid colour blazer

1+ statement piece of your liking

SLEEP/LOUNGEWEAR

1 cute pair of summer pjs

1 cute pair of winter pjs

2 sleeping tops

2 sleeping bottoms

1 satin OR cotton robe

2 cute loungewear sets

UNDERWEAR & BRAS

2 your skin colour t-shirt bras

2 solid colour sport bras

1 black t-shirt bra

1 white t-shirt bra

2+ your skin colour bikini underwear

2+ your skin colour slip underwear

2+ solid colour hipster underwear

2+ solid colour classic underwear

1+ maxi underwear

OTHER AKA OPTIONAL

1 cute swimwear set

1 cute activewear set

SHOES

1 plain white sneakers ( can be chunky)

1+ white sneakers with statement colours

1 cute pair of ugg boots

1 nude pair of heels of your choice

1 white pair of heels of your choice

1 black pair of heels of your choice

1 white OR black boots

1 black, nude OR white pair of loafers

1 pair of solid colour sandals OR FLATS

2+ statement pieces of your choice

BAGS

1 black shoulder OR crossbody

1 white shoulder OR crossbody

1 brown shoulder OR crossbody

1 solid colour tote bag ( not the shopping ones)

1 solid colour clutch

1 solid colour backpack

JEWELLERY ( ALL ARE EITHER SLIVER OR GOLD YOU CAN CHOOSE )

small OR big hoops

5 cute studs

5 dangling earrings

2 necklaces

4 rings

4 bracelets

1 good quality watch

APPAREL ACCESSORIES

2+ black belts

2+ solid colour scarves

1+ solid colour gloves

1+ solid colour beanies

2+ solid colour hats of ur liking

2+ apparel chains

2+ solid colour sunglasses

Andddd thats it lovelies!!! Reminder to spend and consume responsibly, don’t shop fast fashion please!! Clothes suck and its so bad for the environment. Is there anything that you think I should add to this list, or anything to remove and why? Also if you don’t know why something is on this list, ask me pls!!!!

Should I make an skincare or make up bag essentials guide next ???

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jarofstyles · 1 year ago

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Cerulean

Here it is! Indigo part 2… even years later lol. after literal years... we are continuing with it. If you're unfamiliar, here is part one.

I hope you enjoy our new(ish) babies.

Check out our Patreon!

warnings- mention of anxiety, tattoos, tooth rotting fluffy babies, miscommunication

WC- 4.2k

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Y/N stared nervously at her phone. Harry’s contact was up in the bubble, her first message to him sitting unsent on the screen.

He had actually given her his number. He said that he would talk to her about his tattoos and his shop and he had said she could call him H, which- Gah! She wanted to squeal when she had woken up and remembered it all. The headache had been gnarly, but she recalled most of the night very vividly. How Harry had taken charge and told the man bothering her off, how he had admitted that she intimidated her somehow because he thought she was pretty and his glaring wasn’t because of hatred- it was nerves, anxiety and trying to figure out how to talk to her.

He’d placed her number into his phone under a simple letter, H, and promised to text him later.

Did the next day qualify as later?

It was almost noon and she had sent off a few emails to her publisher that was working with her on one of her fashion articles, trying to waste time to not seem overly eager. Washing the dishes, switching her laundry, even taking her cat for a walk(unconventional but Nibbles had been a street kitten, he liked to go outside), even taking a full body shower with the shaving and the deep hair mask. Her headache had faded to an dull throb with the help of a tylenol, and she was now ready to bite the bullet.

Y/N: Hiiii :D It’s Y/N.

Y/N: Hope I’m not bugging you but I was thinking about finally getting a tattoo. I had some questions and I figured you’d be perfect to ask.

It wasn’t a lie. Y/N really had been considering a tattoo and asking Harry, though she had been planning on going to him anyway out of courtesy before she had gotten the whole ‘i think he hates me’ thing cleared up. She’d never go to a different artist if she could support someone in the friend group. Now it was an exciting thing for her, a giddiness in her stomach rising when she saw the three dots in the texting bubble showing that he was replying.

Hm. He didn’t have his read receipts on. Interesting.

A response popped up quite quickly after sending her message.

H: Hi. You aren’t bugging. Come down to the shop, it’s slow today.

Y/N nearly choked on her lemonade. He wanted her to come? Today?! Her bare foot tapped anxiously against the carpet as she blinked at her phone screen, trying to find the right words to respond. She didn’t want to bother him or annoy him, even though he had said she wasn't’ bugging', the girl was still a bit nervous. Last night she had called him super cool and said she wanted to spend time with him alone but she had to wonder if she was brave enough to do it so soon.

Y/N: Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a bother or anything.

His response came just as fast as the last. Did he have his phone screen open or something?

H: You aren’t. I’m doing paperwork so I don’t mind.

H: Can you bring me a coffee? I’ll venmo you.

She felt a laugh bubble from her throat as she looked at the messages. She hadn’t said yes but he was most definitely telling her to get her ass over there if she read between the lines. Considering it was a weekend, she had no excuse not to. Besides her nerves, she didn’t have one either. She liked Harry. She thought he was really cute and mysterious and he was polite when he spoke last night and something about him had her so intrigued. The girl knew she would kick herself if she didn’t go, so that’s how the decision was made.

Y/N: Sugar or cream? Do you do a latte or something fancy? Frappichino?

H: Black, please. Cold foam on top. Thanks xx

—-

Harry knew he was being awfully presumptuous but he also knew himself.

It was now or never.

Last night he had finally found his balls and spoken to the cute little thing. Granted, it took him standing up for her against a creep, but he had still done it. Y/N was coming to the nearly empty shop to talk about a tattoo, what he knew would be her very fucking first, and he was so nervous he could probably vomit if he thought about it too long.

He had always been known to be an intimidating man. He was littered with dark swirls of ink on his skin, piercings on his nose and eyebrow-and some other not so visible places-, he was pretty tall and broad shouldered and he was said to have what Niall loved to call a ‘bitch face’. His hair was longer, needing a cut as it was falling into his face, and he had his moody demeanor which tended to scare people off. Even as a teenager, pre tats and everything, he had sat quietly behind his friends while he observed and was able to keep prying people away with a simple quirk of the brow.

While that intimidating air worked wonders for getting annoyingly nosy people to fuck off and to get laid every once in a while by a girl who wanted a night with a ‘bad boy’, -words said by 2 of them, not himself- he sure as fuck didn’t want Y/N to think of him that way.

Y/N was just… She was his opposite in every way and he really, really liked it. Soft curved features as opposed to his own hard ones, a gentle glow to the eyes instead of his hardened glimmer. She had a sweet, bubbly voice that made him hang off her every damn word when he got the privilege to go out when she was there. She had called herself a fucking cinnamon roll, and she had been right. Sweet and fluffy and coated in sugar. Something he’d fucking love to taste, given the chance.

That would be a bit down the line considering Y/N wasn’t the type of girl he’d want to hook up with. She was the girl that he’d want his Mum to meet. She was the breakfast in bed, flowers every week, buy pretty dresses for type of girl. Every woman deserves that, but for him? Y/N was that exact type. He hooked up with girls that he knew he wouldn’t get attached to. Quick fucks at their place, bar bathrooms, cars. He didn’t let them inside his world because he knew what he wanted.

He’d dated before, had his heart broken a small handful of times to know what he wanted and what he didn’t. Hopefully he’d be able to sniff out some more about Y/N that he hadn’t found out through the social gatherings, grapevines and checking out her social media. She made cute little videos of her outfits almost every day on her instagram story that he watched when he had the chance. She had a cat as well. She liked pastel colors and drank a lot of tea and lemonade. She liked the pink starbursts best- he knew just from the exposure he’d gotten. The itch to gather more information had hit him hard.

Thankfully she was coming to see him today and he could stop being such a pussy. Face her alone and talk to her face to face. She was too nice to judge him if he stuttered or said the wrong thing, at least not outwardly.

He’d hoped she would text today, hoped he’d have an excuse to see her. His outfit had a bit more effort than his other ones. Sticking with all black because spilled ink was an absolute bitch to get out, if not impossible, he chose his favorite black jeans with the holes in the knees, frayed strings something to pick at when he was bored. On top he wore a black button up with little roses as buttons, left open down to his mid chest. Maybe it was slutty, but he liked to show off the ink he had. It was something he was proud of. His necklaces hung down mid chest, the silver chains and pendants slightly tangled now that he had taken a look, but it sort of worked.

He had been mid inspection when he heard the door bell jingle and the receptionist greet Y/N.

Y/N was a bit shocked at just how nice it was when she walked in. Outside she had seen the neon light in the window and the sign up above, already impressed, but it got better when she walked inside. The red and black tattoo shop had an edgy vibe. As she stepped inside, she was greeted by the checkered floors that give off a retro feel. On the left-hand side, there was a flash wall littered with a plethora of designs, featuring different what she assumed were the tattoo styles of each artist who worked out of the shop.

As she walked towards the reception desk, Y/N noticed it was made of thick dark wood and had a glossy finish and a smiling dark haired receptionist sitting behind the desk. Black frames on the side wall showed off their business license and framed newspaper articles about the shop. Obviously it had raving reviews. Y/N felt a bit guilty for not knowing, but proud of him. Obviously it was a well respected show.. Behind the desk, there was a glass cabinet displaying various jewelry for piercings and shop merchandise. She wondered if she could buy one of the hoodies or tee shirts to support him? Oh, maybe a tote bag. That was definitely something she would use. She’d always liked the little logo. It was a bit of a surprise to her that she’d never seen him wear any of it before, only on his instagram.

Maybe he didn’t want random people talking to him about tattoos when he was out?

Greeting the receptionist, she let her eyes wander around. There seemed to be rooms for tattooing and piercings down a long hallway, some thick black, crushed velvet curtains that can be drawn closed for privacy. Convenient. At least they cared about that. Some of the ones she had looked at online pre-Harry had the bare minimum.

“Hi! Did you have an appointment?” The girl behind the counter was dressed in what she could tell was retro clothing, a slightly off the shoulder red top and a string of chunky pearls around her neck. Her hair was done up so neatly that Y/N had been instantly jealous. She had never been good at doing updos, nor did she look good with that sort of poof, but she wished she did. Her bright red lipstick would be a lot during the day for someone else, but on her? It worked. Y/N was a little intimidated already. She seemed really cool just by looking at her.

“N-No, uh, Harry told me to come-”

“She’s here for me, Liz.” Harry’s voice interrupted her own. Y/N turned around, tray of coffee in hand and a brown paper bag in the other. “This is Y/N. She’s cool.”

Cool? He thought she was cool too. Y/N felt herself flush under her clothes, swallowing thickly as he sauntered over and took the tray from her hands. “Thanks for this, gorgeous. Forgot to get new coffee for the machine.”

Y/N felt like she was having a bit of an episode. Gorgeous? He had called her gorgeous and walked over to her so confidently, as if his nerves that had gotten him to make her think he hated her had disappeared. Perhaps it was because he was in his own domain, his element. Thankfully, Liz had kept her from having to respond right away.

“Oh, sick.” She smiled up at her from her swivel chair. “Harry never has his friends here. Besides the ones who work here and Niall, but he always leaves a mess in the break room. It’s nice to see a new face. You’re really pretty.”

Y/N had to admire the confidence she carried. She was so pretty and could easily talk to people, joking with her already as if they were friends for years. “Thank you, you are as well.” She replied, the compliment making her feel even more flustered. “Niall is very good at leaving messes, I’m afraid.” That’s something she knew first hand. “I don’t have any tattoos yet so uh, Harry offered to talk to me about it.”

“Virgin skin! How exciting.” Liz chirped, twirling her straw around. “Honestly, Harry’s a great artist, perfect for a first timer if you can ignore the mean mugging. He’s super gentle and has the best lines I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N had to smile. Of course he was good. A glance at him had her observing the slight pink in his cheeks as he narrowed his eyes at Liz, who to her credit, didn’t seem phased. He was slightly embarrassed at the attention on him but still happy that she had talked him up.

Harry would be heartbroken if he scared her off of tattoos, but he tried to be a good artist with everyone. Perhaps he wasn’t super talkative but most of his clients were veteran ink people with loads already on their skin. They knew to sit quietly or listen to the music, or bring a friend to chat with so he could do his damn job.

“Anyways.” Harry cleared his throat. “Mitch’s appointment just pulled into the lot. Y/N and I are going into the office, scream if you need me.” His nod to follow her was brief, Y/N holding on to her handbag for dear life as his long legs carried him down the hallway at a much faster pace that she usually did. Thankfully she was able to hide how winded the quickness of the long hallway had made her once he opened his office door.

The floors were hardwood in his office. He had his own black desk, a black leather couch with a red acrylic coffee table and a shelf full of books. Windows from behind the desk gave it decent lighting. It was clean in here, cleaner than Y/N had ever kept her own office.

“Sorry about that.” He murmured to her, setting the coffee down on the smooth red table. “She’s really overly friendly. Great for customers but a bit nosy.” He walked towards his desk to grab his iPad and stylus, slightly flustered when the white thing fell back on the desk. His nerves were most definitely showing. Turning around he was ready to keep talking, but he was met by her body halfway across the room to look at some of his old framed flash sheets he had on the far wall.

“These are so cool, Harry.” She said quietly, eyes scanning the designs. “And you just thought of all these off the top of your head?” Turning herself to face him, she watched as he gave her a tiny bit of a smile. Still pink in the cheeks, which soothed her own nerves a little. His confidence at first had made her a tad bit scared that she was the only one stressing out about it, but he was obviously affected just as much.

“Erm… some of them. I use some reference pictures, get inspired by other works and change it so it’s my own. A lot of it is things I randomly get ideas for, though.” He rubbed his knuckle over his chin. “I work with a lot of clients who already have ideas and wants so the perimeters are more strict, so with flash it’s more of what I want to do. People who get them have a say in color and size but usually it’s a pre-printed stencil.” He explained, crossing his arms as he approached her.

She smelled really good. Was that a weird thing to think? Maybe. But it was true. He was hyperaware of everything right now, trying his best to not put his leather boot into his mouth and fuck up. There was genuine approval on her face, getting closer to the frames to scope out details and truly admiring each one. “Are these the retired ones, your favorites? Why are they stuck back here instead of with the ones out front?” Inquisitive eyes met his own.

“These are ones I’ve already done. I don’t do a ton of flash anymore because I’m usually booked for customs.” His own eyes took in the old flash sheets. Each design was something he had loved creating, but the time for them had passed. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to remember them, though. “But all of these were claimed by people when we had flash events. I don’t think it’s bad to have similar tattoos as other people but I tend to not do the same thing twice. I had gotten really sick of doing the same infinity signs and hearts and roses when I was an apprentice at the first shop.” God, he was glad that trend was over. Mostly. “There’s nothing inherently wrong with hearts or roses, s’just repetitive and I like to do stuff that challenges me. Y’know?” He turned to look at her, finding her already staring up at him. That stupid flutter moved around his stomach again.

“Oh, I can imagine. I’m really glad I didn’t get the tattoos I had on my pinterest board. I had it growing from like… 2013 to 2017 and all of them now seem very…” She rolled her lips together as she tried to politely find the word for cringe. “Not me. It’s actually why I haven't gotten anything yet.” Arms wrapped around herself, feeling a bit insecure about it. Here was this beautiful tattoo artist, in talent and looks, and she was telling him about her pinterest board of tattoos. He must be internally rolling his eyes because he did a good job of keeping a soft smile on his lips. Was it even legal for men to have lips that pretty and deep pink? Maybe it was just unfair. “I wanted to wait until I felt ready.”

“That’s a really good thing to do.” Harry was proud of her for that. Smart girl. Leaning against the side of his desk, he kept his arms crossed as he continued to talk. “You don't know how many people get impulsive tattoos as their first and regret it later. Now.. m’not one to judge because I’m fuckin’ littered in dumb ones, but I always think of it as a memory. Even if its’ a memory of being a dumbass.” His heart fluttered when he got a giggle out of her. Fucks sake, he was pathetic. “Removal is possible but not at all fun. Got a few mates and some clients who got their old ink taken off and it isn’t pleasant. Waiting is the smartest thing to do if you’re someone who thinks you could possibly regret it.”

Y/N didn’t strike him as an impulsive person. Every time he had seen her, she had seemed pretty put together. Though she could seem a little chaotic, it was an organized chaos that he had always liked. Harry, despite his impulse with tattoos when he was young and tipsy in his partying stage, liked to be a controlled person. Sometimes it was too much, which led to the anxiety he had. It was part of the reason he had such a hard time talking to Y/N at first.

She was so cute and so sweet and Harry wanted their conversations to be perfect. He had a track record of saying dumb things or at the very least, not saying them how they were meant when he was nervous. Usually his anxiety was hidden very well. He didn’t get it when it came to clients or tattoos or anything work related, but in his personal and social life? It was rampant. That was part of the reason he had quit drinking. That was a story for a different time, though.

“Yeah, I really don’t want removal.” Her nose scrunched a bit like a bunny, making his heart stutter in his chest. Cute little thing, she was. “That’s why I wanted to come to you.” There was a slight pause. “I was going to come to you even when I thought you hated me. I’d never want to support a different shop when someone in my circle is talented and has their own business.”

That hurt him a little. Even when she was under the impression that she hated him and was glaring at her, that he had made her uncomfortable, she had planned on supporting him anyways? What sort of fucking angel was she? He winced visibly at the reminder of her original thoughts. He had massively fucked up with that. What an idiot he had been. His nerves had gotten the best of him yet again.

“Y/N, I truly am sorry that I came across that way. It’s not the case, nor has it even been.” He swallowed, looking down at her hands that were clasped together. She was rocking on her heels and he could tell she had probably not wanted to bring that up, but he was glad she did because it did need to be properly addressed while she was 100% sober. “What I said last night is the truth. You just… y’make me a little nervous and I don’t like that I had no idea what to say to you.” She had come into their little friend group and been so fucking adorable, so kind and ready to take someone home if they needed, buy them a drink, talk about her little fashion brand deals. Y/N listened to everything people said, she would find the eyes of a person who had been drowned out by other conversation and encourage them. The best sort of person. “I don’t do well with people I think are pretty, people I think are sweet. S’a little intimidating for me.”

Y/N still didn’t know how that worked, but she could imagine that it must have been weird for him. She couldn’t see how she of all people could be considered intimidating but it made her a little giddy that Harry had found her to be pretty and sweet. It had been the complete opposite of what she expected to be the reason. “Well, thank you. For thinking I’m pretty and sweet, that’s- that’s really nice.” Her eyes fell down while she couldn't keep the smile off her face. “I thought maybe I’d done something like… I dunno, I get kinda touchy and gooey when I’m drunk. I asked everyone if I had accidentally said something or hung on you the first night and didn’t remember meeting you but they’d said no.” That was one of the downfalls of Y/N drunk. She loved to spread love and give cuddles and hugs. Sometimes she didn’t think twice and that had caused her friends to keep her wrangled in their grasp.

“No, no. I wouldn’t have minded any of that.” Harry realized what he had said but continued talking. “It was just me being nervous. I just wanted to apologize again cause I hate to think that you were upset about it at all… n’then…” He rolled his head back to look at the ceiling for a moment. “I feel shitty that you were going to come to me for a tattoo even after I was a dick. Even if I didn’t realize it then. You’re just a really good person.” He looked back down to see Y/N giving him a tiny smile, stepping closer to him. “Fuck, I’m rambling. Sorry.”

“No! No, it’s okay. I uh..” Another pause was paired with a pink tongue peeking out to lick her lips that Harry paid a bit too much attention to for his own good. “It’s just nice to hear you talk. You’re always so quiet but you’ve got a nice speaking voice. I like it.”

Harry wanted to scream, actually. He wanted to groan and drop his head into her sweet smelling neck and do god knows what, because that compliment made him feel really flattered and flustered. Y/N just had that fucking thing about her, this weird trait that he couldn’t quite describe that made him feeling like he was a schoolboy all over again being paired up with his crush for an assignment. How lucky was he? She had wanted his art on her forever.

“Thanks.” His response was slightly shy, looking back up at her with the pink tint still on his cheeks. He knew the back of his neck was probably flushed too.

“No problem.” Another slight pause where neither of them knew how to proceed followed but, this time neither seemed to particularly mind. Deciding to move it on so he didn’t have to look uncomfortable anymore, Y/N shot him another one of those smiles before moving back towards the coffee table, grabbing her cup from the cardboard tray. “So. Let’s talk about designs.”

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averagedemoenjoyer · 11 months ago

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CW: THIS POST CONTAINS BLOOD MENTIONS (PERIOD STUFF BASICALLY) AND NSFW (17+ only for that section pls)

this is very self indulgent bc i just got my period and i’m really sad bc of it soooo :3

sniper with a s/o thats on their period!!

(afab reader obviously, gender neutral tho)

—🫙—

SFW

he does actually know what a period is since his mum explained it to him after his dad gave him “the talk”

this is because he asked if people did it all the time, and his mum responded with “well, not really.” she then proceeded to explain the menstrual cycle to him

that being said, hes usually pretty good with dealing with periods. he’s had some girlfriends in the past and he was pretty good at dealing with periods then. he struggled a bit with his first girlfriend but he figured it out

he usually doesn’t like cooking meals, like he usually sticks to just barbecuing stuff. but if you’re craving it? he’ll 100% make it. what’s even better is if you’re craving something that he can buy from the shops or order and have delivered

refuses to let you do ANYTHING that too requires movement, not even small stuff like grabbing the tv remote. if you do have to get up and go to the toilet or shower, he’s carrying you over there

if you want something, he’ll go grab it for you. and i mean it. anything you want, he’ll go out of his way and grab it for you. a blanket, a snack, something to cure your boredom. basically if you get your period, you’ve earned yourself a servant for a week

one essential that he will ALWAYS get for you is a heatpack. it apparently helped his mum a bunch when she got her periods so ever since getting found out about it, he’s gone out of his way to make sure there is at least 2 heatpacks in his van. not even just for periods, any kind of cramp really. (pyro offered to heat one up once, but didn’t understand that heatpacks are heated up via a microwave and not actual flames)

if he’s not busy, he’ll snuggle up behind you and watch some tv. he’ll do all that good old fashioned kissing your head, nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck, playing with your hair. all that jazz

(nsfw under the cut)

—🫙—

NSFW

i know some people headcanon that sniper would like period sex. and while i agree, i feel like he would only do it under certain circumstances (those being; if you’re okay with it, if your cramps aren’t that bad, if he’s got a condom on him at the time, stuff like that)

if you DO end up doing it, he’ll go a lot slower than usual. he’s kinda scared that he’ll make your cramps worse, so even if you REALLY want him to go fast, he won’t go too fast unless he’s about to cum. as much as it kills him to do it this way, your comfort comes first.

also wouldn’t mind fingering you, but again he does it slowly, just to avoid giving you worse cramps. the same goes for eating you out.

if he’s the one that got hard first and you’re NOT ok with receiving anything sexually while on your period, he’s always open for you to give him head. hell he ENCOURAGES it. he would get you in a position that you are comfortable in and let you go at it, with or without cramps. if not, he’ll just jerk off either next to you or in another room

in general when it comes periods and sexual stuff, he’s really all about your comfort (he’s like that even when your off your period, but it’s higher when you’re on it) unlike other mercs… ahem scout-

nsfw section done

—🫙—

again, thank you so much for reading all the way thru!!

i apologise for not posting for a while, i haven’t been doing too well mentally for the past couple of months, but i’m doing a lot better now and i should be getting to the requests soon since i’ve now graduated! so stay tuned for that and have an awesome day/night! also requests are still open, so make sure to read my pinned to see my dos and don’ts.

#averagedemoenjoyer #team fortress 2 #team fortress 2 x reader #tf2 headcanons #tf2 writing #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #sniper tf2 #tf2 sniper #team fortress sniper #sniper x reader #sniper x you #mick mundy #mr mundy

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ravencoloredroses · 1 year ago

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Twenty One Questions

Nyx x Reader

Summary: Nyx and Reader have been on a couple of dates, but they don’t really know much about each other.

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 2,013

——————————————————————————

Most of the first dates I’ve ever been on ended poorly. Either the guy was a total creep with a foot fetish or he was way out of my league and knew it, both options never lead to a second date. The first second date I ever had was with Nyx. It was a complete shock to me when he first asked me out, he was just so fucking handsome. Walking into the restaurant to meet him, I thought he was going to be exactly like the other guys I went on dates with… I could not have been more wrong.

At the end of our first date he asked if he could walk me home. I normally would have said no, but I didn’t get any indication that Nyx had bad intentions, so I said yes. When we reached my house, he didn’t try to kiss me, instead he held my hand and looked me in the eyes as he asked, “When can I see you again?”

Now I’m getting ready for our third date, but Nyx wouldn’t tell me where we are going. He did tell me to dress casually, so I just picked out a pair of jeans and a sweater. I hear a knock at the door and rush downstairs to answer it. Nyx is smiling from ear to ear while holding a shopping bag full of snacks and balancing an assortment of pillows and blankets “Nyx! What is all this?” I ask, stepping aside to let him in. He’s laughing as he passes me.

“This is our date tonight!” He says excitedly while setting his things down on the couch. He’s wearing loose sweat pants and a simple cotton t-shirt. A striking contrast from his normal fashion. When his hands are finally free, I throw my arms around him for a hug. We haven’t actually kissed yet, so a hello hug is fine for now. “I told you to dress comfy.” He takes a step back to examine my outfit. “Jeans are not comfy.” He pouts.

“Tell you what. Why don’t you set up whatever it is you brought all these for... ” I gesture to the mountain of pillows. “While I go change.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Nyx laughs while he watches me scurry up the stairs to change. I practically sprint over to my closet and take off my jeans to replace them with my favorite pair of leggings. I decide to keep my sweater on because it was kinda chilly downstairs.

When I hurry back to the living room I pause on the stairs. Nyx has drug the dining room chairs in and placed blankets overtop of them to create a fort. He peeks his head out of the ‘door’ when we hears me. “Whatcha think?”

“It’s- It’s amazing!” I say as he makes his way over to me. “How did you do that so fast?”

He laughs and shyly rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve had practice. My uncles and I used to make them a lot when I was growing up.” I’m left speechless while I admire his work. “Come on, it’s so much better on the inside.” Nyx grabs my hand to lead me over to the fort. He lifts up the blanket and I duck my head to climb inside. He doesn’t drop my hand as he joins me. He’s right. The inside is so much better. There is just enough space for both of us to sit comfortably even surrounded by pillows.

I didn’t know what Nyx planned for our date so I didn’t think too much about what we’d be doing. Now that I know it’s just gonna be us eating and talking all night, I’m struggling to find things to talk about. I know a little bit about Nyx, enough to know that I really like him, but I don’t know much else.

“I’ve been thinking….” I look over to Nyx nervously. He gives my hand a light squeeze encouraging me to continue. “I don’t know all that much about you, but I really want to. ”

“You know, I was just thinking that. I want to get to know you too Y/N. How about we play 21 questions?” When I look at him confused, he explains. “We ask 21 questions and we take turns answering them.”

I turn my body to face him and smile widely. “That sounds fun! Do you want to go first?”

He gives a nod and thinks for a moment. “What’s your favorite color?”

“That’s an easy one.” I laugh a little. “Blue.”

Nyx matches my laugh. “We’ll start off easy and go from there. Mine’s blue as well.”

I could have been more specific… My favorite color isn’t just blue. It’s the same shade as his eye color, but that might be too much to admit to right now.

“My turn?” I ask and Nyx nods. “Hmmm. Are you a morning or a night person?”

“Definitely a night person, but I don’t mind mornings because I have to get up early and train. What about you?”

“I’m the same way! Well, minus the training part. I’m totally a night person, but I like mornings too!”

Nyx looks down at where our hands are still connected. “Would you want to join me at training some time?”

“Is that one of your questions?” I ask, most definitely blushing, so I try to laugh it off.

“I guess that depends on your answer.” He swiftly replies.

My god this boy is gonna drive me crazy. I give his hand a light squeeze. “I would love to join you for training, Nyx.”

“Well then. I guess it’s your turn.”

“Ummm. Where’s your favorite place you’ve ever visited?”

“The Winter Court. It’s so beautiful. What’s yours?”

I suddenly regret asking that question. Staring at our linked hands calms me and helps avoid his eye. “I’ve, um. I’ve actually never been out of the Night Court…”

“I’ll take you to the Winter Court. You’ll love it.” Nyx says in a low voice and my eyes shoot up to his, but he must mistake my shocked expression because he starts to back track. “Only if you want to, of course. I would never want you to feel like-“

“Nyx.” I stop his rambling. “I’ve always wanted to go to the Winter Court. I would be honored if you would let me join you.” His shoulders sag in relief and I realize how nervous we both are. “How about we rapid fire the questions off?” I ask, hoping that if we get through these questions faster we can get rid of the nerves.

“I love that idea.” Nyx smiles brightly. “Is it my turn?” I nod and wait for him to think of a question.

“What’s your biggest pet peeve?”

“Loud chewers.” I shudder just think about it.

“Mine is walking in the house with shoes on.”

“Do you have any hidden talents?”

“Nope. Not a single one.” He looks at me expectantly.

“I can say the alphabet backwards in under two seconds.” I say shyly.

“What?!? Okay, you have to show me.”

“We’re rapid firing, remember?” I crack a smile.

“Fine, but don’t think I’ll forget about it.” He points a finger at me and matches my smile. “Any bad habits?”

I sigh and look down. “I bite my nails.”

Nyx loosens his grip on my hand and turns it over to examine my finger nails. I want to pull away, but I don’t want to hide from him. This whole date is about getting to know eachother. My breath gets caught in my throat when Nyx pulls my hand up to his mouth and kisses my knuckles.

“Mine is eating my boogers.” He says seriously. I jerk my hand away from his and then he bursts into laughter. “I’m just kidding! It was a joke!”

“It better be.” I do my best to hide my smile, but I can’t resist laughing along with Nyx.

“It is! I promise! I was just trying to get you to laugh. I think it worked.” He grabs my hand again. “My bad habit is actually slouching. My dad is always correcting my posture.” He makes a point to sit up straight and it looks painfully uncomfortable, so it doesn’t take long before he’s back to his usual position.

“What’s your love language?” I blurt out without thinking and immediately regret it. This is something I’m curious about, but it’s not really a third date type of question. Thankfully Nyx doesn’t seem to think so.

“I think mine is physically touch, but I’ve never really had the opportunity to explore the others.”

“That’s mine!” I lift up our joint hands. “I figured it was yours too, but I wanted to ask.” I also want to ask what his comment about ‘not having the opportunity to explore the other love languages’ means, but I’m too afraid.

“Biggest fear?” Nyx pulls my attention back to him.

“Bats.” My shoulders shake at the thought.

“Really?” Nyx asks, clearly amused and I nod. “Mine is death.”

“That’s understandable. What about the top thing on your bucket list?”

“Having a family.”

“Mine is becoming a mother.”

Our eyes meet again and something clicks in my head. I thought that I just liked Nyx, turns out these questions made me realize that it’s so much more than that. I’ve only known Nyx for a short period of time, but it feels like we’ve known eachother our whole lives. Like we’re supposed to be together. We just kind of stare at each other for a while. Neither of us daring to speak and ruin the moment.

I wish I could know what Nyx was thinking because I can see the gears turning, but I have no idea where his head is at. Does he feel the same way? I hope he does. It feels like he does or else he wouldn’t be here with me, right?

I decide to be brave and then us back to the game. “It’s um.. It’s your turn.” Nyx shuffles closer to me little by little until our knees are touching. My breathing stops as he lifts his free hand to rest against my cheek. He looks between my eyes, gauging my reaction. Nyx pushes a strand of hair behind my ear and smoothes his thumb over my cheek which doesn’t help my breathing situation, but I don’t want him to stop. Unknowingly, I lean into his hand. Yeah, both of our love languages are definitely physical touch. We haven’t dropped eye contact, but I notice that he is much closer now than he was a few seconds ago. Only when his face is inches from mine does he whisper his question.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” I don’t hesitate and neither does he before his lips fall onto mine. Nyx releases my hand and uses his to cup both sides of my face as I begin to kiss back. My hands fly up around his neck and play with the back of his hair.

It doesn’t take long for our kiss to deepen. I push up onto my knees and Nyx soon follows. Our bodies fit perfectly together, especially when his hands roam around my body then finally settle onto my waist. Feeling bold, my tongue licks across his bottom lip and he lets me in. We aren’t fighting for dominance, we are exploring eachother and taking our time to do it.

Eventually, when we have to break away for air, Nyx kisses my nose, which makes me giggle, and then presses our foreheads together.

“Do you want to finish the questions?” I ask while trying to catch my breath.

“Not really.” Nyx caresses my cheek.

“Good. Me neither.” I move closer as he leans back.

“Don’t think I’ll forget about the alphabet thing.” He smirks. I dramatically sigh and roll my eyes, but I’m thankful that he didn’t lean back for other reasons.

“Now.” Nyx draws my attention back to him and I notice he’s leaning in again. “Where were we?”

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demifiendrsa · 5 months ago

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youtube

The Legend of Zelda: Echoes of Wisdom – Traversing Hyrule Trailer

The Legend of Zelda: Echoes of Wisdom will launch for Nintendo Switch on September 26, 2024.

Latest details

Regions

Welcome to Hyrule, a vast land where Princess Zelda will journey through her grand adventure. Hyrule is a land of plentiful abundance, from the Central Plateau where Hyrule Castle stands enfolded by its Castle Town, to the outermost reaches, you’ll encounter new and interesting people in each of its diverse regions.

Gerudo Desert – The Gerudo Desert consists of scorching dunes as far as the eye can see and is prone to frequent sandstorms that’s no problem for the women of the Gerudo Tribe. Though there are many ruins full of mysteries here, and an oasis—a great place to relax.

Jabul Waters – Jabul Waters is home to some of Hyrule’s most scenic waterways. It’s also where you can find the Sea Zora and the River Zora, who each reside in their respective villages. Though they don’t always get along. What could they be fighting about?

Eldin Volcano – Daunting cliffs and lava flows dominate the Eldin Volcano region. Pacarico Village is nestled at the mountain’s base, but you’ll have to brave treacherous trails to reach the home of the Gorons. Those rocks may look delicious—alas, they are not for Hylians.

Faron Wetlands – The Faron Wetlands are a lush labyrinth of vegetation. As you wander the jungle you might come across a Deku Scrub. Rumor has it these peculiar creatures have a voracious sweet tooth.

During your travels you’re likely to encounter people dealing with problems great and small. Keep track of quests by browsing your Adventure Log whenever you’d like. Helping people with their troubles is a big part of your journey, and wise heroes are often rewarded for their good deeds.

Waypoints

Objects known as Waypoints are scattered throughout the land. Once you’ve discovered one, you can return toit quickly by selecting it on your map. Even with the benefit of fast travel, getting around Hyrule can prove challenging. At times like these, why walk when you can ride? Gallop right over weaker enemies to send them flying, and hop over small obstacles with ease. Once you learn to make a Carrot Echo, you’ll be able to call upon your trusty steed from anywhere in the overworld.

Smoothie Shops

As you explore you may come across smoothie shops manned by Business Scrubs. Here you can blend the ingredients you’ve collected into delicious drinks. Smoothies have different effects based on the ingredients you choose. They’re sure to come in handy during your travels. You can also equip outfits and accessories to enhance your abilities—and to look fashionable, obviously.

Abilities: Bind and Reverse Bond

Whether you’re trekking over rugged plateaus, through winding caves, or other complex locales, creating Echoes is key to success. But sometimes they may not be enough. A huge boulder like this cannot be learned as an Echo, and your other Echo won’t move it either. For obstacles like these, Tri has got you covered with the power of Bind. Use it to make even a massive boulder follow Zelda’s movement. Bind can help you unearth buried treasure, or even reposition troublesome enemies. You can also use Bind on your Echoes. So get creative and find ways to forge ahead.

Alternatively if you want to follow a moving object yourself, you can use Reverse Bond to go where it goes. Take advantage of a creature’s ability to fly or to move around quickly. Swapping between Bind and Reverse Bond is a great way to find clever paths forward. Let your imagination run wild and you’re bound to come up with all sorts of ideas. Use Bind in combination with your Echoes to overcome obstacles. Understanding how these two abilities work together will be essential to your progress.

Mysterious rifts are overtaking Hyrule. What else will Zelda have to contend with in her grand adventure to save her kingdom? There’s only one way to find out!

#The Legend of Zelda Echoes of Wisdom #Echoes of Wisdom #EoW #The Legend of Zelda #TLoZ #Legend of Zelda #LoZ #Nintendo #video game #Nintendo Switch

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silhouette-cosplay · 9 months ago

Note

I am so impressed by your cosplays, you are really brilliant at what you do!!

where do you get your materials from? you talk about using natural leathers and wools a lot so I was wondering about how you acquire them and the kind of price they may be.

Thank you so much!

So my #1 choice for finding natural materials like wool and leather is actually thrifting! My Loki original design is mostly thrifted leather from old coats, skirts, and pants. Quite often too I’ll find stashes of fabric from when someone cleaned out grandma’s attic and donated all her fabric, and I’ve gotten good at telling the fiber content just from touch (and sometimes smell). Now, I’m fortunate to have a lot of secondhand stores in my area, and I know that may not be the case for everyone, but it’s worth a look!

If thrifting doesn’t help, I also have some other go-to places (keeping in mind I’m US based):

For leather, if I need something super specific or large pieces I’ll either browse Etsy or go direct to Tandy Leather. Some hides can be pricey, but Tandy especially has some amazing sales (Black Friday one is the best) I will always choose genuine leather these days over “vegan” plastic leather; the latter will disintegrate so quickly and you’ll end up having to remake stuff anyway! Better to make something that lasts.

Wools can actually be trickier and more expensive (easily anywhere from $20/yd-$60/yd or more). I’m lucky to have some smaller local independent fabric stores that carry cheap deadstock fabrics (basically end of runs from other places that will never be restocked). But one of my fave online shops is Fabric Mart, which also carries deadstock inventory and has incredible sales. You gotta jump on them pretty fast and you can’t get swatches, but if you keep an eye on them you can snag some fabulous wools, silks, and leather hides too!

At the end of the day, higher quality materials are gonna cost you more, so you kind of have to factor that in and make decisions about your priorities. For me, I’m happier making fewer costumes with better materials—so the expense is one of the reasons I don’t bust out 10 cosplays a year. Other folks are less concerned about fiber content or fabric quality and would rather have more projects , and that’s their prerogative! (I will say though that in a world where fast fashion is such a problem, I would rather be an advocate for slow making with materials that will last. End rant there xD)

#cosplay tips

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astra-galaxie · 18 days ago

Note

also, if the motp crew were to be reintroduced in the modern world, what do you think their jobs would be if they weren’t police officers?

I’ve been thinking of making a S5 reboot concept, where like the motp cast comes to grimsborough to search for the player because boom they somehow remember thier past lives and how they were all best buds, and I’m stumped on whether to make them regular civilians, or police officers

(Maybe even include a scene where there slightly upset player’s with the grinnsborough police department and won’t join them…)

That sounds like a fantastic idea for an AU concept! It sucks that the MotP characters can't appear in other seasons since it's set like 100+ years in the past, so bringing them back through reincarnation is definitely thinking outside of the box!

You could choose either career option, as both would work! If you went the police route, I think the bigger question would be whether they work for the CPD or if the Flying Squad is still operational/has been brought back with them somehow.

(And having them be upset that the player won't leave the GBPD would be fitting, especially if the player doesn't remember their past life, unlike the Flying Squad…)

Now, for your initial question!

In my "modern-day Flying Squad headcanons" post, I mentioned some potential jobs the Flying Squad could have. But let’s see what else I can come up with for possible careers they could have if they didn't work for a police force…

Arthur Wright: I once headcanoned that he was a professional violinist, so I’m going to reuse that idea! Other than that, maybe a teacher of some sort or a small shop owner? (I don’t know what this man would do besides Police Chief…)

Isaac Bontemps: He’s a bit of a challenge, too…. It would probably be something classy… Maybe an antique dealer? I don’t know what exactly Isaac’s modern-day job would be… I could see him being a boxer in his younger years but stopping after a serious injury, but other than that, I'm at a bit of a loss!

Maddie O’Malley: I could see her working in a car-related field, maybe mechanics and racing on the side. I picture her as someone who enjoys driving fast and the freedom it gives her.

Dick Wells: I think he would still work in the medical field, and if I had to pick something besides a coroner, I would say a doctor, possibly one who works in palliative care since he seems to have no issues dealing with death. Another option could be a mortician if he went the non-medical route.

Viola Pemberton: I could see her following in her parents' footsteps and becoming a pharmacist. She would still act on the side, performing in plays at the local theatre.

Charlie Dupont: An engineer who invents things on the side. It just seems to fit him!

Evie Halloway: A librarian. She would also still write books on the side, probably starting small, like how she had a series in “Pistols and Petticoats” and then expanding and branching out as an independent author.

Rose Zhao: I could see her having worked for the military and, after leaving, taking up bounty hunting. Rose always strikes me as somewhat of an adrenaline junkie, so her career should be equally as exciting!

Diego del Lobo: Probably still an artist and thief on the side, but I’ve always had the headcanon that he makes his own clothes, so his main career could be a tailor/fashion designer.

And that’s all I got! Hopefully, this will help you with your S5 reboot concept! If you ever need help, you can reach out to me anytime, and I’ll see what I can do!😊

#criminal case #criminal case mysteries of the past #criminal case the conspiracy #arthur wright #isaac bontemps #maddie o'malley #richard wells #viola pemberton #charles dupont #evie holloway #rose zhao #diego del lobo #headcanons #ask

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7-wonders · 2 years ago

Note

Idk if you're taking requests rn (if not I'm sorry for bothering you 😭) but I just had an idea based off of a post you made about Dream not being able to take his hands off of you when doing mundane human things. So what if...

The reader had just come back from going shopping that day and she arrives to Dream patiently waiting for her at her house. She tells him she went shopping and he feels intrigued to see what she has bought so she does a small fashion show for him to show off what she got herself (she has no shame just changing in front of him which keeps his full attention on how she slides the material over her body) and one of the things he noticed in her bags was a full piece lingerie that she was actually gonna use as a top but he gets other ideas and suggests she try it on for him too. 🤭 needless to say it ends in some needy smut

(Again I am sorry if you aren't taking requests, but thank you for reading mine at least 💕)

Shopping Spree

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

(I don't really like writing smut and also I'm not good at it, so...use your imaginations at the end! Thank you for reading!)

The sun is already setting by the time that you make it home, laden with a couple of shopping bags and your wallet feeling just a bit too light for your liking. It was worth it, though, for the day spent with your friends and the self-care, both much needed. Shifting the bags around on your arms, you awkwardly fumble with your keys until you’re finally able to unlock your front door and swing it open so that you can slip inside.

When your eyes land on a figure sitting on your couch, silhouetted by the last rays of daylight, your heart skips a beat as you jump back. It’s only when the figure stands up and the shadows seem to morph around them that you realize it’s your beloved Dreamlord. How long he’s just been sitting in your unoccupied living room, you can’t say. Hopefully not long, but with him, you never know.

“Morpheus!” you greet cheerfully, excited to see him. “Did I forget about plans that we made?”

“No, I simply finished my tasks sooner than expected and thought that I would come to see you.”

You go to accept a kiss from him, after which Morpheus disdainfully glances down at the bags getting in the way of fully being able to hold you.

“What do you have?”

“Oh, some friends wanted to hang out, so we went shopping. I got some new clothes.”

He looks intrigued and a little confused, like he didn’t know that people actually bought clothes instead of just creating them from dreamstuff. From this observation, an idea begins to form.

“Do you…I can try on some of the stuff that I bought, if you want. Do a little fashion show?”

You don’t think that Morpheus has ever had somebody do a fashion show for him, and the idea obviously intrigues him (likely because he doesn't really know what a fashion show is). He nods after a moment of consideration, and you clap your hands together in excitement.

“Okay, sit down.”

Ushering him back to where he was sitting on the couch, you wait patiently until he's seated before you drag the bags over to you and begin to search through them. It was a true shopping day, including picking up a few household necessities that you were either out of or running low on, and you have to search for a bit before you find an article of clothing. Once your hand closes around the fabric, you pull it out of the bag and begin to change outfits.

You feel a little shy as you take off the clothes that you’re currently wearing without bothering to go into another room. You're not shy about your body in this situation—after all, Morpheus has seen plenty of it, and constantly makes you feel like you’re something divine. No, it’s just awkward to change in front of anybody; you feel like you need to change as fast as possible, lest they grow bored or annoyed with you. There were more than a few occasions when you were younger where you ended up falling on the floor of the dressing room because you were trying to put jeans on too fast so that you could show your mom (oh, the horror) and she didn't have to wait too long.

After fixing the straps on your shoulders, you finally get the first outfit on. Holding your arms out, you spin in a slow circle to show off your dress, purple with lighter gradient accents. “First, I got this pretty little sundress. I like the way it flows when I move."

"It's a beautiful dress," Morpheus notes, "made even more beautiful on you."

Both the compliment and the way that he looks at you, intently and as though you're the most important thing in the world, makes you giggle nervously. "Thanks. It has pockets!"

You shove your hands in said pockets to demonstrate, and he smiles fondly. "There are many dreamers with wishful dreams of dresses with pockets."

"Considering it's still somehow super difficult to find dresses with pockets, I believe it."

Diving back through the bags again, you grab the first item that you can get your hand on and pull it out. After looking at it to check what it is (listen, the day was a whirlwind, alright?), you hold the small packaging out towards Morpheus.

"I got these earrings."

"They're stars," Morpheus notes.

"Yeah. They, uh," you flush before mumbling, "they reminded me of your eyes in the Dreaming."

Morpheus, of course, hears you loud and clear, and sports a satisfied smirk on his face at the confession.

Next, you pull a shirt out of a bag and slide your jeans back on so that you can model this purchase for him. The entire time, you can feel Morpheus's eyes tracking each small movement that you make. The way that you hop a bit to get your jeans up onto your hips, how you stretch when you lift your arms up to slide the shirt on, your fingers when you tug the shirt down over your torso. It makes you feel bared, but in the best of ways, because you're completely known and understood by the one you're bared for.

Morpheus nods in encouragement when you turn around to show him your shirt. "Very nice."

And so the routine continues. This is honestly more fun than you thought it would be. You've never had a romantic partner that you could show off to, and it's quite the confidence booster to listen to said partner compliment you while you have his undivided attention.

You pull out an item you're still back and forth on while you're trying to find the last shirt that you bought, and you move it to the side since you're still not sure whether you're going to keep it. Since it's lacy and black however, it immediately gets Morpheus’s attention.

“And…that?” he asks, sitting forward on your couch.

“Okay, I know it seems a little out of place, but hear me out," you begin to explain. "I saw this on Instagram, where the girl was wearing a lace bodysuit just like this under a pair of jeans and a blazer, and she looked amazing. I figured I’d try it out, but I’m keeping the tags on just in case it looks terrible and I need to return it.”

Holding it out in front of you, you can tell that the vision you had for this particular piece is completely lost on Morpheus. After all, how can he think about anything but how the lingerie bodysuit will look on you? Why would he want you to cover that gift up with unnecessary clothing?

“Are you not going to try it on for me as well?” Morpheus asks, so terrible at feigning nonchalance that you'd laugh if it weren't for the way that he swallows harshly after he speaks.

"I mean, I can. I just wasn't sure if I wanted to try such an experimental look while you're here."

You're being purposely obtuse now, teasing him innocently enough that he's not going to catch on.

"I'll show you without the other pieces first, and then you can help me decide if the outfit works."

"Go on, then," Morpheus says, practically shooing you off.

You duck into the bedroom with lingerie in hand, feeling a little nervous about changing into this in front of Morpheus. After you get it on, you give yourself a quick once-over in the mirror and try not to focus on all of your perceived imperfections. No, you're sexy, you're a temptress, you're trying to seduce your eldritch nightmare king! Seductresses are confident, you remind yourself, running a hand through your hair to try and make it look artfully messy before you turn on your heel and re-enter the living room.

It's almost impossible to look effortless as you lean a hip against the doorframe and try to pose for Morpheus, but you try. Apparently, based off of how still he's gone and the way that his lips are parted and just slightly trembling as he sucks in air he doesn't need, you've succeeded.

"So, here's the bodysuit without anything over it."

"Are you not going to spin in this one, too?" His voice comes out hoarsely, and you internally cheer.

"I can!"

You spin around extra slowly, making sure that Morpheus fully takes in what you're wearing.

"I'll go put on the rest of the outfit, then," you say when you're done.

"No." Morpheus's voice stops you from moving.

"No?"

He stands and stalks slowly towards you, making you gulp in nervous excitement. When he's standing right in front of you, he puts his hands on your waist and pulls you flush against him. You gasp, your hands flying up to his chest, and he assures you, "I quite like it just like this."

"You do, huh?"

Morpheus begins to place soft kisses on your face, everywhere except for your lips. "In fact, this might just be my favorite of your purchases from today."

"So...you think I should keep it?" you ask, your head starting to feel a little dizzy as you fight to keep your composure.

"Indeed." His fingers, which had been tracing along the lace, grab at the tags that you had left on before ripping them off smoothly. "However, I do have an idea of where it would look best."

Your voice trembles. "And where's that?"

Finally, he meets your lips to actually kiss you. "Your bedroom floor."

With that, Morpheus picks you up to take you to bed and prove that he's absolutely right.

#dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagine #morpheus #the sandman imagine #the sandman

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spadesofgrass · 1 month ago

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"No pieces of mine are lost in the process." - A rare sit-down with the elusive Marguerite Thorne.

Marguerite Thorne, Drakovian royalty and a newcomer has already taken the industry by storm with her riveting high-fashion and radical, artistic concepts. Paul Carter of The Needle sits down with her for a look behind the curtains. Who is Marguerite?

(WC: 1.9k - No warnings)

It’s a beautiful afternoon at Manhattan’s Garment Center - a narrow view of which we can observe through Marguerite Thorne’s extravagant French windows in her studio as she sits down with me over Zoom. She prefers ‘Marguerite’ - a lot more sincere than the many titles her Royal roots have given her. There’s a certain tired look in her eyes she is unashamed to admit. “I wear the work in my face, my hands - you see this?” She lets me see her thumb, which is bandaged. She doesn’t expect pity either and when I attempt to, she gives me a small smile - one of reassurance.

It will be her fifth year participating at Paris very soon, with many accolades under her belt. She appears poised, with sharp focus and an unreadable, cryptic expression that warrants more questions. The stage is set and yet she will not breathe a word about her new collection. The charisma, the kitschy floral top and the carefulness with which she takes her tea wraps her in an enigmatic package. “I don’t talk shop much. It is boring. It is long. People like the words ‘sewing’, ‘stitching’ - so I tell them what they want to hear. Nobody wants conjugations.”

However she is rather outspoken about her inspirations. From the way her studio draws inspiration from her childhood bedroom in the Drakovian Royal Palace to the meticulous design in the pen with which she writes, Marguerite doesn’t stop at merely breaking down a craft into the sum of its parts. She prefers the brainstorming - calling it “such a funny word” for she shows me her sketchbooks littered with pieces of napkins from coffee bars, wrappers from candy she enjoys and leftover fabric; the “process, in all of its messiness!” as she puts it. She is quite excited - practically at the balls of her feet like a child breaking dolls apart and putting the pieces back together - to talk about her muses. To her, being chosen as a muse is a form of her showing a dedication; weaving their heart and soul into the design.

“For the longest time, my brother did most of the hard work. He showed up every day. We would have him twirl around in dresses, in suits, in skirts and trousers. What are you listening to, we’d ask. Have you been to any art shows? Did you smoke any weed? My good friends, they visit Via Montenapoleone, they go to Brera. They go to oceans, seas, warehouse parties to get into the fast life. I tried. Never worked out for me.”

Marguerite prides herself in being a homebody. She likes the comfort of home and cites American reality TV shows as ‘potent noise' that helps her get into her work. She invites models to have breakfast with her at home. She conducts team meetings in parks. Her unconventional technique prioritises comfort. Her methods of moulding her design after her muse’s “daily musings” as she so lovingly puts it - helps her visualise the rich colour and the vibes. A fast worker, Marguerite enjoys the rush of a new idea. A box of bandages are always kept at her desk, for her mind moves faster than her hands.

“My brother gets very chatty on Sundays. They're always on about one of their friends. Suede jackets, dark watery coffee, a singular gold earring. It's about the vibes. Getting used to New York’s fashion and adapting it to my palate was perhaps the biggest project in my career.”

We chat a little more about Drakovian fashion. She is hesitant to broach the subject of the Royal Family, brushing it off and murmuring a little about lawsuits as a joke and steers her thoughts into the gold that exists everywhere in the streets of Drakkos. Cold weather calls for practicality more than aesthetics. The Royal Family are hardly the type to drape themselves in shades of gold, for they prefer dotting their everyday greys with metallic silver or humble reds with drops of pearls. A surprising contrast. A comforting unease. A blend of familiar and novel so it doesn't resemble a betrayal. Marguerite considers herself Drakovian first. The music, the chatter, the food and the energy are the only things she's willing to take home. “Pieces that find itself-” she says. Where? Which pieces? The answers lie in silence.

Marguerite is adamant on keeping her muses at arm's distance. Perhaps it is with an intention to not draw attention to her older sibling, Trystan Thorne whose latest stint left the Kingdom of Drakovia in perplexity over the summer, but she makes it quite clear her brother is not the cornucopia at this table. She snacks on sunflower seeds, a source of sustenance she credits a mutual friend for introducing her to. With a close circle of confidants, Marguerite has a more reclusive social life; tiptoeing around the usage of the word - ‘friend’.

“I love my people. I party with them, I light their cigarettes. I treasure every chance I get with them a lot. People fly like clouds. People change and leave. It isn't wrong. As someone with many years left to go, I treasure these moments because I may not get the same moments when I grow up.” Her choice of words are deliberate. Marguerite is still a child at heart. She loves talking about her brother, she embraces the slowness in a fast-moving culture, she wants to share her stories drawn in bright crayons. Unattracted to labels and boxes, Marguerite prefers doing her own thing. It is a privilege in this world tied down to roles and expectations. Even the unreachable ones in her industry are not immune to it.

“People are surprised when they ask me if I am royalty.” she laughs, “I like having my identity a separate thing. I put parts of myself in my work. But I don't lose anything. No pieces of mine are lost in the process. I hope so.”

Marguerite has done her homework and she is here to answer all of my quizzes for her. To her, the term fashion icon means little. She chuckles, saying perhaps the royal blood in her tends to cleanse her tongue of its humility, but she's quite thorough in her research. Stewd, precise, a surgeon's cut - she cites Thierry Mugler’s avant-garde geometricism as some of her greatest inspirations to work on structure. Silk and cotton are her best friends. Strength and texture are maternal entities in her craft and yet, she never tells. My stabs in the dark are futile, even worse are my attempts at humour.

“I don't see the point in explaining my work. You see it and you interpret it the way you like it. It is a bit like putting a hat on a hat. My family used to ask me all the time. Make pretty dresses. What is pretty? They mean regal. Controlled and less voluminous. To them that is pretty. Sleek. They like my clothes. I made several pieces for my Mother. I hope she loves them.”

A traditional Marguerite piece is a coveted possession. A personally commissioned one? That is a rare jewel. She shakes her head, playfully chiding me for making her sound more mysterious than she already is. Her charming brown hair with red highlights, her charismatic Drakovian accent slipping through the cracks of her painfully-built New Yorkish character, the warmth in her laugh is enough for any unassuming stranger to proclaim her inviting.

Each one of her personal pieces is thoroughly made, rendering it inherently special. The elites at Hollywood have placed glorious commissions. Marguerite only makes a few. A young prodigy being patient or an old soul being selective? The only box she wishes to be contained in is the video call panel in which she visibly struggles to adjust her camera. She doesn't have assistants, calling them strictly “her people”. She encourages one of them to wave at me as they pass by with armfuls of packages. What does it take to get a personal piece directly from Marguerite’s closet, woven by her hands?

“I am not as trendy to be such a prodigy. My passion started because I wanted to make clothes for my people. I never learned to sew. I would outsource the hard work to other people. School was not my thing. But I knew colours well and perhaps, with a few bandages, I can learn how to sew. And maybe I can learn how to dye. How to feel colour. Maybe with that I can build shapes. I was learning kindergarten lessons.”

She continues after another sip of her tea. “I really enjoy working with people. They guide me. It is an elaborate process. They must be patient.”

A dig at the Hollywood elites? Marguerite is very tight-lipped about her clientele but her connections to North America’s jewels and Europe’s castles have certainly put her high on the contact list. Not to mention an endorsement from Vogue - ‘A Marguerite Summer’, showcases at two of the Big Four and not many public interviews have made an up-and-coming figure to watch out for. And yet, she believes nothing is greater than getting a letter back from home. Family is a sour subject but clothes heal the soul.

She recalls the time her Mother called her up to say thank you for a winter ball gown. “She never asked. I made it. She's never attended a dance since 1992.” Nothing is off the table between the mother and daughter pair, as she walks us through a typical conversation. They find themselves so far away, on small screens, chatting about velvet- a Marlboro in both of their hands, a glass of red, some hush-hush talk. Marguerite effortlessly plays off the “cool internet girl” persona and once you mix in her love for her family, she possesses the best of both worlds - trendy and traditional, with a spot of her usual campy grim humour.

“My motto has always been to get people to know themselves. Funerals, weddings, parties, you name it. Fashion is a big part of people's identity and I would be happy to be a part of that journey as they explore that.”

What makes her tick is her steadfastness - something the Old Guard in the fashion community are in desperate need for. She’s a swift businesswoman whose ambitions are so practical and rarefied and succinct that bleeds into the stitches she creates and thus, the tapestry she weaves. When she brought Empty to New York Fashion Week during September of this year, the industry was positively stunned. Her ability to intermix Drakovia’s quick-footedness with American streetwear - deep with intricate designs that hinted at this unique kind of rebelliousness the youth share in spades is almost effortless and yet, the rugged permanence of her collection leaves a lavish, uncaring impression in people’s minds, compared to the fast fashion trends of today and tomorrow. She’s perhaps more than a star - an undescribed flying object, without labels, without her identity condensed down into a single collection. Marguerite confesses she hates the job and yet, it is a helpless addiction.

“I just have too many ideas and too little time. Maybe that must be why I don’t go home often. I’d like to go home if they will have me, haha.” She rubs the back of her neck, as she’s telling me where she stands with her family. Artists are always doomed for a life of loneliness, she thinks. “No matter what I do, it is just me here. And I create some of my best work. I reserve many chairs. I hope they care for me and show up. I do not care if I have a legacy. That is the least of my concern. What about the present? What can I do to make things better?”

____

A/N: I hc Mags' fashion label's called Empty (Empty sounds like M.T, her initials).

If you'd like to be tagged, lmk!

Tagging some people who might be interested: @thosehallowedhalls @coffeewithcutcaffeine @choicesmc

#marguerite thorne #choices cop #crimes of passion #crimes of passion choices #drabbles

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darbyoakana · 4 months ago

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An Overlord's Tail - Chapter 6

Summary: Alastor X reader, F/M. The party is quickly approaching. Things with Alastor escalate, violently.

Warnings: Handjob, blood, cannibalism?. This story is 18+, minors can fuck right off.

Other Notes: Song reference - Loneliest Day by System of a Down Movie reference - Tatum's death in Scream (1996)

Darby Link Tree

____________________________________________

Chapter 6: Control

The party was coming up fast and you were diligently planning. Asmodeus was taking a lot off your plate by providing location, security, bar, and food. For that you were grateful. You had collected the guest list and sent out invites. You spent part of the day at Ozzie’s going over the floor plan and working with their stage manager to book some entertainment. Everything seemed to be in order.

Due to it being formal attire, you and Angel went shopping. Angel, of course, picked something very revealing that didn’t quite qualify for formal. But he looked great either way. Angel picked out a form-fitting backless red dress for you.

“Oh my gawwd, that looks amazing on you. Please get this one.”

“I don’t know, this thigh slit is really high.”

“Easy access?”

“Angel…” you scowled.

“Come on, don’t try to tell me yah couldn’t use a good lay?”

“I admit, I could relax a bit,” you took a breath. “But- that's why I just plan on drinking too much.”

“Which will make it easier to tap that. Win-win.”

“You are the wooorrrstttt.”

“Haha I know babe,” he smiled. “But yah getting this one right?”

“Fine, yeah,” you turned around to eye the back. “It does make my ass look great.”

“Hell yah it does.”

“The straps are a little loose though, I’ll see if they’ll alter it,” you pulled the strap back up. “Do you have a date?”

“Nah, I was kinda hopin' Husk would ask me. How about you?”

“No, I’ve been too busy planning to even think about it.”

“What about Tenticles, huh?,” referring to Alastor. “He’s gonna lurk around you all night anyways,” pausing to think. “I dunno those tentacles could be a lot of fun.”

“Oh my god Angel,” you laughed. “I am so glad he is too old to know what hentai is.”

“Ahaha! So you’ve thought about it!” Angel cackled. “You pervvv!”

In truth, you weren’t really sure if Alastor liked you. On one hand, he didn’t give physical attention to anyone like he did with you, though it was small. You did feel he was different around you, to some degree he could drop his shields. But on the other hand, you didn’t expect anything from him sexually. And you weren’t going to push for it, you wouldn’t enjoy it if he wasn’t enjoying it. Maybe he needed time to become more comfortable in the situation. Maybe this was an old-fashioned type of deal. You really didn’t know and didn’t want to assume either. You also weren’t sure if you wanted to jump into another relationship with another boss. It all made you uneasy.

You both returned to the hotel feeling accomplished and excited for the party. Your dress would be delivered later after the straps were adjusted. You had already booked a makeup and hair team to service the staff for the party. The florist had confirmed the order was placed. Everything was coming together.

You headed up to your room for the evening.

____________________________________________

“Hey, Smiles,” Angel called to Alastor who was sitting at the bar. He took a seat. “You gonna ask our girl to be yah date to the party, or what?”

“Pardon?”

“Oh come on. I see the way yah look at her.”

“And how’s that exactly?”

“Like yah want chop her up and put her in a stew. Which I assume is yah idea of romance.”

“Perhaps you should mind your own business.”

“Alright, but someone else is bound to ask her,” Angel remarked. “In fact, I think Lucifer was lookin’ for her earlier… Just sayin’.” He waved his hand dismissively and walked away.

Angel was making it up, Lucifer wasn’t looking for you. But he knew the idea of Lucifer taking you on a date would infuriate Alastor and was trying to motivate him. The idea of asking you himself made him choke. You were becoming a weakness and weaknesses get exploited. This was a passing fancy, he lied to himself, and it would fade.

Tapping his claws on the glass, he grumbled to himself and finished his drink.

For the next few days, things at the hotel were slow and with the party set you didn’t have much to do. You lay on your bed, relaxing, and shopping on your phone for some shoes to match your dress. Music turned up loud as you sang along. “And if you goooo, I wanna go with yooou

And if you diiiie, I wanna die with yoooou

Take your hand and walk awaaaaaaaaay”

The music abruptly stopped.

“A lovely sentiment indeed.”

You looked towards your CD player, there was Alastor with his finger on the pause button.

“My apologies, I knocked,” he explained. “This arrived for you, your party dress I assume.” He hung the garment bag off the door of your wardrobe. “A lovely color,” he eyed the dress.

“Oh, thank you, Angel helped me pick it out.”

“I was wondering. If you aren’t busy, I have an errand to run. I’d like you to accompany me.”

The store was dated and felt like a museum. Smelt like one too. Items from every era cluttered the shelves. You followed him through the store, rows of dimly lit shelves. Despite being cluttered the store was very well organized. Shelves were labeled by decade. Each item had a price tag with a detailed description of its origin. He led you downstairs, the shop seemed to have endless rooms. He paused at a curtained door.

“Close your eyes, please,” he asked, holding out his hand. You complied. He led you through the doorway. “Alright, you may open them.”

You were in a large room with wall-to-wall shelves of VHS movies. You were stunned. They had every film you could think of. It looked a lot like an old video store. You were wide-eyed with excitement. Alastor ate up every nuance change in expression, savoring it.

“This is amaaaazing. Holy shit!” you looked back to Alastor.

“Well, we only had five movies left,” he said smugly. “Would be a shame if we ran out.”

“This is very thoughtful Alastor..”

“Why the surprise? I am certainly capable of it,” he waved his hand.

“I’m not questioning your ability, more your willingness,” you laughed.

“Ouch,” he grabbed his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”

“Uh huh,” you scoffed, laughing. “Where do we even start, there's so many!”

“The owner has agreed to let us borrow what we please. If there's something you desire, purchasing is an option.”

“And he’s doing this out of the kindness of his heart? Or is it the fear you instilled in him?”

“How should I know? I am unaware of his ability for kindness or fear, I couldn’t properly measure.”

“Suuure,” you rolled your eyes. You skimmed the horror section, grabbing a few favorites. Once the stack was too much for you to hold on your own, you called it. “Alright, I think this should suffice. I know it’s not our usual night but we're gonna watch some of these, yah?”

“Of course my dear, I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Upon returning to the hotel you were greeted by Angel and Lucifer at the bar. They encouraged you to join them. The four of you enjoyed a few drinks. Angel talked about some nonsense going on at the studio. Lucifer was exhausted by the latest meeting with Heaven. Everyone seemed excited about the upcoming party.

“So, toots, you got a date yet?” Angel asked you but looked at Alastor. He glared.

“Hasn’t really been a priority,” you commented, also glaring at Angel, knowing exactly what he was doing. “But thanks for your concern… What about you Husk? Do you have a date?” you asked, staring at Angel.

“Uh..” Husk looked from Angel to you and back to Angel, your eyes intensely burning into one another. “Yeah, I’m going to say out of whatever this is…” He held his hands up, backing away from the rest of you.

Lucifer laughed. He’d been enjoying his time at the hotel. Being around so many people was overwhelming. But when it was small groups like this he felt more comfortable. And what was taking place in front of him was too amusing to pass up. Alastor pretending he wasn’t uncomfortable was delectable to Lucifer. He had caught on right away to what the spider was trying to accomplish.

“Oh, hmm,” Lucifer said. “I didn’t even think about that. Maybe I should get a date for the party!” He winked at Angel. Angel smirked back.

“Oh absolutely Your Highness, anyone who anyone is gonna have a plus one,” Angel nudged you. “And I don’t want yah to be a loser, babe.”

“Says he without a date!” you jabbed back.

“What about you Alastor?” Lucifer asked loudly. “Are you taking anyone?”

“Why? Is His Majesty interested?” he sneered. “That’s too bad, I’m afraid I have height requirements.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it! You see, I have this rule about not setting myself up for disappointment.” Lucifer remarked.

“Then, how pray tell, does His Majesty live with himself?” Alastor snarled.

You laid your head on the bar top with a groan. You signaled to Husk you needed another drink.

By the end of the evening, everyone at the bar had a few too many. However, everyone else seemed to be handling it better than you were. No real surprise to either you or Alastor.

You made it up to your floor but tripped getting out of the elevator. The bag of VHSs on your arm clacked as they hit the ground with you. You lay there laughing for a moment until you felt a tug on your hand. Alastor’s shadow wined at you. Alastor was probably already waiting for you in your room. The shadow started to drag you. You couldn’t help but giggle as you were moved down the hall like a sack of laundry. The shadow dropped you in front of your door.

“Really now, is that any way for a lady to behave?” Alastor said, opening your door and stepping out.

He chuckled, picking you up over his shoulder and closing the door with his foot. He tossed you on the bed and proceeded to pull a cassette from the stack and placed it into the player. Taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, he then filled the unwatched drawer with the new movies. You tossed your shoes to the floor.

You enjoyed your secret movie nights with Alastor, it felt like you got to experience a part of him that was just for you. He sat down next to you on the bed, both leaning on the pile of pillows against the headboard.

“Aw man,” you pouted. “I should have made popcorn.”

“Allow me,” he said, snapping his fingers. A bowl appeared in his hand.

“Ohhh yay!” you reached for the bowl as he pulled away from you. You fell, draped over his lap. “Heeeyyyyy…”

“Now now, manners,” he scolded.

You rolled over onto your back, head still on his lap. You looked up at him with sad puppy eyes.

“Please Alastor...”

He shuddered softly. The thought of you begging him sent a chill down his spine. He held his breath and swallowed hard. He resisted the urge to touch you, to see how much more he could make you beg.

“Good girl,” he said, handing you the bowl.

You didn’t get up, just rolled to the side to see the TV with the bowl in your arm. You shared interesting little tidbits about the movie as it progressed.

“This part is so stupid,” you laughed. “She could have totally fit through that doggy door.”

You held up your hand, tilting your arm behind you to offer a few pieces of popcorn to Alastor. He hesitated before eating the kernels from your fingers. Anyone else would be concerned for their phalange's safety, but not you. No one treated Alastor as you did.

Ask her, you ridiculous coward. He fought with himself. He was feeling the stress of his mental dilemma. The fear of having you or not having you. The fear of someone else obtaining you. He glanced at your dress hanging on the wardrobe door.

“And a standard garage motor is weak as shit. Creative yes, realistic no,” you laughed again.

He tried to focus on the movie playing, you had said it was your favorite. But every time you laughed or spoke, he could feel the vibrations of your voice on his leg where you lay. Your warm body against his was too distracting. He wasn’t really there for any of the films anyway. His mind wandered, berating himself. The war between what he wanted and what he feared tore him. Could he have such a weakness present in his life? Not only would it put him at risk but you as well. Could he handle something happening to you because of him?

You adjusted your position. Sitting up, moving from his lap to his chest, leaning more of your body into his. Your head rested below his collarbone. He froze.

“Oh..” you looked up at him, your face close to his. “I’m sorry, I should have asked. Is this okay? Is it too much touching?”

“No, pet. It’s perfectly fine. Thank you for asking,” he wrapped his arm around you and buried his face in your hair. You let out a soft hum at the sensation. He filled his senses with your scent.

Who were you to treat him the way you did? Pampering him with such gentle kindness. Considering his feelings and needs. Why did he allow it? Why did he endure the attitude and snark you so regularly threw at him? He had killed for far less. But you walk around freely. Wearing his appendage no less. Why did he permit you to continue to exist when you posed such an egregious threat? Alastor demanded control at all times. Nevertheless, you took it out of his hands with such ease. No. He wouldn’t allow it, he told himself. It was time to regain dominion over this situation, he had let it go on long enough. He was the Radio Demon, not some whipped feeble boy. You would do as he wanted, not the other way around. His judgment would not be impaired by anyone, how dare you, he fumed.

His right hand clutched your hair and bent your head back, left hand at your throat, jerking your face towards his. His stern expression met your startled eyes with determination. But the tender whimper leaving your mouth as you bit your lip dismantled his resolve instantly. Oh fuck, he thought, as he threw caution and control to the wind. His mouth met yours with a ravaging starvation. Your right hand gripped the wrist at your throat, pulling yourself up to straddle him. Harsh breaths and moans pass from his mouth to yours and back again. The hand on your throat drifted down to your hip, wrapping his arm around your waist with a stern tug. He gripped you tightly against him. You moaned. His tongue aggressively dominated your mouth. Your hands gripped his shirt, despite there being no space between you, the distance was unbearable. The hand still in your hair yanked your head to the side, his mouth traveled down your jaw to the crook of your neck. You ground your pelvis into his, and to both your surprise your movements were met with his pulsing erection, bound by his pants.

Panic started to set in. He felt his self-control slipping. He has had years to master discipline in regards to anger but this was new and uncharted territory. He felt the monster within him stir, craving more. He shoved it down. But with every tilt of your pelvis, the appetite to devour you grew. Desiring to rip the flesh from your bones, savor the taste of your innards sliding down his throat. You ignorant fool, he internally screamed. He had miscalculated once again, of course, you weren’t the threat. He was.

With a radio static growl, he sank his teeth into your shoulder. You cried out in pain but to his astonishment it only made you grind into him harder. You unbuttoned his pants, freeing his throbbing cock. You curled your fingers around his girth and stroked slowly. His teeth tore into you as his hips bucked. Your screams only fueled the beast lingering inside him. Panting, ragged breaths crept out of his mouth into your ears, spattering blood on your neck.

“Fu- uuck… Alastor…” you gasped, wanting him to fuck you stupid. “Please…”

Hearing you plead for him sent him over the edge. A screech of radio static filled the room as he climaxed. His claws cut into your flesh, clawing thick lines of dribbling red across your delicate skin. His neck cracked as his form distorted, eyelids and dial pupils fluttered. Antlers scraped the headboard behind him. Blood dripped from the edges of his mouth, soaking into your shirt, as your palm was filled with warm release.

His back hit the headboard with a thud, breathing hard sharp breaths, and regained clarity. Shaking, he took your face in his hands. Eyes full of trepidation piercing yours. Wanting to say something, anything, but no words came out no matter how hard he tried. He glanced at your gushing wound and with apprehension he watched blood seep out of the puncture marks. Streams of crimson ran down the front of you.

You heard the bath water start to pour into the tub. Lifting you into his arms, he carried you to the bath, gently lowering you into the tub and removing your shirt. He snapped his fingers and a medical kit appeared. He rummaged through it anxiously while you kept pressure on the injury. You sat in silence as the tub filled with orange and pink swirls; water meeting blood. Alastor sutured your wounds.

You could hear how uneven his breath was. His mind clearly working overtime. Did you not feel the danger? It wouldn’t have mattered if you tried to escape, it probably would have made things worse. But the fact that you didn’t even try, that you were content in letting him consume you; it frightened him. If you had not brought him to climax and clear mind, would he have sunk deeper into his inner demon and destroyed you? His hand shook as he pulled the nylon thread through your skin. You placed your hand on his.

“Alastor…” you said gingerly. He didn’t look up. “Alastor, look at me.”

For a moment his eyes fixated on the wound. But slowly traveled up your bruised neck, over your jawline and up to your eyes.

“I’m sorry, my darling…” he leaned his forehead against yours. “I didn’t mean to be so rough.”

“It’s okay,” you squeezed his hand in yours. “Really, it is.”

He washed the blood off you and placed gauze over the stiched-up wound. You changed into fresh clothes while Alastor removed the blood from his hands and face. Usually, when he found himself bloodied, there was a sense of accomplishment and pride. Tonight, however, he felt sick. Exhausted, you laid down in bed. Alastor picked up his coat.

“Where do you think you are going?” you asked, patting the bed next to you. “I’d like to be held please.”

You fell asleep in Alastor’s arms, sore and drained. He nuzzled into your hair. How could you still want him after tonight? A twang of inadequacy deflated his confidence. He didn’t understand, the experience wasn’t exactly fulfilling on your end, just abusive. Yet here you were, permitting him to be close, to touch you.

You awoke in the morning, alone.

#darby oakana #hazbin fanfic #hazbin x reader #alastor x reader

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pankeike · 1 year ago

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Ethical fashion | Where to shop

Okay so today we will be talking about ethical shopping, specifically for fashion so today we are going over, what is fast fashion, why would you want to buy from ethical sources, why is it okay to buy from fast fashion and where to buy if you want to shop ethically so lets get into that

What is fast fashion?

ast fashion is cheap articles of clothing made at an increasingly fast rate. Now, just because their cheap, does this specifically mean that the clothing is badly made? Well, not always, but most of the time the quality control is badly managed and so the clothing is not always the best quality. But some people don’t really care about the quality of clothing, they just want cute clothing, now I’m not going to tell you all the reasons you shouldn’t buy from fast fashion but instead all the solutions of what you could instead do if you’d like to have higher quality clothing. lets go onto that section.

Why would you want to buy from ethical sources?

What are some reasons that you would want to buy from ethical sources? Well firstly, as stated before, the quality control will be better therefore you will get better textures, less broken/ prone to breaking items and an article of clothing that will more likely match the picture you expected to get when buying. So generally it’s for you to buy clothing that you’ll wear for longer, more and for comfortability. But thats just some reasons that it would be better for you, does it help anyone else when you buy ethically? Well for one, it helps the planets, ethical brands try their best to be free of animal cruelty and to be environmentally friendly so that the planet we live on stays inhabitable. Another reason is most ethical brands also will not put their workers, and or co-workers in dangerous working conditions and give them lower then minimum wages. Finally, most ethical brands also have ethical views/ mindsets, such as:

Not stealing from artist and even supporting artist by paying them for their time and or collaborating with them by sponsoring them

they might be pro equality by supporting lgbt+, BLM and or research foundations on making the world for minorities a better place

speaks out against injustice by either spreading the word or helping other financially

These are just a few reason of why you might want to support ethical businesses

Why is it okay to buy from fast fashion?

Not everyone can afford ethical fashion, does this mean they shouldn’t buy from cheaper fashion brands that have cute clothing, No! Everyone deserves to feel cute no matter what their financial status is, just don’t do anything that is hurting you for example, if you buy forma makeup company and they come out later saying that their products have given peoples skin rashes and or any other bad reactions, don’t use the makeup. Your health comes first before anything else, yes you deserve to feel cute. But don’t put your physical health or any health for that matter, in danger in the name of beauty. So is it right or correct to buy from fast fashion brands, whos really to say? I for one am not that person to make a decision on something that is not so black and white. Also a lot of fast fashion brands have more sizes being more accesible to plus size people, again, everyone deserves to be cute and if you cannot find your size in an ethical brand. do whats best for you to be your most authentic self. But what about all the people who have taken this into factor and want to stop buying fast fashion and want to buy ehticaly but don’t know where to start? That's what the next section will then cover

Where to buy if you want to shop ethically

o There are a couple of shop I’ve gathered and I will give you some reasons as to why you personally might want to buy from them. Also some places that seem ethical but actually aren’t so just some do’s and don’t of ethical fashion shopping

Ethical shops/ brands

HARD DECORA

ACDC rag

Candy trap

Milky Tomato

SPANK kei

Clowdez

Natural life

SoLazoIllustrator

BagelsCrafts

Milklim

Ocean in space

Puvithel

Egglien Creations

Yumelixir

Kei collective

In control clothing

Miss Octopie

MerbunnyBaby

Straposhop

Miss alphabet

Ghost girl goods

The lolita collective

Fast fashion shop/ brands

Romwe/ Shein

temu

aliexpress

Toaboa

Minga london

yes style

devil inspired

modokawa

Hot topic

Second hand websites

lace market

kei market

closet child

mecari japan

#jfashion #japan #yumekawa #yumekawaii #kawaii #kawaii fashion #decora kei #decora #fashion #ethical #ethical fashion #fast fashion

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master-muffinn · 1 year ago

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Shangri-la frontier (the rabbits) Relationship headcanons

I’m writing after the latest episode of the anime I have watched, which is Ep. 8 and no manga so don’t expect too much. I haven’t found any headcanons yet so I made some. I hope you like it too 🥰

Emul

🥕 Before you two start dating you will know every little part of the Rabituza. If you let her, she will tell you about everything there is to know while looking all happy (and adorable) and excited about it. She shows you all the tastiest food places and the shops with the best quality weapons and objects. Of course she introduces you to her younger brother Peatz who will sell you some good stuff.

🥕 Her dad- i mean boss will know who you are before you meet him. Emul has been talking about you so much. About your interests, what you like and don’t like, your family etc. How can she not talk about you? She loves you and you’re like the coolest and most amazing person she knows! You and her father is Emuls idols after all ❤

🥕 Emul is very creative with her nicknames and as fast she finds something new that she thinks suits you she goes with it. “Pumpking”, “Pudding pie”, “Sweet carrot”, “Carrot cake”. But even so, she loves, LOVES your name the most so you will hear a combination of all of it.

🥕 Emul’s love language would be words of affirmation since she loves telling you how amazing you are. She doesn't hold back with the compliments either. “Y/n is that a new shirt? You look lovely in it!” “Y/n did you learn a new skill? You have trained so hard! I knew you could do it!! I’m so proud of you!!” And if you compliment her, she will be sooo happy and thinks she is so lucky to have you!

Vysache

🍶 He often takes you out for a walk around the city. No servants, only you and him. He will sometimes take you with him when he goes outside of Rabituza. Show you and teach you what he knows about the outside world, and you teach him what you know. If you two happen to meet an enemy, Vyache would totally show off during the fight. Unless you want to fight, then he steps aside and gladly watches you.

🍶 Whenever you improve yourself or clear a difficult task you have been struggling with he’d always give you the “proud” look. That��s my girl/boy aura you know. “Good Job my love”.

🍶 When it comes to nicknames, he would go with the old fashioned ones. So he would call you the typical “Dear”, “My love”, “Sweetie”.

🍶 You know the little servant bunnies who follow Vyache around? Yeah. They serve you too. Giving you a nice massage with their cute little paws and serving you delicious food.

🍶 I think Vysache's love language would be quality time. He enjoys the time you spend together, no matter what you two are doing. He will memorize it and not take it for granted.

Thank you for reading! If liked, reblogs are very appreciated! :) Post made by @master-muffinn

I do not take requests.

#Vysache x reader #emul x reader #rabituza #shangri-la frontier #shangri-la frontier x reader #shangri-la frontier fluff #shangri-la frontier headcanons #emul rabbit headcanons #vyache rabbit headcanons #emul rabbit #vyache rabbit #shangri-la frontier vyache #shangri-la frontier emul #shangri-la frontier relationship #anime x reader #master-muffinn

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eltheabberation · 1 year ago

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My part for @tgpairup with @canadianlucifer :D This was my first time doing something like this and I'm really glad I got to participate. I ended up writing a fic about Touka, so hopefully you like it :D

Drip.

Touka cursed under her breath. Mr. Yoshimura glanced at her.

“What’s wrong?” the older man asked.

Touka turned back to look at her cup.

She’d been working at Anteiku for a week now, and yet she still couldn’t get the hang of it. The coffee she made was too bitter, the counters she cleaned were too dusty, and now…

“…pitcher… pours too fast,” she grumbled.

“Hm?”

“I said the stupid pitcher pours too fast.”

He walked over to the counter Touka was working at and looked over her shoulder. Coffee dripped down the sides of her cup. He looked back at her.

“May I?” He held out his hand. She handed the pitcher to him. He took it with a nod and pulled out two more cups.

“You have to be patient,” he said as he poured into one of the cups. “You can’t tip the pitcher too much, then it overflows. Don’t pour in just one place either, try moving it in a circular fashion.” He handed the pitcher back to her and motioned to the other cup. “Now you try.”

Touka fumbled with the pitcher as she tried to copy his movements.

“A little slower,” he said. She tipped her hand back slightly. “And stop.”

Touka looked at her work. It was… well, it wasn’t overflowing this time. She took a sip and grimaced.

“It’ll get better,” Yoshimura reassured her. “One day, you’ll look back and think of how far you’ve come.”

Touka wanted to scoff, but hesitated. Instead, she remained silent, blowing a strand of dark hair out of her face.

“Well, anyway,” Yoshimura said, picking up the cups and pitcher and moving over to the sink. He pulled something out of a drawer, and then walked back over to Touka. “Here. For your studies.”

A math textbook, the grade above the previous one she’d been lent, and another small book. She opened it.

“It’s a short story collection,” he explained. “To practice your kanji.”

“...Thanks.” Ever since Yoshimura had suggested she attend school, Touka had been studying however she could to try and catch up with the other kids her age. It was hard, but she was starting to get the hang of it.

“Hopefully you’ll be able to enroll next semester,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said, stuffing the books into her bag, and slinging it over her shoulder. “I have to go, er, make sure Ayato’s alright. He doesn’t do very well on his own.”

“Alright.” Yoshimura gave her a gentle smile. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“See you.”

***

Touka entered the coffee shop already in a bad mood. Dragging herself to work had been nothing short of a hassle, and her leg still ached from the night before, the bone still not fully healed.

“Fucking Tsukiyama…” she muttered.

“Morning, Touka!” Koma called. The fearsome ghoul known as the Devil Ape was currently busy mopping the floors of the small cafe. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

“Morning,” Touka replied, brushing past him as quickly as she could. Koma was nice enough, but she wasn’t in the mood for a conversation right now.

When she made it to the back room, Yoshimura was waiting for her.

“Morning, Mr. Yoshimura,” she muttered.

“Yomo told me-”

Touka made a purposeful show of completely ignoring everything he was saying, instead moving over to the cupboard to get the supplies she needed for the day.

“Touka, please, I’m serious, if you keep this up-”

“It’s none of your business.” She pulled a can of coffee beans off the shelf and opened it. Almost empty. “Whatever brand this is, we need to restock it,” she called.

“Don’t change the subject,” he said sternly. “What you and Ayato are doing is incredibly reckless, and if the doves catch wind of it-”

“If the doves catch wind of it, we’ll kill them.” She took another can off the shelf and checked it as well. “This one’s still pretty full.”

“You and Ayato can’t take on a whole army of doves, Touka. And what about the other ghouls in the ward? They’ll be vulnerable too.”

“To hell with all of them,” she grumbled. “Just stop lecturing me.” She reached for another can of beans, this one a shelf higher. Suddenly, she heard a sharp crack, a shock of pain going through her leg. She hissed, her jaw clenched.

“I- Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said. She tried to move her leg. “Shit!” More pain, and now her head was splitting.

Suddenly, Yoshimura was at her side. He held out a hand. She steadied herself and mumbled a thanks.

“I’m just worried about you. You and Ayato both. That’s all,” he said.

Touka fell silent.

“How about you take the day off today?” he suggested.

“Sure,” she mumbled.

“Do you need any help getting to your apartment?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

As she stumbled towards the doorway, Mr. Yoshimura called out one last time.

“Be careful, alright?

“...alright.”

***

Touka set her school bag with a plunk.

“How was it?”

“Huh?” She looked up at Yoshimura.

“Ah, school, I mean,” he said, handing her a kettle. “Can you fill this up please?”

“Sure.” She walked over to the sink. “It was… it was fine,” she said, as she turned it on.

“Just fine?” He tilted his head slightly.

“Well, it was nice…”

“... but?”

She sighed. “There were just… a lot of humans.”

“You didn’t like that?”

“No, I mean, that’s not it,” she said, walking over to hand him the kettle. “Here.”

“Thank you.” He put it down on the counter. “So, what is it then?"

“Well, it’s not that I didn’t… like it,” she said, fumbling to find the right words, folding her hands on the counter. “It just felt… weird. They’re nice and all, but they…” They can have dinner with their families. They can eat without feeling guilty. They don’t have to live in fear of doves. They’ve never had to kill a person in their lives.

They aren’t monsters.

“I understand.” Yoshimura’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. When she looked up at him, his smile was soft. Sympathetic.

“Mhm.” She looked back down at her hands, trying to find another topic. “Oh!” She suddenly remembered something else. “I made a friend today… I think.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really!” she snapped, waving a hand around. “Her name was Yoriko. She, uh, seemed nice.” She narrowed her eyes. “She even gave me some of her lunch.”

“So a bit too nice, I suppose,” Yoshimura joked. He chuckled to himself.

“I had to miss 4th period.” Touka grumbled. She grumbled. “At least she seemed happy.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re making friends.” He smiled warmly at her.

She looked back down. “Yeah…” She started to smile, then stopped. Remembered. Remembered the difference between her and Yoriko.

“Yeah.” More somber, this time.

It was a bittersweet day.

***

Touka had barely said a word all day.

When she’d first come into work, she’d been shaking. She quietly greeted Koma and Irimi, before rushing into the back room. Since then, her conversations had been limited to asking customers for their orders and little else.

How could she, really? How could she go about her day as if it was normal, as if nothing happened?

Her hand slipped, fumbling with the pot she was holding. Hot coffee spilled down her hand and onto the counter. She clenched her teeth, put the pot down, and went to get a towel.

“Everything alright?” Yoshimura asked.

“Yeah, sure.” She opened up one of the cupboards and pulled out a towel, then went back over to the counter.

“We can talk about it if you’d like.”

“I don’t.” She carefully wiped the spilled coffee. “So stop asking.”

“Are you sure?” he persisted. “Because-”

“I SAID I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!” She hadn’t meant to be that loud, but what had come out was almost a scream. She glanced in the direction of the main cafe, then back at her workstation. “Sorry,” she mumbled. Her eyes started to sting. She leaned over on the counter, her head in her hands.

She heard Yoshimura’s footsteps behind her, then felt a soft hand on her shoulder. She looked up, no doubt a few tears were rolling down her cheeks. He offered a small smile.

“I…” She took a deep, shaky breath. “He just- he just… left! I didn’t even know he- he was planning on leaving but he had his- his bags packed and… and everything! How long had he been…

“He said… He said I was going to sc-crew things up one day, like- like Dad, and he didn’t want to be- to be there when that happened.” She hiccuped, and brought a hand up to her face. “And- And he’s right! One of these days- One of these days I’m going to screw things up and then the doves will come for me like they came for Dad and Yoriko-”

Yoriko will hate me.

It was a strange thought, really. Strange and dangerous, because it shouldn’t have meant that much to her. And yet it did.

She fell silent.

“You’re worried about your friendships?”

“I-I mean, it’s not that, it’s just…” Touka sighed. “If she ever learned… she’d turn me in, and I can’t-”

“Do you really know that?”

Touka frowned, and looked up at Yoshimura. “What are you saying?”

He looked off into the distance, almost wistfully. “I think you might underestimate how much that girl cares about you.” He looked back at her. “And even if something does happen, I promise that we’ll do everything in our power to keep you safe.” He thought for a second. “But that’s not the only thing, isn’t it.” He phrased it more like a statement than a question.

Touka stared at her hands. “...He was all I had left.”

Yoshimura remained silent, listening. She continued.

“Mom’s gone, and Dad’s gone, and now Ayato…” She took in a hitched breath. “Ayato’s gone too, and I…”

(don’t want to be alone)

“...don’t know what to do.”

There was a moment of quiet, the only sounds being the muffled chatter of those in the room outside. Then, he finally spoke:

“No matter what happens, you’ll always have us here at Anteiku. I promise.”

“...thank you.”

“Would you like the rest of the day off?”

“No, it’s…” Touka got up, rubbing her eyes. “I’d rather stay here.”

He gave her a soft smile. “Alright then.”

She smiled back.

***

Ding.

The sound of the door chimes echoed into the empty room, across chairs stacked atop tables, through unstocked shelves and barren cupboards, around a place that was devoid of life, of memory.

Touka stepped into the building, a bag of supplies slung over her shoulder. She made her way across the room to the back.

She dropped the bag onto the counter, pulled an elastic off her wrist and tied her hair back. Then she got to work.

Anteiku was gone.

It had all been so sudden, really. One moment everything was normal, and the next, Yomo was taking her far away from the 20th ward as she watched the place she called home burn. And the next, she was here.

She pulled a kettle from the bag and filled it up from the sink. She pulled it away and set it to steep on the counter.

There were so many others that were gone too, or might as well be. Hinami had disappeared, she probably would never see Yoriko again, and Kaneki…

He wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be. Rumours were rumours, and nothing more. He was alive, and he would come back one day.

You said Dad would come back too, didn’t you?

She pulled a pitcher, a filter, and some coffee beans out of the bag and began setting them up.

How did that turn out for you?

She shook the thoughts away. It was best not to think about it, best not to think about the possibilities, best not to think about him at all.

She had lost too many people already.

Mr. Yoshimura, on the other hand, she knew was gone. She’d seen the footage from the news, CCG investigators proclaiming their defeat of the “Non-Killing Owl.” Tried to look away, cover her ears, pretend that they were lying, that he was alright, and that at any moment he could turn the corner and greet her, apologize for being late, for not being there. And yet that would never happen.

She poured the water through the filter into the pitcher, then pulled out a cup and saucer.

She let out a sigh, willing the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes to recede. Filled her cup and took a sip.

Mr. Yoshimura?

She’d lost a lot in her life. Friends, family, and it never really did seem to stop. But she could live with the pain. Live on for them, in their memory, or in the hopes that they would return.

I think you would have been proud of me.

#tgpairup23 #tokyo ghoul #touka kirishima #might be a bit ooc sorry ;-;#my writing

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