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#fake fur hats
ravenalla · 4 months
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Villainous actors au where Black Hat routinely loses his voice from how many shouting lines he has and takes the whole crew out to lunch after filming because he feels bad about how aggressive he has to be in character (mostly towards Flug who’s just drenched in sweat by the end after doing so many prop falls and wearing a paper bag all day)
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something-a-kin-to · 11 months
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Garten of Banban Stimboard Series: Banban
Sources: x x x | x x x | x x x
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bdsmsub67 · 1 month
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Clement Chabernaud for H.E. by Mango Winter 2014
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Bon Image, Clément Chabernaud, d'men at d'management Group, IMG Models, Lookbooks, Menswear, Sight Management Studio, Success Models, Supa Model Management, UNIQUE Models Denmark
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hannabethdaily · 1 year
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7. Im curious
7. hair-ties or scrunchies?
Hair-ties! Somehow scrunchies are among the many things where the idea of actually wearing them puts me off. I have no idea why, because they do look cute but I personally just stick to hair-ties.
Send me weirder asks!
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nauroo · 1 year
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Today I seen a walking corpse wearing a trump hat and a truck that had a don't tread on me sticker and a gun sticker who was scared of the tiniest hole I've ever seen in my life
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reminiscingtonight · 5 months
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Cowgirl's Got My Heart
Lia Wälti x Reader
Word Count: 693
A/N: That picture basically wrote a story for itself
[WOSO Masterlist]
The sound of keys in the lock has you perking up. 
You’re turning down the volume on the TV when a familiar head of brown hair comes into view.
“Hi baby,” Lia smiles, dropping her bag into the corner of the room.
“How was training today?” you grin back, leaning up to accept the kiss she presses to your lips.
Lia hums, hand dropping to give the little ball of fur in your lap a soft head scratch before answering your question. Though what she says only makes you blink in response.
“I’ve got to get a cowboy hat.”
Your brows furrow, mouth opening in a stupefied confusion. “I-- You… What?”
“I’ve got to get a cowboy hat,” she repeats as if you’d understand it better the second time.
“No, Lia, babe, I heard you the first time. Why?”
Your girlfriend shrugs. “The girls are having a little get-together.”
The mention of Lia’s teammates has your lips curling up slightly. There’s no hiding how much you adore her friends. They’ve been nothing but welcoming since you and Lia got together, even going as far as treating you as one of their own. 
You can’t even count on one hand how many times the Arsenal vice-captain has been by for meals, whether that be dinner or otherwise, this past week. 
“I’m a growing girl!” Leah had complained when you asked if she planned to reimburse you for your cooking. 
Lia had to hide her laughter when Leah showed up the next day, bags of groceries in hand as she asked (directed) you to make dinner.
But it’s because of this, because of how well you know all of the Gunners, that you’re scratching your head in confusion. What in the world could these world-class football players be doing that requires cowboy hats?
You open your mouth to ask exactly that before you think better of it. “Okay, well I hope you guys have fun.”
Lia pouts at your response. She plops into the spot next to you on the couch. “That’s it? No questions? No attempts to talk me out of it?”
“I think you’d be a pretty cute cowgirl,” you shrug, grin on your face as you start thinking it through.
Lia rolls her eyes, knowing exactly where your head’s going. “Okay, my little perv, relax. It’s for the Luke Combs concert.”
Your mouth drops open in fake hurt. “Wow, thanks for the invite.”
The pinch that lands on your thigh has you squealing in laughter. The cat on your lap simply opens an eye at all the noise and movement, meowing loudly to inform you of her displeasure at being disturbed. 
“See, even she knows you’re being dramatic.” 
It’s your turn to roll your eyes, hand dropping to soothe the cat in your lap. Before you have a chance to shoot back a retort, Lia’s speaking again.
“Which, thanks for reminding me, we also have to get you a hat.”
“Wait-- what? Why me?”
“Where I go, you go, right?” Lia raises her eyebrow, almost daring you to contradict her words.
The word ‘no’ is at the tip of your tongue, but you hesitate. As much as you hate country music, you hate being in the dog house more. And if this concert also helps you get Lia to dress like a sexy cowgirl…
You sigh, careful not to jostle the cat in your lap as you pull out your phone. 
“How many hats are we getting?”
Lia grins, all but molding herself to your side as she starts directing your search. 
---
“No Lia, I will not wear a sparkly pink cowboy hat.”
---
“Mate, the train to barbieland left an hour ago!” Leah snickers, getting a high five from Jen when she spots the pink atrocity sitting upon your head.
It takes everything in your body to not strangle the English captain right then and there. But the beaming smile on Lia’s face, the lovestruck look in her eyes as she takes you in, arm wrapped around your waist has you willing to endure any and all teases. A certain cowgirl’s got your heart and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
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whiskersz · 26 days
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Heyy! I hope you're having a good day. My fav hazbin character is Husk. Could you please do a ficlet where he and the reader have feelings for each other but are both nervous to admit it. Husk is having a bad day and maybe really stressed and the reader tries to comfort him? Maybe says something like "you're always a great listener for everyone one else, but you need someone to listen to you too". Lots of comfort, fluff, confessions, and love please! ♡♡ my heart aches for this sweet grumpy kitty!
Hey to you! This turned out a bit long, and maybe I did rush the end because I'm just...still not used to writing short fics, ahah. But hey, it's finished and I hope you enjoy it at least a bit!
Text divider by : cafekitsune
Husk x Reader - We found love in Hell
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“I’m back!”
You announced, closing the entrance door of the Hotel behind you. You had gone out to run a few errands earlier in the day, and now that it was night the only thing on your mind was lying in bed and falling asleep.
Angel, already back from work and concentrated on his phone, waved at you tiredly; you decided to sit next to him on the couch after shooting a smile at Husk, who seemed grumpier than usual.
Albeit a bit lazily, you and Angel Dust started chatting for a bit, telling each other about how your day went and what you did. When the topic of the other residents of the Hotel came up, the spider demon lowered his voice to a whisper.
“I’ve got to say toots; Whiskers over there is in a bad mood today.” He revealed to you, making you perk up immediately.
“Oh, I did notice he didn’t seem up to a conversation, that’s why I didn’t bother him...” your gaze fell on his figure, all you could see was his back; he seemed to be busying himself with something. “You know if anything happened?”
Angel shrugged, then smirked at you slyly.
“Not sure, but I know of a few things you could try to cheer him up.”
You rolled your eyes at him playfully before shaking your head.
“No thanks, I’ll pass. I’ll talk to him though, thank you for telling me.”
Angel knew very well of you and Husk’s crushes on each other, so he didn’t mind playing matchmaker sometimes. He guessed the best thing to do would’ve been to leave the two of you alone, so he stretched a bit before getting up and announcing that he was off to bed.
You told him goodnight, while Husk simply gave him a nod.
In all honesty, you felt a little bad going up to him for conversation now that you knew he wasn’t in the best mood, but you still did so in hopes of comforting him at least a little. When you sat at the counter, he finally turned around.
“Good evening Husk, how are you?” you faked ignorance and asked, resting your face on your hand. He fluttered his wings and nodded at you as a greeting, putting aside the cloth he had been using to clean the sink.
“Can’t complain. How about you? Want me to pour you somethin’?” he asked despite looking particularly beat, as Angel had warned you.
You shook your head.
“No, just wanted to, y’know... talk to you for a bit before going to bed. Are you sure you’re okay?” your warm smile admittedly made his cheek flush. He was glad that his fur could cover that up at least partially.
Concentrating on your question though, he gave you a deep sigh.
“Yeah, yeah. Just a couple things on my mind today, but who doesn’t go through that.” He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair; it was your turn to blush.
However you weren’t a fan of how vague he was being. You sighed, which made him turn towards you once again.
“It is common I guess. But even this morning you seemed troubled, so you know...you always listen to others, but it’s fine if sometimes you need to be listened to, too.”
Husk wasn’t one to have big reactions but, having been close for some time, you did notice his eyebrows raising a little at your statement. Still, you hoped he’d say something. When he didn’t, you continued to fill the silence.
“...Not to push you, of course. Maybe you want distractions, I can talk about my day or something...just, let me know how I can help now that I’m here, yeah?”
He took a deep breath, then leaned on the bar’s counter so he could be closer to you, copying your position with his head resting on his hand.
“Ya worry too much, really, I’m fine. Just had way too many interactions with...” he let out a sigh; Alastor, you guessed. It wasn’t surprising that he would be distraught after interacting with the demon he had lost his soul to.
He was pretty vague in his explanations of what happened too, but if he didn’t want to go too in depth about how he felt you were going to respect that. Eventually, the two of you noticed that it was getting late, so you decided to turn off the big lights in favour of smaller, dimmer ones that set a cosy atmosphere.
You sat comfortably on the couch, legs crossed as you listened to Husk speak about a lighter topic now; how everyone had been asking to mix way too complicated cocktails lately while he was already in a bad mood. You knew this wasn’t aimed at you as you either always asked for the same one or didn’t even order one at all, too busy dealing with errands for Charlie or yourself.
“...Thanks for listenin’, by the way.” He said suddenly, and you smiled at him.
“It’s not a problem, that’s what...friends are for.” You said hesitantly.
“Yeah, I s’ppose.”
Friends, you both thought, unbeknownst to each other. You and Husk had been friends for a while, always relying on each other when things got bad. Always managed to break through each other’s walls and get the other to talk about their deepest troubles.
It was clear to everyone at the Hotel that you two were very close, and saw the other in a very positive light, one that outshined the definition of ‘friend’; there was something more that you both wanted, but were too scared, perhaps because of past experiences, to go through with.
“Been a while since I sat with someone to talk about something until late at night.” Husk confessed, breaking your train of thoughts.
“It’s just because it’s me, I bet.” You said jokingly, yet boldly. He chuckled.
“Usually it’s the other way around. They talk, I listen. Feels nice to be listened to.”
Even though you were the listener in this case, he made sure to make you feel appreciated by basically confessing that there was nobody else he’d open up to. You admittedly felt too tired to conjure any insightful thought or answer, so you simply leaned against him; the sudden contact made his ears perk up, but he slowly got comfortable with it and cuddled closer to you himself.
“I’ll always listen to you, Husk.”
“I thought I lost the ability to love long ago;” you thought he was about to start another rant, so you slightly looked up at him to let him know he had your full attention; “Turns out my old heart was jus’ waiting for you to come along.” He finished, looking away.
You felt his wing tentatively reach to hug your side, so you shifted a bit to allow it to. It was warm, comfortable. Exactly how you felt around Husk.
Registering his words, the blush on your cheeks spread. This was his own way of confessing to you.
“I love you, too.” He let his head rest on the top of yours as you muttered those words nervously, as if it was a gesture meant to comfort you.
The next morning, Charlie had to contain a squeal as her and the rest of the residents of the Hotel found you cuddled up next to each other on the cough, sleeping soundly, wrapped in Husk’s wings as if they were a blanket.
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meatonfork · 1 year
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Grim x platonic 141 HC’s
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- grim loves to play pranks on the guys. one time they stole ghost’s like 7 balaclavas and dyed the white paint pink. the guys got a kick out of that, and ghost wouldn’t let grim near his shit for like a month.
- when soap eats, you can always expect grim to be around him like a vulture. they will 100% steal his food every time.
- they often bug price in his office when they are bored. grim won’t leave until price starts blowing his cigar smoke in their face, making them cough as if they were dying.
- grim is very dramatic. loves to flop on the floor at any minor inconvenience. 
- they pass out every once in a while. low blood pressure and poor circulation will cause them to just thump against the ground.
- the first time it happened was during a meeting, price was in the middle of speaking when ghost felt dead weight hit his arm. he quickly moved forward to catch you before you hit the ground. “WHAT THE FUCK???”
- you woke up a few seconds later like “oops! yeah, that happens. haha!”
- not funny. soap threatened you to tell them when you feel that happen again. he was scawed :((
- most days grim will flop on gaz’s bed and just clonk out there. the first time this happened he just stared at them before going back to whatever he was doing.
- grim is terrified of storms and needles. they have to be holding someone when getting stitches, or they will pass out.
- halloween is their favorite holiday, because in their eyes it’s more independent than christmas or valentine’s day.
- one time for halloween, they dressed up as price. the hat, the gear, even the cigar. they used fake fur to build a makeshift beard. they followed him around repeating what he said all day.
- he would never admit it, but it was hilarious to him
- sometimes ghost will catch them lurking in his shadow and he’ll ask why
- they pout and say they don’t want to be alone anymore
- ghost caves and continues with his day
- grim has a ton of stuffed animals they keep around, even gifting some r o the guys
- their favorite person to pester is gaz, strictly because he doesn’t get annoyed and tell them to fuck off
- one time soap hurt their feelings and wouldn’t talk to anyone, so ghost threatened him into apologizing to them so they would talk again
- price is their dad
- not biologically, but they genuinely see him as their dad after losing their whole family.
- sometimes, when they close off from everyone, they’ll find grim in one of their beds
- grim definitely has adhd
- no doubt
- they fidget
- a lot
- and when they do, someone is always there to stop it.
- one time during a meeting, you were sat next to ghost. your leg started bounding a million miles a minute. your shoe tapping against the chair leg, and ghost put his hand on your knee under the table to calm you down. 
- grim plays with gaz’s fingers a lot
- when grim sits next to soap, he periodically taps his knee against their’s to remind them that he’s there.
- price will always ruffle their hair, and they HATE it. 
- they secretly love it.
- movies nights are a must, per grim
- the team can’t escape it
- it always ends with grim drooling on ghost’s shoulder
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a/n: thanks for reading!! i hope you enjoy :) i’m working on more requests, so expect some maybe later today and def tomorrow :)
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helplesslypurple77 · 4 months
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~i wish i was special, your so fucking special~
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Summary: "But a woman's intuition is a clever thing, a strong thing not to be overlooked, a thing you must trust, for, as they say, where there is smoke, there is certain to be fire. And for you, that fire came in the form of a betrayal, a betrayal that could break you, if you moved it too. But feminine rage is also a divine thing, a destructive fire, incinerating everything in its path. "
Warnings: Smut, Dazai cheats on you, mildly unhealthy relationships to really unhealthy relationships, reader isn't in a good headspace~
Notes: i have been in such a depressive mood, so i decided to channel that into a story. I hope my feelings came through to you.
Also this isn't really a story about healthy relationships. Both Dazai and Fyodor are kind of assholes, although Fyodor is slightly less of one. The reader is not in a very good mental state. But that's what makes it spicy…
also this story is not for the Dazai lovers. although i am one.
...
It was snowing the day it happened. Big fat snowflakes falling gently from the sky, pressing kisses to your nose. They piled beneath your feet, along the sides of the roads in big fluffy piles, much akin to the clouds that would fill the sky during the summer months. They settled on the trees, painting their bare spindly branches a dirty gray white. It was dark, late at night as you hurried home, the street lights painting the white snow with yellow pure light. 
It was cold, but not unpleasantly cold, your breath perfuming in the air around your face as you huffed out breaths, the heels of your boots sinking into the snow and clicking against the pavement. Your hair, let down around your shoulders, fell gently around you, floating like a cloud in the air. Your cheeks flushed from the cold, hands shoved deep in the pockets of your fur coat. The hat upon your head kept the warmth in, hugging your head gently. 
You were feeling anxious. You didn't know why, it was a feeling that had persisted, that had been niggling at the corner of your brain, spilling unease into each and every corner of your body. The feeling had eaten at you, and you had buried yourself in your word to dull it, to dull that horrible dawning sensation of understanding. You were a weak woman, burying a poorly disguised inferiority complex under your fake bravado. It was most obvious in your incessant application of makeup, your occasional breakdown in the shower where you cried and cried, muffling your tears in the shower, letting the warm water wash them away.
For you to cry in front of Dazai was a pathetic thing, to let a man so confident and strong see your tears almost break you each time. You were a lucky woman to have such a man as your boyfriend, a handsome confident man who could have any woman he wanted. You knew this, and so you muffled your tears and that yawning feeling of dread opening a cavity in your stomach and told yourself that everything was alright.
But a woman's intuition is a clever thing, a strong thing not to be overlooked, a thing you must trust, for, as they say, where there is smoke, there is certain to be fire. And for you, that fire came in the form of a betrayal, a betrayal that could break you, if you moved it too. But feminine rage is also a divine thing, a destructive fire, incinerating everything in its path. 
The snow caught on the bushes in the front lawn of your apartment as you made your way upstairs. The snow landed gently on the red berries, melting fast but yet just as fast replaced by another snowflake until the bushes and their red berries were dusted lightly with a decorative powder. The lights that hung from the trees in the front gave the entire scene a picturesque holiday feel, and yet that yawning pit of dread still ate at you from the inside out. 
Heels clicking on the metal of the stairs, loud but not loud enough. Muffled by the snow. Loud only to you. Most of the rooms in the apartment you share with your boyfriend are empty, and all the lights beside your own are extinguished, lending an air of abandoned solitude to the surrounding. It's a bleak picture to your mind, and a foreboding chorus to the bouts of angst to come. 
Your apartment is at the end of the row, all the way on the top floor. It takes barely a minute to walk the length and yet it feels like an hour, those feelings of dread you still cannot place eating you from the inside out, causing your legs to tremble in an unhealthy anticipation. You still don't know the cause, simply your misplaced intuition, and so you soldier on, passing the abandoned apartments. 
Miss Smith, an alcoholic who had abandoned the apartment in a drunken haze, Ms Katya Ivanova, a pretty woman with blond hair that had been arrested for reasons unknown and dragged away kicking and screaming. Dazai had informed you what a shame it had been. You supposed she had been nice, but you had never really interacted that much. And finally, the old apartment next to yours. Owned by Ms Petrova, a kindly old lady that had died just last month. You had cried, the pathetic woman you had become, mourned her death like she was your own mother. 
And at last, you arrive at your door, your gloved hand resting on the handle, not daring to open. Your body is frozen, unable to simply push open the unlocked door, afraid of the unknown, of what you might find there. You don't know why you're afraid, it's simply that yawning pit of sorrow, the gate to hell housed in the pit of your stomach. The feeling that something is wrong, but you simply can't place it, can't banish it, and so you must exist in this anxious state until something, or someone, breaks it. 
You stand still before your door, the door you and your boyfriend had lived behind for three years now, a door with the familiar numbers 4B, partially rusted and close to falling off. Behind this door you had happy memories, sad memories, memories of all kinds. You simply can't bear it, you can't bear whatever you know, somewhere deep in your consciousness that you will find something that will change your life. You don't want things to change, you want to stay with your boyfriend who you love deeply, to keep your ok job at the ok law firm you worked at and to spend the holiday season happy, content, if not wealthy. It's all you’ve ever asked, to be content and loved, and yet it seems too much for whoever was spinning this dreadful wheel of fate. You had always lived your life kindly, a person who would bend over backwards for the needs of others, a person who loved first, hated never. This was your philosophy, a belief you stood by. 
You took a deep breath, and opened the door. The hallway was dark, despite the lights you knew lighted the windows, despite the low murmur of voices coming from another room. You don't bother to take off your coat, your eyes catching on the unfamiliar coat and high heels placed in your spot. You already know what you will find as you make your way down the darkened hallway, towards the small bedroom you share with your boyfriend, but somehow you still hold out hope. You hope desperately that he really loved you, that the woman's clothes are presents for you, or his mothers clothes. You pray even, a desperate prayer to any god who may be listening, that he loves you, that you won't find him cheating. But of course, because your intuition has never steered you wrong, because that yawning pit of despair was correct, that's exactly what you find. 
The door to your bedroom creaks as you open it, the light from the main room casting a sliver of golden light upon the bodies on the bed, twisted together under the covers, embracing in a love you thought you shared. The pit of despair, the anxiety, and get of hell that perpetually follows you opens up, swallowing your heart with finality. You turn, walking back down the hall, holding back the angry tears welling up in your throat. You're not surprised, how could you be, it was obvious really. But you had ignored the signs, refused them, rebuked them, wanting compassion and kindness that you knew he could never give you. He had warned you. 
“I'm broken.” Dazai had said, hands caressing your own. 
“I stray to temptations my belladonna, i cannot commit to you and you alone.” 
You had foolishly thought that you could fix him, that you were good enough to make an ex-mafia member stray onto the path to the good, the path of the faithful. You curse yourself as Dazai stumbles out of the bedroom, chasing you, the woman behind him. You don't stop, even as he calls your name, a desperate plea. 
“Wait, Name.” He says, his hands catching the end of your coat, yanking you to a halt. Biting your lip, your turn, holding back the tears. Dazai runs a hand through his messy brown hair, Katya Ivanova standing behind him, clutching her clothes to her almost naked frame. She looks as pretty as ever, her blond locks only lightly mussed, perfect even in sex. The woman he always told you not to worry about. You don't feel jealousy as you look at her, only a strange kind of acceptance. 
“What, Dazai.” You say, your voice calm, not a tremble in sight. You comment yourself on your acting, even as the despair tears you apart from the inside. 
“Bela…” He starts, once again mussing his hair. He's clothed only in pants and a few remaining bandages on his torso and arms. Lipstick marks and hickeys mar his pale skin, clear evidence of his activities. You bite back tears. You refuse to cry in front of these two. 
“Belladonna…” Dazai says, seemingly at a loss for words. It seems he can't even beg for your forgiveness, and you only feel a cold kind of acceptance as you gently shake his hand off your coat, and walk towards the door. 
“I hope you two live happily.” You say, turning one more time to look at them. What a picture they make, so pretty on the surface, but ugly underneath, where it really matters. And with one last small smile, you close the door behind you. 
It's still snowing, but the scenery no longer feels peaceful and festive. No, now it feels cold and lonely and bleak and as you hurry away, the tears start. Fat, hot tears running down your flushed cheeks and hitting the snow below you as you walk slowly away from the apartment, to where you do not know. The streets are abandoned, dead in the still of the night and you can cry, tears a welcome relief from the tense anxiety that had hounded you not hours earlier. 
You love him, loved that man with all of your pathetic little heart. Imagined a future with him, imagined kids, devoted your entire being to him. You tried your best, applying makeup and sucking dick and laughing at his jokes but you were not enough it seemed. Never as good as Katya Ivanova, effortless in her seductions, with her pretty blond hair and blue eyes, with her perfect body and bimbo brain. You would never be her. 
The tears are freeing, in a way. They wash away your sadness and betrayal and also your makeup and then the anger comes. White hot and ger that pours in with each tear that trails down your face. Pure, unadulterated rage. 
If he can do that, if he can seduce women as he pleases, you shall feel no shame in seducing men. And you know just the one to target. The rage burning your body, your steps imbued with it as you march on, given a purpose, at least temporarily. You will make him hurt. You will make Dazai, a man with nerves and emotions of steel, feel the same burning anger and anxiety and sadness and betrayal that you feel.
⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆
You know these neighborhoods well, the places you had watched Dazai and Fyodor argue over things from philosophy to what was the best fruit. They like to argue, oh yes they did, and their rivalry was something you hope to exploit. But your tears wouldn't stop. It was pathetic and sad but you sholdeird on, walking up to the small picturesque cottage and knocking politely on the door. 
It was a nice cottage, with a few trees scattered around the lawn and a little bird fountain covered in a light dusting of snow and ice. The whole place feels welcoming, more wealthy than you and Dazai could ever afford. You try your best to whipe your tears, but alas there is nothing you can do. Fyodor was always kind to you, treating you with a certain amount of delicacy, like you were a glass fairy statue, pretty but easily breakable. You find you like this, very much. 
You had always been a bit of a prize in their arguments. At least on Daazai’s side. But not enough to make him stay, not enough to make him loyal. You let the tears flow freely, tired of trying to hold back. 
The door opens with a small crack, the light spilling out onto the lawn, onto your tearstained face. That familiar face looks out, eyes alighting in surprise upon your tear stained face, your obvious distraught expression. 
“Name, what a surprise it is to see you.” Fyodor says, opening the door wider and letting the light spill across your sinner's body. You look up through your lashes, mouth trembling as you lean forward, gripping the fabric of his shirt. 
“Make it go away.” You whimper into the fabric, clutching it like a lifeline, as if it's the only thing between you and something terrible, something you never want to see. 
Fyodor always seems to understand everything. Perhaps he reads you like an open book, dark eyes scanning the pathetic words that make up your being, reading your emotions, drawing them in a beautiful canvas, the world of his brain. He is a beautiful creature, dangerous and smart and a bit all knowing. 
You tears are falling faster now, soaking the cotton fabric of his white shirt, cries muffled against him. 
Fyodor’s thin hands grip your waist, maneuvering you inside, closing the door on the coldness behind you. The hallway is an illusion, something you can't even comprehend. All you can see is him, his hair brushing his chin lightly, his dark eyes locked on yours, his thin clothes. You whisper the words again, almost a silent prayer.
“Oh god Fyodor.” You whimper, imploring him with your eyes. “Make me dumb. Fuck me until i dont need to think anymore.” 
Fyodor’s mouth curves into a small smirk, eyes locking on your own. His hands are cold, soothing as they reach up, cupping your face and smoothing your tears away. 
“What about your boyfriend darling?” He asks, a cruel question really. You are sure he already knows the answer. Fyodor can be a cold man sometimes. 
“Cheated.” Is all you whisper, still pressed against his heat. His body is lean, heat radiating from his frame despite his weak physical condition. You know he can make you forget. 
 Complicated emotions make their way across Fyodor’s face as he holds you. His big hands caressing your waist, sending little shockwaves of heat to your poor pussy, dripping against your panties. Your fantasies and desire have already driven you wild, a temptress of aphrodite, a sinner desiring the man who holds you, teasing you until you might simply explode.
“Fyodor.” You whisper, looking up at him through your lashes, begging for his love, hands working at the top few buttons of his shirt. 
His response is to lean down, mouth pressing a achingly sweet kiss upon your lips. You melt into the sweetness, lured by the kindness, but it seems he has not forgotten your desire to forget. Because all at once the kiss is carnal, your back hitting the wall of his apartment in a brutal display of desire. Hands gripping fabric, the sounds of ripping fabric as his hands toss your coat aside, the buttons on your button down scattering in his eagerness. 
Fyodor’s kisses are like a sweet poison. A desire that overcomes your senses, begging you to steal more. And there are more for the taking, many more as he pants against your neck, laying open mouth kisses against it, as you moan. Your back is still supported by the wall, trapped between a rock and hard place, pressed between a hard object and a relentless desire. You curve into Fyodor, perhaps begging for him to ruin you, to send you to sin. Fyodor drops to his knees, his mouth pressed against your soaking core. And as your head arches back, you know this is going to be a long, wonderful night. 
The way his hands touch your body, the way his mouth worships your cunt, the way your hands tangle in his dark lock as you grind your core against his face. It's a pretty picture, a display of beastlike desire. The hallway smells of sex and the air is warm, stifling really. Your hair is wild, the locks falling around your bare shoulders, your makeup already smudged beyond belief. But you find you dont care, as his clever tongue urges an orgasm out of you, as he leaves you hsaking and begging as he flips you around, entering you with one long thrust and shoving you against the wall. 
⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆
“My Darling.” Fyodor pants against you, as your hands grip at the smooth surface of his table, moans leaking out of your mouth, cum dripping out of your poor abused hole. 
“Why are you crying?” 
It takes a moment to truly come to, to take in his sentence and formulate a response. His whole house smells of sex, and the two of you had long abandoned the hallway, and moved to other parts of the house. It's an interesting kind of house tour. You're tossed over the kitchen table, body littered with possessive little hickeys. You love them, the fact that he wants to mark you, to keep you, to make you his forever. You love that his cum drips from your holes, that in a way he could possess you, in a way you could be his, have a purpose, have a comfort, have a man who loves you. 
“Oh god.” You start. Your words are slightly slurred, and you don't understand how he has so much stamina, considering how physically weak he is. 
“Oh Fyodor, I want to be loved.”
The words are vulnerable, and Fyodor’s relentless thrust stutter slightly. Your back arches against the table, hands finally gripping purchase, the end of the table. You feel so loved, so desired. You love it, you love him, Dazai is simply no more. You know he’ll come back, maybe later when your feeling less fucked out, but right now your very satisfied with this feeling, the happiness, the freedom. 
A rough thumb on your clit urges you to orgasm, a powerful one. Your back arches off the table, your hands gripping his hair as he leans down, your lips parting in a scream.
“Oh Fyodor, I want to be yours.” You say, the orgasm forcing your true feeling out of the box you had buried deep. Your shaking, your body trembling with the force of the orgasm, his dick still spearing you deep. Your hands reach up aimlessly, searching for skin, for hair, for something. And find it you do, his thin shoulders, already engraved with the evidence of your desire, your fingernails leave more red trails in his pale skin, and he shivers at the pain. 
“I’ve always loved you darling.” Fyodor says, his voice a pant. His vulnerable words break through the haze of orgasm, thrilling your heart even as your core clenches around his dick. He finishes his sentence, the words driving you made with desire, with love, with happiness. 
“You're mine now.” Fyodor says, hands on your waist, lips on your own, pressing his love and desire on to your skin, painting a beautiful portrait, one that is for you, not for the others. 
You're his. You love the words, those possessive desperate words whispered in a haze of arousal and sex. The words that you longed to hear. Because you are a woman who loves it, the possession, the feeling of love that stems from it in return. You know you will love this man, that this man will erase any traces of Dazai that remained, rework you into a beautiful statue, a glass fairy statue perhaps. 
You keen into his words, hands gripping that pretty hair and yanking, pulling. He likes it, these little stabs of pain you learned. You are a broken woman, and you suppose this broken man can fix you. FYodor is undoubtedly a monster, a creature of the darkness whose hands are stained with blood. But you know this creature can fix you, pick up the broken pieces of your heart, the heart that had shattered upon the betrayal, and glue them back together, make you whole ounce more. 
Your hands are scrabbling now, moving from his hair to his shoulders to his neck. Fyodor lets you, lets you grip his neck, holding the line of his life in your delicate hands. You doubt you could kill him, not that you wanted to, not with the state he’s reduced you too. You're a woman whose will hangs on his hands, whose life hangs at his fingertips, whose mentality is ruined by his dick. You're a woman remade wholy from desire. You find you like it greatly. 
“You’ve ruined me.” Are the words that leave your mouth, slurred but still coherent. 
Fyodor, eyes alight above you, only smiles. It's a predatory kind of smile, a smirk that shows his sharp canines, a proud smirk. You find you love it, as your pussy clenches down around his dick. 
“Oh darling,” Fyodor says, panting the words in a rough grunt. His accent has become thick with lust, clogging his words, clogging his throat. “You say that in a negative light. I think I've simply sucked the sadness out of you. Converted it to white hot pleasure.”
Fyodors hand is working your clit again, hard circles that hurt as much as they feel good. The pleasure and pain is a delicious mix, a dangerous cocktail ruining your senses, driving you crazy for his touch. You think you might indeed become addicted. Your brian is fried, and it takes a lot of work to pull together coherent sentences, and so you simply give up, instead conveying your feelings in a mess of moans and whimpers, in his name leaving your lips like a prayer. 
⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆
“My darling, I think you're the one who has ruined me.” Fyodor's words are accompanied by a slap, your ass stinging deliciously. You can barely speak, all you can do is keep yourself up, your hands braced against the slippery tiles of the shower. Your mouth parts in whimpers and pants, your pussy still dripping with cum even as the water tries to wash it down the drain. You try your best to prompt his words. 
“What do you…” You say, the words slurred and interrupted with moans of pleasure. You don't understand how Fyodor has so much stamina, how he can ruin you over and over and then put you back together with words of kindness and devotion and the possessive hickeys littering your body. You whimper as another orgasm rocks your body. Countless, you’ve lost count. 
Fyodor leans down, his wet hair tickling your neck as the length of his chest presses against your back, skin to skin, his beating heart obvious. 
“I'm addicted to you.” Are the words he pants in your ear, letting his masks and walls come down fully, his expression a bit crazed, a bit scary. You clench down hard, the beginning of another orgasm shuddering down upon you. His dick, his words, his hands, his thumb on your clit bring you to countless orgasm, your brain fried, coherent words simply impossible. You try your best anyway, as the micro orgasm shakes your body. 
“Oh good Fyodor.” You whimper, as your hands scrabble on the wall, as his hands grip your boobs, twisting your nipples. “I’m a sinful woman.” 
“Aren't we all, just sinners of god.” The words are a pant, too confusing for your incoherent brain to decipher, but the sound of his voice is pretty. You know his words are a comfort, even if the true gravity won't hit until later. You find yourself thinking that maybe, this was destiny. Fate had lead you to this man, a monster who would caress your body, putting you back together, loving you, craving you. 
You take a moment to send out a small thanks, and as another orgasm rocks your body, you simply stop thinking, drowning your feelings in sweet pleasure and pain. 
...
Endnotes: i’ve never really written true angst, but now i guess i have. Although I can't help but give it a hopeful ending.
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fushic0re · 29 days
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𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆
𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐒
𝗦𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗘𝗧𝗢 𝘅 𝗠𝗔𝗠𝗔𝗚𝗘𝗧𝗢!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥
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𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟖 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
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𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — it’s nanako and mimiko’s first christmas, and suguru wants to make it special by dressing up as santa claus. chaos ensues when they catch their mom kissing santa. 
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI. smut; penetrative sex, quickie, dirty talk. 
꒰ ͜͡➸ 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆! 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒❜ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 & 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑! ♡
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YOU DO YOUR BEST TO silence your giggles as you adjust the red velvet hat with white fur trim on Suguru’s head. 
With how exhilarated Nanako and Mimiko were for Santa’s arrival, it was not out of the realm of possibilities that they would come toddling out of their room and scope out the scene at any given moment—you both had to work quickly. It was the twins’ first ever Christmas at the tender age of five years old. That fact deeply saddened you and Suguru, unable to forgive the monsters in that village who harmed them so heartlessly. 
But it was not too late. They were still young with full fledged childhoods in front of them; childhoods that you and Suguru would do your damnest to fill with joy, laughter, love, and…fake Santa until they were too old for him. 
“Oh come on, Mrs. Claus. Just one little kiss.” Suguru purrs, his large hands slowly pulling your panties to the side as he kisses your neck. 
“I cannot take you seriously with this whole get up on. You look ridiculo–”
Your words were cut off by the tip of his member breaching your entrance, slowly sliding in as his girth stretched your walls deliciously. A sharp gasp escapes from your lips before you hurriedly cover your mouth with your hands. Your fiance chuckles deeply in your ear, punctuating his sentence with a low grunt as he sheaths himself in you to the hilt. 
“Please don’t argue with me like you aren’t always wet for me.” Suguru teases, stilling for a moment before slowly pumping his hips. 
You do not even have the effort to retort, only turning your head over your shoulder to smash your lips against his in an effort to keep yourself quiet. The kiss is heated and sloppy at best, a stark contrast to Suguru’s usual languid and sensuous kisses. Neither of you cared. If there was one thing you learned about becoming unexpected parents to twin girls, it was that if the opportunity presented itself…you needed to take it. Your lips are glued together as Suguru’s hips thrust with precision and control, maintaining slow and deep strokes that leave you gripping the edge of the couch so tight your knuckles turn white. The two of you are in your own little world before a loud gasp causes both of your heads to snap away from each other. 
“Mama! What are you doing?!” Nanako shrieks, stomping her tiny feet on the floor. 
For once in your life, you are speechless. Your mouth hangs agape as you hastily pull your pajama bottoms back up. Nothing but stutters leave your mouth, but luckily, Suguru is already in character like he was born to be Santa Claus. At lightning speed, he is situated himself in the full white beard…and pulled his pants up.
“Ho! Ho! Ho! You little ones weren’t supposed to see Santa, you should be in bed!” Suguru joyfully speaks in a typical Santa-like fashion. “You must be Nanako and Mimiko!”
If you were not so stunned, you would have a hard time trying not to laugh. 
Mimiko smiles shyly, taking her sister’s hand and hiding behind her slightly. 
“Yea…” She says cutely, watching the man she thought was Santa with wide awestruck eyes. 
Nanako is not as impressed. Her doe eyes narrow into slits.
“Why were you kissing our mama, Santa Claus? She’s married, ya know? Our daddy will beat you up.” 
Suguru snorts quietly from behind you, clearly amused by the older twin’s antics. Nanako was always the more outspoken between the two of them. At least he knew his little girl was a ride or die. 
“Santa was just making sure that your mother was feeling the Christmas spirit!” 
You sigh deeply, hitting your head against the couch repeatedly. Could he have come up with a better answer? With another exasperated sigh, you sit up and stand up from the couch, kneeling in front of your sleepy girls. 
“Aren’t you girls excited? Santa came to our house after all.” You say softly, cupping their cheeks. 
Mimiko immediately nuzzles her face against your palm. Nananko places her hand on your wrist, glaring at the imposter Santa over your shoulder. 
“...our presents better be good.”
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© all rights reserved to fushic0re — do not translate, repost, or plagiarize
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kevin-ibw · 15 days
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Valentino redesign in the works and I need y’all to pic which should be it, I’ll be honest I didn’t want to keep Val’s tacky long coat at all when I was designing him but I really liked the idea that it’s actually his wings that are wrapped around him so I’ll keep it for now. The hearts on Val are hollowed out to symbolize how fake his love is when he charms people into his claws, and I changed the fur pattern from red hearts to black lines to better match his wings. (And because it bothered me a little)
Made his hat shorter so a lot more attention can be focused on his antennae. Most of these concepts of him didn’t really change all that much and it makes me a little disappointed? Y’all are free to give suggestions on what to do.
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kkurades · 1 year
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KILL BILL ━━━━━ masterlist
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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
PARK SEONGHWA regretted nothing more than breaking up with you due to his need to focus on his studies but trying to win you back would be harder than he had originally thought and finding out that you had happily moved on with another man while being a successful idol didn’t make it any easier for him
pairing: biology major!seonghwa x idol!fem!reader x slight!idol!lee know
genre: university au, idol au, social media au, lovers to exes to lovers, unrequited love, slight love triangle, fake dating, angst, fluff, crack, written
featuring: jennie of BLACKPINK ( faceclaim ), ateez, (g)i-dle, jimin of BTS, lee know of STRAY KIDS, nayeon of TWICE, jihyo of TWICE, kim woobin ACTOR ( faceclaim )
warning: cursing, dark humour
status: ongoing
( started on 28/07/2023, finished on . . . )
tag list: @sserafimez, @neohyxn, @smh-anon, @redm4ri, @stopeatread, @yourfavoritefreakyhan, @saiewithakatana, @kyuupidwrites, @i-dont-know-me-either, @aestheticsluut, @certainyouthpeanut, @deadgirlwalking3, @stopeatread, @cookiechristie, @atinyreads, @legohwas, @sollum, @a1sh1teruu, @nikisbf, @s00buwu, @kissezfornamjoon, @hexoolio, @bunnystrm, @dutchessskarma, @satsuri3su, @i-hwa, @delulu4soobs, @moon-gyus, @soulphoenix1618, @lunavixia ( open )
MAIN MASTERLIST ˚୨୧⋆ ATEEZ MASTERLIST
## PROFILES !!
001. full house copycats
002. yn’s ex-family
003. cat mom + gilmore girls
## CHAPTER INDEX !!
one | an upgrade
two | shakespearean talk
three | the hypocrisy
four | my boob and booty’s hot
five | shuhua’s grandchildren
six | matching fur hats
seven | don’t throw up
eight | fanmade yn ships
kill bill © kkurades, 2023.
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coqxettee · 4 months
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“ Old Money”
Winter Guide:
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For the angels who want a classic, romantic, classy winter this festive season ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ ✧˖°. ₊˚
Wear silk pyjamas in the mornings & evenings, to feel like luxury when your relaxing
Light candles in the morning and evening to embrace the cozy vibes of winter and make your rooms smell lovely
Wear faux fur: Faux fur coats, gloves, skirts, two-pieces, large silk bows in your hair and large fluffy hats
Wear elegant lace gloves when inside to feel like true royalty
Drink Mulled wine and eat delicate Christmas delicacies in the evenings. Miniature sandwiches, cheese & grapes, and luxury chocolates
Go on a luxury, girly shopping spree (Make a day of it) wake up early, make a cup of tea and get ready. Wear tweed and faux fur, bundle up in a scarf and gloves and go shopping for luxury girly things. Grab a coffee or hot chocolate and go to the perfume and makeup counters, they are always so magical this festive season
Read books and old fairytales by the fire and eat cookies, bundled up in fluffy socks and a blanket
Go on winter drives through the countryside, look at the frosty landscape and listen to classic Christmas songs
Bundle up on a Wintery day and go on a countryside walk. Try and spot deer or any animals that aren’t hibernating for the winter and take photos of them!
Watch “Old Money” Christmas movies and specials like “Little Women” and “Downton Abbey”
Put velvet bows and spray fake snow to glisten on your Christmas tree
Go for a Winter lunch in an cozy, “old town” countryside restaurant or pub, try some of their classic food and drink warming beverages
Listen to Lana Del Rey’s “Old Money”
Browse in expensive stores like Harrod’s, Libertyy of London and Fortnum n Mason’s
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This is just for romanticisation purposes, please take it with a pinch of imagination and fantasies, but I hope it made you feel festive and magical
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ ✧˖°.
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somethin-human · 7 months
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*cough* aNYwAy!
Sam headcanons 🤠
As mentioned before, he was gifted a frog Build A Bear by one of the Shaw Pack mates. It’s name is Sammy and he has a little cowboy hat.
He has one (1) cowboy hat but he never wears it. He only has it because Vincent gifted it to him for some reason when they were first getting to know each other.
Before Darlin’ came into the picture, he had a pet dog.
He hates doing his weekly drink of blood because he thinks it’s gross so he has a little “fun” with it and uses a shot glass instead of drinking it from a bag.
Although vampires don’t need actual food to survive, he still has meals with Darlin’ so they don’t feel lonely or so that he makes sure they’re eating properly. He also just really likes the taste of his own cooking.
He’s very “traditional” when it comes to relationships. Like, when he met Darlin’, he felt the need to meet their family. Obviously we don’t really know much about Darlin’ family so the Shaw Pack was the next best thing.
His cabin doesn’t feel as southern as his vibes set out to be. Darlin’ was really surprised to see the lack of taxidermy and animal skulls hung up on his wall.
Addition to home decor, he has a lot of fake plants because this man has no idea how tf to keep a plant alive to save his life, but he wants his home to feel alive in a way.
He doesn’t own a lot of sweaters, but he does have a SH*T ton of flannels. Like a very very concerning amount of them.
I could be wrong but I think I remember seeing on the timeline that Sam didn’t have a good home life growing up. When he left, he did take a photo of his family because he genuinely does miss them in a way, but would never come to visit (nor could he because he’s a vampire and all that).
When him and Darlin’ moved in together, he thought about getting a dog, but when Darlin’s wolf fur started getting everywhere, he decided to pass on it.
He’s deathly afraid of chickens.
He’s thought about wanting kids but after having to take care of Darlin’, he doesn’t feel the need to anymore lmao.
He has a picture of his first party (whatever the vampire party was called) with the clan. He absolutely hates seeing himself in a suit, but Darlin’ loves it and thinks he looks “very pretty”, in their words.
He sleeps on his stomach. Whenever he wakes up, he’s always super sprawled out, the blanket isn’t even on him anymore.
I’m pretty sure this is already canon, but his favorite season is autumn/fall. He just likes the colors and how it’s not really as sunny outside so he’s able to sit on his porch during the day.
Sam can sing. Like really well. The first time he actually sung around people was during a little meet up with the Shaw Pack and they did Karaoke. He sung River by BRKN LOVE, as Darlin’ requested and they absolutely fell more in love with him.
I feel like Darlin’ also got him into Hozier but the only songs he religiously listens to is Would That I, Like Real People Do, and Cherry Wine (but specifically the live version).
He HATES dancing. Absolutely hates it. The most he’ll do is tap his foot or sway a little bit.
Definitely gives the absolute best hugs. He’s a tall, little bit chonky guy. He gives the most perfect bear hugs.
Also because he’s not an actual prince, but is a duke of the Solaire Clan, William got him a custom made broach. He’s very grateful for it and never wears it. He leaves it in the box on his dresser with his other important trinkets and photos.
He has a box full of random stuff that Darlin’ has collected over the years from the forest.
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