#short haircuts for thin hair and long face

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Hi can I request a smutty 3/e/32 cause of the heatwave reader shaves Jax Tellers hair. She wears a tiny dress with nothing under it cause it's too hot. and while Jax is sitting there and she's standing in front of him doing her thing he's going insane cause of that dress and starts stroking her thighs n more which leads to sex in the bathroom 🥵🥰

Heatwave.

3. "Will you let me cut your hair?" + 32. "Can I touch you?" + e. Heatwave

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here. my first ever Jax fic - god this man is so gorgeous !! anon, i hope you don't mind that i chose to cut his hair rather than shave it - because the idea of shaving his blonde locks breaks my heart honestly :( thank you for this request!! x

my other jax fic.

Pairing - Jax Teller x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! cursing

Word Count - 890

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

You can't watch him struggle any longer.

Jax is in your driveway, working on his bike in the blazing sun. He's shirtless, golden skin on display, sweat dripping down his back. He looks like he should be on the front cover of a magazine.

You can see him becoming irritated. His hair keeps falling into his face, getting into his eyes. He repeatedly pushes it behind his ears, to no avail. It just falls again. You're worried he's going to pull it out in a fit of rage, honestly.

"Jax?" you call, rising from the porch to make your way towards him.

He turns when he hears you call his name, beaming smile on his face. The smile falters slightly when he takes in the sight of you. You're wearing a short, colourful sundress, material swishing around your mid thighs. It hugs your body in all the right places, thin straps revealing your lack of bra. He takes a deep breath upon your approach, begging his mind to stop racing with the filthy thoughts.

"Hi, darlin'," he drawls, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. You're wearing your cherry lip balm, and it takes everything in him not to bend you over the bike right there.

"Will you let me cut your hair?" you ask sweetly, throwing your arms around his neck.

"You want to? Thought you liked it long."

"I do, but it's getting in your way. Just let me take a little length off? It'll stop it from falling in your eyes."

He smiles at the realisation that you've been watching him struggle and could no longer bear it. An angel, sent just for him.

"Okay, baby. Let's do it," he says, kissing you again. Abandoning his bike, he picks you up around the middle and practically carries you inside.

You pull a chair into the bathroom and gesture for Jax to sit while you rummage in the drawer for the hairdressing scissors. When you find them, you move to stand between his legs, big blue eyes watching your every step.

Jax places his hands on your hips while you run your fingers through his hair, combing it gently. You're deciding how much to take off, surveying carefully. You know he won't mind either way, but you still want to make it look good.

You start snipping away, ignoring the beads of sweat that are dripping down your back. It's the hottest day of the year so far, and your air conditioning can only do so much. You wish you could walk around with your shirt off like Jax. He probably wouldn't mind, actually.

His hands migrate from your hips to your thighs, stroking up and down gently. He's making it hard to concentrate, so you double down on your focus, determined to finish the job. Neither of you say anything about the way your breathing has quickened, or the way his is now deep and laboured. His fingers brush higher, and you put the scissors down on the counter.

"What are you doing?" you question teasingly, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"Just sitting for my haircut, ma'am," he answers cheekily.

"Do you try and put your hand up all of your hair stylists dresses, Jackson?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," he winks.

His eyes darken slightly as they rake over your body, up and down. He wraps a strong arm around your back, pulling you into him further. The other hand is still tracing patterns on your inner thigh. He dares to move it higher, and lets out a guttural groan at what he finds.

"Fuck, honey. Are you wearing panties?"

"Nope," you reply, popping the 'P'. "Too hot."

He rests his head on your stomach and trails his fingers along the crease of your thigh.

"Can I touch you?"

"You are touching me, Jax."

"No, baby. Can I touch you here? Please?"

To emphasise his question, he brushes his fingers over your clit lightly. You jolt at the sudden contact, throwing your head back.

"Yes, Jax. Please."

You're suddenly grateful for the grip you have on his shoulders. Your knees are buckling already, balance unsteady. God, this man knows how to play you like a violin.

"No more teasing," you pant. "Need you."

How can he say no to that?

He's fumbling to unbutton his jeans, pushing them down his thighs. He pulls you forward so you're straddling him, and lines himself up. In one swift stroke, you roll your hips downwards and he slides home, both of you groaning.

"Fuck, darlin'."

"Shit, Jax. Please."

You use his thighs and his shoulders as leverage, moving yourself up and down. He thrusts upwards, meeting your strokes, sending pleasure prickling down your spine.

"This fuckin' dress," he groans. You giggle, and the vibrations drive him wild.

He can tell you're close when your hips start to stutter, rhythm faltering. He doubles down, thrusting up with more force. Jax bites down on your shoulder, and it sends you over the edge, white hot and blinding.

Your climax triggers his, hips not stopping until you're both spent and boneless. Your foreheads are pressed together, panting.

"I'm gonna buy you a hundred of these dresses," he chuckles.

"Fine by me," you reply, kissing him deeply.

"Good."

"Might need one with sleeves, though. Something's gotta cover this bite mark."

[deanswhiskey]

𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 - 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

summary; sam asks you to cut his hair

wc; 1,193

warnings; just kissing, this is beta so apologize for spelling mistakes

authors note; hiiii ☺️ i’ve been in such a writers block but i think it’s over (don’t hold me to that) so im gonna try to write more. this fic is heavily inspired by that one scene in friends where kathy cuts chandlers hair if you couldn’t tell

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

“can you cut my hair?”

the words slipped out of sam’s mouth. he only half meant it. he couldn’t ask you to do that for him; not when he could go to a barber for a few bucks.

sam loved him long hair, he did, but there were times that it got so frustrating. the brushing, the knots, the maintenance, and not to mention sam winchester had to worst bed head. although, you thought it was adorable.

you and sam were nothing more than best friends. you have been for a while. sure there was longing glances, accidental brushing of hands, the rare occasions where there wasn’t enough rooms in the motel so you’d have to share a bed. but you were just friends. that’s all it will and ever be.

dean hated it, too much tension for him. it made him angry. he just wished you two would grow a pair and do something about it.

the question had slightly taken you aback. you hadn’t really ever cut hair before. sure you had cut your dolls hair, a couple botched hair cuts in your awkward phases, but nothing in a professional sort of way.

“of course, sam.”

a small smile appeared on sams face, “cool.”

you’ve never really paid attention to the length that hard until right now. “it does look like it’s getting a little long, doesn’t it.”

sam chuckled to himself, “yeah, getting hard to manage. i don’t know how you girls do this everyday.”

you giggled at his words, “don’t get me started.”

it was evening now and you began setting up for sam’s haircut. you smiled to yourself getting the bathroom ready for him. a chair from the small table in the motel room was brought in along with a sharp pair of scissors and the top sheet from your motel bed.

yours and the brothers room was conjoined so thankfully you didn’t have to walk outside to get to their room. the door has been propped open and you walked over to get sam.

sam looked up at you from his computer with big doe eyes, the big doe eyes you love. he smiled, closing his computer, and getting up from the table and following you to your side of the joined rooms.

a chuckle escaped his lips as he walked into your bathroom, admiring the little set up you had going on. “wow, you’re really going all out, aren’t ya?”

“well, i wanted to give you a decent experience for what i can and what i have.” you gestured to the chair, “now, if you’d like to take a seat sir, then we can get started.” a posh accent came out with that sentence.

sam matched your accent, “don’t mind if i do.”

you grabbed the thin sheer from the floor and draped it around sam, the same way a barber would, securing it with a hair tie from wrist.

“how short do you want it?” you asked while brushing his hair out.

you started to run your fingers through his hair and getting a feel for all of it. all of sams thoughts had slipped out of his head. he was distracted, and rightfully so. sam practically has to bite back a moan it felt so good.

“i- um, i was thinking, mm-maybe like how it was a few years ago?” he stuttered out.

“mm, okay.” you removed you finger from his hair and grabbed the scissors. “hold tight,” you jokingly said.

sam just closed his eyes, trying to relax his mind from his thoughts. his shoulder slumped and his jaw unclenched as you carefully snipped away a little length from his hair.

the small clumps of hair fell down and tickled sams neck as they fell down. the sound of the scissors and the small sound of you humming filled the air of the dingy motel bathroom.

minutes passed silently before you spoke up, “okay, i think i’m almost done.”

you swiveled around to stand in front of him, cutting the hairs that framed his face. your were dangerously close to him, sam’s eyes adverted looking at anything else in this bathroom.

“and, done.” you dragged out with the finished touches.

the scissors now sat on the counter as you moved to stand behind him again. your eyes looked at him through the mirror, you were proud at your work. a smile crept onto your face.

“wow, it looks amazing,” sam boasted.

“thank you,” you gleamed, moving to stan’s in front of him.

you bent down in front of him, slightly leaning against the counter behind you.

“w-what are you doing?” sam questioned, adverting his gaze once more while you tugged gently at the hair on the side of his head. his voice barely above a whisper.

“i’m just seeing if it’s even up close.” you said in the same tone, just above a whisper.

“oh.” the only response sam could mutter out.

your eyes dart between to strands you’re holding on either side of his head. you slowly stopped looking at his hair and settled into his eyes.

the room became thick and your breathing became heavy. sams eyes flickered to your lips for a brief moment.

“it, uh-” you were cut off my sam smashing his lips against yours. it was something you didn’t except yet you’ve dreamed of this moment before.

your lips mold together so perfectly. sam tasted of mint, from the gum he was chewing earlier. the knot from the sheet around his neck comes undone by your doing as you both stand up.

sam gently pushed you up against the counter, you were practically sitting on it.

you had gotten lost in the feel of sam. his hands roaming every inch he could get to while your hands would switch between moving up and down his torso and tangled in his hair.

the two of you were so lost you didn’t hear dean enter your side of the rooms. “hey, how’s it going in h-” his words stopped once he saw the two of you making out.

pulling away from each other, you looked at dean, who was chuckling to himself as he walked away “finally, finally, finally,” was all you two heard as he his footsteps drew further.

sam looked back to you to discover you had already turned back to face him, a smile worked its way to your face, followed by a small chuckle.

sam rests his forehead agaisnt yours, “i’ve been waiting to do that for so long.”

“yeah, me too.”

you reach up to kiss sam again, this time in a slower kiss. sam is the first to pull away, he smiles at you doing so.

he glances up in the mirror, “i really do like this haircut, thanks a lot.” you’re more than proud of yourself and how much sam loved it, it all made you smile big.

sam kisses you on the cheek, “c’mon, let’s go lay down.” he took your hand and led you to your bed.

and that’s what the two of you did; for the whole night you held each other close, something you’ve both been longing for.

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

[eerna]

How would you describe the face shapes and facial features of The Lunar Chronicles girls? (Since you draw them so beautifully, I wanna know how you figured out what features to give them based off the info the books give us. Plus I began to imagine cinder's face looking exactly like your art).

Also what undertones do you give them (you don't gotta be specific, just list whether they're cool or warm). oh! You can info-dump if you want. I find it really helpful.

Yayyy thanks for the compliments and for asking this, I love talking about why I draw faces the way I do!! :D

Ok so first off here's an explanation of my general book character design process which I will base these descriptions on. For TLC specifically the canon descriptions are based not only on the books, but also this guide from MM's website.

CINDER

The starting canon point was ambiguously mixed (but definitely Asian), tan, brown upturned eyes, mousy brown hair in a ponytail, tall, all angles, boyish build and clothes. I HC her as specifically Cambodian (based on her family names and general description), so I based her features on it. She is characterized as brave and decisive ina protagonist way, so I gave her an oval face shape because ovals are serious and constant, and thick eyebrows to intensify her expressions. She sees herself as unfeminine, so I gave her thin lips and short, brown eyelashes. She is always messy and unkempt because of her work, so I gave her an uneven, shaggy haircut to match (inspired by Link LoZ for absolutely no reason). But she is also an awkward nerd, which I integrated through her big, goofy ears. I give her a warm undertone to match her eyes and offset her desaturated hair.

SCARLET

The starting canon point was white skin, curly ginger hair, super freckled, very feminine build, full lips, farmer girl vibes. Her color scheme is very low contrast with hair, eyebrows and eyes that are all within the same value range, because at one point she is described as soft curve shaped as opposed to Cinder's sharp angles, and I wanted to bring out that softness not only in shapes but colors too. She is also brave and decisive, but in a mean old lady way, so I gave her a long, pointy face to match it. I should def give her more defined curls than I usually do. I don't often color her so I thinkkkk I mostly give her a cool undertone, but it's inconsistent.

CRESS

The starting canon point was super pale white skin, nose freckles, heart shaped face, extremely messy wavy honey blond hair, sky blue eyes, super tiny. Everything about her is supposed to scream "pure sweet innocent little baby who never did anything wrong in her life" (even if it isn't the exact truth), and her face is based on a girl I saw at school when I was a teen. Her eyebrows and eye shape are anime inspired because I was an anime fan and so was MM. I give her a cold undertone.

WINTER

The starting canon point was very dark skin, Black, three scars on her right cheek, and a ton of other descriptions because she is the most beautiful girl in the galaxy and the epitome of soft, gentle, princessy femininity. We're talking full lips, gently curving features, insane eyelashes, etc. Her scars should realistically be darker, but the description of them resembling tears and their symbolism of Winter choosing to stick out like a sore thumb stuck so far into my brain that I simply gotta make use of artistic license in this case. I went for 3C type hair and its shape fits the cloud-like dreamy vibe she embodies while keeping to the glossy corkscrew description. Her eyes and lips are her mother's, and thus bear resemblance to Levana's. I give her a warm undertone.

IKO

The starting canon point was light brown skin, golden eyes, button nose, blue braids with golden accessories, and capitalist-made beauty. She is fun, fashionable, and flirty, so her color palette is braver and more expressive than the other girls'. Her beauty is noticeable, but man-made as a product instead of Winter's natural appeal. Her undertone is sometimes cold and sometimes warm because it makes the various color combos easier to execute, and also she is an android so I bet it is possible to do it anyway.

Hope this was interesting~

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Some people like to headcanon Damian as looking more like Bruce, some more like Talia, I like a middle ground, I headcanon Damian as a mix of both

I like to think he has dark/tan skin and green eyes with some hazel specks that come from Talia, his eyes's shape also from her, his nose can come either from her or from Bruce (so it's either straight or aquiline), his mouth is from Bruce (not too thin, not too thick), his face shape is from Bruce, his hair color can come from either of them, so it's either black or dark brown. His face proportions are from Bruce. He's one of the tallest from the batfam, around the same height as Bruce and Jason. His body proportions can come from either side, bc both Bruce and Ras are tall, muscular and large. And he would look good with a stubble, and somehow, having a stubble would make him look more like Bruce, but also more Arab.

He also has a suave deep voice, soft spoken, with a nice accent, a mix of Arab, British and American accent.

It's canon he doesn't like to wear suits (like gala suits, not superhero suits) because he prefers freedom and comfort. He's not American, so I headcanon you will rarely see him in his sweats on the streets. I like myself a man who cares about his appearance. So I headcanon his wardrobe it's full of clothes so simple that he can choose whatever he wants and still be comfortable, elegant, and put together. Damian is very edgy, so I give him rings, necklaces, even some earrings, some chains for streets style, all in gold. He wears mostly dark colors. Dark/cold winter pallete. Lots of black, dark green, dark blue, maroon, dark grey, and some white. His style is a mix from dark academia, edgy and e-boy, but never too much of either of them. At home, he's comfortable in pjs and athleisure.

Also the hair style I like to imagine him the most is short and buzzed on the sides and long at the top, it's hard to explain, but my favorite Damian's outfit and hair is exactly like this fanart:

Credits for the artist on the comments, and I found it on this link

And if we canon that after Alfred died he didn't get a haircut again bc Alfred was the one who did it, then I like to imagine him in Tim's long hairstyle, until he gets it buzzed on the sides and long at the top, to still keep the long part in memory of Alfred, but it gets so long that he's always tying it up, like this, and that's when he decides that too much is too much and gets a haircut again after years.

I also did him on picrew a few months ago:

Also he can have dimples. I wouldn't mind some dimples.

[christinarowie332]

too risky ?

chris sturniolo x reader (smut)

who would fold first ? and where ?

warnings: smut , language , public sex . slight pov switching . not proof read !

this is long as fuck i apologize but bare with the plot i swear

massive big fat shoutout to @mattenthusiast @iheart2021chris and @mattsd0ll for giving me the ideas for dis fic . love y’all 🤍

—————

3 days . that is how long it has been since chris and i have fucked . i am by no means a sex addict . but fucking lord i’m loosing my fucking mind .

me and chris along with his brothers decided to all take a last minute vacation to boston ; to stay with their parents. it’s the third day now and out of respect for his family i decided i wasn’t going to have sex with him in his house , i even decided to room with nick instead . we have spent the majority of this time in the house playing board games and making memories , however today we decided to go out for a meal , just the kids , justin included .

we picked a fancy restaurant but still on the more underground type , so as i’m getting ready i have no idea what im going to wear .

“chris ,baby! you can’t wear a fucking beanie!” i tease him , pulling the hat off his head as he walks past me while i’m studying my choices in his closet .

he turns around , watching me throw the beanie on the bed and ruffles his hair back into place , annoyance very openly painted on his face . “y/n , bro , my hair looks stupid i need it” he whines out , while plopping himself down on the edge of the bed , manspreading and adjusting himself and his cargo pants . i turn around , black slip on dress in hand smiling to him as i close the doors of his wardrobe and make my way between his legs .

“you look fine chris , your haircut is perfect , your outfit is perfect , your face is perfect….god your hot….” i say while situating myself standing between his legs , putting my fingers through his hair as his hands snake their way to my bare back , in a bra and shorts . he pulls me in closer , smirk growing on his face as i completely get lost in his features , the harsh above lighting making his cheekbone’s stand out, and his jawline sharper then ever . his half lidded eyes meeting mine , pupils dialated , completely black with need .

“quit being a tease y/n , you’re the one who made the rules.” his voice snaps me out of my trance , letting my hands fall from the back of his neck as i step away from him smiling .

i pull my shorts down so i’m in my underwear, watching myself in the mirror on his closet door , watching him watch me . my ass is fully in his face , a black thong being the only thing covering my body .“pass me my dress please baby” i say as i keep eye contact with him in the mirror , putting my hand out behind me before he places the silky material into my palm . i slip the dress on , the thin straps tickling my shoulders as i slowly pull them to their place , the thin material of my dress carefully falling over my curves. he watches my face in the reflective object as i do this , trying to keep from looking where he shouldn’t .

“can you do me up chris ?” i ask him innocently, referring to the sip resting against my spine . he gets up slowly and walks towards me . still looking in my fucking eyes . break chris .

his cold fingers graze my neck as he moves my hair slowly, i’m sure he can see my blood pumping rapidly in my jugular . the air is thick with tension , allmost suffocating as he slowly moves the zipper up to my neck , the first time his eyes have left mine to carefully pull the fastener up my back : wary to not pinch my skin in the metal. he meets my eyes again and i let out a breath . he puts his hands to my ear from behind me , moving my hair from my neck and moves his lips to the skin . hovering, he moves to my ear .

“I know what your doing baby”

his whisper sends a shock through my body , i inhale quickly, eyes twitching as he looks away and turns around to walk towards his bed . he lies down and puts his back against the head board , a sly smile forming as he puts am arm behind his head before speaking . “you look fucking amazing ma”

this is going to be a long night .

we finally make it to the restaurant, chris’s hand never leaving my waist , from the house , from the car , to the table . his hand only moves when we finally sit down ….to my thigh.

“what do y’all want , i’m craving a MEAN bowl of alfredo rn” nick says diverting my attention from chris’s thumb on my inner thigh , drawing small circles on the soft skin .

“nick your allways getting alfredo , this is no suprise” matt replies from across me .rolling his eyes at his older brother , skimming through the menu before continuing to speak. “imma get some gnocchi i think , the one y/n made the other night seriously changed my life” he says looking at me .

i smile and look at my own menu. “i cant decide between a ceaser salad …. or pesto gnocchi, i love them both i cant-“ i’m interrupted by nick slamming the table . everyone’s eyes on our own table and half the restaurant on him .

“this … y/n is why i love you- have i mentioned that ? because I LOVE YOU !” nick very loudly exclaims from opposite chris , leaning over the table , allmost knocking over our empty wine glasses .

“nick i think your mistaking your love for pesto with y/n , relax” chris replies nonchalantly, his voice emotionless and his face neutral .

we order our food and get lost in conversation, justin ordering the boys their soft drinks , him a jack and coke , me a red wine . our food comes and we all enjoy it , after nicks outburst i ordered pesto gnocchi. of course.

nick matt and justin get lost in a heated debate , the content of this conversation falls on deaf ears to me as i slowly feel chris’s hand move under my dress . his hands tightly placed on my inner thigh .

he moves his hand up towards my core and runs his fingers down the fabric of my underwear , earning a soft and allmost undetected gasp from me . allmost. he hears and moves his middle finger to my clit over my thong , gently running it up and down over the fabric . my hips jerk forward and my legs open subconsciously . my eyes snap to chris’s , silently pleading . his expression never changes , he just removes his gaze from me to his brothers . continuing his movements.

“i have to go to the bathroom.” i announce to the table , the conversation dies down as they all look towards me . i scrape my chair across the floor as i rise from my seat, pulling my skirt down and wiping out the creases.

he watches as i walk away before turning his head towards his brothers , meeting their confused and concerned faces .

“what?” he asks , now matching their expression , jumping from face to face .

“is she good?” justin asks while bringing is cup to his face , taking a sip with furrowed eyebrows .

“yeah is she allright?” matt asks , looking towards the disabled bathroom door .

“oh um , yeah she just isn’t feeling well …. i’ll go see if she’s okay” chris lies through his teeth before getting up and walking towards the bathroom door . his family accepts this and carry on their conversation.

chris knows the door and speaks “hey , it’s chris can i come in?” he asks sweetly . allmost immediately door swings open and i yank him by his shirt inside, i slam the door and lock it , pushing him against it .

his eyes are wide for a second, before they fall and a smirk grows on his lips . “giving up?”

“oh shut the fuck up and fuck me” i say before grabbing his neck and attaching my lips onto his . he allmost immediately reacts, grabbing my face and plunging his tongue into my mouth. he never once breaks the kiss and he walks us both over to the sink , my back hitting the ceramic object harshly , making me gasp allowing him more access to me as he explore my mouth with his tongue, no battle for dominance as his takes over while i place my hand over his dick over his pants. i break the kiss to jump on the sink counter, opening my legs to allow him to situate himself between them. he breaks the distance again , his hands move down from my neck to my hips as i wrap my legs around his waist .

i unbuckle his belt while my lips are on his , he pulls away and glances down at my hand and chuckles to himself at my eagerness .

“we gotta be quiet baby ok ? u sure u want to do this ?”. he asks while unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop to the floor . i nod and he tuts while angling his head . “i said quiet .not silent , use your words”

“yes , please , fuck me chris , please” i breathlessly ramble , nodding my head frantically as i kiss him again . not caring how pathetic i must look as i hurriedly pull down his boxers after breaking the kiss .

i watch as his dick basically springs up from where it was kept , pre cum basically dripping from the tip . seems he was just as eager . he pulls my dress up to my waist and allmost rips my thong from me , placing his hands down to my ass , pulling me to the edge of the sink counter .

he wastes no time slamming into me , a moan slipping from my lips before i slap my hand to my mouth . no preparation needed as i was practically overflowing with my own arousal . days of celibacy taking its tole very evidently . his thrusts start slow , both sensitive allready from days of wanting to be touched.

he relentlessly pounds into me , i have to drop my hand to the cold surface under me to keep me upright , he lets out quiet moans as i grind my hips slightly.

he attaches his lips to mine as he thrusts , to keep both of us from being loud , our lips muffling the whimpers but not the sound of our skin colliding as he shoves into me .

“fuck chris right there ,FUCK!” i allmost scream before realizing where i am and widen my eyes . his dick hitting a certain spot , pleasure filling my body .

“shut the fuck up and take it” he basically growls into my neck after his head collapses onto my shoulders . before removing it and grabbing my face harshly “you look so beautiful right now , look at yourself” he continues, pulling out for a second as he lifts me from the sink , turning my body around and bending me over the edge to look at my self in the mirror .

my hair is plastered onto my forehead with sweat and my cheeks are covered in blush , mascara completely covering my under eyes from squeezing pleasured tears away . i take the sight in before feeling him insert him self into me again , making me let out a moan too loud for his liking. his hand cups around my mouth as he hits from the back , his dick reaching deeper at the change in position.

“fuck i’m so close y/n , fuck , i’m-“ is all i hear as i clench around his cock , moaning into his hand . he cums deep into me as i do , both reaching our highs together .

his hips splutter against me , his chest heaving breaths before he pulls out and removes his hand from my mouth . we take a second to breathe , i lean against the counter before he throws over tissues . i clean myself up as he gets changed and helps me put on my thong .

“we need to start waiting a few days again holy fuck” he speaks as he opens the door to the bathroom and walks out .

i follow him to the table , watching as all three brothers around the table look at me with concern . chris notices my appearance, mascara and sweat still running down my face and speaks up .

“she threw up!”

“CHRIS?”

—————-

needing this rn .

sorry for not posting i have literally been busyyyyy .

love yaa -🍼

taglist:

@mangosrar @azkabanstar @biimpanicking @strniohoeee @soursturniolo @kenzieiskoolaid @kvtie444 @cabincorematt @urmyslxt @mattenthusiast @mattsd0ll @iheart2021chris @parkerssecrets @littlebookworm803 @recklesssturniolo @lovingsturniolo @loveesiren @lustfulslxt @paper-crab @daddyslilchickenfingers @ermdontmindthisaccount @chrattnick @sturnphilia @bluesturniolo333 @lea0518 @chrisolivia4l

[bonecarversbestie]

Butterflies - Elain Archeron/Elucien

Mini oneshot ~500 words | rating: G (or as i like to call these short fics: a snicky snack 😋)

This was inspired by my obsession with short hair!Elain.

This fic is also available on AO3

(Also for the record, I don't think Feyre and Nesta would react like this but I had to do it for plot reasons)

---------------------------------

Elain beamed as she made her way through her garden toward the River House’s back door. She kept running her fingers through the short curls at the nape of her neck, giggling to herself as butterflies fluttered in her chest.

She had gotten the haircut on a whim. She'd been struck by the impulse while out shopping and had let it carry her straight through the front doors of the salon.

When it was done, Elain had stared at her reflection in the salon’s mirror for so long that the stylist had had to gently shoo her from the shop to make room for her next client. She had felt like she was seeing herself for the first time—her delicate features now more pronounced, and the pointed ears she’d come to love proudly on display—and she simply couldn’t look away.

Her hair had always been a burden—too heavy and too hot when she was cooking or gardening, and a veil she’d hidden behind because she knew others found it beautiful. She felt lighter now than she ever had before.

Elain bit her lip, still smiling, as she let herself into the house.

“Elain!” Feyre’s voice rang out as she entered the kitchen. Feyre and Nesta were perched on the counter, picking strawberries out of a bowl of fresh fruit.

Feyre leapt from the counter and rushed toward her. She began running her fingers through Elain’s hair. “What happened?” Feyre asked, voice laced with confusion and concern.

Elain’s smile faltered, and her shoulders sagged. “What do you mean? I got a haircut.”

Feyre pressed her lips into a thin line as she looked Elain over.

Elain’s brows furrowed. “You don’t like it?”

Nesta hadn’t moved from her place on the counter, but the horror in her sister’s eyes was unmistakable even from where she stood in the doorway.

“No, no, it’s not that I don’t like it.” Feyre insisted. “It’s just…different.”

The butterflies in Elain’s chest began to die one by one.

“You’ve always had long, beautiful hair. It’s just jarring that you would make this choice so suddenly.” Feyre’s expression became distant as she spoke to someone mind to mind—likely Rhysand.

She blinked rapidly, refocusing her attention on Elain. “We have to go—there’s a meeting, but we can discuss this more after dinner.”

Elain sighed as Feyre and Nesta left the room. She wasn’t sure what there was to talk about. She had cut her hair. It was done. And she had loved it. She hadn’t anticipated such a strong reaction.

Elain set about aggressively scrubbing produce for that night’s dinner.

Footsteps approached, and someone paused in the doorway. She braced herself for their reaction as she turned to face them.

It was Lucien. He lingered in the arched doorway, blinking at her rapidly as if he were staring into the sun. A slow, radiant smile bloomed on his lips. “You cut your hair.”

Elain sighed heavily. “Everyone hates it,” she muttered, letting her head fall despondently to one side.

“Do you hate it?” Lucien’s voice was gentle.

Elain lifted her gaze to meet his and shook her head. “I love it.”

Lucien nodded, eyes twinkling. “Then go on loving it.”  His voice was soft, almost breathless. “It is lovely.”

Elain twinkled back at him, and a single butterfly stirred back to life in her chest.

---------------------------------

A quick sketch i did of short hair Elain -- a treat for those of you who read all the way to the bottom *forehead kiss 4 u* 😘

(also for the record i know Elain doesn't need a man's validation for her haircut, but i just think that Lucien would see her and immediately understand its significance to her)

[overtail]

Anything - Zuko x Reader

🔥🥀

IMPORTANT: I wanna apologize for all of the requests I haven't been able to complete due to writers block. Im literally only writing this to get motivated, I'm so sorry gang

...

.☘︎ ݁˖ anything - adrienne lenker (a song based one-shot)

playlist I listened to while writing this ~

Summary: The tranquil summer afternoon, a brief but blissful time, when he journeyed up the hill to witness the sight of her. Zuko harboured a secret yearning for those precious moments from the past, when her mere presence warmed his cold heart.

Warning: Tooth rotting fluff, a tad wee bit of angst

Info: Takes place before the agni kai and after the defeat of Ozai, a female intended reader, no use of (y/n), and I skipped some lyrics cause it didnt apply..........

...

'Staring down the barrel of the hot sun

Shining with the sheen of a shotgun

Carol has a little if we need some

Joyous rays, we wanna come'

The young prince felt the sweat of the summer trickle down his loosely robed back. He wiped his forehead with his bare, pale arm, beads of salty sweat sinking into the thin brows sat upon his face.

It was mid afternoon, presumably around 12:34. Zuko usually abandoned his duties of summer schoolwork around this time every Thursday, taking his long awaited treck up the hill not too far from the palace.

As mid-summer crept up, Zuko decided to wear less moisture-inducing clothing. His uncle Iroh offered him some old shorts of Lu Ten's, though they were a tad bit too small for the prince's frame. Zuko was big for his age - 10 - around 4'10 and skinny limbs. He remembered when his mother used to call him her 'little foal'. At the time, he hated the nickname. It made him feel clumsy, ridiculous, and insecure about his skinny limbs. But now as he looked back, he cherished every little detail, every memory, every signal of his mother.

Zuko liked the sounds of wood pigeons. Many of them occupied this grassy region of the fire nation. It held a feeling of calm nostalgia, like he was just a little boy once again, playing around in the gardens with his mama, teasing Azula and her friends.

As he neared the top of the hill, he heard the soft 'coo-coo' of a wood pigeon. He glanced up at a nearby tree, trying to see if he could spot the small brown winged creature. Before he could correctly inspect the tree, he was knocked to the ground.

Zuko glanced up, smiling as her toothy grin filled his sight. Her hair messily fell over both of them, all frizzy and crazy.

She yelled his name in glee, holding Zuko tight in her small arms. Zuko smiled back, patting her backside with a gentle hand.

'Hanging your jeans with a clothes pin

Skin still wet, still on my skin

Mango in your mouth, juice dripping

Shoulder of your shirtsleeve slipping'

The two sat on a ruffled blanket, watching as the breeze ruffled up the hair-like leaves of the willow trees in the distance. Her bare toes messily poked the dirt, tracing small figures and images in the grass in front of him.

Zuko watched as she chewed on the flesh of a mango, humming a soft fire-nation tune as she watched the hustle and bustle of nature below. A few droplets of the juice fell onto her lap, seeping into the dark red fabric of her skirt. She didn't seem to mind. Her stature and way of livelihood was much different compared to the strict life of a fire nation prince. It was a calming pace compared to his life back home - and maybe that was why he loved hanging out with her.

Her hair was loosely tied in two ponytails, which was obviously put up by her own hands. One was bigger than the other, mostly because half of the right ponytail was falling out and the hair was resting on her shoulder. Her haircut was choppy, and Zuko could see the gap between her two front teeth as she sucked on the fruit.

Everything about her seems so human, so carefree. Every single waking moment Zuko spent with her made him feel like a normal child.

The two spoke about ridiculous things, like how she saw a woman and her husband fighting in the middle of the nation's plaza. She told him about what the wife was wearing, how she pointed at her husband, how her husband was balding in some areas.

Her little stories helped Zuko get a glimpse of the outside world.

'Grocery store list, now you get this

Brunch, had calls and messages

I don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy

I just wanna be a part of your family'

Her eyes widened as a glimpse of remembrance filled her big, child-like eyes. She reached up, grabbing the mango out of her mouth and placing it on the blanket beneath her. Zuko chewed on his lip as the juices of the fruit rolled down the side of it.

She reached into her back pocket, shifting slightly so she could fully reach into it. As she pulled it out, it was a haphazardly folded piece of paper. Some of the corners were crumpled and ripped off, and Zuko saw crayon peeking out of one of the sides that were folded inwards.

Zuko asked what the paper was for, but only got a chest full of paper. She giggled, smiling as she awaited for Zuko to look at the note.

He unfolded the paper, looking at what was hidden inside. A small doodle of a red stickman with a crown and a smaller one of a girl (which was obvious from the triangle dress) next to him. In messy handwriting, there was text that said 'Yu as firlord' pointing to the man.

Zuko looked up with a smile, his cheeks chubby and full. He felt overjoyed seeing this, especially since he lost sense of his worth. Zuko assumed the girl was her, and she also had a crown on.

'And I don't wanna talk about anything

I don't wanna talk about anything

I wanna kiss, kiss your eyes again

Wanna witness your eyes looking'

The moonlight crept over the lip of the hill, illuminating the dew-covered grass blades around her and Zuko. Her head rested on his lap, and Zuko's hand supported his weight while he leaned on his arm.

Zuko had mentioned that he would be going to one of his father's war meetings tomorrow for the first time. He was overjoyed, all the while she wasn't very strong on the idea. She was on the left side of the war. Even though she was Fire Nation, she wasn't proud of her nation's actions.

The two spoke about the upcoming future, what Zuko's 14th birthday would be like. It was over 8 months away, but being a kid meant that day was everything. Everything.

His fingers tangled in the messy length of her hair. Her mother refused to let her cut it ever since she messed it up. 3 years later, it almost reached her back.

Zuko didn't know what was between them. 13 was a weird age, especially when your best friend is a pretty girl. She wasn't 'perfect pretty'. She was reckless, unladylike, clumsy and didn't care what she looked like, but maybe that's why Zuko admired her so much.

The two had shared a kiss. Just one. It was a singular peck on the lips, and it was only because the two wanted to know what it felt like. The boys at school didn't like her, and she was the only girl Zuko knew besides Azula.

Zuko wasn't aware what would awaken between them. It was gradual, but he started to become nervous around her. Simple things they always did like hugs, cuddling, and her laying on his lap like this soon felt like there was a secret incentive under every little detail and action. Zuko felt as if he was suffocating under his own mushed up emotions.

Though, behind all of the nervous glances and red tinted cheeks, Zuko never wanted to be away from her. Despite the new feeling, everything else felt the same. Everything felt like they were little again. Like they were still human.

'I don't wanna talk about anyone

I don't wanna talk about anyone

I wanna sleep in your car while you're driving

Lay on your lap whеn I'm crying'

Zuko watched the crowd on the beaches of the fire nation get farther and farther away as the boat slowly drifted from shore. The wind whipped his pale skin, red marks from the lack of warm temperature forming on his cheeks. Half of his sight was blocked by the bandage on his eye, making Zuko feel blind and vulnerable.

He felt as if he was ripped apart, all of the good things in his life dripped out of his wounds and seeping into the floor beneath. He couldn't cry. He couldn't feel. The world around him felt numb.

In the midst of his sulking, he hadn't even thought about her.

Zuko heard a screaming from the deck, bringing him back to reality. He glanced down to the land he just left, his eyes drifting over to the commotion below. Two guards struggled to hold back a screaming girl, her body tempted to jump into the cold ocean and swim over to Zuko. He realized who it was when she screamed for the guards to let her come with.

Her hair had come undone, falling in front of her tear-filled eyes. Her face was red from all the effort she put into trying to escape from the grasp of the soldiers. Snot ran down her nose as she sobbed, choking on the sound of her own tears.

Zuko wanted to tell the captain to stop, to turn around and bring her with, but he knew it was for the best. There were to be no distractions. His mind had to be set on capturing the Avatar, and restoring his honor.

Whenever he was with her, he felt alive. He felt human. Zuko always thought that feeling was good, not having to be a perfect robot constantly. Now as he watched the girl he once admired scream and cry just to see him one last time, he finally wished neither him or her felt human.

'Circle of pine and riddle

Circlе of moss and fire smoke

Fan on the ceiling like a wheel spoke

Push the clutch in and I pull the choke'

Three years, three long years thrown over the cliff and into the gaping hole of Zuko's tragedy.

Finally, finally, he found the Avatar. He found his meaning, he found the key to the lock that was his father's trust, his honor. Even with the determination of a thousand guards, he let the opportunity slip from his thin fingertips.

Zuko trashed his bedroom, throwing books to the ground and Knocking dressers over. A low growl echoed from his throat, followed by the choking of sobs. He didn't know how to feel, so these sudden emotions were so frightening.

The urge to stake his skin off, to scream and cry like a child, was all too much for him.

Zuko reached into his desk, grabbing loose papers and notebooks as he threw them to the floor. He cursed under his breath, biting at him bottom lip.

As he trashed every item in his desk drawer, he crumpled up another paper, throwing it onto the floor behind him. Though, before he did, he saw a glimpse of what was on the paper.

Zuko stopped his tantrum, turning to look at the paper. He saw red crayon.

[chronicangel]

little do you know the stars welcome you with open arms

Link to this fic on AO3. Words: 1245 Date posted: October 9, 2024

Summary:

Pacifica was not allowed to have short hair growing up. When she had tried to ask for a bob when she was 8 years old, her mother had argued that it took such a long time to grow hair as long as Pacifica’s, and the moment she chopped it all off, she would regret it. Plus, Priscilla had pointed out, you can do so much more with long hair.

“You really think it looks fine?”

Pacifica twists in front of the mirror again, tilting her head and watching the ends of her hair practically bounce as she tries to whip her head like if she turns fast enough she’ll be able to see the back.

“It looks good,” Dipper says without looking up from his book.

She turns to face him with a glare, hands finding a place on her hips and mouth pressing into a thin line. “You’re not even looking!”

When he drags his eyes up to look at her, he looks almost bored. “Paz, you’ve been staring at it for almost half an hour. I already looked at it,” he says. Then, after a second, he adds, “You look amazing. You always look amazing.”

She holds eye contact with him for a long moment before rolling her eyes and turning back to the mirror to scrutinize her reflection again, groaning. “I don’t know why I’m asking you. You’re biased.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him shrug behind her, shake his head, and look back down at his book with one corner of his mouth quirked up slightly in a gesture she broadly recognizes as fond annoyance. He thinks she’s being ridiculous. Maybe she is.

Pacifica was not allowed to have short hair growing up. When she had tried to ask for a bob when she was 8 years old, her mother had argued that it took such a long time to grow hair as long as Pacifica’s, and the moment she chopped it all off, she would regret it. Plus, Priscilla had pointed out, you can do so much more with long hair.

When she had asked Mabel to cut her hair, she really did only mean to get a couple of inches off to make sure she didn’t get split ends. She’d gotten her hair trimmed every six weeks routinely for as long as she could remember until she moved out and her parents cut her off, and nearly a year of no haircuts at all was starting to drive her a little crazy. Only Mabel had accidentally taken off a little too much, and Pacifica had liked how it looked a little bit shorter, and she asked Mabel to cut some more, and then…

As she turns her head again, the ends of her hair brush against her chin, and her lower lip catches between her teeth. Maybe it wouldn’t feel like such a big deal if she knew any other girls with short hair. That Mabel’s curls are gorgeous was one of the first things Pacifica was willing to admit after they first became friends, and they stretch now all the way down to her butt. For a moment, Pacifica wonders how long Mabel’s hair would be if it was straightened, but shakes this idea away. That’s too much hair to think about.

“Maybe it would look better if I hadn’t kept the bangs?” She speculates, but she’s not sure who she’s saying it to, because it’s clear at this point that Dipper isn’t listening to her. Experimentally, she finds one of Mabel’s headbands and uses it to push her bangs back. “Eugh. No.”

Brushing her fingers through her bangs and then the rest of her hair to straighten it back out, she still can’t help how… startling it is, really, how quickly her fingers escape the strands of fine hair into open air, and she thinks that’s silly. It’s silly to be so invested in the way running your fingers through your hair feels that you notice if it feels different.

“Maybe it’s the earrings?” She says. Most of her jewelry was left behind, but she takes out the diamond studs currently in her ears to replace them with large hoop earrings instead that do, at least, draw attention to the new, shorter length of her hair and the way it swooshes with every movement of her head.

She stares for a long minute as she tries to decide if this is better. She hates it. It draws too much attention to the haircut.

As she starts to look for another pair of earrings, she feels one of her elbows bump back against something solid and turns quickly to find Dipper right behind her, book tucked under his arm. “Okay,” he says, putting his hands on her shoulders when she turns to face him more fully. “This is obviously driving you crazy, and that’s driving me crazy. What can I do to help you put this whole haircut freakout to rest?”

She scans over his face for a long minute like she’s trying to find the answers there. “Do you really think it looks good?” She asks, and she thinks she’s probably steadily approaching having asked too many times if she hasn’t crossed that line already.

“Pacifica, it’s just hair,” he finally says, which is at least a break in all of the assurances that it looks fine. “If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back in like, six months. I don’t know why you care so much. I don’t care. I think you look great no matter what! I’d love you bald.”

They stare at each other with matching deer-in-the-headlights expressions. Despite the fact that they’ve been dating for nearly four months, the only person in their relationship who’s used the l-word is Mabel, and they’ve both asked her several times to stop. With Pacifica’s touch-and-go issues around intimacy and Dipper’s neuroticism, they’d agreed they’d wait until the right time.

“I mean, uh,” he starts, his voice pitching up a little bit with panic. “I’d love your hair even if you were bald. Or, uh, I guess, your not hair? Y’know, I just mean, like, I think you—”

She leans up to close the one-inch gap in height between them and press her mouth against his, and after he has a second to process what’s happening, she feels him relax against her, his hands dropping down to her sides.

When she pulls away, she doesn’t lean back very far, their faces still so close to each other that she can feel his breaths against her mouth. When he opens his mouth as though to talk, though, she snatches the hat off of his head and pulls it down onto her own, spinning around to check out her reflection with the new accessory. The lumberjack hat is nearly as long as her hair is, effectively masking the whole cut. “Hmm… Yep, I think this is what was missing.”

“Wait, w-what?” He says, a slight tinge of that panic starting to leak into his voice again. “Pacifica, I need that!”

She laughs and twists away from him as he tries to snatch it back from her, grabbing a hold of his wrist to keep him at bay. “Nope! This hat looks amazing on me, Pines, it’s mine now,” she says through a grin. Of course, it clashes terribly with the white knit sweater dress she’s wearing, but that doesn’t mean she’s not going to make him fight her for it.

Once he’s snatched it back, she keeps that devilish grin as she pushes his bangs up off his forehead to reveal his birthmark and leans up on her tiptoes to press a kiss right in the center of the Big Dipper. “Maybe you need a haircut, too,” she offers, and the sheepish grin he shoots back at her is almost worth the hat hair.

[marching-weirdo]

if you told me that I would draw pj masks in 2024 two years ago I would ask who are they.

gunntech au sketches cause I'm normal. also taken during ap us history so ignore random strokes :3. headcanons under more.

connor:

my trans king!!!! 💪💪

gave him scars. most are long and thin, since they usually happen when hes running

let Greg give him a haircut before he transitioned, now never not gets a Greg haircut ™️

stays up late reading, hence eyebags

I have a trans male friend who loves this au as much as I do, so he asked if he could "model" for catboy.

again, this was during class, so he was smouldering like Flynn Ryder while I was learning about Pennsylvania so you know

the more you know

anyway he's Filipino and I'm like OOH THIS WOULD BE COOL

so he's filipino american

also BIG EYES cause cat

gay (thanks romeo) but he's only had, like, two crushes in his life

one of the two kids who go to school

could care less what people think, likes to show off scars ("For the ladies!" his gay ass says)

interesting marching weirdo fact, the lines making up Connor are more scraggly and rough then the others! it's kinda to show he's an angst boy for me lol. but it's cool lore about me!!

imma be honest, Connor was my least favorite sorry!!

also ignore bad gay pride flag, I ran out of colors

amaya

Japanese american (I think it's in @elmushterri video)

oh also @elmushterri is the creator of this au so follow super cool and amazing and intelligent and interesting and-

psa out

lesbian

see Connors flag error for bad Yuri flag

amaya is super careful about getting hurt

see, El said in a qna that amaya was under a super strict household so her aunt probably would want her to shave her legs, etc until said aunt eventually gets redeemed and amaya can be her own girl boss

so I read that and said "HOLD MY BEER"

so when she was like 9, she got a scar on her cheek due to training with Connor and Greg

amaya went home and her aunt starting freaking out

idk if I want the aunt to say it directly to her or like to a friend on the phone that amaya hears, but her aunt says something along the lines of "scar" and "uncivilized" and "ugly" (I imagine what amaya heard was a distortion of what her aunt actually says but I degress)

since then, amaya makes sure to be as safe as she can and not get scars.

she eventually gets one on her leg, but she can cover it with pants

so she changes the "Don't get hurt" philosophy to "only get hurt where you can hide that scar"

so she is the most careful of the three

but she has multiple scars around her body

for a while she thought "if I get a scar on my arm, I won't on my face" philosophy because ngl she's my version of anxious™️

but eventually she realizes that's dumb.

her back is shredded due to enemies trying to cut her wings

eventually when she is in therapy and an adult, Luna will draw shapes on some of her scars and vice versa

adult amaya still gets embarrassed whenever someone sees her scares

anyway

amaya has terrible eyesight. horrible. Luna knows this

has a hair pin with a moon on it as a gift from luna (the notes that came with it said "for when you need to shank a bitch on short notice"

wears it everywhere

keeps hair long to hide neck scars and only puts it up during training or on duty

fun story: Greg and connor wanted her to get a really short hairstyle so they could be the "Bob boys"

amaya refused and greg and connors dream died

the other kid to go to school

star pupil. young prodigy.

as all mae whitman characters should be

fun fact: took me hours to do her nose.

finally figured it out when I looked at katara fan art and said "ah"

so MAE WHITMAN CONNECTED UNIVERSE?!?

also

her lines are very curvy and delicate to show her more level-headed thinking.

as opposed to connors roughness

my fav. I support her rights and wrongs 😔✊️

greg

rich kid mullet let's gooooooo

i kinda got inspired by a cross between andrian from miraculous ladybug and dick Grayson from Wayne family adventures

speaking of adrian

he's French American because of course

he grew out his hair to match amaya and connor hates him now

home schooled (rich kids smh)

because he's homeschooled, he doesn't care about cuts and scars and hurting himself because he thinks it's perfectly normal

also, he was sprayed with acid during a test (you know those dinos from jurassic Park who shoot venom? that but feral child)

incredibly buff and will hug you to the point of death

TALL

I looked and he seems to not have many ships with men

so an ally

he's also clueless so...

he doesn't actually know that homophobia is a thing

he sees two men kiss he thinks cool

two women? cool

a woman and a man? SAVE ROOM FOR JESUS

joking.hes chill

he has dimples and the biggest smile ever

for angst: his smile gets smaller and smaller as each season happens.

as a teen, his resting face is a smile

eventually resting he looks in pain

ANYWAY

incredibly smart

romeo hates how smart he is

but romeo is street and lab smart

greg tries

he can tell you about quantum theory but doesn't understand that people are sarcastic

he's probably autistic or has adhd or both

he probably wasn't professionally tested

Luna probably gave him a lizard to watch and Greg didn't move for 16 hours

also luna and greg are besties

because of course

fun drawing: very square

I wanted him for two reasons

1: he's always stiff due to being a Gunn

2: he feels like a robot: infinite possibilities but only if a button is hit

anyways thank you! sorry for long post! villains up soon!!

[hearted-anon]

Tickletober Day 13: Soft

Words: 1022 Note: I like hyunsung T/w: Angst Lee: Hyunjin Ler: Jisung

“Hyung-ah, what’s up?” Jisung mumbles as he stumbled into the backstage, realising Hyunjin had made a retreat to the behind the scenes faster than Usain Bolt. Most people would assume that the older was just tired, probably desperate to catch up on some sleep after the rigorous schedules he has been put through, but it was something deeper than that, Jisung knew. Maybe it was just because of their years of experience just arguing that made the younger think this way, and either way he needed to know what was going on. 

“Nothing, just under the weather.” Hyunjin huffs, creaking open the door just a little bit too forcefully to be considering his gentle nature, making Jisung frown in concern. He follows the ferret around like a fish to a bait, pestering the taller with question after question until he feels like he’s on his wits end, throwing himself onto the couch with a groan. 

“Please, tell me what’s wrong,” Jisung insists, and that’s when Hyunjin cracks. Tears begin to well up in his eyes pathetically, grabbing the younger like he was a sponge to soak up his tears. Heaving a long sigh, Han wrapped his arms around Hyunjin’s waist, silently listening to the quiet whimpers and hushed sobs that exited his mouth. A part of him saw this beforehand, how Hyunjin’s lips pursed into a thin line ever so slightly every once in a while, or how he drummed his foot against the floor almost anxiously when Chan stood on stage to give his ending speech to STAY. 

“Am I just visual to STAY? Just a pretty picture?” Hyunjin uttered under his breath, like a soft caress to JIsung’s ears that doused him in sorrow at the hear of his words. He knew exactly what the artist was referring to, how he had gotten made fun of for his haircut, the short hair being largely hated among the fan base; and now that he had the courage to grow his long hair back out did fans start to cheer for him louder and prouder. The rest of the members could only watch on in pain, knowing Hyunjin would just push them away whenever they tried to interfere. 

“Of course not, you’re pretty, inside and out,” Jisung tries to reassure the sobbing ferret, but it looks to be futile as tears continue dripping down his face. Usually Hyunjin wasn’t one to give into his emotions, wanting to keep an expression of happiness that STAY would enjoy to the very end. However, once he turned his head to look up at the quokka, his eyes were a bright red and lachrymose, sniffling every few seconds with a red nose too; as if he was doing a poor attempt at cosplaying Rudolph. 

“But- But the way STAY cheered for me that day, a-after our Maxident era…” Hyunjin protested, although the response was meek, and drained, like he didn’t want to say what he had. Just as he began to refuse the compliment, tears began welling up in his eyes yet again, making Jisung panic. He had to fix this somehow, the gears spinning in his head for solution; before a cartoon light bulb clicked above his head. 

“Oh look at you, so pretty even with tears, let’s change that shall we?” Jisung interrupted the taller’s constant babbling, fingers beginning to wiggle against his sides ever so tantalisingly. For once, he was grateful for Hyunjin’s over sensitivity to even the slightest touches, relishing in the loud squeal the older let out at the new profound feeling.

“Wahahait wait Ji!” Hyunjin whined, immediately rushing to bury his head all the way back in Jisung’s shoulder. The younger didn’t even try to pull him out, his intention was heading into somewhere more…soft after all, instead of the usual teasing self that the members were ever so fearful of. But being truthful, they were fearful of any of the members that were in teasing moods, it just came down to who was the scariest. 

“And let you suffer? I’d rather not, Jinnie~” The quokka cooed, melting Hyunjin’s heart with the sweet nickname. It only worsened his situation when the fingers squeezed and scratched his sides gently, causing high pitched giggles to flow out of the older’s mouth. His hands bunched Han’s shirt into crinkled balls, the once smooth shirt that was made to look flawless on stage now looking like he’d wear this to stroll around the dorm. 

“I cahahan’t! I cahahan’t!” Hyunjin pleaded breathlessly, pouting through his laughter when he heard the quokka giggling along, having noticed the older’s ears begin to catch its own flush. His fingers pounded gently against Jisung’s poor back, weakly begging for mercy as he shook his head in rapid succession. However, the ace didn’t let up in the slightest, continuing his loving assault all over the artist’s sides, his nails working in tandem with his sweet words that were just made to fluster Hyunjin. He had long forgotten his worries and insecurities, only able to think about how unbearable Han’s hands were all over his waist. 

“Will Mr Hyunjin stop being so worrisome then?” Jisung hummed, giving a glance of adoration to the tomato that he’s made of the taller, how he looked like a happy puppy receiving all the belly rubs in the world. Hyunjin nodded desperately, beginning to kick his feet as he smiled into Han’s shoulder in a flustered manner. Finally, he let go off the older’s waist, letting him catch his breath while he deflated like a balloon in his lap. 

“Aha..ehe..” Hyunjin babbled in a daze, almost drooling as his brain was practically in a short circuit; just what the ace wanted from him. Pulling him off his lap, JIsung carried the taller bridal style into his room, wrapping his arms warmly around Hyunjin for a cuddle. Nothing could wipe off their giddy smiles staring at each other, eventually turning into a night of loud snores and limbs tangling with each other. 

As much as Hyunjin was appreciative of the gesture, he was very much planning his revenge in his head, even in his dreams.

[snoopy333]

Hello thank you for taking my request! Can I request Tsutey’s reaction to nipple piercing? Belly piercing?

What do you look like?

Tsu’tey x Dreamwalker reader

warnings: smut

overview: after dating for a while Tsu’tey finally sees what you look like

//the description of reader is a description of myself a little cameo for you all♥️🥰

It was a day like any other really. Some of jake and your Navi friends (Tsu’tey,Neytiri, Ka’ani and sa’ayla)had come up to the Hallelujah mountains to chill and learn some human things. Like Neytiri had taken a liking to Jake Tsu’tey had done the same. One thing he had always wondered was what you looked like outside of your navi body.You always tried to explain but it never satisfied him.

“So you skin is brown like trees? and your hair is in permanent braids??” he asked with a confused look on his face. “Yes Ma-Tsu’tey”

Tonight the topic had come up again, Neytiri telling everyone about how different humans look and almost begging to see what the two of you looked like.

You laughed a bit looking at jake. “I mean our bodies are right in there but we can’t interrupt them mid session”. “ Lets put on the projector and show them our logs” Jake said. “They could see us with no mask then .”

You thought for a second,humming dramatically. “Fine” You said shrugging. You could tell tsu’tey was trying to hold back his smile as Jake set up the projector. One of jakes logs beginning to play. He sat in his chair talking about Navi food this log…

(in log)

“So most of the food is grilled over a fire and then wrapped in a leaf. I personally love the stuff but Y/n here isnt to big on the meats, Y/n say hello to my log”

You stood in the back heating up your tea.Your figure was covered with just a thin white cropped tank top and some low rise pajamas shorts. Your long black locs dropped over your shoulder passing your butt as you walked over. Ears filled with black gauges, Arms covered with tattoos. But what stood out the most was the way your nipple piercings poked through your shirt. And the way your belly pierced sat perfectly.

“Hello Jakes log..” You said sipping you tea “Hows everyone like jakes new hair” You joked ruffling his hair a bit “Im sure neytiri would love it” “You need a damn haircut sully “ Grace yelled from the back. “Goodbye log” Jake said laughing a bit “

(end of log)

“Omg y/n you’re.. whats the word jake.. AH! y/you’re hot!” You laugh at neytiris words. “I have to agree ma-y/n” Tsu’tey said his eye’s nearly blown in arousal.

After a while they group ended up watching more logs. And some old earth movies. Tsu’tey kept his arm around you. Ever so often leaving small kisses on your shoulder, Kisses on your neck right where you like them.

“I didn’t know you had piercings in my favorite places yawne, You don’t know how bad i want to bend you over right now do you”. Each word sent shivers down your spine his hand running up and down your thighs.

Once everyone fell asleep of course you two were wide awake. It didn’t take long for you two to be behind a tree with you bent over holding onto that tree for dear life. “Im so fucking lucky..you gonna let me fuck your real body one day baby? You gonna let me suck on those pretty piercings?” That night he was never more confident in fucking you. He had something to prove that night!

The next morning you woke him up in your human body mask on tight. He held his hands over your waist trying his best to not slide them up that shirt….

//sorry for the bad quality in photos 😞♥️ hope the description of myself was cool!

[vodika-vibes]

We Could Be More pt. IV

Summary: Working for the Rebellion is both exactly what you thought it might be, and totally different. Mainly because you and Cross are more free agents than anything. Still, Maz sending you to Naboo feels more like a vacation than work.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 2804

Warnings: Implications of Torture

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @ooostarwarsfandom501st

A/N: So, it took me a little while to get back to this story, but it's not dead! Go me! Anyway, I hope you all like it!

Part 1 | Part 2 (smut) | Part 3

Naboo is a beautiful planet. When not in Theeds, there are lush fields as far as the eye can see, and beautiful willows that dance in the wind. Even when the weather isn’t nice, the planet still looks like it belongs on the front of a postcard.

It’s infuriating, is what it is.

You rest your hands on the windowsill as you peer out the window at the city of Theeds.

It’s still early, but as the sun creeps across the buildings, you watch as Theeds comes to life. Windows get thrown open, curtains get pulled to the side, and children run out of their homes carrying school bags.

There’s a low groan from the bed as the sun creeps in the open window and dances across Crosshair’s bare chest, “Princess,” His voice is low and raspy from sleep, “Close the curtain,”

“You are lazy,”

“I,” Crosshair cracks open a single eye to look at you, “was working late and deserve my sleep.”

You laugh softly and pull the thin curtain closed, it does nothing to stop the sun from entering the room. Then you turn and head back to the bed so you’re able to sit next to him.

Crosshair eyes you for a moment then snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you back down to the bed so he’s able to bury his face in your neck, “There, much better.”

“You’re spoiled,” You huff as you squirm under him for a moment, to get more comfortable, and then wrap your arms around him to play with his hair. “Normal people are up and about at this time of the day, Cross.”

“Since when have we been normal, princess?”

You make a face at the top of his head but don’t reply. Instead, you busy yourself with playing with his short hair. Crosshair remains tense under your hands for a moment but slowly relaxes as he drifts back to sleep.

The pair of you have been on Naboo for three weeks, trying to complete the first of Maz’s deliveries.

Trying being the keyword, as something of a pickle has developed.

That pickle comes in the form of the Emperor’s Cyborg enforcer, Darth Vader. The women who are your contacts on Naboo were quick to stash the pair of you in a safe house, just until Vader leaves Naboo.

This has the rather annoying side effect of meaning that you and Cross can only operate after sundown. It also means that you can’t leave Naboo until Vader is gone.

Crosshair, after all, is very obviously a clone.

Your arms tighten around him slightly. The idea of Vader taking him from you, of rewriting him and making him someone else, someone loyal to the Empire, is enough to make you want to flee to Pabu.

Where he’ll have support.

He stirs in your arms, and you loosen your grip, your gaze darting to his face. He’s still asleep, his face peaceful and youthful in his slumber.

He needs a haircut, you think absently as you brush some of his hair back, I’ll mention it to him when he wakes up.

One of the more interesting developments since your confinement to this Nubian safehouse is the evolution of his nickname for you.

You’ve been ‘Kitten’ to Crosshair almost since the day you met. He wasn’t able to remember your name when you first met, and the nickname made you so angry that he kept using it just because it got under your skin.

Eventually, you got used to it. Even responded to it, though if anyone else called you Kitten they’d get up close and personal with your fists.

But, about a week ago, you woke up after a long night of negotiations, to breakfast in bed, and Crosshair calling you Princess. You tried to ask him about it, but he refused to comment on it, other than saying that Kitten didn’t suit you anymore.

You don’t miss the nickname. 

But you are still curious as to what caused the switch.

Absently you card your fingers through his curls, lightly dragging your fingers against the top of his head, and Crosshair releases a pleased-sounding groan. 

“You are just determined to not let me sleep,” He mumbles, his breath warm against your neck.

“You can sleep as long as you like, but I need to get up.” You reply to him.

His dark eyes scan your face, for long enough that your face starts to heat. Which, frankly, is embarrassing in and of itself. The man’s seen you in every state of undress there is, there’s no reason him looking at you should make you embarrassed.

“What?”

“You have a sunburn,” Crosshair murmurs, reaching up to lightly brush his fingers across your hairline, “Been sunbathing, princess?”

You press your hand over his, “I need to do something during the day,” You scan his face for a moment, “I really do need to get up, Cross.”

“In a bit,” 

“Cross—” His name gets cut off by a started yelp as his lips move to just under your jawline, and he bites down hard enough that you know a bruise is already forming. “What was that for?” You ask, once he’s pulled away and you’re able to press a hand against the bruise.

He flashes an unrepentant grin and releases you, ��Just making sure that our contacts know what our relationship is like.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Next time, maybe you’ll let me sleep.”

“Next time, I’m dumping a barrel of ice over your head.” You counter snarkily as you roll out of bed and head to the fresher.

“Then I’ll just leave more marks on you for people to admire.” Crosshair replies as he wraps his arms around your pillow and buries himself into the soft material, “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll wake you for lunch.” You step into the fresher and close the door behind you, intent on showering and then going downstairs to make breakfast.

With luck, Vader will leave Naboo in the next couple of days and you and Cross can move on.

You’re both starting to get antsy.

You shower quickly, not wanting to wake Crosshair again and slip out of the bedroom to head down into the kitchen. You’re not going to make anything overly difficult, you’ve never been much of a breakfast person. 

Luckily, the kitchen is fully stocked, and you’re about to pull the bottle of fruit juice that you prefer first thing in the morning when the doorbell rings.

You pause, eye the front door, and then close the door to the fridge. Slowly, because you’re not expecting any company, you walk over to the front door and pull the door open, and your breath catches in your throat.

There, darkening your doorway, is none other than Darth Vader himself.

Standing nearly 7 feet tall, he towers over you, and with his armor, he fills the doorway, though he doesn’t try to force his way into the house. Of course, you also aren’t trying to slam the door in his face.

His impassive helmet stares down at you, and you avert your gaze. “Can I help you?” You ask, your voice quiet.

“You are a rebel,”

It’s not a question, it’s an accusation, and you have to squash your fear with an iron fist. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“We have gotten reports that you, and a male companion, have been working at night.”

“Well, I don’t know who’s telling you that, because I’m alone.” You reply, strongly.

“You’re lying.”

You sigh, “Okay, fine.” You shrug lazily, “There was a man. Several of them, actually. I’m young and attractive, I’m allowed to look for a good match, aren’t I?”

Vader pauses, “Reports indicate that the man is the same one every time.”

“Right, because that’s so easy to tell at night when there’s no lights?” You roll your eyes dramatically, “Question, is the Empire interested in every young woman’s sex life, or am I special?”

“You’re coming with me.”

“Why?”

“I do not need to give you a reason.”

You stare at him, send a silent prayer that Crosshair won’t do anything stupid, and then flash your most sarcastic smile, “Can I put on some shoes, or am I to walk barefoot?”

“Where are your shoes?”

“The closest, because I wasn’t raised in a barn.”

“You may get shoes.”

“You are the picture of charity.” You bite out, as you spin and head to the closet. Carefully, you pull out your sandals and make sure that Crosshair’s boots remain hidden, and then you turn back to Vader.

You drop your sandals in front of the stairs and kneel to strap them to your feet, glancing up at the top of the stairs where Crosshair is standing, a look of fury, mingled with fear, on his handsome face.

For a moment, just a moment, your gaze locks with his, and then you finish strapping your sandals to your feet and head to the door, “Am I to be handcuffed?”

“Are you a threat?”

“I’m fairly certain that your bicep is bigger than my thigh, so no.” You wince as he grabs your arm and you’re shoved at a group of Stormtroopers.

This is going to suck.

But, at least they don’t have Crosshair. So silver linings, you suppose.

Crosshair stares at the spot where his Princess had just been standing, fury nearly strangling him. Well, not just fury. There’s no small amount of terror there as well.

The very idea of Vader having her is enough to give him nightmares most nights.

The knowledge that Vader actually does have her sends ice down his spine.

He has to get her back.

He has to.

He can’t exist without her next to him.

Crosshair hurries back to the bedroom and pulls his blacks, and armor, on faster than he ever has before. He checks his sniper rifle and straps his pistol to his hip, and then he’s flying down the stairs.

He rips open the door and comes face to face with their contacts.

He looks at them, “Sorry, I don’t have time for this—” He tries to push through them, but surprisingly strong hands against his chest plate shove him back into the safe house, and the door is slammed behind the only blonde in the group.

Crosshair rips his helmet off, his teeth bared in a silent snarl.

“You need to calm down,” The defacto leader snaps.

“Vader took her—”

“We know!” She snaps, and then she closes her eyes and exhales, “We know. And, believe it or not, we’re here to help.”

“Why?”

The woman pauses and then she exhales slowly, “My name is Sabé, I was Padmé Amidala’s handmaiden since we were children. I know who Vader was before he became Vader.”

“Why does that—”

“He was Anakin Skywalker.”

Crosshair stops and stares at her, “You’re shitting me. Skywalker died. Just like every other Jedi.”

“No. He didn’t.”

“Okay,” Crosshair replies slowly, “Okay. So…that’s not ideal.”

“You’re going to need help to save your girl.”

“Do you have any suggestions?”

Sabé smiles, though there’s a hint of sadness behind her smile, “It’s going to take time. Your girl is going to be with the Imperials for a while.”

Crosshair’s hands curl into fists. He doesn’t want that. He wants to run and get her now, to wrap her in his arms and promise that no one is going to take her from him ever again.

He’s no Tech, but he’s smart enough to know when he’s in over his head.

“Will they take her from Naboo?” He asks.

“No. She’s going to remain here, in an Imperial detention facility.” Sabé replies, “I can’t promise that she’ll be safe in their care, but I can promise that we will get her back.”

Crosshair closes his eyes, “Do I have a choice?”

“Not any good ones, no.”

He sinks onto the couch and buries his face in his hands, “Fine.” He finally says, after a long moment of silence, “Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

Sabé lightly touches his shoulder, “It’s safer this way. I promise.”

You wince as you shift on the thin cot that has been yours since the day Vader tossed you in here. Everything hurts.

You’re covered in bruises, from your head down to your toes.

However, the most painful injury comes from the missing eye. A parting gift from Vader before he left you to the tender mercies of the Purge Troopers.

You’re beginning to think that Crosshair isn’t coming to get you.

Of course, he shouldn’t come here. He’s a clone, it’s so much more dangerous for him to come to a Detention facility than it is for you.

And maybe, if you repeat that enough times, you’ll believe it yourself.

You roll onto your side, your arm folding over your ribs, trying to shield them from any more pain, and you try to fall asleep.

Try being the keyword.

You jolt in surprise when, only a few minutes later, there’s a massive explosion from somewhere in the facility. Slowly, you sit up and cast your gaze towards the door.

There’s the sound of blaster fire and shouting. And then there’s more blaster fire. And then the hallway holding the cells falls silent.

Slowly you stand, and then you jump as your cell door slams open. A man, in very familiar armor, stands in the doorway.

“Cross—?” You whisper.

He rips his helmet off, revealing the sniper in question. His sharp gaze lingers on your bruises, and on the bandages wrapped around your head, “Princess,” His voice is a sigh, and you have to blink back tears.

“You came,”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” He opens his arms for you, and you fly into his embrace, your arms wrapping firmly around his neck while his wrap around your waist.

“I don’t know.”

He exhales slowly and tightens his grip, “That’s alright, Princess. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“I want to leave Naboo,” You mumble against his neck.

“I know you do, Princess. In a little bit, I promise.” Crosshair releases you, takes your hands in his, and then pulls his helmet back on and leads you through the smoke-filled halls.

He passes you over to a man with a medical cross on his shoulder, and then he squeezes your shoulder and vanishes back into the crowd, heading back into the detention center.

In the end, the Empire is forced to back away from Naboo, the young Queen putting her foot down about the Imperial Army kidnapping her people and torturing them.

The Queen also barred Vader from ever returning to Naboo, claiming that the man who murdered former Queen Amidala has no place on the world that she called home. And, despite what Vader argued, Sabé and the rest of Padmé’s former handmaidens made sure that everyone knew that Darth Vader was actually Anakin Skywalker.

Of course, none of the political stuff really applied to you.

You spent two weeks recovering in the best hospital on Naboo, the second week spent getting fitted for a very nice-looking cybernetic eye. The eye is just as intricate, and delicate looking, as anything the Nubian people have ever made, and it almost looks like an art piece, when you’re finally able to see it.

Crosshair spends all of his time at your side, hovering like a particularly foul-tempered bodyguard until you’re finally released from the hospital. He doesn’t relax until the both of you are safely on the Signal once again. 

And, it’s only once the ship is back in orbit, that Crosshair hands control of the ship back to Peabody, and he drags you to your shared bedroom.

His hands come up to cup your cheeks, and he slowly presses his forehead against yours, “Never again.” Crosshair says quietly, his gaze serious, “I mean it, Princess. You don’t get to get captured again.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t blame you.”

You open your mouth to say something, only to hesitate. “I…thank you. For coming to get me.” Your love for him will remain a secret, for now. You wouldn’t want him to think that you only love him because he saved you, after all.

“I’ll always come for you, Princess. Always.” His lips lightly brush against yours, as if afraid of hurting you even more. “Maybe we should just go to Pabu,” He offers.

You shake your head immediately, “We still have other planets to visit, Crosshair.”

“I know, but—”

“The other planets won’t be like this. I know it.”

Crosshair stares at you for a moment, and then he sighs, “If this happens again—”

“We can return to Takodana and offer Maz our apologies.”

He watches you for a little longer, and then he smiles, “Alright. Deal.”

[luke-shywalker]

he’s still a baby to me

I thought only girls did this sort of thing, Leia thought to herself as she navigated Han’s electric clippers around Ben’s head. Her fourteen-year-old son sat there, stone-faced, his knuckles gripping the edges of the kitchen chair.

Leia was currently performing damage control on a self-inflicted haircut. Ben had grown out his hair long enough to brush his shoulders, and he’d worn it like that for a few years, irritating Han to no end—but Leia knew Ben hadn’t cut it to please his father.

“Is everything going alright at school?” Leia asked carefully, sweetly, the same way she would on any other Friday night. But she knew that Ben saw right through that in an instant.

“Yes,” he muttered curtly.

“Are you feeling all right, sweetie?”

“I’m great.”

Leia paused, considering her next move like it was a game of dejarik. Honestly, sometimes it kind of was. Teenage boys were an unfathomable mystery.

Ah—she had it.

“I cut my own hair, once, too,” she said lightly. “When I was about your age. Women on Alderaan would always grow their hair so long—because of the traditional braids. I chopped all my hair off one day, just to give my attendants a heart attack, and had to wear hairpieces whenever I was out in public for the next five years.” She chuckled at the memory.

No response.

Gee, tough crowd, Leia thought.

Ben tugged at his long sleeves. These were the last days of summer, when school had already started but the air was still hot—not like the cool autumns of Alderaan, which had always seemed to come early as if to usher in the winter festivities as quickly as possible. But all summer long, Ben had been living in that same disgusting sweater, oversized and pilling—she had to force him out of it once a week to get it into the wash, and yet it still wasn’t enough to keep that old hand-me-down of Han’s from smelling distinctly of boy—

But a new thought had occurred suddenly to Leia, and her motherly instincts kicked into overdrive—teen angst—haircuts—scissors—blades?—and she found herself seizing his arm and rolling up his sleeve in one quick motion. “Mom!” he yelled.

But there was nothing to find. Only a pale, skinny wrist that hadn’t seen a single ray of sun all summer. She relaxed.

Kind of.

“I was…checking your eczema,” Leia fibbed. “Do you still put your cream on every night?”

“Yeeees.”

“Good boy.”

Nothing.

I wish I knew what went on in his head, Leia thought.

And then: …No. No, I don’t.

She remembered having her own share of teen angst, at his age—but, it had been quickly replaced by some very real trauma that had turned her forty years old at nineteen.

She had had some wild thoughts in her time. Scary thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Did everyone, she wondered? Or, was it just her…?

Anyway…she had to trust that Ben would turn out okay. Just like she had.

…Force, she thought to herself as she turned off the clippers and dusted off her kid’s shoulders. Did I turn out okay?

She stood there a moment, staring at nothing, trying to figure out whether or not she had turned out okay, whether or not she was raising her son okay—but Ben interrupted her racing thoughts.

“Mom, can I go now?”

Leia blinked rapidly. “Yes, yes, of course, sweetie. Come back downstairs for dinner around six, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Ben, even though both of them knew he wouldn’t be coming down until twenty-seven “Ben, dinner”s after six-thirty. “Can I play hologames with Poe?”

“Are they appropriate?”

“You’ve literally killed people, Mom,” said Ben, and bounded upstairs, nearly tripping himself over his too-long legs. “You don’t get to tell me what’s appropriate.”

“Ben Solo, where did you pick up that attitude of yours?” Leia yelled up the stairs.

But that, of course, was a ridiculous question in this household, and one that didn’t necessarily require a response.

Leia sighed and stooped to sweep up the hair trimmings by hand. Her knees ached a little. The short locks of black reminded her of the thin wisps of hair she had saved, in a little traditional chest she had received from another Alderaanian ex-pat at her baby shower. She stood up again, and remembered how it had felt to carry him.

He’s still a baby to me, she thought, fingering the strands.

[wanderpawn]

thank you, furina...

✧ neuvifuri angst ✧

Neuvillette shows up at Furina's door in the middle of the night, knocking fervently; something is very wrong, but they're unable to speak. Their first thought was to come to her door because they knew Furina would be the only person who could get it out of them.

warnings: hurt/comfort + angst, Neuvillette has dissociative identity disorder, Neuvillette is transmasc, they/them pronouns for Neuvillette, a slight hint of a switch is described, there are briefly described sh scars, Neuvillette is called by one of their dissociated parts' names, lots of hugs at the end!

word count: 1,005

link to ao3

There was water. Everywhere.

The streets of Fontaine were completely soaked, and the lonely culprit who caused it was left standing awkwardly on the front steps of the house of the only person they knew would be able to fix it.

Knock knock knock. Knockknockknockknockknockknockknockkno —

“YES, I’m coming, I’m coming! Sheesh, it’s almost one in the morning, you’re lucky I’m still awa—”

The door swung open, and Furina was met with an unusual sight, certainly; in her threshold stood Neuvillette in a state she had, quite frankly, never seen them in before.

Their hair was much shorter. Furina remembered they had mentioned recently they were getting another haircut. But short hair aside, they appeared rather… chaotic?

They were without their coat, for one. They hugged themself tightly across their chest; the absence of their gloves revealed the pale blue nail polish the two of them had matched with a couple weeks ago, freshly chipped and cracked. Neuvillette’s long, blousy sleeves were pulled much higher than usual, revealing the thin, white, horizontal scars on their left wrist that Furina had spent so many nights absent-mindedly tracing as she hummed sweet, yet solemn melodies.

There was no solemn melody that could fix the way Neuvillette was feeling right now, though.

Furina’s gaze softened instantly as it settled upon her friend’s petrified face.

“Neuvillette… are you crying…?”

And sure enough, as they let out a loud sniffle, a few tears fell down their face, pained with a contorted expression.

“Come inside, okay? You don’t have to say anything, just come inside.”

The Hydro Dragon followed their friend inside her townhouse, watching as she flicked on various lamps as she made her way across the room.

“Sit down on the couch, I’ll be right there.”

Neuvillette nodded slowly, even though they knew Furina wasn’t watching, but it was the only sign they could give in that moment; before taking a seat in the corner of the couch, hugging their small frame to their chest anxiously.

Furina returned a moment later with a glass of water, a notepad, and a pen. She put them down on the side table near Neuvillette, and they eyed the glass of water hesitantly as they blinked the tears out of their field of vision.

The ex-archon then sat down next to the Hydro Dragon, mimicking their curled-up posture.

“What’s wrong, Neuvi?” She asked finally, her voice laced with worry.

‘It’s not like them to be this upset…’

Neuvillette merely stared at her for a good few minutes, occasionally wiping stray tears on their sleeve, but Furina waited. She knew they were trying to get the words out.

Eventually, with so little air in their lungs, and a shaky voice, almost a whisper, they mumbled,

“I need you… to say that I’m the real Neuvillette….”

Somehow, Furina wasn’t shocked at all. She merely smiled and scooted a tiny bit closer to her friend, who was currently staring intently at the couch cushion between them.

“Of course you are. You’re the real-deal Hydro Dragon Sovereign, the actual Chief Justice Neuvillette. ‘There is only one Iudex of Fontaine in this world,’ remember? Neuvillette, look at me– you’re crying again…”

Neuvillette sniffled, rubbing their wet face on the bunched up fabric that was their sleeves. “I’m sorry…” they muttered through gritted teeth.

“What’s got you like this, Neuvi? Whatever it is, it’s not silly if it’s got you this upset.”

They looked into Furina’s eyes then. Even if it was only for a second, seeing her usually sparkling, wonder-filled eyes in such a state of crinkled concern over them was enough to push Neuvillette over the edge.

“I… I was at the bookstore… a-and there was this book…” They choked then, staring at the couch cushions once more.

“Go on…”

Neuvillette whimpered slightly as they recalled the fuzzy memory.

“I was at the bookstore, and there was a book… about a character named Madame Neuvillette… who is a supreme court member… and I think it was a popular book, too…”

Furina nodded slowly. “I see… so not only did it set off your dysphoria, but it also stole your identity…”

“Yes, exactly.” Neuvillette worriedly glanced over at their friend, tugging on their horns absent-mindedly.

Furina took a deep breath. “First of all, you’re definitely the real Neuvillette,” she began after a moment of deliberation,”Second of all, you’re a man, through and through. You have short hair to prove that.” She glanced over at them, delighted to see the tiniest ghost of a smile on their face. “And third of all, can’t you file some sort of ‘cease and desist’ order against this book?”

Neuvillette sighed tiredly. “I wish it were that simple… Wouldn’t it seem petty and narcissistic if I limited the artistic expression of Fontainians simply because I’m not comfortable with it?”

“Monsieur Leviathan Neuvillette, you once wrote a law that no domestic pets can be named after me. I think you can write a law that no one should be able to use your likeness in fiction.”

Neuvillette hunched over, sliding down on the couch, their eyebrows knit with exasperation.

“...I suppose I’ll try it…”

“Yaaayyy~!!” Furina cheered, leaning in to give Neuvillette a big squeeze.

The Hydro Dragon happily returned their friend’s hug, finding a nice place to rest in the crook of her neck, and finally allowing themself to smile a little.

“I’m happy you were able to say it out loud this time,” Furina spoke warmly, hugging them a little tighter. “You’re getting stronger, Neuvi.”

“Ahaha… yes, maybe so… is that why you brought the notepad?”

“Maybe…”

Neuvillette glanced over to the side table, eyeing the glass of water once more.

“Thank you, Furina.”

The rain outside had almost completely stopped at this point. It would be a peaceful remainder of the night; just Furina and the real, actual Hydro Dragon Sovereign, Leviathan Neuvillette, who understood each other better than anyone else.

Because in the end, Furina was right. There is only one Iudex of Fontaine in this world.

Just as it should be.

Thank you for reading my cringe little self identifying fic ( ；∀；) (it's totally not me writing about how I'm the real Neuvillette, whaaat, noooo... /sarcasm)

[deleteddewewted]

Trans! Shinso Headcanons

Shinso x Gn! Reader

W/n: This is something I've hc for a long time but also something I've talked to a mutual about. Shinso gives some gender envy.

W: Insecurity, Shinso has parents (Not Eraserhead), Mentions of Transphobia, Intersex Character, Mentions of Needles (Not Graphic/Testosterone injections), Puppy love, Body worship (non-sexual), Mentions of therapy, Depression, Medication Usage

Commissions: Open! (You can commission me on Ko-fi!)

His parents were always upfront with him about him being intersex.

They wanted him to have a choice about who he was and what he wanted to do his health.

The world around them was safer and more understanding since quirks began to appear.

But it wasn't a 100% guarantee that people would be loving or embracing.

Bigotry and hate still prevailed and people maintained divided regarding mutants and quirk types.

They knew that if their child was going to be part of a unique demographic, they would rather their kid be prepared to face it rather than deny themselves from seeking their happiness.

So they did everything they could to make life enjoyable for.

They wen with what their doctor said and allowed Shinso to grow up unique himself.

They gave him the freedom to choose the clothes he wanted to wear and what toys he wanted to play with.

If he wanted to wear dresses they'd let him. If he wanted to have his haircut short they'd cut it short for him.

He was allowed to experiment and enjoy his childhood.

It was the outside world that was a little harder to navigate.

He would wear pink at times just because the color was stimulating to him.

He'd wear bows in his hair alongside his school uniform and he'd get teased for it by his classmates.

He couldn't understand why or the reasons behind the comments his classmates would make about him.

He remembered just feeling hurt and uncomfortable wearing certain items of clothing after the fact, at least in public.

As he entered middle school things started to fall into place for him.

He liked it when people would call a boy or a "young man".

He enjoyed presenting as more masculine and he enjoyed doing things that labeled him "manly".

But he still liked the more feminine things from his childhood.

He would buy makeup and his parents would encourage him to wear whatever he wanted.

He would paint his nails and would do his mother's nails too just because he found it relaxing.

He started using "he" and "him" pronouns.

It felt right. He felt right.

His parents took him to speak with his therapist and see what they could do to better support him since he was nearing puberty and it would create more complications with his quirk and his hormones.

They then took him to his doctors and had all the options listed out for them on what they could do to help him.

He was put on puberty blockers and was later on given testosterone.

The year before entering UA was an event in itself.

He was smaller compared to his other classmates.

He was thin and lanky with a little bit of peach fuss on his face.

Everyone was so fantastical and outgoing while he was the guy with an awkward smile and a raspy laugh.

He felt out of place again but it was now for two reasons.

His quirk was the thing that people focused on the most and it made him both self-conscious and resentful.

He wondered what life would be like if he hadn't developed his quirk. On other days, he asked if it would be easier to just be the villain others made him out to be.

It got bad for the first few weeks into UA.

He switched his dosage for his antidepressants and it caused him to get drowsier.

He could barely focus on his classes and he isolated himself from his class.

Nothing felt right and nothing felt good.

He hated how he looked and he loathed that he wasn't his "heroic" classmate.

He hated that he wasn't as defined or as muscled as his male classmates.

All of it. All of it took him into a deep depression and dark thoughts began to consume him.

He wanted to stop wearing his binders and he wanted to stop taking his hormones.

He just wanted everything to stop.

He just wanted to have a moment to breathe.

Shinso started taking his bike out with him on long rides around his neighborhood and on the weekends he would go out to a trail and just ride.

He was happy with the isolation and he felt like he had fresh air whenever he was far away from other people.

He liked it better this way.

He liked the loneliness because there was no judgment and no pressure.

And yet you turned that around when you came into his life.

When you came into his life it was like something had knocked the air out of him.

Your smile was infectious and your pretty eyes were the most mesmerizing thing in the world to him.

He knew he looked bizarre and out of place even among a sea of students with a variety of physical differences. He knew his presence was intimidating, but you, you were something else entirely.

You were so unique.

You lived your life in a way he did not think possible. You didn't care about what others thought about you or the way you dressed.

You spoke your mind, you embraced the flattering and unflattering aspects of your quirk.

You were free from the confines of teen angst and social pressure.

You looked comfortable in your skin.

You looked like the breath of fresh air he had been looking for.

He followed you around and sat next to you whenever he could even though he wouldn't say anything to you.

His face would get red just being near you and he'd subconsciously improve his posture and puff up his chest to impress you.

Was it kinda of cringe? Sure. Did you find it cute? Yes.

He'd offer up his class notes to you so you could study them if you felt lost during the lectures and he'd even draw silly cat doodles on a piece of paper just to leave them on your desk for you to find.

He was whipped by just how nice you were and how understanding you were with him.

You were always talking to him even if he didn't talk back.

You never asked him about his quirk and you'd never point out his scrawny physic.

You did mention his mustache that was starting to come in. You said it was cute and that he'd looked good with a mustache.

He was so flattered and felt so validated. You made him feel like he was good enough for you despite the fact everyone kept telling him that his quirk with yours wasn't compatible.

He felt good just being around you.

He liked getting compliments from you and you liked being around him.

You both grew closer and eventually, he started asking you to come over to his house to hang out and eventually ended up staying the night over multiple times throughout the week.

You learned a lot about him just by spending time at his place.

You liked cuddling with his stuffed cat plushie and you liked that his room had this playful feel to it.

He wasn't big on decoration but he had posters of his favorite movies and music bands all over the walls. He had those sticky stars and planet glow-in-the-dark stickers on the ceiling right on top of his bed.

He was also pretty open about his transition. (He told you he was trans and after another sleepover at his place he told you he was intersex.)

He would share his things with you like clothes and menstrual products since he always kept extra just in case.

You both would go shopping together and on more than one occasion he has asked you for your input on what binders he should get among other things.

He asked you if you would be ok with being in the room with him when he had to take his testosterone injections.

You both fell into a natural and almost domestic relationship and be it that he hadn't outright asked you out you both just started treating each other as partners.

You were exclusive with him and he was the same way with you.

Once he started bulking up from his training with Eraserhead, he started gaining confidence that wasn't really there.

He was more comfortable being shirtless around you. He even started sleeping without a shirt on when you stayed the night.

And because of this, he decided he was finally going to ask you out officially.

He was nervous of course. You were his first everything. You were the only person who he felt was his support besides his parents and the few friends he had managed to make along his journey to join the hero course.

You'd reassure him and reaffirm him on the things he was doing even if you didn't fully understand why he was doing them.

So as you both lay in his bed cuddling and trying to sleep, he whispered to you just how much you mean to him.

"You've been there for me since we've met and you've ever asked me to explain myself to you. You accepted me for who I was and that's something I've only had happened to me just a few times in my life. I can breathe with you here. I don't feel trapped or stuck anymore."

He took a big gulf before kissing the back of your neck and pressing himself closer to you.

"I love you more than words could describe and I wanted to ask you if you would officially be my partner. I couldn't envision a future in which I'm not with you and you're not with me." He waited in what felt like hours of silence before you answered him with a soft yes.

You both stayed together, wrapped in each other's arms excited to see what the future would hold for you and in your newly established relationship.

[anachronistic-falsehood]

WHISKEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i need ur thoughts & notes on visual appearances for all of the greats!!! what do they all look like out of costume & what r their costumes & vibes like & everything................ wgat would u want to see in art of them etc......... for no particular reason........... kicks clip studio paint under my desk.........

HIIIII HIHIHHIHIIII <3 omgg ok. alright. ok this is gonna get long i am SO SORRY in advance my ass is gonna RAMBLE

STRIDER!!! i have a very clear image in my head of him ok. short king. like 5'2. dark skin, lots of scars from various incidents, keeps his hair in cornrows bc he does not want it to be loose and long bc during his trigger event it was grabbed and pulled a lot while he was getting beat up!!! briefly debated cutting it all off but he did just start growing it out after being made to keep it short in foster homes and he doesn't wanna reset that progress ANYWAY after joining the greats he usually still wears hoodies and jeans, but now he's finally got a little bit of Spending Money so he wears some techwear stuff sometimes, and he might throw on some simple jewelry like thin chain necklaces and the occasional ring or two. no piercings tho, does not want things people could yank out of his skin!!!! the simple jewelry does make him feel like he actually stands out a lil bit more. also V IMPORTANT he finally gets some fucking mobility aids after joining the greats!! he wears a knee brace on his right leg sometimes and he also has one of those sword canes!!! it's got a poignard dagger hidden in it!!! his hero costume is like. fantasy rogue shit. black cloak with a hood, scarf over his lower face, and he wears combat boots EVERYWHERE no he doesn't care if they dont go with his outfit GRAYSON, they're good fucking boots and they're COMFORTABLE dammit!!! may occasionally wear platforms. he likes 2 feel tall

grayson!!! honestly i feel like i'm doing him so dirty w the image of him in my head bc he's a tiefling in canon but here he's just a basic fucking white guy. basic as shit kind of nerdy looking white guy. there's practically nothing to work with in canon for grayson all we know if that he's described as stoic so i'm taking that as hes autistic as hell and doesn't know how to fucking Talk to people. nerdy ass white boy obsessed with medieval shit!!! he's got curly brown hair and has glasses and wears like button ups and shit like that. his costume is a full suit of armor with dragon motifs and he fights with a two sided polearm!!! i have decided tho i would like him 2 have some vaguely inhuman traits??? idk how traits like that work in worm yet tho, like idk if it's a cauldron case 53 specific thing??? i don't think it is but PLS correct me if im wrong!!! i just want him 2 have tiny horns or maybe other small tiefling traits like a tail or something if that is in any way possible without him being a case 53. just as a Nod to what he is in canon bc if i just make him a white boy with no inhuman traits whatsoever i would be like That's Not Grayson who tf is this cracker!!!

RAM MY BELOVED. ok. this guy is straight up jesse mccree. idc that mccree's name has changed i haven't been invested in overwatch in a while but anyway ram just straight up looks like jesse mccree 2 me im SORRY!! like. he is not Muscular like mccree is, he was def skinnier in college and then after joining the greats he put on some weight that he def needed. he's latino, he's from texas, he's got that mccree haircut and scruffy facial hair, he wears cowboy boots and jeans and plaid shirts and OFC a cowboy hat!!! sometimes wears sunglasses when his extreme perception is Too Much for him. he's got a couple tattoos prbably, just random shit he got in college that he thought would look cool, like skulls or knives or some shit. his hero costume is kind of like in canon where he wears a poncho and cowboy hat and all that western shit, but he also wears a bandanna over his lower face. basically when he first joined the greats he was a skinny mexican/texan college kid with Trauma and Depression and a really bad vyncent sol style soul patch and then he got better and turned into a bear <3

min ily!!! she's a halfling in canon and i cannot imagine her as anything but Short As Fuck. like under 5 ft. like 4'6 or somewhere in that range. LITERALLY so fucking tiny!!!! squish her like a bug!!!! i always imagined her in canon with sailor moon ass purple pigtails so i think she's got purple hair. maybe she's the reason virion dyed his idk idk!!!! out of costume she dresses like she shops at claire's tbh. mabel pines but grown up. silly shaped earrings and pants with rhinestones on them and silly graphic tshirts and comfy cardigans!! girl WHAT are you even wearing!!! in costume she is SO different though. she has been underestimated bc of her appearance so she wants to make sure people know she is Not To Be Fucked With. i am so bad at cape costume design so idk exactly what it would look like but im picturing like. black bodysuit with bright blue spiky armor that looks like ice over the vitals, the arms and legs of the bodysuit are cut off to leave them bare because she's transforming her limbs into water and ice in battle more often than not, and her head is wreathed in ice to cover her face and hair. she WILL change her legs into tall ass ice spikes and walk around towering over everyone with her featureless spiky ice head. horrifying thing to see coming at u!!! like slenderman but elsa flavoured

GOD im sorry this is so long. jesus. anyway chungus!!! im changing his name btw his name is gus and chungus was just a shitty mean nickname he was given in school. i CANNOT take his ass seriously with a name like chungus so im changing it. anyway!! u thought ram was a bear??? well chungus is like. a fucking BEAR. ram is like a cub and gus is a Real Bear. Large Hairy Man!!! genuinely fucking huge. tall as hell too. u know hafthor bjornsson?? that fucking guy but fatter and hairier probably. he's like over 6ft. has long hair that he keeps pulled back. sometimes he lets min or virion braid it <3 doesn't rly care about fashion!!! lots of athletic wear!!! in costume he wears a lot of dnd barabarian type shit. always shirtless. wears small pieces of armor like shoulder guards and stuff just for aesthetic reasons but doesn't fucking listen to grayson when grayson's like PLEASE wear some proper armor to protect your vitals shoulder guards aren't gonna do shit!! put on a shirt at least!!! and u know those art pieces of ctechnoblade with the pig skull over his face??? gus wears a skull as his mask!! not sure what kind of skull yet. idk. boar maybe so he's got tusks. sick as hell

points at alphonz. white boy. whitest of white boys you have ever seen. before his trigger event he was like. blond prettyboy. good little catholic boy <3 button ups and khakis and nice shoes. and then he went thru The Horrors!! he let his hair grow out after joining the greats but he doesn't really like. maintain it well. min often brushes it for him bc shes the only one who can get close to him in his super bright super heated breaker state. that's not even important 2 his appearance but its important 2 me that you know that. ANYWAY he puts on some muscle after joining the greats and doing physical training with gus!! also doesn't really care about what he wears anymore so it's a lot of like. wearing whatever someone else has left lying around. strider's graphic tees and gus' huge sweaters and grayson's button ups. likes wrapping himself up in ram's poncho and sleeping on the couch. would wear min's cardigans if they weren't too small to fit him but he does wear her jewelry sometimes. he doesn't really. have much of his own. and doesn't really want to get things of his own because it could all be wiped away in a second if another endbringer attacks. yk. GOD IM SORRY IM RAMBLING JESUS his costume is full paladin armor. elaborate as shit with like a cloak and stuff. grayson had a lot of fun making it for him it was like an art project <3 in his breaker state his entire body looks like it's made of light. glowing like a christmas tree!! and ofc yk he's got wings made of light in his breaker state. that simurgh shit stuck w him!!!

ANYWAY. yeah. tbh they all share clothes a lot. gus can't rly borrow anyone else's clothes bc he's the biggest and this saddens him but to rectify this sometimes the others will purposely buy very oversized stuff to wear as pyjamas so he can steal it and wear it. min can and will steal everyone's shit because she's the smallest. she's got a hoard of sweaters and shirts in her room and she only gives them back when she wants to steal something else. they're family your honour