#the plush is so dirty because its too small to cuddle. so shes on my display shelf

[lycankeyy]

ACTUALLY piggybacking off that ask I guess I've never explained WHY Somnia is so important to me. So I guess there's not a better time than now to explain the backstory of how Hypno is my secret #1 favorite Pokémon that I don't talk about

Amazingly this story starts of when I was like. A really little kid. First learning how to read. I had this book called The Dream Eater where a little kid helps a town plagued by nightmares after saving a baku, a mythical Japanese creature that eats nightmares. It was one of my favorites growing up.

When I got into Pokémon (like really into Pokémon, I've been interested since I was 4 but I only started having my life revolve around it when I was 11 or so), I realized that Drowzee was based on the same legend, so naturally I grew to like them a lot. The thing was that I was also starting to get invested in Pokémon Creepypastas around that time, so it was impossible to ignore its evolution's... reputation. Not to mention how comfortable some people were making jokes about said reputation in reference to me liking them. When I was a child.

I really hated that this seemed to be all people could talk about when it came to this cute little fictional animal. In a weird way, it reminded me of how people act like sharks or snakes are evil (both of which I was also an avid defender of when I was younger lmao). In my frustration, I wrote a now-lost "parody" Hypno's Lullaby where a Hypno was abandoned after evolving even though she was the Specialest Most Nicest Pokémon in the World. The Hypno in this story was named Somnia. While the original version of the story is gone and I haven't gone through the trouble of finding my old art of her, I did redesign her in early 2023:

Around the point of her redesign, as well as me deciding I wouldn't rewrite the story on account of it being more or less hate art for another story lmao, I decided that if I ever found a shiny female Drowzee or Hypno, I would take extra good care of her and have her be Somnia's "good ending". Lo and behold, a few months later, I found one during Safari Week. As I'm friends with a couple people who do Ribbon Masters, I decided I would do the same for her. And now, instead of a haggard, tragic Poképasta OC, this is Somnia's official final design:

The world may be against Hypno, but I am it's strongest soldier. We have been bonded since my childhood and I refuse to let people continue to tarnish its name with their gross and cruel idea of jokes. Hypno is a cute Pokémon and I'm tired of pretending it's not

Now I just need them to add Hypno to Pokémon Sleep so we can come full circle /j

[therenlover]

Heartsick (A James Patrick March/Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: When you fall ill, James is given a forceful awakening about how he’s been neglecting your needs and what he must do to prevent harm from befalling you again

Tags: Fluff, Sickfic, Cuddling, Marriage Proposal

Rating: 16+

Warnings: Language, Potentially Triggering Mentions of the Reader Being Ill for a Long Time/Almost Dying of an Unnamed Illness, Planning Your Own Death

Word Count: 3700~

This was crossposted to my AO3 under the same title!

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

James Patrick March considered himself a fairly patient man. He had to be, in his line of work. Some things didn’t deserve his patience, like lazy workers or angry hotel guests, but when it came to things that did matter, he was willing to go to extremes. Murder, for example, deserved his patience. Once upon a time, the Countess did too. Yes, patience was a rare virtue Mr. March had possessed all his life.

When it came to you, though, he found his patience running short.

You had been a revelation all your own when you first walked through the doors of the Hotel Cortez with not even a suitcase to your name, radiating purity with every shallow breath. James had been excited to find you in some dark corner of the hotel and rip the life from your body. That is until you found his little nook at the Blue Parrot Lounge and seduced him with your charming personality and sweet smile. From that moment on the Countess didn’t matter anymore. The whole world was just him, you, and all of the deliciously naughty ways he wanted to debauch you.

James had insisted on moving you into your own suite on the seventh floor that very night, just a few short hallways away from his own, and given every luxury he could offer. He was nothing if not a gentleman. It just wouldn’t be right to move the one he intended to court directly into his bedroom, especially while he was still married to his previous wide. Despite the distance, things between the two of you went swimmingly. Even the murder, which James initially worried could drive you apart, was now a delightful shared activity when you chose to grace him with your presence during a kill.

That’s where the problems started.

Mr. March was a man stuck in his own time. That’s why, after 5 splendid years with you at his side, you still weren’t moved into room 78. This also meant your suite was a place he wouldn’t enter unless he was invited. Sure, you had a healthy sex life, but the Countess still had the March family engagement ring tucked away somewhere. He wouldn’t move you into his quarters or impose himself on yours until the two of you were at the very least engaged. The plans for his and the Countess’ divorce were moving, albeit slowly, when you stopped opening the door for James.

The first day he thought perhaps you were simply elsewhere, but after a week of nothing, he began to get angry. It was one thing to deny him your company, but to ignore him while he made a fool of himself banging on your door? That was a punishable offense in the March family playbook. So, he decided if you wanted to play hard to get, he would too. In his mind, James could practically envision you rushing back into his arms once you got over whatever was souring your mood. It wouldn’t be long until the whole nasty affair was behind the both of you once and for all, right?

Wrong.

A month since he last dined with you, James sat at his table in the Blue Parrot lounge alone nursing the remains of his 4th glass of scotch.

Liz was slow to walk out from her place behind the bar. “You want another?” she asked, holding out a crystal decanter, “or should I fish out the absinthe fountain a little early this year,”

“No, no I do believe I’ve had quite enough. Besides, it’s not as if I can actually get drunk anymore,” he huffed. Whether it was the drinks or his growing rage, Mr. March found his collar feeling a bit tighter. He reached up to pull at his cravat but paused when thinking about the ghastly wound it hid. In the end, he let his hand return to its place on his glass.

“Suit yourself,” Liz quickly returned the decanter to its place and began polishing glasses.

Somewhere in the distance, Iris picked up a phone and began to take an order for room service. James had an epiphany.

“Liz!” he shouted, getting her attention, “has Y/N been ordering much room service lately?”

Liz shrugged. “Only once a day for the past month. Why do you ask?”

“I find myself in a bit of a predicament. You see, Y/N began ignoring me about a month ago. I’ve been giving her a taste of her own medicine for quite some time now, and yet she has made no attempts to seek me out. Do you think, perhaps, there could be something wrong?”

The energy in the room began to still.

“Wait, Y/N hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

The dirty glasses were abandoned as Liz let out a humorless laugh.

“Damn you, woman!” James rose with a shout, slamming his glass down on the table, “what is she hiding!?”

“She’s sick,”

James’ heart would have stopped if it were still beating. He sat down again, bewildered. “What?”

“She’s sick. Fever, puking, tremors; the whole shebang,” As she spoke, Liz came back to the table and sat down on the plush booth across from him.

“But it’s been a month! Influenza shouldn’t last that long…”

“Well, it’s definitely not the flu, I can tell you that. Last time I brought down her dinner she nearly choked on her toast. She was so weak that I had to sit there feeding her soup because she couldn’t lift up the spoon long enough to feed herself,”

It was as if James’ whole world had come collapsing down on him all at once. Mortified, he let his head drop into his hands. “Why didn’t she inform me? Am I that pathetic a lover that she would rather suffer in silence than tell me she was ill?”

“Well, to her credit, you don’t exactly look like the most comforting type. When did she move in again?”

“Almost five years ago, it’ll be the anniversary of her first entering the Cortez on the 20th,”

“And how many times in the past five years have you, I don’t know, cuddled with Y/N,”

“You insolent-”

Liz lifted her arms, offering up a white flag. “I’m just asking a question,”

James opened his mouth to offer up a rebuttal but found he had no way to defend himself.

It was true that his relationship with Y/N tended to fluctuate between chaste and lecherous at the drop of a hat. Once they had made love, it was the only habit for him to leave her in bed and return to whatever was keeping him busy at the moment. Post-coital intimacy was simply something he had never experienced or needed. Unfortunately, seeing that the only time he spent with Y/N outside of their trysts were formal meetings or dinners, there had been no time for gentility or softness between just the two of them. If ghosts could blanch, he would have.

Noticing his sudden shift in mood, Liz rose, backing off. “Now, usually I like to stay out of your business, but because your little relationship makes Y/N happy I’ll give you some advice. Go down to the kitchen, have Ms. Evers heat some broth, and give Y/N her dinner personally, maybe even give her some extra attention as a little treat. That should fix the bulk of your issues. Got it?”

He was never one to take orders, but surprisingly James nodded. He stood quickly, smoothing his suit. “Thank you for your advice, Ms. Taylor, but I must depart. My paramour needs me,”

She nodded. “Any time,” James began to hurry down the stairs, but suddenly Liz shouted. “Wait a second,”

James paused. “Yes?”

“Only the living get sick, Mr. March. Maybe, after five years, it’s time for Y/N to extend her stay at the Cortez... permanently. Just something to think about,”

He gave her a sharp nod before disappearing down the stairs to the kitchen. 15 minutes later he was waiting outside your door with a rolling cart in hard. He had already been stalling there for 5 minutes when he finally, with a deep, steadying breath, unlocked the door.

The room was dark and silent, almost like a tomb.

Your voice rang out like a bell as James pushed the cart forward. “Iris?” you called weakly, “is that you?”

“No, darling,” he responded, closing the door behind him. Slowly, he bent down at turned on a small lamp. “You won’t need Iris to bring you your dinner any longer,”

“James,” You whispered, half reverent and half shocked.

He was far too taken aback by the severity of your condition to form an immediate response.

You were curled up in bed, folded in on yourself as you wheezed for breath. As Liz had mentioned your body was weak and wracked with near-constant tremors while you tried your best to prop yourself up on the headboard. James had to abandon the cart with your dinner on it in favor of rushing over and helping you sit up. As he took in your gaunt face, his heart broke.

Your soft voice snapped him from his thoughts.

“Am I dead?”

James shook his head. “No my love, not yet,”

Tears began to spill from your eyes. “I thought you’d left me, James. I thought I was going to have to rot in this awful, dark room for eternity, that maybe ‘cause I died while I was sick my ghost was too damn weak to get up,” As you spoke, you tried to grip the back of his suit, but found you were far too weak to actually hold the fabric. Your inability to even do the simplest of tasks only made you cry harder.

Mr. March was quick to pull out his handkerchief and wipe your eyes. “Oh, my dearest, that couldn’t be farther from the truth, but none of that matters now. I cannot apologize enough for my abhorrent behavior as of late,”

“Will you stay?” your words were laced with desperation, “just for a little bit?”

“Of course, my dearest. I think you’ll find it very difficult to get rid of me from now on. Besides, I couldn’t leave my beloved paramour without doing what it is that I set out to do,”

“Which is?”

James stood and quickly returned with the room service cart. As he removed the silver tray-topper, you found he had brought you a bowl of soup, a small plate of crackers, and a tall glass of ice water.

“I intend to make sure you are well-fed and taken care of,”

“James, you don’t-” you tried to argue, but he cut you off.

“Nonsense! There is, unfortunately, no way to sugar coat this, but I will try my best,” he whispered as he sat on the edge of the bed beside you, “I have neglected you, darling, not just for the past month when I found my pride and ego keeping me away from you, but also for the past five years. I ignored your needs out of a false sense of propriety by bending to rules that are long dead and considered inconsequential. For that, I fear I may never forgive myself. Things will be different from now on, though. I hope to win back your heart properly now that I have realized the severity of my mistakes. Would you…” he paused, gulping, “would you be willing to humor me?”

You offered him a soft smile. “Oh, my beloved Mr. March, there’s no need. My heart has always been yours,”

Your words soothed him, and he offered you one of his debonair grins, the kind where his little mustache scrunched before his lips parted that never failed to sweep you off your feet.

“Now where were we!” he exclaimed.

“Dinner,” you responded.

“Ah, yes! Soup!” He was quick to get a spoonful of the warm broth and bring it to your lips. “You needn’t worry, my sweetling, I watched Ms. Evers prepare this herself. Nothing but the best for you,”

It was easy to accept the spoon into your mouth. Something inside of you knew that James would be taking care of you from now on.

The rest of dinner passed in relative silence, but you didn’t mind, far too tired to take part in any meaningful conversation. Instead, you simply enjoyed the attention. James had never been shy about his affection, but that affection always tended to come in the form of gifts or sex instead of close, intimate touch. It hadn’t bothered you enough to tell him. You always just assumed he didn’t enjoy that kind of love. Now that you’d had a taste, though, of his gentle yet constant affection, you knew you could never get enough.

Too soon the bowl was empty.

James stood, returning to the door with the cart as you relaxed and rolled onto your side. “When will you be back?”

He chuckled, opening the door. “Did you think you could be rid of me so soon, darling?” The cart was quickly pushed out into the hallway as James turned back towards you.

Your face flushed. “I just assumed…”

“Assumptions, assumptions,” he tutted, “It hurts that you have such little faith in me, but I admit I haven’t given you much reason to. As I said, things will be different now,” James perched himself on the edge of the bed with a smile as he untied his shoes and slipped them off.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking off my shoes, darling, so I can join you in bed,”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had been imagining the first time James would actually stay in your bed to cuddle since the beginning of your relationship, but it had been years since you had given any thought to that silly fantasy. Could it really be happening?

Apparently, your surprise was evident on your face because Mr. March paused once both his shoes were settled neatly on the floor. “Is something wrong, my dearest?”

“Nothing, darling, nothing at all,” you were quick to explain, “we’ve just never done this before,”

James smirked like a predator who had just found his prey. “Such an innocent gesture from such a naughty little minx. I don’t recall you being so… flustered the night we met when I took you up to my suite and-”

“James!”

“Alright! Alright, my love, no more vulgarity from me until you’re fully healed and back on your feet. Well, hypothetically on your feet,” he emphasized his words with a dirty wink. Then he crawled into bed beside you as if he belonged there, scootching over until he was resting pressed against your side. You slotted into place, with your face resting in his neck and your leg thrown haphazardly across his hips as if you were made to fit his body. Holding James was like coming home.

You let out a soft, pleased sound at just how good it felt to be held.

James took this as positive feedback. As he settled in, he began running his fingers through your bedhead, combing through the loosest of the knots. Sensing something strange, he paused to put his hand on your forehead. It was uncomfortably hot. “You’re still feverish. Do you need anything? A cold compress? A wet washcloth? Some water?”

It was funny to hear him fussing over you, but it also warmed the deepest parts of your heart.

You made a negative huff against his neck. “No! You’d better not move. Your skin feels too good. It’s nice… cold. The only thing I could possibly want right now is for you to dim the lights and take your damn shirt off so you can cool more of me off,”

“I would, darling, believe me, but there’s just the small issue of the wound on my neck,”

“James,” you glared up at him, “I have literally ripped a dying man’s dick off in front of you. We have dinner with Jeffery Dahmer on your birthday every year, where I have to eat my salad as he zombifies whatever poor sap wandered into Sally’s clutches across the table. Hell, just a few months ago we fucked in that bathtub filled with some businessman’s blood. Your neck is just another part of you, James, it doesn’t bother me. Shirt. Off.”

“Have I ever told you that I adore when you take charge?”

You grinned as he undid his cravat and the top few buttons of his dress shirt. “Once or twice,” The thrill only lasted a moment, though, because before he finished unbuttoning his shirt he pulled away from your arms and got off the bed. A high-pitched whine escaped from your lips. “I thought you said you were staying?”

“I may be a ghost, dear heart, but my clothes can’t just disappear,” Always one for the dramatics, he shed his shirt and suit jacket to the floor with gusto. The sight of his bare torso made your heart beat faster. You had to remind yourself that you were sick and it would probably kill you to go for even a gentle round with Mr. March. Ah, but what a way to die…

James dimmed the lamp before returning, undoing his pants, and stripping down to his boxers. “Is this better for you darling?”

You nodded and reached your trembling arms out to your lover. “Much. Now come back to bed. You have five years’ worth of cuddling to make up for Mr. March, and I don’t intend on letting you wheedle your way out of even a second of it,”

He gave you a gentle smile as he found his way beneath the covers again. “I wouldn’t dream of it,”

Your face quickly found its way back into the crook of James’ neck. It was inhumanly cool, easing the constant burn of your fever and soothing your sore skin. The slit across his throat truly didn’t bother you. As you said, it was just another part of him for you to love, nothing more than a cosmetic imperfection.

Nuzzling closer, you took a deep inhale of his intoxicating scent. Perhaps it was the cologne he wore at the time of his death or even just what he naturally smelled like, but his pulse point radiated notes of sage and bergamot. God, how you loved him.

The pair of you were quiet for a moment with only the sound of your ragged breathing breaking through the air, but something urged you to speak your mind.

“You know, James, when you walked into my room tonight I assumed you were here to kill me,”

He chuckled. “I can’t say I didn’t think about it, my pearl,”

“Of course you did…” you went silent for a moment, “I wouldn’t have minded. This sickness is hell. I’m wasting away by the day and the pain never stops. I don’t mind dying, not when it means I get to spend the rest of time here in the hotel with you, but I don’t want to go out like somebody normal. My death needs to be special… I want to be the crowning glory of your murders, the most fantastic piece of art you’ve ever created,”

Pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your hair, James sighed. “Perhaps it’s selfish of me, but the moment I thought of you, wasting away in the darkness and succumbing to some common germ, I knew I couldn’t kill you. Not yet. I refuse to have my bride accompany me through eternity bearing a constant reminder of my failure,”

Your breath hitched. “Bride?”

Slowly, his hand made its way to your throat. There was no threat in it, he wasn’t using even an ounce of pressure. It was more of a gentle reminder of his presence; a physical conduit of his passion.

“Yes, bride. I don’t mind if you can only become Mrs. March posthumously, though I would prefer to wed you alive and enjoy your last moments of warmth in the throes of carnal delight on our wedding bed, it all depends on where your illness takes you next. Until then I will be glued to your side. No more harm will come to you. I shall nurse you back to health with my own hand so that you glow with life long after your death. Yes, Y/N, your death will come, but not until I have done my best to atone for my mistakes in your life,”

“Was that a proposal?” You gazed up at James with wide, misty eyes.

He huffed out a laugh. “I suppose it was, and a poor one at that! To think I stalled for years in the hopes of finding the perfect moment to present you with my mother’s ring only to pop the question in bed with no ring in sight. I do hope you’ll say yes. I’d be rather crushed if you rejected me after all this time,”

You nodded, small tears escaping as you pressed your face into his soft skin. “Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot. I would’ve married you if you were the poorest man in the world and proposed with a ring-pop,”

“Then it’s settled. You shall be my wife as soon as you are well enough for me to fuck you again! I quite hate that Will Drake, but I believe he’s our best, quickest option if we wish to get you a dress commissioned. I have a few ideas drawn up already waiting in my office… perhaps I should call Ms. Evers and have her take them to him,”

“Shhhh,” you smiled into his neck, pressing a kiss to his collarbone, “we can figure out the details later. For right now, though, your fiancée is sick and she needs some TLC. What are you gonna do about it, Mr. March,”

He growled. “Well, I suppose ravishing you is off the table. Hmmm... what to do to my darling girl to make her feel better?” With a gentle nudge, he tilted your head up and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips.

“That’s a start,”

-------

a/n: I hope you liked it! I’m really leaning towards writing a second part of this where the reader actually dies, so let me know if you’re interested. Also, my requests are open if you want to see any of Evan’s other characters! 

Please don’t post my work to other sites, thank you <3

[sideblogformindtrash]

SUMMER OF WHUMP - DAY 4 - ABANDONED

Mind the huge cw. Is mostly just discussing it, but still.

CW: Insinuated no-con; past-abuse; relieving past trauma; abandonment; very low self esteem; humiliation; accidental triggering; bait dog; whipping; starvation; shoved in luggage bag; bitten by mice; gross food; claustrophobia; burns; no-con drugging; no-con touching; mentioned amputation; pet whump; multiple whumpers; human trafficking; muzzle; starvation; neglect; manhandling; cruel/intimate/neglectful whumpers;

“H-hello and welcome to BB’s and Pastel’s show!” ...Pastel turned the octopus plush around as BB turned the camera on. It went from a pink, smiley octopus, to it’s frowning gray insides. Pastel pulled the blankets over his head, leaving only his eyes out “...I’ll be your host, BB, and this is my assistant, Mr.Tonsils!”

BB lifts Mr.Tonsils in front of the camera, waiving his little furry paws so he can say hello to their audience. They pick up the camera, and take it to the bed with Pastel, capturing his pretty pink-ish eyes. 

“C-come on Pastel! Say hi!”

Pastel shifts slightly under the blanket.

“I’m… Not a fan of cameras, BB'' his voice is just a whisper, as he twists the blanket. BB thinks he is kneeling “...I’ll just… be your audience today, okay?”

“O-oH! Sorry!” BB stepped away. That was right. Pastel didn’t have good memories about that. BB pointed it away, making sure only they and Mr.Tonsils were on frame. Pastel seemed to relax, even sitting back and lowering his blanket cocoon “...So, due to technical issues, Pastel won’t be joining us tonight. But that 's okay. BB and Mr.Tonsils are here to entertain you!”

BB smiled, making sure to show the missing little teeth. Just like Blue. Just like Blue… before, at least. 

“...Well, for tonight’s show me and Mr.Tonsils prepared a top 15 review!” BB wasn’t sure if it really classified as such. But it sure sounded nice “BB will be going over all of our old homes!”

They noticed as Pastel frowned, suddenly changing their expression, way more alert. BB only felt more excited. If Pastel was paying attention, it clearly meant the topic of the video was interesting! Audiences would love it! Even… Even if this was never going to be aired. BB could picture the audiences!

...With a deep breath, they braced themselves and started. They had prepared for this. They could do it.

“...BB’s begun it’s life like us all, in b-between white walls and tiled floors of the training grounds. They were worthless and ugly and dumb, BB’s smile never charmed anyone! It took a long time in the store before BB got home. It was and old lady that said BB was so ugly that it hurt, and dumb as a door, but worked well enough to, to scrub her floor” BB smiled, remembering the cozy attic, where they made their first friends, among piles of boxes that compiled their first owner’s life. Long nights they spent alone there, digging through piles of pictures, trying to piece together what a human life was like. Nonsense, it was, because it just filled BB’s head with a lot of silly thoughts.  They lifted Mr.Tonsils for the camera “...BB worked the day and spent the night locked away. In the house’s attic, BB made their first friends. They were Mr.Tonsils crowd, a family of mice, and BB befriended them all, even if they’d bite BB’s feet while it was trying to sleep! BB loved the house, their first owner, and e-every single mouse!”

BB hugged Mr.Tonsil, swinging him around. Pastel was biting his lip, pulling a thread out of the blanket. Good! He was enjoying the story! And BB felt like they were doing good, too. Better than they did at any of their homes.

“...First owner got tired of BB because the stupid Pet let her cat flee! All BB wanted to do was help and clean, but the cat saw their chance and ran away. First owner took BB to a store with a mean looking clerk. They agreed BB was ‘So ugly it fucking hurt’, hoping BB would only stay a few days and them someone would want them” BB rubbed their hand together. That didn’t count as an owner, did it? It was only temporary, in nature. Not that owners lasted very long “BB was at the store for almost a full month, during which they got to eat, sleep and there was no work. BB wanted to make friends with other pets in cages, but they never stayed for long, after all - good pets get good homes!”

...BB was still upset about the store. All of those Pets had looked so nice, so much better than they are… And they never tried to talk to BB. They were all scared they’d be beaten down if they tried, but never were. BB was the only worthless one, that got the punishments… for everyone!

“...BB was bought by creepy looking guy who stuffed BB inside a cage and on a plane and was flown away” BB gestured with their hand, copying the movements of a plane. They had to be on the chair, so it would look nice on video, but otherwise, they would have liked to run around with their arms opened “...Creepy man named BB Bait. They were a teaser for a larger, angrier Pet named Spike, who had on BB a nice punching bag who couldn’t put up a fight. They were nice to BB and even a friend, but scary and cruel when the Master decided they needed to beat them. So BB was Spike’s chew toy, but when they were nice… BB was always filled with joy!”

...They closed their eyes for a second. Those two lives were merged together. One of them had been so short, they could barely remember the second dog.

“...After Spike got tired, BB was sold again, to be another dog's punchbag. And he was the third friend BB had! He refused to hurt BB, would even cuddle them to sleep, and then I was severly punished… For making the Master's dog weak. It was the first time BB tasted a whip, and with dark bruises on its face, BB was sold again”

...They stood in that second store for a week. With no food, and no sleep. They were dirty, and cheap, not worthy of caring for.

“The next Master had BB as furniture for his house. All he did was snap his fingers and that was BB’s call. It would crawl and hold things very still and keep his glass fill, he would rest his feet over BB. If it got boring the cane was always on hand, he could crack in on BB’s back and get it all shades of purple and black. BB didn’t sleep there much at all, it had to stand still behind his bed, all night long holding a water jar upon a tray, in a perfect 90° degree, or there was always hell to pay” BB touched their arm, absentmindedly, a small scar on their elbow where bone had poke through “But BB was ugly furniture, bad and broke away, when Master tried to sit over its back one sad summer day. BB tumbled to the side, knocking Master to the floor. BB got a broken arm and was kicked out of the door!”

“...The next Master that took me in was cruel and harsh, with unusual punishments that left some scars: fingers pulled back until they snapped, weights to BB’s feet, heavy chains and painful strains and the worst - the oven’s flame” BB tilted their head. That Master, too, had scars. They didn’t know how she had gotten them, it was not it’s place to ask. They… They were happy to leave that one “...BB was then lost in a card game, and doesn’t remember much at all. Pills made BB sweet and kind and small. What BB doesn’t get is that they never needed pills - they would never disobey, even if put through awful, lingering pain, they’d love Master all the same.”

...Hazy. Foggy memories. Hands over them, and brushing their cheeks, and so much drool because they were never cohesive enough to form words or move. Blinking white lights, whispered little things that returned to them in dreams.

“...When BB was sober again, they found themselves in a shed, where they were always so alone. The Master was a mountain who only came at night to beat BB down. The days went by slowly, loneliness crushing down, it was dark and cold and hungry, and there were spiders all around“ BB stopped their speech for a moment. This next part was something… that still haunted them. They had done… awful, awful things. They covered Mr.Tonsils' ears. They were afraid of what he would think “...BB, on that shed, made things it would rather forget. Just like the Master forgot BB had to fed! BB might have eaten a few of Tonsil's friends, please don’t let him know, is just BB’s stomach hurt so much and it was the only thing that could stop the growl”

BB releases Mr.Tonsil’s ears, hearing a gasp from Pastel. They turn and smile, but his face is… Pale, horrified. BB shrugs. Pastel always worries faaaar too much. Next one… Made BB feel nostalgic.

“Next… Was the trucker! He liked BB a whole lot, and let BB on the bed and the passenger’s seat! He and BB traveled a lot, seeing magic and beautiful places. BB spoke on the radio, and… And… Had a name! Was called Oreos...” They messed up their rhymes. This… This wasn’t how it was supposed to go “...BB was… Was happy then. His spouse didn’t like me, and… And behind his back, gave me away”

BB’s nails sunk on their arms, as they hug themselves. They… missed those days. It was good, good nostalgia, but what followed made them sick. They had just learned how big and beautiful the world was…

“Next Master… Stuffed BB into a bag, small and stinky with heavy leather smell, with no room to move at all, so much BB’s limbs collapsed when it was finally left out. It travelled around so much, but BB never got to see outside. It was let out during the night to be with Master, and shoved back on the bag once he was satisfied” BB shook their head, as if that would send the memories away. They hated it, hated that bag so, so much. Terrible, suffocating and endlessly boring and aching. And worse… that’s when they lost their name Oreos. They had loved that life. They truly had. “It didn’t matter much, BB was soon thrown away again. Unlovable and worthless, no one could stand BB for much longer either way. BB was sold and sold, always on their way. Next Master was confusing – gave BB many orders and functions, then beat BB down for following the instructions! They likes to trick BB, make plenty of cruel jokes, BB was just a dumb dog, one they only named Mutt!”

...They smiled then. The next one was also nice. His name was Wolfgang, but he was not a wolf. Not that BB could remember.

“And BB’s following owner sold stuff door to door! Saw BB – or Mutt then – and thought they were good charms! BB helped with the sales, being all cute and sweet, and Master was happy at first, but eventually… Sold me!”

And the next Master was…

BB shivered. This one… Hurt a lot. A whole fucking lot. It had been one of the longest lasting homes they had. It had changed the way they saw and thought of themselves forever. It was where they became BB. Bootleg Blue. Fake, useless, worthless.

“…Next was Owner Alvin, who BB loved so, so, so much. He said he would always care for BB… if BB could be someone else. BB had never ever been loved, and the feeling was so gentle and sweet! BB finally understood why no one else had loved it, and what it needed to do so that it would. Blue, a pet who had videos and fame, who had scars BB didn’t have… But I wanted to gain! BB left their teeth rot, BB scarred their own face, Master got angry – Bad BB, bad…” No, no, no. They couldn’t start to lament now. Not when they had gone so far on the video, already, and trough some of the hardest part “Alvin gave BB a room with a  plain white dresser, four pairs of clothes and double of socks! BB knew them all by heart and cherished them, BB loved Alvin, loved him, loved him so, so, so much. 

But …Alvin wanted BB to be Blue, but wouldn’t tolerate it when BB got the knife and tried to make the change. BB watched the videos on repeat, hundreds, thousands of hours on end, BB could cite them by head!

But BB wasn’t Blue, and can never be. BB is unworthy, and no one could love me. BB was shoved in a car and Owner broke his promise – he decided not to keep me, he, he, h-he… He, he…”

BB closes their eyes, bites back a sob. They are almost done now, and even if they completely messed up the last part…. they can push through! They can still make a nice video… Maybe the audience will like that they can be a little emotive?

“...Shoved BB in a car, drove them to a dead end. Left them alone on the streets to fend for themselves. BB stayed there alone and scared and sad, hoping someone would come… Or that somehow, their pain would end. And then Paul and Reina appeared, finding the ugly pet on the streets. Reina said BB did look like Blue! So she wanted, she wanted BB too!” BB smiled a little. Reina was pretty. She gave me good headpats… But BB didn’t miss them a lot. Paul wasn’t so nice “Paul knew BB was worthless, but Reina still wanted BB. BB was taken to their house and for a short span of time, BB was pampered, happy and loved, an illusion that didn’t last. They figured BB was fun to hurt and start to get their way – not that BB cared, loved them all the same”

They turned around for a second, smiling at Pastel. This was something they’d truly love to talk about, for once.

“But the best part was that BB made a friend when living at their place. Pastel was his name! Pastel held BB and told me it would be okay. BB didn’t have to be Blue – they loved me either way. Pastel took punishment and tried to keep Master’s away. BB cuddled them to sleep and they loved each other! They did!” 

BB smiled at this, hugging the plush. One drop of joy, as small as it had been. One that wasn’t stripped away. But the show hadn’t ended.

“…Alas we got back to IF. IF my desired owner, the true maker of Blue, the one who could make BB worthy of love… If he had wanted to. He shoved BB in a cage and tortured Pastel instead, and it was so, so awfully cruel!” BB shook their head, lamenting “But last and not least, Master Fairyman appeared! He took BB and Pastel to live with him! And he has been so nice so far, giving BB colored books! Lovely, nice and nice! And Pastel Is with me too, BB don’t know how long it will last, but BB is so, so to be here with you!”

BB finished, looking back at Pastel and drawing a heart in the air with their fingers. Pastel… is tearing up. He jumps from the bed, not minding the camera anymore, and hugs BB. BB melts, leaning onto the hug. Soft. Kind. Loved. 

“BB…” He finally speaks, still not letting them go  “Did… Did you rehearse this?”

“Many times in BB’s head!” BB smiled. Many, many, many times, all those years… “Did it come out nice?”

“Yeah…” Pastel rested his head on BB’s shoulder, hugging them tight “I love you, you know?”

BB smiled.

“I know”

tagging: @summer-of-whump@pinkraindropsfell

[c-c-cherry]

I got it, what stuffies do the bucci gang members have?? Cause no matter WHAT they say, each of them has a comfort stuffy

Hell yeah Bucci gang comfort stuffies Bucci gang comfort stuffies (because even our boys in Passione have at least one)

Go give @jjadegreen a follow because her thoughts make up 99.9% of the head canons I post!!!

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Giorno

-Our boy’s got one medium sized plush ladybug. Narancia definitely gave it to him (he probably got it when he was sick or something just like what happened in The Unknown!)

-It was definitely the first stuffy he’d ever owned and he had no idea why they were giving it to him at first

-He has this external mindset that toys are for children but he literally loves this thing so much

-He’s too ashamed to tell anyone even though Narancia practically has a collection and he knows no one is gonna judge him for it

-It usually sits on a shelf but when Giorno has tough nights he hugs it to comfort himself and fall asleep

-It’s extremely well-kept because it’s Giorno's first stuffed animal. He adores it

-On one of his worse nights, Narancia walks in on him curled up under his blankets just—full-on crying into this poor ladybug. He skeets out of the room real quick and Giorno thought he’d completely fucked up and starts freaking out a bit only to see Nara run back in with more than an armful of stuffies and just dumps them all onto his bed

-They eat chocolate and take the best nap ever. This becomes a nice little weekly routine for the boys where the two of them can just sit and spill all their secrets and all that bro shit

-When Bruno catches wind of this via Narancia, he makes sure that they all give him a new plushie for his birthday

-Giorno acts like he could care less about it and politely thanks them, but Narancia gives Bruno all these little updates about how much Giorno loves every single one of them :’)

Bruno

-Surprisingly? Beanie baby collection

- He started collecting when he was a kid and paused the collection for the beginning of his time in Passione but started it up again about 3 years ago

-Beanie baby attic? Beanie baby attic

-When Fugo first moved in with him and just saw like—a room full of beanie babies he had no idea what to think but it's become a ritual at this point for each new member of the bucci gang to stare longingly at the vast collection when they first move in with them

- None of the beanie babies are exceptionally rare but he takes very good care of each and every one (like a good parent should)

- Although he doesn’t really have favourites, he does have a certain attachment to Smoochy the Frog because it was a gift from Leone (who begrudgingly denies that he has anything to do with the frog whenever one of them asks about it)

-What he DIDN’T know was that Polpo had a massive one. Like, a huge one because he was Polpo and of course he did

-Once he inherits all of Polpo’s shit he’s handed like, a million beanie babies and he is overjoyed

-He still keeps his own special collection separate from those ones, though. Because that shit’s special

Narancia

-Enormous plushie collection. Seriously.

-He cuddles with a different one each night like a devoted bro

-He has super tiny ones and huge ones that are bigger than him and a whole variety of them and they’re just fucking everywhere all over his room

-He can literally nap anywhere thanks to vast amount of comfiness in his room now

-They all have names which no one else can seem to remember other than Bruno.

-He always has special ones on hand specifically for lending out to the others (usually Giorno or Fugo) whenever one of them gets sad or overwhelmed

-Whenever he gets a new one he always asks everyone for name ideas (Mista is the best at coming up with names)

-Whenever one of his old animal plushies gets too old/can barely even function as a toy anymore, Giorno will turn it into an actual animal for him so it can still live on in a way :)))

-His favourite is a dirty, crusty, old plush lamb named Pecorey that he got from his mother when he was 2. When I tell you this thing is crusty, it’s CRUSTY

-But it’s very dear to his heart so it doesn’t matter ;-;

-Bruno has tried to clean her a few times but it seems like the grime will never come off. Narancia thinks the dirt gives her personality though.

Abbacchio

-Refuses to admit he has any plushies

-He has 2. One teddy bear he found at a garage sale that had Bruno’s hairstyle, so obviously he bought it.

-The second one is a tiny plushie that Narancia made by hand. Yes, the plushie also looks like Bruno. Abbacchio claimed it was ugly when narancia made it but he takes very good care of the tiny Bruno.

-Will not bring them out of his closet under any circumstances. Even when he’s sad ;(

-He helps Bruno dust off his beanie babies, even though he swears that he hates doing it

Mista

-His plushie is... can you even call it a plushie?

-It’s a teddy bear he got as a baby, but mista never took good care of it so it’s just.... a stuffingless husk. Just skin.

-Mista claims the bear is named Cattivo but the rest of Team Bucciarati usually refers to the bear as ‘it’. Abbacchio keeps trying to throw it out but he always fails.

-They always wonder why Mista still keeps it around and one night they find out that his eldest sister found him after he came out of jail and gave it to him and it's the only item that he has left that stuff connects him to his family (and also the last time he saw his sister)

-They start calling the bear Cattivo after that

-It sits on his bookshelf and he puts it next to his pillow when he gets sad

Fugo

-Has no plushies of his own, though he used to have hundreds back when he lived surrounded by wealth

-When he turned seven, his parents took away all toys that he owned and replaced them with books and school supplies, telling him that he’s fated to do well in academics and doesn’t need any distractions

-He still has it drilled into his head that he doesn’t need them or doesn’t deserve them and makes it clear to everybody that he doesn’t want any (even though he kinda does)

-He does frequently steal plushies from Narancia though

-He always returns them in the end because he just ends up feeling bad for wanting one but Narancia doesn’t mind.

-He usually takes this one huge dragon that’s big enough to hug with his entire body. While fugo will never admit it to his team, he really likes affection with those that he trusts, so having a huge plush (even if he’s just borrowing it) to hug is nice.

Trish

-Collects those tiny Japanese plushies which are like... food, drinks, etc,,but with those cute little eyes.

-She buys like, 4 of them a week.

-Her favourite changes almost daily, usually just whichever one she bought most recently :)

-Fugo and Giorno don’t really see the appeal in food with faces, but Mista and Narancia LOVE Trish’s collection

-If she orders one she ends up not liking, she gives it to Narancia for his collection (and sometimes Mista if he begs hard enough)

- Trish has an entire LED display wall in her room for her collection. Her impulse buying of these plushies knows no bounds. She tries to save up for huge ones but she ends up buying a bunch of small ones on impulse.

-Bruno did get her a few huge ones for her birthday, though!

-Whenever Abbacchio is out shopping and runs into one of them that she doesn’t have, he kind of just,,,sneakily buys it and puts it on her bed while she’s not there for her to find later

-She has no idea who keeps gifting her these blessings, but she has a feeling that its him hehehe

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

I  still have this cat stuffy in my room that Jade got me when I was 3 or 4 (but she was like 2 when she “gave” it to me so it was more like our mom bought it lmao) and I named it Kitty because I was super original. When I was 5, I lost it once and refused to sleep for days without it so my parents “found it” which really meant they went and bought me a second one and right after that WE ACTUALLY FUCKING FOUND IT LMAO

But like 6 months later my parents split and now I have one at each of their houses so it works! No Kitty is more superior than the other, I love my children equally😌😌

Listen, I know all y’all have at least ONE toy/item/memento somewhere, even if you haven’t seen it or thought about it in years. And I wanna know what it is. 

[filamero]

A Son’s Shame

Word Count: 3094

Summary: 

One of the worst feelings in the world is to disappoint the ones you hold dear. Painful, excruciating, and agonizing as long as they feel too embarrassed to even claim you as one of their own.

Shame is a burden that is borne to those who cause great destruction and realize it far too late.

(In which Dream is alone with his thoughts in prison, and he can't help but think about the women he learned to call his mothers.)

[ ao3 link!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28994955 ]

(fic below the cut!)

One of the worst feelings in the world is to disappoint the ones you hold dear. To watch their hope in you fade away until it’s gone, to be left behind in the dust as they continued on with their lives, to be cast aside when there were promises of forever. It hurts in indescribable ways, cuts deeper than the sharpest of blades, weighs heavier than the weight of the heavens that laid on Atlas’ shoulders. Painful, excruciating, and agonizing as long as they feel too embarrassed to even claim you as one of their own.

Shame is a burden that is borne to those who cause great destruction and realize it far too late.

Dream remembers what life was like alongside Puffy and Niki.

He doesn’t remember his birth parents. What their names were, what they looked like, what they did for a living, how they died—or if they even died at all, and left him behind because caring for an infant while poor proved to be far too difficult for them to manage. In his earliest memories, he was on his own, out on the streets of the marketplace and calling an old, thrown-out supply crate his home. There might’ve been people that taught him how to live as a ‘street-rat’—named lovingly so by the villagers who saw people like him as a bother instead of a cause for charity—but at the end of the day, the only person who truly cared about his own well-being was himself.

Until Puffy and Niki entered his life.

The night of the storm, when Puffy carried him home and Niki cared for him, was the first night he felt loved by someone else. He never realized just how hungry he was until Niki set a bowl of soup in front of him at the dining table, a bigger serving than what he ate for the past week combined. Or maybe even the whole month. His big, surprised green eyes met her kind, generous blue ones, taking the seat next to him and scooping up a spoonful for him. “It’s really hot,” she chuckled, making a show of blowing on it to cool it down before holding it up to his lips. “It’s good, I promise.”

Dream tentatively took a bite, heeding Niki’s warning and trying to avoid scalding his tongue. He would’ve been lying if he said that it wasn’t the most delicious thing he had ever tried up until that moment. His thoughts must’ve been obvious with the way Puffy and Niki laughed gently at him, Niki already scooping up and blowing on another spoonful for him to eat. The warmth blooming in his chest from the care slowly began to match the heat radiating off of the soup, and for the first time in his life, he felt completely safe. Comfortable, relaxed, at ease—even with the storm raging outside.

Puffy had let him sleep in her bed that night, wrapping her arm carefully around him as if she were shielding him from anything that could put him in harm’s way. The thunder boomed loudly that night, letting the world know that whatever otherworldly being ruled it was angry, its wrath coming down as the storm rampaged on. Yet he didn’t fear for himself once, simply cuddling up closer to the kind woman who he had been following around for God-knows-how-long, lulled to sleep by a gentle song that she seemed to know by heart.

Dream learned what it was like to be a son.

Puffy and Niki taught him everything that he needed to know—from English to math, history to science, and everything that they knew of in between. He grew to be sharp-witted and intelligent, his mind being his greatest weapon. Trades would come easy whenever he accompanied Puffy to the marketplace—negotiating the best deals, he found out, usually involved being charismatic and, though it felt a little like scamming, a spoonful of outsmarting the seller. Baking became a second habit, knowing his way around the kitchen well and helping Niki out whenever he could, especially on days where business boomed like during festivals or holiday nights.

But more importantly, they shaped him into what they knew. They encouraged being loving and compassionate, empathetic and sincere, reliable and trustworthy—someone who would make the world a better place rather than tarnish it any more than it already had been. “You have a very special name, you know?” Puffy said to him one day, as she settled on the soft plush of the loveseat while he sat on the floor in front of her, head tilted back to rest on her lap and look up at her. “Dream. It’s not really a common one,” she continued. “I think your parents were smart for giving you a name like that one.”

Dream tilted his head to the side, curiosity swimming in his bright, forest-colored eyes. “Why?”

Puffy snorted softly. “Look at you, already asking me questions. You’re growing up too fast, slow down,” she hummed, carefully threading her fingers through his soft, growing, dirty-blond locks with a smile. “Do you know what a dream is?”

“Those little movies that play in your head while you’re sleeping, right?” he responded, reaching up and tapping the side of his head for extra emphasis. “I never remember what mine are like.”

“Not that kind of dream! Silly duck,” Puffy grinned, a laugh falling from her lips and easing his nerves, just as they always did. “I meant the kind of dream that’s like...something you want to do. In the future.”

Dream paused for a moment, processing the information. “Like eating dinner? Is that a dream?”

“Maybe for some,” she responded, looking down at him. “But think bigger. It’s—oh! It’s like a goal. A hope. Something really, really big that you really, really want to see happen or do.”

He nodded his head slowly, though if the slight furrow in his brow said anything, it would say something about the connection it had to his name.

Puffy leaned down, looping her arms underneath his arms and hoisting him up onto her lap. She gave him a smile, one of those motherly smiles that made a certain warmth bloom in his chest and spread to the tips of his fingers and toes. “I think you’re our dream, me and Niki,” she stated softly, fixing some stray strands of hair on his face. “We’ve had plenty of dreams, you know. I wanted to sail the sea—” she gestured to herself, “—and I did that. Niki wanted to start a bakery and look at her business now. We wanted to have a happy life, and I don’t think we could ask for a better one than right now.”

Dream cracked a small smile. “Am I part of the ‘happy life’ dream?”

Puffy clicked her tongue. “You’re more.” She tugged him close into a hug, raising her free arm into the air as if painting a picture for him. “I don’t really know how to say it, but—me and Niki love you a lot. You...You’re something new every day, and I mean it.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “You’re getting sappy.”

She laughed loudly, playfully flicking his forehead. “It’s true! I think I’m getting close to my woman-thing of the month,” she joked, pinching his cheek. “But I woke up this morning, saw you helping Niki make breakfast, and��I don’t know—I realized that I want you to go far. Wait, no—I realized that I know you’ll go far. You’re gonna blow me away, you’re gonna blow Niki away, you’re gonna blow everyone you ever meet away. Your name is Dream because you’re gonna be big someday, I just know it!”

He fell silent for a few moments, glancing down at his hands. Could he really be what Puffy was saying? He knew that she and Niki would love him no matter where he ended up—but the way Puffy talked about him just then...He wanted to be that too. He wanted to be his own dream. “You really think so?” he asked, looking back up at her.

“Haven’t you been listening? I know so!” she grinned, pulling him impossibly close into a hug. “You’re gonna be great, Dream, I know you are. Just promise not to forget us, alright?”

He laughed softly, the noise muffled by the way his cheek was pressing up against her shoulder. “I won’t ever,” he reassured, wriggling out of her embrace to look her in the eye, a determined spark igniting in the sea of green.

Puffy cooed, squishing Dream’s face up once more. “That’s my duckling,” she giggled, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll be your dream,” he thought aloud, a smile on his face as he pictured the future. “I’ll be someone you can be proud of, Mom.”

“Oh, don’t say it like that,” Puffy chuckled, ruffling his hair. “I think I’ll always be proud of you.”

Dream grinned brightly, mind already made up. He was going to make her and Niki proud one day, he promised.

A tear rolls down Dream’s cheek, bringing him out of his thoughts. The obsidian wall is hard against his back, and the lava to his right emits just enough warmth to almost-mockingly caress his face. The laugh that bubbles up from his chest is bitter, rolling off of his tongue and leaving a sickeningly sour taste. Shaking hands come up to his face and wipe at his eyes, getting rid of the tears that threatened to fall. One was enough—though it felt like one was already too much. His eyes drift to the netherite rails keeping him in, reaching out and touching the warming metal.

It’s funny, how he’s surrounded by warm things, yet he still feels so cold. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest that refuses to leave, forever burned there the way the crater of L’manburg will no doubt be. The slow drip of lava is the only sound that reaches his ears, far away from daily life to hear any chatter that could be happening outside at that moment.

There’s something else though, an eerie voice in the back of his head—though he’s learned how to tune it out in the few days that he spent in this wretched prison.

It would be easy to blame his actions on the dreamon. To say that it’s influence increased in the time between when he first ‘befriended’ it to now. To say that it overtook him to do all the things he did, to commit all the crimes that he’s committed, and that he had no control over his body while it rampaged on.

But that wouldn’t be true.

Everything he did, he did on his own.

He knows that he wasn’t always like this. Back when he first claimed the land as his—and George’s and Sapnap’s—he had good intentions. When he opposed L’manburg during their first war of independence, because their whole country stemmed from a drug cartel. When he ‘advocated’ for Schlatt in the elections, because he didn’t really do anything wrong—all he did was join an election that was open to the residents of his server. When he smiled, and laughed, and played, and had friends.

Then it changed. He had ignored the dreamon’s influence at first—rarely letting it slip. But somewhere along the lines, he became in tune with it, using it to amplify his own skills: his combat, his intelligence, his charisma. It became a part of his daily life, working in tandem with it to maintain the order. He accepted it.

He wishes he didn’t.

Somewhere along the lines, in between his acceptance of the otherworldly being that he allowed to reside in his mind and body, the word ‘order’ blurred into ‘power.’ No longer did he wish to keep things in check for everyone to be happy; he wanted to be at the top and stay at the top. His days were spent building up this pillar, this pedestal that he set himself upon, raising him high above everyone else. If anyone dared get close, he loaded his crossbow and shot them down, no matter who they were.

The word ‘friends’ turned into ‘attachments’ and then ‘nuisances.’ How could he be the only one on top when there were others tethered to his ankles, stunting his growth? And when he did manage to climb higher, the bonds tying them together only brought them up with him—the distance remained the same, and he would be back at square one. The dreamon didn’t even influence the decision to spray every one of his bonds with gasoline, tossing a match to each and every one, watching them burn away into nothing but ashes. There were storm clouds beneath where he stood, no doubt raining down a mighty wrath—but it never crossed his mind to dip below, hold his hand out to everyone, and pull them up to his level where they would be safe from the storm.

Bile rises up in his throat. He had come full circle.

He thinks of when he was younger, alone on the streets, surviving on stolen goods alone.

He thinks of when he first met Puffy, showing him compassion after having just met him.

He thinks of when he first went home to Niki, already treating him as one of her own within seconds.

He thinks of how they taught him almost everything he knows, shaping him into the witty yet compassionate leader he is—or, well, was.

When did that foundation come crumbling down?

The hole in his chest seems to expand at the thought of his mothers—could he even call them his mothers anymore? He supposes they were caught in the wreckage when he destroyed all his relationships, isolating himself because he wanted to be number one.

Did they miss him?

Did he miss them?

He pauses for a moment, tilting his head back and leaning it against the obsidian walls the way he had done with Puffy’s lap all those years ago.

Yeah.

He missed them.

He doesn’t think they miss him, though.

Because if he were his own parent, in their shoes, he wouldn’t want to claim himself as his own.

He’s been anything but a good person. It was easy to deny this, to say that ‘the ends justify the means’, to act like he would go back and fix all of his mistakes in due time, back when he wasn’t locked up. When he still had people by his side (that stood by his side willingly). But now, deep within Pandora’s Box, when he had nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, it was hard to deny what he’s done. He knows that his actions were unacceptable, irredeemable, inappropriate in every way imaginable. Framing others for his misdeeds, manipulating nearly everyone (especially those who weren’t in the right state of mind), pulling and tangling the strings until they were so knotted that there was hardly anything that he didn’t instigate.

Who in their right mind would claim him as their son?

Tears well up a little in Dream’s eyes once again, and he laughs. It’s even more bitter than the one from before, acidic and disgusting all the same. It wracks through his body, shaking the tears out of his eyes.

Why was it only now that he was regretting his actions?

Puffy and Niki come to mind once more, and Dream smiles to himself tightly.

Once, a long time ago, he was told that his name was special. That it shone with his potential. That one day, when he was older, he was going to take the world by storm and blow everyone away.

He supposes he’s done that. Just not in the way the person who told him that expected.

“I’ll be your dream,” he murmured to himself, tears trickling down his face in a steady stream that mimicked the lava blocking his only exit off. The memory replays in his head, carving the crater in his heart out to be even deeper, emptier. His throat seizes up, and it suddenly becomes harder to talk. “I’ll be someone you can be proud of, Mom.”

He knows he’s not someone that Puffy nor Niki can be proud of. Maybe he was before, but he’s far from it now.

He’s a disappointment.

He isn’t sure that he could ever look his mothers in the eye ever again. His eyes would probably be glued to the floor when they visited him—or if they wanted to visit him at all. He longs to hug them, to sink into their embrace, to cry out apology after apology, to rebuild their little cottage of memories in their hearts that he had so carelessly abandoned, left to be destroyed in the storm of consequences that he didn’t even bother to consider. It’s pathetic, he knows, how quickly he was crumbling underneath the weight of his actions now that he had to face them. How he had been so blind to the hole that he had dug for himself, all because he was too caught up in soaring higher and higher into the sky—to be number one, to be at the top, to be someone that the world would acknowledge, for his own satisfaction. How he had stomped out all the hope that the others had in him, falling further and further into the darkness that he had so willingly stepped into. How he had broken promises just as easily as he destroyed relationships.

He’s facing his actions head-on, and it burns so brightly that it’s scalding his skin, and all he can do is stand there and let it scorch, in the hope that it’ll scar over later on. No one is there to hold him close, to press cool cloths against his burns, to sing him a familiar song as he drifts off to sleep. It hurts, it hurts so bad to have nothing to do but think about just how disappointing of a person—of a son, that he was.

His shoulders sag against the wall, everything—his thoughts, his memories, his behavior and its consequences—weighing down heavily on his being. He wants nothing more than to sink into the ground and ease himself from the pain, but he knows that he can’t.

For shame is a burden that is borne to those who cause great destruction and realize it far too late.

[beamingmaylyn]

eat ramen with me - jjk || part 29

(text under the pictures)

warnings : swearing, fingering, spanking (ig), oral (f receiving), dirty talk (like very poorly written, its barely there)

Jeongguk isn’t one to share his clothes, but I would have to guess I’m an exception. Here I was, sitting on his couch in one of his giant hoodies and a pair of my thigh high socks. When he picked me up at the shop and saw that I had spent the night in a dress with bare shoulders, he freaked on the spot. “You’re going to get a cold!” He said before forcing a cup of boiling tea in my hands which were covered by the long sleeves of his hoodie. If it was oversized on him I didn’t even want to know what it looked like on me. Along with the tea, he sat beside me and stuffed dumplings into my mouth.

“You’re so cute…look like a little peach.” His hands were gently squishing my dumpling-filled cheeks. After eating, he took off the blotchy makeup I didn’t manage to last night. After all, all I had was water and cotton pads, and makeup and water don’t work well together.

“I’m not sick, Gguk!” I whined pulling down his palm from my forehead. “Hmm…I don’t know. Let me check your temperature again.” I was being pulled into his lap when his lips pressed a long kiss to my less-than-warm forehead.

Conversation died down as we watched a random Netflix show while cuddling. My head was resting on his shoulder and my face buried in his neck. As soon as my lips touched his neck, his warm hand slipped under my sock and squeezed my thigh. I sucked on his ear lobe and tugged on his earrings, which is what I realized gets him going over the past couple of days.

I found myself, almost subconsciously, gripping the lower part of his shirt, but he took my hand in his and intertwined our fingers. It was the little things, like the stroking of his thumb on my hand, that raised my heartbeat.

My heart didn’t lose its intense pace when he let go of my hand to grip my jaw and bring our lips together. Almost immediately his tongue met mine.

“Mm, the dumplings were good, huh?” “You’re gross.” “Hey! I didn’t even get to try one, let me enjoy this.” Then I kissed him again.

“Can you sit differently peach? My leg is going numb.” If this boy interrupts one more time I swear. “I can sit on the floor if you’d like.” I stood up and leaned down to rest my hands on his knees. What I didn’t expect though, was rejection. “Not today, let me take care of you this time.” Both of us were now standing, and his hands gently held mine. Though the eye contact we held was intense.

Was I ready? Whatever I say next determines the outcome of the situation. I trusted him, so why was this decision so difficult? With the thoughts running through my brain my eyes dropped from his and were now looking at the floor.

“If you’re uncomfortable it’s totally fine. I mean it’s not fine because that means I’m the one that made you uncomfortable and that’s totally not cool of me as a boyfriend and as a friend. I didn’t mean to pressure you, I just thought you wanted it as much as I do because you’ve been making me feel good for the past 2 days and I finally manned up enough and I want to return the favor-“

“Gguk please, you’re rambling.” I brought my hands to his face and gently cupped his cheeks, focusing his big concerned eyes on the smile on my face. “You’ve never made me uncomfortable, of course I want it. I just…It’s really not that big of a deal but, I don’t work out and dance my ass off every day.” I tried to hint at the dumb reason, not wanting to explain myself.

“You don’t have to have a six-pack and big biceps for me to think you’re gorgeous!” He smiled brightly at me before engulfing me in a hug and swaying us around. “Keep the hoodie on and cover my head, it will be like nothing is even happening.”

Minutes later I was lying over Gguk’s lap, biting the sleeves of the hoodie and whining like a desperate bitch. He was knuckles deep with two fingers, not even moving them in and out at this point, but crooking them and pressing on my g-spot. “God, these stockings…You look so fucking good in them.” He groaned and harshly groped my thigh, giving it a gentle smack right on the exposed skin. The smack didn’t even sting, but it still made me clench around his fingers. “Dirty girl.” He commented against my head while giving it a small kiss. All my hair was moved to one side so he could kiss my ear. “Can I eat you out?”

In what world I wouldn’t let Gguk eat me out, I don’t know. So now, my head was buried between my crossed arms while my whiny moans filled the big living room. Gguk was sitting behind me spreading my cheeks and enjoying himself, with a pillow under my hips to give himself leverage. His big hands were rough on my skin, and the reactions his touches and movements provided made me feel and look like a virgin. It felt so good I was almost shaking.

“Feel good, peach?” He mumbled against me, sending electricity down my legs. “Mhmm, feels so good.” I slurred incoherently against the sleeves of his hoodie. I’ve been blabbering utter nonsense for the past 10 minutes, dirtying up the hoodie he so kindly offered with the wetness pooling in my mouth.

“Fuck.” I whined in a high tone when he slipped two fingers in knuckle deep and spread them. He stayed like that for a few seconds, just staring at my sex with admiration. If I learned one thing from this experience, it’s that Jeon Jeongguk is whipped for pussy.

“What a fuckin’ peach.” I barely caught what he said, and smiled into my elbow. It wasn’t meant for me to hear, it was just a mere observation passing through his head. The smile was smacked off my face with a light swat of his hand on my ass. Oh, so that’s the peach he was talking about.

“Come on, I’ve seen the way you smack your hyungs. I’m sure you can hit harder than that.” I taunted him with a wiggle of my hips. Gguk is a competitive guy, we been knew. Whenever I challenge his abilities, even with a mere ‘can you do this baby?’, he steps up and proves his golden status.

“Please don’t bring my hyungs into this.” He whined before landing a harsh smack on my right butt cheek. When he saw the reaction I provided, he landed a few more before softly rubbing and kissing at the red and hot skin. He was taking his sweet ass time, and being the brat I am, I whined and wiggled my hips.

“You’re an impatient girl aren’t you, hm?” His lips were now delicately kissing my folds before he slipped in his tongue. I’m not sure who taught him the shit he was pulling down there, but I couldn’t be more grateful.

A few minutes of attention to my clit brought tears to my eyes and a shakiness to my hips.  “Mm, ‘m close,” I mumbled as the tears began to slowly trickle down my face, and into the sleeves.

Much to my dismay, he stopped and delivered a smack to my ass, making me jolt.

“Sit on my lap.” I finally got a glance at him. His slightly longer-than-usual hair was messy, his pink pouty lips were the pinkest and shiniest I’d ever seen them be, and his dick was setting up camp and pitching a tent under his pants. He was also shirtless. Not sure when that happened but you’ll never catch me complaining.

My back was pressing into his hard chest, and my ass was pressing into his hard cock. What I would do to have him inside…

The gentle grip of his hand on the underside of my knee cut my flow of thoughts. My other leg was bent and resting on his thigh. His hand was slowly caressing its’ way down my body, which suddenly made me hyperaware of his harsh breathing on my neck. His lips were right against my ear, and it immediately turned me into putty. When his fingers finally grazed my clit, my head fell back on his shoulder and I looked up at his desperately.

He smiled down at me teasingly and kissed me. He took the opportunity of me being whipped for his plush lips to push two fingers inside. I clenched my stomach and gently bit down on his lip.

Soon enough he was moaning praises and words of encouragement into my ear, slipping in a few bites, licks, and kisses between the words.

“Does it feel good, peach? You like being played with like this?” He mumbled into my neck while kissing it. It was like my mouth and brain lost contact and all I could do was whine and shake.

“You’re close, huh? I’m gonna have to push you over the edge, aren’t I?” He sucked a small lilac bruise right behind my ear and I barely managed to keep my neck upright.

With the last ounce of energy I had in me, I arched my back and reached behind me to grip his hard cock. When I stroked my hand up and down his pants, he snapped his wrist hard and pushed his fingers even deeper. It was a game-changer when he added a third finger and roughly moved all three in unison. My orgasm finally hit with the grinding of the edge of his palm against my clit.

I firmly gripped his hard-working forearm with one arm, and messily intertwined the fingers of his free hand with my other hand.

“There you go peach, fuck.” He moaned into my ear when I shook against him and helped me slowly ride it out. I expected him to stop, though he was slowly but surely starting to purposely overstimulate me.

“Gguk.” I whined and moved my hips in an attempt to stop him, but he didn’t budge. Our intertwined hands were wrapped around my waist so he could pin me to him. He stopped in panic when he felt the wetness of my tears on his neck.

He slowly pulled his fingers out and looked into my eyes with a worried look in his.

“It’s too much.” I whimpered with my eyebrows furrowed. He caressed the side of my face and kissed my forehead. “But it feels so good.”

With a smirk wide on his lips, his fingers went back to work.

part 29 - i hate it here

prev || next

eat ramen with me masterlist

summary : you keep getting texts from a random number and decide not to go against the will of the universe

a/n : i hope y’all were pleased with the smut ajsjadah its not so great🥴,, and im sorry for the wait! i’ll try to hurry with the next part (shoutout to @inangellocumlibello for helping me with this, shes a real one🥳)

taglist - if you want to be added send me an ask or a message, this way you'll be notified when i post new parts

@yoongisabby   @lovelymultiwrites    @ambersaesthetics    @actuallyada  @sterynlis  @illwritetomorrow  @snortyport  @nerdycookiemonster-1222  @squeakermarie  @gguksfilter  @betysotelo18 

@charlotte-1206  @serahtonin  @momma-said-that-it-was-oke   @lyndseygoregasmxo  @jinhitwhore  @lecosepiurare  @angelic-kiss3s 

@seungcheoluwu  @sarangayyyyy @moonlight-silent  @kb-bangtanenthusiast  @mysingularitybts  @ganderson10  @fuckjjk97

@jiholeen  @soggy-taters   @cafeyeoli  @jalyssa-wyssaa @gittydakitty   @alterlovess  @itsrapmonstanotdancemonsta  @krystle1990  @aitne-luna  @icy-booh  @euphxriajoon  @pityandchiil  @kookiesbreaky  @mayafravoli  @gracefulevijlsoul  @littlewolfieposts  @veronawrites  @awkwardgreeting  @kelitt  @irenebutfancier  @intohobiverse 

[bbbarneswrites]

Small Places

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Don’t they say that after a storm, there’s always calm?  Genre: Romance/fluff Rating: T Warnings: Swearings, mental health issues 3,809 words

Notes: Here we are with a new piece after all these months! The songs we got for this one are The Moon by The Swell Season and Cellar Door by Angus & Julia Stone. Hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback always welcomed! <3

The small studio stays right in the heart of Brooklyn, surrounded by themed bars, bright restaurants and a crowd of millennials that makes him cringe every once in a while.

It’s a shoebox.

A bed that fights for space with a small couch, a kitchen that can be sized by two of his steps alone and a cramped bathroom with a bathtub that he honestly can’t fit in. But be as it may, Bucky has never been in a more comfortable, warm and welcoming atmosphere.

A bed with polka-dotted, fluffy blankets, a couch with bright colored and quirky pillows, a kitchen with a line of gifted succulents by the counter and a bathroom with filled shelves of sweet smelling products.

Pictures on the walls, sketches and love notes hung to the fridge, shared clothes thrown over in little corners.

Everything is so lively and familiar—it feels like home outside of his home.

The four walls of your little studio have been witnesses to so much. Whispered love confessions, frantic murmurs of comfort, quiet pleads in between moans, anger filled little lies, and the list can only go on.

There’s a Friday night.

Discarded containers of take-out on the coffee table, and maybe a carton of Ben & Jerry’s forgotten around after a fight over the last spoon. Netflix midway through a random episode of Stranger Things because yeah, Bucky has a growing crush on Winona Ryder. Peace fills up every fiber of his being, and looking down to the sight before him, things can’t feel more right.

“Your heart is beating so fast.” You mumble quietly, chin leaning up to rest upon his chest. A flesh arm tightens around your frame, and a lazy grin grows on your lips. “Are you nervous being around me, Bucky?”

The lightness laced to your voice is familiar, a tone he’s heard many, many times within the warmth of a shared trustfulness.

A smile curls up his lips. Even then, the sound never fails to make Bucky content and happy.

“I’m always nervous around you, baby.” He jokes, a gentle kiss pressing to your temple that earns a happy hum from your chest. “You’re way out of my league.”

Bucky’s smile widens with a muffled whine of protest, and his vibranium hand reaches out to push a strand of hair away from your eyes when you shift on the way-too-small couch. With your face still buried to his chest, there’s no space left between both of you. The fluffy hem of your socks tickles his legs and the skin of his tummy rise up in shivers under your fingers.

Meanwhile, Erica Sinclair goes off about capitalism on TV.

Despite the length of your relationship, a small part of him still gets surprised over moments like this.

Soft fingertips reaching out to his marred left shoulder, a light touch to trace the harsh and old outlines of his scars, by now the only ugly looking, physical reminder of a time of his life that’s best left behind to be buried and forgotten.

With a little giggle escaping from your mouth, Bucky halts his thoughts to focus.

“You’re cute.” You wink playfully, biting your lower lip to hold back another laugh. His cheeks instantly flush a little under the fairy lights of your walls. “This little scar here looks like a stick figure.”

The touch feels nice as your index finger brush over a particular spot near his collarbone. Though he’s observed every single detail of the marks in several occasions, more than enough to make him very familiar with its designs, he immediately takes your hand with his own. Wrapped fingers together, you guide him through his little stick figure.

It’s a little joke, he knows, but Bucky still grins as you make him trace the funny lines of a quirky drawing to his own skin.

And when you tip his chin with your thumb a moment later? Warmth radiating from your body pressed up to his? And lips sweetly meeting his own?

That’s his peace.

There’s a Wednesday morning.

After arriving from a mission, sore muscles and half-healed scabs, Bucky just couldn’t see himself going back to the apartment he shares with Sam—especially after a two week long mission, taking in everything that his partner had to say. And trust, Sam Wilson has a lot of things to say.

To top of it all, he’s missed you.

Missed your laugh and your kisses and your touch. The way you tuck his hair behind his ears, the plush of your lips to the base of his neck. Your cuddles and your warmth and your care. Two long, painstaking slow weeks.

The place is warm as he steps in, slits of moonlight escaping through your blinds. Coming home to you feels right, takes off an edge from his heart, as if everything is right in the world again.

Only silence as Bucky slips under the blankets.

Bleary eyes barely taking him in.

And a happy but tired hum before a familiar frame cuddles to his side.

Sleep welcomes him right in.

Any person that lives in New York can easily list a series of upsides and downsides to coexisting in a studio apartment this small. An upsidde is that you can see and hear everything and the downside is that you can see and hear everything.

White numbers cover up your face on the screen of his phone as it marks 3:36AM. The shuffling and clashing in the kitchen isn’t unusual except for the late hour. Barely four hours of sleep later, and Bucky’s watching a pajama-clad you pour chocolate into a bowl through squinted, heavy eyes.

“Think I need to put you on a sleep schedule.” He murmurs. The sound is low but enough to make you jump on the spot, turn around with a scowl that makes him chuckle. “Come back to bed.”

The tense features of your face melt into a mix of worry and dejection.

“I can’t!” You cry, hands coming up to cover your face in frustration, words all muffled. “I promised I’d bake brownies for the book fair but I was so tired and I meant to take a nap while waiting for you but I just slept and now I woke you up!”

It takes two steps until Bucky has your frame into his arms, a perfect fit that rises butterflies in your stomach after the two, very long weeks. With vibranium fingertips brushing along your cheeks in a gentle caress, every negative feeling slips away.

“You were waiting for me?” Bucky pulls back a little, enough to see you pout through a nod. A loving smile grows easily to his mouth right before a gentle kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

Brownies are made in record time with two sets of wandering hands.

And are successfully sold out by two excellent sellers.

There’s a Monday afternoon.

Clouds are looming over the city. Cold, bitter winds singing loud enough outside. The first few signs of fall can be spotted by a quick walk in the neighborhood by now, trees turning into different shades of brown as pumpkin orange starts to pop everywhere.

Back to a few hours earlier, Bucky begrudgingly kisses you goodbye at the cramped doorstep, fixing your heart-shaped earmuffs with a wish of a good day at school. No paperwork or assignments under his name for a change, the place shelters him from any unexpected Avenger responsability, and he’s more than glad to wait home for you.

Separated dirty clothes, clean dishes back to the cupboards, made-up bed with fresh sheets, organized books and trinkets and papers for the small study table.

Homecoming isn’t as comforting.

Between quiet sniffles, red-rimmed teary eyes and angry huffs of frustration with the addition of a warm tea cup, Bucky cuddles you up to his lap until peace has settled again.

“You gonna tell me who I’m killing tonight?” He jokes half-heartedly, chest a little bit lighter as you giggle quietly, offering a slap to his arm. “Just say the word and I’ll do it.”

A single look from you and his heart swells with affection, the feelings hidden behind the simple act never failing to leave him speechless, wondering if there’s another shoe to drop.

There’s always another shoe to drop in his life.

“You don’t do that anymore, remember?” You say softly, a smart smile playing on your lips that’s followed by a tired, but now content sigh. “I’m okay, promise. Just a bad morning in school that wasn’t expected.”

Hands brought closer together and a kiss pressed to your knuckles by his lips.

Bad days take no excuse.

“Okay, doll.” Bucky frowns, eyes squinted in pretend suspicion as he smirks. “You really sure though? I can call Sam.”

“I’m sure, goober.” You roll your eyes through a laugh, instantly leaning closer until his lips are brushing to your own. “It’s all better now with you.”

Seventy years of a missed life, most of which he’s spent nearly under seven feet underground, locked up like an animal and abused for selfish power. Ruthless damage to every inch of his being, every sliver of hope taken from him without permission for decades. Now, eight years after a seeming never ending storm, Bucky finds reason in all of this.

It feels good to know that she’s with him too.

And if the day ends up to both of you curled up in the back booth of the diner down the street, ordering a late night breakfast with pancakes and eggs and bacon, then it’s a good day after all.

There’s a Thursday night.

The day has been slow in the apartment given your day-off from school. Silence and a few movies on Netflix are your companions, except for the visit of your friendly neighborhood stray cat, Alpine, who climbs up to your windowsill every day without fail. Bucky is usually the one who feeds him, and mostly the one who’s unofficially adopted the kitten.

A pause here for a quick, improvised meal between homework, another pause there for a bath under glittery bath bombs.

Being away from him is normal.

His missions can last to mere hours to unexpected months. Living within the job is basically the norm, all with recruits training, team meetings and securing duties. Your classes are demanding, both physically and mentally. It never ends and never leaves you, always something to be started or done back home.

Either way, anxiousness never leaves you in a week like this.

Nearing a certain date on the calendar, Bucky’s plagued by restless nights.

It feels like a sore spot in his body, one he knows all about it but still can’t help but be upset at, poking and prodding around as a way to remember it. Despite knowing his best-friend way too well, Steve’s choice wasn’t one taken lightly back then.

The reasoning is fair and understandable but it doesn’t lessen the bitterness of a brief meeting after a six year long disappearance.

Not much can be done by now, but two years after Steve’s official death, Bucky still plays what ifs in his head. 

After gentle coaxing in between kisses in the night before and encouraging hugs and squeezes in the morning after, Bucky spends the whole day back at the compound, a scheduled therapy session set to the calendar of his phone.

When sunlight falls to a sheet of night stars, familiar but heavy steps sound like music to your  ears.

A random song playing through your laptop and slow beats welcome Bucky home.

It takes a single look at you until he’s sighing relieved, hauling your frame up to his arms in the middle of the small kitchen, where you both barely fit in during busy mornings with shoulder bumps and mumbled but playful complaints.

Sure it has been a pretty nostalgic day but nothing beats being right there.

“You smell good.” Bucky says, an almost shy mumble against your hair, his arms gently tightening around you. “Peach?”

The easy but definitely familiar guess makes you smile instantly. Heat rises on your cheeks, your chin rests on his chest as your eyes look for his own, very blue, very alive compared to a few hours back. Golden detailed fingertips brush your cheeks and a content hum escapes from your lips instantly.

“That bathbomb you gave me, remember?” You smile, voice sounding small and equally as shy until Bucky tips down, his lips meeting your own in a featherlike kiss that makes you sigh. “How are you feeling?”

Bucky smiles, crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes and then, the smooth sway starts. Finding rhythm with the slow beats still playing background, you can’t help but feel your chest lighter. In that moment, neither of you need to share words to know, he doesn’t need to tell you about his session for the feelings to sink.

Despite any doubt and above any insecurity, being right there feels just right.

It’s not his day and age. For a long time, he was nothing but a misplaced piece of the universe. Then without his best-friend, just an unknown face for the team to swallow.

Not anymore.

There was a time of misplacement and sure, he no longer has Steve on a back-up call but life has given him good things. Good people. Sam and Wanda. Love. You. And in that moment, after a long day of reflection, Bucky just feels thankful above any odd feeling.

“Feelin’ great.” He muses. It’s genuine and it makes your smile widen upon his accent slip, only cut short by Bucky’s lips briefly meeting yours again. “Thank you.”

Background music switching to an upbeat song and the shared slow, careful sway doesn’t change.

“What for?” You frown, wide eyes flicking between confusion and amusement through a quiet, huffed laugh. A beat until you look up through your eyelashes, and a sheepish shrug. “I haven’t done anything.”

Bucky bites back the reply—you’ve done everything and more, you’re everything—words for another time, other plans, a day with a better start. After all, he’s not going anywhere.

This is his place now.

And in the end of the day, that’s all it matters.

There’s a Saturday afternoon.

An array of long dresses and skirts mix-up with button-ups and printed ties on the bed, make-up and skin products all over the cabinet. The sun slowly lies down to a soft hue of orange that paints the bedroom space, and the off-beat singing coming from the bathroom makes you smile every now and then.

A coat of lipstick to the lips, mascara to the eyelashes. A well-placed hair pin to the side of your hair. Out of the bathroom Bucky gets, black suit and tie in place, not a wrinkle on sight to the white button-up shirt. The singing turns to a faint humming.

Short hair, trimmed beard. His blue eyes are alight. Positively beaming.

It’s just a few hours to go until the big event starts—Mr. and Mrs. Wilson anniversary, which they’re celebrating with one big ceremony to renew their vows with their children present. Bucky, much to Sam’s feigned dismay and Darlene Wilson’s stubborness, is now considered one of them.

In the very few opportunities you got to meet Darlene, she was nothing short of sweet to you and incredibly motherly to your boyfriend. Not much is needed to see how happy Bucky is to be participating in their day, and you can’t help but beam right back at him.

“Looking so handsome!” You grin, watching through the mirror as Bucky sits on the bed, shiny black shoes set on the floor. His lips are holding back a smirk. “I mean it, Bucky! This hair? I’m marrying you.”

At the words, Bucky looks up.

Between the Blip, his missions, your classes and whatnot, neither of you ever discussed the possibilities of a long-term future.

Have you both thought about it, though? Absolutely.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble.” Bucky sighs. Quickly settling into his shoes, a crooked smile curves up his mouth as he stands up, gentle fingers around your satin clad waist. “You’re so beautiful. I’m a lucky bastard, aren’t I?”

It feels like your brain instantly turns to mush over his words, and your tongue stumbles to find proper words to reply his sudden sweet outburst. Heat spreads through your neck and cheeks as you lean back against his chest, feeling Bucky’s arms wrap you completely with such warmth like home is supposed to feel.

Watching your reflections through the mirror, you can’t help but think how comforting the situation is, even if it can look silly to anybody else. How comforting is to see you with him, the changes, the little quirks that remain the same after a straight up mess.

How funny is it that you want to turn your little comment into reality?

How funny is it that Bucky wants that moment of certainty to freeze?

“You’ve got to help me with something.” You break the silence, smiling shyly before reaching out to the small jewelry box sitting on your make-up cabinet. A silver necklace with a studded little star is pulled out. “Please?”

Smart fingers wrap the necklace around your neck with ease, the touch of vibranium rising shivers to your skin as Bucky closes it with a little kiss pressed between your shoulder blades.

There’s that little moment of silence again until a sigh escapes from his lips, a beat of hesitancy rushing through his body before he’s fishing for the black box in his pocket. A box he’s been carrying for way too long now, just waiting for its buyer to build up the damn courage because that’s all it takes.

I mean it, Bucky! I’m marrying you.

“I’ve got something else for you to wear tonight.” Bucky says. Heart pounding violently through his chest, so much he thinks you might hear it, but voice sounding as light as ever under your curious eyes. “I—I’ve had it for a long time now. And I know it might not be the perfect moment but you just said you’d marry me.”

Turning around to face him, your mouth immediately falls open. Chest to chest, your eyes searching for his. And ss Bucky lifts the little velvet box and flips it open so, so easily with his metal thumb, your choked, disbelieved laugh fills the room.

The ring is beautiful.

No fancy stones, just a simple, silver band formed to wrap around a finger with its two ends meeting together on the top.

Both of you kept meeting each other over and over through accords, battles and sudden disappearances.

It’s meaningful enough to make your heart beat faster.

“You can’t be serious. Are you?” You ask dumbly, a silly smile soon growing on your lips as Bucky gives a playful glare. “You are. Holy shit, Bucky!”

“You aren’t sayin’ yes, baby doll.” Bucky jokes, starting to feel jittery with nerves despite a small grin. Under the anxiety and accent slip, he’s just loving to see how positively astonished you look. “I’m sweating under this suit and it won’t be good for—”

Red lips crash upon his in a rush, your fingers fisting the lapels of his suit so hard that Bucky almost stumbles on his feet, making him pull your body flush against his own. He’s sure your fingers are wrinkling his jacket just as much as his metal ones are wrinkling the delicate fabric of your dress. And your make-up, thank God, you’re wearing the smudge-proof lipstick.

There’s no time to breathe between quick, several pecks and a gasped but definitely excited reply.

“I am saying yes!”

There’s another Satuday afternoon.

A pair of booted feet walks through the tight hallway of the shoebox apartment, laughter completely filling the place as a pair of heeled feet bumps the wall in a funny noise.

The white sandals are a perfect match for the white mini dress, its hem flowing over very familiar thighs, showing a little too much because the position—or general space really, isn’t the best. Turns out that despite your skepticism, Bucky can carry you in bridal style through the cramped space. Even though, you can easily spot a stain in the back of his blazer because of a knocked vase. 

It doesn’t really matter.

As Bucky puts you down, your heels are kicked off and you immediately reach out to the memory board on the wall, pinning up a marriage certificate like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

When you turn around, Bucky is sitting by the edge of the bed just like one week ago, but now sans apprehension of an insecure man.

“We’re married!”

The gleeful tone of your words make him smile right away, pulling you closer with a gentle tug until you’re standing between his legs. Towering over him, your hands cup both of Bucky’s cheeks, thumbs brushing over the sharp, stubbly cheekbones. Your heart swells in your chest, happiness and love and calmness, because everything about the day really had been simple.

A city hall wedding with Sam, Wanda and Sam’s parents as witnesses, exactly a week after their own second wedding. Very simple and easy, as the decision of marrying each other had been.

“You’re officially a Barnes.” Bucky grins, hands brushing down the back of your thighs. Gentle fingertips under the hem of your dress, he silently urges you to sit on his lap. “Told ya, got me in trouble.”

“You say that as if you didn’t want to marry me.” You scoff playfully, wrapping your arms around his neck as settling down over him. “You can’t fool me. I totally noticed you were nervous back there.”

Not bothering to deny your words, Bucky shrugs. Even though he was nervous, it doesn’t really matter. Wrapped up in each other, surrounded by the quietness of the apartment, all he cares about is you.

A little kiss pressed to your neck.

“Well, you’d be nervous too if you were marryin’ the prettiest girl in the world.”

A laugh and a little kiss pressed to his nose.

“Well, I was nervous marrying the prettiest boy in the world.”

And then—Bucky’s lips are meeting yours in a soft kiss that swallows a sigh, hands steady and gentle around your waist as he dips down to the bed under your body. It feels like you’re both back at the ceremony again, high on your love and completely unaware of everything that isn’t each other. And he kisses you once, twice, three, four times.

Just enough to ground him, to remind him that this is what his life came to.

Don’t they say that after a storm, there’s always calm?

Yeah, well. This little shoebox apartment in the heart of Brooklyn.

This might be just it.

[rukia-kuchiki-divided]

Hello ~~ how are you this lovely morning? May I please request Ichiruki 💜🧡💜🧡 for your most recent ask please? Thank you! 💐💐💐

Send a Ship

~Hello lovely! Sorry I got to this a few days after but I’m doing well! I hope you are too and of course you can request this! I’m throwing it under a readmore because it got a bit lengthy... oops~

Who is a night owl: Rukia is for sure. Ichigo can stay up late but it’s definitely more Rukia’s thing then his. 

Who is a morning person: Ichigo. 

Are they cuddlers: I think so but only in private. Rukia is very selective with who she shows affection for in a physical way - really just Ichigo and Renji. It’s not becoming of a Kuchiki and its not her natural tendency to be so open. Renji gets it because he knew her way before she was Kuchiki and is one of the people very close to her. Ichigo knew Rukia away from the nobles and showed her what a “normal” life could be, with a family. A chance for her to be herself. So she shows Ichigo the same affection. Ichigo I think is a bit guarded with physical affection himself. So I think this cuddling would develop in really private moments between them - like Rukia laying on his bed while reading a manga and Ichigo sitting at the end of the bed with her legs leaning against his own. Or sitting beside each other on the couch where Rukia falls asleep against his shoulders and he moves so she’s resting against him more comfortably. 

Who is the big spoon: Ichigo 

Who is the little spoon: Rukia 

What is their favourite sleeping position: Ichigo being big spoon with an arm hooked around her waist protectively and Rukia’s snuggled up against his chest so she can hear his heartbeat. 

Who steals all the blankets: Rukia lol

What they wear to bed: Rukia would wear a nightgown, pj’s stolen from Yuzu, or one of Ichigo’s t-shirts which really is a nightgown on her. Ichigo would sleep in boxers and tshirt I think, maybe sweats and tshirt depending on how he’s feeling. 

Who likes seeing the other wearing their t-shirt: As comical as it might be for Ichigo to wear one of her shirts as a crop top, it would most likely be Rukia that wears Ichigo’s shirts and he loves it. 

Who falls asleep mid-conversation: Ichigo because Rukia keeps talking to him at night and he just falls asleep. 

Who wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares: Rukia more so than Ichigo but I do feel that Ichigo would occasionally have them too. 

Who accidentally punched the other in their sleep: Rukia. Accidentally of course... 

Who can’t keep their hands to themself: Ichigo. Not in a dirty, creepy way but again more in a “I need to know you’re safe” way. So once this boundary has been bridged between them, he’ll do small things to keep touch between them like put his foot against hers when they’re sitting a bit a part on the couch or rest his arm against hers while they lounge, especially when sleeping. Again, something that would alert him if she was suddenly gone from his side but also not too overbearing that she would feel smothered.

Who said “I love you” first: Ichigo. I think they both express this without actually saying the words but I honestly think Ichigo would be the first to express it verbally. 

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background: Honestly, both of them would but it would probably be Rukia that takes the actual picture for Ichigo! Like I imagine Ichigo is more of a “live in the moment” kind of person and doesn’t see a need to photograph everything when he can just hold onto the memory of the event. So I imagine it would be Rukia that would say something like “Ichigo! Look at this huge Chappy plush! You have to take a picture of it for me so I can show Renji! He’ll never believe me!” and insist Ichigo take the picture and of course he needs to be in it for height comparison purposes. Then at some point when Rukia’s not with him and he’s scrolling through his phone and sees the photo, he smiles at how happy she looked in it and makes it his background photo without telling anyone, Rukia included. 

          For Rukia, I can imagine that she would take a photo of Ichigo when without him necessarily agreeing to be photographed, either with his hand half out to stop her and scowl on his face or perhaps when he was reading and just had a rare tender look in his eyes and she snaps it quietly. She would probably make it her background photo just to annoy him at first but secretly love it and never change it. 

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror: Rukia with her chappy bunnies again.

Who buys the other cheesy gifts: Ichigo because anytime he sees something rabbit like, it reminds him for Rukia and he buys her small things to surprise her randomly and maybe to use as bribery. 

Who initiated the first kiss: Ichigo. Rukia would want to kiss him but would restrain herself because that’s the kind of person she is so she wouldn’t believe Ichigo wanted to kiss her until he’s actually doing it. Even then, she would try to rationalize it as just an act of affection between friends or something until Ichigo would give her that knowing look and call her out and kiss her again until she had no choice but to believe him. 

Who kisses the other awake in the morning: Ichigo kisses Rukia awake in the mornings and loves it when her half asleep reaction is to wrinkle her nose just like a rabbit. 

Who starts tickle fights: Rukia. Because why not? She can win those with a restraining kido. 

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower: Rukia asks Ichigo but in a very weird way lol something like “Ichigo, I read in a manga that this woman had to shower with this guy because they had to conserve water and they only had enough hot water to last them one shower - there was a whole thing about the end of the world and a zombie apocalypse and a cannibalistic murderer nearby - anyways I was thinking -” and then Ichigo would reply something like “You need to stop reading manga and start reading actual literature! That stuff’s just thrown in there for teenage girls to drool over. We have plenty of hot water. .....But if you want to shower with me, all you had to do was ask. And before you say anything more, we’re not sharing your chappy towel!” “Who said you were even worthy to touch my chappy towel, baka?” and then it goes from there.

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch: hmm both of them probably take turns doing this. I think it just depends on who’s more busy and therefore likely to forget to pay attention to lunch. But Ichigo probably tends to bring Rukia lunch more often. 

Who was nervous and shy on the first date: They both are! But Ichigo especially!

Who kills/takes out the spiders: ehh again, I don’t think this is an issue for either of them. But probably Ichigo because Rukia wouldn’t want to do it lol 

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk: Okay so obviously in an aged up scenario - Ichigo. I can totally picture him proclaiming his love to the heavens when drunk. 

[gauntie-o-dimm]

Gaunter O’Dimm | Wedding Surprises

"Of course, someone like me shouldn't get caught into the web one calls love, yet I couldn't help myself."

Gaunter has become rather jealous of your date at the wedding of Aldona and Johnnus.

Word count: 2700+ Warnings: Smut, swearing, angst

'This is it, then?' We stood in front of the gate, music playing from the other side. The formal tunic I wore hugged my waist tightly, making it a bit hard to breathe properly. Shani inhaled through her nose, clearly fighting the urge to grab Geralt's hand. I knew she fancied him, but I also knew that he didn't return those feelings, plus, Vlodimir von Everec was currently possessing the White Wolfs body, so that might explain the redheads hesitation. It was like Geralt wasn't really there, every action and word came from Vlodimirs spirit. 'I guess.' I breathed, swallowing thickly. I wasn't looking forward too much to this evening, but I felt like I had to accompany Geralt, in case something bad would happen. However, Shani insisted that I took a date with me, so I took Lambert, for I had no idea who else to take. Thing was, the medic knew that the sarcastic Witcher had been crushing on me for the longest time, and she playfully shipped us while traveling here, making Lambert blush like crazy. I kind of felt bad for him, since I was not in love with the brunet. My heart had been stolen by somebody else, to be more specific, the one that had been our contact for quite some time know, the main reason we had to fulfill this wish for Olgierd von Everec, to give his deceased brother the night of his life, or death, whatever. He was mysterious, uncanny, inexplicable. 

I kept quiet about my heart that beat a bit quicker for Gaunter O'Dimm, for I knew Geralt would be furious if he found out. He didn't trust Gaunter O'Dimm in the slightest, and who was I to blame him for that? The man was enigmatic, for fucks sake. '(Y/n)?' I blinked a few times, awakening from my daydream. 'Hm?' Shani laughed lightly. 'You are walking with your head in the clouds. Say your blessings!' Just now I noticed the couple in front of me, smiling sheepishly at me. 'Oh, right, excuse me. I wish you both the best of luck and many healthy offspring!' Aldona, the bride, blushed. 'Alright, enjoy yourselves, OK? The capping ceremony starts at midnight.' I gave the couple a friendly nod. 'There are plenty of activities to do around here, which should we do first?' Vlodimirs (Geralts) voice sounded cheerful as he draped an arm around Shani. 'Hm, what about the pig game?' Lambert suggested. 'I think you should sign up for it, Geralt. I think they need new pigs soon!' If Geralt was in control of his own body right now, the man would've bashed him across the jaw. 'Hilarious. Let's show those lads how it's done, the filthy peasants don't know how to fetch their wenches-- I mean ladies a prize.' I rolled my eyes at the behavior of the deceased Von Everec. 'I will get (Y/n) that plush piggy, then you got something to cuddle with when I am not home, right (Y/n)?' Lambert winked, a flirty smile covering his face. I shuddered, looking away. 'Come on, Lambert.' Vlodimir beckoned the brunet. Shani grabbed my arm, pulling me with her to sit close to the fence, a perfect view on how the two men tried to drive the pigs with a circle on their backs in the pen. 'How do you like Lambert?' I shook my head. 'Not at all. He is nice, you can laugh with him, sure, but I don't see more in him than just a friend.' 'Sure...' She wiggled her eyebrows, a smile plastered on her face. 'I really do not like Lambert.' She held up her hands in a defensive way. 'Alright, you're the boss.' Cheers were audible from the pen, two mud-covered Witchers standing with their hands in the air in victory, high-fiving in the process. 'Now, for who is the pig?' 'Depends on what you mean with pig. Geralt, Lambert, or the plushie.'

I let out a squeak when Lambert slipped my shoe back on my foot. It was completely soaked and dirty. 'Is that seaweed?' The brunet shrugged. 'What about it? Don't like slippery things?' I had to resist the urge to slap him across the face. 'Fuck off.' My foot made a soggy sound as I stood up, walking over to Shani, who was looking rather dreamily at Geralt, who was downing an entire tray of shots. I nudged her shoulder, making her jump. 'Eh?' 'And you say I am walking with my head in the clouds?' The redhead huffed, a small smile covering her face. 'I like Geralt more when Vlodimir is possessing him. Makes him more... Loose.' I scrunched my nose. 'Hm, not me. Geralt is supposed to be grumpy.' A arm was draped around my waist, a drink pushed in my hands. 'Drink up, darling.' I smelled the alcoholic beverage. 'What kind of drugs did you put in this?' Lambert chuckled. 'All kinds of them. I said, drink up.' I sipped it carefully. 'It's good.' I tried to ignore the brunets arm around me and focused on the music instead, its tune rather jolly. 'Wanna dance?' I nearly choked on the wine. 'Dance? With you?' Lambert hummed in agreement. 'Of course, with who else? Geralt?' The White Wolf puffed out his chest. 'Try me.' 'Let's have a dance off, shall we?' Vlodimir grabbed Shani's hand, pulling her towards the open area on the dance floor. 'Yes, we shall.' I let out a sound of surprise as the brunet Witcher started twirling me around on the beat of the music without a single warning. 'You are very good at this!' I complimented him, clapping along with the dance. He smiled, grabbing my hand as we turned. 'Thank you, (Y/n), but I have an excellent dance partner!' I frowned, not able to withhold a smile. 'Truly? I have never danced before much.' 'That explains you're a natural!' He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. 'You smell nice.' he purred. 'Thanks, I guess.' 'Here comes the fun part.' An unexpected turn in the music had him bringing me down into a dip. I laughed, taken aback a bit. A nervous feeling started building up in my chest as he leaned closer. I could feel his breath hitting my lips, and I was about to push him away as I heard two loud claps behind me, and silence filled my ears as everything froze in place. I gasped, freeing myself from Lamberts arms before turning around to face the figure that had stopped time.

I felt my cheeks heat up as my eye fell on Gaunter O'Dimm, who was giving me a grin. 'What are you doing here?' I whispered, brushing a few creases from my fancy dress. 'I just had to interrupt your little date with that mutt over there. Just because, I do not like the way he looks at you, I do not like the way he comes near you, I do not like it that he thinks about doing things to you that I want to do to you.' My eyes widened at this sudden confession. 'Why right now? Why at this moment? Why didn't you intervene before the party even started?' Gaunter gave the frozen Lambert a death glare. 'He was about to... Kiss you.' I frowned. 'I noticed, but I didn't really know what to do.' 'I know. That is why I decided to come in.' His gaze met mine, and my eyes shot away from his dark orbs quickly. 'Don't be shy. What did I ever do to you?' 'What now?' He stopped in his tracks from approaching me. 'Beg your pardon?' 'What are you going to do now? You froze time, saved me from that kiss, now what? Resume the flow of life, let Lambert nearly kiss me again?' Gaunter smiled, stepping forward until he halted in front of Lambert. 'No, for sure not.' He reached for his satchel and I narrowed my eyes. 'What's that?'Are you really going to...' I gagged as Gaunter put the cockroach in Lamberts slightly opened mouth. The man let out a chuckle. 'That will teach him. No one ever touches something that belongs to me.' I frowned, yet my stomach flipped in nerves. 'Belong to you? It was Geralt who had made a pact with you, not I.' The Man Of Glass rubbed his chin, brushing past me to gaze over the guest-filled room, a pondering look on his face. The light of the torches around the place set his face in a curious light, enough to make butterflies flutter in my stomach. 'Everyone that is connected with the person I have a pact with will be afflicted some way. You, (Y/n), have caught my eye.' I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to sound like I didn't care. 'W-What about it?' I closed my eyes for a moment, cursing myself for being so obvious. Gaunter smirked slightly, looking over his shoulder at me. 'I see that I have a certain effect on you. Tell me, (Y/n), what is the matter? Do I make you feel uncomfortable?' 'Not at all. Now, why did I catch your eye?' 

He turned to me fully now, his hands folded together in front of him. 'Geralt can be affected by the people around him, and he suspects something. It is something about you, yet he cannot put a finger on it. Briefly, you are withholding Geralt from fulfilling his tasks properly. He thinks too much.' We locked eyes, and even though I tried to break the contact, I couldn't look away. 'You are holding a secret, one he should not know. A secret that includes me.' My heart skipped a beat and we were silent. 'How did you...' 'I am just a merchant.' I shook my head. 'You can drop the act, I know you are not.' He smiled, a smile that sent shivers down my spine. 'Interesting.' Gaunter muttered, approaching me. My breath hitched in my throat. 'I know you fancy me, (Y/n). And it so happens that I have always thought you to be a... rather beautiful girl. Of course, someone like me shouldn't get caught into the web one calls love, yet I couldn't help myself.' I swallowed. 'Is this a confession?' I spoke, my stomach a nervous mess. 'More or less.' I bit back a smile. 'Don't do that. Your smile is gorgeous.' For a man as Gaunter, this sounded highly unlikely to emit from his throat, yet it had, and this remark set my face in a shade of crimson. I smiled widely now, Gaunter laughing lightly. 'Alright,' I sighed, looking at my feet blushing, 'Geralt cannot know, and things just might have become more complicated.' My hands trembled as I reached up to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. 'Hmhm...' His gaze pierced right through me, as if he was reading my mind. Gaunter was quiet, staring at me for a solid ten seconds. 'You know, (Y/n), I was wondering... What do you ever see in me? I can hear your heart beating in your throat...' I swallowed thickly. 'You're mysterious and charming.' The Man of Glass smiled. 'I am a dangerous man.' 'I know.' He approached me, halting right in front of my flustered being. 'I have met a lot of ladies in my life, (Y/n), but on none of them I had the kind of effect I have on you.' His hand brushed against mine, and I bit on my lip.

'You seem lonely.' I dared to say, but not without letting my gaze fall to the floor. 'Perhaps I am.' I blushed a bit, playing with a ribbon on my gown. 'Perhaps I will need a little distraction, one that'll lift my spirits a bit.' My stomach tightened and I couldn't fight the tension that started to grow between my legs. I stepped away from Gaunter, turning my back to him while shaking my head. 'It's wrong, it's totally wrong.' 'Aren't the things Geralt does as well? What does it matter, (Y/n)?' I felt two arms wrap around my waist and my breath hitched in my throat. I let out a low hum when his hand brushed up my thigh, under my tunic. 'I can smell your arousal already.' I gasped as his fingers brushed against my clothed core teasingly. I felt my wetness seep through my panties. 'You're soaking already, and I haven't even touched you yet.' He pressed a kiss in my neck, goose-bumps appearing on my arms. His lips were surprisingly warm for someone like him. I realized that under it all, under the dangerous layers of his being, was an alive creature with a beating heart, a heart that needed love as well, or so it seemed. Gaunter fiddled with the edge of my panties, pushing them aside as his other hand massaged my covered breasts. I shivered as cold air hit my hot womanhood. He pressed a kiss under my ear, biting down on the lobe. I moaned, making Master Mirror chuckle in satisfaction. I could feel his erection against mu butt. He brushed against my clit, and I rubbed myself against his palm. 'Fuck...' I pressed my behind against his straining bulge to create some friction. He hummed lowly. 'Just what do you think you're doing?' He pinched my clitoris, making me moan. It hurt, but it was a good kind of pain. He plunged two fingers deep inside of me, and I leaned back my head so he could suck on my neck's soft spots. He nibbled on the skin while his fingers were coated in my juices as he pressed them in and out of me. 'Why didn't I do this before, if I knew you were so desperate...' he purred, making my knees buckle. 'Why are you doing this...?' I breathed, slipping my bottom lip between my teeth as his digits made a come-here movement, hitting my g-spot. 'I already told you, but did you listen?' My mind was too blurry to try to recall what he had told me earlier. His calloused fingers sped up, making the knot in my stomach tighten. I let out light moans as he fingered me, his teeth grazing against my jaw as my head laid upon his shoulder. I was fully leaned into him, my legs not strong enough to stand. I bit on my lip, turning my face to kiss him. His tongue slithered into my mouth instantly, and I could taste the alcohol he had drunk. He inhaled through his nose, speeding up his hand yet again. I groaned, bucking my hips into his fingers. My walls started to tighten around him, my orgasm coming close. 'Fuck, Gaunter, I am so close...' I whimpered, closing my eyes. 

I got closer and closer to my release. If he would just hit my clitoris now, he would push me over the edge. 'Good.' Gaunter answered in a deep voice, his free hand that had been fondling my breasts moving into the air. He snapped his fingers, a gagging noise following. I opened my eyes quickly, only to see Lambert spitting out the cockroach. 'W-What?! A cockroa-- (Y/n)?!' The Witchers jaw fell open as he saw me in the embrace of Gaunter O'Dimm, who was smirking evilly. I couldn't respond, my high too close. It was as if I were in a sort of trance, I could not fight it. 'Right in time.' Gaunter said, his thumb pressing against the sensitive bud between my legs, making me cum all over his fingers. I moaned loudly, my knees buckling underneath me, almost collapsing if it weren't for the Man of Glass holding me up. 'Oh!' I squeaked, falling to my knees as Gaunter released me, his hand covered in my juices. I was too weak to stand up, gathered all my strength to look up to Lambert, who had a shocked, hurt expression on his face. He was looking from Gaunter to me, and someone behind me. I let out a dry sob as I realized that Geralt and Shani had seen it as well. Master Mirror locked eyes with me, licking the cum off his fingers. 'Hmm, you taste good. See you later, (Y/n).' He said, greeting my friends with a nod before walking away. 'I think you should start explaining, (Y/n).'

[saey-bae]

Winter Reds - Saeran/MC

love letter to winter I. this is love letter to winter II. 💜 

word count: 1.3k

check out my masterpost here

He doesn't quite know when his life sifted between the fingers of fate and landed in her cupped hands. He recalls scrabbling for the narrow precipice of reason he had slipped from and he remembers the bitter taste of fear as he stumbled through uncharted territory. He also knows when he had haphazardly made it into her arms-- ones that had waited patiently for him.

She had greeted him with a smile that remains etched in the back of his mind, with a touch so warm it reached beyond physical means. If he were to draw her into his mind, he'd feel the warmth of her presence wrap around his heart, a well-worn blanket, and the memory like a well-loved book- words faded, pages missing, but the story remaining. It still makes him wonder why he had ever danced around the line of commitment.

Friends? Lovers?

He should have known the answer quicker, but he didn't. She waited until he did.

And he shouldn't have been surprised. He'd known she was patient in the way her hands moved, in the way her hips swayed, in the way words fell from her lips as if she were singing a lullaby. She moved with time, never bargaining for more, like the ocean kissing the shore before retreating at its leisure.

Somehow, he’d known that the moment he laid eyes on her.

He had met her when the snow had begun falling, when the vivid skies of fall clouded over and another long, lonely season settled in. There was no escape from the dry winter air-- no layers of clothing, no thick insulation, no supply of heat could stop the chill from seeping into his achy bones. But he still turned his collar against the cold as he waited for the light to turn, and that was when he caught sight of the woman standing across the street, waiting for the same light.

Her wool coat was the colour of poppies, vibrant against the stretches of heavy grey clouds painted across the sky. A colour so warm that the eerie stillness hanging in the frosty air yielded to crimson symphonies.   

Her eyes met his and she smiled. He smiled back.

He learned that she had recently moved into the sleepy city, settling away from the rat race she once thrived in. He learned that she was living in the condominium two streets down from his own tiny bungalow, and that they’d have time to meet up. He learned that she liked strolls and knitting and winter. Winter was her favourite season.

And he couldn’t figure out why.

“The clean smell,” she’d say, and he’d take a deep breath, as if a conscious intake of the cold breeze would give him a better understanding of her words, though it would only disappoint him when no immediate revelation came.

“It smells like any other air…”

“Cleaner,” she had insisted, and he didn’t press further.

(What did the “clean smell” even mean?)

“The morning light,” she’d say one morning, as the two of them strolled along a poorly shovelled sidewalk leading to a small coffee shop he had introduced her to. He’d lift a hand to shield his eyes as he looked up to the dim, clouded over sky in confusion.

“It’s still dark out,” he’d mumble back, narrowing at the way the dull clouds brewed grouchily, heavy with precipitation. “And it looks like it’s going to snow again.”

“Maybe. But snow is so beautiful!”

And he’d glance at the dirty snow lining the streets --more slush than snow, really-- before shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally. If that’s what made her happy, he had no arguments.

(It was a strange attitude to take on her end, though, especially considering the fact that she had gotten mild frostbite the next day.)    

“The winter apparel,” she’d say, a little over two months later, as she tossed a black sweater and a hand-knit magenta scarf at his face. He’d reach up to feel at the plush cloth around his face before peeling it off, blushing when he realized it was one of her many gifts to him leading up to Christmas.

“You didn’t have to make anything for me.”

“Now, now, don’t complain! Go try it on for me.” She would weasel her way past him and into his house as she had done so many times before, beaming as if she were on the receiving end of the gift. “By the way, I want to go pick out a tree for my place-- care to come along?”

He’d sigh, raising a brow. She’d smiled that warm smile of hers, one that he would come to grow rather fond of.

“Alright, fine.”

(He would have done so without any prompting, anyway.)

“The hot chocolate,” she’d say, handing him a mug before taking a spot next to him near the fireplace. He’d have a thick blanket around his shoulders and she wouldn’t hesitate to cosy up to him, though he’d eye her a little funny as he sipped at his drink.

And he’d reluctantly agree with her -- that hot chocolate was worth suffering for, that he’d go through an entire year of winter if only she’d lean against him as they sipped at their drinks-- after he had burned his tongue on the saccharine drink one too many times.

(But only her hot chocolate was worth suffering through winter for.)

“The beauty,” she’d say, gesturing to the glossy coat of ice clinging to bare trees –a result of the rain from the night before– and he had to admit to himself that braving the wind that nipped his cheeks ruddy was a worthwhile sacrifice to be able to view a forest of glazed trees with her.

The tender revelation had him pausing, then smiling at the back of her head. When she turned back to glance at him, the smile dropped.

“I saw that!” she’d exclaim, a puff of warm air escaping her lips.

“Saw what?” The pitch of his voice had fallen into a low, flat grumble.

“You know,” she’d reply with a vague smirk. She would turned back to the trees, even as her sneaky hands slipped out of their pockets, warm fingers tangling with his freezing ones.

He’d smile. And, as he observed how the wintry skies painted her in a beautiful figure, he would belatedly realize he was in love, even if he didn’t know how to express it. Perhaps being unable to express is was what scared him the most.

(He didn’t want to ruin anything. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone, he promised.)

So he spent the next winter alone. He felt the chill in his bones, in his heart this time. The eerie stillness lingered in the spaces she once occupied, filling the gaps with frosty silence he’s never known.

He froze that winter and, unbeknownst to him, so did she.

Merry Christmas. Want to go for a stroll?

And she said, Yes, please.   

He had never known such a happiness.

Many winters later, she’d claim her spot next to him as they sat near the fireplace, curled up beneath the same quilt. Hot chocolate mugs were nearby, waiting to be sipped from.

“I’ve made a mistake,” she’d say. His arm would came around to pull her closer and she’d smile. “The best part of winter is this.” 

And he’d say, “This?”

“The cuddles.” Her sticky lips pecked his cheek, so he planted one on her in retaliation. She laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Spending time with you.”

Somewhere along the way, along the years, he realized she loved winter because warmth emanated from within her and she shared it freely. Winter couldn’t freeze her. He smiled back in a fashion that, he hoped, was equally as warm. “Winters with you are the best.”

And he’d whisper, even softer, once she had nodded off, “Thank you for waiting for me.”  

[fanficsandfluff]

Fantastic Beasts: A World So New and Bright

This was originally a drabble prompt requested by @the-word-weaver-of-the-faeries and it got too long to be a drabble anymore. So here’s a full length fic. 

As I was writing this, it turned out to be less of one coherent narrative and more three drabbles I combined into one. So there’s no main plot lol you can tell when the fics change. 

Also, weirdly enough, I started to ship Newt and Credence the longer I wrote this, but in case that was weird and gross, I didn’t do it???? just very friendly and cute platonic domestic Newt and Credence presented here lol Hope you enjoy!

Words: 2,276

Credence was never one to interact with others, growing up with an abusive parent like his mother. He’d keep to himself, head down, never acknowledging anything. But he did hold a certain affinity for cats. There were strays all over the dreary neighborhood where he lived. And he’d long to take them in for his own. Living with an abundance of cats was better than living with his mother, in his mind. Better than living with any other humans, in fact. They were all out to hurt him. But not cats. 

The young wizard would go outside and put out bowls of food and water for the alley cats, hanging around outdoors long enough sometimes to get to pet them. 

And Credence hadn’t thought of cats since living with Newt, being more distracted by wild monsters and other such magical creatures. It wasn’t until he’d taken a stroll through the neighborhood and in a park on a bright sunny day was his reminded. He was passing by a turned over trash can and a small mew reached his ears. He paused and tried to take a look around the area of the trash can as to what made that noise.

A grey furry cat peeked its head out from inside the can, a lone noodle from someone’s thrown out food looping around its ear. Credence’s heart melted instantly. He knelt down, not wanting the cat to be afraid of him. He started to mutter and made hand gestures at the cat, holding his hand out. Eventually, the small mass made its way out. It was a little larger than the size of a kitten, so it was obviously still young. Poor thing. Credence let it lick his hand before he was allowed to pet it. And the cat purred, nuzzling into Credence. Oh boy. He’d have to make a decision sooner or later… 

Credence arrived back at Newt’s place twenty minutes after, and the sun had just started to set. Newt was busy cooking dinner for the two of them and he stepped out to greet Credence. 

“How was your walk?” Newt inquired, not seeing at first but he noted a peculiar bulge in Credence’s coat. And in the next second, a cat’s head poked out from the coat and looked around at its surroundings. Credence blushed and he set the cat on the ground, looking at Newt but not saying anything. 

Newt sighed but he smiled, “Well…. what’s one more creature around here, hm?”   

Credence smiled wide. He cared for Newt so much. The man was so nice to him, pleased with anything he’d do. It was a welcome experience after the life he’d led. The Magizoologist knelt down and tittered, the cat walking towards him after some hesitation. The cat warmed up to Newt unsurprisingly fast.   

“She’s a beautiful cat,” Newt pointed out, looking up at Credence through locks of his light brown hair.   

Credence nodded and asked, “How did you know she’s a girl?” 

Newt smiled and stood up, “I’m not an animal expert for nothing. Now come, supper’s almost ready.”   

Credence watched the grey cat carefully, making sure she was adjusting to her new environment. Newt put out a dish full of water for the cat and set it on the floor next to the table. She quickly trotted over and lapped it up.   

“Have you got a name for her?” Newt asked once he sat down and began to eat.   

Credence, chewing, nodded, “I was thinking Molly.” 

Newt smiled approvingly, “Molly it is.” For Newt, this was such a nice experience. Credence found something he clearly liked and brought it home. It was refreshing to have Credence pleased with animals for once instead of hiding his fears of the ones Newt worked with constantly. 

And so Molly became a part of their small family. Well, not so small if you counted all of Newt’s creatures. Credence would go to sleep cuddled up with her frequently. Newt would bring some other creatures of his to interact with Molly, making a note of who she clicked with and who she disliked. 

A rainy day seemed less frequent nowadays than in the past, but they did occur. And today was one of those days. Credence stood by the window and watched the rain pour from the sky. He looked down when he felt something furry nuzzling and swiping against his ankle. The wizard smiled softly and he sat down on the sofa, picking up Molly when she followed him. He settled her into his lap and stroked her like she loved.   

Newt emerged from his suitcase after feeding all the creatures, looking dirty and worn as always. But still immensely happy. Nothing could bring down his spirit, even the tiring job of having so many magical creatures to take care of. Pickett had stowed away in his vest pocket, and Newt didn’t mind.   

He plopped down into a lone plush chair and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He looked out the window and hummed, “Looks like a day for staying in.” 

Credence nodded. He looked at Newt and asked him, “Would you like to read?”  

Newt knew what Credence meant and he smiled, “Yes, I believe they don’t need caring for for a bit. What would you like to hear today, Credence?” 

“Your choice. I usually prefer the ones you pick over mine.” 

Newt smiled and he went to his vast shelf of books, thumbing through the spines until he lifted one from its spot. Credence scooted over on the couch so Newt could sit beside him and Molly.   

“It’s the one we started a few weeks ago. I figured we’d pick up on it now.” 

“The one with the traveling banker?” Credence asked, tilting his head. Newt nodded in response and opened it up. 

“Chapter 6: A Game of Chess…”   

Credence sat back in the couch. He loved when Newt would read to him. It was one of his favorite things. And now Newt’s soothing voice mixed with the pleasant purrs from Molly as he pet her put Credence into a state of absolute bliss. Everything was calming. Even the patters of rain against the roof and windows was welcome. 

The peaceful state was only broken when Newt cut off one of the words he was reading and replaced it with a yelp and a brief giggle.   

Credence looked up, confused as to what had happened. 

Newt squirmed slightly, pressing his palm to different parts of his chest and abdomen, “P-Pihickett, come out of thehehere.” 

Credence now understood and he smiled softly.   

Newt giggled and he gasped, hunching over only slightly when Pickett reached his lower belly, “N-Nohohoho… Pihickett!”   

The small bowtruckle was heard emitting a mischievous little giggle as he crawled across Newt’s belly. It always worked out well for him since he knew Newt couldn’t move much because he feared hurting the small twig creature. But Pickett did soon exit through Newt’s sleeve, forcing another string of giggles out of his mouth. Newt held Pickett in the palm of his hand and he chortled, shaking his head. He couldn’t stay mad at the adorable little bowtruckle.   

Unfortunately, Molly had caught sight of the intriguing small creature. So she hopped off Credence’s lap with a meow and lunged for the bowtruckle. Pickett, sensing the danger, gasped and jumped off Newt’s hand.   

“No!” both Newt and Credence chorused, one trying to catch the bowtruckle and the other trying to catch the cat. They ended up crashing into one another, Newt on top of Credence.   

“M-Mahaybe this wasn’t such a grand idea,” Newt smiled and blushed, quickly standing up and running where Molly had gone, “Pickett, come out,” he picked up the cat as she was scratching at a small crack in the wall, “She won’t hurt you.”   

Credence stood up, “I’m sorry, this was my fault. I should’ve contained her.” 

“Not to worry, Credence,” Newt reassured, handing over the cat. He crawled close to the hole and spoke into it, trying to convince the frightened bowtruckle that it was safe. Once Pickett walked out, Newt picked him up, “Alright, back in the case you go. I know, I know, I’m sorry.”   

Credence felt bad now as he watched Newt retreat into his suitcase to put Pickett back home. He sighed and sat down again with Molly.   

When Newt returned, he looked bashful and relieved at the same time, “I didn’t think about the two being together, Credence, I apologize.” 

Credence shook his head, “Don’t. It was no one’s fault, really. Cats will chase things resembling mice, I suppose. It’s in their nature.” 

Newt nodded and he brushed his hands off, “I’m going to wash up for the night.” 

Credence didn’t object, and he heard Newt’s footsteps ascending the stairs. Oh no, what if he was mad with him? He hated whenever he felt tension within the household. He tended to create imaginary tension with his paranoia most of the time, which Newt had to help him work through.   

Turns out, they were both fine. Credence went to speak with Newt after the Magizoologist showered and cleaned up. There was no bad blood between them, and Newt even offered to finish the chapter in the book before they both went to bed.   

A few days later, Newt was having a particularly fun time with his creatures. He’d give many of them time playing with him. And he even managed to calm his Erumpent enough to let them roll around and start a chase. Newt was perhaps so livened with all the fun, it oozed out into the real world when he encountered Credence.   

He saw Credence laying on the couch, a book in hand as he read with a somber face. Molly was laying on her bed on the floor near the desk. Newt walked up to Credence and sat by the young wizard’s feet.   

Credence looked up from his book and grinned slightly at seeing Newt covered in dust and dirt.   

“Are you absolutely sure you wouldn’t care to assist me with them today? They’re all in delightfully playful moods.”   

Credence shook his head, “No thank you.” 

“Then perhaps I should describe to you all the fun we’re having down there,” Newt stood up and he began his depictions.

“The Occamy was teaching her children how to fly for the first time, and she was using me as targets for them,” Newt reenacted him having to run around and jump into the air to dodge and attempt to “fly” with the babies.   

Credence couldn’t believe the spectacle he was watching. Sure, Newt could be energetic and excited about his creatures. But he was never this eccentric. It brought a smile to the Occulus’s face as he took in what was before him. 

“And the Erumpent would charge at me like this,” he bent forward and pretended his head was the Erumpent’s giant horn as he nuzzled close to Credence. The wizard let out a giggle.   

“The Fwoopers were having a grand old time making me spin around until I fell down from dizziness. They’re quite fast flyers, you know,” and Newt plopped onto the floor after spinning around. His giddiness was only heightened by the amount of enjoyment Credence was getting out of this display.   

“Oh, and how could I forget the bowtruckles?” he hopped up and jumped up onto Credence’s waist, looking down at him.   

Credence looked back up at his friend, seeing the freckled and dirt-smudged red cheeks looking back down at him. It made him smile even wider. But he squeaked and started to giggle when Newt spidered his fingers all across his belly. 

“They all ganged up on me like this. So it felt like a dozen spiders running across my skin. It was so ticklish, I couldn’t believe it,” Newt smiled and he fluttered his fingers up to Credence’s neck. The young wizard snorted and he ducked his head. 

“N-Nehewt! Hehehe…” 

Newt slipped his hands under Credence’s sweater and he skittered his fingers all around the quivering tummy, “Doesn’t this all sound like fun, Credence?” 

Credence laughed harder and he shook his head, “Ihihihit’s ahaHA toohoohoo muhuch! Hahahahaha!”   

Newt hummed and he giggled, swirling a finger around Credence’s belly button, “Once you have a bowtruckle tickle you here,” he scritched one finger inside Credence’s navel, “You’ll realize you’ve never laughed harder in your life.” 

And Credence shrieked and dissolved into deeper laughs, being more high-pitched. Newt pulled his fingers back to give Credence a break. But he wiggled them above Credence’s face to taunt him.   

Credence squeaked and shut his eyes, “Noho more!”   

Newt let out a soft laugh and he lowered his hands, resting them at Credence’s waist, “No more,” he repeated. 

Credence opened up his eyes again and he smiled at Newt. The hands at his waist were still making him wary, but he let it be. Just the two smiling, panting faces were enough in that small moment. Now that the laughter had calmed down, the two could hear Molly meowing from the foot of the couch. She’d wandered over, seemingly wanting to get in on the fun, too.   

Newt receded off Credence and he sat with his knees under him on the couch. He picked up Molly and held her in the air, letting her lick at his face. He scrunched his nose and giggled softly before handing her to Credence.   

“Beautiful,” was the thing Newt decided to say at that moment. He reclined where he sat and shut his eyes, obviously tired from all the fun he’d had. Credence huffed a small laugh, having to agree with him. Things were beautiful.

[cutiecrates]

Review: Doki Doki Crate 16 March 2017

I am in LOVE with this cover art. Next to the Halloween and September cover and artists, this is another of my favorites. The artist is Princess Misery, who has her own Tumblr blog you can check out: but be warned- her art is cute but fairly dark and may disturb some light-hearted viewers/readers!

I admit this is coming a bit later than I would have liked. However, this is with good reason. All I have left to do for this month is the Tokyo Treat Box (and Candysan whenever I get it; fingers crossed ♡), and as I mentioned in a previous post I have also been working on making space cause Cutie Towers has really expanded into a full apartment complex!

For the approaching spring season (along with celebrating Hinamatsuri/Girls Day this month), this months Suteki Crate hit the theme right on its mark! You may also notice Punipuni and Pyonpyon on the next page, all ready for Hinamatsuri as well. 

Before I begin I would like to take a moment to explain Hinamatsuri/Girls Day.

Hinamatsuri is a holiday celebrated in Japan at the first sign of spring, when everything is cute, flowery, and best of all- PINK!!! In home, Hinamatsuri dolls are placed to bring good luck for the households daughter/daughters, and once it ends the dolls must be put away or else it could bring bad luck. In this time everyone enjoys adorable, pretty pink food and dress in pretty kimono for flower viewing ✿

For this crate I decided to start with the two ‘plush‘ items I got:

I was delighted to see I obtained Punipuni. Dressed as an empress doll she rests on a leaf to resemble spring mochi. She is fairly stiff compared to normal stuffed dolls and although I really wanted to love her, I found it a little difficult. To name a few issues...

1. Her head piece is held by too much glue and isn’t as detailed as I would hope accurately possible.

2. The cotton tail has a huge clump of glue on it and on the fur where it was.

3. The clothy texture of the leaf doesn’t go with the hard stuffed bunny at all. It feels like a random piece of cloth someone sewn to the bottom.

Now please keep in mind, I’m not trying to be mean or rude. I do like Puni, but I’m wondering if her quality borders on that of the first Julie so many subscribers hated, or if it was just mine. Unfortunately I have to rate her a 2.5 out of 5. She’s cute but I feel like there is a quality issue about her.

Next to Puni is the adorable Sasurai No Tabineco Fuwa Mocchi Plush, an adorable fluffy and fat kitty-cat that almost put Tsum-Tsum to shame (almost!), there was 4 possible to get:

I adore cats- especially black cats. But I would have been happy with any of them. Like well cooked mochi (or a warm marshmallow~), this kitty is squishy and stretchy. I love to smoosh and pull it, and squish it’s tummy ♡ I’m obsessed with this kitty. Not only is it really cute, but it’s a perfect stress relief toy. 5 out of 5!

I have a feeling this little guy is going to receive quite the workout from me.

Now for my two little items (not counting Hoppechan) in this box. I’ve noticed the Neko Atsume craze seems to be dying down; but the merchandise is still extremely popular. I see it all the time, and I get items related to it in the Crates fairly often (my favorite kitty is Odd). This month we get a Neko Atsume charm.

I have to admit, out of all the charms I get this is probably not one I’d choose for my phone (mainly because I’m addicted to my vampire hello kitty charm ♡). I will admit the detailing is really nice, fairly simple but clean and accurate (if you don’t know Neko Atsume, this is accurate for the cat I got. It’s not dirty.) I’ll give it a 3 out of 5. I like it, but...

The item clipped to it is the Pote Usa Loppy Clip, perfect for any opened snacks or little bags but not suggested for hair (unless attached to another accessory maybe), or finger play! It’s practical and adorable, which already earns an A+ from me.

Besides, who doesn’t love Usa Loppy? U(•ㅅ•)U 4 out of 5.

I was pretty happy to see this adorable cup in the box. The Disney Cup resembles a non-glass porcelain with beautiful water color art depicting Ariel, Jasmine, Cinderella, Bell, Snow White, or Mickey and Minnie. The character is detailed up close on the front, with an artistic coloring design and name detail on the back:

I have to admit, I would have loved to get the Mickey/Minnie one to see what it looked like. I’ve yet to find anyone who got it. I also wish they included Aurora/Sleeping Beauty- who was always my favorite Disney Princesses, or maybe even Marie. She’s really popular and would have been perfect for this series.

Despite those opinions, I LOVE this cup! I’m not sure what it’s made out of it, but it is durable. It fell off of my desk and didn’t chip or anything, showing how durable it is before I even used it. This is something I appreciate, considering I own pets (including a few mischievous kitties). It’s pretty and come on, who doesn’t love disney? 5 out of 5!

Lastly, we receive our monthly Hoppe-chan (Known as “Hishimochi Hoppe-chan” for this month). As usual, the deco bits and cake itself are made from plastic, while Hoppe-chan and the cream are soft and rubbery. As much as I love normal size/big Hoppe-chan, I adore little food ones too! I don’t really have anything special or unique to remark upon this one. I love it like always ♡  5 out of 5.

With Hoppe-chan I put the final item in the box, a slim pen case. This is a perfect little item for school, work, or just a purse to keep your pens or pencils in order. For this crate it was possible to get one based on Sumikko Gurashi or Rilakkuma. They’re also double-sided (but I couldn’t manage a pic due to limit).

For this particular case, I’m not sure if they were racing or if this is some sort of popularity ranking. Either way I was happy because my two favorite both ranked 1st. Look how cute and shy they are~♡ Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll use this, but I really like it! 4 out of 5.

♡ Cutie Ranking ♡

Quality  - 4 out of 5. Besides the confusing Puni plush, everything was fine.

Content - 3 out of 5. Don’t get me wrong, I really liked everything, but it only sorta/half-fit the theme. I also didn’t like that some items were kind of on the cheap and small side (like the usa loppy clip).

Practicality - Besides the 2 stuffed animals everything is practical. I’ll probably only use 2 or 3 of the items though...   4 out of 5

Total Rank: 11 out of 15 Cuties. I loved most of the items and found myself unable to rank anything super low, but at the same time, I think the few previous boxes were better. I certainly did not hate it though.

♡ Cutie Scale ♡

1. Sasurai no tabineco plush - I had to give it first place. It has a large tummy you can squish and poke and cuddle-wuddle~

2. Pen Case - I love Sumikko Gurashi and everyone looks so cute!

3. Hoppe-chan - tiny Hoppe-chan is always precious, She was simply sweet ♡

4. Pote Usa Loppy Clip - She is kawaii precious, but I wish we got the entire body, or maybe that it was bigger?

5. PuniPuni - Like Mango from the last box, I found it hard to be all that attached... She is cute, but there was some little issues.

6. Disney Cup - With it’s water coloring method, it borders on extravagantly beautiful! But not cute.

7. Neko Atsume Charm - I’m sorry but I just didn’t find it very cute.

Okay Cuties, be sure to get your appetites ready! Next is the Tokyo Treat crate, also celebrating Hinamatsuri with Sakura and Green Tea flavors. Until next time, Stay Cute! 

[cutiecrates]

Review 1: Doki Doki Crate 10

Fun Fact: one of the names I considered for this blog was “Cutie Towers” and THAT was why. Also I’m sorry for the lighting, it was around 3:00 am when I was taking these pictures.

After recovering from the majesty that is “Cutie Towers“ (and by that I mean having the crates fall on me and knock me unconscious for about 10 minutes while my cat, Peach, stood there and watched) the fond memories of receiving my very first Crate came flowing back to me.

On the day I got it, I was preparing to head to the Hotel for an evening stay. I also knew the Crate was to be arriving....

except... it didn’t...

For about ten minutes. As it turns out, they accidentally dropped it off at the Neighbors.

If you read my In The Box review, you might remember me saying “part of my decision to get the box was because of its cute pink, heart theme.“ Well, this specific box was the other part. For September, DokiDoki Crate decided to focus on CATS. I knew right then and there I had to have it. My hesitation flew out of the window and in two seconds I was ordering it.

Now, for the first Review I decided to cover the contents of the DokiDoki magazine/booklet. Just a little bit of information you guys can look forward to.

Pages 1 and 2 generally cover the contents of the booklet and the theme.

Page 3 is generally reserved for Tomomi (the mascot of DokiDoki) and Hoppe-chan (who I plan to go over further in my post about the DokiDoki Crate branding itself) Here they both discuss cosplay and cat ears, pretty much.

Page 4 usually consists of two comics related to the original character within the box, or the theme of the box itself. Always very cute and funny.

Page 5 and 6 is reserved for revealing the Crates contents, including a picture and information on it. I had planned to show that here but I kinda thought that’d spoil the rest of the entry.

Page 7 is normally reserved for the Suteki Crate, which is essentially a very special, monthly “bonus crate“ full of special items that a random subscriber can win. I have to admit, I REALLY wanted to get my hands on that Ichimatsu x3 I adore him and honestly didn’t expect to see anything related to Osomatsu-san in the Crates. But its cat themed. You can’t have cats without Ichimatsu~

Page 8 is used to discuss the included original DokiDoki character. For this issue it was Julie, a kitty model in Shibuya who enjoys being pampered (spoiled). She is a rival of Take and Omo, the Harajuku twin dogs.

The final pages are dedicated to the fans, with one usually detailing a contest and the other full of fanart or pictures taken by fans. At the bottom of the last page is a section dedicated to the cover artist. For this kawaii kitty box, the Artist was Taxikun!

So this ends the detailed discussion on the Doki Doki booklet/magazine. This won’t be in every topic, just ones featuring a new crate review (but they are all genuinely the same).

For the month of September (btw, anyone who got this, did you notice the contents table inside listed it as the 09/August?), each subscriber gained 6 items.

Julie - A Doki Doki original (and possibly only controversial) character. A cutie-kitty with a posh fashion sense and kawaii generic plush stuffs. I thought she was the cutest thing ever and cuddled her silly. I will admit, she wasn’t the best quality though, the fur on her cheeks and tail are terribly matted and just unpleasant to touch. Her hat also seemed kind of weird, but I tried not to think much of it.

Unfortunately, it seems I wasn’t the only one with a “messed up Julie“. Several subscribers complained (some even threatened to stop subscribing) and the staff officially addressed the situation, explaining that it had to do with the sealing method the company uses. You can get the full story here:

http://blog.japancrate.com/blog/2016/09/16/julie-plush-from-septembers-doki-doki-crate

With this, I really hope Julie isn’t a rejected character. She’s too precious, and I really can’t wait to see more of her!

Pusheen Roulette - The next item was one of several each Subscriber could obtain. There were 2 alternate types of socks, this hat, and a cat-eared hat with Pusheen’s face. Right away I will admit some disappointment, but not because of quality (cause its amazing, the hat is so warm!), but because I actually don’t like to wear hats, I don’t think they look good on me. I’m trying to get over this though, and its so snuggly comfy~

(I also wanted to mention, I saw the hats at Claire’s while I was at the mall October/November)

Pusheen Laptop Decal - This was another collab item and pretty much what the name says. It’s a sticker. It’s an adorable sticker though, but I can’t bring myself to use it on anything (because of weird issues I won’t get into). So I added it to my official kawaii sticker collection.

(sorry for old lousy picture, I forgot I was currently washing the shirt when I took these new pictures. I also feel the need to point out the shirt looks ten times bigger in this picture than it actually is.)

Neko no Hajime No Ippo T-shirt - The Doki Doki exclusive featuring four troublesome kittens (so far everyone I know guesses they’re pigs. ONE person guessed they were cats) and “neko no hajime no ippo“ written on the side, meaning “the cat’s first step“.

Shikakui Koneko Coin Purse - Shikakui means “Square”, while Koneko translates as “small cat”. Each Crate has a chance to receive 1 of 8 styles :3 which included: Yellow with happy shut eyes, calico, grey (the one I got), Pink with winking face, White and grey, blue with relaxed eyes, black, and orange.

It’s so cute and little, this is the perfect coin purse~

I kind of wish I got the pink or black one. But this was too precious to be choosy. I don’t actually use it, I will confess, but only because I don’t carry change.

(Unless I find it on the ground, I have that uncanny ability to find dimes and pennies everywhere.)

Monthly Hoppe-chan - The only item I knew about before I got the crate. I’ve been obsessed with Hoppe-chan for the past year or so now, but its nearly impossible to find anything of her (at least for me). Here she cosplays as a kitty with adorable neko ears and tail, accenting them with an adorable deco bow.

To give you guys a close up I carefully undid the box. Hoppe-chan is very soft to the touch, being made of a rubbery material. Her parts are plastic deco bits, while the cheeks are adorned with gems. I can’t really bring myself to unwrap her and string her up for her intended purposes though.

Hoppe-chan is so cute and little~!

Okay Cuties, here we go. We’re at the rating part of the Review!

Quality - Besides the messed up Julie I thought the products were wonderful. I saw nothing that looked dirty or stained, no strings out of place. The items are very well made. 4 out of 5.

Content - 6 items for about thirty dollars. I felt like this particular box might not have been worth that price, considering the tiny “throw-ins” like a keychain sized coin purse and sticker. I think if asked how much I would pay for this, I’d say 15 to 20 dollars. 3 out of 5.

Practicality - For anyone else this is a no brainer. A shirt, a hat/socks, a coin purse. But for me specifically... I don’t use the purse, nor do I wear the hat (although it does come in handy when I’m bedridden). I actually don’t use anything in the box, but I do love it. I’m remaining unbiased here though, so 5 out of 5. 

Total RANK - 12 out of 15 Cuties!