#| era ~ masked gentleman

[caramelcuniculus]

"I think you've had too much to drink," Descole tells the not-currently-masked man. He hasn't exactly been a light drinker tonight either, but Randall is starting to get a bit too sloppy with it. It won't do for their schemes to be exposed because some fiery redhead's anger gets a little too loud. "Perhaps vengeance is a dish best served when sober." [From Descole to Randall!]

"That's easy for you to say," the drunken Ascot muttered, his eyes mimicking something in between a squint and a glare. Nevertheless, he didn't seem pleased. "It isn't as though you're the one being betrayed and having everything stolen from you. Like- like a rug under your feet!" The thespian had a point in his admission; lashing out would only make their plans fall flat. That still didn't mean Randall wouldn't be upset by everything that's been going on. He would still rightfully be angry at Henry, perhaps Angela somewhat as well. Its never an easy feeling, to be stabbed through your back after everything you've been through with somebody. Randall felt disgusting, both from the alcohol and the thought of having ever seen Henry as the closest thing he had to a brother at all.

There was some recognition there, as the unmasked gentleman looked at the empty glass in his hand and then promptly placed it on the surface beside him. "What, you think I'm foolish enough to go about something unplanned? That'd make me a damned… fool! A foolish fool of all fools. The Masked Gentleman would be but a court jester to whatever rich kingdom Henry's built up for himself." Randall grabbed the glass again and tipped it to his lips, only for nothing to be there. He looked saddened, but groaned as he sat the empty drink back down again.

"Like, seriously? He had to use my treasure, my riches, just to get this city? He practically owns all of it! This is all some stupid fairy tale that doesn't have a happy ending… For him, at least." Randall snickered and raised a hand to his lips, cooing into his palm. "He'll rue the day the bad guys win. We'll win, and I'll only laugh at him. It's what he deserves, after all. He doesn't deserve my pity, not after what he did to me. He stole everything, and I will do everything to steal it all back." A growl to his words was present as he gave Descole a hard and serious look. "… Even if I have to calm down and stop drinking."

[caramelcuniculus]

Descole's claim of pitiful-ness made Randall make a sad yet offended-sounding noise. "Not pitiful-rational! This is a rather fine way to bond if I do say so myself." And it eliminated the cuddling fiasco that she seemed so wholly against. This worked; the thespian was just making a big deal out of this. Yeah, she was doing it! He hadn't done a single thing wrong, and this worked everything out! The inner turmoil was enough to make the drunken Ascot whine again.

With his turn and less-than-elegant stumble, Randall shot up to sit straight on the bed. He was afraid he would collapse before getting over to the television. He was fine, and Randall sighed in relief. "Thank youuu…" He dragged out playfully, waving one of his hands as to give a modest gesture. It almost looked like he was waving her back over. The absolute nerve! But he was too drunk to care at that point.

It wasn't a surprise to either of them that Randall had little to no experiences with television. Due to the nature of Craggy Dale's secluded nature, no one had any to watch from. Given the fact that his life in Craggy Dale was the most recent and least foggy, the television and most of Monte d'Or's technological advances were alien to him. Had he made use of them through the Masked Gentleman's schemes? Of course he had. However, none of that would prove possible without Descole here. He wouldn't even be getting his revenge on Henry or anyone else for that matter. All thanks to the thespian that was acting odd and snotty with him at the moment… How rude of them!

Randall had seen how the television worked a few times now; he'd tested it out for himself with curiosity getting the better of him. He had his share of fun with it, until either Descole or some inconvenience came his way to make him turn it off. He'd been especially busy busy as of late too, considering the appearances of the Masked Gentleman mandating first priority. He wouldn't be here and have access to the telly at all if the Masked Gentleman didn't exist. He should be grateful, and even more so with how Descole was going to assist him getting back everything that was his, but these small moments… he liked. Randall Ascot wanted to like them, anyways. At the very least the thespian returned to his side. Not fully, as far away as she could manage, but she was still there.

Be it the alcohol or something else, but he felt warm and happy with the little he was getting.

Descole explained the small details well enough for the drunken Ascot to grasp the television scene. The Widower… Randall couldn't help but think of Angela, how she was left one all those years ago. That would change very soon, and then would come the tale of a widow's love returning to her and discarding the deadly title. The unmasked gentleman snickered quietly, but then found himself fixed on the events Descole finished describing. It looked so real… save for the flaws in the modern-day technology. His eyes were fully captured by the moving picture. It only took a forceful, self-induced head shake to snap him out of his television trance.

"What… did he put in? I didn't see. Could you tell me?" Randall sounded fully engrossed with the program, with wonder tingling in his words. He only looked at Descole for a few moments before returning to the telly. "Pretty please this time?"

Descole stares at Randall with a mixture of horror and secondhand embarrassment. Go up?! She doesn't want to think about that!! She openly flinches when Randall reaches out toward her, somewhat relieved to find that he isn't actually trying to grab her. She doesn't know what she might have done if he'd gone that far. Perhaps she should remind him that she's armed.

"Hmph. You're being pitiful," Descole huffs, unable to fully contain their disdain any longer. Honestly, does Randall want revenge or a childminder? She leans--or, more accurately, looms--over them, their usual confident aura significantly marred by their inebriated state. Ironically, given their remarks about Randall's potential death-by-stomach-contents, they are the one who looks like they might vomit, though not for any physical reason. Randall's bold attempts to show him affection are enraging, but something about that desire tugs on his drunken heartstrings in a way that makes him ill. There's another place, another time, another person that this situation invokes within his memory.

They turn away from Randall quickly enough to make themself dizzy. After taking a moment to stabilize their gait, they make their way over to the TV set and turn it on. They're immediately met with a familiar sight. It seems they can get ITV here. Good. As is to be expected of the modern Monte d'Or. At least they won't have to go channel surfing. Their tolerance for frustration is reaching its limits.

"Armchair Theatre," Descole declares vaguely, pointing at the little television set as if this action will have any clarifying effect for Randall. Theatre for the common man. Something she both appreciates and resents. Fitting. She stands, still somewhat shaky, and returns to the bedside where she reluctantly seats herself at the very edge of the mattress opposite Randall's position. Why?

"I've seen this one, "The Widower." Somewhat applicable to our circumstances here. Full of love and betrayal and terrible character decisions. We've only just missed the beginning. They're leaving Café Des Deux Chats. That man has just slipped something suspicious into the young lady's bag., and now he's on his way home. I trust you can follow the rest as it unfolds?" Surely Randall isn't the sort of person to talk over the television and ask inane questions the entire time, right? Right?

[ophelialoveshandsomemen]

Say what you will about Van Helsing 2004; hate it, love it, be indifferent, But the All-Hallow's masquerade ball went sooooo hard and it had zero right to do so! It's a fun, campy, monster mash movie with wonderfully dated ( and expensive) cgi and non-stop action meant to be a popcorn flick one takes out to watch around spooky season. And it has this* chef's kiss* GORGEOUS 6 minute sequence plopped arbitrarily in the second act, which unexpectedly surpasses nearly every other ball in the last 30+ years of film( notable exception being the Cinderella 2015 ball) for literally no reason other than to be dramatic af.

Like feast your eyes on this Gothic masterpiece!!! Who doesn't want to immediately live in this picture?!??

They used those candles with oil in them so that they would have real candles, real string orchestra( I believe), probably around 100 real life extras( something which is tragically absent in modern film), said extras are all in beautiful fully decked-out costumes( which are in luxuriously dark colours, but nearly no fully black, another thing you cannot say for much modern cinema), REAL CIRQUE DU SOLEIL PERFORMERS for all the acrobatics!!!! Hell, instead of filming in a sound stage, where they could control the reverb and the acoustics and the size of the set and the bloody lighting ( they apparently had a heck of a time emulating the firelight for this sequence) and the temperature( it's very cold in stone churches!) better, they filmed in a Baroque church in Prague! As I said, peak dramatic splendour, jfc...

Think about that a second...They filmed a vampire masquerade in a Baroque Catholic Church( St. Nicholas' in Lesser Town, if you were curious) with amazing over-the-top acoustics and marble statues and real, tiled floors and marble pillars and a choir loft which they very much utilized, covered the pipe organ and the altar with a grand brocade curtain so it wouldn't be so obviously a, you know, a church! And there's a gold gilt elevated and canopied pulpit into which they put two vampire kiddies for, again, the sake of being dramatic.

And the costumes! They remind me of the 25th anniversary Phantom of the Opera Masquerade costumes. Same quality, like they're old, well-cared-for costumes pulled out of a warehouse, instead of fast industry churn-outs. With lots of trim and colour and masks and lace and feathers and..just...ugh.. they are all perfect! Just look at all the head pieces on the ladies and the hats on all the gentleman ( save Dracula of course) and the powdered wigs on the musicians. ANNNNDD! The dresses are historically correct!!!!!! It's the 80's bustle era! Nobody does the 80's bustle era in film anymore and it's a bummer. Oh and one other thing! Anna's ( and other women's) hair, at least here in the ball, is also historically accurate because it's all pinned up! None of those fucken modern beachwaves at a ball! Everybody's got updo's!

Gah, I swear, Dracula in his gold cloak really does things to me in this scene!

By the way, the acrobatics are bonkers in here for just background stuff!! Especially the random guys on unicycles and the dude playing the violin whilst standing on a ball...Like....WHAT?

Anyways, all this to say, that this masquerade ball feels sooo real and tangible and because of that it blows every other film out of the water, and no, I will not change my mind!!!!!

Here's a few more gifs, bcuz, why the hell not, this scene is sexy as fuu*ck?

Alright I need to go to bed now.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Only For You

ALASTOR X READER Summary: You are beautiful there is no doubt about that. But Alastor would prefer that you kept that beauty only for him Warnings: NONE. Just sassy narrator as always(I will applaud anyone who figures out who the snarky narrator is of my stories) This was a request for the lovely @anon-of-the-void. Enjoy darling! REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN. See pinned post for rules.

In the heart of Hell, where the shadows danced to the tunes of torment, there resided a figure unlike any other – Alastor, the Radio Demon. He ruled over the airwaves of the infernal realm with his charismatic voice and sinister charm, a being of darkness wrapped in the allure of the old radio era. Having a penchant for old-fashioned charm and a twisted sense of humor, he found himself entangled in an unexpected romance with a fellow sinner….you.  There was a peculiar softness within Alastor, a hidden warmth that few dared to perceive save yourself. It was in the tender glances he shared with his beloved, the unspoken acts of service he provided and yes…even his certain shall we say—possessive nature. 

You were Alastor's almost in every way opposite. Which made it hard for many of the Hotel’s residents to understand how you even got together in the first place or even got along(That dear reader is a story for another time)

You exude confidence and have no qualms about your appearance. Proud of your demonic allure, you revel in showcasing curves and radiant skin. Yet, all of this sexual tension that is exuded was for none other than the Radio Demon himself, and for your own sense of amusement of course. Flaunting oneself for all of Hell only to be uninterested and leaving both men and women alike all hot and bothered was particularly entertaining one could speculate. 

Alastor, however, was not as open-hearted about such boldness from you. His possessive nature stirred within him, a jealousy that simmered beneath his charismatic facade. Oh how the screams of many who had dared look at his darling for a second too long made a horrific melody over his radio tower…You had long since tried to stop him for it was pretty much a futile effort at this point. Despite being the only one privy to what lied beneath your revealing clothing, the red demon still felt the swells of envy within him. He craved attention and that your beautiful soul only be turned in his direction and for him only. When you in the nude simply invited Alastor in the bathroom while showering for a chat. Poker was a common pastime while doing your makeup, to which he would often let you win, or listening to LPs while you both danced around half dressed. 

One fateful evening, as the shadows draped the corridors of Hell, Alastor and you found yourselves amidst a gathering of the Hotel residents and staff. Your laughter rang through the air, form draped in silken garments that accentuated every curve, every line of demonic beauty.  Wearing an outfit that highlighted everything, your fiery eyes sparkled with mischief. Alastor couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and possessiveness, his snarky smile masking the growing jealousy within him. He watched from afar, his ruby eyes ablaze with a mixture of desire and resentment. As the eyes of Hell lingered upon you(mainly Angel and Sir Pentious, the latter unable to help himself, poor gentleman), a surge of possessiveness consumed him. With a snarl disguised as a smirk, he approached your side, wrapping his coat around your shoulders; his voice dripping with honeyed venom.

“Here my dear, you must be cold.” Leaning down to whisper in your ear, he spoke so only she could hear “Darling, must you parade around like a succubus on display?" Alastor quipped, trying to hide his true feelings behind his charismatic persona.

You chuckled, a demonic laugh echoing through the chaotic streets. "Oh, Alastor, dear, why hide what I have? It's a crime to keep such beauty under wraps." Turning to face him, laughter dancing in your eyes. “Must you always be so possessive?” You teased with a voice so close to a melody that stirred the depths of his being.

Alastor's snarky smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of insecurity. "I just prefer to keep you all to myself, my dear. No need to share your radiance with the whole underworld."

However, not one to be controlled and quite liking to rile up your partner, you sauntered away from Alastor. With a mischievous glint, after taking off his coat and handing it back to him, you teasingly exposed more of your demonic allure. The other demons ogled in admiration(except Husk who knew better than to get between his so-called boss and his partner….also a story for another time), and Alastor's jealousy reached its peak.

Alastor's smile faltered, his grip reaching out towards your form and  tightening around your waist. "In a realm where darkness reigns supreme, one must guard what is precious," he replied, his words dripping with thinly-veiled jealousy. Little green lights flickered around the hotel as the shadows smirked and moaned, yet you stood there unafraid. 

Determined to claim your attention for himself, Alastor conjured a stylish black coat from thin air and draped it over your bare shoulders. "There, my love, let's keep a bit of your mystery, shall we?"

Laughing heartily and not bothered by the sudden cover-up, you relented. "If it makes you happy, Alastor, I'll indulge your possessiveness." Walking your fingers up Alastor’s chest to adjust and fix his bow tie, you flashed a soft and genuine smile up at your partner. 

"My dear Radio Demon," you whispered, breath warm against his ear, "there is no need for jealousy. My heart belongs to you and you alone."

With those words, Alastor's doubts faded into the abyss, replaced by the warmth of the embrace. In the depths of Hell, amidst the chaos and the shadows, love had found its way into the hearts of demons, a flickering flame in the darkness that refused to be extinguished.

“And besides my love, you know I never much cared for that kind of attention from anyone but you anyway.” 

As you and Alastor  continued your stroll through the Hotel while mingling with guests, Alastor clung to your side; content that he had, at least momentarily, subdued his jealousy. Little did he realize that love in Hell was as unpredictable as the flames that flickered throughout the underworld, and the dynamic between the snarky Radio Demon and his confident partner would continue to evolve in the fiery depths of their unconventional romance.

[caramelcuniculus]

Oh.

Well, that'd settle that, huh? He flew too close to the sun and now it was about to burst. Realistically it already did, and the Masked Gentleman's plans were about to succumb and shatter. Maybe the man, unmasked, would reach that same fate. Hera-Lee looked agitated; this was no longer a game he was winning.

And the old saying goes… a magician never reveals his secrets.

"Randall," the Masked Gentleman rephrased, the man underneath doing his best to sound confused. Regardless, his gloved hand took hers gently, as if he was actually going to follow her. "I've never heard of such a name in all my life."

Quickly, the Masked Gentleman pulled Hera-Lee's hand and arm down with a great force. With the professor stunned and startled, the Masked Gentleman threw down one of his smoke bombs, making the local area very foggy. When the smoke cleared, Hera-Lee was left entirely alone with fading chuckles from the Masked Gentleman.

Tucked behind a nearby building, the man underneath the mask let out shaky breaths. Too close… he had to get back. Using his swiftness, he was on his way back towards his current place of residence. Only one more thought entered his mind through the adrenaline rush.

Oh, they were going to be very angry.

A bit uncomfortable, she took a step back, her smile fading away in the blink of an eye. She held back a sigh before bluntly explaining, "I believe you are mistaken. If this is still about puzzle-solving, I can assure you, there is no part I do not enjoy. But enough about that. I can tell you're speaking of something greater than just that..."

Her glare suddenly grew intense as she adopted a very grounded stance. She stared up at him with her head tilted slightly downward, the brim of her hat casting a shadow over her eyes. "I've been able to piece things together here and there all throughout this little adventure, but recently, you have made the solution to this puzzle painfully obvious. So..." she loosely held out a hand in an inviting gesture "...why not finally end this charade, Randall?"

[kitten4sannie]

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ/ᴏʀɢᴀꜱᴍ ᴅᴇɴɪᴀʟ ➠ ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ

pairing: vampire lord! seonghwa x human! reader (fem) feat. a two second cameo from vampire! san

genre: abo, kinda historical (think guilded era vibe but vampires and humans coexisting kinda), smut

summary: you decide to play with your master’s feelings during the annual masquerade ball held between vampires and occasionally their human counterparts.

w.c: 2.5k

warnings: alcohol usage, mentions of blood, general vampirism/hierarchies, dom! seonghwa, bratty! reader fucks around and finds out, dirty talk, ownership kink, exhibitionism/voyeurism, praise/degradation, possessiveness, pet names/name calling, manhandling, blood drinking, groping, rough blowjob, spit mentions, fingering, orgasm denial, facial, cum eating, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, l bombs

a/n: im obsessed with the idea of criminally insane cunty vampires so i sat hunched over like a damn shrimp and typed up a storm tyvm. also !!! this fic is dedicated to my dear friend orion @pluvialorion ilysmmmm ughh i hope you enjoy >< <33

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ʙɪᴛᴇ ᴍᴇ ʙʏ ᴇɴʜʏᴘᴇɴ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

“Those two are always up to something, I swear. It’s so  troublesome,” one old age vampire muttered, complaining about you and your vampire Master to the person standing besides her outside of the ballroom circle. She adjusted her masquerade mask, put off by the sight of you downing a glass full of expensive wine. “Why the council ever decided to allow humans to attend our annual blood balls is beyond me.” 

“They always cause a scene,” the other old age vampire agreed, turning his head to watch as you whimsically made your way across the dance floor in your heavy laced dress, taking the hand of any vampire that wanted to dance with you, while your Master watched from the side with growing annoyance. “It’s unsightly.” 

“Yes, it’s completely inappropriate, the way they act like they’re the main characters inside some overdone fictional novel,” she scoffed, the vampiress getting herself worked up over nothing, her fingers clenching around her own wine glass filled with a blood blend. 

“You hit the nail on the head, or should I say the stake,” the undead gentleman chuckled, one hand on his hip, the other tilting his wine glass back to drink down its bloody contents, watching you trade one dance partner for another, surprised that you were letting a new age vampire get so handsy with you. “Oh, here we go.” 

Seonghwa reached up to brush at his flowy raven hair in a frustrated manner, his furrowed brows and scrunched-up face not doing much to dispel your current goal in pissing off your Master in hopes that he would chase you across the castle grounds and fuck you into oblivion. “You’re asking for it, little lamb…” he mumbled to himself, the bright red hue in his eyes growing brighter by the second. 

“I didn’t realize you were interested in me, Miss Y/N. Care to forget about your sour, old age counterpart over there and spend the night with me?” the charming, feline-like vampire you were using whispered into your ear, holding your body impossibly close to his as you both slowly rotated together in timed circles according to the flow of the orchestra music that was playing throughout the large ballroom. 

“Oh, Mr. Choi, try not to puff out your chest just yet,” you murmured back with faux pity, clasping your fingers around his cheeks, feeling his fingers inch closer and closer to your ass, able to feel the fiery gaze of your lover from afar. “You’re simply a puppet for my amusement.”

The vampire scoffed, still finding it inside himself to twirl you around and bring you back into his arms, his fingers clasping around your waist a little tighter than before, clearly irritated. “That’s quite rude of you, human. You could’ve lied.” 

“Does it matter? I’m not trying to impress you,” you huffed, eyeing Seonghwa out of the corner of your vision, noticing the way he clutched the edge of the aged mahogany table being used to showcase various blood-filled desserts. Just as the vampire was about to speak up, you shook your head, silencing him. “Just hurry up and grab my ass, will you? And grab it hard. I want Seonghwa to–Oh!”

The peeved vampire did indeed get a handful, his fingers sinking deep into your squishy flesh through your dress, leaning over your shoulder to make eye contact with Seonghwa, who was fuming, still having the gall to stick his tongue out at him. 

An intoxicating mix of anger and arousal coursed through Seonghwa to the point that it all spilled out of him at once, resulting in a short, aggressive shout, the other patrons looking over their own shoulders to see what was going on. Sadly, they weren’t very surprised to watch him lift up the side of the heavy dessert table and toss it across the room with a frightening amount of ease, narrowly missing the heads of the orchestra members. 

You let go of San who quickly scampered away, not wanting to feel the vampire lord’s intense wrath. You, however, took pride in seeing the way your lover was seething, how he pierced you with his dark crimson eyes and delightfully suffocating pheromones alone, his white, elongated fangs already on display for you, knowing he wished he could just sink them directly into the most delicate parts of your body. 

“Why are you so angry, my love?” you called out to him with faux naivety, giving him a pout, motioning to the mess that had spilled onto the sheer marble floor. “You ruined all those lovely desserts.” 

“And almost took the head off of a violin player, but I digress,” the older vampire from before murmured to her friend, the both of them chortling softly to themselves. 

“Oh, you know what you’ve done, darling,” Seonghwa tsked from across the room, taking slow, deliberate steps in your direction, his high-heeled shoes clacking lightly against the pristine floor, most of the other patrons stepping out of his way. “I have a question for you. Do you know what happens to pretty things that disobey their Masters?” 

You brought your hand up to lift off your masquerade mask just in time for Seonghwa to stand directly in front of you, his lean, elegant frame towering over yours. “I’m unaware of the answer, dearest. Do pray tell.” Your face twisted into something that could only be described as smug. Seonghwa wanted to wipe that expression off your face and turn it into something more worthwhile — flushed, contorted with a lovely mix of pain and pleasure, and painted in his cum.

“They get punished, my sweet. So, I suggest you hike up that lovely dress I bought you and get to running.” 

࿏࿏࿏

There was something so exhilarating about having the love of your life chase after you, knocking over furniture and pushing other vampires out of the way just to get his hands on you. You would look back occasionally, catching glimpses of the hazy blood-lust in Seonghwa’s eyes, resulting in a fresh wave of slick between your thighs. 

Somewhere along the line, you had ended up in the castle garden, your bare feet hitting the soft grass, having lost your heels during your chaotic trek there. Panting softly, your breath hitting the cold night air, you realized you were surrounded by chipping marble statues of vampires of the past, a maze of blood-red roses covered in thorns surrounding a sleek stone gazebo, and thousands of constellations sitting in the dark sky above you. 

“Caught you, little lamb…” you heard in a deep, gravelly voice, shivers making their way up your spine. Seonghwa took slow steps near you, finding it amusing how you trapped yourself in a corner, his entire being pulsing with sexually-charged aggression. “But you wanted this, didn’t you? You want me to have my way with you, don’t you, sweetheart?”  

Rather than replying verbally, you simply held up the front of your dress, showing off your plump, slicked-up cunt for his viewing pleasure, your lips twisted up into a perverted smile, lust practically emanating from your form. “What do you think, my love? Does my wet cunt give you any hints?” 

Before you knew it, Seonghwa had you pinned to the side of the gazebo, one hand on your shoulder to keep you still with his immense strength and the other underneath your hiked-up skirt, fucking you deep with two agile fingers, not concerned with the occasional passerby, some of them slowing down to witness the titillating sight of a vampire lord punishing his human counterpart.

“I can feel you squeezing around my fingers, sweet. Is my poor little lamb already falling apart for me?” he asked with faux pity against your neck, sucking your soft flesh into his mouth to leave a mark, piercing them lightly with his fangs. “Is it because anyone can come by and see the way I have my hand up your skirt and hear the pretty little moans that you’re making for your darling?”

“N-ooo, it’s because it’s you, Seonghwa,” you sighed out softly, a familiar heaviness filling your core until your legs went wobbly, moaning from the feeling of Seonghwa gulping down just enough of your life source to make you pleasantly dizzy, his fingers still slipping in and out of your leaking cunt.

“Mm, it’s a pity though. I wish Mr. Choi knew just how quick I can make your pretty cunt leak all these juices onto me,” he purred against your soft skin, slurping your arousal from his fingers before cupping his palm onto your hot cunt, lightly moving it over your clit, knowing he was pleasuring you just enough to make you squirm, but aware that your much-needed orgasm had faded away due to his control.

He brought his still dripping fingers up to your mouth, pleased that you obediently sucked your own slick off of them, his gaze flitting between your lips and love-struck eyes. “He’ll never see you like this. See the way you need me in every possible way I can have you…”

“It’s only for you to see, my love,” you replied lovingly, pressing your lips onto his, drawing Seonghwa into you like a moth to a blazing flame.

You shared a series of frenzied, heated kisses that consisted too much of tongue, teeth, and fangs, your hand slipping into Seonghwa’s loosened satin trousers to swiftly jerk him off, his abundant pre-cum squishing in between your closed fingers, your quick, unrelenting grip causing him to wobble a bit, the thick edges of his heeled shoes sinking further into the grass below. “Feels so good, doesn’t it, Hwa? You’re so hard for me, throbbing, leaking so much…”

“Fuck–I need you, darling, need you bare for me, need your pretty mouth around my cock,”Seonghwa groaned out onto your lips, nipping at it enough to get a small taste of iron on his own crimson stained ones. Without a word, he tore your dress from your body, pearls falling from your broken necklace and landing around your feet. You gasped. He clasped his hands around your corseted waist, bringing his face near your neck, his lips just barely touching your skin. “On your knees, my love.” 

You melted to the floor, reaching up to hold onto his hips, watching his cock spring out once his pants lowered past his v-line, eventually holding it in front of your drooling mouth. You studied him, your eyes traveling up his shiny, curved length to his pronounced pink head, sticking your tongue out to catch a drop of his pre-cum on your tongue. “It’s so pretty, Hwa…”

“I know it is, sweetheart. Now, open up,” he exhaled softly, slipping his slender fingers into your soft hair to clutch the sides of your head, plugging your mouth up with his thick cock. 

Seonghwa fucked your face so quickly, so sloppily, so desperately, he reached his end in a matter of minutes, bringing you down onto his cock until your nose pressed into his pelvis, feeling your throat contracting around him. “Fuck, you drive me mad, darling…I’m already about to cum….”

It was when he was able to smell the endless slick that dripped out of your needy cunt, that Seonghwa pulled out, rubbing his cockhead across your lips and smearing his pre-cum across your face, ruining the perfect state of your makeup. “You look so pretty, my love, but I know how to make you look even more divine for me…”

“Enlighten me, my dear,” you sighed lovingly, licking the warm saltiness from your lips.

“Watch closely. This is all for you, darling…” Seonghwa gazed down at you with his crimson, hooded eyes, his chest rising and lowering with shallow breaths, using his closed hand to milk his flushed cock, seemingly endless splashes of cum landing onto your face. “Mm, what do you think Mr. Choi would think of you now, little lamb? Think of your lovely face painted with my cum?” 

“He’d think I was a mess,” you mused, licking the bitter milkiness from your swollen lips, opening your mouth to take one last spurt of cum onto your tongue when Seonghwa moaned wantonly, his fingers squeezing near the pinkish tip. “He’d know I’m yours.” 

“My mess, my beautiful darling. Of course he’d know you’re mine. All mine,” Seonghwa sighed dreamily, lowering himself to his knees to pull you in for a deep kiss, your tongues and lips meeting with fervent need. 

“You think he’d enjoy watching you fuck me into ecstasy?” you asked in between heavy breaths and kisses, hooking your thighs around his bare waist, slipping your hands onto the bare skin of his chest past his loose blouse, your fingers grazing his nipples. 

“I’d take off his head, before I’d let him watch the way your cunt stretches open for me,” Seonghwa groaned, groping down your body, rubbing two fingers against your slippery folds, his fangs returning to your neck, this time indulging his instincts and slipping inside you, resulting in soft throes of pleasure from the both of you. “Speaking of, your little cunt needs my cock, doesn’t it? Is that why you’re so wet?” 

“Yes, please, I can’t stand being empty any longer, my love,” you whined to him, your squelching cunt already beginning to clench around his thrusting fingers, wishing his cock was filling you up instead. 

“You won’t be able to cum with just my fingers, will you, darling? Because your lovely body is only accustomed to my cock, isn’t it? Made for it, hm?” Seonghwa continued to tease you with his words, curling his digits inside you, resulting in increasingly heavy moans from his one and only, encouraging him to fuck you faster with them. “Fuck, you’re clenching so hard around me, darling. You’re so good for me…”

“Oh–my god, so close…” 

“Yeah? You want to spill your cum all over me, Y/N? Make a mess of me?” Seonghwa encouraged breathily, his forehead pressed to yours, pressing his lips against yours in between moans. 

“Y–esss…” 

Just as you were about to cum, you were suddenly filled with a devastatingly empty feeling, realizing he had pulled his fingers out and brought them to his mouth, sucking your vast amounts of slick off of them. “N-no, please, Seonghwa, I want to cum…!”

“You’ll have to cum on my cock, sweetheart. Now, be good and take it,” he replied softly, his voice devoid of pity, the ridged edge of his cock hooking onto your clit and making you jolt, before he slipped inside you inch by inch, sending you back into a pleasurable fog. “I’ll breed you until you’re full for me.” 

“So full, I’m so full, darling.” You hooked your arms around his neck, holding him impossibly close, his lips already attached to your neck again, shuddering against him as he drank down your life-source, his cock offering your cunt a delicious stretch each time he pounded into you. “So good, Hwa, it feels so good…” 

“Because we were made for each other, my love, our souls always intertwined, forever, you’ll always be mine,” Seonghwa reminded you in between pants and soft moans, his raven hair already plastered to his forehead with sweat, love and admiration seeping its way through his lust-struck gaze, kneading his hands into your thighs, your warm, sopping-wet cunt enveloping his cock so tightly, he couldn’t keep himself from unloading wave after wave of his hot cum inside you, so deeply it reached your womb. “Fuck, you’re milking my cock, darling, just take it all, take it all for me…”

You couldn’t say anything, only letting out a near soundless whine, clutching the back of Seonghwa’s head, never breaking eye contact as you experienced what could only be described as pure bliss, your bodies and hearts melting together. “I love you, Seonghwa, so much,” you finally got out, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I love you too, Y/N, more than you’ll ever know,” he replied just as softly, carefully cupping your heated face with his cold hands, like he was afraid you would shatter into a thousand pieces and fall away from his grasp. Seonghwa was completely flushed, his long raven hair now a mess, sticking to his sweaty face, his plush lips a deep red. “Now do you see what you do to me, darling?”

You nuzzled into him, your heart beating against his quiet one, the cool night breeze gracing your warm, joined skin, knowing you wouldn’t have it any other way. “I think I have an idea.”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

To Vex A Viscount (of seas and torment entry)

based on this ask ♡

— regency era au

summary: simply nothing more could be required of a perfect evening when invited to a masquerade with the pleasure of vexing an easily irritable viscount.

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

warnings: none (though please do feel free to inform me if you find any!)

of seas and torment, make do (of seas and torment entry)

⚔°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You thank the gods for the salvation the mask wrapped around your face offers you. It will not do well if the other gossip-mongers see your distaste for the evening's festivities; they'd call you insolent, and you simply couldn't have that if you wished to find a husband.

Truly, you'd prefer readying yourself for a long night of restful slumber than being forced to simper and be delightful in the presence of the ton.

"Lady Jackson." You turn at the sound of your name, the voice all too familiar for you to mistake his identity even with the elaborate mask of golden feathers hiding his features.

"Lord Castellan." You acknowledge the viscount with a pleasant tone, though you were well-aware that the niceties shared between the both of you were merely for show. "Good evening."

"I wasn't expecting your presence tonight." Luke continues, speaking as he moves to stand closer to you. You take a deliberate step away from him, weary of anyone who might get the wrong idea.

"Neither was I." You answer truthfully. "But my mama and brother insisted on our attendance."

He looks down at you in amusement. "I do hope the soiree is to your liking."

"Of course." You nod, taking a sip from the beverage cradled in between your gloved fingers. "Lady Castellan always throws such magnificent balls."

You look for his mother amidst the crowds, her grin wide and welcoming as she conversed with your own.

Luke hums. "It was my idea to make it a masquerade. I hear it's quite fashionable in Italy."

"Ah, that must explain its banality." You twist your mouth. It was definitely a rude response, but Luke, at least once in the years you've known him, has never been offended by your brazen remarks. He took all of them in good humor.

He snorts. "I think it's rather romantic."

"And what do you know of romance, my lord?" You turn to him, eyes glinting in the candlelight as you begin to tease him. "Do enlighten me. You seem to be quite well-versed on the topic now that you've returned from your travels. I assume the continent must have been good to the matters of your heart."

He glances down at you from his peripheral. "It was. Very much, actually."

You raise an eyebrow, an invitation (or provocation) for him to speak more. He doesn't elaborate further.

You turn your attention elsewhere instead, watching as several young ladies are led onto the dance floor by the gentleman. The first few notes of a quadrille hum through the air.

"May I write my name on your dance card?" He asks after a moment, his eyes intently looking at the paper that dangled from a ribbon around your wrist.

You looked up at him, eyes wide in surprise. "Me?"

"Surely, you will not have me dance with Percy?" He responds with pursed lips. His hand rises to pinch your card in between his fingers. He raises his brow for confirmation.

Your eyes narrow instantly. Your tone is near accusatory when you voice your confusion. "Why, may I ask, should you wish to dance with me?"

"Must I need a reason to?" He counters.

"Seeing as we've been at each other's throats throughout the entire season, I would assume so, yes." You nod your head. He was acting out of sorts, and it was terribly bothersome. Ever since he returned from abroad, there has been an evident shift in his attitude, more so in his treatment of you. "I believe I am owed an explanation."

You clear your throat, adding: "Perhaps you've taken a sip too many of your whiskey."

"Shall I breathe in your face to prove my sobriety?" Luke remarks dryly. "Indulge me for old times' sake. We learned to dance together, after all."

Memories of a sweltering july tucked in your family's country home came in a vague recollection— guests invited over to stay for a short retreat, taking daily swims in the bay, relaxing underneath a canopy of trees, munching on more sweets tinted blue than you could ever consume again, and a disgruntled gentleman teaching (or at least attempting to) you and Luke the beginning sequences of a routine.

He stands with an arm against his hip, his gaze neutral but his fidgeting made you aware of his impatience. You squinted your eyes as if in thought, aiming to irk him further.

"Vexing woman," He mutters underneath his breath as he grabs the drinking glass from your hold and gingerly places it on top of a cabinet. He takes your hand in his and leads you to the dancefloor just as a waltz is announced.

"Another gentleman's name could have been written on my card." You chastise him. He stretches your clasped hands to the side, his other hand moving to rest at your waist. Though you've not danced with him in a long time, your other hand immediately lays on his shoulder. Both of your feet move in tandem, limbs moving gracefully without much thought.

"I highly doubt it. You've been keeping to yourself the entire evening." He sniffs to dismiss your point. "I must admit, I found it difficult to discern where you ended and the wallpaper began."

You step on his foot. He groans. You smile.

He guides you through practiced circles around the dance floor, never missing a step or beat. His eyes bore into yours, a deep brown that reminded you of chocolate ganache and dancing flames, of warm summers and breezy evenings, of playful goading and a mutual respect, of innocence and an imperciptible heat you've not paid any mind too up until his return.

"You look very lovely." He says abruptly, soft like a whisper; almost as if he had no intention of speaking the thought aloud.

"What?" You reply in disbelief.

"Unfortunate that such a pretty face should belong to a woman with such faulty hearing." He sighs mockingly, murmuring under his breath but loud enough for you to hear. You attempt to step on his foot again, but he moves just in time with an omniscient grin. He repeats his words with more clarity. "I said you look very lovely."

"I..." You struggle for a response. You avert your gaze, blushing. "Thank you."

The music slowly comes to an end and as you separate to bow, he seizes your hand once more. He places a gentle kiss on the back of your glove before turning your palm. His eyes lock on yours as he bends down to kiss your wrist, his lips meeting your pulse. You feel your heartbeat become more erratic with each moment his gaze lingers.

"Well done, sister." Percy claps his hands from behind you. Luke stands straighter, though his lotions are more fluid. "This is the first time I've seen you dance without tripping on your own feet."

"Oh, shut up." You huff, pushing him back into the crowd. Luke follows behind you with a chuckle, his fingers dancing with the ribbon dangling at the back of your frock.

taglist: @ryujinraven (SORRY POOKIE IT SLIPPED MY MIND)

[diejager]

I saw something about Victorian COD so hear me out-

Victorian Price in the fanciest suit

I'm sorry but that man would be so hooooooooooot as a Victorian gentleman, it fits his vibe

p.s. Happy 2024!!!!!!!

I got to this 3 months later… Happy belated new year 😅

Cw: flirting? Price being a gentleman, older man/younger woman, established relationship, tell me if I missed any.

Your father’s business parties had always been boring, they were a chore for you to keep a perfect facade to the public, the frail yet strong lady of the house, donned in ridiculously frilly dresses and thighs corsets. Your mother had fussed over it your entire life, her rough fingers, brought from her commoner background, had made her harsher in every manner to keep her title, for you to keep yours as a noble born into a world of riches. But the upkeep of it was useless when you had no part in it, forced to play a part in something you had no right to be a part of. 

Granted, you had your reservation, understanding that being on the same side as your father had it’s perks, the power his title - soon to be passed down to your older brother once your father passed - and his money. You didn’t necessarily depend on it wholly, you might live in his home, eat from his cooks and call for the maids and butlers he employed, but you had your studio away from home, somewhere in the city where you painted under natural light and sold portraits to people who paid you for a commission. 

It wasn’t as grand as being a merchant, to sell the luxuries most nobles sought - gems, fabrics, gold and silver - but it built you connections, your work passed from mouth to ear, one noble at a time, and one town at a time. You had your clientele and your father had his, you had an image to keep for something you worked so hard for, but to invest an equal amount of face and finesse in a snobbish party was draining. Fortunately, a few of your father’s work affiliates were regular clients at your little studio, sending letters to you months in advance to organise dates for you to paint them, it varied between one and a few months.

Your favourite was a British merchant company, lead by one bear of a man that you knew well, managed by three - a kind-hearted brit with beautiful skin, a boisterous Scot with his unusual haircut, and a broad and rugged man who hid his identity under a fearsome mask - other you were well-acquainted with and advised by a strong headed woman too advanced for your era. John Price was his name, a man a decade older than you, but treated you kinder than any man had before him, a gentleman in a beautiful suit and slacks, a red shirt and waxed shoes. He - coincidentally - matched your attire, your frilly, red chemise with a high and bowed collar, the sleeves long and rumpled in waves of red silk, waist high pants that hugged your body the same way your mother’s corset hugged her form and slick shoes that shone under the high chandeliers. 

“You seem bored, love,” his soft and baritone voice never failed to make you shudder, his hand on your back a reminder than he was with you.

He was always the gentleman, a man who worked his way to nobility, gaining a title and land through blood, sweat and tears. He was known for his trades, selling and shipping a large variety of items that some considered exotic simply because nobles hated interacting with foreigners, a kind of bred racism and xenophobia through generations to fear any uprising from their colonies and other countries. He was as broad as his company was known, every core member of it respected for climbing the echelon of society through hard work. Some purebred nobles might hate him for taking a title without being born into it, but none could object his craft, like an artist couldn’t do hate their canvas. 

“There isn’t much to do, is there, John?” You nodded towards your father, knowing that he was observant enough to see the slightest of movement, “My father is… he loves bathing in luxury, in the popularity his name brings.”

He hummed, a low rumble from his throat, his eyes narrowed almost threateningly, but you knew the amused gleam in his eyes. You had years to get to know him, once an occasional client - a man who stumbled into your studio wanting to let a newly risen artist a chance to paint him, admiring your work for the smooth and confident strokes - who brought his art trade to you, now a trusted friend, someone you were blasphemously closed too for someone your age. 

Your friendship hadn’t lasted long, the constant coaching from Kyle and Johnny, the silent push from Simon and the proud smile from Kate had both of you meeting halfway, throwing you into his open arms and fooling around at the back of your studio until John could take you away to marry.Eloping and always sounded interesting, you weren’t needed at home, your father had an heir and your mother had your younger sister to worry about.

“He flaunts it foolishly, yes,” he agreed, raising the cup to his lips, tipping it until the champagne flowed down the glass rim, “But we have a contract, one I intend to uphold until he complete his end of it. And I met you.”

He turned to you, a tender smile hidden under his beard, his stormy blues softening as he peered down at you, adoration gleaming in his eyes. You wished you could kiss him, to grip him by the collar and pull him down to press your lips against his course ones, to kiss him deeply and show him the love you felt for him. 

“I would, love, but we’re in public,” had you spoken out loud? It seemed you did if John answered you, his chuckles shaking his shoulders, “Would you come home with me once I’ve finished my business?”

“Of course, John.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[chenlesfavorite]

[TEASER] love in the dark. lee haechan

— summary : you love haechan, you truly do, you wish to be with him till death do you part though your families aren't fond of each other and he can't officially court you, your meetings are always secret. but everything becomes complicated once your parents tell you that you're promised to a complete stranger.

— pairing : haechan x fem!reader

— genre : angst, forbidden romance, secret relationship, arranged marriage

— extra : regency era, oneshot/imagine, open ending

— author's note : it's my birthday and I promised I would upload an imagine... didn't say if it was gonna be the entire thing tho so here's a little teaser for it <3 the full imagine will be released once I'm back from my break :)

— teaser word count : 851 (final w.c will have around 3-4k)

reminder that this is pure fiction and not an actual depiction of how they act.

The ballroom is glittering under the golden shine of the grand chandelier hanging above, the violinists playing a melody fitting for the current waltz unraveling. Gowns twirling around as the gentlemen lead their ladies with grace.

Amidst the setting, you feel out of place, your heart weighing you down with the secrets you keep inside it. Your feet are moving along the rhythm of the waltz, but you're buried inside the garden in your mind.

Your eyes are drawn to the figure standing in the corner of the ballroom, his fingers delicately wrapping around the glass filled with the finest wine as his eyes that know your secret follow your every step.

Though you have not exchanged any words with him the entire evening, the tension was present and you know who the figure is. One might say you know him like you know the back of your hand.

The young gentleman you’re dancing with notices your breathing switching to a heavier pace, making your distracted self quite visible. “Lady L/N, are you feeling well?” The gentleman could not resist but ask, his expression carrying concern.

“Ah, I’m well. I just seem to be a little out of it as I’ve been on my feet all evening, pardon me.” You reply, your lips curling up into a smile as you do not wish to worry the gentleman.

Putting on a quick smile is no hard work for you, after all, you have learned the practice of masking your true feelings and intentions. But one person could see through that very easily and he was still watching you from the corner.

As the waltz draws to a close, the figure watching you makes his leave by going up the stairs. You are more than sure he’s going to the balcony. You politely curtsy to the gentleman who just danced with you and you excuse yourself from the ballroom floor, slipping through the sea of people.

At last, you reach the balcony, the cool breeze of the night hitting you and of course, your guess is right. He is here.

You did not think he would come tonight, especially considering his family did not receive an invitation to the ball due to your families not being fond of one another. But alas, that was stupid of you to even ponder about, after all, wherever you are, he will be there too.

“You should not be here, Haechan.” You say in a quiet tone, approaching him with a voice that carries the slightest anger in it, mixed with worry. “And yet,” He steps closer to you. “Here I am.” That cocky smirk appearing on his face, that smirk that just makes you want to hit him.

“You did not receive an invitation!” You exclaim, though by the looks of it, Haechan just did not seem to mind nor care, this is just a game to him. A game that he loves to play. “You think too little of me if you believe an invitation could keep me from you.” He replies, his voice a soft murmur. The moonlight cast a glow over him and his eyes showed a glimmer of mischief.

You step back, the railing of the balcony pressing against your back— your breath catching in your throat. “Haechan, if anyone were to see us— if they were to know you are here—”

Your words are cut off and a light gasp escapes your lips as he holds onto the railing, trapping you in between his arms. Your eyes lock onto his, his stare sending a shiver down your spine. “Let them see, let them know,” He whispers in your ear, his low tone sounding alluring.

“I care not for their gossip, nor for the rules of society. I care only for you.” Haechan leaves those words lingering in your mind as he starts to look directly at you. You narrow your eyes, a light scoff coming from you despite the red color rushing to your cheeks. “You think this is just some grand jest, don’t you? Do you have any clue of what you risk— what we risk?”

Haechan lets out a chuckle, his breath warm against your cheek. “Risk? I risk nothing. It is you who risks everything.” He pauses before continuing. “Your reputation, your family’s pride, their plans for your future... and yet,” His voice softens. “Here you are.”

Your heart starts to pound heavily in your chest, the anger in you battling with something deeper that was inside of you, something so dangerous. You search his face for any signs of seriousness behind that smug facade of his.

You lightly push him away as you clear your voice. “I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have followed you.” You say, turning away from him as you start to head for the doors of the balcony.

“But you did, you smile and dance for the others but you always come back to me because you know your heart belongs to me.” His voice fades away as you rush back inside the manor, the heat becoming very evident on your face.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

[the-forbidden-pookie]

Unknown motives

Tw: SFW, written with a fem reader in mind, attempt at comedy, fluff with a dash of something else, slight use of profanity, reader is short for plot reasons.

Pairing: Anton Ivanov x reader

#Free Palestine🇵🇸

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sorry," the large man says as he approaches you "I got held up by this strange guy asking if I wanted to play cards or something on my way here... Hm? You haven't started interviewing our president yet, have you? Don't forget to lower the mic stand a bit."

You blink up at him in surprise, and suppress an eye roll. You can't help it, everything about him was giving... the same vibe you see in the old capital era movies, the frat boy types. Still, you respond cordially enough "Huh? Oh you mean the reporter lady from earlier? No she left already, I'm the new part timer." You say confidently, deciding you'll end this conversation quickly if you looked sufficiently assertive. The work site was plenty noisy too, surely he'll get annoyed from talking out here soon enough.

The man's hand was on its way to the back of his head, his eyes trained away from you before he halts and looks back "A new part timer? Who the hell hired you?"

"I hired myself." You say simply.

"Ha, you hired yourself? Really now? And who made you think you were qualified enough to work here?"

You don't bother giving your real reasons "The field of construction calls for me." Is what you say instead.

"Calls for you, huh?" To your surprise , the man takes your words seriously, and you notice a name tag that introduces him as Senior Staff and On Site Project Manager Anton Ivanov. Wow, what a mouthful, no wonder he seems to know who exactly does and doesn't work here.

"You look like a runt... Can you handle the job? Do you even know how to tell apart a Gauging trowel from a Margin trowel?"

You blink owlishly back at him, startled out of your thoughts "A what now?"

"Exactly my point! How about I test you, then? First, go get me a torque wrench."

"Ahaha" you laugh awkwardly "Uh yup! I totally know what that is!" Why is there no connection in this place? I need to Google this! You panic internally.

"Oh really? Well then go get one. It's right by the tool box in the west warehouse." He points at said building "I'll be waiting here."

You quickly turn away before he sees your expression descend into panic "Mhm, be right back boss man!"

"Hah, what's with that look?... Wait... Hey! Come back here!"

You ignore him and use your small frame to your advantage and easily weave through construction workers left and right, most of them admittedly much bigger than you. Still, you disappear into the crowd and easily loose anyone trying to stop you. Once you make it to the warehouse, you go ask someone on duty about the tool, and find a bear gentleman squinting at a clipboard.

"Excuse me sir." You interrupt politely "The project manager sent me to grab a tool for him, can you tell me where-" you pause. What did he call it again? You stare at the fellow in front of you as he stares back. Once it became apparent you weren't going to finish the sentence any time soon, he points at a collection of crates in one section of the warehouse

"I'm busy so help yourself kid." He says, then leaves before you can correct him about you not being a kid.

Welp.

You go look though the crates, hoping any of them would be marked or named, and while some of them are, most of those are in Russian.

You don't speak Russian.

You sigh, and decide nothing will get done if you keep standing here, so you grab a random heavy tool, and lug it back to Anton, who surprisingly did wait for you where he said he would.

"I'm back! Did you miss me?" You pant from the exertion, trying to hide the toll this is taking on you with jest "Is- is this it?"

Anton looks dumbfounded for a moment before speaking "...That's a welder's mask, kid. The kind bear Thirens use."

You look down "So that's what the glass part is for... Hey I'm not a kid! You're just way too tall!"

Anton smirks, amused with your response "You're not a kid, huh? Then how old are you, shorty?"

You look away. "Hmph. You should never ask a lady about her age! It's improper!" You dodge the question. You may be an adult, but there's a non zero chance that once you show him your ID he thinks you're presenting him with a fake one and kick you out immediately. You'd rather not give him the chance. "So how do I go about properly signing up to join Belobog Heavy Industries anyway?"

Anton chuckles, seemingly getting a kick out of this "Ha! It's funny that a shorty like you can call herself a lady. You're barely at half my height. Anyways, if you wanna work here, I'll have to assess your experience and qualifications first."

You are certainly not looking forward to that.

"... Isn't there someone else that can do that...? Maybe someone I don't have to crane my neck all the way up just to look at their face?" You sweat drop.

Anton laughs, thoroughly enjoying this situation "Nope, not a chance. You're stuck with me, shorty. Now, quit complaining and tell me what you can do with those tiny arms of yours."

You crouch down and grab a random rock, then stack a few more on top of it. Once done you stand back up and point at your creation. "Construction...?"

Anton raises an eyebrow, looking the most baffled you've seen him all day, and that's saying something. He stares at your attempt before he lets out a disbelieving laugh "Construction? You call that... whatever it is, construction? I'm not sure if I should be impressed, concerned, or just downright baffled."

You don't hesitate "Which one's more likely to get me hired?"

"Anton crosses his arms, looking you up and down as he seriously consideres your question. His earnestness is starting to get to you.

"Hm, I suppose I'd be impressed, because it takes a lot of audacity to call that thing construction. So I'm going to give you a chance."

He grins slightly.

"Spend the day around the site today but don't go past any yellow lines without permission. If you still want to join us afterwards, come find me and my bro at the end of the day at my office. We'll discuss your new position in the company then, shorty."

You can't help it, caught off guard by his genuine offer, you let out a huge, surprised smile, no sarcasm or barbs in sight "Wait really?!"

You can vaguely tell Anton is taken aback by your response, but he quickly covers it up with a smirk "Of course. It'd be fun to have someone so short around here to tease, it's not like I can mess with the president after all." He says jokingly.

At your resulting glare, he chuckles and ruffles your hair with his large hand.

For a second, you feel dumbfounded at the overly familiar act, but you quickly regain your composure and push his hand away "Sorry head pats are reserved for friendship level 8 or higher."

"Oh? 8 or higher, huh? That's a pretty high number. I guess I'll have to work my way up to earn the privelage then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the work day comes to a close, you make your way to Anton's office, directed by the scowling red head girl that often came to check on you throughout the day. She awkwardly waves off your genuine thanks.

I guess everyone here looks scary but is actually nice? You wonder.

"Hey there, shorty." Anton perks up from his slumped position as he sees you come in. You notice his desk and seat appear comically small when compared to his size, it doesn't help that the office room is rather cramped. "Did you have a fun day of "construction" today?"

You sigh "I tried to help, but everyone kept telling me I'd just get in the way." You say as you unceremoniously drop in a guest chair by his wooden desk "Please hurry up and give me an official position at the company."

Anton's smirk softens as he sees your dejected expression.

"Heh, I can see you really want to fit in here, huh? My bro and I really appreciate that kind of spirit. Alright, I'll do you a favor and give you an official position."

He seems to think for a moment before speaking "How about you become the company's official short stack? We do lack a mascot."

Your eye twitches involuntarily "My dude you are giving my fist an erection. Are you trying to get socked in the face?"

Anton doubles over his desk laughing, a full body laugh with his shoulders shaking and his mouth gasping for air. Well it was a very good line wasn't it? You inwardly give yourself a pat on the back for causing that reaction. Finally when the bursts of laughter subside and he can actually breathe again, the taller male leans down and gets close to your face with his signature smirk on.

"Ha! I'd like to see you try. Besides, you're too short to land a proper punch, anyway."

Anton's smirk fades into a more serious expression this time as he considers your question. He taps his chin in thought.

You deadpan. Bro cannot be acting all nonchalant after he almost went into cardiac arrest from your joke "Back on topic," you say impatiently "any real positions I can fill up?"

He looks you up and down for what feels like the millionth time this day, before speaking "If I'm being honest, the only jobs you could fit would probably be serving food at the cafeteria or maybe assisting in office work, hardly something that would feel like construction work."

"Hmm, let's see..."

You try not to pout "But just today I saw a girl shorter and definitely younger then me, she was working hands on and-"

"The president," Anton interrupts "has many years of experience, she also may not look it to your untrained eyes but she has a lot of practical muscles that make up for her size disadvantage."

You blanch That was the President?! I'd been calling her girlie-pop all day! I think I even called her pookie once?!

Suddenly, all the strange looks the staff were throwing you throughout the day made a lot more sense.

"That said..." Anton brings you back out of your thoughts "How about we start you off as an assistant? I'll have you work under me, and I'll show you the ropes around here, it would also count as a training period. If you prove yourself competent, I'll consider promoting you to an official position."

Your eyes gain a shine to them at the offer he went of his way to give, and you feel a bit remorseful at all the attitude you've been giving him "Wait, wouldn't that be troublesome for you?"

Anton shrugs lightly, that smirk returning to his face.

"Troublesome? Nah, I'd get a kick out of having a pipsqueak like you following me around. And who knows, maybe you can learn a thing or two from a professional like me." He says, pointing proudly at his chest.

You deadpan yet again. "I take back the good thoughts I started having of you, what was I thinking?" You tell him as you shake your head in mock despair.

Anton laughs at your blunt response, clearly enjoying the banter. "Ha! There's Shorty's short temper kicking in again. Come on, don't be so uptight . I'm just messin' with ya."

He grins widely, clearly finding this whole situation amusing. He then playfully ruffles your hair with his hand.

You push his hand away again "My head isn't for patting unless you're level 8 friendship I said!"

Anton laughs good naturedly, and obediently removes his hand.

"Ha! Still going on about that friendship level thing? Fine, I'll keep my hands to myself for now. But just know, I have plenty of other ways to bother you, Shorty."

"I've known you for only one day and yet I don't doubt that one bit."

Anton crosses his arms and leans against the nearby wall, looking down at you.

Still, you can't resist messing with him right back, so you get up and walk away "Nevermind I'll go see if the convenience store down the street is still hiring-"

"Oh, you have no idea. Stick around, shorty, and you'll see what I mean. You haven't experienced true torment yet." His voice has a teasing quality to it and you can tell he puts extra care in making that obvious to compensate for his naturally intimidating size and face.

Anton quickly scrambles off the wall and grabs your arm, halting your retreat "Oh no you don't. You're not getting out of this that easily." He smirks, as if he wasn't floundering less then a second ago. His grip on your arm is gentle yet unrelenting "You're stuck with me, Shorty. You already accepted the job as my assistant, remember? You can't back out now."

You sigh dramatically, and hear as Anton laughs at your theatrics. You then remember the two of you haven't properly introduced yourselves to each other yet "I guess I have to be a woman of my word." You say in mock reluctance as he lets go of your arm "It's a little late, but my name is Y/n by the way, L/n Y/n. What's yours?"

His smirk slowly fades into a genuine smile "Oh, we never did properly introduce ourselves, huh? Hah, guess we were so busy bickering we forgot about the formalities." He extends his hand for a handshake "Name's Anton Ivanov. Remember that, ok Shorty?"

You grasp his hand, his grip strong and sturdy "Like I said, my name's Y/n. Since we're on the more serious topics, is there a contract I need to sign or am I in a trial period for now?"

Anton shakes your hand gently before responding, seemingly very aware of how much bigger his hand is as it is engulfs yours. If you didn't know better you'd think he's nervous to accidentally hurt you. "Yeah trial period's a fitting name, and no contract signings just yet. We'll see how you do working under me before we worry about paperwork. So, Shorty, are you ready to get started as my assistant?"

"How early does the work day start here?" You ask, forcefully dragging your eyes away after they started staring at his chest a bit too long. You can't help it tho! It's more comfortable for your neck to stare at that region!

Anton scratches his chin thoughtfully, considering your question and blissfully unaware of your internal turmoil.

"Hmm, work usually starts around 6 in the morning. We like to get an early start here at Belobog. Why do you ask?"

You gulp "Wow, bright and early with the sunrise huh?"

Anton valiantly tries to suppress a chuckle at your reaction. He fails, but you suppose it's the effort that counts.

"Yep, bright and early. We don't like to waste time around here. And hey, don't worry about adjusting to the early hours, you'll get used to it soon enough, shorty."

"I sure hope so." You sweat drop, then your eyes drift to the arm sized device strapped to his arm. "Is that the main tool you use?" You motion with your chin towards the machine he still has strapped to his arm despite the work day being already over.

Anton follows your gaze, and he brightens considerably at your question. "This is my bro, it's a pile driver." He says seriously, and it doesn't take long to realize he's not joking.

He grins, looking down at his arm-mounted weapon affectionately "My bro and I go way back, and it got my back in both work and combat." He says proudly.

"I guess you could say it is, in a way, like family. It's been with me through a lot."

He pats the pile driver, a fond look in his eyes.

Your eyes soften "Well, can't wait to see you and your bro in action once I officially start!" You exclaim, mentally cataloguing the pile driver as Anton's Emotional Support Companion in you head.

"So, I hear Belobog Industries has dorms for all staff members, are newbies like me included or do I need to find my own lodgings around here?" You change the subject, because while you didn't mind hearing more about Anton and getting to know him better, you did still have an objectif in coming here "I wanna know if I'll need to make moving arrangement soon."

Anton's grin widens at your enthusiasm and what he reads as genuine interest in the company.

"Ha! That eager to get in on the action, huh?" he guesses "You're going to fit right in here."

He pats your head lightly, and you're starting to understand it's meant to be a playful gesture rather than a condescending or even teasing one.

"And don't worry about lodging. We provide dorms for all staff members, including newbies like you. You don't need to worry about finding a place to stay."

"Well that's convenient," you say as you bat his arm away, almost by reflex now "I guess I better go get my stuff sorted by tomorrow then." You say as you shift to get going, before a loud bang outside Anton's office door startles you both, and a tall woman comes barreling in.

"Anton!" She all but shouts "I got it! I cracked the code uncle Khors left behind!"

Next to you, Anton is initially startled by the sudden entrance, but he soon regains his composure. He throws a look at you, as if making sure you're not scared off by the taller woman's antics, then turns back to her, his face a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

"Grace? You cracked the code? That's great, but we need to tell the president before you -"

But this Grace person is no longer listening, as her attention is now in on you "Huh, I didn't know it was bring your kid to work day? Wait who's kid is this?"

You deadpan "For the last time. I'm an adult."

At your claim, she looks you up and down and it's quite obvious she doesn't believe you. "A highschooler maybe." She murmurs under her breath.

Anton quickly interjects before she can say more, and you can hear the hint of annoyance in his voice as he speaks "Grace, Y/n's not a high schooler..."

You finally sigh and take out your ID card, at least Anton seemed to believe you so you didn't think he'd take it for a fake ID.

"Oh you poor thing!" The woman says after thoroughly comparing your face to the image on the card "who malnourished you?"

"I'm not malnourished." You say with a tired sigh, but it's not like you can explain your situation, so you don't think you come off as very believable.

Anton gives Grace a sarcastic look as she tries to save her mistake. He rolls his eyes, but a small smile still forms on his face.

"Well!" Grace says "Whatever you two are discussing can wait, let's get her to the cafeteria before it closes, someone is in desperate need of a big meal-" At Anton's warning look, Grace amends "Uhh that person being Anton! A bear sized fellow like him definitely needs to eat lots!"

"Nice save there, Grace. Real subtle."

I don't know what these two's relationship is, but they seem close. You wonder internally.

And as Anton glances at you, it seems he misreads your pondering expression as one of doubt about yourself because he says: "Don't you worry, Shorty. You're fine. I've met actual malnourished people, and trust me, you're in the clear."

...why is he such a green flag?! You have to admit to yourself it'd be quite the shame if he is dating Grace.

"But it's true that we're all hungry" Anton continues while nodding "Grace is right, and let me tell you, the cafeteria food here is really good. I wouldn't want you to miss out on it, shorty."

You nod back, liking the idea "Alrighty then, please lead the way." You go for a polite voice but at Grace's giggle you wonder if you over did it.

Anton grins and gestures for both of you to follow him.

"Aight, I'll show you the way to the cafeteria."

He starts walking and motions for you and Grace to fall in step beside him.

Grace starts telling you both all about the mysterious code the former president of Belobog Industries had left behind, and while fairly sure the information should remain confidential, it wasn't like you could stop the woman on her tirade, you notice Anton doesn't even try.

Then again, they probably think I haven't a single clue of what she's talking about.

As the three of you near what you assume is the cafeteria, Grace stops dead in her tracks. "Oh gosh I'm so sorry, I know I was the one that suggested coming here but I just got an alert and I need to go back and check on my children!" Grace exclaims showing a notification with a warning symbol for an icon. By children, you figure she's talking about machines or software code.

Anton hardly looks surprised. He shakes his head "Hah, typical Grace. Don't worry about it, we can grab food ourselves. You go take care of your babies."

Anton pats her on the shoulder reassuringly "Just make sure to eat something later, okay?"

Grace nods, and you expect her to hurry off towards her workstation but instead she moves to your side and whispers in your ear "My intuition tells me you're a good person, so good luck, I'm rooting for you!" And as you blink in surprise, the woman is already rushing off. You realize that at some point you'd made the judgement she was wholly focused on her mechanic creations and had little attention to her surroundings, but that had to be untrue. She read the situation in seconds and seems to be setting you two up on a date of sorts.

Anton on the other hand watched the entire exchange with one eyebrow raised.

As Grace runs off towards her creations, he turns back to you with a slightly quizzical look.

"What'd she whisper to you?"

You give him a sly smile "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Anton gives you a playful glare in return and crosses his arms "Oh, now you're just teasing me. Come on, spill the beans Shorty. Let me in on the secret."

You skip ahead and push the cafeteria double doors open "Oh wow this place smells great, it's suddenly making me feel so hungry! We better get some food quick!"

Behind you, you hear the taller male let out a hearty chuckle at your unsubtle change of topic "A convenient case of selective hearing, huh? Okay, I'll let it slide for now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After filling your trays with food the two of you choose somewhere to sit, and with the cafeteria mostly empty it was like you had the whole place to yourselves.

Time to satisfy our empty stomachs.

Or so you thought.

You barely get to sit down before Anton gets a call, and he immediately gets up to take it. You wonder for a few seconds if it would be rude or not to start eating without him, however the call doesn't take that long.

"Sorry about that." Anton says, but when you look up to face him it's like looking at a different person. His attention is still on his phone and the set of his shoulders is stiff, but most of all, his smile is nowhere to be found "Something came up, you can start without me and uh- I'll be right back."

He's gone before you can get a word in edgewise.

Well, now you've been subjected to the inconvenience of eating alone in a cafeteria. At least it's mostly empty. You take exactly two bites of your delicious burger (it seems he was right about the food in this place) before you're interrupted, by Grace again this time.

"Hey! You're Anton's girlfriend!"

You almost choke-

"Where did he go- I think I messed up and I need his help before Sweet Pea finds out!"

Wow... Where do I even start with this one...

You decide to go with the basics "I'm not his girlfriend. I don't know someone called him away I think. Why are you afraid of a vegetable finding out about your mistake...?"

"So he's not here? Oh no." The woman turns on her heel and leaves.

You don't hesitate and follow after her, you'd rather not have to sit alone in a cafeteria, you just hope no one will put away your food while you're gone.

The real problem tho, is how much taller and faster she was. By the time you make it to the double doors you have no clue which direction she went in.

I think she went this way last time?

You pick a direction and at some point the smoke alarms start beeping in the halls, and you hear footsteps somewhere in the building rushing to and fro. Sure enough, you find yourself in a technician's lab at the end of the route. The only problem is, Grace is not here.

You walk in.

It doesn't take long to figure out what was causing a commotion, as the smoke alarm was beeping on and off above a smoking machine component. You step closer and take a look.

Hmm I'm not familiar with this model, but...

Your head turns towards the computer setup on the desk, warning and error messages flashing on the monitor. You sit down and crack your knuckles.

Let's give this a go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anton comes back to the cafeteria, finding you right where he left you.

"Heyo Shorty, sorry that took a while, wha- you're not eating yet?"

"Ah- I nibbled at the burger a bit, but I didn't wanna start without you so..." You lie smoothly.

"What the- I told you you could start," Anton says plopping into his seat "now I feel bad for making you wait so long." He says with a- is that a kicked puppy face? You didn't even know it was possible on him.

You instantly start feeling bad "Oh no worries, I didn't even feel the time pass!" I was fairly occupied anyways "Oh! I heard a lot of noise out there, what was going on?" You smoothly switch subjects, grabbing a hold of your burger and taking a bite.

"Hn? Oh yeah, the smoke alarm was ringing in multiple branches but there wasn't a fire in any of them, the system was pranking us I guess." He stabs his steak and starts cutting it "I tried to go back right after but Grace came to find me cuz something was acting up, so I go on a detour to her lab, we got there and whatever she needed a hand with just righted itself so I hurried back." He takes a bite of meet and waits till he's swallowed it to continue "You sure I didn't take too long?"

You smile "Really it's fine, it wasn't that long at all."

For the first seven to ten minutes of you two sitting together again, you both give your undivided attention to your food filled trays. Finally, after devouring an entire burger you break the silence "I'm gonna be honest with you, Anton, I had you all wrong when I first saw you this morning." You say between mouthfuls of fries, keeping one hand in front of your mouth whenever there's food in it and you need to talk.

Anton grins at your admission, taking a sip of his drink before replying "Hah, yeah, I can tell. You were giving me the eye roll of all eye rolls this morning. I take it you've changed your opinion of me now then?"

"Well, you have a very imposing build and with your resting scowl face I thought you'd be... Well nevermind, turns out you're someone who helps those in need... you also got a nice laugh." You end softly.

You hear a utensil drop, and you look up to see Anton's fork fell onto his steak, but more interesting was the deer caught in headlights look he was giving you.

Just as fast as it comes however he pushes it away, regaining his composure in record speed "Ha! I can see why you thought that. I do have a bit of a mean mug when I'm not smiling, though I've been told my laugh sounds like a bear's roar, so the nice laugh bit is definitely a first!" He grins at you, and you wonder if the lighting is playing tricks on you because you think there's some light redness at the top of his cheekbones. He then continues "But you're right, I do try to be helpful and kind, especially to those in need. And I'd like to think my sense of humor isn't half bad either."

You're not sure how to respond to that, the man has been nothing but forthcoming and honest with you all day while you've been... not.

Instead, you glance at the wall clock and say "I think I need to head out soon." As you clean off the last of your fries. "I came here for a job interview but I somehow ended up meeting you and uh- I really enjoyed it! I just wouldn't wanna walk back home too late in the dark y'know?"

"Anton looks at the time on his phone and nods in understanding."

"Yeah, it is getting late. It's not safe to walk around at night, especially for short stuff like you. I don't want you getting lost between the cracks in the sidewalk or something." He gives you a playful smirk.

You go to reply, deadpan tone and expression at the ready when he interrupts you.

"But... if you want, I could always give you a ride home. I have a company car parked nearby."

You hesitate " ...you already payed for the meal, which I'll totally pay you back for by the way! So I don't want to trouble you more..."

Anton shakes his head and waves off your concerns "Nah, don't worry about it. It's just a meal, it's no trouble at all. And don't worry about paying me back either, consider it a welcome to the company gift." He grins, then leans in closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially "Besides, you wouldn't be troubling me. It's my pleasure to help you out, Shorty."

You sweat drop "What's the point of me giving you my name if you'll just keep calling me that?"

Anton chuckles at your reaction, clearly enjoying teasing you "Oh, lighten up a bit. I like giving nicknames to people. It's a nice way to bond, y'know? Besides, it's kind of fitting, don't you think? Given your, uh, petite stature."

You glance at his emptied out tray, the mountains of food he'd heaped onto it already gone "Well, the bonding experience can wait till tomorrow, if you're done, shall we get going?"

Anton leans back in his chair, patting his stomach with a satisfied smile "Yeah, I'm all done. Let's hit the road." He stands up and stretches, then motions for you to follow him "Come on, Shorty. Let's get you home safe and sound."

You follow after him "Tell me honestly, Anton." You say as he grabs his tray to place it on the racks nearby, when you go to grab yours he beats you to it and smoothly takes that one as well, stacking it on his.

"I could've carried that!" You whine.

Anton's infuriatingly attractive grin makes another appearance "Oh, I know you could've carried it. But I'm just being a gentleman, shorty. Can't have you doing all the hard work before you even start tomorrow, you'll get even tinier!" He ends, his tone is teasing as usual but his eyes softened up considerably, and the look he's giving you has your insides turning to mush.

You flush. "Uh- as I was saying, are you maybe a bear in disguise? Because you just cleaned off a mountain of food alone."

Anton laughs at your flushed expression and your playful accusation, the way he's keeping his composure somehow just feels unfair, though you guess for someone working in construction keeping his cool would be a must.

"Ha! Bear in disguise, huh?" He replies "Nah, I'm just a guy with an appetite. You know, working here, I need the extra energy." Then his grin turns cocky "Plus, it takes a lot of food to fuel all this muscle." He gives a playful flex, showing off his bicep with a smirk.

You give a playful eye roll "Oh wow, and you're so humble too!" You say flatly "What a catch wow!"

Anton lets out a hearty laugh at your sarcastic remark and gives you a playful salute "Oh, you know it. I'm the total package. Good looks, charm, wit, and the appetite to match." He grins, clearly enjoying the banter, which you've come to enjoy as well.

"But I'll have you know, there are quite a few women here who think so too."

You deadpan "Good for you. Give me there number, I'll help set you up."

Anton chuckles, then scratches his chin in mock thoughtfulness, then his expression turns into a grin and he gives you a playful nudge.

"But why would I need their number when I've got yours, Shorty?"

You blink "Huh? But I never gave my number...?"

"Yeah, not yet you didn't, but I have good intuition. Call it a sixth sense." He taps his temple with a wink. And it's telling me a certain cute Shorty is interested."

You flush harder "Well your sixth sense must be malfunctioning this time." You say walking ahead, trying to keep him from seeing your beat red face. Unfortunately, with how much taller he is, he catches up by the next second.

When he's by your side, he wastes no time laughing at your flushed face "Hah, you're forgetting who you're dealing with, Shorty. These long legs of mine give me an unfair advantage."

You don't reply.

"And are you sure my sixth sense is malfunctioning this time? Cuz you're lookin' real flustered."

"You're imagining things, maybe it's time to visit the eye doctor?" You huff.

"Oh? Is that so? Hm, maybe my eyes aren't as sharp as they used to be. Let me have a closer look, just in case."

He places one hand on your shoulder to halt your walk and leans in closer, making a show of examining your face.

Your eyes go wider then your older sister's saucers "Hmm strange, I'm getting a clear view of your rosy cheeks right now, and my sixth sense is telling me it's not from the cold."

You consider how to get the upper hand in this situation, but with your muddled mind it gets a bit tricky. You end up going with the first thing that comes to mind "You're right, it's from the heat, it's really getting hot in hear for some reason-" You start, before realizing belatedly how suggestive that sounded "Uh- wait no-" You flush further.

Anton grins at your unintentional innuendo, and raises an eyebrow, playing along "Oh really? Getting hot in here, hm?" He looks around, feigning innocence "Huh, seems like a comfortable temperature to me. Maybe it's just you, Shorty."

You cover your tomato colored face with your arms "Oh enough already, you win so just stop!"

Anton laughs and puts his hands up in mock surrender "Alright, alright, I'll stop. Can't have the cute shorty overheating on me now, can I?" in a quieter, more gentle tone, he adds, "But seriously, your blush is adorable."

You groan "Anton!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anton pulls up outside your house in the company car and turns to you with a smile "Here we are, shorty. Home sweet home."

You nod "Thank you, and sorry for the trouble."

Anton shakes his head and waves off your apologies "No trouble at all, I enjoyed the company. Besides, I couldn't just let you walk home alone in the dark." He grins, then adds in a playful tone, "Especially not when you're such a cute Shorty."

You deadpan "Don't make me take it back." You consider something then say "Give me your phone for a sec."

Anton raises an eyebrow, but obediently hands you his phone "Sure, but why do you need it? You gonna put your number in without me asking?"

"Nice try. I'll give you my Inter Knot contact for work stuff. You're not high level enough to get my number yet."

"High enough level, huh? Am I just a lowly level one in your eyes right now?"

Not looking up from your typing you reply "You made it all the way up to level three on day one, Congrats! But your nickname for me is shorty, I don't know how to feel about that yet."

Anton laughs, seemingly amused by your rating system for him "Only level three? Damn, I was hoping for a higher rank. But you're right, the nickname 'Shorty' might be deducting some points."

He grins, then adds with a wink, "Maybe if I find a better nickname, I'll rank up higher in your eyes... or maybe I'll just keep calling you 'Shorty' just to annoy you."

You deadpan "Well that would be very in character for you wouldn't it?" You say handing him back the phone.

Anton takes it back with a smirk, clearly unrepentant for his nickname choice "Hah, you know me so well already, Shorty. I gotta admit, your deadpan face is just too fun to tease." He leans in closer, unable to resist poking at you further "Besides, the way you turn all tomato-red whenever you're flustered is just priceless."

You push his face back with your hand "Goodnight Anton, see you tomorrow." You say as you unlock the cat door and head out.

"Haha, goodnight, Shorty. Get some rest. Sweet dreams."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And as you lock the car door and leave, Anton checks his phone, leaving the Inter Knot app to check the CCTV footage he has access to. The one that clearly shows you entering and leaving Grace's lab. He barely mumbles out "Till tomorrow then... Y/n. Hopefully I'll figure out what you're really up to soon."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hmm did I manage to make the reader subtly mysterious? 🤔 Tell me guys if y'all want a part two. LavenderLily you can tell me directly 👀

And as always, Free Palestine ❤️ 🇵🇸

[sipitdownlikecherrysoup]

i noticed - l.jn # 1

chapter 1. an evening dress to remember. (3.1k)

pairing: regency era gentleman! jeno x dressmaker! reader

blurb: Y/N is a popular dressmaker in regency-era london, and foolishly decides to gatecrash the first ball of the season: a masquerade. even a mask can't stop jeno from noticing that she doesn't belong.

tags: fem & she/her reader, present tense, use of Y/N, reader is paranoid, jeno is incredibly observant, i know nothing about embroidery/tailoring but i try my best, inspired by benedict's story (bridgerton).

Your heart pounds so rapidly in your chest that it feels like it might explode, and you feel terribly sick. You worry that the insane amount of effort you’d put into this dress will be ruined with the amount you've sweat in your anxiety. 

Maybe you are making a mistake. No, you definitely are, but it's a little too late to back out now. You are already at the ball. The famed Lee Masquerade Ball. The Lee’s always have the privilege of opening the season with their extravagant masquerade, and it's a favorite among many of the high-society families you now find yourself surrounded with. 

You should be having an excellent time yourself, just like the blushing young ladies on the dance floor, and the men happily chatting alongside a tower of sparkling drinks so high that you would definitely send yourself into the cardiac arrest you’re so worried about should you attempt to take a glass for yourself. The only problem is that it's hard to have much fun when you’re worried that someone will discover that you do not belong here.

Should anybody notice that perhaps your posture is incorrect, or your manners aren't quite right, or that you do not know the correct way to formally address many of these guests, or Heaven forbid somebody recognises you as their dressmaker, you will be thrown out of London for good. You’ll lose your home, the flourishing career you have built for yourself, your whole life. 

All you had wanted was to experience what a ball was like yourself. The young ladies that frequent your store gush about them all day long. You’ve heard so many tales of the fanciful foods, the most amazing music, and mesmerizing decorations that could make you feel transported to another world. And you know nearly half of the dresses in this very room were hand designed, or even hand tailored by yourself, as well as a decent portion of the gentlemens’ clothing, too. Foolishly, selfishly, you had thought maybe you deserved to attend one of these events after all your hard work. And even if it is as magical as those young ladies made it sound, is it worth all the risk?

This is a mistake.

“If you stare at that tower much longer, you might be able to make it fall with that piercing gaze alone.” A voice shakes you out of your thoughts, making you startle. It’s soft but deep, too, and comes from much closer than you thought anybody was to where you had tried to hide yourself in a far corner of the room. 

When you turn to face the owner of the mysterious voice, your breath catches in your throat. 

Like yourself, some guests to the masquerade opt for a look that conceals their identity. Some say it's part of the fun. For you, it is a genuine disguise. 

Others opt for a simple mask that does little to hide their identity.

The thin and sleek, deep-blue mask adorning Jeno Lee’s face does nothing to disguise him, and the fact that you are speaking to one of the hosts of this prestigious event does nothing to calm your nerves. 

You had only seen him once, when he accompanied his mother to the store over a year ago and she insisted he purchase a new pair of silk-white gloves. Startlingly, you realize he is wearing them right now. 

It must amuse Jeno, the way you stare at him, slack-jawed and wordless and dumb, if the way he smiles gently at you has anything to say about it.

“Did you want one?” He asks you, politely. 

“I Want… One?” Is all you manage to speak brokenly

He blinks at you, a faint smile gracing his lips again. “A drink. From the tower. I can fetch one for you if you wish.” 

You spy an opportunity to escape, to send him on his way and dart out of this far-too-big house, to run all the way back to your cozy apartment above the shop and forget this ever happened, so you nod and try your best to match his niceties, “If you would, please, I would be grateful.”

You know something you said was wrong from the way his eyebrows crease ever so slightly but he doesn't call you out on it. He must be too polite.

“Very well.” He turns to approach the drink tower in question before pausing, swiveling on his heels to look at you again, “I apologize. I didn't get your name, Miss…?” He prompts, looking at you expectantly. 

Your brain short circuits. You swear you can feel it pouring from your ears as you fumble wildly for a response. Your name— No! Not your name! Any name but your name.

“Miss… Throckbottom!” You squeak out, only to internally wince when your words reach your ears. Somehow, you have mixed up the worst aspects of two of your clients surnames. Lord Throckmorton, and Lady Oakenbottom. Curiously, it sounds a lot like ‘rock bottom’ and that is exactly how you feel right now. 

Still, Jeno has that stupid, and yet incredibly endearing, amused but polite smile. His eyes crinkle this time, too, so you know you’ve really humored him. You worry that he will question you, or that he knows but he only happily replies, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Throckbottom.” 

The moment he turns away from you, the escape plan begins. Your eyes dart around the room to locate the nearest exit and then you break for it. In your haste, you try to exit a different way than you entered and get utterly lost in a maze of hallways that seem to stretch on forever. 

As you race around the corridors, finding several rooms that seem only to be filled with different types of chairs, multiple locked doors, and a large hall that surely rivaled even the finest art galleries with the collection adorning it's walls, you panic about how deep into this mansion you now are. If you are caught so far away from where you should be, you will be all the more suspicious. And what if you are assumed to be a thief?! Forget being banished from London, you would be thrown straight to the execution block! 

Looping back around on yourself, you barely have any air left in your burning lungs when you make it back to the ballroom, but you are rewarded with a hopeful glimpse of your way out. You try your best to casually make your way across the entire ballroom, sticking to the far edges and drawing as little attention to yourself as possible. Your heart aches when you pass by a tray of sweets unlike any you had ever seen, but you could not risk stopping to try them. Not when you were so close to getting out. 

Finally, you reach the door, but just as you are about to duck and run, a hand catches yours to gently pull you indoors before it lets go. It’s firm and yet much gentler than you would have assumed given that whoever had grabbed you surely wants you arrested or put to death. 

“There you are, Miss…” 

He snuck up on you again. Just who is Mister Lee that he has the ability to go entirely undetected by your senses!? What kind of training does he have? Does he know that you were running about his house like a headless chicken just minutes ago? Has he been following you undetected the whole time? 

Despite your thoughts getting away from you, you muster the strength to turn and face Jeno, planning on at least attempting to defend yourself. You are shocked still by the careful concern written across his face, and dancing in his eyes, entirely unhidden by the flimsy mask he wears. He looks worried, terribly so, about you, you realize. As if he’s aware of the dangerous situation that you have gotten yourself into.

But he can’t be. Not when he says, “Are you unchaperoned, Miss? Surely you should not be. I was surprised when you had vanished.” 

Of course. This is the polite gentleman you had been speaking to, after all. He would be worried about the safety and honor of any lady. It doesn't have anything to do with you in particular.

You shake your head quickly, trying your best to lie your way out of this, “No, my mama is somewhere around here. I only wanted some fresh air, but I forgot myself. It would not do well to leave alone, thank you for the reminder.”

You spot the drink in his hand, the one you had requested, or rather the one he had asked you if you wanted. He had been carrying it around dutifully, then. 

“Perhaps a drink will cool my nerves, actually.” You add, trying your best to come up with a convincing story, “I apologize for leaving so suddenly. This is my first ball and I am rather nervous.”

Jeno passes you the drink, but you don't miss the inquisitive look in his expression, like once again you’ve said something wrong. This time, he does not ignore your mistake. 

“Ah, this is your debut season? You are… somewhat older than the usual debutante, but I can appreciate that it is likely still nerve wracking.” 

Shit. You had thought it would be good cover to play the clueless debutante. It would explain your lack of manners, and your nerves, but you were not sixteen, nor seventeen, nor even eighteen, but twenty-three! You’re not sure whether to be upset or not that he can tell your age from behind your mask. 

You panic, totally blanking, before digging yourself deeper into the hole of lies, “W-well! You see, my family is not… so… wealthy, at the moment, and we have had to save for my dowry… so…” You give up talking and then down the drink, far too quickly, almost choking on the slight burn of the alcohol. You had not realized it would have strong liquor in it. 

Jeno watches you closely, just as he has been the entire time you’ve been speaking to him. Again, he appears endeared, presumably by the way you just threw back your drink, and then he looks as though he has an idea.

“Would you like to share a dance?” 

He looks so genuine as he asks you, like maybe he truly does wish to dance with you. You cannot think of a single reason why. Perhaps he is trying to help you appear more desirable, then? He really is kind. 

“Yes.” 

No. What are you doing? Why did you agree? 

You don't have time to think about that because a pleased-looking Jeno is already leading you towards the floor, and somehow he is perfectly timed with the beginning of the next song. A song that you have no idea how to dance to. You don't know how to dance to any song!

Jeno takes one of your hands into his, and then places the other onto your waist. Thankfully, this appears to be a slow dance rather than anything too complicated. You quickly respond by resting your free hand on his shoulder, and then try your best to follow his lead as the dance starts. 

It's evident almost immediately that you have no idea what you're doing. You’re staring down at your feet instead of looking at him. Even with such simple steps, you’re treading on his feet and messing up the timing. Your eyes snap up to his face worriedly, but there isn't any judgment. Instead, Jeno simply looks contemplative before he leans closer to ask you a question in a hushed voice, “Have you never danced before?” 

Your head is spinning. He’s so close. You’ve never been this close to a man before, not even when tailoring their suit jackets to perfectly fit their arms— and goodness, does Jeno’s jacket fit him well. You are almost mad that you didn't get to tailor it yourself. 

It’s almost a relief that Jeno doesn't seem to require an answer to his question, unbothered that you stare dumbly at him once again, because he certainly already knows the answer. The hand resting at the side of your waist shifts, curling around your lower back, and then he pulls you closer still. He smells faintly of cedarwood and orange blossom and it nearly sends you into a frenzy because why is it so good? You think whatever he is doing to your mind, the way he is hypnotizing you, has tricked you into feeling that you are floating. 

Until you realize that your feet are not on the ground. Jeno is lifting you, with the strength of only one arm, so that you are just barely hovering from the ground. The skirts of your dress are long enough that they still touch the ground, concealing the fact that Jeno is all but puppeteering you into the perfect dancer. 

You must look shocked because Jeno whispers to confirm that you are alright with this before you quickly school your expression back to neutrality and nod. 

It's far too fun dancing with him like this, or just being spun around given that it's very little work for your part. It doesn't look like it's any effort for Jeno either, somehow. How crazy is this guy's core strength, anyways? It wasn't too typical for a gentleman to be that strong, because why would they need to be?

There is a subtle mirth dancing in his eyes when he continues prodding at your facade, “It is strange to neglect to teach a debutante to dance when that is the prime tactic for capturing a suitor.” 

Call you crazy but you might even think that Jeno is having fun, too. At your expense. 

“We could not afford dance lessons.” You grasp onto that same excuse from earlier, hoping he will let it go.

“Ah, then you must have been planning to charm a suitor some other way.” Jeno muses, and he’s still giving you that soft smile that makes you want to just melt, “From what I have seen, you do not seem to be conversationally gifted either, perhaps you have other talents?”

You have half a mind to scowl at him but manage to refrain. It would be too risky to claim being talented in areas you're unable to talk about, especially when you’ve painstakingly learned how curious Jeno is. You know nothing of pianoforte or watercolors, but embroidery you know.

“Needlework.” You say, before remembering to expand on the subject, “It is my greatest passion. I am never prouder of myself than when I am able to create a unique pattern.”

Unfortunately, you find it hard to stop yourself from rambling too much. 

“The pattern on my gloves, for example, uses multiple types of stitching to create what looks like drooping wisteria. Mostly the herringbone stitch and the continental knot stand out, hm, but the humble chain stitch should not go unforgotten. It is a classic.” 

Jeno appears to look at your gloves with an incredible intensity that almost makes you clam up self-consciously before he begins his praise, “It is fine work. Your modiste could be jealous.”

You tried to hide your nervous laughter behind a smile, feeling warm from his compliments, but dying inside at the ironic image of feeling jealousy towards yourself. 

The conversation lulls, but it's a comfortable silence you find yourself in whilst your eyes drift to take in the scenery of the ballroom again. 

You catch a glare from a short, pretty-looking lady and immediately you tense up. It's not just her, the woman next to her is glaring too, and you recognise her as one of your customers, wearing a dress you’d finished laboring over just days ago. You quickly scan the room to find that there are hardly any ladies not giving you some form of nasty look, and there are plenty of gentlemen looking your way as well. 

But of course the ladies are giving you such evil looks. You are dancing with Mister Lee, arguably the most desirable bachelor in the ton, perhaps only aside from his titled brother, though maybe still preferable based on the way you had seen debutantes fawn over his ‘handsome visage, kind eyes, and kinder still personality’ many a time while taking their measurements. The man that holds the supposed unofficial record for highest number of ladies trying to faint on him at a single event, as rumor has it, was still looking only at you. The Jeno Lee that many mothers had scorned whilst waiting for their daughters to finish trying their new gowns on for the fact that he has yet to announce his intention to marry is ever so close to you. The very Jeno that currently has an arm tightly wrapped around you is renowned for putting off his need to marry because he would much rather spend his time at home than at high society parties, so of course the fact that you are taking up so much of his time makes you the target of every unwed lady from here to… The rest of England! 

You feel dizzy from all of the attention, from how you can feel the hundreds of pairs of eyes glued to you. 

You need to leave. As soon as this dance is over. As soon as he lets you back onto the ground.

Almost as if you had pleaded hard enough to the Gods, the dance ends just as you will it to. Jeno finally lets you go. He’s wordless, but again there's something questioning in his eyes that you ignore. You offer your best, and yet definitely still shoddy, curtsey to Jeno and immediately hightail it back towards the main door. 

You have no idea what possesses you but you turn your head back for one last look, unable to stop yourself, to see that Jeno is standing stock still in the middle of the dance floor, watching you leave. His gaze does not falter, it almost burns into you. He makes no move to follow you this time, in fact, he makes no move at all, much to the confusion of the other attendees that watch him linger alone in the dancefloor even after it has been abandoned by everyone else. He just watches you, and then everybody else does as well. That seems to snap him from his daze, and then he’s walking away from the floor but you don't bother to look long enough to find out where to. 

You focus back on your escape, near running now and it isn't long before you are through the door. 

You do not stop running, and you do not look back again.

---

author's note:

thank you so much for reading <3. this is the first time i've published on this blog, so i hope it's well-received. i can make a taglist going forward if anybody is interested, and please stay tuned for part 2! i have at least 8 parts planned overall :). thanks very much to cherry for proofreading this for me <33. - soup

[odditycircus-2002]

Mortal Kombat Masterlist (Updated)

Warning: I wrote a lot with Shang Tsung and Baraka. Also heavily features Medusa!Reader.

Old Era:

Medusa!Reader x Shang Tsung I

Medusa!Reader x Shang Tsung II

Medusa!Reader x Shang Tsung Aftermath

Shang Tsung's Death

Medusa!Reader Intro Walk, Friendship, Fatalities, etc

Medusa!Reader Intros I

Medusa!Reader Intros II

Revenant Reader x Shang Tsung

Some NSFW Headcannon with Shang Tsung with Medusa!Reader

Snake in the Garden

Saudade

New Era:

The Masked Medicine Woman

Medusa!Reader Story Mode I

Medusa!Reader Story Mode II

Medusa!Reader Story Mode III

Medusa!Reader Story Mode IV

Medusa!Reader Story Mode V

Medusa!Reader Story Mode VI

Medusa!Reader Story Mode VII

Medusa!Reader! Story Mode VIII

Medusa!Reader Story Mode IX

Medusa!Reader Story Mode X

Medusa!Reader Story Mode XI

Medusa!Reader Story Mode XII

Medusa!Reader Story Mode Ending

Medusa!Reader and Syzoth Platonic Headcannons

Shedding Season (Featuring Platonic Syzoth)

Holiday Fun🎄

Thanksgiving🦃

Peeping Tom 😳😳😳

Medusa!Reader Loves Chocolate

What If feat.Medusa!Reader I

What If feat.Medusa!Reader II

What If Feat. Medusa!Reader III

Why Baraka?

Some NSFW H/Cs between Medusa!Reader and Baraka

When Baraka saw You grow Wings

ANGST WITH BARAKA AND MEDUSA!READER

Medusa!Reader Eating

MK1 Intros I

Mk1 Intros II

MK1 Intros III

MK1 Intros IV

You're Beautiful (Mk1 Shang Tsung x Medusa!Reader)

Requests (Currently Closed)

(Includes both the Old Era and New Era)

🥵- Nsfw

Pet Store

Ashrah

Aesthete

Baraka

One Night (Baraka x Medusa!Reader)

Erron Black

Morrigan Reader

Fujin

"The Voice" Fujin x Reader

Kabal

Morrigan Reader

Kenshi Takahashi

Morrigan Reader

Kitana

MK1 Kitana x Female Reader

Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi)

Mk11 Scorpion with shy s/o

Quan-Chi's Daughter Reader X Scorpion Nsfw and Sfw🥵

Widow (Quan-chi's Daughter Reader x Scorpion)

Quan-chi's Daughter x Scorpion starting a family

King and Queen

Shang Tsung

Valentine's Day with Shang Tsung💕💕💕🥵

NSFW Shang Tsung HCs🥵

Perfect Gentleman

Syzoth

Aesthete

Quan-Chi

A Terrifying Love

Eternally Loyal

Da Rules:

The characters I'm willing to write for are the men AND women of Mortal Kombat. This includes from MK9 to MK1 as that's what I am most familiar with.

I'm writing fics and h/cs, you'll have to be specific about what you want otherwise I'm choosing. No refunds!

I'm willing to write nsfw h/cs and fics.

Please be specific of what character and scenario you want, more details the better. Also the amount of characters you can request at a time is FIVE.

I will NOT, I repeat, NOT write anything that makes me uncomfortable such as sexual assault, waterworks, pedophilia, and obvious stuff like that.

Also I’m sticking with “X reader” content cause I know that best!

[writing-in-sin]

KUROBA KAITO HC: GENTLEMAN

Contrary to what his peers are led to believe, Kaito is much of a gentleman as his dad was. While he usually shows it when he's KID, its actually a big part of who he is but something he rarely ever shows in his civvies because it doesn't fit into the skirt flipping prankster mask he's carved for himself after his dad died

People rarely could ever handle his grief and anger, always saying things like how he's not acting like himself. When he got tired of such comments even from those he cares about, he amplified the prankster to hide away parts of himself that he rather not share anymore

Save for a selected few

His mom is obviously one of them. Jii-chan, another. But the one who especially finds himself stumbling and blushing will always be Shinichi

It doesn't matter if its a sunflower tucked tenderly behind his ear or a proffered arm, it never fails to leave Shinichi flushing in soft adoration. Even before they got together, Shinichi actively encourages Kaito to let himself act the way he wants instead of what people expects from his civilian class clown self

When Kaito understands that there is someone who wants his true self (the trickster, the gentleman, the unhinged genius, the avenger - the boy who loves wholly and chaotically), Kaito allows himself to just be himself

So even though they weren't dating at the time, it's not an unusual sight to find Kaito be an utter gentleman with a dark, mischievous charisma like from the Victorian era of old around a flustered Shinichi

from offering sunflowers, greeting the detective with a gentle reverent kiss to the knuckles to always offering his arm as they walk. It never fails to surprise people though in seeing Shinichi melts the way he does whenever Kaito does those things

Its especially telling because Shinichi allows himself to be charmed, letting the sunflower tucked somewhere on his person. whether its behind his ear or even weaved into his hair. or how he never pulls his hand away whenever Kaito kisses the knuckles

most of all, how Shinichi tucks himself close whenever Kaito offers his arm. how Shinichi always has a soft blush and looks adoringly up at Kaito as they walk

thats when people know that Shinichi is pretty much gone for the darkly charismatic gentleman

[flamingspud]

"I wonder if she'll stick around this time," Mumbo, a gentleman in a late, Victorian-era suit pondered. "I hope not, she was a bitch," Scott, a man in a striking blue regency era suit and silver mask commented.

When Lizzie and her husband inherit a mansion in the middle of nowhere after the death of her great-aunt, it’s like a dream come true.

The catch? The house is haunted.

After an accident leaves Lizzie with the ability to speak to the dead, she finds herself helping to solve their problems, both serious and ridiculous.

Based on the 2021 version of Ghosts.

[charliedawn]

Imagine Deadpool always being goofy around you but secretly trusting you more than anybody

Deadpool is, as usual, a whirlwind of awful decisions whenever he’s around you. He bounces in with finger guns, terrible puns, and his favorite “guess who” game (always tapping your shoulder from the wrong side). He throws around ridiculous pet names like “Buttercup” and “Snickerdoodle” and spends half the time doing terrible impressions or random dance moves just to see if he can get you to laugh.

But then there are moments—tiny, fleeting ones—when he lets his guard slip, and you see a flicker of something softer. Like when you’re both sitting in the middle of his post-fight mess, and he hands you the first aid kit with an awkward, "Hey, doc—patch me up ?" Or when he ‘casually’ invites you to join him on a job, insisting it’s only because he ‘needs someone to carry the snacks.’

One night, after a particularly close call, he actually opens up, sitting next to you in rare silence. He mutters a quiet, "Thanks for, you know, sticking around." Then he’s back to his usual self, laughing it off and talking about how he’s going to name his next bullet after you (in the most loving way, of course).

No one else gets to see that side of him, though; with everyone else, he’s always on guard, always deflecting with humor or sarcasm. But with you, he lets that mask slip—just enough to show that, deep down, he trusts you more than he’d ever admit. And even if he might not say it out loud, he knows you understand.

………………

"UUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH ! It's so boooorrriiiiinnnng ! Why isn't there any criminal trying to chop my head off ?!"

He asks and you smile at the impatient vigilante.

"Because, it's Saturday. Even bad guys can take a break from time to time…"

Deadpool lets out another dramatic groan, slumping against the wall as if he’s just received the worst news in the universe. "But Saturdays are prime crime time ! What happened to honor among thieves ? Where’s the commitment ?"

You stifle a laugh, crossing your arms as you lean against the wall beside him. "Maybe they’re on vacation ? Even villains need some self-care."

He rolls his eyes, pulling out a stray bullet and inspecting it for no real reason. "Villain self-care ? What, like mani-pedis and aromatherapy ? ‘Oh look at me, I’m a vicious warlord but I just had to take a spa day !’" He mimics an exaggerated fancy accent, waving his arms around for effect.

You shake your head, grinning. "Maybe they got tired of all the explosions and chaos and thought, ‘Hey, let’s try a quiet weekend.’ Who knows ?"

He sighs, crossing his arms with a pout. "Well, what am I supposed to do with all this pent-up energy ?" He glances at you with a mischievous grin. "C’mon, let's go out and do something reckless ! Or mildly reckless. Or, hey—wanna play ‘Hide and Seek’ on the rooftops ? Loser buys chimichangas !"

You laugh, knowing full well that Deadpool would take any excuse to drag you along on his misadventures, even on the most boring of Saturdays. "Fine, but no rooftops. How about we just grab the chimichangas instead ?"

He perks up instantly, the pout vanishing as if it never existed. "See, that’s why you’re my favorite ! Chimichanga adventure—let’s go !" He leaps up, offering you his hand like he’s about to escort you to the finest restaurant in town. "Saturday saved !"

You take his hand, and he pulls you up with an exaggerated flourish, bowing as if he’s some gentleman from another era. "My dear snuggle-muffin, tonight we dine…taco truck style !"

Laughing, you let him lead you outside, where he immediately starts rambling on about his ‘top-secret plan’ to one day create a chimichanga empire that will rival all fast-food chains. He even sketches out a logo idea in the air, claiming it would be like Taco Bell but with more ‘POW !’ and less ‘corporate.’

On the way, he’s darting around every street corner and alleyway, occasionally peeking into windows. "Still no villains lurking around… they’re really letting me down today," he grumbles, but his annoyance seems to fade as soon as you reach the brightly lit food truck. Deadpool claps his hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. "Two of your most dangerous chimichangas !" he declares to the vendor, his eyes gleaming with an almost childlike joy.

As you both sit on a nearby bench with your food, Deadpool munches happily, occasionally tossing bits in the air and catching them in his mouth. After a few bites, he glances at you, his mask scrunched up slightly as if he’s about to say something serious. But then he just nudges your shoulder. "Y’know, this is almost better than fighting bad guys."

You give him a playful shove. "Almost ?"

"Fine, equally as good," he grins, taking another big bite. There’s a moment of comfortable silence, with just the city noise around you, and he looks at you with a sincerity that’s rare for him. "Thanks for sticking around, even on the boring days."

You smile back, knowing that under all the jokes and chaos, this goofy, unpredictable vigilante values you more than he lets on. "Anytime, Wade. Even on Saturdays."

He pauses, then pulls you into a one-armed hug, messy and warm. "Alright, alright—now hurry up ! Next round’s on me, and I’m feeling brave enough to try the spicy ones. Bring it on, Saturday !"

You laughed. Yeah…That promises to be a very good Saturday indeed.

[presleyheart]

Hi again!! I just had a brain wave while I was scrolling through pictures of Elvis. Could you write a fic of reader meeting Elvis(any era) at a masquerade ball?? I just think he'd be such a gentleman, as if he wasn't already🤧

Picture for inspiration!

GOD I HARDLY KNOW MUCH ABOUT MASQUERADE BALLS BUT HERE WE GO!

based off of phantom of the opera it explains the ending lol "Killing Me Softly With His Song"

Pairing: 60s!Elvis Presley x fem!reader SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------- NOVEMBER 28, 1966.

Many gathered around at the Black and White ball. Many people were invited, from authors to musicians. You were a lucky poet whom had also been invited for your great works. You were in a form fitting white dress, silky as it rode down your body. You had matching heels and pearl earrings. You had a black corsage as well. The mask that decorated your face was half black, half white, with miniature pearls on the outside. ----- --- -----

The grand ballroom was a swirl of monochrome elegance, each guest a moving masterpiece in shades of black and white. The air was filled with the soft hum of conversation, punctuated by the clinking of champagne glasses and the gentle strains of a live orchestra playing timeless classics.

You made your way through the crowd, exchanging polite nods and smiles with other guests. You spotted a few familiar faces—an acclaimed novelist engrossed in conversation with a renowned jazz musician, a playwright animatedly discussing his latest work with a famous actress. It was a night where creativity and artistry mingled freely, and you felt a sense of belonging among these luminaries.

As you approached the center of the room, you noticed a figure standing alone by the grand piano. He was tall and striking, dressed in a tailored black suit with a white mask that contrasted sharply with his dark hair. He seemed lost in thought, his fingers gently tapping the piano keys as if composing a silent melody. ----- --- -----

Intrigued, you made your way over to him. "Hello," you greeted, your voice soft but confident. "Beautiful music tonight, isn’t it?"

He turned to you, his blue eyes were piercing through the mask. His aura was radiant. "I guess," he replied, his voice deep and resonant. "But I believe the most beautiful melodies are yet to be played."

You smiled, feeling a spark of connection. "Are you a musician?" you asked, curious. His voice sounded awfully familiar but you just couldn't put your finger on it.

He nodded. "And many other things. But tonight, I am simply a guest, enjoying the company of other artists." His drawl was heavy, almost addictive.

"What is your name, Mr. Tall, Dark, and-" He shoots you a glance. You immediately pull away from the bubbly introduction. To which he responds to with a crooked smile, then a light chuckle.

"Surprised you ain't guessed yet, doll." He said, looking down at you. He gently takes your hand, it was only then you would have noticed that there was music playing. You were too busy becoming entwined with your fascination for this utter stranger.

"May I have this dance?" His larger hand engulfs yours, all you could do was breathlessly nod.

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

He had then led you to the dance floor. You two were almost in sync, predicting each move. As you moved together in perfect harmony, it felt as though the entire room had faded away, leaving just the two of you, lost in the music and the moment.

His hands slowly trickled down to your hips as you two had a gentle sway going. It was almost like being inside of the music. It was killing you softly.

He had began humming, you rested your head against his chest.

"Your whole aura, it's just-" He cuts you off.

"Shh. Enjoy the peace. Don't get caught up in conversation baby doll."

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

When the two of you finished, there was a moment of silence, followed by an almost silent tension. "Thank you for being my muse tonight." He muttered, he rubbed your cheek with the back of his fingers. Admiring you.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. "It was my pleasure," you replied.

Right before you two departed from eachother, he stopped you.

"By the way," "Hm?" "The name's Elvis, Elvis Presley."

You were awe-stricken. How could you have not noticed sooner. But, by the time you were to turn around and face him. He was gone. Gone into the crowd of many.

All you were left with was the memory of your sweetly shared dance of genuine interest, and the thought of if you will see him again. FIN.