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#AND I AM THE BARBER'S BLADE
asleepinawell · 1 year
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Return to Ivalice - The Ridorana Lighthouse
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flowersandbigteeth · 4 months
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Your orc husband comes to fetch you
A little thing to start 2024. I've gotten lots of requests for more orcs ^_^
General Plot: Your husband finds out you've been injured in battle and comes to fetch you.
Orc (Reven) x GN reader
Word count: 1K-ish
More SFW fics
TW: Mention of amputation, mention of break up, hurt comfort, sfw fluff, size difference
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“Heard the news?” Reven’s client asked, a brave move considering the razor at his throat. 
Skilled fingers never wavering as he drew the blade across his client's chin, he let out a bored grunt, focused on his task.
“There’s rarely any news that hasn't made it through the shop.” 
His client’s eyes twinkled, eager to share some gossip. 
“They say the Dragon Slayer is retiring.” 
Reven’s graceful stroke paused, and he pulled his hand back before he sliced the man's cheek. 
“Oh? I thought they’d never give up their crusade.”  
“Word is the crusade is over. The dragons pillaging Walker’s Keep are dead. The slayer killed them all.” 
Reven took a deep breath before asking his next question. 
“Will they be returning to their homeland?” 
The client snorted. 
“If they ever leave the hospital. They were gravely wounded in the final battle. Thank the Goddess the dragon’s gone, they won't be doing much-” 
The razor clattered to the floor with a metallic clang, and Reven’s feet carried him out the front door of his barbershop without a word to the half-shaved client sitting in his chair. 
He left his crinkled apron in the dirt as he mounted his horse and steered her towards the road to Walker’s Keep. 
“Come on hero, eat a little,” one of the nurses at the clinic urged you, holding up a spoon of oatmeal. 
You waved it away with your remaining hand, your face a miserable, twisted version of itself. 
She huffed, getting annoyed. 
“You haven't eaten in three days! It's only a hand. Some of the people here have lost brain matter, their genitals…You've already killed the dragons. You don't need-” 
A clamor outside the door of your hospital room cut off her little tirade. 
An orderly’s deep voice drifted through the door. 
“Sir! Only family can-” 
“I am family, dammit. I'm their husband!” 
Reven’s familiar baritone made your heart flutter. Still, you were afraid. It had been so long since you'd seen one another. Three years and you hadn't parted on a happy note. 
The door flew open, and there he was, his massive shoulders filling the frame, emerald green skin as rich as you remembered it. He’d changed his hair, no longer cropped around his ears, but long hanging in a thick ponytail over his shoulders. 
He tipped his head to enter the room, dark eyes on you, and his lips twisted around his tusks in an expression you remembered as annoyance. 
“Get out,” he barked at the nurse, and she shuffled past him without question. 
Your voice was only a murmur.
“You came.” 
“Of course, I came. I would have come sooner, but someone failed to send their spouse a note mentioning they’d lost their hand!” 
Your eyes dipped, full of shame. 
You'd left Reven on a cold December night. He'd begged you not to go, cried, yelled, and made you a million promises if you'd just let someone else handle the mission. But no, you had to be a hero, and look what that brought you. You were broken and useless, alone in a hospital bed. 
“Stop thinking so hard,” he muttered, chestnut eyes roving over you, ever analytical. 
He crossed the room and plopped down on the bed, holding his hand out. 
“What?” you asked. 
“Let me see it.”
You stretched your bandaged stump to him, and he fingered it gingerly. For an Orc he had nimble fingers honed by years as a barber. 
“Bah…Just a scratch.” 
He gently placed it in his lap, twisting his body so the two of you were face to face. 
“It's my sword hand. I'll never kill another dragon.” 
His head tipped to the side. 
“I've heard the dragons are dead.” 
“They are, but-” 
“But nothing. You accomplished your mission…sacrificed for the kingdom…It's time to come home.” 
You blinked at him, tears burning the backs of your eyes. 
“You want me to come home? I'm…I'm useless.” 
He chuckled. 
“Nothing's changed without your hand. You've never been good at anything but killing.” 
“Swordsmanship was my only skill.” 
“A stupid one.” 
His lips twisted around his tusks again, but this time with amusement. Large fingers slipped over your cheek, and he pulled your head to him, brushing his lips over yours. His scent and taste were so familiar. It was as if you'd been holding your breath the three years you'd been gone and could finally get some oxygen. When he pulled back, he looked down at you, expression solemn. 
“I wrote you letters. You never wrote back. Did you toss them all out?” 
You shook your head, trying to hold the tears back. The Dragon Slayer crying was embarrassing. You nodded to the small chest where the nurses had placed your belongings. 
Reven crossed the room, opening the box and pulling out a stack of letters tied with a green ribbon you’d come across. 
“I didn’t know what to say. I felt…guilty…I guess.” 
He tossed them on your lap, narrowing his eyes at you.
“Hello. I love you, would have sufficed.” 
“I’m sorry, Reven. I left and ruined myself when I could have been home with you. I could have been happy.” 
“You killed the dragons, accomplished your goal…You aren’t happy?” 
“It feels emptier than I thought it would. I left you alone. Anything could have happened to you, and I would have lost my chance to see you again.” 
He chuckled. 
“I’m not helpless.” 
“I left you alone. It’s unforgivable.” 
“That’s for me to decide.” 
You looked up at him, searching his eyes. 
“You’d forgive me? I don’t deserve it. I got hurt. You told me this would happen, and I didn’t listen. Now I’m just a burden and a fool.” 
He sighed and pushed you to the side, sliding into bed with you before pulling you back into his lap. His nose grazed the column of your neck, and you felt him breathe in your scent.
“Maybe a fool, but never a burden, and being foolish doesn’t make you unlovable. I missed you (Y/N).” 
“I missed you, too.” 
“You weren’t the only fool.” 
“You started dating another bloodthirsty idiot while I was away?” 
“I should have come with you. I was angry at you, but that didn’t last long. Then I was bitter you hadn’t asked me to join you, and I didn’t insist.” 
“Kharma caught up to me.” 
“If you hadn’t lost your hand, would you still be gallivanting over the countryside fighting monsters?” 
“Probably.” 
He buried his face in your neck, and you felt the slight wetness of tears against your skin. 
“I don’t think it was Kharma…I think it was Fate.”
“Fate?”
“Fate spared two idiots unwilling to budge.” 
You sat on those words for a few minutes, the heat of Reven’s body seeping into your bones. You could never quite get warm the entire time you’d been gone, no matter how many furs you donned. You always felt cold, even with the heat of the dragon’s flame singing the tips of your eyelashes. 
“Don’t leave again,” he whispered.
“It wasn’t worth it. I’d read and reread your letters all those lonely nights, wishing I had the strength to abandon my quest and return. I was afraid…I’ve never been afraid before. I’ve killed monsters my whole life and never felt fear, but the thought that you might reject me if I walked through those doors…that I’d come home to find some other lover warming your bed…our home…” 
You felt Reven smile into your skin. 
“There aren’t too many half-feral sword-wielding jocks roaming around Elderoak. That’s what I go for.” 
“Thank you for coming to get me, Reven.” 
“I should have come sooner.” 
“I wouldn’t have listened.” 
“I’m bigger than you. I should have thrown you over my shoulder and taken you home.” 
“And now…?” 
“You could walk…or I could throw you over my shoulder anyway if you like that sort of thing.” 
You twisted your body to snuggle deeper into Reven’s arms. You finally felt warm for the first time in three years. 
“Did the doctor clear you to leave?” 
“They’ve done all they can…they were waiting on me to eat.” 
You felt his chest shudder as he chuckled. 
“You don’t want cold hospital gruel? Spoiled.” 
“Not spoiled enough. I miss your cooking. I want to go home.” 
He hopped to his feet, making you jump as he hoisted you princess-style into his arms. 
“I’ll come back for your things,” he promised as he carried you out the door. 
“Forget about it…It’s just armor and weapons I don’t need anymore. The letters are the only things I want to keep.” 
“Are you sure? They’re a little sad. I missed you so badly…I whined more than anything.” 
“I want them to…remember how unfair it was…everything I put you through to stroke my own pride.” 
He lifted you up to his lips to press a heavy kiss into your forehead. 
“Even if you forget, I’ll make you remember. You left, but I let you go. I’m sorry for that (Y/N).” 
“Then we’re both sorry.” 
Your stomach grumbled loudly, and Reven laughed again. 
“Sorry and hungry. Think you can get down some tavern food? It’s not my cooking, but you can’t wait to eat until we get back to Elderoak.” 
You looked up at him, cupping his thick jaw with your remaining hand.
“In your company, it’s just as good.” 
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sofasoap · 1 month
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At the barbers
Pairing: John Price x F!Medic! Reader (call sign : Chameleon)
Summary: Part of @glitterypirateduck's John Price "O, Captain! Challenge" prompt used : 92: Giving Price a haircut and/or shave
Warning: T-M rating.
A/N: as mention previously in my Little secret series, Reader is from immigrant/non-Caucasian background. I know nothing about military. Thank you @mini-metal for giving me few suggestions and few ideas! *hugs*
Part of the Memory in a Fragrance series Part of Little secret series
Master list
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“Love.”
“Hmmm?” 
“Would you mind giving me a hand here please?” John struggled as he tried to lift his injured arm to trim his beard. 
You sighed. “I am only good with surgical knives and scissors.” You took the trimmer off his hand and gently pushed his arm down. “Why not go to a barber?” 
“.... I am not quite comfortable with someone holding a blade to my neck.” 
“And you are comfortable with ME doing it?” you cocked an eyebrow. 
He hummed. “That’s because you are my wife. I trust you with all my life.” he pressed a kiss into your forehead. Wrapping his good arm around you as you sink into his embrace. 
“Well I am flattered by the great Captain Price trusting me with a knife to his throat.” you giggled, “But I really wouldn’t trust myself to trim my own dead ends off, let alone take a risk of destroying your luscious mutton chop.” You could almost feel him rolling his eyes as he mumbled something incoherent.
“How about one of the boys helping you?”
“I don’t trust them either.” he rumbled. “I trust them with my life.. But I wouldn’t trust them NOT destroying my beard. I already heard them plotting to shave my beard off in my sleep a few times.” 
You couldn't help but laugh. “ Well… We gotta think of something. Can’t let you leave your hair and beard go until your arms heal….” 
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The strong leathery, lavender and cedarwood, faint hint of cigar smell hits you as soon as the two of you walk into the shop. The old radio playing some jazz music in the background, the old barber sitting on the wooden stool, reading the newspaper. It brings you distant memories. One of those rare happier moments when you were younger…. 
John finally agreed after a bit of coaxing from you to get his hair and beard done by the professional instead of you trying your luck. 
“I will go with you, how about that? And maybe I can learn a few tricks and tips from the professional?” you suggested. 
The barber waved to your husband to sit down on the chair after you explained to him what needs to be done. He was more than happy to teach you how to help John to maintain his pride and joy. 
Price couldn’t hold back his smile as he saw how focused and concentrated you are, pouting and wrinkling your nose as you listened to the barber explaining each step and how to use the tools. It helps to distract him from some strangers working so closely to him with sharp apparatus. The barber even handed over the scissors a few times for you to try out. 
“Stop moving, you are laughing too much.” you mumbled as you tried to trim the extra long strains around the edge of his jaw. “I don’t think you want me to accidentally take a chunk out of your beard, and have the boys laugh at you at work.” “I could always shave all my beard off.” “Oh so you changed your mind? You're definitely going to give them a heart attack and give me a heart break if you do that. So…  Never.” you laughed as you handed the scissors back to the barber. 
“You get to see Lieutenant John Price?” 
“As much as you were a handsome young man back then,I would rather keep that memory in the photos.” You pointed out as you sat back down, letting the professional get back to work. 
You observe your husband’s side profile with a faint smile on your face as the barber finishes off the rest of the trimming and hair cut. Even after years of marriage, you still have a hard time believing, this handsome man is your husband. 
The moment you set your eyes on him, you didn’t think you had much of a chance. The ranks, the personality, the background…. Everything. 
But he chose you. 
“I choose you? I should be thankful you chose me, my love.” he whispered into your ear one night after you confessed your insecurity. Nuzzling his face into your neck. “For bearing my temper…my imperfections.” 
“What do you think?” he looked at your eyes through the mirror as the barber dust the rest of the beard and hair off his shoulder, seeking for approval. 
Moving yourself to stand in front of him, you gently lay your hand on his face, tilting it to the left, and to the right, and finally, giving him a kiss on the lip, enjoying the smell of the aftershave.
“Handsome. And the best mutton chop I have ever seen.”
“You sound like you have seen quite a few in your life.” he chuckled as thank and paid the barber for his service.
“Maybe, maybe not.” you teased him as you wrap your arm around him. “But it’s definitely the mutton chop that always gives me a good time.” you could see his cheek redden under the beard. “Now, it’s not so scary is it? Having someone else to trim your beard for you.” 
“If you come with me again next time.” he squeezed your hand fondly.
“Gladly.”
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“Oh what, you mean we missed out a chance of trying to shave his beard off?” “And You will get your mohawk shaved off too if you do that, MacTavish.” 
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Thank you @glitterypirateduck for hosting another wonderful event!!!! *hug*
Tag list: @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world
@homicidal-slvt @mini-metal
@okayyadriana @deadbranch @cumikering @siilvan
@random-thot-generator @random0lover @devcica @nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @mmyrrhh
@mistydeyes, @groguspicklejar @roosterr
@gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot, @writeforfandoms @whydoilikewhump @tapioca-marzipan @alypink, @liyanahelena, @phoenixhalliwell
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fayes-fics · 1 year
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A Close Shave
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Summary: Benedict’s wife tries to help him get clean shaven…
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Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI due to brief mention of vaginal sex, flirting, teasing, shaving.
Word Count: 0.8k omg actually a Drabble holy shit, shame it’s not any of the Drabbles I’m supposed to be writing
Authors Note: Unbetaed. This is not what I’m supposed to be writing at all. Just a silly tiny piece, based on this anon fic request from 4 months ago. I hope you enjoy Nonny, although at this point you probably don’t even remember sending the ask lol <3
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“Stop that”, you admonish playfully as his hands run heavily down your sides and grasp your hips, pulling you onto the growing bulge in his trousers.
“Then don’t sit on me in such an appealing way, my love,” he smiles crookedly, a clump of shaving cream sliding down his neck at the movement.
“Benedict, are you really trying to distract a woman holding a cutthroat razor?” you raise an eyebrow waving your hand slightly to show the weapon you wield.
“Your offer to shave me was not meant to include you straddling me like this,” he answers drolly.
“How else am I supposed to do it?” you frown, looking at the chair he is reclined in and your surroundings.
“Stand behind my head?” he chuckles as if the answer is obvious.
“But then your face would be upside down, and I wouldn't be able to see under your chin; that’s a stupid idea,” you sniff dismissively.
“Well, I’m quite sure a barber would not be allowed to practice if they tried this technique,” he jests gently, his hands wrapping around your back, running fingers across your spine.
“What a shame for them. It’s really a rather nice seat,” you smirk and lightly gyrate your hips, pressing down on his rapidly hardening cock.
“You are just doing this for sport, aren’t you?” He shakes his head slightly in disapproval but doesn’t exactly look upset about it.
“Maybe,” you singsong, “but hold still, darling. You want to look nice for the ball later, do you not?”
“I want to fuck you more,” he says casually, but with a tone he knows flusters you every time.
“Benedict Bridgerton!!” You exclaim in mock outrage. Then lean down and whisper in his ear, “you had better. I’m not wearing any underwear today.”
His groan is lewd, and his hands flex on your body. “For god's sake, remove this shaving cream at once. We need to go to bed right now,” he asserts, pushing his pelvis up against you so much your feet leave the ground.
“Oh, I’m sorry, husband. I will only have sex with freshly shaven men today….” you tease, running a hand up the sheet covering his chest. “So lay still, and if you let me get this done, there will be time before we have to get ready.”
He is suddenly quiet and compliant.
You take a calming breath, then start to shave near his left ear. Little gentle motions as you hear his stubble rasp under the blade, wiping the cream onto the damp rag to your side. You make steady progress and just listen to the sound of his breathing, humming gently to yourself to maintain focus. But after a while, you just can’t resist a little flirtation, a slight tease.
“You are a very handsome man, husband,” you sigh as you watch more of his face being revealed.
“Don’t”, he warns, muffled, trying not to move his lips or face too much as you pass the sharp instrument over the round of his chin.
“What? I just speak the truth,” you shrug, lowering your face right over his. “Can I not tell my husband how attractive I find him? How much he arouses me?” You are goading him now.
His breath is a harsh exhale of hot air across your lips, and there is a pained noise from the very back of his throat. “Stop teasing me,” he grouses, narrowing his eyes.
“Oh, husband, that’s not a tease,” you chuckle. “A tease would be telling you I sat in the window and touched myself watching you fence with your brothers earlier. So very commanding with your epee.”
He growls and roughly pushes away the hand that holds the razor, and in surprise, you lose your hold on it, and it clatters to the floor loudly. He grips your wrist, breathing heavily, staring at you, lips parted slightly. “You did what?”
“You heard me,” you reply, feeling a little triumphant.
He roughly tugs your dress upwards around your thighs, grabs your hips, and you squeak as he stands up in one swift, fluid motion, wrapping your legs around him. He commandingly strides out of the bathroom and towards your bed. You feel his chest heaving against yours, his cock branding hot through his trousers at your inner thigh.
He throws you down on the bed, his face still half-covered in shaving cream. Crawling over your body.
“I believe I said I would only fuck a freshly shaven husband,” you point out, but your panting reveals the lie behind the words.
He gives up fighting the layers of your dress and just grabs the material and rips it all the way to your hip with a heated snarl.
“Sorry darling, half-shaved will have to do. You can’t tell me you touched yourself and not expect this,” his tone low and dangerous. You wind your arms tight around his shoulders, hands clutching the back of his neck as he unbuttons his trousers roughly and spears into you hard, hot, and so very invasive.
“Fuckkkk,” you call out with a gusty exhale, throwing your head back and closing your eyes. God, you will never tire of that feeling.
An hour later, when Eloise asks why you have whipped cream on your neck, you realise you missed a cleanup spot. Benedict’s smirk is priceless.
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Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld
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moonchild-in-blue · 29 days
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Vessel may not allow his chest hair to grow, but he will let someone else shave him. The boys low key have fought to be the one to do it (II wins quite easily when he really wants it but when III really wants it too he picks him up and throws him). So they go in the shower and the other shaves him (with the 😳 face) as he just watches, giving directions and praising. Grinning. The other gets to be the first one to feel his smooth skin. IDK i just have thoughts so yeah have actual new voobies content красива
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Cheers bro 🥂
WII I AMM I AM SJWOANALDNS OAKU?? SHAVJGN VOOBS CONTEMT OKAUURIRR
I AM UNWELL RAAA EEEEEEK ARF ARF ARF DK YOI HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HOT I FIND SHAVIGM OMGGFF WITH TEH OLD BARBER SI LVER BLADES WEEEEE YIPEEEEE
Okay consider this. Vessel convinces iii to shave his chest just once. And you know my boy's got FUZZ. So obviously he's the one to do it. In the shower? Bathroom? No. He will have iii lie down on a towel and straddle his babygworl hips and pull a Sugar on him. As such:
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Shenanigans ensue. Use that brilliant brain of yours to fill in the gaps.
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fairuzfan · 3 months
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Also really quickly, I wanted to mention that usually while the women are at the Henna Night, the men have their own gathering. Sahraa Al Zalame (closest I can translate is "staying up at night/gathering, men") takes place at the grooms home/village, and usually set up outdoors, there's a music singer/group or DJ, sometimes a dancing group is hired, there's sweets and drinks and lots of men just having a great time dancing/socializing. One memory I have is when I spent time on a nearby roof with my girl cousins watching as little boys lit up small fireworks, old men smoked and played cards, hookahs, coffee, sweets, fathers hold their babies & small boys, the young men dancing. The Groom and his friends/family lifting him up in the air. I love seeing how our men are celebrated and made to feel part of the wedding celebration in their own way, and of course the Shaving of the Groom. Days before the Wedding the Groom will stop shaving so he looks unkempt, then on that night they have a barber, or friend/family, who shaves the Groom's beard (sometimes old fashioned razor with the long blade are used sometimes modern ones) as he sits in a chair while others are around him in circle, the singer sings "it's time to shave the groom, he must be (Am Nouweer) lit up/glowing for his wedding, shave the groom, he is the most handsome of men" and other lyrics that often vary from family/region. I find it a very charming tradition that shows how just as the bride is going through her own transition from girl to womanhood, so is the groom transitioning from boy to manhood. Also when the groom's family douses him in shaving cream at the end sometimes its really funny. lol. But yeah Henna Night is exclusively for women, but the Sharaa is for men but sometimes women from the groom's side are in attendance too. It just depends on the family tbh. If the Bride and Groom are from the same village/town then some nights we would be at the Bride's for the Henna then walk over to Groom's house to watch the Sahraa of the men. I miss those summer nights because the feeling of celebration and community was so strong and beautiful. Anyways this is long, but I love our wedding traditions.
End.
omg i love these wedding traditions sooooo much. thank you so much for sharing i love learning about this.
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Together We’re Insecure
Ok, this is for @longer-than-i-should-admit ​ I’d like to Super Apologize for taking so long to do this! I’ve been busy and super distracted so I hope that you enjoy this! If not I’ll happily rewrite it, and it will be put up far faster than this one! 
Everyone else! Don’t worry! Today is a writing day, I just woke up a little early, but I will be up a little later tonight, so I should be able to pump out quite a few requests so be on the lookout! 
This request was for a reader helping Arthur out with his Insecurities only for him to realize that the reader has some of their own, and he needs to offer some help himself! 
Warnings: Fluff, Arthur being insecure, reader being insecure, lil angsty y’all, that should be about it 
Tags: @kieropal @mrsarthurmorgan7 @6kaja9 @cantchoosejust1 @photo1030​ @pcotarelo ​ 
Let’s get into it! 
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You smiled as you cupped Arthur’s face in your left hand, taking a pair of clean barber scissors gently to his beard with the right hand.
He offered you a weak smile as he held onto your waist with the lightest of touches.
“Come on Arthur,” You kiss his forehead before continuing to trim his beard. “I can see that look in your eyes, what’s going on inside that head of yours?” 
He closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh, you could see him grinding his teeth, no matter how hard he tried to keep it subtle.
“That’s not really an answer.” You chuckle.
“It ain’t nothin’.” He finally answers you, his voice is quiet, not a whisper, but it’s not his normal volume.
“Come on big man, you know I’ll always listen to you.” 
Again he sighs, but finally he looks you in the eye.
“There’s those beautiful eyes of yours.” You mutter.
You watch as a red haze covers his face, and you chuckle.
“I jus’...I been thinkin’. That’s all. You know how I get.” 
“I know, why do you think I offered to shave you this morning huh?” You kiss the tip of his nose, and listen to him huff, though it sounds a bit more playful than anything. “So, tell me what you’re thinking about.” 
He’s silent for a moment, but then finally lets out a small sigh.
“Jus’...You know how I think, you know I got...them issues...I jus’...” He pauses, but only for a second. “Last night, you were cuddled up to me, ya jus’...looked so sweet, damn near perfect, and I just....I feel like...Y/N I ain’t good enough for you. Just look at me.” 
“I am looking at you.” You smile again, and sigh as you continue to trim. “I see a handsome man, maybe he’s a little scraggly, but that’s what I’m here for, take care of that rats nest he calls a beard.” 
He snorts, but you can tell he isn’t convinced.
“I also see a kind, and caring man, who claims to be a horrible monster, even though everything he does is to take care of his family.” 
“That don’t excuse-”
“You’re right, killing is never a good thing, never, and neither is robbing, or conning, you’re probably gonna go to hell, if it’s real.” You laugh a little as he slumps his shoulders and grumbles under his breath. “But, everything you’re doing is keeping all of us at camp alive.” 
You hum quietly as you place the scissors down, switching to the razor blade. 
“You’re taking care of all the women in camp, providing food for everyone, keeping us safe with your guns, you’re strong, and you have a good head on your shoulders. You’re doing things that are regrettable, I’ll admit that. You aren’t a perfect man by any means, but Arthur, you are a good man, you’re just in circumstances that require you to do these things.” 
You let go of his face for a moment, just to kiss him properly, placing your lips against his gently, happy when he returns it.
You pull back and look him in the eyes.
“Now, try to tell me that you aren’t good enough for me one more time Mister.” 
“Just cause you say all that shit don’t make it true.” He sighs, and reaches for your hand where you’d rested it against his shoulder. He kisses the back of it, and looks up at you, that familiar sadness resting in his eyes. 
“I’m waitin’ for the day I wake up and you ain’t in my cot no more. Waitin’ to wake up and see a letter from you on my table tellin’ me that you’ve had enough of my shit. Darlin’...I just....I care about you so much, and ya make me so happy, I can’t help but think about it. I want you to be happy, to get what’s best for ya, and I just...I feel like I ain’t doin’ it.” 
“Stop that.” You kiss his forehead again. “You do plenty for me. You bring me gifts all the time, tell me how much you love me, you do everything and more that I could ever wish for.” 
If anyone should be nervous it should be me.
“You’re handsome, you’re smart, and don’t say you aren’t, you pretend you aren’t but I know that you are, you’re sweet, you can be sensitive when you need to be, and you’ve defended me more times than I can count. You’re more than good enough for me.” 
He lets another deep sigh escape, and simply grabs your waist a little tighter, watching as you go to finish shaving his face.
“I love you.” He mumbles. 
“I love you too Arthur Morgan. Now, let’s try to be a little more positive, okay? Today is a good day, the sun is out, we’re out of the mountains, you don’t have any jobs to go on right at the moment, today it’s just me and you, remember?” 
“You’re right, you’re right, you always are. ‘M sorry. How about you an’ me go out to the saloon, get somethin’ warm to eat and then we can go to the hotel and get cleaned up a little, okay?” 
“Sounds good, as long as I’m with you.” He smiles at you finally, and you can’t help but smile back, it’s nearly contagious, that little grin of his. You love it when he smirks, when he’s confident. It’s so handsome to you. He’s handsome always, you know that, but to see him believe in himself, to see him be confident in the way he is, it was something different.
You continue to shave his beard, leaving that stubble of his that you love so much, and then quietly you place the razor down, on the table.
“Okay cowboy, let’s get into town, okay?”
You stare into the full length mirror settled in the corner of the Strawberry hotel. You hadn’t thought he would have taken you this far out of camp, but here you were, in a beautiful hotel room, with the man you love so much, yet you can’t stop thinking about the way you look in that mirror.
If anyone had anything to worry about in this relationship it wasn’t Arthur.
It was you.
You worried everyday that you weren’t going to be good enough for him, that you weren’t beautiful enough, that you weren’t the right size, the right shape.
You worried that you weren’t strong enough.
He did all these things, every day, he did these things that took so much strength, both mentally and physically, and you, you weren’t anything in comparison. 
He meant the world to you, and the thought of him leaving you, dying, hating you, deciding that you weren’t good enough, anything like that....it just made your heart sink, it made your stomach knot.
He was such a good man, who did these fantastic feats, and what were you? 
Someone who was plain. Who simply couldn’t compare to him, at least not fairly. 
The door opened and you forced a smile on your face as Arthur came in.
He was in much higher spirits now, grinning as he looked at you.
“C’mon Darlin’ lets go take a bath, I got it paid for us.” 
You simply nod and walk towards him, taking his hand as he sticks it out.
Your stomach bubbles, like you’ve eaten something that doesn’t agree with you, but you try to ignore it, looking at Arthur.
For a moment it helps, his presence.
As you enter the bathroom he closes the door and locks it quietly. 
He kisses the back of your head and then moves to undress, placing his clothes on the chair sitting off to the side of the bath.
You try not to stare, but you find yourself staring anyway. It’s nearly impossible not to, he’s absolutely stunning, the way the light from the window falls across his skin.
His back muscles look tense from where you stand, and in general you’re sure he’ll be happy to settle in the hot water for a while.
You watch as he climbs into the tub and settles, in the water, letting out a long relieved groan. He places his arms along the side of the tub and leans his head against the back.
“C’mon Y/n, there’s space here for ya, jus’ lay against me.”
You swallow, and look to the floor.
“I...I think I’ll be okay Arthur, I’ll just sit here and talk to you, okay?”
He furrows his brow and leans his head back up, looking at you with a confused sort of stare.
“Darlin’ what are you talkin’ about? You were just sayin’ how you needed a bath just yesterday.”
“I...I changed my mind.” 
He blinks and shuffles in the tub, sloshing the water as he sits up.
“Darlin’, what...I...What’s goin’ on, is it me? You jus’ don’t wanna bathe with me, or somethin’?” 
“No, no! It’s not you at all!” You sigh and swallow as you move a little closer to the bath. Quietly you reach your hand down and take his from the side of the tub, rubbing your thumb back and forth over it.
“It isn’t you at all,” You admit. “I just...I...it’s me Arthur.” 
“What the hell are you talkin’ about.” 
You sigh and look up.
“I...Arthur I try not to talk about it, because I know...I know you have your own things going on, and I care about you so much, too much to burden you with what’s going on with me-”
“Sweetheart, if somethin’s botherin’ you tell me, please.” He looks up to you, nearly with puppy dog eyes, and it’s almost impossible to ignore him.
“Arthur, I just....This morning? Comforting you, I love to do it, I don’t have an issue telling you how much I love you, how much I care about you, how important you are, I have no problem with that at all...but Arthur, I....I feel the same way you do about myself, all the time.” 
“Darlin’-”
“Arthur I can’t compare to you, there's no way for me to. You’re so...you’re handsome, you’re strong, you’re everything I tell you all the time, look at me, there’s nothing I have to compare to you.”
“Now that ain’t-”
“I’m not strong, not physically, not mentally, not like you. I’m not nearly as beautiful enough to be yours, you deserve someone on your arm who can compare with the way you look. You deserve someone who doesn’t look like me.”
“Hey now-”
“You’re absolutely...just...you’re stunning, you’re handsome, there’s so many words I can’t get out that would describe you right. I’m...If anything I’m average Arthur. Every time we get anywhere close to me having to take off my clothes in front of you I panic.” 
“Y/N-” 
“Arthur if anyone in this relationship should be worried it’s me-” 
“Stop that!” Finally Arthur huffs, his brows knitted together as he stares up at you.
He grabs your forearm and pulls you down so your face is closer to his.
“You are the absolute most gorgeous person I’ve ever met in my entire life. I tell you that all the time, you know I do, it’s why I’m always so worried about us, I feel inferior because you’re so much better than me. I never want to hear you speak to me like that about yourself ever again.” 
“Arthur-”
“No, you listen to me now.” 
He pauses and takes a deep breath.
“You know that I think you’re gorgeous, you know I think you’re beautiful, and if I could I’d give you the world. I don’t care if you ain’t strong, that’s why I’m here. I’m here to keep you safe, that’s all that matters. As long as you are safe, safe and alive. I love you. I will always love you, and no matter what I’m gonna be here.”
He closes his eyes and lowers his voice to a quieter tone. 
“I love all of ya, and if you ain’t comfortable enough to get undressed around me then that ain’t somethin’ wrong with you that’s somethin’ wrong with me, cause I should be makin’ you comfortable.” 
You pull your hand away from him, feeling a little bit of warmth flood through you.
He really was the perfect man. 
You swallow and try to push your insecurities away.
He made you comfortable, not once did he ever say something to you that would make you feel as though he didn’t care for you, or not love you, nor did he ever make you feel as though you weren’t beautiful. It was other people who made you feel that way.
You undress yourself quietly, and avoid looking at yourself as you make your way to the bath.
Arthur’s hand finds your thigh as you go to step in the water and he gives you a comforting pat as you climb in.
You let the hot water come over your skin as you settle in between Arthur’s legs, and lean your head against his chest.
His arms find their way under the water and around your waist, slow and gentle as they settle there.
“You’re my world Darlin’, I don’t want you to think otherwise ever.”
“It isn’t because of you.” You sigh and close your eyes, letting the smallest of smiles cross your face as he kisses the top of your head. “It’s the other people around, not you at all. You’ve never done anything to make me feel less than human. I just...I guess other people’s opinions just stuck with me.” 
“Well, I’ll always be here to tell you otherwise, I hope you know that. I ain’t ever gonna leave ya.” 
“It’s the same for you Arthur, I’ll always be for you. Always.” 
“I guess together we’re pretty insecure huh?” 
“Mhm...”You sigh and lean to kiss a part of his chest that you’re able to reach. “I’ll work on it Arthur, I promise. I’ll do my best.” 
“You already do your best...I feel bad I ain’t....I never...I didn’t know.” 
“Don’t feel bad about it.”
“No promises.” He chuckles, and for what feels like the first time that day you laugh with him, and suddenly you feel a little lighter.
You know eventually those feelings will return, but you also know as long as Arthur is with you he’ll make you feel better.
You did it for him, every time he had one of his moments you were there for him, and you knew that he’d do the same. 
Things would be okay, as long as the two of you were insecure together. 
Okok, I hope you like this! If you don’t let me know and I’ll be happy to take another stab at it! Our poor boy, he just needs a little love, but so do you, and he’ll always be there to make sure you get it.
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scratchandplaster · 2 months
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FEBUWHUMP DAY 25 - Waterboarding
CW: bickering like an old couple, blades, shaving
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
"Hell no, you get that out of here!"
"How else am I supposed to do it? You didn't want to take a bath, so that's how it goes," Chris sighed and shielded Elliot's eyes with a cupped hand.
The spray bottle grumbled a few times before a thin misting dampened the thick hair.
"If you don't want to take care of yourself," Chris explained dramatically to cancel the grumble, "I'll have to do it for you."
Combing the strands of hair into his face made him look even more upset; like a wet cat, Chris thought, but refrained from laughing. The curtain that shielded Elliot from his hobby stylist was slowly cut away by a pair of shiny scissors, dull enough not to make him flinch.
He was too tired to ask how he got in such a situation again. At least Chris left the rope alone this time.
All around him, chunks of hair fell onto his shoulders. When the chips were down and Morris dared to fuck his hairdo up too, Elliot really didn't have anything more to lose.
"If you give me a bowl cut, I'll kill you."
Finally, the scissors were dropped into the sink and replaced by an electric hum as something was clicked in the outlet. The razor came down carefully, shaving millimeter after millimeter away from his nape and sides. Elliot didn't dare to flinch. His head was turned back and forth, sprayed down again, combed and trimmed under Morris' attention.
"Everything alright, Ell?"
"Mhh," he growled.
"Want a peek?"
"Oh, you're good at this," Elliot was dumbfounded when he looked into the tiny hand mirror Chris gave him. A bit shorter than he preferred, but nevertheless he could recognize himself again.
"Just like when we met," Chris gushed, the innocent comment leaving a sour taste in Elliot's mouth, "I had a lot of time to practice. After all, I always did my brothers' hair too!"
"There are more of you?!"
"Yeah, five of 'em."
Damn, Mama Morris had been busy. He didn't feel eager to meet them anytime soon.
Unexpectedly, the chair Elliot was sitting in tilted back. Shaving cream was patiently dabbed onto his face, not that there was much to work with.
Slowly and carefully, a single blade scraped along his skin and made Elliot's heart jump. 
"Shhh, don't move."
No matter how different he acted since then, the combination of Chris and sharp objects sent sweats of terror down his back. Elliot pressed his eyes shut and let Morris work.
Slow, precise strokes continued up his neck and chin, only interrupted by wiping the razor on a towel draped over his arm. Sporadically, a shallow breath escaped under the cold steel.
As another warm towel was placed over his face, Elliot knew it was over. Yet to reap his reward, the friendly barber pressed a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist]
@febuwhump
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“I can teach you how to use that,” Baurus says, pointing to the sword she’s holding away from herself like it might swing back and bite her.
“Sure,” she says, eyebrows raised, “but maybe I should learn from someone with more experience being a teacher rather than a student.”
He frowns. His face is all big soft doe eyes and long lashes and not a line to be seen. He always introduces himself as the youngest Blade in history, and he’s so proud of it that she still has not figured out how to tell him that inducting men whose voices still crack when they’re flustered into his personal secret guard sounds like the kind of thing that makes you lose faith in an emperor. “I’m good. Really. Here,” he pulls himself up a little straighter and makes his expression serious, “tell me what you used to do and I’ll use metaphors about it.”
“I’m a barber,” Molly tells him. She switches the sword to her other hand to wipe her sweaty palm on the outside of her thigh. “Please don’t do the metaphors.”
“Okay, a b—really? A barber?” He squints at her, skeptical. “You weren’t.”
“No, I am.”
He tilts his head and says thoughtfully, “Well, alright, I guess. Can you pretend it’s just… half a pair of scissors, and the daedra are hair?”
It’s her turn now to squint back at him incredulously. “…no.”
“But if you could—”
“It’s not going to work, kid.”
Baurus twitches the corners of his mouth disapprovingly, in a passable mimicry of Jauffre, and moves her elbow to bring the sword closer to her center of gravity. “If you don’t even know how to hold it, how did you fight them the first time, in Kvatch?”
For just a moment, nausea wrings out her whole torso like a dishrag. She nearly drops the sword, but doesn’t, because it’s just a word and she’s heard it her whole life and she is here, in the freezing Jeralls, in the sunlight. She’s fine. She inhales. Exhales. Counts to twenty. That’s supposed to be in a different order, she thinks, but what does it matter?
He’s still looking at her like he expects an answer. “I had,” she says thickly, smoke in her throat and ash on her tongue, count again one-two-three-four-five— “a rake.” To twenty. To twenty. She'll make it to a hundred in increments of twenty before her mouth tastes right and the bile leaves her throat, at this rate.
For a moment Baurus doesn’t seem to know what to say. “Huh,” he says at last, and then, “alright. Would you rather a mace? Something blunt?”
“No.” This armor goes with a sword, in the way nineteen comes before twenty. She will learn the sword. Anything else would be—wrong. Molly shuffles her feet to match how he’s standing and shifts her jaw, drags her teeth across each other in a way that hurts all the way up to her temples, swallows the taste of daedric blood. “Show me.”
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Note
hi first of all i love your adcu work and second i would like to request the boys with a partner that is either on a a lot of med like i am just a comfort write if you would be comfortable doing that kind of work or if not i would like to see if you have not done any already the type of aftercare each boy would do for the reader
Hiiiiiiiiiii thank you for your ask and thank you for liking my work, it means so much!💕
I am 100% comfortable with that type of work. I've gone with my instincts - in terms of vibe, the few boys I've chosen but also meaning behind 'meds' - but if it isn't what you were hoping for or I'm WAY off please do leave me another message and I'm happy to amend ❤
Warnings: Discussions of doctors, health, mental health and medication.
Charlie Barber
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“I know it’s hard,” Charlie said softly, his large hand rubbing circles between your shoulder blades as he watched you pick up your third little bottle of rattling pills.
You huffed, “Actually, no you don’t. Your body works perfectly fine.”
Charlie smiled knowingly, pressing a kiss into your hair, “Now, my age would beg to differ but I appreciate you thinking so.”
You picked up a fourth and final bottle of medication and shook one into your palm to join the myriad of others; all sorts of shapes, sizes and colours all creating a pretty mosaic that made your tongue taste bitter.
Slamming it down you huffed once more, “Your body is perfect and you know it.”
You tipped the handful of meds into your mouth, chugged back a gulp of water and tipped your head back, allowing them to begrudgingly slip down your throat.
“And so is yours!” he protested, an indignant tone taking over his voice. Charlie spun you to face, careful not to startle you too much that you spill the water in your glass.
He paused for a moment, making sure you’d seen the steadfast expression on his face, “So is yours…” he repeated slowly, “These meds just help it to function better, and you deserve that. You and your beautiful self, mind body and soul, deserve to be able to live.”
You chewed at your bottom lip harshly, trying to distract your brain from the tears pooling in your eyes. “I thought you were supposed to be the director, not the dramatic actor,” you mumbled, teasingly.
Charlie shrugged, “I dabble,” he teased back.
Adam Sackler
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His demanding cough was enough for you to realise what he was hinting at; Adam stood over you at the table after he’d picked up the empty breakfast plates and put them on the side in the kitchen.
He’d returned with your bottle of medication and put it in front of you. Expressionless you looked up at him as he loomed over you, “I don’t need them.”
“Bullshit kid.”
“Okay, I do but I don’t WANT to need them. I’m fine without them… sometimes.” The tone of Adams voice brought an embarrassed pink tinge to your cheeks, “So, the month you spent not taking them, and collapsed on my living room floor just… doesn’t count?”
You rolled your eyes, knowing you were talking utter nonsense and that he was completely right. You tipped two pills int your palm, tossed them into your mouth and swallowed. Adam handed you a small yellow glass for you to sip some water. When you took it you glanced a look up to his face, he smiled ever so slightly but his eyebrows were still pulled down with worry.
Then, following the same routine you did every morning, you stuck out your tongues in time with each other. You following the movements of his tongue like a mimic so he could check the meds were gone.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, but right now he didn’t trust you. And that was ok, sometimes not trusting someone to be on their own for a little while is how you care for them best.
Sackler had moved into your apartment, he’d said it was just for a few weeks to keep an eye on you so you weren’t by yourself. But at this point you thought he’d never leave, but the soft smile you gave him back meant you leaned more towards wanting him to stay.
It felt nice having someone here.
Picking up prescriptions was easier when someone was poking you in the back to get you through the door, taking medication every morning was easier when someone cooked you breakfast to go with it and the lower moments were easier when there was a more rational brain around to argue with yours.
He sat down in the chair next to you, eyes not leaving your face, “I got you kid.”
Paterson
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Paterson’s smile was enough to make this moment even more joyous than it already felt.
“It’s been 3 months,” you said, grinning up at him, “3 months on these things and I’m feeling… better.”
You turned your grin down to the three orange bottles of pills you’d gathered up into your hands. You both sat together at the dining table, finishing up a dinner that Paterson had lovingly cooked when he got home from work.
It was honestly a moment you never saw coming, your doctor had taken you through so many trail/error phases that you thought ‘better’ was a pipedream. You weren’t fixed but damn it you were finally getting better!
 “A long time coming,” Paterson said quietly, a man of few words but each one meant something. He made sure of it.
Reaching across the table he patted your hand before linking his fingers with yours, “You stuck with it, even when it was hard…”
“And it was a hard a lot!” You interrupted with a soft chuckle.
Paterson nodded knowingly, his smile still stretched up his cheeks, “But you did it, you persevered and you did it. I know it’s not what you wanted but this feels like… a future.”
It was your turn to nod, blinking out tears that dripped down your cheeks, “It’s not…” you hesitated with a heavy sigh, “I know this doesn’t fix anything, I know I’m still… sick… but I feel like I can live now. I can actually live! So yeah… a future. Our future.”
Paterson lowered his head with a low laugh, “Oh my love, it’s yours. I’m just happy to be along for the journey.”
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asleepinawell · 1 year
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one of my favorite perches to chill on while waiting for ivalice to not happen
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last-flight-of-fancy · 6 months
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time for some fluffy ff14 fic bc it's faster to write than draw. takes place between ShB and EW but i dont think contains any particularly major spoilers for either of those expansions.
WoL: Hallima, he/they Au Ra
Bonding time with the twins and a haircut
Hallima hears the door open to their room just a little too late, and for one panicked moment considers trying to hide before dismissing that idea out of hand. Absolutely nothing in this room had a single hope of successfully hiding their not insignificant bulk, and even trying would only make them look foolish.
Well, more foolish, as is proven when Alisiaie takes one step through the threshold, sees Hallima, and snorts laughter at them in a decidedly unladylike manner.
Alphinaud peers around her shoulder, curious, and though he doesn't double over the way Alisaie now is, he isn't fast enough to cover his mouth before Hallima can see it.
"Yeah, yeah, yuck it up." They grumble, trying in vain to smooth away stray hairs and look even somewhat presentable. This fails.
"Pray tell, what are you even doing?" Alphinaud asks, hand still over his mouth but the laugh in his voice is unmistakable.
"Practicing my High Jump, what's it look like I'm doing?"Hallima is not pouting as they drop their scissors onto the wooden cabinet in front of them, and if it looks like they are then clearly it's the lip paint they're wearing (a very nice shade of blue-purple only a touch darker than their skin tone) and they need to change it immidietly. "You could have knocked."
"We did." Alisiaie puts her hands on her hips, still grinning but having regained her composure.
"Okay, maybe that was a sily question." Alphinaud says. "How about this then; why are you attempting to cut your own hair when I'm sure you could find a perfectly good barber just downstairs?"
"I didn't want anything complicated, just... Shorter." This statment of fact is followed by Hallima catching sight of themself in the mirror, which they give a baleful look.
"Uh huh." Alisaie gives them a once over. "And how's that going?"
Hallima deigns not to answer, grumbling under their breath and picking up the scissors again. 
"Hey now," Alphinaud stepsforward, making Hallima pause. He turns to Alisaie. "Surely we could render some assistance?"
"We certainly cannot do any worse." Alisiaie taps a finger to her chin in consideration.
"Do I not get a say in this?" Hallima asks flatly, already knowing the answer.
"After seeing what you've managed so far? Not a chance." Alisaie snorts, plucking the scissors from their hand and tugging them down to where the much shorter twins can reach more easily.
"Maybe I should do the cutting?" Alphinaud offers. "Seeing as how I am the one with some level of artistic inclination."
"An artist you may be but practiced with blades you are not." Alisaie counters, holding the scissors over her head when he reaches for them. "I'll do the cutting, you can give me your vaunted aesthetic opinion while I work."
Alphinaud pouts, but it's not a serious thing, and the two set to work with an ease that belies their complete lack of experiance. Hallima decides to hold still and let them at it with only a mild amount of trepidation.
(The twins were right after all, they couldn't possibly do worse than what Hallima himself had managed, which was an utter disaster.)
(Why do lizard people have hair anyway? This was a question that had never occured to Hallima before their trip to the Azim Steppe, assuming as they had that they were some kind of freak mutation. Anything goes with that kind of assumption. Knowing theirs is an entire species of dragon kin however, had rather turned quite a bit on its head.
Not that Hallima thinks about it much. Only deep in the night when sleep eludes them once more. Or when they're being forced to sit still while a couple of teenagers wave a pair of scissors dangerously close to their face.)
"Like so?" Alisaie says, taking Halima by the chin and turning their head. Alphinaud makes a humming noise.
"It's not bad. Maybe if we-"
"There's not much left to work with there-"
"I learned to do these braids back in-"
Hallima zones out again. The kids will either figure it out or Hallima will just have to go bald for a while. Not their favourite look, but it wouldn't be the first time.
(Hallima has more than enough money to pay a barber. Spends gratuitous amounts of it on weapons and armour in fact, but old habits died hard, and old habits insisted that money was to be spent on necessities only.)
"There!" Alisaie announces, grinning and proud, prompting Hallima to return to reality. "What do you think?"
Hallima looks into the mirror, and is surprised to find it's not terrible. Much shorter than initially intended, but that had been a forgone conclusion before the twins had even so much as made their appearance. Tight braids run in parallel waves across the sides, which Hallima has to turn their head to see clearly around their horns.
"They're supposed to stay in without needing to be redone every day." Alisaie says. "Though knowing our lives I'm not sure how true that would be for you."
"It looks great." Hallima says, with a genuine smile. "Thank you."
"You're most welcome." Alphinaud answers for both of them. "I'm still surprised though. Did you really hate the ponytail that much?"
"No, actually." Hallima shakes their head. "But with how things have been lately, I've barely had time to get my armour on sometimes, let alone deal with things like putting up my hair."
"I did notice you'd been leaving it down more often lately." Alisaie says, thinking back.
"And it was getting in the way." Hallima sighs. "I don't know how Estinian does it."
"And yet your makeup is always perfect." Alphinaud's tone is teasing.
"You can thank Aymeric for that, actually." Hallima chuckles, opening a drawer to reveal a wide number of small jars in a rainbow of colours. "When we left Ishagard he got me these enchanted paints as a parting gift. They're made to stay days at a time before needing to be reapplied. Much like your braids." Hallima nods to Alisaie.
"I think I've heard of these." Alphinaud leans over the drawer, taking in the array. "They're quite expensive though, even for Aymeric this many must have cost a pretty gil."
"Oh the first set was only three colours. He sends me new shades every couple weeks or so. I think there were eight waiting in my mail after we got everything sorted out in the First."
"Does he now." Alisaie's tone and raised eyebrow imply a great deal, which Hallima resolutely ignores.
"Still, these are only meant for the lips." Alphinaud interrupts whatever Alisaie might have said next. "That doesn't explain the eyeliner."
Hallima blinks.
"What eyeliner?"
"Wh- you mean to tell me that's just how they look?"
"Yes?"
Alisaie tugs on Hallima once more, and they try not to fidget as they stare down a very intent young elezen.
"Yup it's not eyeliner, they really are just like that." She pronounces. "You lucky bas-"
"Language." Alphinaud primly reminds, to which Alisaie pokes her tongue out at him.
Hallima feels themself smile, and then laugh in truth, a much needed lift to their mood after... everything.
They catch Alphinaud's gaze lingering over the frankly absurd number of coloured bottles, and has an idea.
"Considering how long those last, I have no idea how I'm going to get through them all. Would you like to help me?"
"Really?" Alphinaud is somehow surprised (he should know better by now, honestly), while Alisaie positively lights up in excitement, diving into the drawer and sifting through the colours like the kid she is.
"What have you got in red?" She asks, already pulling bottles out and setting them aside. Hallima's grin grows.
"Well, if you're sure..." Alphinaud hesitates a single second more, and then joins his sister with equal enthusiasm.
Hallima makes a silent (suckers) bet with themself that he picks some shade of blue.
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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years
Text
Rumplestiltskin, Part 6
Summary: you learn the truth, in many different ways
Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader, Lance Tucker X Reader
Rating: mild
Warnings:  language, corruption, lies, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 1.6K
Previous
Series Masterlist
*dividers created by @firefly-graphics​
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Andy steps through your door, and you jump up, excited to see him back before nightfall, “I missed you this morning,” your fingers pet over his luscious beard, and you smile wide at him, “Everything okay?”
Andy shakes his head, leading you back to your meager bed. Your eyes dart around the room, trying to find anything to say when Andy notices a chain around your neck. Pulling out Lance’s medallion he gives it a long look, before looking up at you, “Where did you get this?”
“If I tell you, you’ll be mad. It’s not…”
“Miss, where did you get this? It isn’t your pendant,” Andy gives away no emotion as he stares at you, which only makes you more angry.
“You can call me Aurelia.”
“Why?” There was anger in his voice. Confusion, and you feel untrust creeping a thick wedge in between you and Andy.
Turning to look in front of you, you lift your chin, “It means golden.”
“It means the golden one. You spin a few blades of straw into gold, and now you need a name change? Or would there be more to it? Aurelia? Where did you get the medallion?”
“I didn’t have a choice,” you blurt out. Turning to look at him, your head tilts to the side. Tears well in your eyes, but you’re too proud to let them fall. “Ransom would have killed me if I didn’t turn that disgusting hay into gold. You realize that? I would have been dead!”
“I could have saved you!”
“You couldn’t even marry me,” Andy yanks at the medallion, but it clings tightly to your neck. Not allowing him to remove it. A soft glow radiates from the gold and he drops it.
“What did you do?” He asks. His voice cold and dark.
“Nothing that is any concern to you.”
“Faeries? Faeries is your solution? What did you bargain for, pray tell? You give up your cunt to this faerie? Is it his child growing in your belly?” You slap him across the face, and he knocks you back to lay on the bed crawling on top of you. But when the tears can no longer hold their position, and your face shines with your saline trails, he backs away.
“You don’t understand, Future King of Pamona. I am but a peasant girl. Kept in captivity until I fail Ransom’s requests. I wanted you, Andy! I want you!”
“What did he ask for?” Andy’s own eyes betray him, and seeing such a strong and noble man cry, it stings your heart. “You’re no longer just mine are you?”
“I’m always yours. I offered my first born child with…” you can’t even finish your sentence before he’s on his knees in front of you. Head in your lap, while he presses his hand over your stomach.
“But this is ours. Tell me, it’s ours.”
“You’re the only one I’ve been with.”
“You gave our baby up.”
“For my life,” you assure him, lifting his head up to look at you. “I promised him my firstborn child with Ransom. He can’t touch our baby,” with a staggered breath Andy Looks up at you. Confusion printed on his face as he tries to comprehend what you said.
“I would rather lose my child than raise Ransom’s. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t live in this castle with you, while Ransom’s spawn followed me around. Lance can not take our baby from me.”
“You’ve tricked a faerie, Miss…Aurelia. The devil always collects his debts.”
“There is nothing he can take from me. I will gift him back his medallion. I’ll have no use of it once Ransom has collected his gold. I will bargain with Ransom to let me live down here, while I am with child, so no one knows. I’ll continue making the man his hoard of gold. And you, you will do something about our predicament,” Andy slowly nods his head while he thinks of a plan.
“Ransom will not have me. I will not marry, unless it is you. This child is no bastard. It is yours, my King. My everything. My true love. But you have to get rid of him. He’s a cruel and a depraved madman. He is toying with both our emotions. You are the future and rightful heir to the throne.”
“No, I’m not,” Andy takes a deep breath, before bowing his head, “You are, my queen.”
“I am but a poor peasant girl.”
“Your father already confirmed it. My tyrant father seized the throne from your mother. Or he would have, but she and your father fled. Hid in a small cottage on the outskirts of the kingdom. You are the rightful heir to the throne of Palmona.”
You shake you head, pressing your hand against his cheek, “I don’t want it, my King.”
“Change your mind then. I will do as you ask. You keep our baby safe. Let our little one grow and get strong. I will marry you.”
“And we will rule as equals.”
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Leaning up against the wall, Lance tries to make himself appear more appealing to you. His pants had gotten lower. The deep v’s on his hips more visible. He decorated his body with golden faerie runes, and he always let his onyx wings free. He no longer was ashamed of their color. You had made him feel he was no more corrupt than his brother, Castiel.
“Living as a creature with mostly males is lonely,” he sighs. His wings spread out, and he lets you see their brilliant color, despite being as dark as coal.
“Are fae creatures only allowed to mate with other fae creatures?”
“No, but humans no longer trust us. A few sour deals, and we become an afterthought. Most don’t even believe in our existence, until we land in front of them,” you stop your motions, turning to look at him.
“Why did you appear to me?”
“We feel deeper than most creatures. It’s like a siren calling us to you. Distress, heartbreak, jealousy, vanity, greed,” he nods his head at you. “Yes, corruption happens to all higher beings. You’re not the only one in the castle making deals.”
“Has Andy?”
“No,” he chuckles, turning his back to you, “Andy is too pure. Despite him sullying your body.”
“Don’t speak so freely about my king. I will not warn you again to hold your tongue when speaking ill of him.”
“Ahh, spoken like a true queen,” you turn away from him as well, turning your nose up. “Us brothers talk, Aurelia. I know all about your family. Living in the castle as a lie. Should the king find out, you and that bastard in your belly will perish.”
You stand, trying to jerk off the medallion, but still it clings to your neck, and Lance turns around to glare at you, “Take your curses off me!”
“It was a fucking gift!”
“My baby is no bastard! Andy is its father!”
“He is her father,” you step backwards as he walks closer. For the first time realizing his ominous presence. “Yes. You reek of Andy, and smell of your precious daughter. The medallion is a gift that can not be given back with malice.”
“You’re cruel,” you whisper, turning away from him.
“And you’re a fool. Making deals with a corrupted faerie. Can’t trust us.”
“I could. You are kind. And you can fight the darkness. Do not let it tarnish our friendship. This isn’t you,” Lance breathes deeply glaring at you. “Fight the corruption.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because, everyone deserves a friend. You helped me when I called. Now, help me end Ransom’s evil ways. He’s…”
“I already am,” his face turns up into a sinister smile. Walking over to the spinning wheel, he sits, and quicker than you, spins the straw into gold. “You’re not the only one who has made a deal. And I always collect my debts. Remember that, Aurelia. Don’t get too attached.”
You don’t utter a word about the deal. There was no telling what he would curse you with as a result of your trickery. He was falling deeper into the abyss of faerie deceit. The golden apple taking him further everyday.
His veins once a silvery smoke, now becoming more inky as the corruption was winning its battle with his body. He had never had an outburst on you before, and you feared for what he was truly capable of.
“You are my friend?” He innocently asks, the devilish smirk now erased off his handsome features.
“I am. Friends protect each other, Lance. We don’t let the other dwell in peril,” he clicks his tongue at you, continuing his spinning.
“You can tell you were born of magic Aurelia. You have the forked tongue of a faerie. Don’t use your twisting words to get me to do your bidding.”
“Born of magic?” You cock up an eyebrow looking at him. Moving one step closer.
“Sit down, and let me tell you of a princess that fell for a stable boy. And learn all about your birthright. It’s amazing what people will do when they’re distraught.”
“Can your curses be reversed?”
“Deals,” he answers sharply. “We don’t do anything that you humans don’t ask for. It’s not our fault you’re greedy for something else. Desperate for magic to fix everything.”
“Lance, you will keep my baby hidden from the king and queen won’t you?” Pulling up your skirts you sit down, your eyes gleaming at him.
“I will keep my baby hidden from the usurper. He would be most displeased that you were even here. Or that you carry a baby that is more powerful than him. Now sit. I have another story to tell you. About Princess Adria and her stable boy.”
Next
Masterlist
Taglist:  @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe​ @peaches1958 @whimsyplaty92​ @xcaptain-winterx @bambamwolf87 @lavender-annd-lilac​ @thedarkplume​ @duuhrayliegh​ @rebekahdawkins @johndeaconshands @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @feyfantome @athena-penrose
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500 FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION
✨REQUESTS OPEN✨
rules & requirements below:
i know, or at least i think, most people celebrate at 1000 followers but considering i've had this blog for nearly two years 500 followers is a big deal to me. SO to celebrate i am opening my requests. now, before you go shooting me a request please read & acknowledge the following.
RULES:
must be following me. that’s a no brainer.
first come first served basis.
i will make an announcement after i have received 10 requests that requests are closed. please DO NOT make any requests after i have closed them. they will be dismissed/deleted. so just save your request for the next celebration. AGAIN those who request off anon will be priority.
because i don't want those whose requests don't get picked or didn't make it into the 10 qualifying spots to miss out on their request i will be saving requests to roll-over into the next celebration post (which will be at 1000 followers) so don't fret! however, a REMINDER that if you make a request AFTER i closed the requests those ones will be deleted.
you may only request oneshots. i will not be accepting any series or mini series requests. however, your oneshot requests can include requesting a sequel to any standing series or oneshots i have already written. for example, 'may i request a 'where are they now' oneshot for reader & rafe in 'always you''. or 'may i request a sequel oneshot to your ransom drysdale 'leatherbound' oneshot'. but of course, feel free to request something totally new!
no naming the reader. these requests are 'reader x whoever character you request'.
also! this is a dark!fic noncon!fic account. keep in mind that when making your request that you know exactly what you're requesting & from who. no fluff, no cutesy romantic stuff (unless it goes dark), etc.
i will include a list of characters below that i will write for that you can choose from, so please pick from there. if there is someone else you have in mind that isn't on the list DM ME first to ask.
along with a list of characters, i will also list the kinks/themes i WILL NOT write about. so be extra sure to go over those because any requests that include anything from my 'will not write about' list, will be dismissed.
lastly, after i recieve 10 requests, my other series i'm currenty writing on here (Rise & I Burn) will be on a momentary pause until i complete all requests. so to my dedicated readers for those two series, i do apologize in advance, but please be patient. they will be returned to.
that's all, folks! make sure you make your request via dropping an ask (i will not accept requests via dm (dm is only if you're asking clarifying questions about characters or boundaries)). be sure to REREAD my rules, too. it doesn't hurt to double check.
happy requesting! muah😘
beau<3
CHARACTERS by fandom: those in CAPS are who i really want to write for
MARVEL: Steve Rogers | BUCKY BARNES | Loki | Thor | Erik Killmonger | Aged Up Peter Parker | Talos (a.k.a spacedaddy from Captain Marvel) | Billy Russo (The Punisher) | Deacon Frost (Blade) |
CHRIS EVANS CHARACTERS: Ransom Drysdale | Andy Barber | CURTIS EVERETT | Lloyd Hansen |
OUTER BANKS: Rafe Cameron | Daddy Cameron (a.k.a Ward Cameron) |
DC: Clark Kent | Joker (Heath Ledger's joker) | KGBEAST
PEAKY BLINDERS: Thomas fucking Shelby (or any of the Shelby's) | Michael Gray |
THE BOYS: Billy Butcher | HOMELANDER | Black Noir
CALL OF DUTY: Konig | SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY
DEAD BY DAYLIGHT: Frank Morrison ('The Legion' ) | The Trapper | GhostFace | Michael Myers
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES: Stefan Salvatore | Kai Parker | Klaus Mikaelson |
DIVERGENT: ERIC | Four |
STAR WARS: Darth Maul | Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker | Kylo Ren/Ben Solo |
VIKINGS: Rollo | RAGNAR | Hvitserk | Ubbe | Ivar | Bjorn |
HARRY POTTER: Aged Up Draco Malfoy | Aged Up Tom Riddle (don't you dare request that noseless snake version of him) | Young Sirius Black
AMERICAN ASSASSIN: Mitch Rapp | Ghost
THE WALKING DEAD: Negan | Nick Clark
MISC: Aged Up Billy Hargrove | Adrian Griffen (The Invisible Man) | Coriolanus Snow (young, not the old one, blegh) | CHASE ANDREWS | JACKSON RIPPNER | Aged Up JOSEPH DESCAMPS (Mixte) | Elwood Dalton (RoadHouse) | Aged Up Henry Bowers (IT) | Rio (Good Girls) | Roman Godfrey (Hemlock Grove) | Boys from 'The Covenant' (aged up, ofc) | Jax Teller (Sons of Anarchy) | Ajax (The Warriors, bless you if you know who this is. he is my ride or die.) | Walter Deville | Ash (No Exit) | Brahms (The Boy) | Masked Man (Hush) | The Gentleman (The Purge) | AURELIANO (Subburia) | Aged Up Nate Jacobs | The Predator | Reggie Kray (Legend) |
WILL NOT WRITE ABOUT: these either weird me out or bore me & for me to produce my best work for you i ask that you not request any of the below
a/b/o themes | lactation kinks | dd/lg kinks | real life celebrities | monster fucking (does not include aliens or vampies) | ghost/demon fucking | race play | dp kinks | anal play (generic anal is fine, but anything more is a no from me) | cum eating | basement wife themes | sexual slavery themes | convenience noncon (this is specific to me so you deffo won't know what that is so if you're curious, please ask) | breeding kinks | pregnancy non con | bimbo reader | underage reader/characters | sex pollen themes | blood-related incestual themes | cuckholding kinks |
SPOTS:
1. alt!reader x rafe cameron one shot
2. virgin!reader x rafe cameron one shot (best friends)
3. reader x rafe cameron one shot (best friends boyfriend/roommate)
4. 'the night shift' reader x stefan salvatore sequel one shot
5. romani!reader x soft!roman godfrey one shot
6. ‘always you’ reader x rafe cameron sequel one shot
7.
8.
9.
10.
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bayleymania · 1 year
Note
Am I the only one who found it funny that there was more blood in Brock and Codys match at Backlash than there was in a cage match with Jon Moxley T.T
I did think a lot about how there wasn’t that much blood, but my conclusion is that it happened naturally with the barbered wire instead of blading. And the huge amount of violence compensate it, lol.
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skxrbrand · 1 year
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[Azriel @ Kha’xanzyr] “While I am flattered at indirectly becoming your barber, you really ought to let me find something more practical for you — Your use of an enchanted weapon for grooming, but not fighting, may have drawn attention.”
He doesn’t look up; both hands are planted firmly on the blade of a rather grungy-looking battleaxe, and both the steel and the small shard of warpstone set into his left gauntlet are glowing a violent, awful green. A few sparks fly, and then there is a terrific flash concurrent with a muted pop. Azriel’s wings bristle momentarily and he inspects the blade in the absence of the glow. Whatever enchantment he had been channeling has warped the metal — not irreparably, but he frowns anyway and makes a mental note to save the warpstone conductor for more deliberately destructive work. He pushes the axe aside and rummages through a veritable pile of scavenged weaponry before selecting a less battered-looking sword and placing it upon his impromptu workbench.
“Of course, it could also have been completely benign interest. I will not pretend to know the opinions of your brothers — only that Skarbrand likely did not grant me accommodations to sit here and enchant toys like some….hobbyist.”
It's the wizard again. Despite himself, the hackles on the Bloodthirster spike up but other than that, he makes no move towards further aggression...for the moment.
" Attention?"
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There is a spark of nerves within the Bloodthirster, but he tamps it down like he normally does. Come to loom over Azriel, both to intimidate him and look over his handiwork, he leers down at the mage through bright blue eyes. Where had the khazvulkki gotten warpstone from? Khazaan's pet rat was, to his knowledge, secured.
Kha'xanzyr grunts at the project takes a small left turn. He rumbles again when Skarbrand is mentioned.
" I am not afraid of my brother." Kha'xanzyr stated. " I nearly killed the fool some moons ago. Look upon his back. See the lightening scars. My handiwork."
And speaking of handiwork.
" Raw warpstone is hard to work with. Even the ratkin know that." Not to mention dangerous for non-natives of the aethyr. " You are better off refining it, though magic can never truly be tamed by the hands of ephemerals."
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