#I thought I wouldn’t have enough yarn

[cozygoblin]

The spur hat that has been done for a while now I just couldn’t get a nice photo of it 🙈

#spurhat #I thought I wouldn’t have enough yarn #so I started decreasing early #but I think I would have made it #knitting #knit #knitblr #handmade #kötés #knitters of tumblr #yarn #crafts #patterns #cute #beanie #knittedhat #knittedbeanie #knitted #hand knitted

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 9] Gender Reveal

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji does everything in his power to win you back, and lately it seems that he can only do that with things that are baby related. Your second ultrasound comes up, and it’s when you finally find out the sex of your baby. It’s fair to say that you’re over the moon with this, and Toji wouldn’t say it but he’s already really excited about this. 

He’s becoming a father again, and even though he said he never wanted another baby, he’s just thinking about another chunky baby who he can be overly affectionate with, with no judgment. Maybe Toji isn’t all that affectionate, but he did love kissing Megumi’s chubby little cheeks while nobody was looking. It was just the best feeling in the world for him. One of the perks of being a father.

Toji suggested you do a small gender reveal party since he looked up online ways to surprise your pregnant wife, and that popped up. He asked Shiu for some help with setting it up, and that’s what he’s doing tomorrow. Toji is doing everything in his power to get on your good side. He’ll do just about anything to win you back, even if it’s just a stupid little party that he wouldn’t throw if you were on good terms.

“Megumi! Come here!” Toji yells from the couch. He has his reading glasses on, blue yarn on his lap while he waits for his son to get to the living room. He’s about to yell Megumi’s name again because the teenager is taking too long, but he finally comes out. He furrows his brows in confusion as he looks at his dad. “Put a knitting video on the Youtube. I want to do something.”

“What are you trying to do, old man?” Megumi asks, grabbing the remote of the smart TV and begins to type what his father wants him to put on.

“I’m your dad, don’t call me old man.” Toji scoffs, and that’s not a good enough argument for Megumi so he will keep calling Toji an old man. “I’m trying to knit a blanket for your baby brother.”

“You’re trying to… What?” Megumi is even more confused than before. Since when does Toji do this– Toji isn’t sentimental nor fluffy enough to do this. Megumi knows his dad better than anyone, and he’s sure that he has to call an exorcist because his father has been possessed by a… Cutesy demon. 

“What?! I’m trying to be a good dad and this is how you treat me! For your information, I helped your mother out with your baby blanket and I want to do the same for my second son!” Toji raises his voice, and that’s the father that Megumi knows. Megumi immediately knows that his father only watched over as his mother made his blanket, but it’s nice to see his father trying since when he shared the news of your pregnancy, Toji didn’t look all that excited. 

“Son? I thought we had the gender reveal party tomorrow.” Megumi asks, and Toji lets out a chuckle. 

“I know I’m having a son, I know better than anyone my seed-” Toji begins and when Megumi gets an idea of what his father is about to say, Megumi covers his ears.

“Oh that’s so gross! I’m leaving.” Megumi puts on the video that his father requested before throwing the remote on the couch and leaving. Toji lowers his glasses to focus on the TV. Why the hell is he fucking doing this again? This looks like he’s going to be hell.

It’s for his son, right… And to make you happy, and show you that he cares.

You felt odd when Toji suggested you do a gender reveal for your baby, but regardless you agreed. It’s nice to see him care about what’s going on, and see that he’s finally let go of the idea of using the baby as a means to get back together and he genuinely cares about the baby now. Toji genuinely seems… excited, if that’s the right word for it.

The small gathering is at Toji’s apartment, and it’s no more than five people. Excluding you, Toji and Megumi, of course. Shiu is in charge of the reveal, so of course he’s invited, and along are some friends that both you and Toji have. 

You’re not all that excited about the gathering, although you can say that you’re happy with the idea that he came up with. It’s thoughtful, you think. Especially from him. You try not to think that he has any ill intent behind his actions. Your Toji wouldn’t. But then again, maybe you don’t know Toji as much as you think you do.

You wear a cute pink dress that accentuates your growing bump. It’s definitely more noticeable now since you’re five months along. At first you felt a bit insecure about it, but you’ve grown to love it. You take every chance to show it off. You grow more and more impatient with each passing day.

You hope that any and all questions are about your pregnancy, and not about the fact that you and Toji aren’t together anymore. A lot of questions have come up, but you manage to dismiss them every time since you’re just talking through the phone. You’re not sure how you’ll handle it in person though, you just know that you’re not really in the mood to talk much about… Anything that’s not baby related.

“Hi, Megumi.” You smile at the teenager that opens the door for you, allowing you inside Toji’s apartment. You notice his pink shirt, one that matches the color of your dress.

Maybe you read the time wrong because when you enter, everyone that was invited is inside. It feels as if the spotlight is on you as you walk in, and it feels nothing short than awkward. They’re all your friends, and they want to approach you, but before they can, Toji walks over to you. Toji hugs you before caressing your bump, and kissing your cheek, which maybe you should call him out on but you don’t want to really say it in front of everyone, and maybe you don’t mind it as much as you should. 

You notice his blue shirt and you smile at him, slightly tilting your head to the side before asking, “You still think it’s a boy?”

“I know it’s a boy.” Toji says, causing you to chuckle. Toji doesn’t want to let go of you, but you feel all eyes on you, plus you have to greet your friends. You’re sort of the star of the show.

“Give her some space. She doesn’t want you all over her right now.” Shiu stops Toji from following you around. Toji frowns, but decides to listen to his friend. Instead, they begin to set out the cake that Shiu got, making sure everything is ready for the big reveal.

Toji keeps his eye on you, cringing at everyone that puts their hand on your bump. You seem to be fine with it, so he shouldn’t really care but he still does. After maybe ten minutes, he clears his throat and suggests, “Should we do the reveal?”

“I haven’t even gotten to eat anything yet.” You respond. You’re dying to know the sex of the baby though, so you stand up to walk to the table where the cake is. You want a girl, but you wouldn’t mind having a baby boy either– Toji swears that it’s a boy though, he has sworn it since your last ultrasound.

“You can eat something after. Let’s get the main event going.” Toji sounds impatient, maybe because he’s tired of you talking to other people that aren’t him. He thinks that after the reveal you’ll be by his side, not thinking that everyone will want to talk to you even more.

“You also think it’s a boy, Shiu?” You ask the man who wears a blue shirt, similar to Toji’s, as you grab the knife to cut the cake. You’re convinced it’s a boy at that moment because Shiu knows the gender of the baby. He ends up shrugging.

“Ignore his ugly ass, let’s get this going. Come here if you want to see!” Toji yells, growing even more impatient. He just wants to confirm that it’s a boy and kick everyone out– Except you, he wants you all to himself. 

“We’re not in a rush, Toji.” You tell him as you take a finger to taste some of the frosting on the cake. You make sure everyone is gathered around, before telling Toji to grab on to the knife as well so you can cut through it together. You cut through the cake, and Toji gets the biggest smile on his face when he sees the blue icing inside the cake. He makes sure everyone sees it, and he has to announce,

“It’s a boy! What did I say?!” Toji makes sure everyone hears that he was, in fact, right. Toji then engulfs you in a hug, kissing your forehead and all over your face again and again. You smile, hugging Toji back. All eyes are on you, and you know they’re confused as to why he’s so affectionate with you, and you’re wondering the same thing. But you understand he’s happy about his baby boy, and so are you.

“Um…” Shiu clears his throat, and Toji rolls his eyes. Why does Shiu want to ruin this sweet moment? Toji doesn’t pull away from the hug, glaring at Shiu. Shiu bites down his bottom lip before saying, “They got the color wrong. You two are having a baby girl.”

“Huh?” Both you and Toji respond in unison, but there’s a huge smile on your face while Toji is just… Confused. You were happy with a boy, of course, but you really wanted a baby girl.

“You’re messing with me, right?” Toji asks, refusing to let go of you. You’re expecting for a frown or a look of disappointment to spread across his face, but it doesn’t. He looks confused… Worried.

“No, man. You’re having a girl.” Shiu confirms, and you feel awkward. You poke Toji’s cheek and he looks down at you. You smile at him before telling him,

“Cheer up. I know you don’t like to be wrong–” You begin but Toji interrupts you. He kisses your forehead.

“I’m happy.” He reassures you, and it sounds sincere. He’ll just need some time to get adjusted to the idea of having a baby girl.

You end up serving the cake, giving a slice to everyone before getting your own and taking a seat beside a friend. Toji doesn’t really care to eat a slice of the cake, what he cares for is pulling Shiu off to the side. Shiu tries to eat his slice, and Toji almost slaps Shiu’s hand. Shiu clears his throat before asking, “What?”

“Really? What? You had one job and you fucked it up. Now I look like a fucking asshole that’s more excited about having a boy than a girl.” Toji begins, and Shiu shrugs. It wasn’t his fault, maybe Toji should’ve reacted differently. “Are you trying to ruin my chances of getting back with my wife or what? I swear, I’ll kill you.”

“It was an honest mistake, Toji. Stop overreacting.” Shiu says before walking away, making Toji let out the biggest sigh. He looks over at Megumi, who seems to be happy with the fact that he’s having a baby sister, he should be at the very least since he’s wearing a pink shirt.

Toji takes a deep breath before walking over to you, taking a seat beside you, joining you and your friend. She doesn’t mean to pry but she can’t help but ask, “Are you two–”

“None of your business.” Toji cuts her off before she can even get the question out, which you’re thankful for. The answer is no, you’re not getting back together but you don’t want to talk about it. You also don’t want to talk about how overly affectionate your ex-husband is with you, and how you don’t call him out on it because you like it.

“So… How do you two feel about having a girl?” Your friend asks, and you smile, putting your hand on your bump.

“Excited. I wish for a healthy baby above all but I really want a girl.” You answer. “How about you, Toji?”

“I’m excited as well.” Toji doesn’t really sound excited though. He’s more worried, he doesn’t know how to raise a girl– But right now he keeps thinking of the baby blanket that he needs to start over. Thankfully, he didn’t get too far with it.

#toji x y/n #toji zenin #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #daddy toji #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fanfic #toji fic

[bettysupremacy]

heyyy. I saw you saying you would write for tasm peter and because it’s officially autumn I would love to request him giving reader his sweater and loving on her idk maybe after their second or third date or establish relationship, what ever you like better<3 :))

Hi! Sorry I didn’t get to this sooner, this past month has been hectic for me. I hope u like!! <3

The rollercoaster in front of you swishes past quickly, blowing cold air towards you and Peter. He flinches, shaking with the chills that raise on his covered arms. He takes a moment to look at you. Your arms are not covered. It’s early October, chilly in the morning and less so during the day, you hadn’t thought the need for a jacket.

“Are you cold?” He asks suddenly.

You startle. “What?”

“You’re shivering,” He laughs, and then frowning. “babe.”

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” He drags, though there’s a small smile on his face.

“I’m serious!” You laugh. “I’m good!”

You share a look, pointed and faux serious. He tugs at his sweater gently raising his eyebrows in question. You shake your head no and he pulls it up anyways, dragging along the nice fabric of his tee shirt. His stomach shows slightly, just long enough for you to catch a sliver of skin, and the wind to nip it meanly. He tugs it over his head roughly, messing up his hair. It’s not like he needed it, his spider senses regulating his body like a heat lamp, but he has the decency to shiver a little when you look his way.

The sweater is thick, and nice. Peter got it from a gift shop a few years ago, so not of the highest quality, but the graphic pattern of yarn makes you smile anyways. It’s warm like a hug, engulfing you thickly as he pulls it over your head.

“Better?” He asks.

You smile, fiddling with the sleeve. You’re definitely still cold, the warmth of his sweater failing to reach your legs, but still. You have the decency to play warm. “Yeah.”

“I knew it!” He pulls you into him, wrapping his arm around your back so he can rub some friction into your arm. “You don’t have to suffer.” He kisses your temple. “‘Specially not in silence.”

You and him have shared 1, 2, maybe three kisses, but this one feels more intimate, more personal. It’s not on the lips, sure, but it tingles as his lips leave your skin. Pulling back, his eye rake over you.

“Sorry.” You murmur.

“Don’t be sorry,” His eyes scrunch as he looks back up up to your eyes. “What’re you sorry for silly?”

You pause, settling with a shrug. You don’t really know.

“See.” He breathes through his nose. “And it’s not like I wouldn’t kill to see this.”

“You don’t have to kill to see me.”

“I would.”

“That’s silly.”

“I don’t think it is.”

You breathe out heavily, fighting a shy smile. You’re way past the shy phase, but still. Sometimes it peeks through.

“Peter would kill to see me.”

“He would.”

“In an old Spider-man sweater?”

The smile on his face is an inside joke, something you can’t decipher. “My most favorite sweater.”

“Take a picture.” You laugh.

He reaches for the camera around his neck. “Good idea.”

“No,” You murmur with a smile, reaching for his camera. Your eyes flit to the people around you. “no, stop, I was kidding.”

He pulls away from you. “Let me get a photo.”

“Stop,” you giggle breathlessly and hushed as your hands come up to push his down. “I wasn’t serious.”

“But I was.” He smiles. You scoff, tugging him closer to the moving line.

“I can’t stand couples.” Somebody groans behind you.

#spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #tasm peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fic #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter fluff #tasm fanfiction

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lost 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

When your shift ends, you leave the shop, heading down the same way you came. You stop at the corner of Mason and think better of going that route. You take that man’s advice and go along Doxtator instead. It’s quieter, there aren’t as many businesses so not as many people loitering and tossing cigarette butts.

You come up to the shared house and enter through the side door as usual. You wouldn’t call it routine yet, you haven’t been there long enough, but a ripple of deja vu comes over you. You keep your head down as you enter the kitchen. As you do, there’s another person in there.

You don’t know if you should say hello. You haven’t seen this man before. He must be one of the others. He pulls a box of rice crackers out of the cupboard and ignores your presence. You follow his lead and don’t say a word as you set your bag on the counter and pull out the drawer. You write your name on the few items you got from the store before you left; a box of cereal, a carton of milk, and some packets of ramen.

You put it all away as the other resident traipses off down the hallway, shuffling footsteps reverberating off the shabby walls. You shut the fridge as you hear the outside door open and shut. As you turn, the other man enters; the big one with the shaggy hair. S as you think of him.

He nods at you as you fold up the paper bag and shove it in the bin. He goes to the cupboard and opens the door. He sighs and takes out the same box of crackers as the last man. He shakes it and tuts. You see then the S marked on the side.

You leave, not wanting to get involved. You feel bad that someone else took his food but you also don’t need the drama. You hate conflict. At least now, you know to watch your things. Maybe later you’ll sneak out and retrieve your ramen so you can preserve a few meals.

You’re not very hungry. Your appetite is sparse these days. Maybe it’s this place. You can’t quite settle in, maybe because you hope it’s only temporary. Yet, you can’t say if that’s because you’re holding onto hope that by some miracle you could go back to your former life or that you might even forge a new one.

You lock the door and turn on the standing lamp. You fold your coat over the metal frame of the bed and sit to untie your shoes and peel off your socks. You change into a loose pair of sweatpants and a plain tea with a Pepsi logo on it. Not your clothes, another set of charity tatters.

You lay down and stare at the wall. You used to have a television in your room. You’d watch the old sitcoms they replayed on the public access channel. Or you’d listen to music and knit something. You had at least a dozen scarves more than you needed. You might be able to afford some needles and yarn after your first pay.

The cone of light casts a low haze through the tight space. Your eyes slowly close as thoughts of shutting off the lamp fade into your subconscious. You’re asleep before you can feel yourself drift off.

🚪

You wake to a strange sound. Your eyes flick open to the yellow lamplight as you lay stiffly on your back. You groan as your cramped muscles tug. You stretch and the bed frame creaks with your movement.

The scratching continues. You’re not surprised. You would expect mice in a place like this. There were some at the shelter too. They mostly left you alone, just skittered by as they searched out crumbs.

It gets louder as you sit up, tilting your head as you try to loosen the knot between your shoulders. You stand slowly, daunted by the pang across your hips. The mattress is thin and you can feel the frame on the other side.

“I know you’re awake, sweetie,” the voice startles you as it slips beneath the door. You stop your arm midreach as you go to click off the lamp. You peek over and see the shadow shift under the door. “Sweetie? I can see your light’s still on, why don’t you open the door?”

You don’t know the voice. It’s pitchy and uneven. The sickening tune behind it makes your stomach wrench. You stay far from the door as the handle jiggles, the deadbolt keeping it from opening.

“Sweetie. I just wanna talk. You don’t have to open the door. Just talk to me…”

You hug yourself and gulp. There were men in the shelter who tried to talk to you, the ones who got too close, who would stand over you while you slept. You were lucky they went away when they were caught.

There’s another shift and the floorboards groan. You hear an odd scuff and see something slide beneath the door slowly. Little by little. It’s a hand mirror, just thin enough to fit. Oh my god.

“Sweetie, I wanna know your na–”

The click of a mechanism and the grind of hinges interrupt your unwanted visitor. The mirror stills and the floor creaks again. You chew your lip as you listen with bated breath.

“Oh, hi,” the same voice greets someone.

“Go,” the deep voice orders gruffly.

“You can’t make me–”

“What are you doing out here?” The other man asks. You recognise S’s timbre.

“N-nothing. I live here too. I can be in the halls,” the strange man responds.

“I’m trying to sleep.”

“I wasn’t making noise.”

There’s a pause. Footsteps follow, getting closer, and you hear the squeaky voice utter a ‘no’ as the mirror wiggles slightly then is kicked further inside, scuttling over the floor.

“What the hell?” S growls, “you leave her alone.”

“I wasn’t bothering her–”

“I know what you were doing. I know who you are. What you are. So go before I crush you like the worm you are,” S’s words make even you shrink in fear.

“Ha, you think you deserve her. Because you look like you do,” the other man accuses, “you don’t scare me.”

“I don’t care if I scare you, I’ll break you in half if I see you at her door again,” S sneers and there’s a thump on the door, followed by an ‘oomph’. “Got it?”

“Got… it,” the breathy hiss chokes out, “let me go.”

A sudden scramble of footsteps, as if thrown off balance, clatter across the floor. They continue, quicker and quicker until you can’t hear them. You hear a sniff, then a sigh. A shadow appears at the bottom of the door.

“Hope you’re okay in there,” S says, “I’ll keep an ear out for that creep.” He pauses as if waiting for an answer but you can’t find one past the hammer of your heartbeat, “have a good night.”

The floor groans with his weight as he retreats and his door gently clasps. You can’t move. You lean into the wall and let your legs fold as you slide down onto your bottom. You’ll leave the light on for tonight. You don’t think you can face the dark.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #nomad!steve #drabble #series #the lost #avengers #captain america #mcu #marvel

[booksndpoetry]

The Gratitude Series

A Lee Minho Fanfic

Prequel to "A Modern Love Story"

WC : 2.8k words

Pairing : Lee Minho X Fem reader

Genre : Fluff

Triggers/Warnings : Repetitions of two particular words and mentions of brownies; read at your own risk of temptation

A/N : This was inspired by my own conversations with my friends when they told me to stop thanking them. I hope each of you who reads this, gets someone who'll thank you from the bottom of their heart.

m.list

“Some days I adore you a little more than a human being can adore” – Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Vera

To Lee Minho, you were an enigma of sorts. You were like a ball of yarn, threaded with your secrets. And he was the cat, ever curious. Each thread that unravelled, satiated his curiosity, until he wanted more. Until he knew it was never going to be enough. It was more of a depraved hunger than anything, but you didn’t have to know that. 

i. 

Minho had always considered his part-time job as a barista at the local café just as a way to spend his time wisely and earn some money. He did not expect the best people to be the customers, nor did he think the café was particularly interesting. It just…..was.

But that was his opinion before you came into the café. 

The first time he’d seen you, you had ordered a milkshake and sat down at one of the tables, book in hand, the nearly empty café a reflection of your quiet, poised state.

When he’d come to serve your milkshake, you’d stopped reading your book, the original volume of Howl’s Moving Castle he’d observed, as he approached you.

You read his name off his name tag, gifted him, a complete stranger back then, a dazzling smile and said “Thank you.” with the calmest voice he’d ever heard. 

He had been surprised. Not because you’d thanked him, more so because you stopped what you were doing just to acknowledge him and thank him, face to face. 

He hadn’t known what to do. Receiving thanks or compliments had always been awkward for him.

 And so he gave away his embarrassment with the tips of his ears glowing red, muttering something incoherent in reply, and your smile had become a little bit wider. 

Just a little bit, but he’d noticed it. 

That is how he remembers his first encounter with you, with him completely flustered by you and your bright smile. 

ii. 

After you had left the café that day, he had come in extra early to work every day, in hopes of catching you if you were an early riser. But to no avail. 

After two days, he thought himself stupid. He barely knew you. And you would’ve probably forgotten his name, he reasoned with himself. 

Still, his nights were filled with thoughts of you. He thought long and hard about you. 

Did you thank everyone that way? Or was it just him you thanked that way?

He had hoped, foolish as it was, that it was the latter. 

Had you found him attractive and hence given him your attention?

The question wasn’t entirely baseless. Lots of people frequented the café just to flirt with him. But he knew that it wasn’t the case, he would have remembered you if you’d come there before.

Would you come back again? Would he see you again? 

And so, he’d tossed and turned. He couldn’t get his mind off you.  

The two days turned into four weeks and the study group he was in at University, had set up a meeting at the music club. 

When he’d asked Chan, the person who had organized everything, why they hadn’t set up the meeting in the University’s large library, the latter had unashamedly said that the library wouldn’t allow food in and hence the spot was selected. 

Even on the walk to the meeting, Minho rolls his eyes. 

The library would have been much quieter. With no rules to maintain silence, he had no idea how to protect his ears from his group of extremely loud friends.  

He arrives minutes before the meeting. The tiny room was packed and he was already assessing the number of decibels emitted from the inside. 

Taking a breath, he pushes the door open and walks inside. The entire study group had assembled for the first time, and there were a lot more people than he’d expected. 

As soon as he sits down, Chan who had been chatting with someone next to him, turns and greets Minho. Minho nods in acknowledgement, looking away and that’s when he sees you for the second time. 

You sit in a corner of the room, nose deep in a book, just like the first time he’d met you.

Today, you’re decked up in a long winter coat, and a lemon-coloured scarf wrapped around your neck.

Just like the first time, you’re smiling as you read your book.

Just like the first time, you manage to take his breath away.

And just like the first time, he doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to do. 

Despite that, he knows that he might not have a chance to see you again and thus, musters up all his courage and approaches you, which is exactly when Felix decides to announce that he brought brownies for everyone. Minho has to clamp his mouth shut to stop a groan from escaping him. 

Great, he thinks, now he would never ever have a chance with you again and he would die an old cat gentleman.

Even in his head, he thinks it sounds ridiculous. He reminds himself not to hang out too much around Hyunjin. The dramatics were rubbing off on him. 

Shaking his head, he goes back to retake his seat when he notices Felix distributing scrumptious looking brownies (that he knew were delectable) to the large group of people, by himself.

He also notices another box, and maybe it is because he’s gotten so used to serving people, he takes the box up and starts distributing brownies to the other table.

Felix offers him a cheery thanks and Minho just waves him off. 

When he gets to your table, Minho holds his breath. He expects you to have forgotten him, but you lift your head and say,

 “Hey, Minho right? We meet again.” 

and all the practice he’s given himself goes down the drain. Clearing his throat, he pretends he isn’t affected by the fact that you remember his name, and extends a brownie towards you. You look at his outstretched hand and take the brownie, and just as he’d predicted, you look up at him, still smiling, and gift him a:

“Thank you.”

 He’s just as bothered, with the base of his neck going red at the words. However, in a burst of courage, he’s taking a chance with you just to lengthen the conversation. 

“I’m not the one who made them, Felix did.”, he informs you and you tilt your head slightly. 

“I know, I’ll thank him later.”, you reply, “I’m thanking you now.” 

“Why?” he asks. He doesn’t know, why you did it. He wanted to know. 

“Because”, you say, your words slow and deliberate, like you had all the time in the world,

“you could have let him distribute them to everyone, all the thirty five students, all by himself. It wouldn’t have been a big deal. But you chose to help him and give some of us a brownie, when you could’ve eaten yours first. So, thank you.” 

He’s stunned. Both by the sincerity of your words and the honesty you delivered them with. 

For a moment he stands there, absorbing your words. Before he can respond, one of them asks if they can have one more cupcake and he gets to his senses. You smile and wave him off. 

The second time too, he thinks, was just as delightful as the first. 

Maybe Chan chose the right spot after all. 

iii. 

Slowly, Minho eases his way into your life until you’re both latched together, like two sides of the same coin. He makes you milkshakes even when he’s not in the café and you smile and thank him for it, every time. 

He’s grown used to your words of gratitude, but he knows that you don’t throw the words around lightly. So, he makes space in his heart for all your thank yous, and slowly learns how to respond to them too. 

He wonders whether it is because you two aren’t close yet, that perhaps you feel the need to thank him for every little thing. He shrugs it off, feeling like you might stop your adorable habit once you fully get to know him. 

But mostly, he wants you to stop looking at him and smiling at him like he’s the candle burning on your desk at dusk, the only source of light when you need it. Because, he feels like it might never be enough when he falls for you. 

It was so easy to fall in love with you, your entire existence a balm to his soul effortlessly. 

He thinks about it then, when he jogs to get you your water bottle from your bag, placed at the very end of the basketball court you were running in to get your daily laps in. 

Just as he’d predicted, you tell him: 

“Thank you.” 

His chest feels too tight, like he’s been running for an hour, when he’s only been jogging for twenty minutes. 

He wants you to stop. 

He wants you to tell him those words for the rest of his life. 

Minho feels like collapsing in the middle of the basketball court, to hit his head hard enough. Just so he can stop this heady feeling from consuming him whole. 

iv. 

Minho feels himself flying in love with you. Why? Because he sees you are already in love with him too. 

It’s unmistakable in the way your eyes search for him whenever he comes into a room.

It’s in how you always try to say yes to all his plans even though he tells you it’s okay if you feel otherwise.

It’s in the way you smile at him, something only for him to see.

But mostly, he knows it because of your eyes. Your eyes light up at his arrival, and they are transparent pools of your love for him, as clear as daylight.

And that, he learns, makes all the difference. 

v. 

Before you, Minho had a hard time trusting words. 

Why?

Because they were grand and promising at first, but empty if they weren’t followed by true actions. 

Most of the people early in his life only talked and talked, empty words with thoughts of what could’ve been, except they never were. 

But with you, Minho knew they were true to their meaning.

 He’d seen you bear the weight of them when you stayed behind for two hours in class to help a failing classmate.

He’d seen you fulfil them when you stayed up for hours writing something for the highest grade you had ever gotten, even if it was for extra credit.

He sees you stay true to them when you call your mom every single day like you’d promised, and when you call him without fail each time you go to the department store to ask him if he wants something. 

All he sees is you. 

You were an exception to his every agenda, every single time. 

He has no complaints. 

vi. 

One week before the finals, you're holed up in your room, ignoring all his calls, and Minho knows what's up. 

Your Psychology exams are what’s up. 

He drops by to your place and lets himself in, shoes placed in your shoe stand, just the way you do it. Going in, he gives a shout to let you know of his arrival. You holler something back & he takes it that you know.

Wandering to the kitchen, he spots a fruit bowl. Thinking that you could use a snack after all the studying you've done, he takes a few oranges from it and heads to your room. 

The sight of you hunched over your desk, buried in your books, your glasses barely hanging off your nose is what greets him.

 For a moment, all of it ceases to exist except him and his thoughts and you.

 He'd read all about the pinings of writers and poets who'd sworn that their lovers and muses were capable of taking their breath away at any time, even when they might look unflattering to the rest of the world.

 Minho had disagreed. One had to look unpresentable when they were buried in work and gave no thought about maintaining their appearance, right? 

 Wrong.

 He's rendered wrong. 

So, so, wrong. 

Because the sight of you then, bare-faced and bespectacled, puckered lips and furrowed eyebrows elicits an emotion he doesn't know how to name.

It's strong, this little feeling and every time you purse your lips or scrunch your nose, it grows stronger. He doesn't know what to do with the stubborn feeling, but he knows it's there to stay.

You were so engrossed in your reading that it took you a good three minutes to find out Minho was in the room.

After you do though, you abandon your textbook on the study desk and turn your attention to Minho. 

“Oh hey. Need something?” 

He chuckles, running a hand through his silky, wine-red strands as he takes you in fully, eyes subtle but greedy in their perusal of you.

 “I should be the one asking you that, you being buried in work and all.”

He gestures to your growing pile of papers, notes, and books. 

You let a whine in response.

“Don’t remind me of that. I’m taking a break. Seriously, I don’t get why I need to know the names of all the medical records used in the world. How am I supposed to treat other people, when I myself am slowly going insane?” 

You punctuate your rambling by sinking further into your chair until it shakes. 

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. But he does know how to make you feel better, that’s one thing he prides himself in. 

Coming to stand in front of you, he slowly reveals the arm behind his back and flourishes the oranges he’s fetched, like a magician exhibiting a miracle. 

You’re a magician of your own, giving away one of your dizzying smiles that he can see in his head for days on end. 

He slowly sits down on the floor, and starts peeling an orange. You join him and reach for one, but he swats your hand away. You frown, but abandon all thoughts of oranges when you remember your assignment, still very much unfinished. 

You abruptly get up, startling Minho out of his trance. He flinches before glaring at you. You cheekily smile down at him. 

“Sorry Min, I have to get this done before nightfall.” 

“Okay.” He says, even as gets up to shove a piece of fruit in your mouth. 

“Mo, yw don undastan-“ 

“Don’t talk while you’re eating.”

You glare at him, but do as he says.  

Even in your disgruntled state, you manage a quiet “Thank you.” 

You know how Minho left the comfort of his home just to come to cheer you up, even when he’s a homebody. And you’re grateful for it; you would’ve holed up in your room until you disintegrated into bits otherwise. 

He just shakes his head. 

Silence prevails in the room for a while, unless interrupted by the clicks of the keyboard and the quiet chewing as he feeds you slices. 

“You don’t have to say thank you to me all the time, y’know?” Minho begins, leaning beside you on your mahogany desk. 

You absently hum and finish typing the sentence. Only then do you fully process his words. 

“Huh?”

“We’re friends now, or at least I think we are. So, you don’t have to thank me for every little thing. It feels like you’re being formal with me.” 

This is the longest you’ve spoken with me, and it’s because of my thank yous. Isn’t that reason enough for me to tell you those words every time? 

The words are at the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down. They weren’t for now, this moment. 

You just exhale and give his head a ruffle. He dodges it, and glares at you, reminding you of his cats.

Your mouth curves upwards. 

“What are the words ‘Thank you’ for then?

I don’t think they exist just for a half-hearted appreciation for someone I barely know.

I think they exist so I can try and convey my gratitude to the people close to me. I won’t ever be able to fully convey the feelings in words, but I can try.

So think of each of my thank yous as a two-word love letter sealed with joy for being in my life.

Is that better?” 

You duck your head down, shy after your sudden outburst of emotion.

I won’t ever be able to convey my gratitude fully, but I can try. 

A two-word love letter sealed with joy for being in my life. 

Good god, he believes you’re an angel at that instant.

You were ethereal in every way, whether that be the way you talked, the way you walked or the way you looked at him with thoughtful eyes, like he was the star in each one of your universes.

No ordinary person could be like that, could they?

He’s at a loss for words, like usual. And that doesn’t surprise you. He was a man of a few words anyway. 

Stealing an orange slice, you get back to work. 

This time, Minho thinks, even the word ‘delightful’ doesn’t cover it. He’s sure that no word can encompass even a sliver of your essence, except maybe the words ‘Thank you’. 

And he hopes that now you’ll let him tell you that every single day. 

© booksndpoetry 2024. All rights reserved. Please do not plagiarise, translate, repost or steal my works in any way. All idols used in this piece are just inspiration to character. They do not reflect the real people in any way.

#+booksndpoetry #straykidsland #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids #skz imagines #stayblr #skz lee minho #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #lee minho x y/n #skz fluff #fluff #lee know fluff #writing #lee know #friends to lovers #writeblr #and shes done #im kind of proud of how this fic turned out #please give it lots of love

[kingkatsuki]

— need

It took me way too long to write something for this man, but he has me completely deranged.

I was originally keeping this idea for Bakugou but somehow Tamzy just fit better.

Pairings: Tamzy Caines x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, non-con/dub-con, sex pollen, dirty talk, fingering, Tamzy ties you up, choking, Tamzy cums untouched.

Word Count: 2.2k.

“Please, help me Tamzy.” Your voice is choked and desperate as you look up at him with wide eyes. Your hand trapped between your thighs as you grind on your palm beneath your skirt.

Tamzy’s panicking now, wide eyes look back towards the door as he keeps his mask firmly over his face to protect from the pink toxins that now float through the air. The Vandal and their jinki move fast enough to escape, but it wasn’t fast enough to protect you from the after effects.

“Where’s your mask?” Tamzy pushes, rushing over to you as you practically hump your hand. Nose scrunched in irritation as it does little to satiate the throb between your thighs.

“It’s not enough.” You whine pitifully, ignoring his question as Tamzy stops in front of you. Chancing pulling off his mask when the rest of the air dissipates as he cups your cheek in a palm. You’re burning up—

“You gotta help me, Tamzy.” You push, and your smaller hand reaches up to encircle his wrist, tugging his hand down to your chest to press his palm against your breast.

It’s wrong. He should wait for back up, for the professionals to get here. Enjin would know exactly what to do in this situation, what needs to happen to fix whatever this is. He’s heard of these kinds of aphrodisiac jinki before, listened to Delmon talk about Vandals who ransacked his farm in search of these plants that held amatory properties that held a high price on the black market.

But all of his training couldn’t have prepared him for the unadulterated sight in front of him, and the desperate way you tried to grind your hips against his thigh as Tamzy tried to keep you pinned against the wall. Worried what you might do if you managed to flee the scene to chase your release, or what real creeps that roamed the Abyss could find you at this hour and do god knows what to you. Never mind the Vandal that did this to you in the first place—

It was lucky he’d been the one to find you.

“Tamzy,” There you went saying his name like that again. The desperate, pathetic whine to your tone had him scrunching his nose in irritation as he secretly committed the noise to memory. Something that would fuel his lonely nights as he fists his cock to the thought of you like this for him, “Please, I need you.”

Fuck.

Your reflexes were quick, but he was quicker. Using Tokushin to wind ropes of yarn around your middle to try and keep you subdued, much to your dismay.

“S’not fair,” You sniffle. Your bottom lip juts out and it takes every fiber of his being not to lean forward and kiss you, “You’re always so mean to me, Tamzy.”

God, you had no clue what you were doing to him right now— you couldn’t. Not with the lust jinki clouding your mind and your senses as you rubbed your thighs together to try and alleviate the tension.

He pressed down on his collar to try and contact Enjin again, opening the connection to try and find help. The signal inside the salt cave was almost non-existent, as he tried to decipher Enjin’s voice on the other end. Hoping that by shouting a rough location over the radio waves that he’d be able to find you both on the lower floor.

“It’s okay,” Tamzy murmured, “You’re gonna be okay.”

Tamzy knew these types of jinki weren’t simple to disband. The kind of power that could invade a persons psyche and consume them from the inside out— ceasing their existence if the desire wasn’t satisfied.

But he shouldn’t be the one to help, especially when he already harboured strong feelings for you— it wouldn’t be right. Tamzy couldn’t take advantage of you, especially in such a compromised state. He’d wait for back up to arrive and Enjin would know exactly what to do.

“The others will be here soon,” He spoke calmly, contrasting the way his cock pulsed between his thighs, “They’ll help you.”

“No, no—” You thrashed against his jinki, the binds tightening as they dug into your supple skin, creating dips in the fat of your hips as Tamzy tried to remember to breathe, “I can’t wait that long, you need to help me Tamzy please.”

These jinki were dangerous, if the tension wasn’t eased it would consume you whole. Worse than any poison or toxin that could invade your bloodstream— this was a death sentence if it wasn’t satiated.

“I can’t even touch myself like this,” You huffed in frustration, pathetic tears clung to your lashes as you rolled your hips, “I’m begging you.”

Oh, he was fucked.

That was the nail in his coffin as Tamzy took a step closer to you, “Calm down.”

He only needed to alleviate the tension enough to save you before your friends found you both, just enough to scratch the itch before backup arrived. He could get you off without penetrating you and quell the ache just enough to keep you alive— it would be fine.

Tamzy’s eyes were stoic as he reached forward to cup your molten heat, hissing upon contact when he felt just how wet your panties were. You couldn’t stop the debauched moan from tumbling between parted lips at the sensation, immediately bucking your hips to try and get more.

“Don’t tease me, Tamzy. Please—” He’d never heard you sound so carnal, so desperate before. Wondering if this is always how you sounded when you were in such a precarious position, fingers plunging into your wet cunt when you were alone at night, “Just one finger, please— just one, yeah?”

His cock is damn near painful now, straining against his boxers as it leaks copious amounts of pre. Trying to ignore the throb as deft fingers tug your panties to the side, gliding through your slick as he nudges your puffy clit.

“Just one.” He repeats. As though he’s trying to fool himself that this is okay.

“Yeah, yeah. Just one.” You babble, “Please, Tamzy. I can’t take anymore— it hurts.”

Tamzy tries to ignore the persistent pulse in his crotch as his hard cock strains against his boxers, pre coats the fabric as he shuffles his legs to try and alleviate the tension. Directing his focus to you as his fingers push through your messy slick, parting your labia as he meets resistance.

“Oh, fuck.” Your chest heaves as Tamzy’s fingers find your tight entrance, blunt nails drag against the sensitive skin as he feels you flutter around him. Desperately trying to pull him deeper inside your silky depths as he revels in how tight and warm you are, “Put them in Tamzy, please.”

Every time you murmur his name so desperately it has his cock pulsing in response, dipping a solo finger inside your warmth as he immediately feels your walls cling to him. Your hips jerk as much as they could whilst subdued by his jinki as you pathetically try to fuck yourself on his finger.

“More, Tamzy, please.” You choked, “I think I’m going insane.”

“You said one.” He counters, watching the way your hips swish against him as you desperately try to coax him in.

“I know, I know,” You whine pitifully, “But you feel so good, Tamzy. I need more—”

If you were insane, he was damn near delirious as he slipped another finger in to join the first. Immediately curling them towards the spongy spot inside you as he focused his ministrations against it. Pumping his digits with skilled precision as dark eyes focused on your face to gage your reaction.

“Is this okay?” He rasps lowly, and your cunt throbs in response. He steps closer to push his fingers deeper, adding a third when he feels a lack of resistance that has you keening in satisfaction.

“Feels so good,” You pant, chest heaving as you grind your clit against his palm, biting down on your bottom lip hard enough that the metallic taste of blood coats your tongue.

All the nights he’d fucked his fist to the thought of you couldn’t compare to this. Your head knocks against the dirty brick wall as you thrash in his grip, your smaller hand fights against his yarn to reach out to grope his crotch and Tamzy is certain that his last minuscule piece of resolve has crumbled. A deep, guttural grunt spills from his lips and he can’t stop his hips from jerking into your touch. His sweaty forehead knocks into yours as he does everything he can to keep you pinned against the wall as he continues fucking three of his fingers into your sloppy cunt. If this is how tight you are for three, he wonders how you’d feel if you took his cock—

The scent of you potent in the air as his fingers continue to crudely squelch inside your dripping cunt, drooling into his palm and down his wrist as he sets a steady pace.

“I want your cock so bad, Tamzy.” You breathe out, your voice hoarse as he fucks his fingers into your needy hole.

“Behave.” Tamzy growls, certain you’re trying to garner a reaction from him now. And he’s already used up every ounce of resolve he had by keeping you bounded by his jinki.

“Please,” You push, just like you always fucking do, “I’ll be good, I’ll do anything if you give me your cock.”

“Shut up,” Tamzy grunts, pushing the heel of his palm against your clit as you thrash against him.

“Ugh, make me.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth now and it’s all he can do to think about shoving his hard cock inside it.

“You’re filthy.” Tamzy grunts, his palm circling your neck to squeeze at the column of your throat. Pushing your head against the wall as his warm breath fans your face, lips dangerously close to yours.

“‘m not.” You tremble, the lack of oxygen heightens the sensation of his fingers plunging into your tight cunt as he fucks them into you with vigour.

“I beg to differ,” Tamzy speeds his fingers up for emphasis, the crude squelch fills the air as more of your slick seeps out of you, cooling against your inner thighs as he presses the calloused pad of his thumb against your clit to rub messy circles against it, “You’re practically drooling onto my hand.”

“Let me drool on your cock instead.” You quip back.

Tamzy sucks a breath through gritted teeth at your lewd words, hips bucking wildly as he imagines your wet cunt soaking his cock in your essence. The moisture drooling down is length and matting into the messy hairs at the base as he fucks into you, leaving creamy rings around the base of him.

“Stop being a brat.” He grunts, but he’s not sure he wants you to.

This is already more than he should be doing, he should’ve waited for Enjin— and now he’s thinking about sinking his cock inside your wet cunt and spearing you open on him.

“Let me touch you, please? I’ll be good I promise.” He doubts that dearly as he shakes his head, sweat beads at his brow as he tries to ignore the desire building inside him. His resolve close to crumbling as he pictures sinking his throbbing cock into your silky, wet walls.

“I don’t think you will be, sweetheart.” He chastises as he continues his pace, pressing down harder which each forward motion as he pushes you closer to the edge.

“I’m close,” You trembled, your voice vibrating against his hand as it flexed against your windpipe. The coil inside you tight and dangerously close to snapping as Tamzy spend his motions up in response.

Three fingers poised to hit that same spot inside you with each forward motion, certain his pads were pruning from how wet and warm you were. Pressing down against your needy clit hard as he felt the way your cunt began to tighten around him.

“Come on, sweetheart,” He whispered, “Cum for me.”

“Oh my— fuck, Tamzy!” The sound of his name spilling from your lips is debauched, and the desperate wail that follows seals his fate.

His hips jerk clumsily as the tension inside him cuts like a knife, legs wobbling from the unabashed force of his climax as he follows you into bliss. Tamzy moans with you in tandem as he finds his release. Shooting white hot ropes of cum into his boxers that soaks his cock and balls, leaving him sticky and messy as his spunk leaks through his pants. His chest heaves as he gulps in air, hips canting forward as your desperate fingers still reach out to grab for him. Hissing when they make contact against his overstimulated cock, sending fresh aftershocks surging through him.

“I—,” You pant, tears dried in streaky lines down your cheeks as your head lolls to the side, “Did you?”

Tokushin goes lax as Tamzy comes down from his high, freeing you from the binds as you rub at the imprints against your skin. The pink lusty clouds still haze your vision as you blink up at him blearily, your palm reaches out to feel the damp spot against his crotch as Tamzy hisses in response. Still semi-hard as he throbs against your palm, caging your body in against the cave wall as he looms over you.

Oh, he’s certain you’ll be the death of him.

#tw:noncon #trigger:noncon #Tamzy caines x reader #tamsy Caines smut #Tamzy Caines smut #Gachiakuta smut #Tamzy smut #Tamzy x reader #Tamsy Caines x reader #Tamsy x reader

[thesunpersists]

Prompt: “How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?”

Read @mollywog's version here— thank you for the tag! 🧚🏻

Tagging: @evax3, if you are feeling inspired! ❤️

A short story where Katniss attempts to knit a scarf for Peeta. This is set during their growing back together phase (or shortly after the first chapter of The Third Thing, if you will).

Is he really your crush if you don’t knit him an ugly scarf?

My eyes shift between the pattern and the needle in my hand.

Cast on 59 stitches.

I sigh. This is the third time I am doing it. The first time, the yarn tail was too short, and I had to undo the whole thing. The second, I messed up the count midway through and started over. This one has to do. Even if it is 58 or 60 stitches, I can’t bear to do it again.

Row 1: *Knit 3, purl 1.* Repeat * until the last 3 stitches. Knit 3. Turn.

My mother must have been some sort of a genius. There is no other explanation. She always made it look so easy. And she used to make complicated things, intricate designs with checkers and animal patterns and whatnot. All the clothes she made were perfectly sculpted to fit our bodies. She could even hold a conversation while knitting and the nice, steady rhythm of her needles wouldn’t once change. It was so different from the way my needles are squeaking now.

Row 2: Knit 1, purl 1, knit 1. * Knit 2, purl 1, knit 1.* Repeat * until the end of the row.

And when she noticed a mistake, she would unravel row after row without batting an eye. She would even unravel old clothes to repurpose the yarn. Prim and I would help her, one of us winding the yarn while the other ran around the house with a sweater or scarf in hand. It seems almost cruel now, after seeing how much work goes into each individual stitch.

I can see the glaring mistakes already, from the very second row. The ends are too loose, my tension is uneven, and it is a miracle that I haven’t dropped a single stitch yet. Oh, no — there goes the first one. Well, there is no going back. I am not strong enough to undo my hard work.

Repeat rows 1 and 2 until you reach the desired length for your scarf. A scarf’s length should be approximately equal to the height of the person wearing it.

I have a feeling that the desired length and what my patience will allow for will be drastically different. And as if the whole thing isn’t annoying enough, the person who will be wearing it is watching me from the couch across with an amused look on his face.

“What is it?” I snap. “How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like this?”     

Peeta laughs and throws his hands up. “Look at you like what? I am just sitting here.”

“I can feel that you want to laugh!”

“I don’t want to laugh. I just thought you’d be…” he trails off, “I don’t know— good with your hands, I guess. More dexterous. Since you are an archer and all.”

“I am good with my hands!” An inexplicable blush travels up my neck to my cheeks. “This is just new.”

“And what was your talent again?” He scratches his chin as if he is in deep thought. “Oh, it was fashion design, real or not real?”

“Real. But that was my pretend talent. My real talent is hunting,” I remind him. “And I am perfectly capable of it. I don’t see you complain when you’re wolfing down your dinner.”

“Okay,” he laughs, “that’s a low blow. Is this supposed to be a therapy thing, then? Because it doesn’t look relaxing. It looks like you are fighting the needles. And losing.”

“Shut up. Just stop making fun of me.”

Peeta grins. “Or what?”

“Or…” I stop and think for a second. “Or you’ll say goodbye to your new scarf.”

His grin is wiped off his face, and he stares at me. “Wait, is it for me?”

It’s my turn to be surprised. “Of course. Do you think I’d go through this trouble for myself?”

#thank you for the tag! #❤️❤️❤️ #prompt challenge #everlark #everlark fanfiction

[cerise-on-top]

Hank, Sanford and Deimos with a Reader who does Handcrafts

Gonna post my old MadCom stuff since people seem interested in it! I didn't write too much back then, but I'll post it anyway and hope for some MadCom requests as well! What the title says! Reader knits, crochets and embroiders in this! The format is different from how I usually write, but that's because I wrote this months ago, if not in 2022! I don't remember when, but it's been a while since I wrote this!

Hank

If you get his attention while doing one of your crafts, expect him to just stare at you for a while. He knows what knitting is, since you can use those needles to stab someone with enough force, but he never really cared much for any of it. So, seeing you do those small, but precise movements has him somewhat curious. If you beckon him closer to check out what you’re doing, he will approach you, taking your piece from your hands and gently examining it, before returning it to you.

While he won’t join you that often due to his occupation, Hank will lie down next to you from time to time, watching you work until he falls asleep eventually. Doing so next to you, especially when you’re knitting or doing embroidery, takes a lot of trust on his behalf, so it’s a rather rare occurrence, but it might happen. Still, sometimes even Nevada’s most wanted can’t resist getting some sleep in.

If you give him a scarf or anything of the likes it might seem like he doesn’t like it at first. As he only grunts in acknowledgement and doesn’t wear it, it might seem disheartening at first glance. But rest assured, he’s well aware that him wearing it would only get it covered in blood, and he wouldn’t want your creation, that you put so much love into, to get sullied like that. Hank does keep it somewhere hidden where only he can find it so that it won’t get stolen as well, he truly does treasure anything you give him.

Sanford

He has helped his mother crocheting every once in a while when he was young by holding her wool for her. Sanford always thought it to be really cool how you can make something so beautiful out of something as simple as wool and yarn. Much like he did when he was younger, he’ll hold your yarn for you, making it more comfortable to knit or crochet for you. Unlike Hank and Deimos, he will try to learn it as well. It seems relaxing, so why not? But by no means is he a master. Due to his strength, he will likely rip the yarn and wool apart from time to time and come to you for help.

In order to relax and unwind a bit, he’ll likely come to you and ask if you would like to practise your craft for and with him. Having you around in and of itself already makes Sanford happy, but just getting to spend time with you without having to worry about being killed by the enemy makes it all the better. If you let him, he will hold you close, lean into you, put you on his lap, anything you’re comfortable with.

Please give him a sweater. Because he’s never wearing a shirt he gets cold fairly easily. He’ll cherish it dearly and wear it whenever he can, and whenever he knows it won’t get ripped. Another thing he’d be very happy with would be a piece of embroidery. It reminds him of better times and gives him hope, especially when your piece of art is something pleasant and sweet to look at. Because of that, he will put it up somewhere in his room where he can always see it. Even if Deimos makes fun of him for it, he will simply lightly jab at the smoker, all the while smiling at it.

Deimos

He’ll lovingly call you a grandma for having hobbies like these. Even while doing embroidery, where you stab things thousands of times, he will snicker at you whenever he catches you doing any of these things. Though, he doesn’t mind that sort of thing at all since that means you’ll be sitting still for a while, meaning you’ll give him a chance to unwind with him. Deimos will wrap his arms around you, leaning onto you or just cuddle into you in general. No fighting, no getting hurt, just watching you do the same movements over and over again.

Despite possibly calling you boring, he does have great respect for your craft, since he can’t do any of it. It’s too tedious and he can’t sit around for long enough doing something like this. It’s simply not exciting enough. But the moment you give him his first sweater, he will think it’s the most awesome thing to ever exist. Proud as a peacock, he will flaunt and taunt his new piece of clothing, especially to Sanford and Hank, declaring just what a great lover he has.

Present him with a plushie and his mind will be blown. He always thought knitting and crocheting are just for woolly hats and sweaters and scarves and all. If he sees you made him a tiny grunt, he will simply lose it, run around the Status Quo base and show everyone what you’re capable of. It doesn’t even matter to him whether or not it looks good. Your hands are magical to him and absolutely everyone has to know just how cool and epic you are.

#madness combat #madness combat x reader #hank j wimbleton x reader #sanford x reader #deimos x reader #I miss Madness Combat so much y'all have absolutely no idea #I am foaming at the mouth absolutely feral waiting for episode 12 #I desperately need these funny grunt creatures back in my life #I know I said I'd be playing the OG MW games this weekend but in lieu of me getting back into madcom I might replay M:PN #and rewatch the entire series! I could force my friend to watch it with me again! #it'd be the third time I'd be watching it with someone else #I actually talked nonstop for over an hour about Madness Combat to my ex at one point and he didn't even stop me #I had so many theories about it all that seemed to make sense to me but I since forgot them unfortunately #Also did anyone else see the 2B plushies or was I hallucinating those? Because I can't find them on Makeship... #I actually own the Hank Sanford and Deimos plushies #Only 2B is missing at this point and I want him so so bad I love him #I actually had a White Hank plushie custom made as well because she's my absolutel favorite #oh boy I've been rambling here but it shows just how much I love Madness Combat! Such a good show! Phenomenal music too! #I need to give Sanford a hug after all he's been through :(

[slasher-dasher]

White Christmas

︶꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

(trans!Billy Lenz x gn!reader; Warnings: NSFW, eating out [Billy receiving], somnophilia if you squint, ropes, marking/biting)

The door closed surprisingly gently behind you as your foot pushed it shut. Your hands were too preoccupied with bags and boxes to worry about the sleeping figure on the couch for the moment. He must have been waiting for you, not wanting to go to the “mandatory” work party nor be left alone, to the point that he practically begged you to fake an illness so you wouldn’t have to go. You placed the items in your arms on the counters and put the cold things you had stolen for Billy in the fridge as you settled down from the event. Speaking of, he was still being quiet. You crept over to him, carefully pushing a few stray strands of hair away from his eyes. Billy slept on his stomach most of the time, so seeing him splayed out on his back like this was a rare (and beautiful) sight. His arms were crossed behind his head to use as a pillow (despite him laying on two of the throw pillows), head turned to press into the side of his arm. His sweater rose and fell with his gentle breaths and almost hid the slight curve of his waist under the stitches of the yarn. You had made this one for him last year, and it very quickly became his favorite.  The jeans he had fallen asleep in looked uncomfortable, to say the least. They clung to his hips in a way you knew made him uncomfortable, which is probably why he was sleeping on his back. Your hand moved to wake him up, to let him know you were home so he wouldn’t worry, but you stopped yourself. Billy had been good this holiday, and you had promised him a present when you got back.

Billy’s eyes flutter open to the feeling of your lips against his skin. Soft kisses peppered around his face and neck, two of the places you know he’s always comfortable with.  A smile spreads across his lips as he moves to wrap his arms around your neck, but finds them tied behind his head.

“You looked so pretty on the couch, but I thought you’d be more comfortable on the bed,” you spoke between kisses, pressing a deep one to his lips as your hands ran across his thighs. Sleep is still present in Billy’s eyes when you pull away and his body arches into yours instinctively. Good. That’s a sign he’s okay with this. Your lips find their way back to his neck while your hands work on the jeans. Despite looking like paint on him, they slip off with ease, revealing cute Christmas-themed stockings underneath them. Billy let out a soft gasp as the air washed over his skin, the sound turning into a moan once your teeth bit down on a spot that made him writhe. Luckily, he was very easy to work up. Your hands ghosted over his skin while your teeth kept marking his neck. The sweater had stayed on, but you pushed it up to rest just above his stomach, making note of the whine that had escaped Billy’s throat as you did.

“Do you have something to say, pretty boy?” That name made his eyes snap to you, a blush growing across his cheeks.

“You woke me up to tease me,” he pouted, eyes threatening to flutter closed at any second. A chuckle left your lips, and you lowered yourself to trail kisses down his navel. He shuddered, eyes now locked on your movements with anticipation. Billy’s breathing picked up as you got closer to his arousal, whining loudly every time you moved to mark one of his thighs instead. You relented after a particularly desperate squirm, knowing he’d been patient for long enough. The sound that followed was heavenly to your ears. A loud moan erupted from Billy as he arched into your tongue.

“You woke me up to tease me,” he pouted, eyes threatening to flutter closed at any second. A chuckle left your lips, and you lowered yourself to trail kisses down his navel. He shuddered, eyes now locked on your movements with anticipation. Billy’s breathing picked up as you got closer to his arousal, whining loudly every time you moved to mark one of his thighs instead. You relented after a particularly desperate squirm, knowing he’d been patient for long enough. The sound that followed was heavenly to your ears. A loud moan erupted from Billy as he arched into your tongue. His legs were lifted onto your shoulders, tightening almost immediately as your tongue lapped at his growth like you were starving. In a way, you were. He’d been reduced to a moaning mess, head thrown back against the pillows and hips pressed firmly against your face, the legs keeping them there shaking furiously as you slipped your fingers into him with ease. It didn’t take more than a few pumps for him to completely unravel under the pleasure, pulsing around your fingers as he fell limp against the bed. Stray moans left his lips and his breaths were long and labored as his eyes met yours, lips weakly melding into a loving kiss while you untied his wrists.

You cleaned Billy up quickly, grabbing a new pair of pants for him before he could protest. Billy rarely wore anything more than boxers with you now, but a little extra care and clothes wouldn’t hurt for tonight. As you were about to ask if he wanted to be left alone, as he usually did, he tugged you into the bed, snuggling into your chest like you were his lifeline.

“Merry Christmas Billy~” A soft smile and a nod from the other was the only response you were getting tonight. Arms wrapped around each other, legs tangled in a lazy mess, he was at peace.

#get it? bc he's from black christmas #and the white is c- #working on billy headcanons too :3 #op is projecting again #billy lenz #trans!billy lenz #top!reader #bottom!billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #billy lenz x you #black christmas #black christmas 1974 #black christmas 2006 #black christmas 2019 #slasher community #slasher #slasher writer #slashers #slasher fucker #slasher fic #slasher fanfiction #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #slasher x you #fanfic #fic writing #fanfiction #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic

[whispering-ways]

•♡✷ matched hearts (pt. 1) ✷♡•

✷ summary: shinsou downloads a dating app and starts talking to you

✷ pairing: hitoshi shinsou x reader

✷ tags: no warnings, just fluff!

✷ notes: slanted texts indicate actual text messages (purple is shinsou, white is reader) :)

Shinsou wasn’t a big fan of dating apps. He wasn’t even a big fan of talking to the people around him nevertheless new people. It’s not that he didn’t like people, he liked his friends of course, it was just hard to maintain a conversation with people is all.

But seeing all the couples on campus did honestly make him feel a bit lonely, leading him to download Hinge. He honestly never took it seriously; it was fun to swipe through profiles but he never took the time to have any sort of deep conversation with anyone. That is until he saw your profile.

He’d seen you around UA a couple of times and thought you were pretty, but Hinge let him see you in a whole new light. Apparently, you really liked crocheting, which he found interesting because he always wanted to learn how to do it, but never quite found the time to actually learn. You were a huge movie buff which was yet another plus since he was too. You also seemed to be really smart; UA didn’t just choose any old student to be part of the Department of Support after all. Something about you just carried this bright aura that pulled him in. Soon enough he was liking your profile and sending you his best pickup line in hopes of talking to you more.

You’d just gotten home from a long day of tinkering with a new gadget you’d been working on recently when you saw that someone liked your Hinge profile. At first, you were going to ignore the notification; you were way too tired. But even after you took a shower, ate dinner, and took a melatonin gummy, it seemed like you’d never be able to fall asleep. So you opened up Hinge, thinking that if you were going to be up, you might as well look through some profiles.

That’s when you saw that Shinsou liked your profile. You didn’t know him too well, but you had seen him pop into the support department a couple of times. You definitely thought he was cute, but you’d never really gotten a chance to talk to him since he mostly just talked to Mei when he needed repairs. But his pick-up line?

“‘Is your name yarn? Because you’ve got me all tangled up in your stitches’?” you said with a laugh. It was for sure one of the cheesier pick-up lines you’d been told, but still pretty sweet. You thought about it for a second and then decided to reply. I mean it’s not like you were falling asleep anytime soon anyways.

Lol that’s really cheesy, but you’re in luck bc cheesy pick-up lines are my fav :)

After a few minutes, you thought you wouldn’t hear a reply back till tomorrow morning so you started scrolling through Instagram. But after looking through a couple of posts, you saw that Shinsou sent you a reply back.

Haha, well I’m glad you like it. How has your day been?

Its been a little tiring tbh, I’ve been working on this one gadget for who knows how long and I just can’t seem to get it to do what I want it to do lol. How’s yours been?

This time the reply was instantaneous.

Tiring as well. I’ve been doing nothing but training all day today. What sort of gadget are you making?

That surprised you; most people thought making gadgets was boring and didn’t want to know too much about it. But as you gave him more details about what you were building, he seemed genuinely interested. It was refreshing, to say the least. That question lead you both into talking about your careers and the passion he had to be a hero was evident. It was inspiring to see how much he cared about quirks that were looked down on in society. To you, it was certainly admirable and made you want to work harder in your own career.

Shinsou thought your dedication to the support department was amazing. It was good to talk to someone who was equally as ambitious as he was, but not actively trying to be competitive, which was a big issue between students in the hero industry. As the night carried on, the both of you kept texting about anything and everything.

There was just something so comforting and natural when talking to you. It was just simple. Before you two knew it, it was 4 am and you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. You’d felt yourself drifting off a couple of hours ago, but the conversation was just too good for you to end it then. You and Shinsou said goodnight and you hoped that this wasn’t the end of the both of you talking.

When you woke up the next morning after talking to him, you were greeted with a text from Shinsou which immediately put a smile on your face.

Good morning. I hope you have a nice and hopefully less tiring day :)

It was simple, but sweet and lead you both to continue talking throughout the rest of the day. It had been now about three days since your initial conversation and you both had been texting the entire time. Getting texts from Shinsou had now become one of the most delightful parts of the day. Whenever you saw a notification from him, you felt a wave of giddiness flood through you.

Shinsou, although he didn’t want to admit it, also found himself grinning at your daily texts. Every time he heard the chime of his notifications, he secretly hoped it was you texting him back. And while he knew he shouldn’t be so quick to answer, he couldn’t help texting you back instantaneously. You were one of the only people he enjoyed talking to after all.

It took a lot of courage out of him, but after an hour of hyping himself up and drafting out the text in his mind, Shinsou finally asked you out on a date.

Would you happen to be free this weekend? I’ve really enjoyed talking to you and I’d like to take you out on a date if that’s okay with you.

When you saw that text, you squealed and threw your phone on your bed in excitement. After a moment, you realized that you’d actually need to settle yourself and reply to him.

I’d love that! Are you free on Saturday around 11am?

Shinsou’s nerves instantly settled; he was absolutely elated reading your last text. He took a minute or two to think of some places he thought you’d enjoy and then sent his reply.

Yeah, that works for me :) there’s a cat cafe nearby UA, would you like to go there?

That sounds lovely! I love cats, so thats acc perfect!

Great! I’m a big cat fan myself. I guess its a date then ♡

Soon after you two had set up your date, you both said your goodnights. But you were far too excited to fall asleep any time soon. You were already laying in bed, planning your outfit, and thinking about how you wanted to do your makeup even though the date was two days away

. A couple of blocks away, Shinsou was thinking about the date too. The more he'd talked to you, the more he truly felt this connection with you. It just felt like kismet. All he was hoping for now is that you weren't any different in person.

You spent most of the night thinking of different scenarios of how you thought the date would go in hopes of calming you down enough to fall asleep. However, it did the exact opposite, the lovely thoughts keeping you awake. After a while though (and with the help of a melatonin gummy), you were able to fall asleep and you dreamt of your date the whole night.

#mha x reader #bnha fanfiction #bhna fluff #bhna x reader #ao3 shinsou #shinsou fluff #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou x reader #mha shinsou #shinsou x you #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinso x y/n #mha hitoshi #mha shinso x reader #my hero academia #bnha shinso hitoshi #mha fluff #hitoshi shinsō #hitoshi x reader

[walli3darl1ng]

aaa i loved your oneshot abt doll maker reader with wally !! i absolutely love the concept and idea. you could make it into a series its so good so far!!! but no pressure of course! a part 2 would be nice :DD i love ur writing style ^^

You’re the sweetest! I’m so glad you liked it I really like the concept too, well here’s part two! ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Oh! Also @ghostlysenses and @fluffyart5000 come get your juice!

Part two of the Doll maker! Reader.

For context reader is a doll maker and was given the task to make Wally Darling look presentable without knowing he could feel and/ or come alive @:3

Your touch was so foreign to him. He felt warm, cared for, safe. Before he thought that’s how he was supposed to be handled but now he realizes that he was wrong.

Wally knows he’s a puppet. He doesn’t know how he knows but one day just woke up and was in the big human world. He stopped trying to convince the others after they told him they didn't believe him. He knows he’s not supposed to make himself move but when you gently wrapped his arms around your neck and held him with so much care and warmth he couldn’t help but tighten his hold.

He finds you so soft and warm. So brightly shined you practically had a permanent glow.

He thought you sitting him on the passenger side and buckling him up was thoughtful and adorable on your part. Wally knows he’s an object, just a clump of felt and stuffing—at least that’s what he thought he was before. Under your care he’s starting to reconsider that statement.

You make it to your studio and gently set Wally on the table to sit. “Okay, Buddy. We got a lot of work to do, huh?” You smile at him.

How he loves when you talk to him. He felt alive.

Your studio is filled with fabrics, art supplies and anything a doll maker would need. Letting a sigh escape you, you roll a chair in front of him and sit down with a piece of paper. “Okay, I read somewhere that I could wash you in the washing machine but that sounds a bit risky and harsh. So hand washing is the go to. Ready?”

He is. On nights he comes alive he’s looked at himself and he’s not happy with how he looks. A makeover is well needed.

After tackling his cardigan—that was literally a ball of yarn after you were done taking it off him, you worked on getting the rest of the dirt off with your fingers in a cool water bath with soap.

A simple task was a bonding and wonderful moment for Wally. Your touch was delicate and you would hum a song. He was in utter and pure bliss.

While air drying he would watch you work on a new set of clothes for him delicately. “I’m so glad I found a photo of how you looked before or else I wouldn’t know how to sew up an outfit to your liking.”

Anything you make for him is to his liking. Just watching you is enough. He wants to feel your warmth again, to understand it, he wants you to teach him all the things he doesn’t understand from your world and maybe he can return the favor with him? Wally knows it’s impossible and frankly, doesn’t want to scare you.

Hours pass and you decide to call it a day but you walk over to him and hold his hand. “Still a bit damp. Maybe you’ll be dry tomorrow?” You bring your other hand and run your knuckles across his cheek and gently poke his blue colored hair that’s in his signature style. “You’ll be safe here, Wally, okay?”

He believes you. He had to spot himself from nodding at you, instead, giving silence as his answer. How he wished to speak to you, to finally have someone who will care for him, a new friend he can tell the others about.

“See you tomorrow, Wally!” With a last goodbye you click the door close, leaving him alone.

He waits a few minutes and lets himself move. He feels way heavier than normal, maybe the water. Wally looks around and looks down from the counter he was placed in and pulls back with uncertainty at the long drop, shaking his head as he walks over to where you left the finish outfit. He's wearing a different outfit—shirt and pants that you reassured him there’s no harm done if he gets them wet.

“Hello!”

—

I take ideas as well! Don’t be shy, hope you enjoy!!

#welcome home x you #welcome home #welcome home wally #wally darling x reader #wally x y/n #wally x you #wally darling #wally darling x self insert #part two

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Have I fallen down the Try Guys drama hole? 

Yep.

But damn. Ned “My Wife” Fulmer, cheating on said wife with one of his production assistants, as if that wouldn’t eventually put the company he is probably part-owner of at risk for a sexual misconduct lawsuit is wild. He thought nothing of how his wife would feel, or how his actions would affect his friends and coworkers at the company he helped create.  

Of course he got fired. There wasn’t any other option. Any way you look at this, this is the cleanest, least painful way to handle this.

If they’d kept him and Alex they would have lost fans in droves.

If they’d kept him and fired Alex, she could have sued for wrongful termination and/or sexual misconduct. And lost fans in droves. 

I don’t know if they’ve let her go as well, but you know what? Good for the other three guys and the rest of the company. 

When you build parasocial relationships with your fans and they find out it is a lie, there are going to be consequences. And I’m not talking about cancellation on Twitter. I’m talking about lost subscriptions and views. They make bank on those Youtube videos. They were popular enough to score a real television show. 

A lot of people are comparing this to what happened with John Mulaney, but as I think about this more, I wonder if Mulaney is the correct corollary to Fulmer. 

Mulaney is a comedian. He spins yarns and tells stories and jokes on a stage. Did the internet take them as fact? Sure. Did he present them as fact for his stage shows? Yes. Did he do so strictly because they were the base for some very funny jokes? Yes. 

And Mulaney is still working, though less popular than he was. Because comedians blur the truth for a laugh all the time. Was it right to do so and exploit those parasocial relationships? Probably not. Is this what comedians have been doing for a long time? Yep. 

But Fulmer brought fans literally into his home and his life. He created a space  that made his wife and children apart of his narrative and his parasocial relationships as a lifestyle brand. Because that’s what Ned’s function in the Try Guys really was. 

Look at the way the videos break down. Eugene’s solo videos often tackle inclusivity and culture, and sometimes civic duty. Keith’s go for music and comedy and food. Zack often goes for education on disability and chronic illness.

Ned’s were lifestyle.

The home redesign. The cookbook. The baby videos.  

However true that persona used to be, it no longer is, and now all of his previous videos ring completely false. No one wants to watch someone gush over their wife who turned around and cheated on his wife. 

So yeah, letting Fulmer go quickly and decisively was the correct move.

#Try Guys #Leigh thinks about stuff #don't market yourself as the wife guy if you fool around behind her back

[aquilathefighter]

Fluffbruary 24: Needle

Find all my @fluffbruary ficlets on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

To put it simply, getting used to mortal clothes was a pain for Dream. For all his life, his clothes were dreamstuff, as much a part of him as any other part of his manifestation. There was no difference between the fabric of his jacket and his skin. All one unified being.

Since his retirement, he no longer has the power to summon clothes with a thought. When he first moved in with Hob, he dragged him to department store after department store, trying on itchy denim and polyester that brought him to tears in the changing room.

At first Hob didn’t understand. Why was he so upset at clothes? Hob never had any problems; anything was better than the rough materials he wore once upon a time.

When they finally arrived home, Dream explained how painful all the different fabrics and textures were to his newly human skin.

“For so long, my clothing was part of me. I find most textures… unappealing to my skin. It brings me close to…” Dream trailed off, searching his memory for the appropriate word. “Close to a meltdown, I believe.”

“Ah, I understand now. It’s a sensory issue. Come to think of it, I’ve got a colleague who’s mentioned the same type of thing. Let me shoot her a text and see if she’s got any ideas, alright?”

Dream nodded his head minutely, then buried himself in the soft blanket on their bed. Underneath, he’s cloaked in Hob’s clothes, soft and worn from years of use. The t-shirt he’s borrowed is a gaudy yellow, the smiley face screen-print virtually gone. He tore the tag out after Hob told him it was his now. It’s too big for his frame, the sleeves hitting his elbows and the hem covering most of his thighs. He prefers not to wear trousers when he can. The material irritates the sensitive skin of his legs, and they feel too restrictive on his body. It would be nice to have his own clothes, though.

Hob came back into the room, holding two cups of tea. Dream poked an arm out of the blanket, grateful to accept the beverage. Hob sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

“Okay, she messaged me back a list of fabrics that are generally approved for folks with your same issues. I see two options: one, we go back to the shops and look at every single tag until we find the right material, or two, we head to the fabric store, and you pick out what you like. I’ll make you some clothes. I do know how to sew, did a stint as a tailor once.”

Dream stared at Hob, deciding. The store-bought clothing would perhaps mean less labor, but more time spent out in public with loud strangers, bad music over tinny speakers, and the relentless buzz of fluorescent lighting. On the other hand, he’d have more control over the homemade clothes, no itchy tags and clothing perfectly fit to his specifications. But he doesn’t like making Hob do so much work, the man is busy enough as it is.

“I should prefer the clothing you would make me, beloved. If it is not too much.”

Hob wrapped an arm around him, squeezing Dream to his shoulder. Dream dropped his head to rest against Hob’s comforting warmth.

“Of course it’s not too much, Dream. I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t want to do it.” He pressed a kiss to Dream’s hair. “I want to do these things for you because I love you. I want you to have clothes that don’t make you want to put your head through a wall. And you don’t owe me anything in return, remember that.”

Dream nodded, trying to make himself believe it as hard as it is.

☆ ☆ ☆ 

They returned from the fabric store with several bags’ worth of fabric. All of it black, per Dream’s preference. They spread the cuts on the floor, sorting jersey from fleece, bamboo from linen. Piled alongside the material are skeins of yarn, lovely thin-weighted cashmere that Hob will knit into comfortable cardigans and seamless socks.

Dream has chosen several patterns that were to his preferences. Looser fits and elastic waists so he didn’t need to deal with the discomfort of buttons and zippers pressing against bare skin.

“It is a comfort that I will have much control over the fit of these garments,” Dream said when they were done organizing their haul.

“Glad to hear it, dove. I’ll have you try stuff on a bunch before it’s done. Hope that isn’t too annoying,” Hob chuckled, used to the complaints of clients.

“How could I find such a labor of love an annoyance?”

Hob blushed. “Dream, you can’t just say stuff like that. How-how am I supposed to work in these conditions,” he laughed.

“I will assure you that I will provide many breaks,” Dream said as he scooted closer to Hob on the couch. Hob relented to his advances, planting a kiss on his lips.

“Insatiable creature. I do want to get started on this tonight, so back off, foul tempter!” He nudged Dream as he hopped off the couch. “Hmm, shall we begin with this pattern?” he asked, holding up the package for a simple v neck shirt. Dream hummed in approval.

“Hop up, I gotta measure you. And be good, mister.”

Dream stood, staying still and patient as Hob manipulated the measuring tape about his body. Hob scribbled it all down in a fresh notebook that was to live next to the sewing table, which Hob had eagerly set up earlier in the day.

“All done! Why don’t you order us some take away while I get started cutting out the pattern?”

☆ ☆ ☆ 

While Dream headed down to meet the delivery driver outside, Hob began to set up the sewing machine. A fresh needle, new black thread loaded in the bobbin, the room awash in bright light so he could see in front of him. Hob had missed sewing with the machine. He would sew by hand on occasion, mending tears and quickly patching tears in his jeans, but the purr of the sewing machine was a different animal entirely. He been so excited when the first machines came out, you could make a new garment exponentially faster than ever before! People took it for granted these days. Hob preferred a simpler machine with just a few stitch settings, but still had an electric motor. He’s a man of modernity, after all.

Dream returned with the bag of food, tantalizing smells wafting through the door. Hob lifted up the presser foot and pulled the garment away from the machine, snipping the tails of thread with his tiny scissors. He held it up for Dream’s inspection.

“What do you think so far? I’ve only done one side and I’ve done the seam allowance as tiny as I can go.”

“Your skillset holds no bounds, Hob.” He gave a tiny smile, the kind that’s only for Hob’s eyes.

“High praise,” Hob grinned. “Now, what’d you get me?” He wiggles his fingers as he moves toward the table.

☆ ☆ ☆ 

Dream has become used to the rattling of the needle, up and down and up and down, interspersed by Hob humming or scolding the garment for not behaving or yelping when his thumb catches the end of a pin. The background noise is soothing as he goes about his day, reading or preparing a snack for Hob or working on his own projects. He’d expected it to be grating, like most machinery. But the sewing machine is not a screeching brake or rumbling jackhammer. It is a friend, a kindred spirit, another family member in the little home he and Hob have built for themselves. He is not jealous when it takes Hob’s attention, because Hob loves him. He is certain of this. And as his wardrobe has grown, he has felt the love in every stitch, every dart in his jackets, the neatly trimmed seams that don’t irritate his skin. Hob enjoyed creating these for him with nothing expected in return. Hob was pleased when he stopped insisting on doing something for him after every finished garment was handed over. He believed relationships were always an exchange until Hob. Until his labors of love and the friendly hum of a Singer.

#fluffbruary #dreamling #hob x dream #dream x hob #aquila writes #autistic!dream of the endless

[mopillow]

Red Yarn…

Because my mind is rotten and I want to spread the bad thoughts

So we were blessed and my mind stopped functioning for some time

Please check that HT says let’s go Home as in forget about that cramped apartment now you live here, yes those are your things don’t worry my people made sure to pack everything, but I’m not here to talk about that I’m here to point something out that I can’t stop thinking about since yesterday

It’s obvious that Mo is not 100% there, he’s confused, kudos to HT for being a gentleman I would have at least take pictures of him just because he looks so cute, anyway the thing is that please look at the next panels

Mo does absolutely nothing, he doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t complain, it doesn’t look like he is against anything that is happening in that lap but as I said before he isn’t completely there, for me that looks like something that he is use to

At no point in any of this Mo Guan Shan rejected He Tian not even a little bit and do you guys remember when does Mo let’s He Tian be like this?? Exactly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mo has dreamed of He Tian coming back to him and get in a bed with him and the condoms are not even a rare item, is my understanding that Mo thinks he’s dreaming and since all this stuff happens on a regular basis he isn’t afraid of accepting anything that’s coming his way because at some point he knows this is going to wake up on his cold bed only that this time is actually happening this is not a dream and he’s gonna wake up besides the man of his dreams with an empty pack of condoms a ring and in his new home, me and JY would pay good money to see that face and if I was HT I would pay for a trip to Las Vegas and secure that marriage asap, it fucking counts and you can’t get an annulment only because you were drunk trust me in this one people, your only hope is that you have enough money to get it but HT is not gonna let that happen

#19 days #tianshan #he tian #mo guan shan #dreams #red yarn

[not-in-the-library]

The dialogue for when they finally have that conversation

Jimena sat under Dhriti’s chest as they leaned over their desk, scratching away deep in thought. It was a bad habit of Dhriti’s to practically lay over their paper as they worked, it was a terrible strain on their back, but Jimena was too lost in thought to correct them.

She had made it routine to come and visit the botanist at least once a week, after church each Sunday. Months had passed since their first meeting, the leaves outside had all fallen long ago, leaving Dhriti indoors much more often than they would’ve usually preferred. Dhriti initially wanted to make the trip less of a burden on Jimena by escorting her to and from the station, but with increased holiday traffic through the woods, they both agreed it would be better if Jimena biked to and fro like she had before. It wasn’t that bad, the chilly rains had turned to snow, but not enough to stick and pile up.

During these visits Jimena always made sure to bring some kind of activity with her to keep busy if ever Dhriti’s work kept them from stable conversation. For the past few weeks Jimena had been working on a few little crocheted items for Arturo’s daughter. The jumper she had gifted them before her birth was now too small, so along with a new blue one, she worked away at a yellow bonnet with matching shoes.

As she continued down the row for the chin strap, she allowed that lump in the pit of her stomach to climb her throat, making her break out in a sweat. This was beyond butterflies. Ever since that afternoon, when Dhriti had laid that red shawl over her shoulders, it was like an angry hornets nest made a home in her heart. At first she wanted to write it off as raw terror, paved over by manners keeping her from screaming in the presence of a titan.

But fear wouldn’t make you come back. Morbid curiosity maybe, but it sure as hell didn’t make you knock on the door of every house in town asking for blankets so your monster can have a dry place to sit. It didn’t make you steal paper lanterns from your brother’s house so they might be able to see in the dark just a bit better. It didn’t make you help them button their cuffs or tie their hair into plaits like sailor’s knots while they were preoccupied. Fear didn’t fill your lungs with laughter, but something else did make her blood run cold and her breath hitch just from meeting their gaze. “Oh God.” She breathed out.

She looked down at her hands and realized she had completely used up her yarn on the longest chin strap ever. She opted to just start over, she couldn’t be bothered to count back right now.

Dhriti stopped their scribbling at the sound of Jimena’s voice. A low rumble emanated from their chest as they sat up to look down at the human below. These kinds of rumblings were felt more than heard, but Jimena knew they counted just as much as words.

“Sorry. I-ach- I zoned out and totally lost count.” Jimena choked out as she continued pulling away at her chain. Her hands were more than a bit frantic as she realized she neglected to wrap up the tail and had little more than a pile of knots in her lap. This did not go unnoticed by Dhriti.

“Don’t say sorry to me, you’re dismembering that poor defenseless hat.” Dhriti began to scoot their chair back a bit to talk without having their chin tucked into their chest. “You’ve been real quiet today.” They stretched a bit before continuing, “is the weather getting to you?”

Jimena kept her back turned, trying to pull apart the knots to hopefully wind up neatly. “No, I’ve just been thinking.” She raised her voice a bit more than she would’ve liked.

“Oh?”

“Mhm.”

“Well?”

“I.” What could she say? Being near you makes me want to throw up, but in a good way? You smell like dirt mixed with body odor and it’s heavenly? That the stray thought of you makes me shriek to myself? That’s. Weird. Not that.

“Do you like me, Dhriti?” She shuffled to position her knees beneath her.

“Yes! Oh, did you think is was ignoring you? Because I just get so restless I can’t work, but when motivation hits I get completely wrapped up. I’m sorry if I’ve been bad company.”

“Oh no! You’ve been great! I love just. Being in the same room as you, I just.” She swiveled around on her knees and forced herself to look Dhriti in the face. “I really like you, Dhriti.”

“I like you too, Jimena.” They spoke slowly, a bit off guard.

Jimena kept her eyes firmly planted in theirs, wanting to stop the conversation and stay strong in her station as a friend, but that hornets nest was too much to let her shut up.

“I mean. I really like you. Like a lot, Dhriti.” what.

Dhriti swallowed the words, letting them sink in their chest like a rock. A rock that was gonna make them vomit. A deep, low rumble came out of them like the purr of an engine, despite their best efforts to keep it in, the rumble shook Jimena to her core.

Jimena opened her mouth, but shut right back up, mortified.

Dhriti tried to fill the silence, but only let out a squeak. They tried again, croaking out, “Platonically?”

Jimena shook her head, eyes wide.

“Romantically?” Dhriti felt like a fool, losing the ability to string more than one word together. They had Jimena beat though, all she could do was nod her head with a stony face.

At her affirmative, it took all of Dhriti’s might to not leap out of the chair and take off running. If their back would’ve allowed it, it might’ve happened. This was great. This was terrible. “Oh no.” Was all they could say.

Jimena’s face immediately fell. “No?” She repeated into her lap.

“No! I mean, me too, I really really like you Jimena.” Dhriti all but shouted it. It was rare for them to put the bass in their voice to make it rumble, but they just couldn’t help it. “But are you sure you want to have this conversation with me?”

“Yes!” Jimena chirped as she stood. “I’ve wanted to have this conversation for months!”

Dhriti soaked up all of her form, breathless before they tried to gulp up their rumble before talking, “Me too.” They swallowed, trying to even their voice. “I just didn’t want to back you into a corner.”

“What does that mean?” Jimena asked as she stepped forward.

“I mean I didn’t want to make you feel like you ever had to reciprocate feelings for me. Or scare you off. Or make you say yes out of pity.” Dhriti looked away as they continued, “I mean, look at me Jimena, how could I ever make advances while holding you in the palm of my hand?”

Jimena took a moment to comically take in their whole form, leaning forward then far back, “Pretty easily.”

“I know! It wouldn’t be fair of me to put you in that position.” Dhriti met her gaze, not expecting her to look so happy.

“Well I would’ve hoped you’d have more faith in me.” She stepped forward again, gathering a fistful of fabric from her skirt, “I like to think I’d be tough enough to tell you off.”

Dhriti cautiously leaned forward, resting their arm on the table, allowing themselves to loom a bit over her, casting a shadow over the little baker. “You only think that because you like-like me.” They said, the corners of their mouth turning up, making their dimples deepen.

Jimena laughed as she stumbled over to the crook of their arm and collapsed. “Is that really how I said it?”

“Yes that is how you said it.” Dhriti said as they leaned back in their chair to peer through their glasses at the tiny woman.

They chuckled deeply before bending over to meet Jimena’s gaze. “But really, is this okay?”

Jimena leaned her head on their bicep before she sighed, “Yes, I think so.”

Dhriti silently sat back once more before pulling their arm to brace across their stomach, cradling Jimena with the other hand keeping her from slipping off. “What will people say?” They sighed, looking anxiously at the blank wall before them.

Jimena tapped her cold hand on their arm, “we don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want to.” Dhriti let out a long sigh and looked up to the ceiling, heart beating like running footsteps, “Let’s just go one day at a time.”

#art #illustrators on tumblr #illustration #digital art #g/t #inksketch #sfw g/t #giant/tiny #g/t art #g/t community #g/t ocs #g/t writing prompt #g/t comic #giant tiny #g/t shitpost #gt writing #g/t drawing #g/t writing #my ocs #gt ocs #oc dhriti #oc jimena #dhriti and jimena

[basicallyahedgehog]

Happy birthday darling Fay @thesleepiesthufflepuff!!! You are such a ray of light and a joy to know, and I am so so so grateful to be able to call you my friend. You deserve the whole world, but I hope this fluffy little thing inspired by Clodagh and her jammies will suffice. Wishing you the happiest of birthdays and all the puppy snuggles today.

Harry paced restlessly up and down the hallway as he waited for the dog trainer to arrive. It had seemed like a good idea at the time — Dog needed to be trained, and No Bark, No Bite had the highest ratings in the neighbourhood. Harry had been full of hope as he’d filled out the online form, visions of long walks with his faithful companion swimming through his head. It had all come crashing down, however, when the confirmation email came through. 

“Draco Malfoy will see you at 10am on Wednesday morning.”

So here Harry was, contemplating whether he could just live with the fact that Dog refused to go outside so that he could escape the doom that was fast approaching.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Malfoy anymore. No, he quite liked the git now that they had all grown up a bit and let bygones be bygones. The problem was quite the opposite, really. Because Malfoy — Draco — was smart and witty and charming and fucking fit. And Harry knew Draco worked with animals. Knew his job was in Harry’s own neighbourhood. And now he was coming here to Harry’s house and he’d know that Harry was fucking incompetent — and a liar, because Harry had told him only three days ago that everything was fine and he didn’t need help with his new puppy but thank you very much.

He was so stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

-----

Draco chewed on his lips as he walked up the path, once again questioning the wisdom in taking this job. He should have handed the client on to Cassie as soon as he saw the name. Should have packed his bags and move to another country. Because now he had to work with Harry and be professional. Had to pretend that the mere idea of Harry with a puppy didn’t make his insides melt. 

He sucked in a breath and knocked on the door, relaxing minutely when he heard a faint crash from inside followed by colourful swearing. At least he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. 

Harry opened the door, his hair even more wild than it was on pub nights. A tiny black puppy crouched behind him, eyeing the open door in fascination but making no move to step outside. 

“Potter.” Draco held out his hand, determined to remain professional. “How can I help you?”

-----

A disaster. It was all a terrible disaster. 

Draco had stayed barely half an hour before declaring he knew the problem, but wouldn’t be able to fix it today. He had almost run back down the street, as if he couldn’t stand to be near Harry any longer. 

Harry knew he was weird and awkward, but he thought he’d had it vaguely under control that morning.

Sure, he had a dog named Dog. Well, Dumbledog, at Teddy’s insistence, but even Harry wasn’t strange enough to go around calling the poor little thing by her full name. And yes, he couldn’t work a normal job like Draco did, and yes, Dog was largely purchased with the plan to train her as a therapy dog to help him with his anxiety. And yes, he was so fucking gone on Draco that he could barely string two sentences together. 

But that didn’t mean Draco had to run away, did it?

He could only hope that he would be able to hold himself together better next time they saw each other.

-----

A disaster. It was all a terrible disaster. 

Harry had been so sweet and so concerned about his dog, all of Draco’s heartstrings had been stretched beyond their limits. And he had a dog named Dog of all things, which Draco would have laughed at if it had been anyone else. Instead it was Harry, and Draco felt all stretched out and upside down. Like nothing in the world could ever be the same now that he had seen Harry cuddle a tiny, wriggly ball of fluff named Dog.

So here he was, a tangle of yarn in his lap, knitting needles in one hand and instruction book in the other. Because poor Dog was cold and there was only one thing he could do when faced with a puppy who refused to go on walks with Harry Potter due to the cold.

Learn to knit doggy jumpers.

-----

Harry was baffled. 

“So, Dog was just cold?”

“Yeah,” Draco replied, tucking Dog’s paws through the front legs of her new little jumper. “Hopefully this is enough, but we might need to get her booties too if her feet are sensitive.”

“They sell booties for dogs?”

“The Muggles do, yeah. They’re quite sweet, actually.”

Harry blinked. Had Draco just called a Muggle invention sweet?

“Could we not just use a warming charm?” Dog looked very sweet in her jumper, but Harry couldn’t help be confused by the fact that Draco hadn’t immediately turned to magic. 

“Oh, Dog is allergic to warming charms. I checked last time, but you were so worried about her I didn’t want to say anything until I had a solution.”

“Oh.” Harry could only stare at Draco, silently willing his expression into something acceptable. “Thank you, Draco. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

This man was going to be the death of him.

-----

This man was going to be the death of him.

“Dog is allergic to warming charms,” he muttered to himself furiously. “Honestly, Draco, could you have been any more obvious?”

He sunk into his couch, running his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know how Harry hadn’t seen right through him, he hadn’t even tried to hide how stupidly in love he was.

Love. Fuck. He loved Harry Potter and now he’d lied to him and fucking learnt to knit for his dog and…

There was only one thing left to do.

-----

“So she needed the booties, then?” Harry blinked sleepily at Draco, who had turned up unexpectedly while Harry and Dog were having a nap. 

“Well, she seemed to walk happily last week, but I thought it was better safe than sorry. How has she been?”

“She’s been great! I think the jacket has really helped, thank you so much.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll leave you to it then.” 

Draco began to walk away, and Harry made a snap decision. 

“Wait! Did you want to come for a walk with us? You know, to check on Dog’s progress?”

Harry was an idiot. A sweet, bumbling, adorable idiot. And Draco was a fool.

Dog had loved their walk, prancing through the fallen leaves and chasing squirrels as far as her lead would allow. Harry, however, had looked positively miserable as his eyes watered and his nose streamed and his fingers turned blue.

“I told you to bundle up, Potter,” Draco had said, only half of his old sneer coming through. 

“I put an extra sweater on!” Harry had exclaimed, as if a sweater would keep his extremities warm. 

“What about a hat? A scarf? Some mittens?”

“Oh,” Harry said, tilting his head in thought. “I don’t think I own any. Gave them all to Dobby.”

“Potter, Dobby died ten years ago.” He’d tried to be soft, tried not to snap at the foolish, stupid man beside him.

“I guess I just didn’t think about it.”

And so now Draco was awake at 2am, for the third night in a row, knitting furiously.

-----

“And I thought he’d just bought the little sweater for Dog, and I thought it was sweet that he’d found booties that matched. But…but these all showed up on my doorstep yesterday, and they all match Dog’s things, and I don’t know what it means.”

Harry sat on Ron and Hermione’s couch, head in hands, a pile of knitwear on the floor in front of him. The hat, scarf and mittens had been on his front step that morning when he and Dog went for their first walk of the day. There hadn’t been a note, but the yarn was so distinctive. They could have only come from one person.

“Harry.” Hermione spoke gently, as if she had something important to say and didn’t know how Harry would take it. “Why would Draco buy Dog a sweater instead of just using a warming charm?”

“He said Dog was allergic to them. Said he checked on his first visit but didn’t want to worry me.”

Ron made a strange choking noise before excusing himself to the kitchen.

“Harry, charms can’t cause allergies.”

“But…why would he buy her a sweater then?” 

“Harry…” Hermione looked at him softly, as if pleading with him to figure out what she already had. He looked again at the bundle of yarn on the floor, at the uneven stitches and slightly lumpy shapes.

“He didn’t buy them, did he?”

Hermione grabbed his hand. “No, Harry. He didn’t.”

“But, why?”

Ron’s voice came from behind them. “HE’S FUCKING COURTING YOU, MATE.”

-----

Draco trudged up Harry’s front path. He’d promised himself after last time that he wouldn’t be back, but he’d gotten a text from Harry that morning asking him to come over. 

He’d tried not to hope, tried to ignore the warmth swelling in his chest. 

If Harry had figured it out, surely he would have said something before now. After all, it had almost been a week since he’d dropped off the knitwear.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the door opening, but he couldn’t ignore the exuberant ball of fluff jumping all over him. The exuberant ball of fluff wearing…a knitted bow tie?

“She was meant to give you this, but she was too excited to wait for me to tie it on.” Draco looked up from Dog to see Harry standing in front of him, a timid smile on his face as he held out a small roll of parchment. Draco took it tentatively, eyes flicking back to Harry as he unrolled it.

My owner is an idiot, but some would say that makes him cute.

Will you go out with him? Dog is optional on dates.

Harry rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet as Draco read and reread the scroll. 

This was a terrible idea, he should have bought flowers or whiskey or-

Draco dropped the scroll, his face unreadable as he stood. Harry opened his mouth, unsure of what he was going to say, but then it didn’t matter because Draco was reaching for him and cradling his head and kissing him.

Maybe he hadn’t been so stupid, after all.

#happy birthday Fay #i love you to the moon and back #you deserve the softest coziest things in life #drarry #drarry fic #now i want a puppy called dog #my writing