#edit: small seam definition

[yeahivegotanaccount]

Deal with the devil

Anyway, 3d hard carried me but I also made the models s’all good. Here’s what I used:

and a couple of variants that I couldn’t make work

some of these could be familiar

[vincentbriggs]

so i am newly in a wheelchair which has been a Massive gain in my ability to go out and about. but i realized that i have aprox 0 clothes that look Good while seated. its a completely different silhouette and i am at a loss as to what to do for it. do you have any suggestions for what could look good seated? preferably no skirts or dresses.

Edit: Check the notes for more people's input, including actual wheelchair users who know much more about what works than I could!

Congrats on chair acquisition!!

Since you're sending this to me specifically I am working under the assumption that you mean to do some amount of sewing.

A high waisted silhouette definitely works best for sitting. I make all my pants with the waistband at my natural waist, and a bit of pleating or gathering at the back just like they did on 18th century breeches, and I've never noticed any particular discomfort from sitting in them. (I think high waisted pants are more comfortable in general, and that low rise jeans are evil.)

It's something I've never really thought about before, but sitting is a very legs-forward position, so perhaps a colourful or fancy stripe down the side would work well.

(I made this pair 10 years ago and they didn't fit well and are long gone, but I should do a better version someday...)

Or some other form of side seam decoration, like these fabulous button tabs.

(I don't know what the source for this mid 19th century fashion plate is.)

Cropped jackets would also be good. The first thing that comes to mind for me is the Carmagnole, which was a style worn by French revolutionaries. It's got a pretty similar cut to a regular 1790's coat, just shorter.

(Source)

(Source)

And there are other styles of short jacket, like this one from a few decades later.

I think it might be possible to get a similar effect from cutting down a thrifted corduroy jacket, depending on the pocket placement? It's not something I've done myself though.

A fancy little bolero could be a lot of fun too! I quite like these ones made by Marlowe Lune. Super easy to sew, and could be patterned by cutting down a bigger pattern that fits the torso.

They'd be a good thing to try if you have a smallish piece of fancy fabric, or a small bit trim to use, or want to try a small amount of embroidery.

There are lots of historical styles with sleeves too, and all sorts of decorations.

(Dunno the source for this one either, unfortunately, but the pin says 1880s reception dress. I think a little jacket like that would look good with a puffy shirt and pants.)

Short capes might be practical too, and the late 19th and early 20th century have tons of fancy capelets for inspiration, like this one.

Or this one.

I hope this is somehow helpful! I don't know if you're looking to sew things from scratch or to buy and alter stuff or what, and I have no personal experience using a wheelchair, but these are the best things I can think of for a suitable silhouette. Dramatic sleeve/shoulder puffs would also be shown off to great effect, if that's something you'd like to wear.

[saffusthings]

Baby I Can Feel Your Halo

oscar piastri x personal assistant! reader

summary: the one where the world gets to become familiar with a new name: Y/N L/N. word count: 8.4k warnings: awkwardness, my attempt and poetic writing, poor understanding of how film and media works, Lando as a bit of a side character, poorly edited writing a/n: i can't tell whether this is half decent or nonsensical. inspired by That Viral Interview. i have a soft spot for this part of the story, so i hope you guys are able to like it too.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

She’s going to kill him.

Clicking her phone on to check the time for the umpteenth time as if it will make this stupid elevator go any faster, she lets out a huff. The tapping of her shoe acts as a placebo, perhaps. Or maybe this elevator is actually getting slower-

When the metal gates finally part, she bolts. As gracefully as one can, she awkwardly half-run, half power walks past the hall of doors until she reaches Room 307.

She doesn’t even pretend to knock. Glancing at her phone one more time - 27 calls - she slips a plastic card from the lanyard around her neck. When it beeps, flashing green, the door opens with a click, allowing her to storm in.

To her credit, she at least waits for the door to close before she yells.

“Oscar Jack Piastri!”

Oscar wakes to a fire. Or at least that’s what he has to assume is happening, considering someone is screaming his name at full volume. Eyelids barely open, he immediately sits up in bed. “M’awake! Jesus, give me a second,” he mumbles, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

Tossing him his pants that had been hanging in his closet, she goes around, picking up any stray items. “Put some pants on,” she grumbles. “C’mon get up, we’re already-”

“-running late,” he says defeatedly, eyes landing on the bedside alarm clock. 

When he finally steps out of the bathroom, his brows are scrunched in confusion. She’s typing something on her phone, and definitely not trying not to look at him.

It’s been over a week since their almost-kiss in her office. She’s no rookie, she’s been more than professional since, knowing she can’t risk this. But a small part of her can’t help but think of how close his lips had been to her anytime she’s standing close enough to smell his familiar cologne. 

She’s interrupted from her thoughts by the sound of Oscar’s voice, her thumb still hovering over her phone from her long forgotten text.

Trying to get the swoop of his hair to land in some sane looking way, he gestures to the pine green sweater spread out for him on the bed, the one she insisted he wear. “You sure about this?”

He watches her as she knits her eyebrows together as she gives him the once over. “Yes. You look good in green,” she explains, still entirely absorbed in sending an e-mail to their media liaison.

It’s only once he’s finally dressed that she gets up and gives him a look over. Her lips purse before she motions for him to stand closer. “C’mere.”

She aligns the seams that are supposed to trace along his shoulder, before using her hands to smooth out any wrinkles in the soft fabric. She stands back for a moment, before coming closer again, and pulling his sleeves up just a bit in a way that exposes some of his forearm. Assessing it one more, and seeming content with how it looks, before doing the same to his other sleeve.

Entirely unaware of the chaos his cardiovascular system seems to be undergoing, she gives him one last look over, and wipes a bit of excess moisturizer that had been left on his nose.

“There we go,” she says with a small smile. 

Grabbing her things, she stands at the door before looking back for him. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, patting his pockets and searching the hastily made bed. “Just…”

“Good to go,” he announces, swiping his phone off the bedside table, and tucking into his pocket before following her into the hall. “Where are we headed?”

“They’ve set up in one of the conference rooms near the swimming pool” she says from over her shoulder as they make their way down. “It’s some Australian channel looking to do a segment on their hometown hero, so it should be a safe set. Of course, if they veer off course, let me know and I’ll take care of it. ”

“Will you be there? Or are you headed back to the office?” Oscar asks. His tone makes it difficult to differentiate whether he's nervous, wary, or doesn’t want her to be there, but he hopes she understands anyway. 

“Yep,” she replies, smiling. Oscar wonders why his chest feels warm. 

“That’s my job, remember?” 

When he gets to hair and make-up, he can’t help but feel more than a little lost. Not because of the makeup, certainly - god knows Hattie has tested more than enough ‘smokey eyes’ on him - but rather because when he sits in the chair, the woman immediately asks what kind of look he wants to go for.

Huh?

He looks over to Y/N with desperate eyes. 

Help me, please.

She’s quick to walk over and greet Lindsay, his stylist for today, with a warm smile. Once she’s sure that the stylist is okay with taking recommendations, the rest of it comes easily.

“We’ll wanna do some powder to counter the glare from the studio lights,’ she suggests, glancing at the woman for approval. Tilting Oscar’s face, the two women survey him analytically.

“It’s up to you if you want to add a little warmth, but no blush or color corrector or anything like that. And then his hair looks good like this, so we don’t need to do anything there. How does that sound?”

The elder woman nods in agreement before pointing at different parts of Oscar’s face and mumbling somethings to Y/N who nods along thoughtfully. 

Finally, he’s left at the mercy of his stylist, as Y/N walks away.

Once the mic checks are complete and the people behind the large lights give the go ahead, one of the employees counts off the seconds before the cameras start recording.

Oscar spends those seconds looking over to wherever she is. She’s stood by one of the people carrying a large white panel, watching on to make sure everything runs smoothly. They’ve done this dance probably dozens of times, but the buzzing lessens once he assures himself that she’s still in the vicinity. 

He watches her nod, giving him a reassuring smile, and then, Oscar is ready.

“And cameras are rolling 5… 4… 3… 2… 1.”

“We’re here now with Oscar Piastri,” the host says with a warm smile, “now in his second year of representing Australia in the highest level of motorsport - Formula One. Thank you so much for joining us, Oscar.”

“Of course, thank you for having me,” Oscar smiles, that polite cat smile that’s become associated with his name. “Just Oscar, is usually fine though,” he jokes, never one to feel too comfortable with high praise. The host laughs good naturedly, “Oh, the boy’s got jokes now, does he?“ Oscar seems to glow in the spotlight. Something about him, even in front of  the cameras, seems to radiate comfort, familiarity. Even on TV, even with his rising stardom, his laidback posture and the crinkle around his eyes when he smiles suggests that he could be the boy next door, that he could be your boy next door. The cameras are not the only thing focused on him. “So Oscar, not sure if you remember, but you did a sit-down with us last year as well.” “Of course. I don’t forget that easily, Mick,” the driver replies easily. “I’m not that old.” “No, no, in fact, you’re quite young aren’t you? Only 23 and already in your second year of Formula 1.” “Yeah, feels a bit strange when you say it like that,” Oscar chuckles, “but yeah. It’s been a bit of a wild ride.” Mickie smiles. “One year closer to retirement, I imagine?”

“God no,” Oscar scoffs, shifting in his seat to get a bit more comfortable. He looks more relaxed this way, more open. “I’m not leaving without a championship, so you’ll be seeing me around for a while. Sorry to disappoint.” Laughing good naturedly, the older man shakes his head. “Far from it. You’re a hometown hero. You’ve got everyone here rooting for you,” he tells him, gesturing to the crew around them.” Smiling gratefully, Oscar nods. “Yeah, I’ve been pretty lucky with all the support. That always makes a difference.” “I’m sure it does. Who would you say are your biggest supporters?” “My parents, for sure. I’m sure there’s a clip of my mom talking about my… let's call them oddities, as a child,” Oscar laughs, referring to his habit of make-believing as a car around the house, or how he wanted car magazines read to him instead of bedtime stories. “If they hadn’t put up with me through that, there’s no way I’d be here now.” It’s clear as day that beneath the thin film of humor, there’s a chasm of sincerity. He really does love his family - always making time to call them during long trips away or even just because. Working on media with Oscar is (usually) pleasant for that same reason - you don’t have to give him PR-written responses or pre-plan his anecdotes to make the audience fall in love with him. He tells the truth, and they can’t help but fall in love all on their own. “I’ve also got other supporters too. Silent supporters, I guess you could call them, since you all don’t see their faces as much. But my sisters, my team, Y/N, the fans - they are the reasons I get to live my dream everyday.” Mickie nods in acknowledgement. “Of course. Though I see we’re name dropping now,” he teases. Oscar looks up at him, mild panic hidden behind his eyes. He’s only just about to adjust his cap - a predetermined signal to Y/N that he needs her to intervene somehow - when Mickie interrupts his train of thought. “You mentioned Y/N as one of your supporters. Could you tell us a bit more about that?” When Oscar looks at the man with the salt and pepper hair, he doesn’t see the usual malice or hunger that many reporters would have if they had been in the same position. Mickie has been good to him and his team in the past - not coming off as a dog with a bone, but instead as an easy conversationalist who happens to be genuinely curious about Oscar and his life. The young driver recovers easily from his momentary scare. “Oh, yeah. Y/N’s definitely one of my greatest supports. I’d tell you all that she works for me, but I think she might poison my coffee if I did that.” The two share a laugh, easing Oscar’s nerves a little. He subtly adjusts his watch instead.

It’s alright, I got it.

From behind the cameras, Y/N takes a small breath of relief. Though she’s pleased the conversation didn’t take a turn for the rumor mill, she’ll still be a little on edge anytime her driver is in the media’s playpen.

“Alright then. Without risking your coffee, what can you tell us then? That’s not a name we’ve heard too often around the paddock.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s a shame too - she’s supposed to be my assistant, but with how much she’s involved in everything, we might have to come up with a better title for her,” Oscar smiles easily. Mickie gives him a smile, straightening his notecards into a neat stack. “Is that so? Must be high praise, coming from a big-shot like yourself.” The air is pleasant, the conversation flowing naturally. Even as an observer, the scene could almost be mistaken for a casual chat in a living room somewhere. Oscar shakes his head. “Not enough, actually. When I say I wouldn’t be here without her, I mean it literally. If she hadn’t come to my rescue this morning, I’d probably still be in bed!” Mick leans over, laughing. “Glad to see how much you value our time here together, Oscar!” “Even if I did, I value my sleep more,” Oscar deadpans, a sly smile on his face. “I don’t envy her job, not in the slightest.” “Fair enough, fair enough.” The conversation makes its own way from there - Oscar’s goals for this year, what people can expect from the team this season, how the new car has been. 

“So what I’m hearing is that we have a promising season ahead?”

“I mean, every season looks promising at the start really, but yeah, I have a good feeling about this one. Cautiously optimistic, we’ll call it.” “Well I’m sure I’m not the only one when I say that I can’t wait to see what you have in store for us this season, Oscar.” “Wow, no pressure there. Thanks, though.”

The two share a laugh. It’s getting closer to the end of the segment, but with some time remaining. Mickie decides to take the conversation in a different direction. “Now that we’re done with all the shop talk.” he starts. “I was wondering if you could tell us what Formula 1 has been like for you personally. Last time around, during your rookie season, you mentioned that the intensity of the training and the magnitude of the races were some of the things that took some getting used to. Would you say the same is true now, or have you gotten used to it?” Oscar nods, thoughtful. “Yeah, I mean, your rookie season is always an adjustment. It took me some time to get used to that stuff, and I’d say I’m better at it now,” he answers honestly. “But that doesn't mean there aren’t still things I’m learning to get used to.” “What kind of things?” “As you can probably tell, the time zones are one thing,” he laughs, animatedly gesturing to where his eye bags would be. For a second, there’s silence as he’s given a moment to think, before he finally speaks again. “I’d say the people, too.”

“The drivers, the teams, or the fans?” Mick asks curiously. “The fans are pretty great,” he tells him. “But I think I meant like the drivers and their teams?”  Oscar tries to explain. “Like, you have to understand that there’s so many people in this complex machine that is Formula 1. And every single person that’s there, is because they’ve got this insane drive to win - that includes the drivers, of course, but the engineers, and the strategists, and the trainers too.”

“Tell me a bit more about that.”

“I mean, like, even in Formula 2, with Prema, there was a certain level of friendship and camaraderie that gets overshadowed in Formula 1, because of just how competitive everything is,” he explains, gesturing with his hands. “It’s crazy how the drivers flip a switch for lights out or the chequered flag, because that’s what comes with competing at the highest level.”

The host nods, making an effort to understand.

“Would you say it strains relationships then? This sort of… dual personality that you and the other drivers have to have?”

“Honestly. To some degree, I imagine it has to. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly with one another.”

“You’d mentioned earlier this year, in an interview with your company Quadlock, actually, where they asked you if you had any mates on the grid, and you replied with…” Oscar chuckles shyly, recalling the moment. “No friends, only enemies,” he quotes himself. “Exactly,” the older man chuckles. “Would you say the same is true for you now?” “The honest answer would be yes and no.” The man sitting across from Oscar raises an eyebrow at this, intrigued. “When you live in that bubble with people that are, at their core, just as competitive as you are..” he trails off, contemplating how to phrase it. “Let’s just say it has an interesting way of showing you who your friends and your enemies are.”

“And has it?” Mick asks genuinely. “Shown you your friends, I mean?” Oscar takes a breath before replying. “I mean, of course. There’s Lando, y’know - as my teammate, he’s always my greatest competitor but also the only one who can kind of understand where I’m coming from. Logan, also - you know we grew up through the lower Formulas together. He and I have been teammates in the past too, so it’s nice to have an old friend on the grid. Y/N too, y’know - we’re pretty close in age, and she’s really been there for the highs and the lows.”

“We’ve seen you interact with Logan and with Lando, but what would you say your friendship with Y/N is like?”

“I mean, we work together, so a lot of it comes from that,” he shrugs, not wanting to slip up and say the wrong thing. He signed up for the spotlight, but putting his assistant, his friend there without discussing it with her would be unfair.

“We work in tandem, you see - she takes care of everything outside the car, while I take care of everything in it.”

The interviewer hums thoughtfully. “That sounds like a dynamic that requires a lot of trust, I’d say.”

“Maybe, but she hasn’t let me down even once in two years.” For a moment, for a fraction of a second it feels like Oscar’s eyes glance in the direction of where she’s standing with the tech crew, but it must be a trick of her imagination. They’re standing in the shadows, and it’d be a stretch for her to think that he could even see her in the first place. “Not even once.”

“Would you say your friendship complicates this dynamic, or simplifies it?”

“Helps, definitely. Easier to get out of media duties that way,” Oscar jokes. Mickie laughs easily at that, before focusing on the subject once again.

“Really?  You two don’t face any challenges with that? I’d imagine with the other drivers that that boundary is a bit more clear, what with them being your competitors and all.” Oscar lips press together, his tongue subtly running over his lower lip to soothe the pressure. “I think maybe if it were someone else, then it would be. But not with her.“

Looking over to the armchair, he can see that the other man looks surprised. 

“You seem quite confident in saying that.”

“I am,” he says bluntly. Why wouldn’t he be?

“And what inspires that confidence?”

“Just who she is, really, “ Oscar answers with a shrug. On the other side of the room, Y/N waits for a signal that never comes. 

What the hell is he doing? 

This was most definitely not one of the agreed topics for tonight’s show.

“How do you mean?” Mickie can’t help but inquire.

“I mean the obvious thing to say here would be to say that we’re close in age,” Oscar starts, gesturing. “But it really is more than that. I’m lucky to work with an immensely talented team, especially with all the fresh talent McLaren’s brought on board this year.”

“Of course.”

“But as for her in particular…” The blonde seems to think for a minute. “I think, that in order for someone to understand how we work, they’d have to understand how she works,” he muses.

“And how’s that?”

“She’s like the light you need in order to see. With her perspective, her input,  the fundamental way in which she operates - things make sense. She makes things make sense, really - whether that’s logistically, or with the car, and especially with me.”

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can even know what he’s thinking. The tricky thing about this cozy lounge setup that he’s seated in is that, from her,  it looks nothing like the studios and press conferences and media pens that they’re used to. Here, there are no clambering reporters, no flashing cameras, no microphones shoved in his face.

It’s easier to forget that the world is watching.

“It’s a bit unfortunate that the fans watching this don’t get to see her as we do,” he says with a serious expression. “Because it’s hard to describe her personality, or even just her role if you haven’t existed in her orbit. There’s this… this spark that ignites with everything she interacts with.”

Oscar finds himself thinking of everything that happened on the road so far, every step that led them here. All he knows for certain is that his confidence is not unfounded. Sure, things were… less than ideal at the moment, but they’d go back to normal. He knew they would, he was sure of it.

Not so much because Oscar had a plan, but rather because he didn’t know what to do if they didn’t. They’d figure it out - that was their thing, after all.

He’s disturbed from his thoughts by the voice of another.

“A spark?” the older man prompts with a smile.

It’s almost frustrating when the words don’t come fast enough to keep up with his mind.

“When you’re expected to function at the highest levels, there’s a lot of moving parts underneath the shiny cover that no one really tells you about. Y/N has this intuitive sense and this unlearnable skill to take apart the most challenging complexities and put them back together into something wonderful.”

The studio falls silent. 

“She sounds lucky,” Mick offers sincerely.

Oscar laughs dryly. “The way I see it, I’m the lucky one. McLaren certainly is.”

Mickie’s expression is open, leaving the silence available for him to fill.

Oscar, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure how they ended up here. Talking about Y/N wasn’t a preplanned part of the segment, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s surprisingly nice to talk about something besides how hot it is in the car or the rabbit food  athletes have to eat or his opinions on the championship standings. 

And it probably doesn’t hurt that talking about her is really quite easy.

“It’s an incredible gift to meet someone who complements each of your strengths and your weaknesses completely. And if that person happens to be someone who can somehow challenge you and support you simultaneously, then there’s nothing more that I need.”

The boom mic edges closer to the stage setup, careful not to enter the cameras’ parameters of visibility. There’s a shift in tone that’s apparent, something curious and authentic that seems to wash across the studio and everyone in it.

“Will we be seeing this dynamic duo in action anytime soon then?” the interviewer asks, charismatically guiding the conversation towards its conclusion.

“I sure hope so. Maybe you guys can finally convince her to do some of those McLaren challenges with us,” Oscar smiles widely, that dorky, lopsided smile of his. “Trust me, I tried, but somehow she won’t let me drive her around for a Hot Lap. Wonder why that is,” he shrugs, before both men share a laugh.

A hand in the dark silently signals for them to wrap up, indicating that the segment must come to an end.

“Well then, Oscar I see we’re being told to wrap,” he smiles, glancing over in the direction of the crew. Both men begin to go to stand up, extending their arms for a friendly handshake.

“Thank you so much for joining us once again. As always, it was a pleasure, and I know I speak for everyone here at Down Under Daily when I say that we can’t wait to see what the future has in store for you.”

Oscar nods, smiling, giving the man a firm handshake. “Thank you.”

Once the segment wraps up and the overhead lights come back on, the studio buzzes with the hum of activity. Uniformed crew members unpack and disassemble various machines and setups, beginning to clear out the studio. Oscar glances around, but his gaze keeps drifting back to Y/N, who stands a few feet away, chatting with one of the technicians. Her laughter cuts through the noise, bright and genuine, making something warm unfurl in his chest.

“Hey,” he calls out, a casual attempt to draw her attention. When she turns, their eyes lock, and for a moment, the world around them blurs. There’s something in her expression that sends a jolt through him, a flicker of recognition and a hint of something deeper.

“Hey,” she replies, her smile easy but layered, like they’re sharing some inside joke that only they understand. He shifts slightly, suddenly a bit squirmish under her undivided attention.

Not that he gets squirmish, of course. Oscar is the picture of cool and collected.

As her eyes scan him, she notes the slight flush of his skin, the way the muscles of his face are tense ever so slightly. It’s honestly a bit refreshing to see someone who isn’t always unfazed by it all, she thinks. She does her best to offer him a reassuring smile.

“That went well,” she comments, her voice carrying a lightness that contrasts with the tension simmering beneath the surface. It’s the kind of praise that makes him feel seen, but also a bit exposed.

“Thanks. Couldn’t have done it without you,” he responds, his tone sincere. Oscar isn’t one of those fools who thinks the whole orchestra runs around him. Even  if it did, his mother didn’t raise him to be any bit unappreciative to everyone who works behind the scenes for his successes. He knows she’s more than just an assistant; she’s the one who keeps everything in motion, the anchor in the chaos.

Her gaze lingers on him, and for a moment, the air between them thickens. He’s acutely aware of the distance that’s very much there, yet it feels charged, like static before a storm. “I just do what I can,” she says softly, brushing a loose lock of hair behind her ear—an action so simple, yet watching it feels intimate.

Oscar looks away.

The moment stretches, and he senses a shift, a palpable tension that neither of them is ready to address. Memories of their almost-kiss hang between them, unacknowledged yet ever-present. He wonders if she feels it too, this strange blend of familiarity and hesitation.

The silence is uncomfortable in a familiar way, like the awkward pause that occurs when you can’t decide who should speak first. Oscar even opens his mouth to try to say something - though he’s not sure what - Y/N beats him to it.

“How’re you feeling?” she asks, her tone casual, but he detects a deeper curiosity behind her question.

“I guess just… figuring things out,” he replies, glancing down for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. There’s moments in the midst of the whirlwind of fame and fortune where it all truly feels surreal. Young Oscar always aspired to go fast, to push himself to the limit, to win, but this?

The spotlight, the admiration , the respect, the expectations? It was almost overwhelming, a heavy medal hanging around his neck that he’s still not used to wearing. Especially with the number of people that work day and night to give him a fighting chance at making his childhood dreams into reality, there’s no greater expectation than the one Oscar places on himself.

“Trying to get it right still, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, nodding, her eyes searching his. There’s an intensity in her gaze that makes his heart race, as if she’s peering into the part of him he keeps to himself. Briefly, he wonders if she can read his thoughts sometimes.

Like on one of those teleprompters they use for broadcasts and award shows.

He wants to say more, to delve into this strange thing swirling between them, but the words feel stuck, caught in a web. The awkwardness between them might as well be a loose screw in his car - keeping him at the edge of his seat as he navigates the clunkiness that replaces the flow he’s used to. “I keep waiting to get used to it, but it never seems to happen,” he says finally, hoping to keep the conversation light.

“True,” she agrees, her smile faint but genuine. “But you manage.”

“Most of the time,” he admits, letting out a soft laugh that feels half-hearted, both playful and tinged with something meaningful. Oscar may have grown into this suave, clever, mature personality that he’s recognized for, but there are times when he still feels like the lanky teen with the acne and the too-short hair that climbed into a Formula car that very first time.

As the crew clears the set, Y/N steps back, her focus shifting to the flurry of activity around them. Oscar feels the space between them widen, the moment suddenly dissipating like a whisk of smoke. He wants to reach out, to anchor her back to him, but the tide of reality keeps them away.

“Ready to head out?” she asks, her voice interrupting the stream 0f his personal thoughts. 

“Yeah,” he replies, an uncharacteristic hesitation slipping into his tone. He can feel the warmth radiating off her, and the longing rises within him, a familiar ache that refuses to fade. He elects to ignore it, in favor of using long strides to catch up with her quick ones to follow her out into the hall.

Oscar steals a glance at Y/N, her profile illuminated by the fluorescent lights, and he wonders what it would be like to bridge that gap. He recalls what it had been like the last time he'd been in such proximity to her - felt the warmth of body, the coolness of her breath, the ghost of her lips. For now, though, he settles into the silence, allowing the moment to hang between them.

Y/N leans against the small counter in her hotel room, the yellow light from the lamp seeming to warm the place. She stares at her phone, buzzing with a handful of messages, but her mind is tangled in thoughts of today’s interview. Hearing him casually mention her, smiling as he spoke, had left her feeling a mix of pride and confusion.

As she pours herself a cup of hot tea, she replays the almost-kiss in her mind - the way his breath had caught for just a moment. It felt like a line had been crossed, but they hadn’t addressed it. It hung in the air between them like an uninvited guest, and the last thing she wanted was to ruin the good thing they had.

Her phone buzzes again, the sixth time in the last half hour. This time, however, the contact name reads: Oscar. “How’s your evening?”

“Trying to figure out the chaos that is my notes,” she replies, glancing down at loose pages, and spiral books that are splattered across the coffee table.

“You always have chaos in your notes. It’s part of your charm.” His teases, knowing full well that no matter how chaotic her notes were, they were somehow still always loads better than his hurried scrawl.

The tone of the conversation feels light, teasing, friendly - but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t feel like something more—an unspoken understanding that neither of them wants to acknowledge.

“Charm, huh? I prefer to think of it as organized chaos.” She takes a sip of the warm herbal tea, now having cooled down to the temperature of her liking. It’s grounding these little rituals - which reminds her that she still needs to change out of her work clothes, maybe shower and do some skincare…

“Sure, if that makes you feel better,” he replies easily. Even just reading the words, she can practically hear the laughter in his voice. 

A moment later, he decides to add, “I was just about to put something on the TV. You in?”

In a hotel room just a ways down the hall, Oscar’s heart rate increases. What the hell are you doing? He chides himself. He feels stupid - things were already weird, and now he probably just made them even weirder.

Relax, he has to tell himself. This isn’t new - in fact, this is normal. Like before - friends, just relaxing together after a long day of work. Airplane games of monopoly, friday happy hours, movie nights - all of this was perfectly normal. Right?

Thumbs still hovering over her keyboard, she hesitates. The idea of sitting together, sharing popcorn and laughter, sounded nice, but there was the lingering possibility that things would be strange instead.

Instead she types out, “Maybe. What are you watching?”

She could use a night off, after all.

“Something mindless, one of those cable shows they have on this thing. You know, to balance all the brainpower we exert during the week.”

She had to admit, he did make it sound inviting.

“Mindless does sound good. I’ll join you.”Oscar props himself up a bit better, leaning back on his elbow. The smile on his face is lit up by the blue light of his phone screen as he reads her reply. Forcing himself out of the unexpectedly comfortable position he’d evolved into, he gets up, phone in hand, before starting to work to make his hotel room look a tad more presentable.

He was not having a repeat of this morning.

He types out a reply. “Great. I’ll set it up.”

There is a brief pause, and he wonders if he should clear the air, just in case. He really does just want to have a relaxing evening with her - it had been a long time since they last had the chance. Conjuring up some courage, he types out another message to her. “So, about the interview…”

Reading that, Y/N’s heart races. She didn’t want to overanalyze his words, but it was impossible not to. She decides to go for the safe answer. “You did well. Really.” So maybe he was just overthinking it. The praise lifts some of the weight off his chest.

“Thanks. Felt good to share some insights. And the part about you… well, it was true.”

Had he really meant all of it?

There’s a fluttering sensation in her stomach. “Just doing my job.”

“No, really. It means a lot to me. You’ve been here through so much of it.”

The sincerity of his words has her forgetting this tension for a moment, allowing it to slip into the back of her mind. They had a rhythm, a friendship built on shared experiences, but now it felt precarious.

“I just want you to succeed, Oscar,” she tells him, words honest. “That’s all.”

“And you’re doing your part brilliantly. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His words hang in the air, thick with unspoken feelings. He’s said those same words a thousand times before, but for some reason, this one makes her heart skip. She shifts her weight, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. 

“So, movie?” she suggested, wanting to steer the conversation away before she can get too caught up in her own messy thoughts..

“Right. I’ll get it ready.” 

Rustling the duvet to make it appear slightly less misshapen. One of his hands seeks the remote to see what’s on at this time, and tries to pick the most tolerable option. Happy with his choice, he stalk over to the other side of his room, the show in the background acting as welcome background noise.

He then pulls out two packets of microwaveable popcorn from the welcome basket that had greeted him when he checked into the room, popping each of them into the microwave so the snack would be warm by the time she arrived.

Y/N stands outside the door to Oscar’s hotel room, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. Sure, she could use her emergency key card, but she decides that knocking feels less criminal. She knocks, and immediately the door creaks back to reveal his familiar face. His hair is mussed up, loose locks flopping to one side or the other. Her eyes are fogging with sleep, but  the smile he wears is warm and  sweet.

“Hey! Look who made it,” Oscar teases, stepping aside to let her in.

“Thought I’d save you from another night of mediocre cable,” she replied, a playful smile on her lips. 

She hopes it comes less nervous than she feels.

“Trust me, you’re in for a treat. It’s ‘Chef’s Disaster’ tonight. Guaranteed chaos,” he says,  leading her to the couch.

When she glances at the television that’s playing, she finds scenes of various chefs - forgetting ingredients, leaving the stove on too high,  accidentally dropping their dishes.

“Ah, the best kind of TV,” she laughs, settling in beside him. The pair of them end up on opposite sides of a generously-sized, two-seater couch. Her mind begins to whir, trying to figure out if she’s sitting too far, if it’s too late to scoot a bit closer, would that make things weirder? But when she looks over to Oscar, his relaxed figure sprawled across his side of the couch, the knot in her chest loosens a little. She allows herself to get more comfortable, curling up on her seat. Finally breathing a little bit easier, she allows herself to lean back against the cushioning.

The show flickers on, and they immediately fall into a comfortable rhythm. Y/N reaches for the bowl of popcorn he’d prepared, gathering a handful of pieces to then to slip into her mouth.

They watch as the chefs try to organize their chaos into something presentable, laughing as they watch one of the younger contestants put an unseasoned chicken into the oven.

What happened to salt? Pepper? Common sense?

In the darkness of the room, their faces are lit up only by the glow of the changing scenes flickering across the TV screen. With a subtly yawn, Oscar stretches his arms, before one coincidently drapes itself across the back of the couch, right behind Y/N’s shoulders. He can feel how her hair tickles the skin of his forearm, but it only makes him smile. He’d missed this - time together, the two of them. Life had a funny way of making people feel so close and so far all at once.

When she can’t help but giggle at someone who’d forgotten to put the lid on their blending before powering it on, Oscar can’t help but look at her.

Even at this awkward distance, even with her too far to touch - he feels lucky. He’d be happy to stay like this - to only hear her laugh instead of causing it, to watch her smile from the sidelines -  just to get to be in her orbit at all. 

He wonders if the world might stop spinning on its axis if that wasn’t the case.

His certainly would.

“Okay, chef,” Oscar said, nudging her. “What’s your go-to dish?”

Turning to glance at him, she can’t help but smile. Oscar’s smile is contagious like that, she supposes.

She hums, thinking over his question for a moment.

“Honestly? I make a pretty decent chicken alfredo. You’d be impressed,” she replied, a hint of pride in her voice.

“Pasta, huh? Fancy,” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows at her. His heart does a strange fluttery thing when she laughs. “The only thing I can make reliably is scrambled eggs,” he admits, chuckling.

“Hey, scrambled eggs are a classic! Hell, all the eggs I make end up scrambled. But you should branch out,” Y/N says with mock seriousness, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I should give you cooking lessons sometime.”

“Deal,” he says, his tone shifting slightly. Raising his hands defensively, he adds, “But no promises on the outcome.”

As they watch the chefs struggle with absurd challenges, the initial awkwardness begins to fade. They exchange jokes about the contestants, their laughter echoing off the walls. They laugh until their stomachs hurt, adding in their own commentary until there are tears in their eyes and their cheeks hurt from laughing. “I actually hate you,” she wheezes, throwing her couch cushion at him. “My nonexistent abs hurt, you asshole. Can’t you be a little more considerate?”

He catches her projectile weapon with an exaggerated ‘oof’, defending himself. “I was just providing valuable insights, really.”

The silence that settles thereafter as they try to catch their breaths is comfortable in the way that graceful snowfall is - familiar and calming, peaceful.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever cooked?” he asks, turning to her.

Y/N has to hold back a giggle, recalling a memory. She can’t remember how long its been since she was able to let loose like this. “I once tried to make soufflé. I think by the time I was done with it, it fell under the legal definition of what the pros call, ‘hazardous materials.’”

Oscar bursts out laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s a tragedy! You should’ve brought it here as a surprise.”

“I’m sure. Next time, I’ll bring my ‘signature’ dish,” she replied, rolling her eyes playfully.

Tilting her head back, she lets her eyes slip closed for a second just basking in whatever this is. It’s difficult to think of the right word for it, but quite frankly, she doesn’t care. She just wants to bottle it up and keep it with her forever. Just as they start to find that comfortable groove, a sharp knock interrupts them. Immediately, they both lift their head to turn to look in the direction of the offending sound.

“You expecting someone?” Y/N asks, her heart sinking slightly. She tries to push the feeling away. “Who is it?”

“Probably someone who doesn’t know the meaning of ‘do not disturb,’” Oscar grumbles, shaking his head as he gets up to walk over to the door.

He stands up and walks toward the door, leaving Y/N to focus on the flickering screen. But her mind drifted back to the lingering tension between them, their easy banter feeling suddenly fragile.

She nervously fixes her hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ears. Making sure she looks professional enough - and not like they were sitting a mere centimeter apart - she turns toward the door. Finally, he slides the pin aside, unlocking the door as he pulls it back.

“Who is it?” she asks him quietly.

There’s a pause for a moment, before Lando’s familiar voice calls through. “It’s me,” he replies, and Oscar seems visibly annoyed. Lando peers over Oscar’s shoulder, noting Y/N perched on one of the couches in the room.

Good, both of them were here. That’d make this a bit easier.

“You need to see this,” Lando tells them, careful to keep his tone even. Oscar nods, stepping aside and opening the door wider to allow Lando in.

“Yeah, of course. Come on in,” she replies at the same time, making sure she looks presentable. Hopefully whatever Lando has to say will save her from whatever awkwardness was probably about to ensue.

Lando pushes into the room and instantly notices that the vibe is… something. It’s *very* obvious that he’s interrupted something, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

Interesting. He files the information away for later.

Instead, he holds his phone out in front of him, a news article pulled up on the screen.

“What is it?” Oscar asks, his gaze flickering between Lando and the screen.

Lando points to the small picture in the article, and Oscar’s jaw clenches, the muscle on the side of his face visibly pulled tight. Lando observes his teammate’s reaction, before he looks over to meet Y/N’s eyes. 

“You might want to read this,” he says gently, his voice low. “You’re mentioned in it.”

That doesn’t sound right.

“I- What?”

Lando briefly wonders what the likelihood is that the ground will physically swallow him whole. Or that he might turn invisible. Or anything that means he doesn’t have to explain this.

“I don’t-“ He cuts off, struggling to put his words together, sighing. “I don’t know how they got their information, but some of these details…”

Seeing Lando - normally smiley Lando - looking so painfully neutral despite the anxiety that flashes in his eyes, feels deeply unsettling. Like dark clouds at a wedding or an empty chair at a birthday party, seeing Lando like this feels ominous, wrong.

He hands her the phone, watching her as she takes it and begins to scan the text. Words and letters blend into a blur, her eyes reading through the article - speculation after speculation on her current health status and how she got hurt. It reads less like news and more like pure gossip tabloid rumors. 

There’s an odd sinking in her chest, some muscle winding itself tighter and tighter.

She can’t stop reading it, standing eerily still. Hidden amongst this clear violation of the privacy she’s held sacred for so long are some very specific facts that only Oscar and a select few other people should be able to know and recognize. 

“This is-“ she starts quietly, her breath hitching in her chest.

It’s quiet. “This is bad.”

Her eyes continue to scan the article, and her mouth goes dry. Even when she knows it’s all mostly bullshit, there’s still a part of her that feels a little violated, like there’s suddenly not enough oxygen in the room. This is her life - her past and her trauma put on display. The most traumatic years of her life suddenly available for the whole world to read about. 

She reads it yet another time, uselessly hoping for something to change, for the words to transform or dissipate like the final wisps of a nightmare.

“One has to ask—can you really call it a "dream job" when it lands you in the ER? Y/N L/N is clearly in need of a reality check. Whispers from insiders paint the picture of a young woman entangled in a life of chaos, fueled by impulsive decisions and reckless relationships. Is she simply a victim of her surroundings, or is there a more troubling narrative at play? Recently, Y/N was hospitalized with troubling injuries: extensive bruising and a suspected concussion, allegedly the result of a wild night that spiraled out of control. Sources suggest her aggressive tendencies may have exacerbated the situation, raising alarms about her behavior and its implications for McLaren. As Y/N navigates her tumultuous life, her influence over rising star Oscar Piastri comes into question. McLaren must now confront the uncomfortable truth: her erratic behavior could endanger Piastri’s career and the team’s reputation. The last thing they need is a scandal, especially when they’re striving for excellence on and off the track. The team's efforts to sweep this under the rug hint at deeper issues within their camp. Insiders are growing increasingly concerned that Y/N’s instability could tarnish McLaren’s hard-earned image, especially as rumors circulate. As Y/N begins her recovery, the pressure mounts on McLaren to manage the fallout. Fans and sponsors alike are watching closely, and the stakes couldn’t be higher. Ultimately, the future for Y/N is uncertain. Will she take this opportunity to change her trajectory, or will she continue to spiral, jeopardizing not only her own future but also the stability of McLaren? The racing world waits with bated breath, knowing that every decision could have lasting consequences.”

Lando’s expression is sympathetic as he watches her pale. Something guilty settles in his gut - he knows he didn’t cause this, but he doesn’t know how to protect her from it either. Lando has always held loyalty so close to his chest - growing up famous at such a young age forces you to learn that lesson quickly.

It's easy, then, to understand why Lando is the way he is. He's known for his friendly personality - his charismatic charm and his easy laugh - but there are a select few which Lando considers his closest friends. Those are people he answers even in the middle of the night, the ones he’d fly across the world to be there for.

But Y/N is standing in front of him like the very ground  has been pulled from beneath her feet and he can’t do a fucking thing. 

“Um, it’s- it’s okay,” she stammers, voice shaky. She tucks her hair behind her ears again, but they were never loose in the first place. A fragile mask of calm slips over her face, a familiar trick she’s performed thousands of times before

“I can take care of this. I- I’ll take care of this.”

Her heart feels like it’s stuttering in her chest but she knows better than to show it. Taking a short breath, she whirls around to make a beeline for her office. She’ll need to make a few calls, send emails to various liaisons and communication personnel, maybe reach out to HR and PR too-

“Hey, hey, stop.” Oscar reaches out and gently wraps his fingers around his bicep, spinning her around gently to face him. His eyes are worried as he searches hers for something true. He’s seen her upset before, but now her face is pale in a way he’s never seen before.

“Oh, right,” she chuckles awkwardly, suddenly remembering. “Lando, your phone.”

She holds the phone with the article displayed on it for Lando to grab, but she eyes the device like it’s very presence is toxic. She chuckles, but the sound is high pitched and forced. “Sorry, almost forgot!”

Lando slowly takes his phone from her, his eyes flickering between his friends for a moment.

“No worries, s’fine,” he says carefully, his eyes not leaving her face. “Are you actually okay?” That’s a stupid question, you idiot.

“Me?” she asks, as if caught off guard. “Yeah, yeah! I’m fine,” she answers, waving him off.

Oscars expression is stern, unconvinced - and he doesn’t bother to hide it.

“You seem a little, uh, upset,” he says delicately, his gaze flitting to her shaking hands. He immediately looks away, not wanting to draw any attention to it. He doesn’t want her to feel exposed.

“No it’s-” horrible, she wants to say. Instead, what comes out is, “It’s okay. I’m just trying to figure out what I need to do, that’s all.”

He hesitates, his brows furrowing at her attempts to downplay what’s happening.

“And your first thought is to go work?” he points out, a small hint of accusation in his tone.

It’s like she doesn’t even hear him.

“I’m going to fix this,” she tells him, giving both of them her most convincing smile, even as the corners of her mouth threaten to twitch downward.

Breathe.

And with that, she sees herself out of the room, already planning each action she needs to set into motion. She’s going to fix this.

a/n: thank you for reading this far! feedback means a lot to me. your likes, comments, reblogs, asks - that's the only way i can tell if you like the story so pls pls pls! all the feedback!!!

[analog-mothman]

Once Again, Nykteia Has Overcomplicated Things

Download: SFS | MF Download: (EA) SFS | MF

I almost halved the size of that bun, and it's still too big to fit in the preview. Also, lots of info below the cut because there's a lot going on here!

Jennie V1 (Bun, Large): TF-EF of Jennie V1; 4.6K tris; 1024x1024 textures; my hair system with edited EA textures OR four EA textures; compressed and tooltipped; converted + edited EP12BraidBun

Jennie V1 (Baubles): PF-CF of Jennie V1; 7.4K tris; 1024x1024 textures; my hair system with edited EA textures OR four EA textures; compressed and tooltipped; converted + edited SP12TwistTails

Jennie V2 (Bun, Small): TF-EF of Jennie V2; 6.6K tris; retopo'd to Jennie V1; my hair system with edited EA textures OR four EA textures; compressed and tooltipped; EP12Braid Bun + EP03BraidedFlateBun

Jennie V2 (Elastics): PF-CF of Jennie V2; 7.3K tris; retopo'd to Jennie V1; my hair system with edited EA textures OR four EA textures; compressed and tooltipped; SP12TwistTails + EF48AssymPony

I'd apologize for overcomplicating things again, but y'all should expect it by this point

Anyway, both of the TF-EF hairs are available in both a braided and loc texture. The braids are the original texture for EP13BraidBun, while the locs were taken from SP18DreadlocksUndercut.

To compensate, both of the PF-CF hairs have two accessory colors per bin.

Jennie V2 is texture referenced to Jennie V1 to cut down on file sizes, but it's easy enough to move textures around and re-bin the hairs to remove unwanted ages and textures.

As usual, you can't have both my textures and the EA textures at once because they use the same packages.

There are some minor seams, and like all clay hairs (at least every clay hair I've ever made), they sometimes get a staticky effect at mesh edges. These definitely aren't perfect, but I tried.

A note that the hairs sit at the natural TS2 hairline, so sims may have high foreheads depending on how you make your sims.

Let me know if there are any other issues!

Credits: EA; Qwertysims & Simandy (EA actions and gradients)

Also a general disclaimer for the frankenmeshes that hairs similar to these probably exist in TS4, but I don't follow any clay hair creators. IDK someone got mad at me once so I feel the need to make that point.

Also also, yes the hair is called "BraidedFlateBun" in the files and that is not a typo.

[thylacines-toybox]

Hello! My name is Arden :>

You seem pretty knowledgeable about plushies so I thought I'd ask you about some stuff I've been having trouble with.

My build-a-bear Vaporeon, Pearl, has gotten a little worn. Her legs can't quite hold her up anymore. Do you have advice on trying to add or move stuffing so she can stand again?

I've been wanting to make custom plushies (one of my favorite human character, an alien cat, and a worm-on-a-string type oc) but I can't run a sewing machine or make patterns. I also only have limited fabric patterns and textures and have no clue where to begin.

I wanted to start a side blog similar to this one, but I'm not sure how to photograph my plush, because all my photos come out with bad lighting and innacurate colors. How do you do your photos?

Thank you for any advice! I really appreciate it!

Hi! Well, let's see...

Moving stuffing inside your Vaporeon is definitely possible, even without any sewing! See here for a little guide on how I do that with just a long needle. However, if she does need topping up, a Build a Bear is easy to add stuffing to as the closing seam where they were stuffed originally is easy to find again. Find it and carefully snip the thread, then shove stuffing down into her legs and add a little more on top, and sew her closed again with a ladder stitch.

For learning plushie making, well, you don't always need a machine or pattern making skills to get started (and really, who has pattern making skills before they begin? That comes with experience and trying things!). Hand sewing takes time, but with patience it can do anything a machine can do.

There's definitely human and cat patterns out there to buy or for free that can be edited to suit you. And a worm would be simple to try yourself, you'd probably only need one shape x2! Even if your dream designs are a bit complex for now, just try making up a simple little guy from someone else's pattern, and you'll probably just get a new OC out of it... And if you're very, very new to sewing, make a tiny square pillow!

You might be wary of jumping right in with fancy fabrics, and that's fair. Try out something like fleece which is cheap, but fairly cuddly, stretchy, and very forgiving for beginners. Minky is pretty good value and also easy to work with too! Nice faux fur is expensive and hard work honestly, the longer it is the more annoying it is...

For photos, honestly I can relate to lighting struggles! My room's windows are a bit small and especially in the winter it can just be too gloomy. I will always try to take my pics during the day with as much natural light as possible, usually on a backdrop of fabric smoothly draped over my desk chair or side table, and I'll usually step back and zoom in slightly to get a nicer angle. Honestly, I just have a pretty decent phone camera... I'll usually tweak the colours and brighten up the shadows a bit before posting.

[portsandstars]

Vere cosplay description/tutorial continued part two (belt edition).

If you made it this far, GREAT!!! You're doing fantastic.

My interpretation of his waist/below

I chose to make the belt into a skirt, rather than the whole thing as a dress. This seemed a lot easier to me than trying to combine things further, and honestly I'd definitely recommend this. I made the belt pattern by covering my torso in Saran wrap, tape (masking or duct tape) drawing the belt shape on my torso, and then cutting it out. Note that your front and back of your torso may differ in shape, so I'd reccomend drawing where your belly button is.

I then cleaned up the lines and made it into a pattern piece. Make sure it's symmetrical.. and ADD SEAM ALLOWANCE! If you're not impatient AF then I'd reccomend tracing your tape pattern onto paper so it's actually flat.

It's important for this belt to be SO STRONG because it's going to be under a LOT of strain during the day due to how it's tight and where it is on the body. Maybe it's overkill but I cut out a front and back piece(so my pattern x2), interlining, and added cotton underlining for strength to both the front and the back pieces.

Steps

1. make ur pattern with Saran wrap and tape

2. Clean up your pattern

3. Iron all your fabric and cut out your pattern (2 x of pattern, 2x of underlining cotton, 1x of interlining)

4. Staystitch and zigag fabric (except not the pleather bc we don't care Abt it as it doesn't fray)

5. Attach your interfacing to the cotton (front side cotton) and then baste the cotton to the pleather (front and back). So now you have 2 pieces of the belt, inside and outside piece.

6. Make the pattern for the strips of leather on the front. You should trace your belt pattern and then draw on the strips onto this tracing. They can't be straight lines bc this belt is a C shape tbh, and so they are almost like mini belt patterns. Don't forget seam allowance for their hems!

7. Sew these straps to the outside piece. If you have an idea for the metalic front belt details it would be great to attach them here in this step but I didn't bc I didn't have a good idea (might get them 3d printed though).

8. Freestyle some pockets bc ur gonna rly want some on the inside. I made one the size of my phone as well as credit cards.

9. Sew the pockets to the inside of the belt piece.

10. Put right sides together and sew the top seam of the belt together (seam by your belly button). Belt is like )( now. clip this inner seam.

11. One option you have is to now hem the bottom of the outside and the inside. In this case, you would put the pleated hanging fabric between these two layers and then topstitch it down. This isn't what I did but it'd look better imo than having it hand stitched to the inside. If you don't want to finish it this way, keep the right sides facing each other , sew the bottom hem, and then turn inside out. This will not be possible if you've added stiff belt details btw.

12. Figure out your pleating. I did this by pinning my fabric to my waist while was wearing shorts and seeing what density of pleats looked like and how it compared to what I wanted. It'll depend on how translucent your mesh/tulle is. You can do a small section, and then extrapolate. For me, I did a test of 17.5 cm of freehand pleating which I discovered was 98 cm of fabric (unpleated). As I needed the top pleated edge to be 44.5 cm long, that was-250 cm of fabric for EACH SIDE. These side skirt things are REALLY awkward bc you need all this pleating at the top to get the look but at the bottom, it's supposed to be little wider than a foot or so. Below I demonstrated my end shape with paper. You start with the wide top for the pleating, and the bottom the ending width you want it to be. Then, place weights at the corners and bring up the edges. Cut off the excess. Pleat the top edge as you would normally ignoring the odd shape and it should work out. The proportions in the bottom image is NOT ACCURATE Bc the top edge should be 250 cm and the bottom edge like.. 40 cm.

13. personally I just sewed the pleats to some small strips to keep everything together and then handsewed them to the inside of the belt (with my arm insidethe belt, like a pillowcase). But like I said, you could easily add them into the seam of the belt for a neater look.

14. Add your black gauze in here. Tbh it doesn't need a weird shape it can just be a rectangle that you pleat

15. I placed an unpleated mesh pannel behind the pleating and sewed small tacks throughout so the fabric stayed pulled back to the side. It felt too skirt like (?) Without this and more puffy, too. You don't have to do this but it was my solution and was pretty unobtrusive.

16. Hand fix your chains in. The cotton is also important for supporting these bc they're heavy af. I used chandelier chains, and I'd reccomend getting some where the links are NOT welded shut or it will be difficult to adjust the length of the chains without heavier duty metal working equipment.

17. Add in some structure! If the belt is an open pillowcase, this goes where the pillow would. I used a stiff plastic folders (below) cut into shape (smaller than the pattern by a bit so it doesn't mess with seam allowances). This gives your belt SO MUCH HEFT and is great!! You could also use foam too! Highly reccomend!

18. Add a closure. Personally I used a zipper, but a corset back would work great too especially if you fluctuate size. We don't see his back yet so you can do what you want lol.

19. Personally I added some wire to the bottom hem of the tulle to help it be straight and hang better with the weight but I didn't really like how this turned out.

Just for posterity, here's the pattern I made for the legbands. They're prettttty close but not SUPER close. I'd recommend covering your leg in ductape and having yourself or someone else try to draw the shapes in a mirror. It's wack AF though so I thought seeing what mine looks like laid flat might help you.

[penelopedreadful]

These two are probably one of my favourite sets of characters I've ever made, and definitely my favourite to work on.

Meet Pennetech Nyst (I am considering changing her name to Penjack or Pentrix or something else, at the time Pennetech "Penny" Nyst just sounded good), and her Guardian, Socket.

Guardianship is a magic that exists solely in the city of Neo-Shanblister. Legends say that the gods of light and darkness made themselves guardians, the sun, Solace, and the moon, Crater, to fight for the universe, and Earth was made as a battlefield for their guardians to fight. After both guardians beheaded one-another, making the sun and moon, the gods both died of broken hearts, and the spot the guardians died in eventually became Shanblister, then Neo-Shanblister.

The magic itself allows an individual's attachment to an item or creature to cultivate and grow a guardian soul. In the case of an item, that soul can enter them at any time, and takes a small part of the guarded's soul with them to finish it. In the case of a creature, after the creature passes, its soul mingles with the guardian soul and returns to the creature's body. In either case, the item gains powers based on its nature and its meaning to the guarded who brought them to life. The threat this magic could pose has led to the government of Neo-Shanblister walling off the city to stop those from outside who may want to use the magic for their own purposes.

Socket was a plush made by Penny's grandmother, the only member of her family she was close to due to neglect and poor treatment from her parents. Her grandma passed before finishing Socket, never able to complete his mouth, but Penny loved him regardless, and in the absence of anyone else who seemed to care for her, she took him on as her best friend, which became all the more literal when he gained life.

As a plushie, Socket gained a lot of fitting powers, such as the ability to manipulate threads and fabric, and the ability to take infinite amounts of impact without harm. Due to Penny's grandmother teaching her how to knit and sew, he can also summon different needles, scissors and other useful contraptions. He can change his stuffing for different means, adding weight to be used as a weapon or beans to be fired out like pellets, can negate gravity to simulate games he and Penny played before he gained sentience, and he can store items inside himself by opening his seams.

Penny's grandmother also left all her money to Penny after her passing, allowing Penny to leave her parents behind and move into her own apartment. She and Socket now spend their days hanging around in parks and on the rooftops of Neo-Shanblister, enjoying the everlasting night of the walled-off city... and investigating the many strange happenings that go on, almost always leading them to someone else's guardian in the process.

This is my third design for these two, and while Socket never really changes much because he's perfect, Penny's had some fairly significant design changes, and I think I like how this one turned out. I wanted to capture the slightly sci-fi vibes of her environment, not super futuristic but a bit neon, and in lieu of actual neon colours, I think the patterns and inventive aspects to her outfit really sell that.

Hope you guys like it, I really like how it turned out.

Edit: Changed the text colour to something that will stand out on light or dark mode, since I realised it was blending into the white on my screen.

[sophia-helix]

29. What’s your revision or editing process like?

It depends on what writing the fic was like — I am a linear writer, so getting out the first draft is most of the work, and the final product generally resembles it in overall shape if not details. I try not to reread too much while writing and get caught up in tweaking the draft, or else I’ll never get it finished.

If writing was a rough, lengthy process where I was just gritting my teeth and getting words out until the story was finished (the woooorst), then editing is usually a relief because now I can polish and rewrite and move bits around and add things until my original idea is much clearer. Times like that I will repeatedly wail that I hate writing and what I really want to be is an editor, because I love having distance and a finished draft to fix.

The rest of the time, editing is just a round of beta and making small changes and then out the door because I try not to beat myself up over fanfiction too much.

I’ve only had a few stories where I really needed to do significant revision or editing work once the final draft is done, and even then I have to constantly allow myself the escape valve of “it’s just fanfic” because I’ve learned that the harder I work to make something “good” when I feel like it isn’t, the more that effort shows through the seams and frankly the more disappointing the audience response is. I’ve long since gotten over the idea that only effortless stories I toss off in a day are worthwhile, and I’ve definitely had very gratifying responses to stories I worked hard on, but if there’s a big gap in my head between what I’ve actually produced and what I think it should be, I really need to accept that it won��t get bridged and just let it go out into the world and write the next thing.

[kleinstar]

"Yayyyyyyyy it's your birthday Eddy!"

"Sorry I missed it because of my date, but look what I got you!"

She presents him with a covered tray and lifts the lid with a flourish on his kitchen table.

"Ta-da! I made it myself!"

It's a beautifully elaborate cake, but small enough to share for two.

"Oh, the gold foil's edible too. Hurry up and eat it with me since the center's made of ice cream. I made that too of course, hehe!"

Besides that, she stuffs a...plushie into his arms? Except this time it's not some fancy limited edition merch, but a customized, connected plush of Ark and Eiden holding hands.

"This is one of a kind," Mary Sue adds with pride. "I sewed it myself and it's waaaaaay better than any stuff you can get from stores! Look, I even included the special sheen in Ark's irises with special metallic thread!"

Hopefully that makes up for her being a day late! Dates are Serious Business, after all.

" Hehee! No problem! Sometimes you just have to do stuff right--- "

" Ahh, more cake huh? It does look great though for real! "

Well, it's better to get it now than yesterday, he might have collapsed on the spot otherwise. Ice cream makes a great change of pace though. And it does look pretty!

The plushie however catches him totally offguard. The seams and the details are all so clean it might as well be an official thing. In hands it feels warm and soft. Eiden's eyes definitely light up there.

" Man I should up my sewing game too, this is so cool!!! You sure got skills...."

He squeezes it tight.

"Thanks a whole bunch! The ice cream sounds great for the weather huh! You mind carrying it, let's eat it with this guy on the table with us haha! There's other treats too if you want to try out--- "

[sheliesshattered]

I’m getting so close to done on the mock-up for Rhaenyra’s red dress, and I am so excited!

A few days ago I decided to try taking the mock-up in a little along each of the 10 seams, starting at the underbust and waist and high hip, and then easing out into just a slightly narrower skirt. Even just pinning it in made the whole thing look much better, so I decided it was worth it to re-sew the seams and see if I want to make the changes to the paper pattern.

I only took about 2mm in at the waist on each side of each panel, but multiplied by 20 (10 panels, 2mm each side) it’s actually a reduction of 4cm over all, which I was worried would be a bit too much but turned out to be pretty perfect. The high hip came in about 5mm at the seam line, and from there I just drew a straight line from the new waist measurement to the new high hip measurement and continued that line straight down to the floor. 

At the hem it works out to a reduction of about 62cm total -- spread evenly across all 10 panels of course -- which should leave me with a hem circumference of 245cm (~2.67 yards). It looks a lot more similar to the width of the skirt in the show-worn dress than it did before, and bringing in the torso helped the overall look quite a bit, too.

Once those adjustments were done, I was able to focus on just the few little places that still need a bit of tweaking. The lower curve of the back armscye needs to extend out a bit further than it currently does, and I want to pinch out just a liiiittle bit in the overbust area where the center front meets the side front. I think the center front shoulders are also sitting just a bit wider than I’d like them to, so I’m going to redraft that bit to be closer to vertical than it is now.

While I was doing all that pinning and marking, I got to the question of the neckline, which I had raised slightly when I redrafted the center front panel during all the bust adjustments a week or so ago. I just kind of eyeballed it based on the width of the trim and how low I thought the necklace would sit on me, but now-- 

Last month when I decided I was definitely for sure doing this cosplay, I went ahead and ordered the screen accurate necklace from the maker on Etsy, knowing that it was shipping from Italy and would take weeks to get here. I was kind of half-thinking of it as a birthday present to myself (along with the rest of the cosplay I guess, heh) and had resolved to not even open the package until my birthday. But it arrived yesterday! And so while doing adjustments today, I realized that I could try on the actual necklace and figure out if I need to make any changes to the neckline in this last round of edits before I move on to the silk fabric.

So even though there’s still about two weeks until my birthday, I went ahead and opened the cute little wrapping the necklace arrived in. The necklace itself is lovely, looks absolutely perfect in terms of screen-accurateness, and the chain is super long but I knew it would be, I’ll trim off the excess at some later point. I put it on and adjusted the chain length so it was sitting right below my collarbone. Then I pinned down the 1cm seam allowance at the front neckline (the final version will be getting an interfacing of silk organza cut on-grain to help support the weight of the trim+beading) and tried the dress on aaaand... It’s perfect. No edits necessary, lol. I could have waited another two weeks to try the necklace on, but I’m glad to know that the neckline doesn’t need to be higher or lower or anything. :D

So next up, I’m going to make those few small adjustments to the paper pattern -- bringing in the upper few inches of the center front so it’s more vertical and less off-the-shoulder; extending the back armscye by just a tiny bit; truing up the upper portion of the side front and side back where they meet the center front/back, so the shoulder seams lie the way I want them too; transferring all the taking in at the waist and skirt to the paper pattern; and then re-truing the skirt panels to make sure they’re all the same width again (I’ve come so far from trying to just draft them all at a 7° angle, lol).

And once all that is done, the paper pattern will be finished! Since these last changes are so minor relatively, I’m not going to re-cut any of the mock-up. The next step will be starting in on the underdress by tracing the pattern onto the black silk organza. If there are any last little changes I want to make based on how the underdress fits, I’ll have the chance to do it before starting on the outer layer.

I don’t have tracking info for the red silk fabric, but I expect it’ll arrive some time in the next week or so. My silk pins arrived today, the cotton thread in both red and black a couple of days ago, and the narrow trim that goes over the seams arrived on Monday. The only other thing I’m really still waiting to arrive is the 65/8 microtex machine needles I ordered, but I do have some 70/10 microtex that I used to sew a narrow zigzag on the cut edges of the organza before I washed it. The fabric still had holes in it after I took out those zigzag threads, but it didn’t snag or anything, so if I get antsy waiting for the 65/8s to arrive, I can try using the 70/10s. 

But I still have several steps to go before I’m ready to even do the stay-stitching on the black organza under layer, much less actually sew the seams. And this last week at work was weirdly slow, so I was able to squeeze in a little sewing/drafting/fitting here and there -- but I expect the next two weeks will be a lot busier. In all likelihood both the needles and the red fabric will arrive before I’ve got all the pattern pieces traced onto the black fabric.

Even just at the mock-up stage, it’s starting to look so much like Rhaenyra’s dress, and I am so excited, all I want to do is work on it and get it looking more and more like the real thing and uuuugghhhh. I’m well on track for getting it done in time for Dragon Con without any rushing, but knowing that I may not have much time to work on it for the next two weeks is definitely a sadness.

[mommiessecret]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Realisation Par Emilie Shanghai Nights Mini Dress Small Asian.

[jacentric]

WHAT THE HECK THIS BREAKDOWN IS WONDERFULLY CRAZY THANK YOU SO MUCH

I LOOOOOVE talking about quilting so I will gladly give responses to each of this points YES

- first one yes quilting is more of the umbrella term here. if you wanted to get specific with it it’s technically appliqué and piecing. for those not in the fiber fields, appliqué is taking a piece of fabric and putting it on top of another piece of fabric. basically like collage which is the majority of this pillow. piecing is putting the right sides of the fabric together, stitching down the edge, and then unfolding to reveal a nice hidden seam. the piecing for this is the table cloth to the background and the border to the middle. the border itself is a flying geese pattern that i did english paper piecing for. (it’s easier to go look that one up if ur curious but short answer it’s sewing with a piece of paper as your guide) *edit here i have photos of the english paper piecing in progress below if you're curious

- yup it’s about 15 inches or 38 cm square. so that was a hell of a lot of sewing 😅 i’ve been doing this type of work seriously/full time for the last 5 years. there were sooo many pieces that went into that border. and on one of the sides i took the time to be picky about how i was cutting the navy fabric so that the fall desserts were framed in the geese pattern. (i gave up afterwards bc it’s a smaller detail that you can't really see but its there on the border on the right of the complete pillow) here’s the progress photos of that part! i did chain piecing as well so they were all strung together (you can see that in the third photo)

- i loooove to just wing my projects when they don’t need to be specific so the process on this was 1) sketch the design 2) choose the pillow to make a cover for 3) figure out the border size 4) sew together the main background pieces (plaid and brown) 5) make all of the appliqué pieces 6) sew them on either by hand or with machine. the pieces by hand were: leaves, candy, and cookies. (the candy took the most time) and the faces and the chains were embroidery. 7) attach border to middle 8) attach the back of the cover 9) put it on the pillow. the original pillow is a rainbow plaid pillow that i wove on a floor loom. here’s the best photos i found of the pillow on my phone and a photo of the project i’m currently weaving on my loom for a bit of process there too if ur interested. (disclaimer: i made the pillow a few years ago and the cover i made for it is removable so this rainbow pillow isn’t gone forever 😂😅)

- there are lots of different fabrics here! most of them are basic cotton fabric. dreams grey hoodie is from an actual hoodie that i use as fabric for other projects. i like to use a lot of recycled/scrap materials so the faces are from pillow cases that were fraying real bad. dreams cat beanie is actually crocheted! i have made two other 2D crocheted cat beanies in the past for my friend and I to wear to the droncert. i couldn’t find the best photo of them but here’s mine 😂 crocheted with embroidery floss.

- the hood and most of those other pieces you are seeing as a backstitch were sewn with a sewing machine. a very small stitch length was needed and it was difficult to follow the side of the pieces accurately

- i was hoping no one would see the faces!! 😂😂😅 i was working on a white table so they looked just fine (the photo above) and then i already started sewing them onto the brown fabric before i realized that i should’ve thrown another fabric behind them 😂 definitely one of those moments

- the candy was definitely a pain 😂 i cut out the individual candies and hand sewed them all on there bc they were just toooo tiny for machine sewing to look good on them. they actually came from the same fabric as the cookies too! this photo you can see the individual candies laid out. i also did fold over all of the candies 😅

- exactly that for patches eyes! i figured it’d be held on together well enough to not have to go through that extra headache of folding them. here’s a photo that has patches without her full eyes. i ended up doing the same for dream and georges hair. too many curves that'd make it look messier than if i were to just let it fray a lil bit

- i have no idea exactly which fabric it is for patches. i found that fabric with a wild dye pattern on it and thought it would work great for patches. i tried to find a section that had the white going down the middle of her face too. you can see in the second photo some of the extra fabric in the top left corner of the image

- the pumpkin is layered exactly like you said and is actually done by machine! they’ve got a stitch that makes that weird zig zag to it. i used stitch #9 for it

- and yes leaves by hand! i ended up putting the exact stitch and color up for a vote here a while back so thank you to whoever voted there 😂 i did the brown thread with a blanket stitch. the same stitch is used with purple thread on the cookies. (*edit i think thats actually not the blanket stitch for the purple. i think i realized you can't see the blanket part of it so its just the horizontal stitched there) my sewing machine had some weird tension issues with the bobbin so the zig zag stitch ended up looking pretty rough. the three photos at the bottom are the sample ones with the blanket stitch, zig zag stich, and invisible stitch in that order

- all in all i have no idea just how long this took me 😅 definitely a ridiculously long amount of time. somewhere over 20 hours probably over a span of a week or so?

i absolutely loooooove doing this type of work though so while it was a nightmare to work through at some parts, i’m suuuuper happy with how it turned out and love the process anyways!

and holy shit thank YOU so much again for this breakdown!!! my jaw dropped when i saw it!!! i'd love to keep talking about this stuff so please send questions or comments my way if you want to talk more fibers things even beyond this pillow!

happy halloween @pennotfound !!

✨🎃✨👻✨🎃✨

for your gift, here’s dnf celebrating halloween together! they made halloween cookies, have a bowl of dteam colored candy, and carved a pumpkin (with help from patches of course).

i’m a fiber artist so this was all quilted and stitched into a pillow case! complete with a tiny crocheted cat beanie for dream and the iconic chains. more photos and detailed photos below the cut :)

thank you @sappymix1 for putting this exchange together!

[riku-writings]

ADMIRATION

Pairing: Mitsuya Takashi x Fem! Reader

Summary: Reader likes to fantasize about The Home Economics Club Leader's Hands.

Warnings: Smut with a smol plot, Fingering.

A/n: I am not really sorry about this ꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡,,, inspired by that one megumi oneshot in wattpad that i read ages ago. . .((edited hundred times since i just realized now that some of the smut parts were messed up even though i checked it multiple times,,, I'm sorry for the confusion i hope i got the order right ಠ,_｣ಠ)

Wc; 2k

It started with just an innocent admiration of him being a charming dude, that's all. The guy's a good student, an overall husband material with his sewing and cooking skills. He was heaven sent with his overall visual ( dyed hair, piercings and his eyebrow slits). Everyone knows he's a delinquent because of that Pehyan dude who would fight with Yasuda-San just to excuse mitsuya out of the club. Despite his delinquent bg, Mitsuya was respectful and patient. Making every girl and boy swoon over him.

A bad boy with a soft hubby side. Best of both worlds they would say.

You were part of it. The Home Economics Club, they were lying if the whole club wasn't a simping club for the one and only Mitsuya Takashi. It was only yasuda and you who took the club for extra credits. The others well, you could say they were there to see him. Eitherway everyone was cooperative and hardworking.

Not only were you with him in that club. You were his classmate. Even better, his seatmate. You always get a view of his charming side profile.

You find yourself just staring at his features, from his long lashes to his pointed nose, down to his lips. Sometimes his tongue would dart out, out of pure concentration. (You noticed this whenever you try and get his attention to check your work in the club)

Your eyes always latching itself down to his hands. Not that you're a complete freak but you appreciate it. Like if someone asked you what body part attract you the most. You would definitely answer, hands.

His hands were the prettiest especially when its enclosed with those rings that has a cross engrave on it. It was veiny, fingers elongated and a bit bony. Nails cleanly cut. His wrist always had a silver bracelet on it. You don't know why was that attractive.

You had an unpopular opinion that it was soft to touch. You wonder if your thoughts were true. You can feel yourself blush at the thought of him just holding your hand.

You can't help it but you just stare at them with pure admiration. Due to this, you noticed how he liked twirling a pen around his middle and index finger. Fascinated, you tried it once, though you failed. You not knowing he was looking at your failed attempts. Grinning.

"y/n are you listening?" A voice called pulling you out of your own embarassing thoughts. You look up at the owner of the hands you've been staring at for a while now.

"U-uhm yes?"

"Tell me how did you end up with this then?" Mitsuya raises his brow, your messed up fabric lifted up by him. The girls around you giggled at your clumsy behaviour. You retrieved it. "Ehm, I'm sorry leader can you explain it again?"

"Alright, listen this time dummy" He says with a teasing grin, ruffling your hair gently. He sat next to you. Using the seam ripper to remove your mistakes. You just stared at his fingers pointing at where you should redo it.

You wondered how he would shove it in your mo—

You mentally slapped yourself. As you crossed your legs together at the sudden image that came over your mind. "You okay? y/n?" Mitsuya stared at you noticing how you pressed your thighs together. "Hmhm" You responded.

"Leader! can you check this?" Another called out for mitsuya. He stood up and pats your shoulder.

"alright, I'll leave it to you then" He smiled.

The next days you tried to scold your mind for having intrusive thoughts of Mitsuya and his hands. Unfortunately, your mind developed a sudden kink with it. Making every imaginary situation more. . . . lewd.

"Hey Y/n! Hold up your hand" Your classmate suddenly called you lifting his hand towards yours. You knew exactly what he was trying to do, since he's been busy tryna do that with the other girls this morning. "Eh? I don't want to." You replied.

"Bet if mitsuya did it, y/n would do it!" Another classmate of yours shouted from the back. You raised your middle finger, continuing on cramming your homework.

"Leader~ Can you do that for us~" The boys teasingly called mitsuya. Who was back from his lunch raising an eyebrow at them. Hands pocketed "Do what?"

"We're just comparing hand sizes" They shrugged lifting up their hands. "Y/n won't let us~~"

"Eh? Stop bothering y/n." Mitsuya say in his deep voice his feet landing a hit on their butts, before proceeding to you. The men in the back groaned.

Bending to meet your gaze. He grinned "Now you owe me, work on your missed templates with me later" The lilac haired boy reminded. You just rolled your eyes on him mocking a tongue out. He chuckled. "And I thought you just saved me, leader."

You stayed with him in the club room. Doing your templates beside him. Him just handstitching a bunny like doll. The room slowly darkening as the sun sets. He turned on a lamp beside his table. Slowly the other girls started to leave the club room, waving their goodbye's to Mitsuya.

"Hmmmm you've been spacing out lately, are you okay?" He coughed softly referring to your messed up works recently. Eyes going to you.

"Me? spacing out?" You acted dumb, you scoffed in a fake manner. Brushing your hair with your fingers to shake off your stiffening state.

Not meeting any of his gaze, you just continued to sketch.

Did he figure it out? Did he catch me staring at his hands? Nah I need to stop overthinking.

"Alright then." Silence invaded the whole club room again. Your eyes roamed around realizing the rest of the girls left already leaving you two alone.

"Hold your hand up." Mitsuya suddenly commanded. Eyes going to him, you raised your brow. "I wanna know— our hand difference." He explained raising his hand infront of you. Placing his doll down the table.

"You know the boys in our class are just a bunch of perverts right?" Speaking like a fucking hypocrite, your actions didn't match up with your words. Almost instinctively, you faced him holding them up. He pressed his against yours.

Your insides melt at this gesture. Your theory confirmed that he has actually, soft hands.

"You have cute small hands" His lips curled up, slowly his fingers intertwined with yours, locking it with his. "Well yours rough" You lied, cheeks burning as you looked at your connected hands. "Is that so?"

Abruptly, mitsuya pulled you close to him. Making your other hand rest on top of his shoulder. His face centimeters away yours. Lips almost brushing.

"So is this what they're trying to do with you?" He asks in a low voice his eyes piercing through you. Craning his neck, curious.

"Yeah. . . " You broke eye contact. "Good thing I stopped them." He chuckled, eyes closing. He leaned back. Patting your head.

Funnily, that interaction with him didn't stop your thoughts. Actually it made your whole dirty secret worse. Just seeing him tapping his fingers on his lips as his chin rested on his palm. Made your mind run thoughts about the things his hands would do to you.

You leaned back looking around the morning peace in the clubroom. You were always the first one to go here. Since it's more quiet that way.

You closed your eyes craning your neck side to side. Loosening up a bit.

What would his fingers feel wrapped around your neck— no. no.

You shifted on your seat, pressing your thighs together. Mentally slapping yourself.

Changing your attention, your sight caught your pen. Picking it up you tried to do that cool trick again. Trying to twirl it around in between your middle and index finger.

"Ohhh you're trying to do it again?" Mitsuya popped out of nowhere. You jolted a bit, making him laugh. You clearly didn't see him coming in.

He hovered behind you, his chest pressed on your back as he rested his hand on your desk right beside yours. He leaned in observing your half-done project. "Again?" You asked head turning towards his face.

"Well I saw you trying to do this"

He pulled his other hand up grabbing your pen, his fingers did it in ease. "no need to brag leader-san" You tell him grabbing your pen back. "Looks like you're gonna stay with me again later" Mitsuya mentioned pointing at your work.

After classes you proceeded to your clubroom already, knowing you're gonna take so long with your project. Though you were greeted by yasuda leaving you with her tasks because apparently she also had friday plans like the others. The others always had friday plans that it would leave you, yasuda and mitsuya with the work.

"It's okay yasuda-san! I promise to clean up and remind leader to lock the door!" You assured her, she then finally nodded. "Fine fine— Also don't let that slimy delinquent distract leader" She added, you nodded giving her a big thumbs up, she then waved her hands leaving you all alone with the mess of excess papers and fabric from this morning.

You tied your hair as you clean up the place before doing your own project. You actually sat on the front desk as you look around feeling satisfied. Finally continuing your hand stitch. (You gave up after breaking 3 needles into half with your machine.)

You stay seated on the front desk, comfortably doing your own project. Humming a few songs here in there. The door then slid open.

"I'm guessing yasuda san has plans?" Mitsuya came in seeing you on his desk. "yup" You nodded eyes focused on your stitch. Sudden fingers gripped your knees.

"You should stop manspreading in that skirt" He scolded you pushing your knees together. You shivered at his touch against your skin. Due to this sudden awareness of his hand still gripping your lower thighs— you accidentally pricked your finger on a needle.

"Ouch." You hissed as you saw your finger starts to ooze out blood. "You're so clumsy" Mitsuya clicked his tongue removing the cloth on your hands bringing it down to the side. He grabbed your hand and started sucking on your finger.

"U-uhm" You widened your eyes as you saw the sight of mitsuya sucking your index finger. You blushed profusely at this. "Eh? I- I — you didn't have to do that" He finally let go of your finger.

"I don't have bandages on me—plus that always does the trick" He says wiping it. You just nodded looking around. "Tsk what is it that got you distracted again hm?" He questions furrowing his brows he leaned closer to you. He layed his hands on the table, locking you in.

"Ugh you really want me to say it huh?" You groaned. He craned his neck to the side. Waiting for you to continue. "Okay— I may have a small admiration towards your hands. . ."

"Admiration?"

"Well it was honestly innocent at first until it got all dirty and as much as I wanted to get it out of my head you suddenly do things to me"

"And what was my hands doing?"

"Mitsuya . . "

"No dove tell me" He said as the choice of endearment shoot straight to your core. Making you shift on your seat.

"hm shoving it in my mou—"

Mitsuya shoved his middle and index finger inside your mouth. Your cheeks burn at the sudden action. His other hand held your waist, holding you closer. "You like this?" He asked with hooded eyes. Your tongue twirled around his finger, he slowly discarded them letting out a popping sound as it came out of your lips. Feeling your chest warmed up down to your lower belly.

"Is this why you're so distracted lately? because you're too busy thinking about my hands?" He then held your chin with his fingers as he hummed. Lips inching closer to yours. You just nodded feeling feverish. "Do you want me to kiss you?"

Once again you nodded. You can feel the growing lust underneath your skirt. Pressing your thighs together to relief the heat. Mitsuya following the movement. His eyes went back to pierce through yours.

"Say please" He smugly commanded. You pouted.

He taps your lips. Wetting it with your own spit.

"Please kiss me."

Mitsuya leaned in to claim your lips, you lightly gasped as his lips finally touch yours. Closing your eyes, you melt into his kiss. He smirked at his before his hand on your waist went up to your hair tie, pulling it to let your hair flow against your shoulders.

He then licked your lips, instinctively you opened your mouth allowing him to enter his warm wet muscle inside. You whimpered at this, feeling your feverish state get warmer. Spreading all over your body. He caressed your cheek as he kissed you deeper. His other hand caressing your side, slightly brushing up against your chest. You hummed against his lips.

Biting onto your bottom lip he licked it. Before leaning back, placing a soft kiss on yours before taking in your whole panting visual.

"Do you want me to touch you, dove?" He questions, his thumb now pressing onto your bottom lip. His left hand went down on your thighs, softly pinching them.

"Please touch me, takashi"

With that his fingers indulged inside the band of your damp underwear. "Hm you're so wet, princess" He hummed letting his finger brushed up against your folds. You squirmed under his touch, your pussy clenching around nothing.

"Is this what you're thinking about in class?" He whispered next to your ear, placing a hot kiss on your cheek. You nodded, biting onto your red lips. As his middle finger continued to slide so easily with your wet slick. Up and down teasing both of your sensitive clit and your pleading hole.

You then felt the pad of his fingers teasing circles on your entrance, you looked at him with glossed eyes. He licked his lips seeing you practically begging for it.

His other hand held the back of your knees spreading your legs to gain more access. You leaned back supporting your weight with your hands.

Letting your skirt ride up, He bit his lips as he saw your ruined flimsy panties with his hand in it. You just looked at him with a pout wanting his fingers to penetrate your hole. "Please" You plead him trying to grind into his hand. Without caution he plunged his two fingers in your heat.

You bit back a moan. "Don't hold back now, dove." He said with a smug as he felt your hole clench around his fingers. "I-I can't takashi" You say feeling little under him. He chuckled at your pouting lips before placing a kiss on them. "Acting shy now huh"

Mitsuya curled his fingers inside making you squirm. "Don't move." He warned before pounding his hand into your writhing pussy. His long fingers hitting your soft spot almost immediately. You moaned letting your forehead clash itself against his. "You're taking my fingers so well baby. So noisy" He said referring to the slick slapping sounds of your wet pussy. You blushed at this ashamed on how you were making a mess on his hands.

"Aa you're so lewd— bet you've touched yourself multiple times thinking about this" He said adding another finger in your hole easily. You sobbed at the sudden feeling of fullnes inside "Hmm too much"

"Too much? you're a good girl you can take it" He says kissing your cheek once agaib. He thrusted his three fingers into your hole curling it up to feel your spongey walls clenching into him tighter.

"Mmn t-takashi—k-kiss" You mumbled feeling yourself itching up to your own orgasm.

"You want a kiss baby hm?" He hummed as his thrusts got harder and faster. Knuckles deep, the tip of his fingers hitting your sensitive spot. You purred nodding, He kissed your lips deeply making your moans muffled. You felt hot inside you as you panted trying to comprehend everything that he was doing to you. With that you felt your orgasm continue to build up. Your head leaned back breaking off his kiss, grinding back into his hand. Mitsuya felt yourself tighten continuing to hit on your sweet spot. Your own wetness beginning to drip down.

His thumb finally taking notice of your abandoned nub. He played with it. You squirmed as you feel it burn against his thumb.

"'m close" You squeak biting onto your lips. "Go on baby cum on my fingers" He said littering kisses on your neck, hands pounding into you harshly. With those words and his thumb rubbing your sensitive clit. Your thighs started to fidget. You closing your eyes shut as you panted.

You came onto his fingers. You let out a whiny moan as His fingers slowly ride out your high.

"Good girl" He said pulling his fingers out your panties. Your eyes opened seeing him cleaning his fingers clean with his tongue. He smirked as you lolled your tongue out. He placed his fingers on your tongue, letting you lick and suck them clean.

"You look so pretty like that, dove" He say as you finished pulling his fingers out popping out of your lips. He held your waist with his arms, moving you closer again. Leaning in to kiss you softly this time on your forehead. "How was that?"

"Better than what I imagined actually"

"C'mon it looks like we have friday plans too" Mitsuya said kissing your lips. Bringing you down the table. You smiled.

[shoutogepi]

Midnight Masquerade

Todoroki Shouto & Shinsou Hitoshi

word count : 8.6k

[  ✘ (nsfw 18+) ] 

themes : DUBCON, YANDERE. MFM threesome, vampire!todoroki, vampire!shinsou, spanking, praise kink??... double penetration, blood play (hello they’re vampires)

bio : You attend a masquerade ball in hopes of finding a bachelor on Halloween night… only to get much more than you originally bargained for. 

author’s note : This fic was inspired by one of my fav movies when I was younger! Van Helsing with Hugh Jackman (2004), in which Dracula hosts an exquisite masquerade ball, full of masked vampires.  

side note : Happy Halloween!! I didn’t have time to edit/beta this fic, so it may be a little choppy/rough.. but I’m about to leave for my Halloween party and I wanted to get this out on time so!! please try to enjoy, and I apologize if this is not up to my usual standards. <3

 ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅈ou received an invitation to a Halloween party… and that was about all the information you had to go off of. What awaited you at this gathering, you had absolutely no idea. The envelope had simply arrived on your doorstep at the beginning of the month, no messenger in sight.

This invitation, scrawled in perfect calligraphy and sealed with the kiss of a stamp upon wax, proved to be even more puzzling when you attempted to uncover its origin. And while you had asked around to anyone you could possibly think of— your friends, family, neighbors, hell, even your mailman— you found no one who could give you any answers. It seemed that you, for some reason, had been issued this invitation, when no one in your primary social network else had.

What was even more peculiar, was that a gown and a pair of heels had arrived two weeks later, in all senses more luxurious than you had ever seen, and tailored to your exact size and measurements. Just from lifting it out of the box, you could tell it was expensive. And as if that hadn’t been enough of a gift, a necklace and earrings that dazzled nearly enough to blind you arrived just a few days following the dress. Finally a last package arrived a few days before the party, containing an intricately-painted mask that tied the whole outfit together. Each of the gifts had a card laid across the top of the tissue-enfolded contents, signed off from your inviter and now confirmed “secret admirer, S.H.”

The enigma of it all perplexed you. You liked to tell yourself that a smart girl like you would never go to such an event, considering you had no clue who had sent you the invitation, let alone such extravagant gifts. You told yourself that you had no obligation to go, that it would be ill-advised to show up without any further information than the address, date, and time.

But someone had clearly gone to great lengths to impress you, and you couldn’t just ignore that. Curiosity burned bright inside you when raked your brain for potential inviters, and as you came to more and more dead ends, your intrigue grew with every second the event stayed on your mind.

You spent every day leading up to the party thinking about it, flipping back and forth as to if you were going to attend or not. Even on the night of, you spent a ridiculous amount of time switching between deciding on going or staying home, taking short bursts of either frantically getting yourself ready, or sitting down and scrutinizing the situation.

You ended up arriving at the address scrawled at the bottom of the mysterious invitation an hour late.

Although you had planned to just hail a cab thanks to your indecision, you were surprised to find a sleek, black Rolls Royce waiting for you at the entrance to your building. The driver, donned in a crisp black and white tux, sported an elegant mask across his face, and wordlessly opened the door for you, bowing and gesturing for you to enter. After a moment of hesitance, you decided it would probably be best to just get into the car— whoever had requested your presence had already gone to such lengths as to cloth and bejewel you— it only made sense for you to arrive in a vehicle that screamed as much wealth as did your outfit.

What you had not expected was to find the location of the event to be a rather estately manor at the border of the city. The driveway twisted through an ominous wood to reach the massive home, and rather nastily-spiked wrought-iron fences guarded the border of the property, looming metal casting eerie shadows against the overcast evening sky. You found yourself wondering briefly what exact purpose the metal lattice served— both sides adorned with rough silver spikes. Traditionally gates were meant to keep things from getting in… it was peculiar to you that they were double-sided.

It was certainly curious, but your eyes were quickly torn from the gates as the car ventured closer to the maleficent abode, your heartbeat beginning to pick up as you came nearer to the grand entrance. There was a gorgeous fountain laid between two sets of curved stone staircases, both leading up to the tall, mahogany doors at the dead center of the manor. The car came to a stop just before the fountain, and you spent the small moment your driver took crossing over to your side and opening your door in breathless anticipation.

The cool, dry October air felt heavenly against your exposed shoulders, the tops of your breasts just peeking out of the neck of the beautiful, sleek gown you’d been sent. The autumn chill did wonders to calm the thumping of your nervous heart, and as you climbed the stairs, your fingers trailing along the cold balustrade, you took a deep breath. When you chanced a look back toward the car, you found it had already disappeared, and a pang of uncertainty rang through you once more. Yes, this was definitely uncharastically brash of you— you still had no idea who could possibly be the one to invite you to such a prestigious soiree— and yet, you found your nerves crackling with excitement, barely able to contain your jittery disposition.

Two more men, also hidden beneath tuxedos and blank masks, bowed as they pulled the heavy wooden doors apart, revealing the bustling affair that lay inside. You were shocked to find so many bodies within just the first glance of the interior— it was a magnificent foyer that was ten times larger than the tiny apartment you had become so accustomed to, a sea of masked party-goers that ebbed and flowed with the live, string-quartet on the stage in the far corner of the room. Countless couples waltzed and spun across the middle of the room underneath humongous crystal chandeliers, all glittering and shining with the low lighting of a thousand candles, by far more fire hazards than you’d ever seen. It was quite a culture shock to you— you had never before been invited into the fruits of such luxury, this level of wealth as mysterious to you as the cryptic sender of your invitation, S.H.

And though this was your first time indulging in the pleasures of such extravagance, you looked like you belonged. You were sure that the outfit this mystery persona had given you to wear tonight was worth far more than the rent you constantly worried about making, and so you fit in quite seamlessly with the crowd of silk-enveloped, gem-encrusted faces, perhaps even going so far as to stand out. The soft silk of your pashmina tickled against your arms as it sat snug around your lower back, curled around your elbows and seams brushing against your hips. The thick necklace— more of a collar, really— sat heavy against your chest, each diamond shining brightly, leading to a large teardrop-shaped pendant of brilliant amethyst that hung perfectly in the middle of your chest. The ornate mask you’d been given concealed the top half of your face, bright ruby gems adorning along your eyes and matching your dress’ deep rouge to an impossibly perfect degree. Initially upon receiving such gifts you were suspicious of their authenticity, but standing now before such a display of affluence, you were certain they were real. The jewels and fine linens gave you a false sense of confidence, and after a moment of absorbing your astounding surroundings, you tentatively began to make your way into the party.

For a while you wandered around by your lonesome, but you didn’t really mind the solitude. It was a refreshing change of pace, and you admired each symbol of wealth you came across. The grand room was decorated with no expenses in mind— rich velvet curtains hung across the walls, tied back with gold corded tassels to allow the cold moon’s luminescence to shine down into the hall. Massive oil portraits lined the walls, each frame depicting a different person of undoubtable esteem, each in their own respect poised yet handsome as the last.

Your eyes wandered to the last two photos on the wall, both of them shockingly attractive in their own ways. One had wild, violet locks and a sultry smirk, the others’ hair split down the middle with tousled red and white, mouth set in an indifferent line. What stood out most to you was the emotion conveyed in both their eyes— it was cold and callous, sending shivers down your spine.

As you turned away from the portraits, you were met with a server, who offered you the silver platter he was carrying as he bowed. Tiny steak tartares, garnished with a red wine sauce and a sprig of herbs; the sight made your mouth water and you thanked him as you took one with the classy little fork he handed to you. Just as you turned your attention back to the portraits before you, you jumped at the discovery of a figure standing beside you.

He was tall, your head coming just above his shoulder, even in your four inch heels. He donned a crisp tuxedo of his own, but his bowtie was left undone, strips of fabric hanging loosely around his neck. Though there was a mask covering his face as well, you instantly recognized the purple flumes of hair, your surprise evident as you let out a small gasp. He didn’t seem to notice you, his eyes set on the frames above your line of sight, but he then began to speak, his deliciously deep voice taking you again by surprise. “Rather rare,” he spoke, quiet yet clear, eyes still scrutinizing the art before the pair of you.

“E-Excuse me?” you asked for clarity, wondering when exactly this man had appeared, and why you had not noticed such a captivating presence by your side.

At the sound of your voice, he turned his gaze to you, lazy violet eyes inspecting your figure without much attempt at concealing his blatant inspection. You bristled at his audacity, but soon found yourself relaxing as your own eyes wandered the length of his lithe, cut figure. It wasn’t your fault, you reasoned— you had just been admiring this man in his photo and now he appeared before you, looking even more delectable in person.

“The hors d'oeuvres,” he explained, eyes dropping to the forgotten disc of tender meat perched at the end of your fork. He let his gaze wander across your chest before he met your stare again, that same smirk coming to rest on his supple lips. “And such beauty as yours, of course. It’s unparalleled, Miss…?” he trailed off, angling his head to the side as he awaited your response.

You thanked him and told him your name, watching as his smirk only seemed to grow, something mischievous shimmering in those enticing amethyst orbs of his. He leaned forward and ducked into a slight bow, long fingers taking your free hand hostage as he brushed his lips against your knuckles.

“Shinsou will do, for now. Delighted to be acquainted,” he murmured as he pulled back, letting your hand drop and a brief silence fall on the pair of you.

Your eyes wandered to the portrait, then back to your new acquaintance. “That’s you, right?” You inquired, looking up at him through your mask. His bored eyes pierced yours as you met his gaze, and you felt heat accumulate in your cheeks. “What incredible artwork, I don’t think I’ve met anyone that’s posed for an oil painting— was it hard to sit still while it was being made?”

“Not at all,” he replied, taking a sip of the hammered-metal chalice in his large, gloved hand. “The fruits of life sweeten with patience, anyway.”

You wondered briefly if it was his first time posing for this kind of painting. Never had you met anyone who would want— or could afford, really— to commission such a painstakingly realistic portrait of themselves. How much it cost, you could not fathom, and did not care to discover. “So this is your party, then?” You continued after he made no further attempt at conversation.

He nodded, that smirk curling the corner of his mouth again. “You’re an observant little thing, aren’t you?” He remarked, sipping again from his cup. His words were rather rude, and you frowned before you shrugged them off, dismissing them in an instant. You weren’t really surprised by his smug comment, though your displeasure must have been visible because he immediately steered the conversation in another direction. “Are you enjoying yourself? May I get you a drink, my honored guest?”

It was a little off to you how his demeanor changed just like that, a flip of the switch, really— but you were thirsty, and you were curious to see what kind of expensive refreshments were available, so you found yourself nodding with a small smile of gratitude on your lips. He mirrored your smile before he mumbled something about returning soon, his figure swallowed up in the sea of masked faces.

Finding yourself alone once again, you went back to inspecting the portraits, happily humming to yourself as you enjoyed your hors d'oeuvre. You looked around the party, searching for that same waiter, wanting to grab a few more of those delicious bites while you had the chance.

It was then that you met a distinct set of eyes across the room, a white mask with delicate swirls decorating his handsome face. However much the mask concealed his face, there was no doubting that he was the other man from the portrait behind you— his hair was a stark giveaway— half of it scarlet and hanging loosely atop his brow, the other half a shocking shade of white, pushed back to give him a devilishly intimidating aura. Your throat tightened up as he began to make his way toward you, slowly but surely closing the distance between the two of you.

You couldn’t help but wonder if either of these men were the one who sent you your invitation— if one of them was to thank for showering you with such extravagance, for allowing you to dip your toes in the enticing pool of luxury. But you were not allowed to ponder the thought, for in no time at all the man in question stepped before you.

Without even a single thought, your body automatically shifted into a curtsey, and you blinked in surprise as he bowed his greeting in return. He didn’t give you a second to question it, lithe, gloved fingers taking hold of your hand and bringing it to his mouth. His lips were cold to the touch, and your hand trembled slightly as he let go.

“Todoroki Shouto,” he introduced himself, his smooth, deep voice resonating through your body. Something about him made you feel incredibly hot, yet you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. It was strange how much he seemed to affect you— almost supernatural. At your stunned silence, he smirked ever so slightly, shifting his head to look down at your shorter figure. “Your name, love? It would be rude of me to refer to you as the most alluring woman in the room the whole night, no?”

Flustered you were caught off guard, you quickly told him your name, adding on it was a pleasure to meet him.

“Y/N, hm? A beautiful name. It suits a woman as breathtaking as you.” He continued, and you could see how satisfied he was by your bashful reaction. “I can assure you, the pleasure is all mine.”

You smiled hesitantly at the man before you, unsure how to respond to his blatant flirting. With the momentary lull in your conversation, you looked over your shoulder to eye the painting once again. Todoroki watched your curious gaze like a hawk, unbeknownst to you. When you looked back to him, you smiled as you pointed your thumb over your shoulder. “Is that—”

“Would you like to dance?” He interrupted, folding your smaller hand in his and taking a step backwards into the dancefloor.

Panic coursed through you— you didn’t know how to dance, or at least, you didn’t think your ballroom skills would be nearly as good as his and everyone else’s here. Yet somehow when you opened your mouth to politely decline, instead came out, “I would be honored.”

With wide eyes you were guided into the center of the room, his other gloved hand coming to rest at the curve of your waist. Your hands found their own way into position, one on his shoulder, and the other wrapped tight around his as he began to steer you around the room. You were shocked to find yourself matching each of his steps, your feet moving in perfect harmony with his. But when you looked into his eyes, a trickle of horror ran down your spine.

He was looking directly at you, two-toned eyes boring into yours with unbridled desire, and some other emotion mixing in to create a frightful end result that could only be described as hunger. Yes, there was no mistaking it— that was hunger in his eyes— for what, you did not know, but somehow your body was aware that whatever it was, you were in for quite the night.

“The dress looks simply appetizing on you, love,” he whispered in your ear, chilling the blood in your veins just like that. “Were you surprised to find it fit like a glove? You look so angelic when you sleep… I hated to disturb you, but it was gratifying to know how much you enjoyed my touch...” His lips brushed against your dangling earrings, and a shiver ran through your body as he inhaled across the skin of your neck.

“Y-You—” you stuttered, eyes widening with realization. Had he— had he taken your measurements? He’d snuck into your bedroom? When? Why? You didn’t even know this man— why would he have taken such an interest in you, how did he know where you lived,  and why— why was your heart beating out of your chest at the thought of him seeing you in your sluttly little pyjamas? You knew there was something off about this, but never could you imagine this would be the turn of events tonight. You were terrified, and yet ashamedly, a small part of you was pleased to know a handsome and powerful man as himself had gone to such lengths to woo you. There was no denying it… even though your stomach was tied into knots and fear sat like a stone in your belly, a white-hot, irrefutable desire had sparked to life between your legs.

“Not just me...” he murmured, the tip of his nose dragging against your temple before he dipped you down towards the tiled floor right in tune with the crescendo of the music, your back bending in his grip. Now upside-down, your heart skipped a beat as you recognized Shinsou staring the pair of you down from across the room, that same smirk on his lips as he raised his chalice in contempt. “You’ve met Hitoshi, correct?”

You were only spared a moment to piece it all together, that tight feeling in your stomach only twisting further. S.H… it wasn’t the name of one suitor, but two— Shouto and Hitoshi. Two rich and powerful men that both tricked you into coming to their home, and you had fallen for it— practically serving yourself to them on a silver platter. You were no better than a damn steak tartare! You wanted to face-palm, to smack yourself for being so naive, but you found that your body was not your own; you couldn’t control yourself, couldn’t even speak, and all you could do was continue to dance with the horribly attractive man whose trap you had strolled right into.

Had they drugged you? Was it that accursed steak tartare? But then, wouldn’t you have passed out, or your limbs stopped working? How were you not missing a single step with Todoroki right now, spinning when he led you to spin, and willingly stepping into him when he pulled you back into his embrace.

“What… What are you going to do to me?” Your voice was shaking, even though your body moved more confidently than ever as the pair of you strode across the marble floor. “How is this happening?” You added, feeling quite small as the target of not one, but two predatory gazes.

Todoroki took his time to answer you, wordlessly twirling you in his arms as the music then came to a stop, a new melody beginning just as the previous one faded out. “Whatever we want, I suppose,” he answered, his gloved fingers traveling up your back to grasp your chin, forcing you to look into his chilling gaze. “But don’t worry, love… I don’t think you’re going to hate it all that much.”

— - — - — - — - — - — - — - —

It was only an hour later that you were being led to the other side of the mansion— away from the music and festivities, and away from the false sense of protection the crowd provided. Todoroki walked in front of you, and Shinsou’s hand rested casually on your hip as he walked beside you. Your palms were lined in a thin coating of sweat, your growing fear causing your pulse to skyrocket. You knew that you were about to understand why they had fooled you into coming here, and though you had pondered what terrible fate they had chosen for you for the past hour, your mind was completely blank. You could only watch as your feet moved one in front of the other, your body once again under their spell.

Whatever it was that they were doing, they somehow had complete control over you, and they had forced your body to dance with the both of them for the entire time you’d been there so far. It had created some fake relief as whatever it was they had planned was pushed off for the time being, but you couldn’t indulge such relief, and your nerves were more heightened than ever. You reached your breaking point when you entered a dimly-lit bedroom, and the door closed behind you, lock clicking into place.

“Please,” you pleaded, your body moving to stand in the middle of the room, right before the four-poster, canopy-laden bed. “Just tell me what’s happening, I can’t move a single muscle…”

Shinsou frowned, gloved hand coming up to discard his mask. Your breath caught in your throat— God, even if he was your captor, you couldn’t deny he was handsome. He slowly approached you, fingertips tracing along your jaw before removing your mask as well. He sucked in a small breath of air, violet eyes dark with a foreign sentiment. “Relax, baby… We’re just gonna make you feel good. We’ve wanted to make you feel good for so long now…” His eyes dropped to analyze your lips, entranced by their color and plushness.

“But… Why can’t I move?” you reiterated, and your eyes widened as Todoroki’s presence noticeably pressed up against your behind. The feeling of his body against yours sent your heart hammering, and you swallowed as you considered your options here— there was really only one means of escape and that had to start with you tricking them into freeing you from their spell. Licking your dry lips, you meekly added, “What if I… wanted to make you feel good, too?”

“Fucking Christ,” said Shinsou, who took a step backward, his palm coming to run across his face momentarily. He seemed on edge, anticipation distinctly painted across his rugged features.

Meanwhile Todoroki took his time to answer, considering your choice of words thoughtfully. “We have a lot planned for you… but we need to re-energize before we can do anything, love,” he replied simply, his voice low in your ear. He pulled off his gloves, cold fingers catching on your jaw as he turned your face to meet his. You whimpered as he leaned into you, and before you could make a single word, his lips claimed yours, cutting off any chance at a rebuttal.

You didn’t want to admit how good his mouth felt on yours, but you couldn’t ignore the butterflies that burst into your stomach as he kissed you— they were not the result of any foreign spell. Shinsou groaned as he watched Todoroki’s tongue slip into your mouth, actions getting more fervent as the dual-colored man’s fingers slipped around your head, cradling your face against his. His lips attacked yours, slotting against them and tongue wandering between the gaps. You gasped when something sharp pricked your bottom lip, automatically pulling back, your hand coming up to touch your lip.

Bright red stained your fingertip, and you looked between the evidence of your injury and the cause of the wound, eyes widening as you took in how dark Todoroki’s eyes had become, canines elongating into sharp fangs. Bewildered, you stayed frozen to the spot, unable to do anything yet again as his hand swiftly wrapped around your wrist, yanking your hand to his mouth and wrapping his lips around your finger. The feeling of his tongue swirling around the digit made heat flare in your core, even as terror began to pump through your veins. His other hand gripped your hip roughly, pulling your body flush unto his.

The desire to scream out in fear came quickly, but you found no sound came out of you when your mouth opened. Your head still turned to Todoroki, you didn’t anticipate Shinsou coming up in front of you, only noticing the other man when his tongue stroked across the tender skin on your neck. Your body stiffened as the wet muscle slid along your throat, your eyes wide and petrified.

“There you go, just relax...” Todoroki groaned, leaning in to suck on your broken lip, his tongue petting over the fresh wound gently. It stung, but at the same time it felt very intimate— something you had never done before that had that heat building in the pit of your stomach.

A set of fangs pricked your neck, Shinsou’s lips fluttering up toward your jaw. You loathed how soft they felt, a distinct contrast to the sharpened enamels that suddenly descended into your flesh. You cried out, unprepared for the searing pain that shot through your body. Your skin felt like it was throbbing, sizzling from the unwelcome heat and pain mixing together.

“Shhh, love,” Todoroki cooed, laying a gentle kiss on your open mouth. “It won’t hurt for long…” He continued to suckle on your lip, beautiful eyes staring deeply into yours as he cradled your face. The thin ring of iris around his blown pupils shone brightly in the low light of the flickering candles, brilliant aqua and stormy gray contrasting, mesmerizing you and momentarily taking you away from the pain of the fangs lodged in your throat.

Shinsou was moaning against your neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he took his fill from your bloodstream. His hands were gripping your waist tightly, fingers wandering up your back to curl your body closer to his embrace. You were so out of it, so lost in the taller man’s gaze, that you almost didn’t register the growing hardness pressing into your inner thigh. Shinsou was gently rutting against your leg, pressing his crotch onto you as he held your limp body with surprising care.

The sharp pain of his fangs in your neck had transformed into a dull throb, your body slowly numbing to his bite. It wasn’t long before Shinsou drew back, tongue roving over the flesh puncture marks that laid on your throat. His tongue hurt at first, but the second and third swipe of the strong, wet muscle felt increasingly good, and you hated how your thighs twitched together at the feeling. Apparently the two of them knew you would be experiencing this effect, for they both started to move you backwards, wandering closer to the bed.

You could hear Todoroki get onto the mattress before the pair of them maneuvered your body to join his, lifting you up and setting you down onto the plush comforter before him. His hands slid to your front, down your stomach and perched on your hips, pushing them back so your ass met his crotch. Your eyes went wide as you felt Todoroki’s erection poke into your ass, and Shinsou chuckled darkly as he, too, crawled onto the bed.

Although you opened your mouth to speak, no words came out, and the purple-haired vampire before you winked as the smirk on his lips only grew. There was still a trickle of your blood tainting the skin on his chin, and his fangs poked out as he grinned at you.

“You missed some,” Todoroki stated, voice a bit rougher than it had been downstairs. Your head turned to look at him, but you found his gaze was not focused on you— he was looking straight at Shinsou, eyes darkening and teeth elongating into points.

“Saved it for you, have a taste,” Shinsou replied nonchalantly, scooting closer to you. The space between the two men’s mouths closed and you gasped as you watched their lips collide, a moan tumbling out of the man supporting your back. That horrible heat burst between your legs, your mouth watering as you saw Todoroki’s tongue slips into Shinsou’s mouth, their fangs clicking as they brushed together.

Shinsou chuckled as he pulled back, Todoroki’s tongue wandering down to trace the line of your blood that streaked down his chin. Shinsou looked at you as he grinned, clearly happy that their kiss had such an effect on you. “You taste so good, baby,” he complimented, and you whimpered as heat burst in your cheeks.

It was shameful how much this was turning you on— a monster straight out of a fairytale was here in front of you, feeding off of you, able to end your life he re really wanted to in probably just one swift bite— and yet your pussy was drooling all over your panties for him, an uncomfortable dampness collecting between your thighs. You couldn’t stop your hips from wiggling, but as you moved back from Shinsou, you pressed up against Todoroki, who let out a throaty groan. The swell of your backside pushed against his hard cock just right, and you gasped as his hands suddenly jumped to the hem of your dress, pulling it to rest at the tops of your thighs. Your pussy twitched as the cool air rushed across your sticky panties, and you mewled as one hand drifted up to squeeze your breast, the other slapping gently over your panty-covered clit.

Shinsou’s hands glided down your waist, large palms running over your hips before he grabbed your thighs, yanking you to the edge of the mattress as he fell to his knees. Kneeling between your legs, he chucked again as he inspected the wet patch on darkening the front of your underwear. His thumb met your slit and he traced it up and down a few times, grin splitting his smirk as you unintentionally let out a moan.

It was then that Todoroki’s fangs sliced into the unmarked flesh on the other side of your neck. You cried out, the pain just as stringing and intense as Shinsou’s bite had delivered. But you weren’t left to focus on it long— Shinsou pulled your underwear to the side and dipped a thumb into your soaking folds, rubbing up the length of your slit once again. The direct contact made your toes curl, your slick folds parting with ease as the ample evidence of your arousal allowed his finger to glide through without catch. He hummed as he rubbed his thumb against your clit a few times, violet eyes flicking up to see your eyelashes fluttering across your cheeks, Todoroki’s lips latched to your throat as he took his fill from your sweet bloodstream.

Todoroki’s fingers curled into the top of your dress, and he pulled it down to reveal your tits to the cool air, your nipples instantly perking up and standing at attention. The red and white haired man moaned as he sucked on your throat, his forefinger and thumbs capturing each nipple and twisting the sensitive buds.

“Fuck!” you whined, immediately embarrassed that you hadn’t been able to hold the expletive in. But neither of the men seemed to share your sentiment, the pair of them moaning softly in response to your noise of pleasure as if encouraging you to let out even more.

Shinsou smiled as he pinched the sides of your panties, yanking the material down your thighs and off your ankles before separating your legs and inserting himself between them. He gave you no warning as his tongue suddenly licked a flat stripe up your slit, rolling around your clit perfectly at the end of his journey. Your legs tensed as they closed around his head, a hot puff of air escaping you as Todoroki finally pulled off of your neck with a broken gasp. His breathing was ragged as his tongue lashed over the fresh marks, the repeated action having the same, dizzying sensation that Shinsou had elicited. Then Shinsou’s tongue was wiggling across your clit, alternating between sucking on the sensitive pearl and lavishing it in vicious swipes of his strong, wet tongue.

Meanwhile Todoroki was ripping off his clothes, revealing his broad, sturdy chest in all its glory before he yanked at the zipper on your spine, sliding your dress over your shoulders and tossing it onto the floor. Your bra was next, leaving you in just your sparkly heels and your glimmering gems.

You could feel both pairs of eyes inspecting your naked body, Todorki’s hands returning to tweak at your nipples while Shinsou thrusted his tongue inside your quivering hole. He moaned as his tongue probed at your insides, sending vibrations through your core and causing your legs to tighten around his head. Pleasure was coursing through you, overwhelming the urge to scream and run that had been all you could focus on just minutes ago. But your pussy was dripping for the both of them, and Shinsou was savoring every drop as he animatedly lapped at you— never before had anyone so enthusiastically eaten your cunt like this, and his zeal only made you leak onto his mouth even more.

You had been so focused on the man in between your legs that you only recognized Todoroki had fully unclothed himself when he moved backward, easing your head back so you lay flat on the mattress. Your pussy twitched violently on Shinsou’s tongue when you caught sight of Todoroki’s cock standing long and thick, tall against his carved abdomen, his expression dark as he shuffled forward.

“Open your mouth, baby,” he instructed and you obeyed immediately, as if you couldn’t follow his instruction any faster. Your eagerness made him smirk, and you made sure to keep eye contact as he rubbed the tip of his heavy cock against your sealed lips. But suddenly Shinsou started to attack your clit with new fervor, tongue flicking across the bundle of nerves repeatedly.

You couldn’t stop the moan that flew out of you, and as soon as your mouth was open, Todoroki pushed forward, shoving his cock deep into your mouth. You choked at the sudden intrusion, but he only grabbed your throat with one hand and thrust into your mouth even rougher than before. He didn’t seem to care much about your comfort, your heartbeat skyrocketing as the need for oxygen started burning in your lungs.

Todoroki pulled his cock out just in time for you to gasp in a few breaths before he rammed his cock back inside, powerful thighs pinning your head to the mattress as he leaned forward with hands on either side of your waist and head hung while he uttered a quiet moan. “That’s right, love. Go ahead and suck my cock… I want to hear you choke on me, naughty little thing.”

A wanton moan slipped out of you, his cock filling your throat to the max, and his rough, determined thrusts causing your pussy to flood even more. Shinsou was still licking at your cunt purposefully, tongue sliding around your folds and over your clit as he sucked and flicked it to your liking. You started to become more vocal as pressure began to build in your stomach, your hips writhing wildly underneath his pinning grip as Todoroki used your mouth to his liking. Your eyes rolled back as you felt your high approaching, unaware of Shinsou slowly but steadily undressing himself while he suckled at your puffy folds.

Todoroki’s thrusts became slower but deeper suddenly, and you swirled your tongue around his swollen tip when his hips receded. You were caught off guard when Shinsou’s lips left your cunt and instead his teeth sunk into the soft skin on your thigh, taking another sampling from your veins. This time, the initial pain was much duller, and it quickly faded into something concerningly pleasurable. There must have been some higher-level effect at play here— there was no way that such gleaming fangs stabbing into you and feeding from you should feel that good. Yet it undoubtedly made your toes curl, bliss spreading through your body like wildfire through dry grass. It only increased when a long finger slipped inside of you, a second entering with ease as they began rubbing inside of you gently. You could feel Shinsou moan into your pillowy thigh, the noise only making your cunt itch for his attention again.

You let out a desolate whine when both of the men suddenly pulled away from you, your pussy hotter and wetter than ever, and your cheeks dribbling with your saliva as a result of Todoroki’s face-fucking. It was then that you realized Shinsou was naked, too, your mouth watering at his visage; his cock stood thicker and shorter than Todoroki’s, but both of them were punching well above average, muc to your delight.

Todoroki slipped off the mattress and Shinsou walked around the edge of the bed, the pair switching and settling in reverse positions. Shinsou stroked your cheek sweetly, capturing your attention as he smiled down at you. You craned your neck to press a kiss to the leaking tip of him, your tongue poking out to swipe the salty bead of pre-cum that lay there. Your eyes went wide when you felt the telltale smoothness of Todoroki’s cock splitting your slick-drenched folds, his hands settling on your hips before he grabbed them, rutting his own forward and causing his cock to push halfway into your tight hole. The stretch made the both of you gasp, your wet, little hole hugging his large cock snug as he began to move his hips.

Shinsou had enjoyed the intimate moment but found himself getting impatient, slapping his thick, oozing cockhead over your lips to grab your attention once again. You looked up at him with wide, starry eyes, your mouth opening for him to glide his cock into your mouth. “Good girl,” he murmured, eyes fixating on the way your lips wrapped around his girth, the way his thick veins looked rolling against your tongue. Your cheeks hollowed in attempt to satiate him, but you instantly cried out when Todoroki’s hips slapped flush against yours, shoving his cock inside of your cunt entirely.

The impossible fullness that bloomed in your stomach was delectable, and Todoroki began to thrust into your slippery cunt at a reliable, hard pace. He let out a guttural groan as he watched his cock disappear into your slick folds, the heat of your pussy overwhelming him. He lifted both your legs over his shoulders, making sure to grab one of your ankles and pulling it upright so your leg was fully extended. Then, his fangs broke the smooth skin on your calf and you whimpered at the feeling. It felt so good to have him suck on your skin— to feel your blood flowing out of your body and into his eager mouth. It was sick, but you couldn’t think about it at the moment— couldn’t find any fault with the two monsters that were taking you to cloud nine.

“Fuck, just like that,” Shinsou mumbled, eyes flicking up to watch a rivulet of your blood strike down your outstretched leg. When he looked back down towards you, your eyes were closed and your brow scrunched, an indication of the pleasure that was ebbing through your body thanks to the cadenced swing of Todoroki’s hips. “You’re such a good fucking girl,” Shinsou praised as he threw back his head, his fingers carding through your hair and tugging gently at your roots.

Just as the three of you seemed to find a rhythm, Todoroki pulled out abruptly, making your mouth part in a whine, Shinsou’s thick member springing out of your wet cavern and into the cool, still air. The purple-haired man hissed in annoyance, gritting his teeth as he looked to the other man to scold him, but quickly his irritation melted as he watched Todoroki flip you so your stomach lay flat on the sheets. Then, he hiked your ass into the air, your body moving along with him with such cooperation that the pair of them shared a look, haughty smirks stretching on both their lips. It was their secret that they had stopped using their mind control on you, and it seemed you were the only one that continued, blissfully unaware. Perhaps you didn’t even realize… perhaps you didn’t care.

It didn’t matter, really— Todoroki lined himself up with your dripping cunt, taking no pause this time as his cock speared inside you once again. You moaned as you reeled forward, your fingers gripping into the duvet harshly as your body tightened up from the delicious intrusion. His long, thick cock felt like magic inside of you, each thrust brushing a soft spot nestled deep inside of you and stimulating you further.

Shinsou jerked himself off lazily as he watched your facial expressions, trapping his bottom lip between his sharp teeth as he registered the erotic ecstasy painted across your beautiful features. After a minute of allowing you to focus his accomplice’s hard cock, he pressed the tip of his own to your lips. You immediately opened your mouth, taking the flushed member between your lips with restless reception, tongue rolling around the swollen head. Shinsou sighed, half-lidded lavender irises watching you begin to eagerly bob up and down his length. He thumbed over a drop of blood that had rolled down your throat, catching Todoroki’s eye and offering his finger to the other man, who happily took the digit into his mouth and sucked, tongue soaking up your life essence as his hand wrapped around Shinsou’s wrist to steady himself. They both chuckled as you moaned loudly, Todoroki’s free hand clapping across your ass cheek and causing your cunt to clench down on his cock.

“You like that?” he teased, grabbing your flesh and shaking it, watching your ass jiggle before striking you again, a few smacks in succession. You could only gag and moan in reply, Shinsou’s cock thrusting into the back of your throat. The purple-eyed vampire gripped your chin with his calloused, cold hand, keeping your head in place as he began to fuck your face. Suddenly Todoroki spat onto your behind, his saliva wetting your puckered hole before he shoved his thumb inside of your ass, the unexpected stretch sending fresh bliss through your body as his cock dragged against it through your walls. Tears were beading on your lashes, the combination of the lack of oxygen, the attack of your g-spot from Todoroki’s cock, and the sharp pain of his hand across your ass all sending you hurtling towards your high.

With a shriek you came on his cock, your cunt wringing snug around the heavy member that just kept pistoning into you, angling your hips so the head pounding into that sensitive, spongy spot again and again. Todoroki groaned, taking his finger out and both his hands now squeezing at your hips as he continued to fuck you, offering a few more slaps to your ass as you trembled in ecstasy. While your head was still filled with the euphoric fog of your climax, Shinsou pulled out of your mouth, nodding to Todoroki, who wordlessly understood. The mismatched vampire hooked his arms around your knees, heaving you up against his chest and spreading your legs far apart enough for Shinsou to slide between them.

You were still catching your breath as Shinsou reached for Todoroki’s cock, slotting his thighs between the other man’s and positioning his length so that his slick-covered head rested right at your asshole. You gasped, your arm bending to dig your nails into Todoroki’s shoulder as you looked behind at him, catching his lustful gaze down at you. Shinsou then began to sloppily kiss your throat, his cock rubbing against your glazed, ravaged opening as his hands ran across the curve of your ass, landing on Todoroki’s waist behind your hips. The both of them entered you at the same time, your vision dotting with white spots as the stretch from both sides took your breath away. They both managed to slip inside, fully seating you onto their laps as you trembled, your stiff nipples brushing against Shinsou’s toned chest.

Todoroki nibbled at your ear as he began to pump his cock inside of you, filling your ass with each thrust and stimulating you as he rubbed himself against Shinsou’s cock through your walls. “So tight, love…,” he murmured in your ear, the prick of his sharp fangs on your cartilage sending shivers down your spine. His tongue wandered out and he traced the tip of it against the column of your throat, brushing over the leaking puncture wounds that laid there. “So sweet… can’t help myself,” his words turned into a savage moan as he sunk his fangs into your skin, the pain washing away abruptly as Shinsou, too, started to push his hips into yours.

Shinsou groaned, one hand coming to caress your chin as he claimed your lips with his own. His tongue entered your mouth and wrestled with yours as his tempo began to pick up, his cock stretching your cunt wide and sending waves of pleasure through your core. When he pulled back, you were both panting, your breasts heaving with the rapid rise and fall of your chest. It was then that Todoroki pulled away from your neck, gasping in a breath of air as his fangs glistened scarlet. Shinsou took one look at him and crushed his mouth to his, your holes clenching around their lengths as you watched your blood be exchanged between their ravenous tongues. The pair of them were moaning, and so were you— unable to keep the noises of pure pleasure inside as you watched them make out.

Your blood was dripping down Todoroki’s chin, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching over and grabbing his jaw, ripping his lips away from Shinsou’s and instead placing your mouth on his. He growled in approval against your lips, his tongue battling yours as he sought to dominate you, the distinct flavor of iron filling your mouth as you tasted your own blood. Shinsou took the opportunity to sink his cuspids into the other side of your throat again, and your jaw fell in response, Todoroki’s tongue seizing control of yours immediately as he grasped the upper hand. Both of them were full-on fucking you now, your holes warm and wet, quivering around their thick cocks as the brought you closer and closer to your high yet again.

Only the sound of your heavy breathing and the slapping of your skins filled the air in the room, the music of the party drowned and far away as the three of you were otherwise occupied. Before you knew it, you were clenching on them again, your body seizing as your orgasm ripped through you, all the air in your lungs vacuumed out of you and your toes curling into the air. Your fingers fisted Shinsou’s wild violet locks, your nails digging into Todoroki’s jaw as you tumbled through the throes of your climax, euphoria rushing through your bloodstream and straight into Shinsou’s awaiting mouth.

The sweet taste of your oxytocin, your drug-like ecstasy, sent him straight into his own orgasm, his hips pushing flush against yours as he roared and his cock spurted thick white ribbons deep into your womb, his seed pouring into you and filling you to the brim. His chiseled body trembled as he emptied himself inside of you, his fingers bruising your skin while he gasped and moaned. Your holes clenched as you milked his cock, and suddenly Todoroki, too, groaned loudly behind you. His hands squeezed your flesh as his cock spurted hot cum inside of you, his abdomen flush against your ass as he crushed your body to his front.

The three of you sat there on the bed, your bodies covered in sweat and remnants of your blood, breathless and still as you came back down to earth. Shinsou’s lips trailed along your neck, Todoroki’s fingertips sliding across your skin with gentle care as they pulled out of you. Their seed dribbled down your thighs as they maneuvered your boneless body back onto the pillows, your eyes fluttering closed from the pure exhaustion and the lack of blood in your veins. Each of them laid back on either side of you, their cold hands wandering over your skin and causing goosebumps to rise, their eyes roaming your body in pure adoration.

“You did so well, baby,” Shinsou murmured into your hair, pressing his face close to yours as he sighed and inhaled the sweet scent lingering from the blood on your skin.

“So well-behaved for us,” Todoroki added, wrapping an arm around your middle as he, too, nestled closer to your limp body. “Go to sleep, love… you deserve some rest.”

You hummed at their praise, tired butterflies flapping their wings in the pit of your stomach. Your head was fuzzier than ever, bliss weighing heavy in your bones as your breathing steadied. Filled with post-orgasmic content, the idea of fleeing that seemed so wonderful just an hour ago now sounded distasteful, your body comfortable lying on the silken sheets, pressed between your two lovers. As you faded into a blissful sleep, you could hear the pair talking lowly, making plans to keep you here with them in hushed voices.

 ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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so sorry if that was rushed at the end!! hope you enjoyed, and Happy Halloween!! be safe out there <3

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[chatonne-rousse]

Great Minds (and Kind Hearts) Think Alike

Written as a gift for my sweet friend @sketchy-panda to celebrate a bunch of happy things in her life, as well as just because she's awesome. Inspired by this adorable piece of her art.

During a rooftop discussion about superhero merch while relaxing after patrol, Ladybug and Chat Noir each decide to share their favorite items with their partner. What results is an impromptu gift exchange that just might open the door to a whole lot more.

Read it on Ao3 here.

"My parents put us on the Christmas tree last year, Kitty! I had to see myself in the living room every day."

He bumps her shoulder with his. "And me, apparently."

"Yes, but your ornament was cute!" She flails her arms comically and he tries not to focus too much on the fact that she called his likeness cute. "Mine didn't even look like me."

"Would you have liked it better if it had?"

"That's not what I..." Ladybug scowls, but there's no real heat in her expression or her voice. "It was just weird."

"No, the baby onesie that I saw on an actual baby that said 'Meow, My Lady' was weird," Chat mutters. "I didn't even know any civilians had ever heard me say that."

Ladybug's surprised laughter rings out across the rooftop they're perched on tonight, loud enough to be heard from any nearby open window until she muffles the sound with her hand over her mouth. "And whose fault is that, you tomcat?" she asks through her remaining giggles.

He tries to pout, but her laughter is contagious and his smile breaks through. He chooses to ignore the jab at his vain attempts at flirting. Wooing is difficult business.

"The baby was cute, though. I had to take a picture with him."

"You had to?"

He shrugs. "That's a very small request, Bugaboo. I've encountered way worse. A few pictures? I don't mind."

She stares at him for a long moment, something unreadable in her gaze, before looking back over the horizon. "Have you ever bought any Chat Noir merch? You strike me as the kind of guy to have a bookshelf full of action figures."

He is the kind of guy to have a bookshelf full of action figures, and he definitely does, but he thinks of the drawer in his closet that's full of red and black, reminders of his beloved partner. There are far fewer items in black and green.

"I...have a few things. The action figures of us are really cool, actually. Didn't you always want to be immortalized in plastic as a kid?"

"Can't say I did, Minou." She bumps his shoulder this time. "I'll bet you had your supersuit all planned in your head already, didn't you?"

Not quite, but only because he never imagined himself as a cat-themed superhero. He has no intention of ever divulging the fact that his first real transformation sequence was anything but random. That secret is between him and Plagg, and he's not telling. Plagg probably will, but that's a problem for future Adrien.

She laughs again. "I'll take your silence as a 'yes'."

"I'll have you know, My Lady, that I have a carefully curated display of collectibles that are very valuable. And no, this—" he gestures from his cat ears to his steel toes, "was all spontaneous. Can't help it if I've got cat class and I've got cat style."

Ladybug shoots him a deadpan look that dissolves into giggles once more when he wiggles his eyebrows.

Success. He loves to hear his partner laugh, loves to make to his partner laugh. These are moments he wouldn't trade for the world.

"Well," she finally says after her laugher subsides, "the Chat Noir doll I saw in the market did not have cat style, so I made my own."

"Really?" His voice is soft with wonder.

"Yep! And a Ladybug doll, too." She casts him a sidelong grin. "They're a duo, you know. I couldn't have Chat without his Lady, could I?"

He wills himself not to cry. It takes three blinks and one shaky breath before he can respond. "You made them? Yourself?"

"Sure. It's not hard. All it takes is felt and thread and buttons for eyes. They're simple, but—" she shrugs, "I think they're pretty cute."

"Wow," he breathes. "You really are amazing, Bugaboo. They sound incredible."

His Lady seems to amaze him anew with each revelation she allows. He could count on one hand the things he knows about her, really knows, and those facts are tucked away and treasured. She's a whiz at video games. She babysits. She has a loving family. She listens to Jagged Stone. She loves animals.

"Thank you, Minou," she says softly, as the barest hint of a blush spreads to her cheeks beneath her mask.

His heart beats a little faster. His tongue feels heavier. He falls just a tiny bit more in love with her.

Ladybug fills the silence again. "Better than mass-produced action figures, for sure. More cuddle-able!"

That startles a laugh from him. "Is that a word?"

"It is now." She shrugs, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I'm telling you, Bug, those action figures are cool. I can't believe you don't have a set."

"Guess I need to go shopping."

"Yup," he responds with a decisive nod.

When they make eye contact, it sets off another giggle fit, Ladybug's shoulders shaking with mirth and Chat having to wipe the tears from his eyes. It's not even that funny, but it doesn't have to be.

Paris is quiet tonight, and his heart is light as he relaxes against the rooftop and laughs with his best friend.

*****

Four days later, when they meet up for patrol again, Chat Noir is surprised when his partner joins him carrying a gift-wrapped box. Especially since he himself is hiding a gift bag behind his back.

He sweeps into a bow as she approaches, straightening with an exaggerated wink. "Something for me-ow?"

Her expression morphs into one of longsuffering annoyance. "Well, it was, but I'm reconsidering."

"You wouldn't!" He gasps, one hand clutching his chest over his heart.

Her lips twitch into the beginning of a smile and soon the stillness of the nighttime rooftop is broken by their shared laughter again.

"For you, Chaton," she finally says with a grin, holding out the box.

He produces the gift bag from behind his back and presents it to her, the tissue paper fluttering in the night air. Her eyes widen with delight, and his heart sings.

The handoff is a quiet affair, a hushed silence of surprise settling over the moment as they sit cross-legged, facing each other.

Even the box is beautiful, he notes, wrapped in shiny black paper and adorned by a giant bow of vivid green with black paw prints. He knows, of course, what's in the bag she's holding in her hands. Could this box contain...? He doesn't dare to dream.

He looks up and nods at the bag. "Go ahead, Bug."

The tissue paper rustles as she removes it, trapping it under her foot to keep it from drifting away on the breeze. She takes one look inside, sees the label on the top of the box within, and bursts into laughter. "You didn't!"

Chat grins. "I did."

She pulls out the box to take a closer look. There are several options when it comes to Ladybug and Chat Noir collectible figurines, but this one is his particular favorite. They're sold separately, but he's always been partial to the 1st Anniversary Special Partners Edition, boxed together as a pair and made to wield his baton in his left hand and her yo-yo in her right, leaving them free to hold hands in the middle. Which the figurines' hands are molded to do, and how they're currently posed in the box. They can also stand alone, but there's just something special about the fact that joined hands are an option.

"Okay, Kitty, you were right. They really are cool." She points at the Ladybug figure. "This looks so much better than that Christmas ornament!" Squinting at the box to examine his figurine, she suddenly snorts a laugh. "Your hair looks like a bunch of bananas!"

"Hey!" He pouts, but he knows she's right. When he bought his own set last year, Plagg had made the same observation and laughed so hard he nearly choked on his cheese. He then proceeded to call him Bananoir for days, until Adrien threatened him with a month of Velveeta. The ribbing didn't really bother him that much - honestly, he had to concede the resemblance - because it was an action figure...of himself. No matter how many were produced, that fact would never not be incredible, and no amount of banana hair or cat god snark could diminish his excitement.

"Oh, Chaton, I'm just teasing. I love them." She beams at him, cradling the box with both hands. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, LB. I just...I thought it would be fun."

"Great minds think alike, it seems. Your turn!"

He glances down at the box in his lap and back at his partner. Her smile is bright, but her eyes betray a nervous anticipation.

"Bug, you know I'm going to love whatever this is, right?"

"I hope so. I made them myself."

His heart in his throat, he carefully slips the ribbon from the box and slices the paper with his claws. He can barely breathe as he lifts the lid.

His hunch (his dream) is confirmed when he finally sees the contents of the box. Nestled in a bed of tissue paper, side by side, are two handmade plush dolls, opposite in configuration to the action figures but with their soft little hands touching in the center just the same. Tears spring to his eyes unbidden, and he wipes them away quickly, partially out of embarrassment but mostly because he wants to see every detail with clarity.

The seams are pristine, the limbs symmetrical; the dolls are simple, but crafted with a skilled, sure hand. He picks up the Ladybug doll first, lifting it reverently from the box. Red felt with carefully-painted black spots form the doll's body, and her little black button eyes gaze up at him from a matching spotted mask. A sweet smile is the only other adornment on her face, but the doll is perfect without anything else. This is his beloved partner, created by his beloved partner herself. That alone is perfection to him.

He returns the Ladybug doll to the box and shifts his attention to his own likeness, resolutely ignoring the lump in his throat.

Equal in craftsmanship, the felt Chat Noir in his hands smiles the same sweet smile and looks at him with shiny button eyes from a black domino mask. Perched on his blond felt hair are two black cat ears, and a real bell is sewn at his neck. He gives the doll a gentle shake and the golden bell rings with a jaunty jingle. It's adorable.

Chat Noir is helpless to the grin that lights his face, looking up from the doll to his partner just in time to see that same joy reflected back in her own dawning smile. Warmth suffuses his chest, elation and love and an overwhelming gratefulness bursting firework-bright and making his breath catch.

He has never received such a heartfelt gift in his life. This eclipses the fine blue cashmere scarf his father gave him on his fourteenth birthday, folded in his closet and placed where he can see it every day. It's a treasure to him, and it always will be. But this, handmade just for him with obvious care by the person he loves most in the world? Nothing could come close.

"I don't know what to say, LB," he begins once he can finally speak, "They're...they're amazing. Adorable. Perfect." He takes a deep breath. "I'm fumbling this, but...thank you isn't enough."

Ladybug reaches out to place her hand on his knee. Even through two supersuits, the contact sends a shiver up his spine. Her expression is one of warm relief, clearly pleased with his reaction. "Thank you is more than enough, Kitty. It was nothing."

"Nothing?" he splutters. "These are far from nothing!"

"Oh, Minou," she laughs. "I meant that it was my pleasure. It wasn't difficult, but even if it was, you're worth it."

Do. Not. Cry. He thinks. He's been fighting tears since she handed him the box. Once he gets home, he's absolutely going to give in and sob while clutching them to his chest. He's man enough to admit that...to himself.

He takes several deep breaths and swallows against the lump in his throat as he arranges the dolls back in their tissue paper nest, making sure their hands are touching before replacing the lid on the box.

"Thank you, Ladybug," he says softly. "I love them. Us."

She pats the box still held on her lap. "And I love this version of us, too. Thank you for making sure I have the coolest action figures in Paris." After placing the box and the tissue paper back inside the gift bag, Ladybug stands and offers her hand to Chat to help him up. "Now, let's go stow these treasures and patrol. Last one to Sacre-Cœur has to buy the other an ice cream cone."

Still clutching the gift box under one arm, he watches her throw out her yo-yo to snag a distant chimney before she zips off with a giggle. He grins, shakes his head, and reaches behind him for his baton.

"That's my bug," he murmurs to himself, before setting off for home to secure the gift safely.

In a few minutes he'll rejoin his partner in a merry chase across the rooftops. He hopes the night remains quiet.

Chat Noir can't wait to buy ice cream for his Lady.