#please tell me that nail devil wants to open a nail salon

[tfw-no-tennis]

fujimoto soooo good at getting me incredibly invested in bitchy morally grey androgynous devils…first angel devil now nail devil….how does he do it

[st4rbwrry]

motive. yuuki anzai.

੭ cw: fem!reader, dry humping, stalking ( barely ) , taming, chubby reader, biting, blood, sneaking in, black coded.

mocha’s note: ep 8 of devils line still replays in my mind. this man makes me feral.

anzai sits limply on the roof of your house, staring into your bedroom window to see you dressing in a comfy two piece short set while humming softly to the music lowly playing in your steamy bathroom. he doesn’t want to disturb you when you look so peaceful like this. applying products to your face along with other moisturizers. tying your locs up into a bonnet before leveling your head down in the sink to brush your teeth for the night. he knows you had class today, also did a few hours at the salon before coming home. it’s close to eight, midnight out and he’s trying his hardest to ignore this ache below his belt, fangs protruding from his mouth like a demon. eyes red, and the claws in his nail beds growing sinisterly longer.

you were the first person he could think of when the sun set. fighting the urge to hurt a human being. but being here was worse in a way. the last thing he wanted to do was hurt his girlfriend. even if you’ve told him multiple times that he could take what he needed from you, an ounce a blood—whatever he desired to keep him sane. he hates when you’re like that sometimes. so careless for your life all because of the love you have for him. you’re willing to take risks if it means he can stay in your life. you need each other, crave one another. it’s hard to live life without the others warmth. his face is pale as he heaves in his seat, hunching over to catch his breath, dark hair shielding most of his face.

a knock on your window makes him jump, hastily darting his eyes into your room to see your eyes targeting his. dammit. he clicks his teeth, shamefully turning his face away when he noticed the concern in yours.

“anzai,” there it is, that softness of your tone, the warmth like a fuzzy blanket being thrown around his shoulders as if he’s a small child who’s having a nightmare. it feels like one. every. damn. day.

“i shouldn’t have come, i apologize.”

“you’re always welcome here,” you pull your window open wider. “come inside, please? it’s chilly.”

“i can’t. i need to go—”

your hand grabs his wrist as soon as he begins to stand, ready to leap off the roof. the black long sleeve on his skin is thin, and you worry for his body temperature. visually, it looks like he’s cold as ice, but on the inside, he’s burning up.

“where’s your mask?”

“i dropped it when i ran away from this woman. she was running at the park and fell—scraped her knee pretty bad. the smell—i was going to kill her. but something pulled me back. i ran and that’s when i lead myself here.”

“how many times do i have to tell you that you’re not a monster?” anzai freezes, swallowing from the stringent pitch in your voice.

“baby—”

“i don’t care what your natural instincts are, or some stupid shit like that. you’re half a devil. half. the other part of your heart remains human.”

“that doesn’t change the fact that i’ve killed people, baby.”

“on accident,” you correct.

“on purpose,” he retaliated, his voice shaky. “don’t pretend i’m innocent just because you love me. that one person i killed still lingers on my mind. it’s tortuous. it burns me deep inside to know what i’m capable of. any day i could do the same to you, whether an accident or with control—doesn’t matter. i’m dangerous.”

it upsets him when you’re silent, stepping back and blinking, waiting for him to come inside. finally, after sulking and sighing, he climbs through. the room is silent, anzai crouching on the floor with his back to the wall as he watches you shut off lights and turn off your music. only the soft lights from your pink star-shaped night lights illuminating the area. you pull the sheets halfway off your bed, tossing off your plushies to make room with him.

“come lay,” you pat the empty spot beside you with a lazy smile.

“i think i should keep my distance.”

your eyes roll. sometimes he agitates you with his protectiveness. “anzai, i’m not saying it again.”

the dark lanky man stand to his feet, removing his boots before slipping in with you. he lays on his back, keeping his attention to the ceiling. if he looks at you any longer he’ll definitely lose control. his blood lust was one thing, but the added arousal was even more painful. he didn’t want you too close to where you’d feel it in his jeans. but, his prayers aren’t on his side when you slide closer to throw your right leg over his toned abdomen while your arms wrap around his neck you bury your face into, wanting to give him a hug, hoping it’d soothe him.

“um,” anzai swallows, feeling your heartbeat bang in his eardrums loudly, the flow of blood in your veins bombarding his senses. the warmth on the mound of your cunt on his stomach, those shorts barely barricading your soft skin. anzai breathes heavily, his hands shakily rising beside him to grope at your thick hips, flesh melting through the gaps of his fingers like butter. his dick twitches in his black jeans as you shift above him, lifting your face and pressing your nose to his.

“your dicks hard,” you whisper, plump lips caught in your teeth.

anzai groans, hating that you noticed. “i-i know. i’m sorry.”

“don’t be, i know you can’t help it.”

anzai feels himself sweating, the pads of his nimble fingers bruising your hips. your body drifts down as he pushes you down to sit on his bulge, growling lowly, the ball in his throat bobbing.

“wanna use me?”

anzai stifles a moan, mouth parting as your hips begin to roll, precum dampening the fabric. the cloth to your shorts gets caught on his zipper, snatching you in place with your clit pressed on the cold metal. your ass engulfs your shorts, giving anzai access to run his hands over your plump ass before giving it a soft spank. the vermilion and honey in his eyes darken, your fingers threading his hair, tits pressed firmly to his chest. having you on top of him was lethal. he can’t control himself now.

“don’t wanna fuck you, jus’ wanna feel you.”

a tiny squeak falters from you as he swiftly flips the two of you over, his breath fanning your face like he’s in pain. he angles his hips so he’s just on your clit, hyperventilating when noticing that you’re really wet. so fast. how?

“you smell so good,” he bends down to brush his nose up the valley of your breasts, inhaling your scent until he comes up to your neck, jaw widening as the points of his fangs graze your flesh, tongue slipping out to kiss and suck on your neck. you squirm underneath him, trapped by his weight on you.

“can i taste you? jus’ need a little,” anzai asks with a strain in his voice, grinding his hips. you gasp and nip at your bottom lip, whimpering and nodding. he’s done it before, but he prefers to ask. his cold hand grabs your chin, turning your head to the left to gain access to the pulsating vein pumping warm blood for him to drink. anzai makes sure not to penetrate too deep, or drink too much to where he hurts you.

“i love you.”

you caress the back of his thigh, anzai always saying that before he pierces the sharp fangs into your neck, only enough for blood to seep out into his mouth. he moans loudly as if he’s having an orgasm, rolling his waist and shoving you down into the bed. hes becoming rougher, palms flat on the back of your thighs he pins down to your knees are by your waist, feet dangling in the air. anzai lifts his hips to thrust against you, pulling his face away after you make a noise and licks his lips. his teeth retracted, no longer in sight, but the lust in his pupils remain.

“make me feel so fuckin’ good,” anzai pants above you, his forearms hooked under your knees and pounding his hips harder until you’re scratching at his biceps and leaking in your shorts, coating his jeans in the filthiest way. it’s like he’s actually fucking you, slamming his hips and watching you jolt underneath him. anzai grunts as his cock runs on you the right way, so so close to cumming. he snaps harder, your mattress helping him out as it bounces you up to meet his hits, both of your mouths open as you gasp, moan, and choke.

“anzai, c-closer,” your pawing at his shirt, needing closer contact with him. he stops, hiking his shirt over his head before tossing it, hair tousled over his forehead and he looks so fucked out, so desirable.

anzai throws your legs over his shoulders before he leans down and drags you lower underneath him, cradling your head in his arms and resting his chin in your hair before humping you quicker, clutching either side of his ribs and withering in his hold. the bed squeaks with every movement, drooling at the corner of your mouth as your eyes scroll back. the pulsing from his dick feels so good on your clit, toes curling as you drunkenly kiss at his shoulder. it’s so fucking hot what he’s doing to you. rutting like he’s starved, fucking you stupid like a virgin with clothes on. the fact that he can make you feel this way even without being inside you is mind blowing.

“take it, baby. i’m cummin’ right now,” anzai warns, body trembling, thrusts turning sloppy as he wets the inside of his jeans, cumming hard the same time as he grabs your face and kisses your hard, eating your moans up like his favorite meal. sucking on your tongue, your lips, gathering your hair in his wide palms before rutting faster to get you to cum, not taking long as you gush in your silk shorts and scratch at his sides, arching your back and shuddering uncontrollably.

anzai kisses you again, all over your face as he thanks you again and again. you eased the craving, even apologizing for having to bite you even for doing this considering you were exhausted. you fall asleep not long after, anzai taking it upon himself to change you out of your shorts for another pair and cleaning himself up before tucking you in and watching you sleep.

© 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞.

[big-wet-cas-eyes]

AUs: day 2 of @starrynightdeancas 's 2k followers celebration ✨ (ao3)

I didn't know what I wanted to do for this AU prompt so I had @vaxilddan send me a random job and @pixelhanzo send me a random trope and thus the monstrosity "dog groomer + enemies to friends to lovers" was born 

(wc: ~1700)

The little bell above the door dings right as Castiel hangs up the phone. Mrs. Tran is running a little late picking up her golden retriever, Alfie, but she assures Castiel that she'll be there soon. He doesn't mind much; Alfie is a polite dog, and he's been napping quietly in the corner while Castiel tidies up his grooming salon for the last twenty minutes. The front door closes loudly, causing the bell to ding again, and he looks up to see a tall man walking through the door with a scruffy ball of fluff tucked under his arm.

The man might be handsome if he didn't look so exhausted. Strong, stubbled jaw, sandy hair, green eyes… exactly Castiel's type. But the deep purple circles under his eyes make it look like the man hasn't slept in a week. He doesn't get a good vibe from the guy.

Castiel frowns slightly. Alfie was supposed to be his last appointment of the day. He glances down at his schedule, seeing nothing after Alfie. They do take walk-ins, but he was hoping to close up early. Business is business, though, so he pastes his customer service smile on his face.

"Hello, sir. How can I help you?" Castiel greets as the man reaches the desk.

"Hey, uh, you guys do nail trims right?" the man asks as the fur under his arm wiggles.

Castiel eyes the dog warily. It's filthy and matted. He can't even see its eyes. "Just a nail trim?" he asks, unable to stop the skepticism from dripping into his voice. He's trying not to judge, but if he just does a nail trim, this dog is going to leave his salon looking like it's never had a bath in its life.

"What?" The man looks up, surprise in his now wide eyes. He glances down at the dog and grimaces. "I guess she is pretty dirty. Do you have time for a bath? Or I could make an appointment for another day if you're busy?" He sounds unsure, looking around Castiel and probably noticing Alfie, who is awake now and watching the new arrivals.

"No, Alfie there was my last appointment for the day and he's just waiting to go home. I have time to do a bath." He watches the little dog wiggle even more, desperately trying to free itself from under the man's arm. "Who is this?" Castiel asks as he comes around the counter to get a better look at it.

"This is Baby. She's a, uh, pomchi," he replies, moving the dog to grip her under the arms, holding her out in Castiel's direction like she's a bomb. Castiel raises an eyebrow. The combination of dog breed and name don't exactly match this guy's rugged appearance, but he's heard weirder so he shrugs it off.

"Hello, Baby," Castiel says, reaching forward to pat her on the head. His hand snaps back immediately when the dog starts snarling.

"She's a little nervous around new people," the man says sheepishly.

Castiel frowns. He's seen a lot of nervous dogs, and they don't normally react quite this angrily. "I'll just go grab a leash for her." He grabs a clipboard from the desk and hands it at Dean. "Please fill this out."

He sends the man — Dean, according to his paperwork — on his way five minutes later with a promise that he'll call as soon as Baby is ready.

And that's how Castiel meets his least favorite dog grooming client.

Dean brings Baby into Castiel's grooming shop about once a month. She is absolutely, without a doubt, the meanest dog he's ever met. He's taken to muzzling her the moment Dean is out the door because he nearly had his hand ripped off one too many times during her first visit. She snarls and snaps and honestly just looks pissed the entire time she's there. And while she seems slightly more comfortable with Dean, he's caught the dog snarling at her owner a few times too. The dog is tiny, barely six pound soaking wet, but she's pure, concentrated evil.

This dog clearly got no training or proper socialization. He blames her Dean for that. He has no patience for irresponsible owners.

After six months of grooming the literal devil, Castiel finally decides to confront the guy. He doesn't care that it's unprofessional. He doesn't even care if he loses a client or gets a bad review. He's sick of this entitled dick bringing his asshole dog in. Baby has been snarling at him under her muzzle for a full hour, even now that he's completely done with her grooming and she's sitting in the bed in the corner. She sits and glares at Castiel, murder in her eyes. Castiel glares right back at her, and when the bell above the door dings, Castiel shifts his glare to the man walking in.

"Hi, I'm here to pick up B— woah, are you okay, dude?" Dean clearly takes in his glare and stops dead in his tracks, only making it halfway to the front desk.

"Your dog," Cas grits out through clenched teeth, "is the devil incarnate." He knows the anger is clear in his voice. He waits, eyes still fixed on Dean.

"I, uh," Dean stammers, hand rubbing the back of his neck, "I know she's a pain in the ass, but look man, I'm doing my best." He's looking at the floor now.

"I have to muzzle her. She's been snarling at me nonstop for an hour," he almost yells. He points behind him at the dog, not taking his eyes off Dean. "She's still snarling at me! I haven't touched her in fifteen minutes!" The dog growls slightly louder in the background, as if to prove Castiel's point.

Dean looks up, eyes wide. He looks horrified, and Castiel is actually starting to feel a little guilty. "Look, Cas, I'm really sorry, I had no idea. I can start taking her somewhere else. I'm not really a dog person—"

Castiel cuts him off. "Why the hell do you have a dog then?" He can tell that he's being too harsh, but he's just so angry.

The look on Dean's face shifts from embarrassed to sad. "She belonged to my neighbor. She passed away about six months ago, right before I started bringing Baby in to see you. She was always a little uneasy around people, but she seemed okay with me when I visited. That's why Mildred made me promise to take care of her when she was gone, but without Mildred around, Baby completely hates me." He looks Castiel in the eye, finally, eyes pleading. "I'm trying so hard to train her, but she's already eight years old and so, so stubborn. I have no idea what I'm doing."

And all of a sudden Castiel feels like a piece of shit.

He learns a lot about Dean in the next few months, and it turns out the guy isn't so bad now that Castiel doesn't feel obligated to hate him. He brings Baby in more frequently now that winter has come; apparently Baby makes a habit of walking through muddy, slushy piles of snow. Baby still hasn't warmed up to him, but he's more willing to work with her now that he feels guilty for yelling at a guy who was just trying to do the right thing.

Castiel and Dean start chatting more and more whenever Dean drops her off and picks her up, lingering a little longer with each visit. The conversation usually centers around Baby, but Castiel has learned a little bit about Dean's life as well. Dean clearly cares about Baby, even though the dog looks at him like she might kill him at any moment.

Castiel is starting to consider him a friend when Dean asks if he can help train Baby.

"I'm not a dog trainer, Dean," Castiel says, feeling sorry for the words when he sees the look in Dean's eyes. Disappointment.

"I know, but, and you're not gonna believe this, she likes you better than she likes almost anyone else," Dean says, holding up his hand when Castiel opens his mouth to protest. "I swear, it's true. And you're actually a dog person, so I thought maybe…" He sighs loudly. "You don't have to."

Cas takes in a deep breath. He ignores Baby growling behind him and says, "I'll do it."

The bright smile that breaks across Dean's face makes it instantly worth it.

That's how Castiel finds himself at Dean's house every Friday night after work. Baby actually is a little more bearable to be around when she's at home. The disdain she shows in the grooming salon shifts to mostly disinterest as long as Castiel keeps his distance. Dean's not sure that they'll ever get any training accomplished until she trusts Castiel, so they mostly just sit on the floor in the same room as her, scooting closer to her occasionally to get her more comfortable with his presence. Castiel figures that she doesn't need training as much as she needs to get used to human contact, so he's fine with the approach. Luckily, it gives them a lot of time to talk and get to know each other beyond the short conversations they've been having for months.

Things with Baby are slow-going, but after a few weeks she lets them sit within arms reach without snarling, at least until they try to pet her. It's not much, but it's progress. And he feels the progress in his relationship with Dean, as well. The first few times Castiel comes over are a little awkward, but eventually it feels as if he's known Dean forever. Maybe they had a rocky start, a slow progression toward friendship, but Cas doesn't regret how things played out. He doesn't mind that it took some time and effort to understand Dean (and Baby, for that matter). He doesn't mind that it wasn't easy.

And if sometimes Dean reaches across the floor and holds his hand, or kisses him on the cheek on his way out the door… Cas doesn’t mind that either.

[daddy-satrinava]

8th of July part 1

[AO3]

Words: 1961

Rating: General

Nadia merely sighs when you shake her shoulder gently, and nuzzles against the pillow. You know it takes more than that to wake her up, so you lean in and kiss her cheek, then her forehead, and finally, when you press your lips on her ear lobe, she opens her eyes.

“That tickled, you know.”

A dozen kisses later, she lifts herself higher on the pillow and pulls you into her arms. It seems only now she notices you’re fully dressed, and says “How come you’re awake so early? Portia hasn’t even brought the tea yet.”

“Oh, but she did,” you laugh, “About an hour ago.”

Nadia snaps in sitting position, hair sprawling over her face. “I beg your pardon?!” And when she looks out on the window, she sees the sun shining brightly over the city. “My love, I hope there is a good explanation for this.”

You chuckle and sit up next to her, brushing a purple strand over her shoulder and letting the touch linger. “Let’s see… yesterday it was the 7th…”

Her eyebrows slowly raise and she looks away for a moment. ‘Oh’ she says without words.

“Happy birthday, sleepy head.”

She tucks her face into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly, and stays like that until you wonder if this is how she intends to spend the day. But when she finally murmurs “Thank you,” her voice is shaking and your heart drowns. She’s… she’s crying?

You grab both her shoulders gently and pull back to look at her face. Those two beautiful red eyes are full of tears and avoiding you, as if that would make her emotions less relevant.

“Nadia…?” Unaccustomed to seeing her so troubled, you hesitate, but ultimately your hands cup her cheeks. She smiles fondly and huffs, but then a whimper escapes her throat and she bursts into tears. This time you’re quick to take her in a tight embrace, one hand on the middle of her back, drawing her closer, and the other stroking her hair. “Nadia, baby… what’s wrong?”

“I’m so… glad,” She manages, “I’m so glad that you care.”

Some moments later she wipes her cheeks gracefully and though her lips are still trembling, she claims to be fine. She’d much rather brush this outburst away, you know that, but that won’t do. Not today.

“Honestly, what did you expect?” You ask. “For me to ignore what today is? I would never do that.”

“No,” She takes your hand and intertwines your fingers, caressing your thumb with hers. “But I… Well, I suppose I should have known you’d be so sweet. Yet, I must admit I’m not used to such attention.”

You give her an inquiring look and she starts playing with your fingers. “Lucio never even remembered my birthday.” She begins, with a sarcastic twitch in corner of her mouth, then stops, looking for the right words.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” You say, but she shakes her head and continues.

“He had someone else remember it for him, and he would then throw a grotesque party and… and give me all sorts of tacky gifts that I so despised…” You want to sneer, but you let her go on. “He bragged in front of the whole city about how important this day was for him, yet he never told me that. I understood that was his way of displaying affection, but he never understood it wasn’t what I wanted.” Drawing her hand back, she inhales sharply and you’re unsure whether she wants to continue or not, but then adds, almost laughing: “I’ve never been loved in this way until now.”

Upset, you take her hand back in yours and press a kiss on it. “Happy birthday, Nadia.” You rest your other hand on her nape and kiss her forehead. “Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday.” You cup her cheeks and seal your lips together once,“Happy birthday”, and twice, “...and happy birthday. There, I said it once for every year he didn’t.”

She stares at you wide-eyed and for a second you fear she might start crying again, but instead a sweet smile grows on face and her gaze softens. That’s a little better.

“Now, is a day off on your likings, or would you rather spend it working with your courtiers?” You tease, trying to keep her amused. She sniffs and pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, thinking.

“I called for the Praetor today…”

As if you didn’t take care of that! “I sent word that the Countess won’t be seeing anyone today.”

“I was also expected to discuss the Lazaret project with Julian this afternoon.”

“He won’t be able to make it either, unfortunately, because there’s party he must attend to."

*

“DIDI!” Nadia is nearly tackled down by Nazali as soon as she enters the salon. The doctor is clad in their usual travel outfit, not quite festive but comfortingly familiar, though in addition they now have a pink feather boa thrown about their shoulders.

“Birthday girl.” Nonchalantly follows Natiqa, who kisses her sister’s cheek affectionately and takes a moment to admire her hair.

In red overstuffed armchairs sit Asra, Muriel and Portia, all greeting her in their respective ways. Julian, who is posed in the center of the room, uncorks a bottle of wine loudly and the sound is followed Portia’s cheerful shriek and a collective “Happy birthday!”.

To all this Nadia is dumbfounded, unsure who is she supposed to turn to first, and glimpses over her shoulder to you, seeking help. Nazali spares her of the decision by wrapping an arm around her waist and takes her to her seat.

“Have you brought it?” You slide to Natiqa’s side. She discreetly draws out of her sleeve a small velvet pouch, and you transfer it quickly to your pocket, then the two of you walk to the others.

“WHO wants lemon cakes??”* Natiqa brings over a golden tray and Asra is the first one to answer the invitation. He takes two and offers Muriel one, who glimpses it skeptically, but accepts it.

Once seated, Nadia widens her eyes at you when no one’s looking then gives the first of the many genuine smiles she’d throw this afternoon. Feeling your heart swell, you can’t contain yourself and give her a peck on the cheek.

Nazali talks about their last journey and gives their sisters an update on Prakra’s affairs, Portia engages with Asra and Muriel in a conversation you can’t hear, but assume it’s about the cakes, and Julian notices Faust crawling up his leg. He lets out a short scream and starts kicking the air, waving his hand insistently at Asra. You come to aid and lend Faust a hand, who is clinging rather tight to the doctor’s boot, but abandons him to slither up to your elbow. “Hi,” you chuckle as she flickers her tongue at you. “Would you like to give Nadi a kiss?”

“Please tell me you are wearing that as a jest.” Nadia gestures at Nazali’s scarf. They run a hand through it fondly and grin.

The sheer concern on her face disappears when her gaze falls on Faust, peeping over her shoulder. “Why, hello there. Thank you for coming.”

You told the servants their assistance won’t be necessary and indeed, the small party atmosphere proves to be far more enjoyable for Nadia and the guests as well. You share stories, most of them about the Countess, who displays various shades of red depending on the nature of the said misadventures. And they grow more and more peculiar as the afternoon goes by and the number of empty bottles increases.

In the setting sun, you all descend to the gardens for a refreshing stroll. Passing the fountain, Asra remembers another birthday party at the palace where things ‘got a lot cheekier’ and ended ‘with some splashing’. He earns perhaps the deepest blush from Nadia, who, despite your insistences to elaborate on the subject, is quick to announce there will be no more tales.

“Shan’t we focus on the present?”

“The presents!” Portia claps.

Though you stated gifts aren’t a requirement, everyone brought a little something for the Countess, much to her desperation. The opening takes place on the veranda, where she expresses her utmost gratitude to the group for this pleasant surprise, and takes time to marvel at each gift.

“Muriel, this is gorgeous!” Nadia gasps, holding the small jewelry box he made for her. “Thank you, dear.”

“Asra gave me the idea…” Red colors his cheeks as Nazali and Natiqa come closer to examine the gift, but he’s also smiling. The Satrinavas show interest in his sculptures and he actually tries being polite, answering monosyllabically to their various questions about his material and methods.

Some time later, before dinner was served, Natiqa stands up abruptly and Muriel, who is seated next to her, moves his chair further away, frowning. All heads turn to her as she taps her nail on a glass.

“Oh my, you’re tall!” Portia muses.

“I know, right? Can you believe I’m the shortest of my sisters?”

“Tall…” She didn’t seem to hear her response.

Natiqa rememberers why she stood up, and raising her glass solemnly, she coughs and speaks. “I apologize for the interruption, but I believe we should have a toast for our beloved Nadia.” Everyone grabs their glasses and follows Prakran ambassador.

"Ever since I came here, to Vesuvia, I tried to fit as best I could into your world, sister. You are respected and loved, you have great friends, and not even your enemies are boring. I mean, The Devil? Whew. I must admit, life here is so much more animated than in good ol’ Prakra, where nothing ever goes wrong.Sometimes you must put down a fire and rebuild a city to know you’re alive.” Nazali giggles. “And this sweet magician,” Natiqa points at you and smirks, “You two have something so special I’d advise you to cling to it, but I know you know. What I’m trying to say is that you’ve grown. The little Satrinava princess scribbling about mechanical wings and pulleys is long gone.” You peek at Nadia and to your surprise, she smiles at the mention of her childhood self. “I’m looking at this beautiful, smart, passionate woman and I’m thinking, ‘where was I when she learnt to fly like this?’. Since you last visited home, you battled the plague, slept for three years, dealt with your undead goat husband and those things at the Masquerade, then you got married and saved your city. I wish I told you this when you needed it more, but I tell you now that our family is proud of you, Nadia. I am proud of you. I love you, and I hope every day of your life is full of love. May you bless us with your presence for many, many years to come, and may you drink with us for just as much.”

“For Didi!” Nazali beams.

“For the Countess!” Julian joins them.

After a ripple of clinking glass and best wishes, all the eyes move to you. The toast! Of course it was expected from you, why didn’t you think about that?

You stand up reluctantly and look your wife in the eye. “Uh, Nadia,” you feel heat rising to your cheeks and your mind goes blank, “I… I hope you didn’t hate this party.” In the silence that settled over the table, you clink your glass on hers. Then everyone bursts into laughter.

She leans towards you, resting a hand on your nape. “I didn’t,” She whispers in your ear then kisses you. You hear Portia saying “Awww”, then you kiss Nadia back.

[homo-pink]

for anon, who kindly asked 4ever ago: something like blowjob queen like dean being sammy's whenever , but sam only being deans when sam wants. dean totally gone for sam and sam toying with him, making dean almost cry with lust, sam almost lolita like with his young boy thighs and sweetheart pink lips. give me needy weecest or give me death. im begging for it, for your writing. dirty, wrong, lustful weecest. where sam turns dean inside out just with his kid breath and doe eyes. please

(here’s mean little lolita!sammy ruining dean just for funsies ♡ )

where the weed decays

Sam gets the tiny wink of his bellybutton pierced at the devil’s tail of summer’s end.

It lasts only for a while, until Sam grows bored of it.

Sam’s outgrowing things constantly the year he turns thirteen -- band shirts that Dad wore before Dean, the backseat of their sleek black mobile home, a life spent stifled between a drunk and a delinquent -- and eventually it’ll be Dean’s turn to sit on that sorrowful little list.

Sam won’t always need him around. Worse, Sam won’t always want him close.

But for now he pulls up the thready hem of a Poison ’93 World Tour tee that used to sit at Dean’s belt buckle, now sawed off to almost crop top obscenity, and nudges Dean to look.

Dean doesn’t just look, of course. He stares. And aches.

It’s a tiny silver loop through the tippy top, not even one of those dangle charms, or the big diamond bars the girlies in Dad’s titmags wear. Dean thinks it might be a small earring hoop actually. It’s delightfully fucking skanky and Dean falls hard for it.

Mouth cottony, Dean looks away. “Old man’s gonna kill you,” he says, and presses his hipbones to the kitchen sink counter, badly in need of privacy.

Sam rolls his eyes like a b-movie teen queen and clicks his teeth. Says something that sounds erringly like not if I kill him first, but he’s sloped off to the other room now, fled into the arms of one of his summer reading list novels.

Dad never ends up noticing. He’s too tired, too busy, too boozy most heat-swelter days. His youngest son’s tight, tan, girl smooth tummy isn’t something he spends an awful lot of time fretting over.

Not like his oldest son does. It sucks being in love with your little brother.

~

August feels like death row.

Compressing, archaic, and the notion that something real bad is waiting around the turn.

Dixie Inn is a gas-mart town, said and done. They’ve got two scrappy hair salons, a spicy seafood restaurant with a mostly dead-gamed arcade off to the side, and a head count the size of the high school Dean attended three states ago. Clothes stick to bones and the water’s sometimes foggy brown if run too long.

Dad says they won’t be there but a breath, but he pays eight weeks rent anyway. Shitholes go for $88/month and a carton of Newports that year.

The neighbor next to them lets her tear-stained curtains billow in the open window, lets her records scratch and skip, mournful oldies. Sometimes Sam says he thinks he hears her crying at night. Dean thinks Sam just likes listening to people in pain.

~

They fit in around town. The red-eyed haggard man who rolls up with a couple of dirty-nailed kids trailing behind him like beer cans on a bumper.

John and his liquor-tar breath, the engine oil hands. Sam’s greasy mess of windblown hair; thin, half grown, mosquito bit legs. The cheap tobacco mouth on Dean – set to sneer. Not to mention Dean’s downright inbred urges.

Yeah, the Winchesters are a couple hundred times nastier. Grimier, too recluse.

Most of their civil cues come from barfights or old black and whites.

One of Sam’s counselors tried to tell John his boys were socially stunted, but that was two handfuls of no name towns ago and she doesn’t exist to them anymore. She didn’t really exist then either. Dean slips further and further into misplaced lust the longer they go without steady, non-blood related companionship. He was probably born sick.

~

All day long, crooners are carrying over the stale soupy air.

Bobby Vinton is lonely, Patsy Cline is crazy, and Skeeter Davis reckons herself a clown. Dean feels a stupid mix of all three. Because Sam knows.

Or Sam thinks he knows, at least. And that’s only half as bad as really knowing.

He does things to Dean. Mean things.

...pulls shiny red chocolate-centered suckers out of his mouth and slips them between Dean’s lips midsentence.

...hide’n’seek humps Dean’s pillow, Dean only finding out when he’s turning in, face crammed into the sharp scent of Sam’s most secret smells. 

...leaves bathroom graffiti when he knows it’s Dean’s turn next. Shaving cream hearts in the mildew sink, a kiss-print smudged in the mirror steam, the word DIRTY spelled out with strands of his own soggy hair on the tile in the tub.

Dean’s little brother is as cold and as cruel and as beautiful as a king should be.

But it could be worse. At least Sam only thinks that Dean wants to fuck him.

read more on AO3

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Never mess with our Lilly; Avengers (mostly Bucky and Loki) x teen reader

This was one of the first few oneshots that I did when I first signed up onto Wattpad.  I really enjoyed writing this so I hope you guys enjoy reading it. Be warned for mentions of being stood up but our favorite God of Mischief and Lovable and dorkable Soldier will make it better for you all in the end *spoilers* ;) I do NOT own the gifs they belong to their original owners, I merely just using them for this oneshot. Any other names that I mention are just coincidences nothing more, again just picked the first reasonable name that came to my head, so if your name is Jason or Phillips just change it into a different boy’s full name.

Taglist:

@evyiione

__________________________________________________________

Well I guess I should first introduce myself first of all, my name is Lily Carter and yes I am related to the one and only Peggy Carter, she's my great grandmother while Agent 13 is my mother so I am a younger SHIELD agent as well as the youngest Avengers member. My 'powers' are that I am a point blank master assassin like Clint and Natasha who were actually my teachers.

I also know how to get inside people's minds and figure them out whether it's interrogation or rehabilitation (like when I had to help Bucky Barnes aka the Winter Soldier remember his past, and also interrogate the God of Mischief himself to find out whether he was trustworthy since he has to be here for his sentence and join in our little band of circus monkey's).

Both of which had passed and are official Avengers members.

Anyway since I'm only 18 I still have to have an education so I go to a special school for SHIELD agents/young superheroes. Even though I had a brain even more smarter than Stark, my mom insists that I still attend and graduate only then could I officially become an agent in her eyes, even though I have the badge and ID to show her.

And I'll tell you this, this school is just like any other school minus what you would find in a normal school. We had normal activities like any other school speaking of which with it being close to the end of the year, there was big talk of what was coming up, the one thing I'm never prepared for and fear the most.

Prom night.

Natasha, Pepper, Jane and Darcy all put down their work and forced me from shop to shop looking for a dress, planning my makeup, spending hours in the salon to get my hair and nails done and it probably wouldn't have been such a big deal if I had told them I had been asked out by a boy.

But sadly it did.

Finally the hellish night arrived.Darcy was doing the last final touches of my makeup while Pepper did the last curl of my hair and pinned the last braid I needed. Once I was done, I walked down the stairs slowly in my 3 inch silver heels and saw all the guys staring at me with gaped mouths.

"Well boys, what do you think of our youngest Avenger now?" Natasha stated.

"Whoa baby!" They all chorused together. I looked down at muttered.

"Gee thanks, that makes me feel even more better knowing you all think I'm a frilly flower now".

"No, no, no Lilly not at all, you look-beautiful". Steve said the first one to be modest. Tony then came up and surprised me by twirling me around to get a good look at me and playfully dipped me and brought me back up as he said.

"Miss Carter you look absolutely gorgeous, though you might wanna cover up, you're showing too much".

"Oh so it's okay for other women to show too much but when it's with me you flip out?" I sassed at him as everyone exclaimed and laughed.

"She got you there Stark". Clint said as he twirled a drumstick between his fingers.

"Hey, I'm just trying to make sure that no boys have ill intentions against my little niece".

"Oh so you mean boys like you".

"Damn she's on fire". Clint muttered to Thor as the God of thunder nodded in agreement.

"Alright, alright enough sassy remarks Lills, it's time for Prom pics!" Darcy exclaimed as she took out her phone and I could hear the snap of her phone camera. I blushed and turned away trying to avoid prom pics but it was too late.

So I sucked it up and got a pic with everyone and sometimes even more than one pic with the same people (mainly Tony, and my two counterparts/old patients Bucky and Loki).

The Avengers are like family to me in more ways than one. Steve was like the sweet, slightly awkward but loyal father even though he would've been my great-grandfather if he and Peggy had started a life together. Tony was the overly funny, party hard but protective uncle. Bruce the shy, smart and loving second uncle.

Clint the funny, sweet and overprotective big brother. Thor the over-enthusiastic but loving and sweet uncle. Natasha the sarcastic, loving but badass big sister. Sam the amazing, brave and smart cousin.

And then there were Bucky and Loki.

Those two guys were more special to me more than the others most of the time due to their past experiences and torments they've been through. They became not only my bestest friends but the big brother's I've always dreamed of having due to their protectiveness, loyalty, and loving nature.

Most people thought it to be impossible to rehabilitate the Winter Soldier due to his red ledger against SHIELD, and trusting the God of Mischief after he had tried to enslave the human race just to get 'daddy's attention', way beyond possible not even thinking about being likely probable. But somehow I managed it and here they are now.

Finally I managed to usher them out because I didn't want them to interrogate my date Jason Phillips before I even left for the meeting place, that and they needed to leave for their brief meeting with Fury about their next mission that they were about to go to in about a week. Once all the Avengers were out, and Pepper, Jane and Darcy went out to girls night, I left the tower to go and wait by the Starbucks just a couple of blocks away from the tower.

I got there and grabbed a Latte and took a seat by the window and waited for Jason to come by and pick me up so that way we could head to the school and get this over with.

5 Minutes ticked by. Okay maybe he's still adjusting his suit.

20 minutes passed by. Maybe he's stuck in traffic with it being rush hour and all.

An hour and a half later. I'm starting to fear the worse of what's really going on but my stupid mind tells me I should keep waiting.

2 hours later. I'm calling it, because I'm starting to get sick and tired of people looking at me in a prom dress and taking notice I hadn't been picked up yet.

I got stood up.

I went outside and just my luck it started to rain. I lowered my head and took the walk back to the tower in the cold and rain. Once I got back into the tower I got into the elevator and said trying not to sob hysterically.

"JARVIS. Are the Avengers home yet?"

"No Miss Carter, not yet. Is there a problem?"

"No, just checking, what about Jane, Pepper and Darcy, are they here?"

"No, Miss Carter should I phone in Mr. Barnes or Mr. Laufeyson for you?"

"No JARVIS thank you though, I much rather be alone for a bit".

"Understood Miss Carter". The elevator dinged at the gathering room. I took off my heels, trying to dry myself off as best as I could and got out my secret stash of emergency Chocolate and ice cream.

Another hour passed as I sat in silence on the couch I heard the elevator ding and in came in the Avengers themselves. Natasha was the first one to notice me so she backed the guys away first to have a little girl talk with me first.

"Hey Lills, where have you been? We all tried to call you any chance we could get, we're you too busy with Jason?"

"He stood me up". I answered solemnly.

"What?" She asked.

"I sat at Starbucks waiting for two hours, then I had to walk back to the tower in the rain by myself". Nat leaned her head against my shoulder as the boys soon came in and took notice of my broken-hearted state.

"Hey Lills, what happened to you?" Tony asked.

"The douche Jason stood her up". Nat answered for me.If hell were to freeze over and the universe go into Ragnarok then and there, it would be due to the faces that all eight guys were making at that very moment Natasha had told them.

"Lilly-" Bruce started.

"Just forget it guys! I'm not in the mood!" I choked out as I took off running as fast as I could up the stairs to my room. I slammed it shut and ordered JARVIS to bolt it shut as I ran to my bed and sobbed hysterically.

I then heard a knock at my door and I whimpered out.

"Go away! I-I don't want to see anybody!"

"Lilly, it's us". Loki said. I knew that it would only be Bucky and Loki at the door this very moment but I didn't want them to see me like this. It's just humiliating.

"Lilly, come on kid open up". Bucky said.

"No please just go away!" I begged them but that's when I caught a shimmer of green and gold light and there stood the two devils themselves. "I hate the fact you can still do that Loki".

"What can I say? I'm gifted". He sassed. He and Bucky both then got the sympathy aura around them as they now sat on either side of me. "Come on Lilly, talk to us". Loki softly demanded. I knew I couldn't lie because they both know me too well to know when I'm telling the truth or telling a lie (that and it's hard to out-lie the God of Lies himself).

"It's humiliating to talk about-and I thought I had just said it. I wasted a whole month to try and impress some boy only to be stood up. Now I don't think I can show my face at school on Monday, everyone will make fun of me, and then I'll-"

"That guy wasn't even worth your breath, nor is he worth your tears". Bucky said as he gently wiped my tears away with his normal hand while his metallic one was rubbing soothing circles on my back. "He didn't even deserve you and do you know why? Because you are way out of his league". Bucky continued trying to cheer me up and make me feel good about myself. I softly lifted the right corner of my mouth in a slight smile as I stood up from my bed and walked towards my window as I said.

"Well you got me to smile a bit but there's still no way I'm ever gonna forget this night nor will I ever feel better about it". It was then I felt my prom dress change into my comfortable kitty PJ's thanks to a certain magic God.

"We know there's no amount of words that can comfort you at the moment, but we still would like you to at least enjoy your prom night". He got up and my room suddenly became a ballroom and soft music began playing.

Loki came up to me first and bowed as he held out his hand and asked in a gentlemanly tone.

"May I have this dance, my lady?"

"If I'm going to dance at my 'prom' shouldn't I at least have my prom dress back on?"

"My dear, you don't need to fluff up like a flower trying to impress everyone. You could be in these pajamas and still look like the Queen of the Ball, and I speak no lies when I say that my dear". I smiled softly then graciously took Loki's hand and he lead me in a gentle waltz.

When Bucky's turn came, the music seemed to change as did the room. The room was now set in a 1940's club with a slow 40's song playing in the background. Bucky held me close to his chest as we both swayed side to side as the music seemed to also lull me to sleep.

After Bucky's dance, he seemed to notice that I was getting sleepy so he gently picked me up bridal style and the 40's pub disappeared and my room was now back to normal as Loki untucked my sheets and Bucky set me down gently on my bed. Both my boys tucked me in and kissed my cheeks but before they left, I grabbed their hands and begged them to stay at least until I fell asleep, I didn't want to be alone.

And sweet as they were (at least to me) they accepted and laid on either side of me stroking my hair gingerly out of my face (Bucky) or softly humming lullabies to help me fall asleep (Loki).

Finally I fell into a deep sleep in the barrier of my two favorite Avengers/ex-criminals.

Bucky and Loki looked at each other with their dark and evil glares as they were thinking the same thing as I was finally in my deep sleep state.

Loki and Bucky then disappeared in a glimmer of gold and green light.

*Extended ending*

At Jason's house he was just preparing for bed when he felt like something or someone had broken into his house. He quietly took out his gun ready to fight off the intruder who had come into his house. He cautiously walked around his hallway when he suddenly felt something cold and hard knock him across the head and he fell unconscious.

When he awoke, he took notice of himself bound up very tightly against a chair. He tried to struggle to get out but everytime he struggled, the ropes would just get tighter and tighter like a python killing it's prey to make it stop breathing before swallowing it whole.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you". A voice sneered.

Out of the shadows came Loki in full armor including his helmet and scepter.

"That there is Asgardian wire rope. The more you struggle to free yourself, the tighter it'll bind around you".

"What do you want you psychotic God?!" Jason snarled.

"Well that is quite a foolish question to ask, but I'll enlighten your foolish Midgardian mind, I'm here on a special mission of my own doing".

"I'll have you know I'm a SHIELD agent, I can easily call and report you've gone back to being evil quicker than you can do your parlor tricks".

"Indeed you can, but let me say that number one, you're currently tied up at the moment and unable to call for back up. And number two-I'm not alone". Loki chuckled sinisterly as his smirk widened as he laughed. Jason was about to question when he suddenly felt a gun at his head as a metal hand choke him cutting off his airways. His head was forced back and looking down at him was the Winter Soldier.

Uniform and mask and all.

"Now then Jason was it? Let's discuss business, man to man to boy, shall we?" Loki sneered cunningly. Bucky released his grip on Jason's throat as soon as he nodded and Jason choked and coughed much needed air. "As you well know we've been redeemed into your society as members of the Avengers, for 2 years we've been under their supervision and have almost wiped our red ledgers clean off-however," Jason gulped as Loki's scepter was turned upward so that the point was now under his chin ready to pierce his skin if Loki deemed worthy of doing it. "You have hurt someone, very near and dear to the Winter Soldier and I".

"I don't know what you mean? I don't know anyone that would have connections with two of the most insane, psychopaths like you two".

"But you do. You ruined her night of happiness, you've humiliated her and now you claim that you didn't do anything to her". Loki removed his scepter away from Jason's throat and used his magic to release his bonds but before Jason thought he was in the clear, the Winter Soldier tackled him and forced him down on his knees and pressed a knife to his throat (shortly after intentionally breaking both of his arms while he tackled Jason to the floor)."Tell us now Jason, does the name Lilly Carter ring a bell to you? And don't lie to me, for I am known as the God of Lies and I'll easily know if you lie to me or not. For after all I am a patient man, my counterpart soldier however," at that cue, Jason felt the knife almost dig deeper into his skin as Jason finally cracked open.

"OKAY! OKAY YES! YES! YES I DO KNOW HER!! IT WAS ALL A BET!!! A BET TO SEE WHO COULD SCORE AGENT 13'S DAUGHTER AND GET CLOSER TO THE AVENGERS!!!"

Loki and Bucky looked at each other with pure hate.

"You filthy Midgardian men always make me sick. To gain a woman's heart and trust just so you can betray her and humiliate her just as she feels like she's won true happiness." Bucky released Jason so that Loki could grab Jason by the throat and lift him up as high as Loki could lift him (which ended up having Loki's arm fully extended). "I could have the given right to defend my Lilly's honor by ending your life right here right now for ruining her special night. The Soldier and I have no problem going back and spilling blood when it comes to her and anyone who hurts her-"

But then Loki released him allowing Jason to squirm and writhe at Loki's feet.

"It's a good thing for you though I'm playing nice for once, you even mention your bet to humiliate Agent Carter at your school come Monday, the Soldier and I won't be so nice when next we meet, and next time don't ever let me hear you've been messing with our little flower. Now take your pathetic form and get out of my sight".

Jason then crawled upstairs back to his room like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs.

"You let him off easy".

"It was worth seeing him writhe beneath me, and I think a threat is more promising than murder. Besides I'd hate to turn on Lilly like that after we had both promised to keep our ledgers clean".

"True". Loki and Bucky then illuminated into gold and green light and found themselves back in my room still sleeping.

They quietly came up to me and laid on either side of me and wrapped their arms around me like a barrier and their bodies giving mine warmth and protection. They knew they had done the right thing because I saw the good in them and helped them through their tough times, and now they believed they did the same for me.

Just goes to show, you never want to mess with the God of Mischief's and the Winter Soldier's little Lilly, or there will be hell to pay.

[theusualspotcafe-blog]

Liar, Liar; Nails on Fire

Game: Kingdom Hearts

Characters: (Okay there are a lot of characters in this, so I’m just going to list the main ones) Vanitas, Namine, Larxene, Aqua, Iris

Pairing: A little Vanitas/ Iris at the end

Rating: Everyone

Author: The Usual Spot Cafe

Word Count: 890 Words

Notes: Just a cute little thing about Namine and Vanitas being besties and it got a little out of hand lol. Have fun reading guys!

It was her eyes. Her eyes made the look so effective. Namine seemed to be able to call tears in her eyes at will and when Vanitas looked down into her pleading blue eyes to see them fill up with tears, he could never say no. It didn’t matter that as soon as he said yes (which he always does) the tears vanished and a huge smile broke out across her face. He still couldn’t avoid the face. The one with wide tear filled blue eyes and a chin that trembled just enough. He hates it, because that’s what lead him to here, walking to the salon with her. She wanted to dye her hair, why he had no idea. But she wanted to dye the ends mint green and frankly didn’t feel like dealing with the dye herself so here they were. Earlier that day she had gone up to him with the look and told him that she had no one to go with her and she didn’t want to go all alone so here he was… in a stinky salon. Vanitas scrunched up his nose a little at the harsh chemical smell as Namine walked up to the counter.

“Hey Larxene! I have an appointment for a manicure and hair dye.”

The blonde behind the counter smiled and nodded, “yeah just give it a few minutes for the hair, but we have nail chairs open if you guys want.”

“Okay! Oh can we also add in Vanitas for a manicure?”

Larxene nodded as she looked down in her book. “That’s no problem.”

Vanitas groaned quietly, “Namine I’m fine I don’t need one.”

Namine frowned and crossed her arms, “when was the last time you did anything with your nails?”

Vanitas looked down at his bitten down nails slightly abashed, “uh couple months ago?”

Namine gasped in scandal, “what!? Then it’s been longer than what I thought! Larxy!”

“Already on it.”

Vanitas groaned louder this time and ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Nams please, it’s not a big deal. I know I haven’t been going to the salon with you a lot anymore but I’m trying to save money!”

Namine just looked at him disappointed as Larxene shrugged. “I can always give you a free manicure if… you let me practice putting acrylic nails on you.”

“Ugh fine! I don’t care what they look like. As long as they’re black.”

The tall blonde rolled her eyes, “yeah yeah. Let’s get to work.”

She motioned them to follow her, leading them to a side section of the salon, the manicure desks were all lined up in a neat row. Namine sat down at the only one that had an employee waiting while Vanitas followed Larxene to one.

“How long do you want your nails?”

“I don’t care. Just do whatever.”

Larxene nodded and immediately set to work, getting out the supplies she needed as Vanitas placed his hands on the table and glared at the back of Namine’s head.

“You are the literal devil you realize that?”

Her shoulders shook lightly as she giggled. “Yeah I know Vanitas. I also told you a bit of a lie to get you here.”

Vanitas looked at her suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

On cue the door to the salon dinged open.

“Namine! We’re here! Time for a spa day!”

Vanitas narrowed his eyes when he heard Kairi’s familiar voice. “You told me you would be alone Nams, that’s why I had to come with you!”

Namine turned around in her seat with a smile, “oh! Did I forget I invited all of the girls along with us?”

“If you say Iris is here…”

“Hey Vanni.”

Vanitas’s eyes grew wide and his head fell forward with a defeated groan. “Hey… sweetie.”

“Whatcha doin?” Iris grinned and leaned over his shoulder, watching Larxene put the acrylic on his finger nails, making them way longer than he usually had them.

“Letting Namine and Larxy torture me.”

Iris giggled. “That looks cool. Maybe I’ll get one. But can I ask a question?”

“What’s up darling?” Larxene asked without looking up from her work.

“Why are you only putting the fake stuff on the last three of his nails?”

Larxene looked up at her as Vanitas blushed and looked away. “Well he is dating you isn’t he? He needs the… less dangerous fingers.” She grinned evilly as Iris blushed when the other girls in the salon began cat calling.

Luna gave a scandalous gasp from her pedicure chair. “Iris Amicitia don’t tell me that you’re active!”

Iris opened her mouth to reply but was stopped by Vanitas. “WE DON’T NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS HERE AND NOW OH MY ASTRALS!”

Iris smacked him lightly on the arm, “don’t shout Vani.”

Namine laughed, “yeah Vanitas it’s rude.”

Aqua pursed her lips at him. “I didn’t raise you to be rude or to talk about such uncouth things in public.”

“You didn’t raise me you crazy woman!”

“But I know your mother didn’t!”

Vanitas groaned and hung his head. “I hate all of you.”

In a chorus all the girls shouted, “you love us Vanitas!”

He rolled his eyes and slumped in his chair, settling himself in for a much unwanted spa day full of teasing on his behalf. It was going to be a long day.

[incaseofsurvival]

That Fat baby is my big sister; Lady with the legs is our mum. (I wasn’t alive when this picture was taken.)

I was always a “tender headed” child. That is, I cried when I got my hair combed.

I don’t remember when my mother[1. My mom is awesome and I love her to pieces and wouldn’t trade her for anything or anyone. She’s super nice and when the car dealer tried to screw me I called her to straighten them out– and she did. She’s wonderful and inspiring and shit at doing hair. She gets her’s done at a salon(not black) every weekend.] started relaxing my hair. I remember that it was probably, in part at least, my fault. At least once a week, getting my hair combed was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. It was exhausting for our whole family.

I’m the little one with “spiked bangs” (I liked to pretend it was a choice…)

My father would pace from one room to another like he really needed to visit the kitchen seven times in the 90 hours it took my mother to braid my hair so I looked like a little brown unicorn (three braids were the worst, but the woman only had so much patience).

“Maybe you could just let her rest for a bit?” my father suggested on the way back from pretending to need stuff in the kitchen again.

My hysterical sobbing ebbed a bit as I baited my breath hoping my mother (or some compassionate ghost that had recently taken her over) would shrug and let me run off to lick my wounds. And then maybe she’d forget and it would be over!? Muhahaha!

Sike! If looks could kill… My dad was finished with his rubbernecking and attempted intervention and my sobbing picked up again[2. From the pictures, it seems like my Dad isn’t around or we’re not cool anymore (I feel like because of black people stereotypes I need to say this). My dad is still around and I love him to pieces and take him to see sci-fi movies when I miss him and he and my mother are still happily married, living in the suburbs.].

One day this ritual ended and we moved on to boxes of relaxer.

I wasn’t happier but at least in-between treatments I could comb my own hair. Small victories, FTW!

The kit, like similar hair dye kits, came with chemicals that are to be kept separated until there is science to do. It also came with gloves and all the instructions in the world in tiny fine print. I don’t think my mother ever really read the instructions. Instead she, like many people, read the pictures.

Mix the stuff, base the scalp with Vaseline, part the hair, work quickly, rinse thoroughly.

Inevitably, some of these steps were skipped intentionally or accidentally. My mother kept her nails long so the whole basing the scalp thing was always a fight.

“It’s going to burn me.”

“Not if we do it fast. Sit.”

“You get gloves; I should get some protection too.”

After years of chemical burns and back and forth, I started basing my own damned scalp. And I was so thorough. I did my ears and baby hairs and the back of my neck. In all, each time I used about half a container of Vaseline. I wasn’t fucking with these burns anymore.

Eventually, I started going to the hairdresser to get my hair relaxed and DID.

I’m pretty sure this little number took a year. I asked for cornrows and the hairdresser was too lazy to do them and chose to do twists instead.

People who aren’t Black Women might not know this but Black hair salons are the worst version of a business ever. There’s that joke about CPT (Colored People Time)… It’s not funny when going to get your hair done is a six-hour affair. I’m not even kind of exaggerating.

Six hours. And it’s not because of elaborate styling or super delicate processes that require careful time management. No, it’s because of Fuck you, pay me.

There’s genuinely no good reason EVERY black hair salon I’ve ever been to has been a vicious time suck. It just is what it is.

Maybe the women doing hair needed to stop doing hair (all of the women at this salon) mid-way through processes and order then eat some food (true story). Maybe they misjudged how long it would take to do the client(s) before me and are now running behind by 2 hours (true story). Maybe the stylist is on the phone with her ex and has been for ages and will get you me when she gets to me (true story).

From the rundown nature of every black salon I’ve been to—I don’t WANT to be sitting in a broken chair reading VIBE from 3 years ago in a rented space in a project building (true story)— to the rundown nature of too many stylists I’ve encountered, I gave up on Black salons late in high school.

In high school, I decided to start relaxing my hair myself.

How hard could it be? If I was unsure, I just erred on the side of caution and might not have had bone straight roots. Whatever.After a while, I got more comfortable with blow dryer-free wash and go styling. I went longer and longer between touch-ups until I stopped doing them altogether.

Freshman year of college I grabbed my hair at the roots and felt where the unrelaxed, natural hair ended and the relaxed hair started—this was my line of demarcation.

I started cutting in the front and didn’t want to live with a mullet so kept cutting until it was all gone.

I didn’t look too bad with super short, natural hair. Sure, my makeup was always on point and I never went out without earrings but compensations aside, I looked good.

My mother saw me over winter break and disagreed. She grabbed my hair (Damn it, there was just enough for her to grab a fistful) and exclaimed, “What have you done!?”

“Mum, we’re in the middle of the food court and it’s gone so if you could just let it and my hair go…”

She sucked her teeth and I thanked God we were in public meeting my cousin’s small children for the first time. “Can I touch your hair!”

“Sure.”

“It’s soft!” (children are always shouting to me.)

My dad loved it. He’s 100% for natural hair. Maybe from the experiences of his youth or mine… Either way, he was for The Big Chop.

Years later, out of college and into the workforce I got lazy.

Natural hair is hard work. My hair is thick and my arms are weak.

I research different kinds of relaxers, though I’m not totally sure what I was looking for. Maybe the most gentle or the most effective or the least chemically.

I used a kid’s relaxer kit and based my scalp generously.

As an adult, I got pretty good at doing my own hair. I was quick and efficient and cared the most about my scalp and ear health. I only did the relaxer lightly to just weaken the curl, not kill it completely.

I could blow my hair out if I wanted or I could keep it looking a little natural. The best of both worlds.

One Saturday afternoon I’m in the bathroom happily parting the hair and applying cream when a cluster of hair swings from its group on top of my head right into my face. Not just my face but my wide open eye.

“FUCK!”

“What’s wrong with you?” my Chinese-Italian (Asian&White) fiancé shouts from the other room not quite sure if this is worth pausing his game for.

As I scramble to remove the gloves and get to the kitchen sink where I can safely rinse my eye, I ask him to read the paper that came in the relaxer kit to see if there’s anything else I need to do. Eye drops? Ointment? Counter agent?

“It says to wash your eye thoroughly with water.”

“Okay good. Thank you.”

My expectation was that he’d put the paper down, pat himself on the back and go back to his computer.

Nope.

As I’m getting in the shower he says, “You actually put this on your body?”

“No… Just my hair and just at the roots.”

“It says to put in on your hair but not your scalp. How do you put something on your hair but not your scalp?”

“Um, you’re careful? I mean if it gets on you scalp for too long you get chemical burns.”

“You just got it in your eye!”

“So you don’t think we should relax our kids’ hair?” I asked with a chuckle.

Genuine horror. “People put this shit  on children?”

Hm.

At the rehearsal dinner for our wedding, one of my aunts asked me what I was going to “do about my hair”

Initial visceral reactions and presumptuous defensiveness of blackness and MY choices quelled, I said, “Probably stick some flowers in it.”

And I did.

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At my wedding with Unati and flowers in my hair!

Super Growth Hair Story! I was always a "tender headed" child. That is, I cried when I got my hair combed.