#I have not felt this full of joy and whimsy in YEARS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

safyresky · 2 months ago

Text

Scrimbly Jacqueline 37/52: Diteline Donniline family portrait!

BOOM BABY! DITELINE KIDS! AKA DONNILINE KIDS! Because when Jacqueline and Dite have their kiddos, Dite has had her whole arc and goes by her true name, Hedone! (Which I know I have said a bunch of times already lol but since this is THE Donnieline fam post, it's here for posterity).

This one was by FAR my most intensive scrimble YET. Joy's wings nearly took me OUT. I have NO IDEA how to alt ID this as of yet, oh my GOD. The sketch was finished Friday, the lines Saturday, and the colours took all day Sunday on and off between Year 9 edits (and then drafting this post took most of my evening between episodes of Face Off lol :)

In terms of designs, Milfline is in her usual fit, Milfdone is in a casual fit based on this dress here. And as for the kids...well. I think it's time we officially meet them, shall we? I'll go oldest to youngest!

JOY

Meet Joy! She's the oldest of the bunch! Is about 8 (hundred) in this scrimble :) (on the right (our right), with the wings)

Was "born" on accident due to the HUGE amount of joy Jacqueline and Dite felt after being reunited when Venus did some BULLSHIT

(Including, but not limited to, misnaming Hedone for THOUSANDS of years, cursing Jacqueline into an eternal sleep and casting her into the underworld, and setting Hedone on the same journey Psyche went on for Cupid just before Dite was born)

She is the literal embodiment of Joy. Literally.

She has ALL the celestial/god powers!

She can do a little bit of fire and a bit of frost but not as much as her mom, her mom's fam, or her siblings

So she can conjure some flame and some snow/frost but that's about it sprite wise!

Is as talented a weapons master as her Mater

Has 0 (zero) castor magic abilities

Is the Cupid after Donnie (The Third Cupid. Cupid the Third).

Has butterfly wings like Psyche, her grandma!

They start small and grow with her. I based the pattern on monarch patterns and the shape on this clip art lol

The tips are vaguely heart shaped lmao (emphasis on VAGUELY)

In terms of wing pattern itself, it's not final? But the vibe/idea I was going for was a snowflake-esque motif for the top wings, and a combo of hearts and sparks/stars for the bottom wings! Also not sure about colours—I'm deffs gonna use her wings as like, a blank canvas every time!

Joy is just a bundle of Joy. She's an absolute sweetheart. Not a SINGLE PERSON dislikes her, she's just so sweet it's so hard to DISlike her

Seems kind of like a bit of an airhead because she's so full of joy and whimsy and such but she knows when to smarten up and is ALWAYS looking out for her siblings (despite what Bianca thinks)

Her heart pochette was so last minute but I LOVED IT SO MUCH!!

Hair I've always pictured strawberry blonde, but I think it's more orangey thanks to her summer sprite relatives!

Has Jacqueline's eyes!

Hair is fairly curly! Turns out when you constantly freeze your hair into curls, the curls become genetic ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

BIANCA

Meet Bianca! She's the middlest, and is about 7 (hundred) in this scrimble :) (on the left, with the C: face)

Joy really wanted a sibling and so, for funsies, Dite and Jacquie are like "Oh? What would they be like?" and build a snowman with her, to her specifications lol

They have a very fun time together but then things get...weird

The snowman seems to have a mind of its own. It moves around on them. It doesn't melt. Joy claims it talks to her.

It starts to look more little girl like. Knowing how sprites were originally made, Jacqueline's like hmm...

She talks to MN, who tells her to go to this very sacred section of the Springs and she does and she gets a life light and goes DAMN. OKAY. GUESS WE'VE GOT KID NUMBER TWO ON THE WAY!

She gets home that day, and finds the snowman, and gives it the light life and POOF! Suddenly, Bianca!

She's named after Winter's bio Mom :)

Bianca is FULL Winter sprite; she has 0 god things going on.

She CAN do some castor stuff! Dips into warlock lineage but I'm not sure she has a staff—she Blaises it: wandless magic FTW babieeeeee!

Is the Jack Frost after Jacqueline (The Third Jack Frost. Jack Frost the Third. As you can see I am workshopping how they refer to the latter Legendary Figures lmao)

She has this really cool talent where she can pull the most GORGEOUS colours out of the snow and ice

When she freeze dries, it is more icy looking like her Uncle Jack and she is CONSTANTLY changing the shades. Blues! Pinks! Purples! Sometimes she gets some ORANGE going! She's like YEAH BABY! FUCKIN. COLOURS!

She is a bookworm; of the 3 Donniline kids deffs the more sensible/down to earth/serious one

Which is saying something as she and Robyn do all sorts of shenanigans together lol. Wait until you see the VDay oneshot >:)

When THAWED, her hair is as dark as Jacqueline's and she tends to also put lil colourful streaks in that lol. I keep picturing it as a bit of a poofball? Idk where she got the poofball gene from. Humidity is her enemy lol

Has Dite's eyes!

She likes sweater vests a normal amount, she swears

ROBYN

It's ROBYN! They are the youngest, most hyper active, and the future governor of Crystal Springs (I am not joking. I am so serious. He is the person who finally defeats Blaise in an election)

They are about 6 (hundred) here and are smack dab in the middle of the scrimble

He was gonna give Joy bunny ears but then she got too excited and started hovering and now he's trying to save it with a wave lol

Robyn is genderfluid! Usually goes by he/they but has been known to have some she/her days and has dabbled in neopronouns, I'm sure

Robyn has the most chaotic birth story, because of COURSE he does

Gods started bragging one day and somehow. SOMEHOW Donnie got into it with Jupiter about how HE birthed Minerva from his HEAD, to which Donnie replied "YOU ATE HER MOM AND THEN ASKED VULCAN TO SMASH YOU WITH A HAMMER BECAUSE OF THE HEADACHE SHE GAVE YOU AND BOOM. AUNT MINERVA. THAT'S NOT THE SAME AS GIVING BIRTH. I'LL PROVE IT!"

And then she does. Well, sorta! She doesn't. Y'know. Eat Jacqueline after fucking her or anything like that, and I don't think they conceive traditionally. There's DEFFS some god magic involved.

But anyway, they have a spot of fun, and Dite takes care of the "pregnancy" bit, and Robyn bursts out of her BICEP nine months later lol.

He's always like FULLY FORMED AND READY TO SLAY and then Bianca goes NO YOU WERE A BABY. BABY SHAPED. I WAS THERE AND SAW to which they reply YOU WERE TWO (hundred), FUCK OFF

And then fisticuffs happen as Joy yells about the swear jar

It's deffs still a wip lol but tl;dr: Robyn comes out of Dite's bicep :)

He is full Summer sprite! Loves them some arson and fire. ALSO fully warlockian! Can cast like nobody's bizz! Has his Uncle Fino AND Grunkle Pyros AND Gramps AND Uncle Jack teaching him

Needless to say, he's a force to be reckoned with

Either wears a blazer or denim vest COVERED in buttons and pins. Depends on the plans they've got for the day! Business, or party?

Would probably wear the vest OVER the blazer if they felt so inclined lol

His satchel is bottomless. Got it from B-Man :) It is great for tomfoolery, shenanigans, snacks, and storage!

Has a trans bestie and I think the pair of them accidentally bring back PRE MONARCHY fae. It gets weird.

Was born with fully white hair; he looks full winter sprite but is a summer sprite

When his hair on fire it stays white. Very cool >:)

Also playing with the idea of his flames being blue and white or one or the other! Still thinking about it lol

I tried to see how I liked him with the summer sprite eyes and decided I don't!! So he'll also have the Jacqueline eyes :) Make people assume he's a winter sprite SO FAST until he sets something on fire with their bare hands

He is very proud that he is an enigma ALL OVER THE DAMN PLACE lol

And I think that about covers it for these goobers, for now! Bianca's hair is DEFFS very different in my head so I will DEFFS have to do proper doodles of them all to give you guys the full vibe. These guys have been CARTWHEELING in my head, let me tell you. I love them dearly. Have a snippet of their shenanigans:

“How do I look?” “Stunning, jaw-dropping, gorgeous—ready to kick ass, even!” “Oh, stop it,” Donnie said, playfully waving a hand. “Never.” Jacqueline fell back, her head hitting the pillow. “Check on the kids on your way out? Bianca was still awake when I got in.” “Still?!” “One more chapter, she said. You know. Like a liar,” Jacqueline huffed, snuggling into the covers. “Oh, boo! It’s already cold.” Donnie laughed, clipping her charm bracelet onto her wrist. “It’ll warm up. And if not, we’ll make short work of that later.” Donnie did not need to turn around to know that her wife had turned very red. The squeak that came out of the blankets was enough of a tell. Laughing quietly to herself she left the room, keeping the door slightly ajar. Across the hall, another door opened. “Did someone say they needed some WARM?!” Robyn asked, popping out of their room. He wore a throw blanket over his head, clasping it around their neck like a cape. “You know how your Mom is.” Donnie swooped over, giving Robyn a big old hug. “The moment I leave the bed she freezes.” “DUTY CALLS!” Robyn saluted, rushing across the hall and bursting through the door. “CHARGE!” “AH!” There was a poof, pillows hitting the ground as both Jacqueline and Robyn laughed. “Get over here you, I’m fucking freezing.” “MOM! SWEAR JAR!” The door beside Robyn’s burst open, Joy’s head popping out with a small frown. “PUT IT ON MY TAB!” Joy huffed, the stray hairs on her forehead briefly lifting. Donnie tilted her head. She frowned. “Joy.” “Mmmmyes?” “Are you dressed for work?” “Oh, this old thing?” she popped out of her room fully, clothed in Donnie’s old chiton from her Legate days. “YES. Absolutely I am! You said so yourself! Duty calls!” her eyes were wide, with a big old smile to match. She clasped her hands together excitedly, hovering off the ground, her wings fluttering rapidly. “I was just thinking, you know, it being THE day and all, that we’d better be ready to help you however we need!” “SHE DOESN’T SPEAK FOR ME!” Robyn shouted, Jacqueline laughing loudly. “Well, Bianca and I will—” “NO!”

There was a clatter from the room beside the main. Something fell with a hefty thunk; there was a scramble as Bianca’s door burst open. “FIRST of all, I don’t do the Cupid thing! I do the Jack Frost thing! SECONDLY, I’m not going ANYWHERE this morning cuz I’m almost done my book, and it’s a slow burn, and they only JUST admitted their love and I am like. Only one fifty pages in!! THERE’S STILL ONE HUNDRED MORE PAGES! So I’m booked today. Literally.” “Bianca! You should have been asleep hours ago.” “Okay, one more chapter, Mater, then I’ll sleep." “YOU SAID THAT AN HOUR AGO,” Jacqueline shouted from the bedroom. “I’M A SLOW READER,” Bianca shouted back. “THE FUCK YOU ARE!” “SWEAR JAR!” Joy shouted. “I saw her tank that really thick romance last week in like, an hour. It was fascinating,” Robyn continued unabashed, volume as normal as it got with the kids (which was still pretty loud). “It was really good! I was HOOKED! Their magic system was stupid but I couldn’t stop reading. I was like, enthralled with how unreal the mechanics are—HOLD UP. ROBYN.” “WHAT.” “DID YOU START A CUDDLE PUDDLE AND NOT TELL ME?” “…” “YOU BITCH!” "SWEAR JAR!"

From the Valentine's Day Donniline Special, Bedtime Stories, coming to a platform near you in February!

This is 4/5 of the @kscribbs suggestions! It was a simple prompt: a family portrait of Jacquie, Donnie and the kiddos. Did I go overboard? (squints at colours, bios, birth stories, AND the oneshot snippet) very much yes. But hey! Now's a good time as any to show you the lil' guys!!! AND I AM FINALLY CAUGHT UP ON THE SCRIMBLES! AH!

This week's scrimble will be ANOTHER cute one (I TOLD YA I'd have cute to compensate for the angst of #36) and then the week AFTER is an EVEN CUTER ONE I've been DYING to do—topical since that'll be my BIRTHDAY WEEK! YEAH!

Right! I think I've uh. Said enough. Too much, even. Oy vey. These tags are gonna be WILDIN. See y'all with the next scrimble Friday, and Frostmas Y9 before that! :D

7 notes · View notes

virtualplushy · 1 year ago

Note

hi so, you’re post about “we’re gonna be okay btw” changed my life a good bit, if I’m entirely honest. I am having a Bad time with life, and things aren’t going well, and I’m just not feeling very full of whimsy and joy. and I haven’t been able to fix that for years. But I dunno, that post just. made me happy. maybe that isn’t the right word, but it made me feel excruciatingly… good, I guess. like when you’re going through life and maybe not everything is great but that’s okay. it felt kind of like laying down and having a picnic in a big field with flowers and dandelions. and I really really appreciate that. The post made me cry a little to be honest, and i don’t know if there are words which exist to express how I feel about it. the best way I can explain is it felt like pastel flowers, if that makes sense. anyway, I don’t think I can ever express how grateful I am for that, either. but I’m so, so, so, so, so grateful.

oh i’m so glad!!! it can be so easy to lose our grasp on whimsy and joy. not to be like “we live in a society” but i think living in the society that we do is not like. conducive to keeping that mindset at the forefront. it’s completely understandable. sometimes we need a little nudge. i’m so glad i was able to help!!! sending love & light to you!

#✉️

22 notes · View notes

missmisfitchronicles · 1 year ago

Text

My GOmens Experience

I put off watching GO for, well, years. I can't quite pin which specific clip finally reeled me in but I'm glad that it did, WHEN it did.

The main thing I have to say is that this isn't the first of Mr. Gaiman's works that sparked a joy in me that I can't quite describe. The first of his works to awaken such a feeling in me was 'Coraline', it was full of whimsy, fun, humor, a dash of mundaneness, a bit of dread, and above all, love.

I get the same feeling from GO and I am so happy to have felt this way once again. That feeling of giddiness and wonder. The feeling of falling in love with the small things, seeing two people fall in love, hope, heartache, and the feeling of yearning.

Seeing bits and pieces of myself in these otherworldly characters is comforting; seeing glimpses of what I want to become, gives me courage and strength.

Of course, the people who bring those characters to life on the screen, play a significant part in how I perceive Mr. Gaiman's works and I absolutely love their interpretations and how they insert parts of themselves into the characters.

I can't wait to see what comes next for all the characters I've come to love or loathe (Metatron), but all good things take time.

So for now, I'll revisit the story as it is set thus far.

Thank you for the Ineffable feelings, Good Omens.

#good omens

2 notes · View notes

angelinaposting · 1 month ago

Text

since I’m reminiscing about being a teenager, here’s me going back to using this blog as a diary

i miss being a teenage girl. was it just because i was 16 without any worries except writing my next ap english essay and what i was doing for the weekend? or was the time period pre-2016/pre-2020/pre-college for me just full of more joy? did i somehow lose touch with letting myself feel happiness or are things really just worse now?

i’m thinking back to when I was saddest as a teenager and it corresponds to when i dug deepest into embracing the worst parts of myself. Sad, angry, bored, pretentious, snobbish, self-loathing and self-aggrandizing at the same time.

around the time i turned 16, i found myself embracing joy and whimsy and “cringe” and i genuinely felt better. i think i’ve somehow forgotten the teenage girl i used to be in the decade since i left high school.

during the pandemic i did a reread/re-watch of the twilight saga and i re-embraced my cringey 13 year old self who loved a sweeping romance series and made it her whole personality

and then last week i dug back into my one direction phase and re-listened to the albums that kept me sane for the back half of my high school years and i remembered how happy i was at that time, just enjoying something goofy and silly and sweet without having to defend it to anyone

i know some people that went to when we were young fest to see mcr and the other emo bands i used to love when i was 12/13/14 and i just felt a weird sense of sadness. i can't really go back to those days without remembering how sad i was and how i was coping by making myself sadder. (sidenote: it was cringe to like emo bands in middle school and i can't believe we're pretending it wasn't cringe and no one got bullied.)

i don't regret my early-teenage parasocial mcr tumblr blog because i did genuinely have fun, but i closed that chapter of my life a long time ago. i was unhealthily coping with feeling depressed and isolated and i actually really can’t stand any of their music anymore. i’ll be happy for y’all from a distance, i guess?

i did the whole indie hipster thing in high school and while it was cool to be into all the up and coming bands at the time, i think i was just desperate to be taken seriously. a lot of that music, despite having indie cred and accolades and whatnot actually sucks. it's boring and it says nothing and it's just noise. i listened to the new vampire weekend album and it's so dull. there's no passion or emotion or genuine feeling, just sad indie dudes smoking cigarettes and acting so much cooler than you. when i let myself have fun and enjoy pop music, i stopped caring about impressing some loser on reddit and instead did something totally for me for once.

the silly girly pop music and the melodramatic girly teenage vampire novels and the teenage girl i used to be is so much more fun to look back on than the pretentious sad girl i was desperate to be seen as. i wasted too much time of my adolescence convinced that i needed to be sad to be taken seriously.

i think my internal focus for the next little while is going to be keeping the teenage girl inside me alive and joyful, but also finding space to forgive my younger self for having poor coping mechanisms and caring way too much about what other people thought about me.

#this is long and kinda dumb oh well #holy run on sentence batman #can you tell i haven’t written anything longform in like 5+ years #dear diary

0 notes

awakenedmind0-0 · 2 years ago

Text

The other day I had my first proper psychedelic experience.

I took 3g of mushrooms, which for a first time at my height and weight was probably not the best idea 😂

We went on this long forest walk and when the effects kicked in I knew we had made the right choice.

At first I felt sick but I hadn’t eaten anything because I did my research and knew this was a possibility for the start of the trip and didn’t want to chunder! HOWEVER I don’t suggest doing shrooms on an empty stomach as I found it doesn’t really make you hungry and by the end of my trip I had a seizure because of my blood sugars plummeting! IMPORTANT NOTE: this accident was not caused by the shrooms I just have bad eating habits due to my ADHD so I hadn’t eaten properly for quite a while leading up to my trip, causing my seizure. I have had one a year prior due to lack of eating so I know what had caused it.

The biggest overall effect I felt was pure unfiltered happiness. you know in movies where they flash back to a happy, childhood memory and everything is bright and beautiful? Well that’s how it felt! The last time I remember partaking in the feeling of full serenity was when I was a child and had my sense of wonder and whimsy but for the first time in a long time I got to feel that again! All the colours I saw were vibrant, the grass nearly looked radioactive, and I could feel the joy flowing through me like I once did when I was unaware of the adult world. You know in TV shows and films you see hippies in floaty outfits spinning in circles, dancing with giant smiles plastered across their faces? Well that was me 😂

For part of the trip laid on the forest floor and looked up through the trees at the clouds. White smoke gently whipped off the tops of the trees, merging with the clouds to create what I can only describe as biblically accurate angels! It was made up of layers of clouds and each layer flowed in its own direction of which it never changed. Along these flowing layers were rows of eyes that moves with the flow of the layers but slowly blinked as they moved along in a chain like fashion. In the center where all the layers met, the crossing over of the layers made a circle type window. Through this window I kept seeing faces. The two that stood out to me was a golden Labrador and a woman who looked like the eskimos archeologists find frozen in the ice.

The next time I looked at the clouds, next to this big mossy tree we had found fallen over, I saw the same kind of hallucination with the eyes and flowing layers, but this time layer over it like a projector was a lotus flower. The closest I can describe it to is the Hindu style (correct me if I’m wrong) lotus flower paintings of which I will insert a picture of the closest thing I could find. The window this time was created by the lines made to make this lotus flower.

Since taking shrooms it has made me question religion under the theory of the stoned ape. It goes that supposedly our ancestors took psychoactive substances and this is how they were able to evolve and grow. This made me start questioning religion as some or most of what I experienced looked like how you would describe a biblically accurate encounter of an angel because I sure know if that had started to talk to me in a booming godly voice like they do to the Shepards in the story of Christmas, I would in fact be very afraid! Also the fact I saw patterns that I identified in other cultures I feel backs up my point further.

My question to you is this: do you think religion and psychedelics could be related?

Further question: do you think our ancestors use of psychedelics influenced what we believe in modern religions?

1 note · View note

willowbird · 3 years ago

Note

HEY for the prompt game: au 7, trope 3 (i love chaos), and very specific location 2? i'll leave the pairing up to your whimsy i just saw the combination of au and trope and HAD to request it lmao

Foxes as kids, foxes WITH kids, INSIDE ANDREW'S CLOSET.

Guys guys guys there were SO MANY WAYS I wanted to do this that my brain kinda exploded for a moment before I decided to go this route. Hope you enjoy!

---

"Oh no oh no oh no oh no!!!!!”

Andrew looked up at the ceiling, where the small, modern chandelier above the kitchen island swung in time with the distressed shouts and several ominous thumps. He looked over to where his husband was flipping pancakes and rose a single brow in question.

Neil shrugged, as if to say 'How should I know?'

A brief staring contest ensued, continued chaos still racketing upstairs. Finally, Andrew lifted one hand and curled it into a fist. Neil lifted his own, and after a brief round of rock-paper-scissors Andrew sighed to his loss and pushed away from the counter.

Neil caught the edge of his shirt as he passed him, tugging him in for a quick kiss. "I'll put extra chocolate chips in the pancakes."

"Bribery is unnecessary when you won fair and square," Andrew grumbled back.

Neil raised his eyebrows. "You turning down more chocolate? I mean okay, if you're-"

Andrew cut him off with a kiss. "Too late to take it back." Then he turned and headed out of the kitchen, only to be nearly mowed down by a wide-eyed eight-year-old.

"Watch yourself there, Kev," Andrew cautioned as he prevented the gangly child from sending them both to the ground.

The kid's big bottle-green eyes were wide with alarm. "Dad! He's going bonkers! I dunno what's wrong with him." He wrinkled his nose. "Well, there is a lot wrong with him. But I mean I don't know what's wrong with him today."

Andrew sighed, more because he was pretty sure he did know what was going rather than because he didn't. It was honestly better if Kevin just thought his brother was being weirder than usual for as long as possible. He had a feeling that if Kevin could get any leverage on his spazzy older brother he'd turn into even more of a terror than he already was.

Andrew ruffled his younger son's hair and gave him a nudge. "I'll check on him. Go help your dad with breakfast."

Kevin perked up. "Pancakes?"

"Pancakes," Andrew confirmed with a solemn nod.

"Do you think dad'll make one in the silhouette of a dead French guy?!”

"If you ask him, maybe."

That's all it took, and the kid was taking off like a shot again. Andrew watched him go, grimacing at the thought that they would probably have to enroll him in sports this year if only to help him burn off all that damned energy. He was just as bad as Neil.

A scampering upstairs followed by the slam of a door drew Andrew's attention back to matter at hand. The slammed door did not come from either of the boys' rooms, but rather the opposite end of the hall, where Neil and Andrew's room was. In all, this wasn't all that surprising - at least not when it came to his fourteen-year-old. He'd been hiding in Andrew and Neil's closet whenever he got particularly upset since he was four and Neil had performed a "magic ritual" to make the closet a "bunker against all evil".

Andrew climbed the steps and made his way down the hall, stopping once he came to the closed closet door. From inside he could hear the muffled mutterings of an anxious teenager. He lifted a hand and knocked with just two knuckles.

When there was no answer, he knocked again and asked, voice mild, "Can I come in?"

Then he waited, giving his son time to process that he was here for him, whatever the issue was. Almost a full minute passed before a tight, watery voice said, "Y-you can come in."

Permission granted, Andrew swung open the door to find Nicky curled up in the corner, cheeks flushed and brown eyes full of tears. Nicky was technically Andrew's much younger cousin on his biological mother's side, but he and Neil had adopted him when, at two, DCFS took him away from his parents due to a severe case of neglect. The first few years had been tense - because Luther and Maria had tried to fight it - but Andrew's adoptive mother was a child psychologist and Neil's foster sister a renowned family lawyer.

Even without the connections they would have fought to the death to keep Nicky, though. From the second they brought him home, he was theirs, and they were the only real parents the boy had ever known.

"H-hey pops," Nicky stammered through a poorly-attempted smile.

Andrew waved away the bravado and took a seat next to his son. "Should I talk to Grandpa Wymack about getting us a bigger closet? We aren't both going to fit in here much longer," he said lightly, a soft opening for Nicky to tell him what had him so upset.

Nicky laughed, a more genuine sound, then sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. "N-no. I'm sorry. I just..."

Andrew shook his head to stop him. "I would rather pay to have the closet expanded than take away a place you feel safe when you are upset."

As he watched, tears filled Nicky's eyes again, then he launched forward and it was honestly probably a good thing that the closet was a tight fit, otherwise Andrew might have gotten knocked over by the force of the hug. As it were, he was able to catch his son, patting his back only slightly awkwardly as Nicky let out a choked sob and began to ramble:

"..and then I told him that I liked his EARS oh my god Pops I am such a MORON why couldn't I tell him that I liked his eyes like a normal human or even that I liked his mouth or something!? That's sexy right? Oh my god this is terrible. And then! AND THEN I went and I liked about ten of his posts IN A ROW LIKE A CREEP and he NOTICED and then he MESSAGED ME and oh my god I can never show my face again.."

There was very little that Andrew could do other than listen, so that was what he did. As he did, though, he felt a warmth pool in his chest. A warmth that his son felt so safe and comfortable in his and Neil's space that he came here to hide when he felt upset. A warmth that he felt so comfortable, so safe with Andrew that he invited him into that space with him. That his son would cling to him and ramble about his boy problems without fear of judgement. That the biggest problems Nicky had right now were typical teenaged woes, not all the horrors that both Andrew and his husband were far too aware of existing in the world.

"I just don't know what to DO. Oh my god my life is OVER," Nicky finished with a flourish, pulling back and looking up at him with wide dark eyes.

After a thoughtful pause, Andrew finally gave a hum and said, "Well, that depends."

"Depends?"

Andrew shrugged. "Does he really have cute ears?"

Nicky made and high, defeated sound, burying his face in his hands. "They are ADORABLE, Pops. A-dor-a-ble."

"Ah." Andrew nodded his understanding and patted his son on the shoulder. "Then I think that definitely calls for extra chocolate chips in the pancakes."

And, because Nicky was a teenaged boy with boy problems - but he was also still a teenaged boy (and moreover, he was Andrew's son), his head went up and his eyes brightened. "Chocolate chips."

"And whipped cream."

"Oh!" Nicky scrambled to his feet and bounded out of the closet with a flourish, only to come up short when Andrew snagged the back of his shirt.

"And Nicky, those crashes from before..?"

Nicky blushed brightly and glanced out the bedroom door toward his own room and quickly back again. "Um.. I'll clean up after breakfast?"

Andrew put on his most impactful Dad Stare, then gave a firm nod before letting go. "You better. Now hurry on before Kevin eats them all."

Nicky yelped in an entirely new kind of distress, all but sprinting out of the room. "KEVIN DON'T YOU DARE YOU LITTLE MONSTER!"

Andrew watched him go and didn't bother to stop the smile that crawled onto his face from a hidden chamber somewhere in the center of his heart. There was once a time he might have resisted it, when he was younger and wounded and angry, his teeth bared against a world that had only ever hurt him. Now, though? Now there was so much fierce, protective warmth inside of him - so much pride, so much adoration, so much love, that he no longer saw the expression of joy as a sign of weakness.

Shouts and scuffling downstairs pulled him out of his thoughts and he sighed to himself, but he was still wearing the smile as he headed down to breakfast.

#aftg prompts #asks #aftg #aftg fanfic #andrew and neil as dads #because i can #don't @ me #idc if it seems OOC #these are fun fluffy ficlets of randomness

40 notes · View notes

apocalypticwafflekitten · 4 years ago

Text

Northern Lights

Maul x Reader

A/N: I’m back at it again with another Maul fic! This is a cute idea that was suggested to me by @justalittlecloud! I needed and idea and they didn’t let me down! I kind of made up a story for the Northern Lights in the Star Wars Universe since I couldn’t find anything with a quick search. Did I take beats from Romeo and Juliet? Yes. And did I take inspiration from an Estonian myth? Absolutely. I just hope it’s a good story! ALSO! If you’d like to be tagged in my Starwars, or Maul-specific writings, or any other writings that I post, feel free to let me know!

Original Imagine/Summary Kinda Thingy: Maul is curious about the Northern Lights!

Warings: None, just cute, sweet, cotton-candy fluff!

Word Count: 2,322.....this was supposed to be short.....whoops.....

“Come on Maul! It’s just a few feet further! We just have to cross this little creek, and get through that bit of underbrush ahead of us.” You explained excitedly as you all but drug Maul up the side of the mountain.

“My love, I know that you know what you’re doing, but are you absolutely sure that we’re going to the right place? This seems pretty out of the way, and we lost the trail a while back.” Maul stopped walking and pointed behind him, taking you by surprise.

You turned and snickered at him with a smile.

“Of course hun! I wouldn’t just take you to some random planet and travel far off a mountain trail if I didn’t know what I was doing! I’ve done this a thousand times dear. It is my home planet after all. And my favorite place on that planet no less.” You gave Maul a smirk, and he gave you an unsure look.

“Alright. I trust you, but if you get us lost, I’ll hold it over you until the day we die.” He joked with scrutiny, pointing an accusing finger at you. Still, beneath his uncertainty, he could feel your excitement and certainty through the force, and it sent a endeared warmth through his chest. You were so cute when you were excited.

“We won’t get lost dear. I promise! We’re almost there!”

You smiled as he gave in, and let you take his hand again to lead him.

You and Maul had been married for a year now. Today was your anniversary, and you wanted to do something special for him. You had to admit that coming to your home planet was a little personal pleasure just for you, but you wanted to share it with Maul, and show him something you knew he would never forget. And where better than your favorite spot in the galaxy (besides at his side of course)?

When you pushed away the last of the underbrush Maul’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened. Before him lay paradise. From the top of the cliff he could see the emerald, mountainous valley for miles. The river than ran through was thin and shining like a silver ribbon under the night sky. And that sky. He had never seen so many stars in his life. Never had darkness been so beautiful.

He was brought back to you by your chiming giggle. He didn’t even realize that you had let go of his hand, and sat on a blanket you had laid out presumably hours before you had brought him here. He closed his mouth which had fallen open at the sight of this paradise. He hadn’t realized that had happened either.

As Maul joined you on the blanket, you smiled to him. You were surrounded by soft light from the many little candles you had lit around you. The glowing light brushed your cheek with gold, and shined off the silk dress you wore. For a moment he forgot about the valley and the stars. You were so beautiful. Enchanting and alluring in this paradise.

You giggled again, amused by his stunned silence.

“I was much the same the first time I saw this place. It’s gorgeous during the day, but the night makes this place indescribable. The glittering stars, and the silver river. It’s like magic. It’s paradise for me.”

Maul was finally able to gather his thoughts into some semblance of a coherent sentence. There was so much he wanted to say, and it all wanted to spill out at once.

“This place is...you’re...everything here is just....perfect.” He said, “Everything here is perfect.”

He breathed out, looking from the valley, to you again with all the adoration in the galaxy.

Joy beamed through you and through your smile. Maul felt it wave through the force as you hugged him. He melted. He fell into the hug, and all but crushed you. Maybe, if he hugged you tight enough, you would be able to feel all the love, appreciation, adoration, devotion, and everything else he felt for you in it’s full measure. If only words could be passed from skin to skin.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” He murmured into the crook of your neck.

“Of course my love. Only the best for our anniversary.”

Maul pulled away with a suspicious look.

“You’ve had this planned for months haven’t you?” He teased, knowing full well your meticulous tendencies.

You chuckled, and pulled away to look him in the eyes, hands slacking around his neck to rub the skin at the base of his neck.

“Perhaps.” You gave him a mischievous look paired with a smirk.

“The cutest smirk in the galaxy.” He thought.

He laughed at your ambiguous response, though he knew the real answer.

“Well, then I will happily enjoy whatever it is you have planned my dear.” He said as he pulled you in close beside him. You merely smiled at him in a way that said that you were indeed hiding something.

He had his suspicions about your plan. There was certainly something he wanted to do tonight, though that could wait if need be. He wondered what exactly it was that you were so excited to show him. What could make this paradise better? He never could have guessed what was in store for him.

“Don’t worry love. That which I want to show you will show up soon.” You promised, “Until then...”

You held his face, and turned his gaze from the stars to you.

For the first time tonight, he really looked at you. His eyes met yours, soft and deep as he watched you, memorizing the colors of your irises and the candlelight glowing within them. His eyes wandered slowly to follow the curve of your cheek, and when he reached your lips, his thumb brushed gently against them. His eyes didn’t leave your lips until you looked down, bashful because of his intense gaze.

“Hey,” he cupped your jaw with his hand, and gently nudged you to look up at him, “Don’t look away from me.”

His whisper sent a shutter down your spine and sharp inhale through your lips.

He stayed there. Staring at you with adoration and a little something more.

There was a beat of silence before he took a shaky, laboured breath in.

“May I?”

His voice was breathy; desperate and he cupped your cheek, glowing with candlelight.

You chuckled a little, and looked into his wanting eyes.

“Of course you can my love. We’re married remember. You don’t have to ask every time you want to kiss me.” Your hand held his to your face as you smiled back up at him.

His lips crashed to yours. They melded together as though they were made for each other long ago when the universe was first born. Your hands reached out to hold his handsome face.

His touch traveled to your waist, and ran up your sides, pulling your frame in to press against him. He could feel the silhouette of your body beneath the silk of your gown. His hands wandered and rubbed at the fabric, feeling it wrinkle under his fingertips, barely protecting you from his searing touch. Oh how he wanted you to touch him. He wanted to feel your skin on his, your hands on his bare chest. Your lips on his neck. Oh he needed you to cool the burning desire in his soul.

But before he could make his desires known, he felt you begin to pull away. His lips followed yours, unwilling to let you go. He tightened his hand around your waist and gave a disappointed whimper at your persistence. He never wanted to stop kissing you.

You chuckled into his kiss, and held him back by his shoulder.

“I know my love. I’d adore to kiss you more, but there’s something I have to show you...Look off to the horizon.” You whispered to him, pointing out to the edge of the world.

He pouted, but he was curious, as always, so Maul turned his head and when he saw what lay on the horizon, his eyes blew wide, and your smile grew wider.

“Wha-what is it?” His smooth voice was filled with wonder at what he saw.

The night sky had grown darker. Deeper. The stars were still shining, but cutting through that darkness, and through the stars were bright, beautiful ribbons of lights, cascading down to the horizon. Blues and greens danced between the mountains, and the river ran silver below.

“It’s called Aurora Borealis. The Northern Lights.” You explained, endeared by his curiosity.

“It’s beautiful.” He whispered.

He was transfixed. His eyes were filled with whimsy, and for the first time in a long while, he smiled as wide he could, and he didn’t think of anything else. The hues from the sky mirrored in his eyes, and you couldn’t look away from them if you wanted to.

“What are they?” His voice pulled you from your state of admiration.

You blinked and collected your thoughts.

“Do you want the scientific answer, or the legend I was always told.” You asked.

“Either.” His voice was breathy again, but this time it was filled with wonder; He still hadn’t looked away. He looked at the sky the way he looked at you.

“I’ll start with the legend then.” You smiled, and scooted closer to Maul, laying your head on his shoulder, your arm reaching up to rub his back, “The story goes that there were once two lovers who were bonded by the Force. Their love ran stronger than any in the galaxy,” You noticed Maul grimace in reaction, and you huffed in amusement, knowing full well his opinion on that detail, “But despite the strength of their love, they were forbidden to be together. He was a nobleman, and she was a slave girl who served his mother. So, for many years they hid their love until the nobleman was married off to a princess whom he did not love, and made to move to her home planet. The slave girl was heartbroken, as was the nobleman, but they promised never to forget one another. And their promises held. So, as a reward, when the two had lived their lives, and passed on from this world, the Force reunited their spirits, and they were wed in the afterlife. The lights you see are their spirits, travelling together for eternity, followed by the celestial spirits, and beings that celebrated along with them. They travel the sky and bless those who see them with a love strong enough to last through life and death and beyond. You explained before releasing a happy sigh,“That’s how my parents always explained it to me. I loved that story.”

Maul took a second to look at you, his eyes holding only admiration.

“That’s beautiful my love. It reminds me of you.”

“Of me?” You asked, cocking your head in curiosity.

“Of course.” He stated, looking back to the ribbons of light before continuing, “The way you love me, it transcends this galaxy. Your love is that strong. That true. And you show me that every day you stay beside me. Even beside that, like the lights, getting to see you, even just once, is enough to leave one wanting for a lifetime. And getting to see you every day? Your light never dims. You could never dim.”

Maul kept his eyes glued to the lights. He may be married to you, and tonight may be your anniversary, but when those words fell from his mouth, he couldn’t look to you. Embarrassment warmed his face. In all the time you had been together, he still had trouble letting his heart spill from his lips. But when you turned his face towards you with a gentle palm on his hand, he knew that his words were more than welcome.

He saw tears in your eyes, but these weren’t tears of sorrow. No. He could feel your overwhelming gratitude and love and admiration for him crashing into him. He knew you could feel his love as well.

“I love you.” You whispered before pulling him in, and kissing him with your whole heart.

“I love you too,” He breathed between kisses, “I have always loved you. The minute I set eyes on you I needed you to be by my side. My heart begged your name when we met, and since then I have never wanted any other word to fall from my lips. You are the light in this universe. You are every star. Every sun. Every planet. You make my dark soul feel beautiful.”

“It’s because you are beautiful my love.” You cooed, tracing his jaw with your finger, and following his tattoos with your eyes, “You’re calming like the ebbing of waves on a shore. When I hear your voice, it’s a soft lullaby. I remember, when we met, it was your voice that caught my attention. It never seemed to match your reputation. I couldn’t get enough of it, and to this day, I still can’t. WHen I hear you say my name, my world stops and everything is perfect.” You huffed a laugh as your eyes flitted from his jaw to his own eyes.

“I can’t believe I was lucky enough to marry you.” Maul whispered to you, although you were alone.

“I can’t believe I was lucky enough to meet you!” You smile at him through a laugh with endearment shining in your eyes.

“You’re the world to me my love. The galaxy.”

“And you’re the galaxy to me.”

Maul kissed you softly before turning his gaze once more to the Northern Lights. He loved you. His wife. His rock. And he would love you through life and beyond. That was a guarantee, and promise he would never, ever break.

Tags!

@justalittlecloud, and @fanficsforheartandsoul !

Feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged!

#i really like this one #darth maul x reader #darth maul imagine #darth maul #star wars #i made myself emotional while writing this #i just.....dang I love maul #i hope yall love this too

64 notes · View notes

sgt-morgan · 4 years ago

Text

Lucky Kentucky ch. 1

Chapter 2

Hello there, this is my new Rockstar!Bucky x Reader fic. It was heavily inspired by my love of seventies mega rockstars, Almost Famous, Classic Rock, and a little bit of personal whimsy. I hope you enjoy, and read responsibly.

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ : cussing, sexy times, drugs, booze, smoking, objectification, fornication, liberation, and a litany of other sordid topics and traumas.

Your name didn’t matter, at least not so far as you could tell. They called you Kentucky, sometimes if they felt cheeky, Bluegrass. You liked it, the first band that gave you that name was some shitty college band out of Detroit. They were convinced they were gonna be the next Led Zepplin. They called it quits three years later, a good old fashioned Rock n’ Roll suicide, booze, women, and drugs. The finer things always gets the best amateurs. However, their lead singer had a way with words, he came up with the nickname. He also wrote a beautiful song about a girl named Kentucky, who he just couldn’t swing, some big named country superstar sang the song and the last you’d heard he had been writing for the best of the best since. This earned you your title, Lucky Kentucky. A bit on the nose for your taste, but it made perfect sense. You kept following the music, you went to a band in L.A., the day you left, they signed a record deal with Sony. The next was a little English girl and her backing band, her first tour of England with you landed her a tour of the US faster than they could say ‘Burbon.’

You are what is known in the music business as a road manager, so far as you could tell, this was the job you were born to do. You made schedules, you supplied booze and other artifacts, you got hotels, paid off paparazzi, packed busses, and shoved half out of their mind rock stars on to stages in more countries than you could count, you couldn’t imagine any better life. You were the best of the best, you were who the record company called when everyone else had given up. You were a fixer, and an incredibly talented one at that. You had a gift for taking a mediocre side show band, and turning them into headliners.

So when you got the call from Tony and Pepper that you had to fix The Howling Comandos, you were shocked. They were big time, nothing like your usual fixer upper opener that you could make insta stars. They certainly weren’t your crowd, but you always had a problem saying no to Pepper, Tony’s company manager. Tony was a talented mixer, and a gifted album technician. So when he started his own label, it blew up pretty quickly. The comandos were the first band he signed. They had won Album of the Year their first Grammy season without even batting an eyelash. So once business started booming, Pepper took over the paper work, and Tony did what he did best, Fucking around with a mixing board. You had met them when you started working with Natasha and the Widows, a Blondie style punk outfit. They had a pension for eating men alive. Eventually, it got in the way of their success, so you stepped in and saved the band from total destruction. You and the starks had been thick as theives since.

“Tony, you mean to tell me, that the Commandos, the biggest artists of the decade, need my help?” You scoffed down the line, checking the Widows out of the last hotel of their tour with Greta Van Fleet.

“Yes Bluegrass, I do. Barnes is going through some existential heart break shit ‘cause ole bitch called of the wedding, and fucked the Guitarist of their opener. He’s been all drugs, booze, and sappy shit since, and someone’s gotta get the mother fucker back on stage. I’m Loosing money here Kentucky, something’s gotta give.” Tony sounded livid, there were very few times where Tony was as frazzled as this, so you knew it was serious.

“Alright, but I have conditions.” You sighed, you thought you could hear the sound of Pepper weeping tears of joy, but you couldn’t be sure. “I want the Widows to open, I’m not done with them yet Stark they’ve got some potential that still needs to be tapped. I want Frankie on security, I want Wanda for wardrobe and makeup, I want Vision for my techie, and I’m taking Peter as my Head roadie.” It was a big ask, but if you were doing this, you were gonna need the best possible team.

“Jeez woman, rob the treasure chest would yah? You want all of them? You just asked me for the entire roster. They’re on other tours! I can’t just- HEY! Woman don’t you-“ you heard a slap and an ow, and suddenly you were with the one and only Pepper Potts- Stark.

“Kentucky? You have a deal. You can have the Allstars in three months, everyone’s tours should be wrapping up, that puts you just in time for festival season. You up to it?” Pepper sounded like someone had just kicked her puppy. So you knew, you were the only one that could save the day.

“Virginia? Count me in. Give me the three months to plan and connect with the team and I’ll make sure James Barnes makes it onto that bus.” You could practically taste her relief through the receiver. What had you just signed up for.

————————————————————————

You’d done it. Six months, 7 bus rentals, 75 hotels, 107 plane rides, 20 festivals, 95 shows, 89 cities, and roughly 200 people later, you had managed to construct the American leg of one of the biggest and longest tours you had ever seen. All it took was two months, and 23 bottles of Jack Daniels, and you had done it. Now all you had to do was meet the band, and have your first tour meeting.

You had never been so nervous to meet a group of men in your life. Normally, these meetings we’re pretty laid back and informal. Lots of getting to know you, and goofing off. This time, you were in charge of a multi-million dollar tour that could make or break the band of the decades d ruin your career. No pressure. Needless to say, you were fairly nervous.

You were relieved upon arrival that the first people to make it in were the people who seemed to be the most reliable. Vision and Wanda were quietly whispering to eachother in the corner as always, their hands gently intertwined as they surveyed the rest of their new subjects. Frankie was standing off in another corner looking like an immovable brick wall. His sunglasses firmly in place on his nose, looking scary as always. Peter was off with the widows flirting with their drummer. You didn’t think it would end well, seeing as MJ was a bit of a hot head, and Peter was akward and nerdy, but to your surprise, they seemed to be getting along swimmingly. Natasha and Carol were staring at a book full of something, if you had to guess, it would be song lyrics of some variety, and to your shock and absolute awe, Peggy had saddled up to Steve Rogers. Steve was the guitarist of the Commandos, and he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her company. Tony and Pepper were chatting with Clint and Sam the drummer and bassist of the Commandos, and Bruce Banner, your newly appointed second hand. James Barnes was nowhere to be seen.

“Well, well, good to see that most of you have arrived early!” You smirked walking to the head of the table with your big box of tour folders, Peter moving instantly to help you. “If I have not yet made your acquaintance, I am Kentucky, just Kentucky, you may call me Bluegrass or Lucky, but I will always prefer Kentucky. It has come to my immediate attention, that you sorry suckers were in need of a fantastic road manager, and here I am.” You survey the room as you spoke taking into account every face that you could see in the room and making sure everyone was following. “Now, where is James?”

————Some unnamed bar across town ————

Bucky’s head pounded. Wether it was from the booze or the pounding music he had no clue, but he could tell that it was far too early to be in this booth.

“You really went for it last night Barnes,” Bucky looks for the source of the voice to find that, Luke Cage, owner of the best bar in LA, was unloading boxes of tequila into his storage cabinets under the bar. “You shouldn’t have either, you’re late for your tour meeting.”

Bucky absorbed the information, and felt it melt out of his brain as if it were nothing more than an irritating ear worm. “How do you know about that?” He sighed running a hand down his face and slowly standing to grab his leather jacket.

“It’s sharpied onto your arm,” Luke chuckled pointing to Bucky’s right arm in just about the only clean space someone could fine. “Steve came in and did it last night before giving about a hundred dollars to let you sleep it off in that booth.”

“Of course he did,” Bucky scoffed, “the punk never knew when to leave well enough alone.” Bucky quickly slipped his sunglasses over his aching eyes, as he watched Luke slide a cup of coffee across the bar. “Goodbye Luke, your bar is the only thing I’m gonna miss about this town.”

“Goodbye Bucky, the free live music, and the fantastic tips are all I’m going to miss about you boys. I’ll tell Jess you said hello.” And with that final fond farewell, Bucky left Luke’s bar for the last time before he was trapped in a tour bus for six months.

The drive to Stark Records was as second nature to him as tying his shoes. He easily glided in between cars, making record time to his place of employment. He parked his bike next to a slot that occupied the sweetest little red corvette he’s seen in a good while. The tune in the reference catches his brain and he starts to whistle the chorus, wishing the artist formerly known as Prince was still around. He walked past Sharon, the desk clerk, giving her his customary wink and a smirk, stealing a sucker out of her candy dish and wandering into the meeting.

That’s when he saw her, the hottest piece of ass this side of the sunset strip. She looked powerful, she looked commanding, she was covered in tattoos and wearing the best looking little black number. She was saying his name. “Where is James?”

“Right here sweet thing, I hope I’m not too late to the party, I’d hate to miss anything that came out of that pretty little mouth.” Boy was it pretty, the full lips covered in a red shade that he could only seem to imagine smeared all over her moth as she panted his name.

“Ah, yes there he is. Hello, James. Just in time to-”

“James is my dad sugar, I’m sure we can think of something a little more clever for you to-”

“Alright then Junior if you don’t mind, I’m trying to conduct a meeting, and I will not be letting a drunken moron interupt my carefully planned work flow.”

Bucky’s jaw snapped shut as the people around him, some friends and some strangers, laughed at the clever lady’s little barb.

“Alright then, as I was saying, I’m here to help. I believe in the Peter Grant method of representation. The you-have-a-venue-you-want-it-filled-I-have-just-the-band-sixty-forty method.” She said, flipping her hair into a simple bun on the top of her head, which Bucky couldn’t find more attractive if he tried, “I have made hotel arrangements for every show, I have made bus arrangements, I have planned for added shows, and delayed dates. I have brought you the best opener I have, the best artists, roadies, security, and technicians I could scrape together, and most importantly, I have given you my time and my trust. I can make your touring life as easy and as simple as humanly possible, or I could ruin it. However, all I want is to get you out there, grinding again, reminding your fans the reason they love you. All you have to do, is let me work, and focus on the music. Can we do that?”

“Doll? I like the way you think.”

“Junior? It’s gonna be a long fucking six months.”

35 notes · View notes

timeforelfnonsense · 4 years ago

Text

Between Heaven & Hell

Astarion x Dafni

Rating: M (no spice but its mentioned)

Ao3

Inaleth Sweet is a D&D oc belonging to one of my dear friends @ladyofthelatke from one of our old games. We were talking about Dafni liking romance novels and realized she'd be a fan of Inaleth. A fun little easter egg! The name of Dafni's book was also brainstormed by our D&D party! I don't know that I love the ending but meh!

Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series

Downtime for Dafni had become rare and fleeting in the past few days. Not that she mined being busy! She’d never been much good at sitting still. Her mind moved from thought to thought as quick as a hummingbird’s wing. A life of adventure rather agreed with her breezy disposition, that was a silver lining among the mess at least. But she found herself road-weary and overextended. Perhaps it was the tadpole or the fact she’d been in more battles in two days than she had in the last year. She couldn’t be sure. Either way, a little idle time would be good for her.

She was lounging on her belly in a grassy patch on the river bank, idly flipping through the dog-eared pages of a novel bound in soft pink leather, Between Heaven and Hell scrawled across the cover in faded gold lettering. It was a rather risqué account of an amours elf torn between the affection of her aasimar and a tiefling suiters. The first in a series penned by one Inaleth Sweet of Waterdeep - A fellow eladrin and personal favorite author of Dafni’s. She’d read it dozens of times but it never failed to enchant and intrigue her.

She’d always enjoyed reading. It was the only time she could bring herself to be (mostly) still. She could lose herself in the colorful whimsy of her imagination. She’d always been a romantic. Her headful of silly daydreams of love and adventure from a tender age. She had spent days on end in her village imagining what the world might be like beyond the shelter of Peleira and the familiar forests and shores of Faerie-Gwynneth. Books provided her wanderlust an outlet in the years before she crossed into the Material.

A pale hand snatched the book from her hands pulling her back to reality. Astarion glanced down at her with a mischievous grin, raising a singular angled brow. She clumsily fumbled to her knees attempting to reclaim it from him but Astarion simply raised the novel out of her reach.

He looked almost ethereal, shrouded in the soft, peachy glow of sunset as he flipped through his stolen prize. His loose undershirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel showing off his lanky feline-esque physique. It was completely unfair for him to be that gorgeous! Somehow he managed to mix boyish charm with noble dignity. She imagined Astarion was very much the kind of man humans pictured when they talked about the peerless beauty and grace of the elves.

“My, my, Daffodil, I never pegged you as a consumer of salacious novels. Aren’t you just full of surprises?” He said through a chuckle as he began to thumb through the pages, “You fold the corners of your books? And I thought I was despicable!”

He might have been from the Material Plane but he had that spark of mirth common to those hailing from her homeland. It was a welcome change of pace. She’d found he could be quite charming (when he wasn’t being surly or aloof). He’d taken to treating her with teasing endearment as of late. He would refer to her by little diminutives such as darling or dear. That was when he wasn’t calling her by that twee pet name, Daffodil. She knew that the majority of his doting was little more than suave twaddle but she couldn’t help but be won over by him.

There were things about himself he’d clearly chosen not to disclose. She was never one for secrets but she could hardly begrudge others for having them. Astarion’s omissions were likely connected to whatever had made him so prickly in the first place. She was curious of course but she wasn’t going to press him for anything he was unwilling to give. Dafni understood relationships much the same way she did gardens. Both required patience and dedication in order for something beautiful to flourish. She earnestly hoped a genuine friendship could blossom between them but that meant allowing him to open up to her in his own time no matter how badly she wanted to bombard him with a-million-and-one questions.

“What have I done to deserve this roguery?”

“Roguery?” Astarion snickered.

“Roguery.” She repeated. “Now find your own way to pass the time and give me mine back!”

Her brows stitched, her lower lip forming that perfect little pout of hers. She was trying very hard to appear cross but her eyes gave her away. They were sparkling with impish delight as she made another valiant effort at retrieving the silly thing. Despite her tilt towards clemency, Dafni was a bit of a puck.

“This is my way of passing the time. I can only wander among the trees so many times before the novelty wears off. Besides, making you blush is far more entertaining.”

Dafni snorted a blite smile forming at the corners of her plump lips, “You are incorrigible, you know that right?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Well, I suppose if you are that bord I could read to you?” She yanked the book from his hands, clutching it to her chest smug and victorious. Reaching out with her free hand to tap a finger on the tip of his nose. “But, I’m skipping all the dirty bits!”

“Spoilsport.”

“It’s that or walking around the woods for the hundredth time.”

“You do raise an excellent point.” He sighed carefully arranging himself on the grass beside her, “Very well, I’ll agree to your stipulations.”

“Just be glad I’m not going to make you read for one of the characters! And because I’m just so sweet I’ll even start from the beginning for you.”

He listened intently as Dafni delivered the tale as if she were performing a one-woman play. Her face was adorably expressive as she changed her voice with each new character. Messy curls bouncing with every animated gesture. Occasionally she’d trail off feigning horror at the ‘dirty bits’ as she called them.

What would lewd words have sounded like in her lilt voice? Part of him wanted to find out right then. That wasn’t the first time such musings had crossed his mind. Dafni had made a few appearances in his private thoughts since their meeting. She had a coy, maidenly allure that conjured up all kinds of tempting images. These were nothing more than flights of fancy but fun nonetheless. Just another benefit of keeping her around.

He found himself lingering around her almost on instinct. The joy that followed her was tangible and warm as the sun on his skin. When she was near his mind felt quieted and the fear that gnawed at him would soften just a tad. He had grown to genuinely enjoy her company. He’d expected her to be dull and overly pious. Instead, he found she was rather amusing, coquettish even. She was witty and observant, always having a playful quip at the ready. The sort of whimsical woman whose effortless charm drew people in. She would have made an excellent vampire if not for her ridiculous soft heart.

Her compulsive need to care for every living thing with a sob story was somewhat vexing but he could hold his nose and deal with it most days. He’d make a comment here and there but really that was for her own good. She was painfully naïve, always seeing the best in people. It was clear to him Dafni’s life had been gentle. Free of hardships that might have taught her to approach others with such little skepticism.

A part of him was grateful for her lack of suspension. He knew gaining the trust of at least one of the members of the party would be crucial if he intended to enjoy the benefits of traveling with a group long term. Her friendship and propensity for peace making provided him with no small measure of safety. Still, that safety was at risk if she continued to offer herself up on a silver platter to every soul with even the smallest tale of woe she came across.

He glanced over at her, a found (begrudging, but found nonetheless), smile on his lips. The last rays of the setting sun casting its light on her lovely cherubic profile. While his motivations for befriending her had been far from altruistic having her near made his life provable better. When they’d first met he’d assumed her kindness would come at a price but she had surprised him, wanting nothing but his company in exchange. Without thinking he reached out cupping her cheek in his hand. The freckles, sage skin was unbearably soft and warm against his cool palm. Her heartbeat quickened bringing his attention to the tantalizing, wildflower sent of her blood. She leaned in close her eyes fluttering closed-

“We should head back to the others, it’s getting dark.” Astarion muttered, pulling back from her.

“I- Ha, of course. It’s late…” Her lower lip was caught in her teeth, her eyes darting ever so quickly from his mouth back to his eyes.

As tempting as she might be he was already in too deep with her. If he kissed her, he’d only want more. Any change to the current dynamic could disrupt the fragile safety he’d acquired. He couldn’t put himself at risk for the temporary happiness she might have brought. Perhaps when things were more settled. When he knew he could afford the risk, he would know the taste of her lips. For now though, he would have to resist.

#elf writes #astarion #bg3 early access #dafni of gwynneth #bg3 oc

14 notes · View notes

fiction-in-my-blood · 4 years ago

Text

The Bewitching Hour Part 1 (SITS Smut) Kyohei x MC

I’m thinking of turning this into a series with all the guys in it, so if you enjoy, stay tuned :)!

Warnings: Fingering, Sex

~~~~~~

Work had been trouble lately. Not only was the ghostwriter severely struggling with doing her own job, a lot of the Revance members were on edge because of it. Takashi’s Demon Mode had been making more frequent appearances and many worried for their own safety, few also worrying for the only woman in the house. Not only that, The morning the producer woke up, there was a stranger in their kitchen.

“Who the hell are you and how did ya get in my house?” Kyohei roared at the half naked, rejectfully majestic man that stood at his fridge, peering at the contents like they were going to put themselves together for his breakfast. The man didn’t seem much phased by the shock of one of the inhabitants of the house that wasn’t his, he found it amusing, that showed on the smirky, mysterious grin that appeared on his face when he turned around.

“Hey, man, don’t worry about it, I spent the night.” The admission did nothing to ease Sir Kyo’s suspicion, instead making him more pissed off in the early hour. No one would be a morning person if this is what they had to deal with first thing.

However, before he could argue, demanding him to explain, a high whine came from the far end of the room. “Mitsu~, I told you not to come down until I was ready.” The strangely provacative yet shy call of the young woman, merely dressed in an overbearing sweater and shorts, hair a mess after the activities she had partaken in the past night, shocked the other resident.

“But, my dear, you were taking too long. I was getting a different type of hungry.” The man, surely older than her but a gentlemanly youth about him, cooed, a teasing smirk forming on his lips as he remembered what he had been hungry for only a few hours before this conversation. Masami blushed.

“They call it a walk of shame for a reason, Mistu. Get your stuff before anyone else wakes up.” She crossed her arms in defiance, the brunt of her configuration halted by the notebook she held in one hand. Kyohei recognised it as her writing journal.

“Okay, I guess I can get dressed. Unless you want to keep something for future uses?” The man with fair hair long enough to be pulled back into a long pontail sauntered over to the ghostwriter, leaning over her to steal her lips. Before he could catch them, however, he was blocked by a wad of paper.

“No kissing, Mitsu. It’s in the agreement.” She sighed, almost exhausted with having to remind him all the time. The roll of her innocent eyes didn’t go unnoticed by the slightly distracted producer.

“Hello. What the hell is going on here?” A little pissed with having such a rude introduction, Kyohei made himself known to the couple. The fact he would soon learn about some of her stress relieving habits brought a blush to Masami’s cheeks, trying to hide them with her hand as Mitsu chuckled to himself beside her.

“I-I have those lyrics done, Kyohei. Read through them when you’re ready!” The ball of red quickly made her exit after slapping her notebook on the coffee table in the living area. Mitsu couldn’t help but enjoy the sight Kyohei would usually also be happy to see.

“There’s nothing to fear, sir. Just a trade in professions. You may like the use my services too one day.” With the way Mitsu’s been acting in this extraordinary scenario, Kyohei couldn’t tell what he was suggesting. What was this man’s profession and what did it have to do with Masami?

“If you’d like to see my portfolio, I’d love to comission if you find it desirable.” Only now did Kyohei spot the large art pad held to Mitsu’s body with his arm as he continued to rest his hands in his pockets.

“You’re an artist?” Kyohei, significantly cooled compared to moments ago, grew slightly curious to the man’s offer.

“And Miss Mami is my muse, and I her’s. We arranged it years ago.” The nickname rolled off with such ease it showed how close the two must be. Kyohei almost felt jealous just talking to the man.

“Show me.” He demanded, wanting more to see what had impressed the girl so much to have the obvious relationship they had together. This made that mirthful chuckle reverberate from Mitsu’s chest once again. Despite the clear irritation on the producer’s face, he placed his sketchpad on the kitchen counter and opened it up. Kyohei’s eyes went wide at the images before him.

Pages upon pages of naked women, mostly Masami, framed in comprimising positions, always a lewd look in their eyes. The drawings seemed so realistic, Kyohei almost felt like he was there when it was created, even if they were just sketches- mainly black and white. The one that really caught his eye was the masterpiece on the back page. It was Masami, on her back with her knees pressed to her chest, feet up and vulva on full display. He looked away, an intolerant blush surfacing on his cheeks.

“I’ll say, my most recent piece is my favourite. Masami surely was in her creative flow last night.” A look of pure pride overtook what his usual expression seemed to be as he gazed upon the picture of his business partner. She seemed too innocent most of the time, it was only Mitsu who ever got to see this side of her.

“Creative flow?” Kyohei was drawn by the odd explanation for such a drawing, his gaze following the man as he ripped the page out with little regard to his other pieces.

“You don’t know of her Bewitching Hour? And how long has she lived here?” A tone of pity mixed with amusement filtered out of his mouth as he placed the sheet of paper on the counter before closing his book once again.

“Like any woman, Masami is a powerful being. Sometimes her talent gets too much for her and she can’t seem to let it out at all. She gets so pent up sometimes, I’m man enough to admit even I can’t satiate her creativity.” Mitsu laughed on the memory of an irritated Masami climbing off his lap with a heavy sigh of not being able to pleasure herself with his body. He didn’t mind, he had those nights too, it was the joy of their agreement that made him so confident in his abilities.

“But what’s a Bewitching Hour?” Kyohei was beyong interest by now. For months he had wanted to her his hands on the innocent cutie that lived under his roof. This might finally be his chance.

“It’s just my term for it. She does her best work, in the bedroom and in her songs, at night. The only way she can filter her ideas is in the act, as one would say. On nights I can’t get to her, she’ll desperately play piano. I’ve never heard it myself, but I’m sure its beautiful.” A mesmerised look drifts into Mitsu’s eyes as he imagines all the dirty scenarios he could get into if he could just catch her off guard in one of her musical trances.

“Remember, if you ever hear music in the dead of night, the Bewitching Hour has begun.”

~~~~~~

Several days after the mysterious and mature artist escaped the Revance home without being spotted by any other members, Kyohei has gotten very little sleep. Mostly from anticipation to hear any type of tune drifting through the halls and some due to the thoughts that clouded his brain. How would he initiate such an occasion? Were her trances even a thing? Would it be right to take advantage of that to experience the feelings he’s been waiting so long to feel? Maybe yes, maybe no. It all depended on her, really. If he showed up, made himself known, and she just happened to jump on him, he wouldn’t stop her. Even if she needed a little coaxing, he would be happy to take the place of her muse if for a night. He just wanted to encounter what he had heard, and seen in still images, was so magical.

Then, on one fateful night, a jolly tune bounced in the distance and Kyohei shot up in bed. Where or who it was coming from didn’t matter as long as who it was he hoped it would be. He grabbed a shirt just in case this didn’t turn out how he had hoped and stormed out the door.

In the hallways, following the strangely enticing sound to what must have been from the recording studio, the darkness and tune was a little eery. It was upbeat and fun, but the emptiness of the halls and the hyperawareness that everyone was asleep made a suspicious shiver run up Kyohei’s spine. Please, please don’t let this be Takashi.

Sure enough, through the door that was standing open, was a risquely dressed woman, her fingers jumping along the keys of the keyboard in their in-home recording studio. She was in her pyjamas, a worn tank top that must have been from her teenage years from the cute character on the front and shorts of a different design but just as old. Her hair was up in a rushed bun, sagging to the side when she tilted her head in frustration. Her ideas weren’t flowing the way she wanted them to and Mitsu was in Osaka for an art showing. She had no other outlets.

Except for the man that now stood directly behind her. She didn’t notice him at first, too wound up in her musical whimsy until she felt a warm pressure on her shoulders. She jumped, the electric instrument groaning with a clatter of keys as her fingers slammed down at the unexpected sensation.

“So tense. You need to relax if you want to get your work done in time not to get punished.” A tone she was all too used to breathed on her ear as Kyohei leaned over head, the feeling of his erection pressing into her back. Not that she could feel it, she was too stunned as to why he was here and too busy trying to bay her urges. No matter who it was, she would go for anyone in this state. Before she had met Mitsu, she would go on the prowl in less that suitable establishments, usually mistaken for a prostitute, even though she was the most dressed person on the whole block. Although, it didn’t matter to her, she usually got what she needed.

“Help me then.” The demanding tone spurred Kyohei on, the stern look making him chuckle. She looked as frustrated as Mitsu had made her sound and that led him to believed that this could happen. That he could get what he want. What they both wanted- for whatever different reasons.

Slowly but directly, Kyohei’s fingers from one hand drifted over her bare skin, along her collarbone and arond her neck, making her look up at him by tugging lightly on it. From some of the sketches in Mitsu’s book, she liked and was a frequent user of positions like these. Masami gulped at the heat that suddenly flooded in her.

With that slightly startled but so heavily lustful look in her eyes, Kyohei continued, inching his other hand down her chest and under her top. She moaned the second he tweaked her nipple. Both of their hearts raced at this less than innocent act taking place in such a common area of their home. Masami didn’t think about it, too caught up in trying to filter through the words flying around in her head, but Kyohei was metaphorically shitting bricks. If someone came in, would it be his fault? Would she get angry? The sound of a whimper pulled him out of those thoughts though.

“K-Kyohei, ca-can you... Can you finger me?” The forwardness of Masami’s words and the pleading look in her eyes as he held her face up to meet his gaze caused a shot of arousal to fire through Kyohei’s body and he wasted very little time in pulling her up. He quickly looked around for a surface to lay her on, but there was only the couch and the office chair that didn’t have any important equipment on it, so he pushed her onto the ground, laying her legs over his as he leant over to her. His hand was no longer around her neck, instead both were either side of her head, holding himself up over her.

With her hair sprawled out around her, pale wrists settled close to were his hands were, eyes slightly wide at seeing him in this position and cheeks flushed with desperate but embarrassed need, Kyohei had never been more turned on by any other woman. Masami wasn’t anything special. She didn’t have the ‘perfect’ body or have the greatest make-up skills. She was slow and at times absent-minded, just like right now, she seemed to be concentrating on something else and Kyohei didn’t know that this was what she was usually like in the moment. She was concentrating on her lyrics.

But Kyohei didn’t want that. He wanted all thoughts on him.

So, sitting back onto his heels, he focused all of his attention to her lower half. Palms falling on her knees, which only now had he realised were slightly bruised and was sure they were from the last time she had done something like this, his hands crept up her legs. The warm sensation on her body, chilled by the cold room and limited clothing, sent an excited shiver through her- dispersing any thoughts of music to the side, just for now, just so something could make sense. There was Kyohei Rikudoh, having her straddle him while she was on her back, making his way to her nether region with a look that seemed a little too excited.

But, Masami didn’t have time to think that fact over as she felt some sort of pressure on her clit. She gasped out a moan as she looked down to see Kyohei’s thumb disappearing underneath the fabric of her shorts. The motions on her fastened the more she moaned but the second she got a little louder, it was gone.

But only for a moment. Masami was about to complain before she felt that same digit enter her fully. Although shorter and thinner than some men she’s had, Kyohei’s thumb worked wonders on the nerves that were building up in that area and the nerves that had been in her head for the past few hours. He enjoyed the silent gasping as he pressed in different directions before slipping out and replacing it with his middle finger, once again seeing that short burst of annoyance before her lips parted to take in enough air to remind herself to breath. He wanted so badly to trap those plump things under his, exploring her mouth like it was the Mariana Trench, so, he leaned in.

“No.” A muffled call escaped Masami’s lips as she covered them with her hand, protecting herself from his advances. He stopped his thrusting fingers, wondering if he had hurt her, but she shook her head.

“N-Not on the lips.” She stuttered, the darkest blush she’s had tonight ligthening her face as she kept her hand there. Kyohei was slightly confused, his brows frowning at the strange demand. She would let him fuck her, but she wouldn’t let him kiss her? Well, he knew she was strange, but he didn’t believe it when she had reprimanded Mitsu. He thought it was just because he was there.

“I-If that’s gonna be an issue for you...” Masami led off as she sat up, inched herself away the best she could to keep the distance away from their faces and his fingers, which he hadn’t realised where still in her, slipped out. She bit back a moan at that, too embarrassed and scared to have annoyed him to make a noise.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not going to force you.” Kyohei smirked, wanting this more than he wanted to exercise each of his fantasifull whims. Masami’s shoulders eased at that and her gaze wondered down his body.

“Oh?” She muttered at the tent she saw pitched in his shorts. They were loose and thin, something like basketball wear, so she could definitely tell most of that height wasn’t material. She was in for a treat tonight.

With the tilt of her head, she reached forward, pulling down his waist band and helping his cock escape before he could say a word. To his surprise, he panicked as she grabbed it with such gentle fingers his hands flew behind him to keep himself upright. As her knees weren’t hooked over his anymore, she could sit on her own legs as Kyohei’s crossed his in front of him.

Masami knew what she was doing, she had a routine. Something she knew worked every other time she had done this act with someone new, so, she leaned forward and kissed the tip of his dick before licking it.

“You’re rather forward, huh?” Kyohei tried to regain his usual composure as the petite woman before him hardened him so suddenly he worried there’d be no blood left in his skull. She looked up at that incredulous smirk and couldn’t help but blush as she realised what she was doing.

“I want this.” She replied bluntly, not blaming herself for her less than ordinary ways to relieve stress. She licked him one last time before she brought her lips right next to his ear, careful not to let go of his cock. “So, will you fuck me now, Sir Kyo?”

Her questioning tone was almost innocent if not for the words that spilled out of her mouth so easily. Kyohei felt something come over him, an all too familiar feeling of lust, and he pushed her back by her shoulders onto the floor where she had been moments ago. He pulled her shorts and panties off, all in one go, and threw them behind him without much care as to where they ended up.

“You came prepared?” Masami frowned her brows at the condom Kyohei pulled out of his pocket. She wasn’t mad, she was happy he had one, but it did confuse her. She didn’t really know he was aware of her trances.

“Always am, Miss Mami~.” Kyohei’s teasing tone, mimicking the voice of her usual muse, made the girl blush, covering her frown with the back of her hand as she laid there, waiting patiently. She looked too cute for what he was about to do to her.

“Shut up and help me.” She grumbled, reminding him why they were here in the first place, and Kyohei couldn’t help but chuckle. The two stayed in their separate states until Kyohei sharply entered her.

Both mind’s turned into a pleasured fog that distracted either side of this couple from the outside world. Not that anything was happening that they would need to look out for, everyone was asleep and Kyohei hade the foresight to close the door. This allowed them, mostly Masami, to moan to their heart’s content. She clutched the top that fluttered over her as Kyohei towered over, holding himself up with one hand and her right thigh with the other.

“K-Kyohei.” She gasped out, eyes half-lidded as she looked up at him as his hand massaged that part of her leg, waiting for her to be comfortable enough for him to move. He seemed pushy, but he did care, being the secretly thoughtful guy he was. The sound of his name told the producer he could start thrusting.

“You’re so tight.” He grunted as those movements pulled him out of the short but sweet trance he found himself in as he watched the young woman writhe beneath him distracted him from the tightness of her. How could a woman said to be so risque and ravaging seem so virginal?

“Y-You’re just big.” The comment made her blush and she pouted, momentarily preoccupied from the heavenly sensation slowly grinding into her.

“Don’t frown like that. I’m sure you’ve dreamt about this, haven’t you?” He drew even closer to her once again, propped on his elbows as he continued to thrust in and out of her, one hand holding her cheek. He was careful not to make it seem like he would try to kiss her.

The smugness of his tone and sudden hard pound of his hips made Masami’s hands fly down his torso to grip the skin of his behind, hoping it would spur him onto giving her more of that much needed pleasure. “K-Kyohei.” Her ideas were finally organising themselves. She was so close. All she needed was a little encouragement.

“Go on. Scream my name. I know you want to.” Even though his own breathing started to hasten, his heart racing and his words sometimes tripping over themselves, Kyohei tried to seem as cool as he usually was. But, the clawing feeling on his lower back and arching of her’s, pressing their bodies even closer together was just so erotic, he found his own thoughts becoming jumbled. There was so much he wanted to say, so many dirty things he wanted to whisper in her ear to make her blush harder, to stutter his name more, he couldn’t understand any of the words that threatened to spill out of his mouth. Something about loving something, but the shriek of the woman below him pulled his thoughts away from that strange sensation.

“K-Kyohei!” Arms flying up his body and around his neck, pulling him closer and her up so he could snake an arm around her, holding their bodies flush together, Masami couldn’t hold back anymore.

“More. Please. I need so much more!” She whimpered in his ear and he only just realised his thrusts had slowed while he was thinking. Then, one thought made sense. Flipping them over so he was on his back and Masami was sitting on his lap, his cock buried so deep inside her she was sure she must have been hollowed out by him, Kyohei smirked.

“Go on, do it yourself. Use me to inspire you.” Sitting, holding each other, his hand clutching the back of her hair so he could whisper in her ear without risk of her pulling back, Kyohei pulled as much out of her as he could. Albeit the ground prohibitted most of his movement. When he loosened his grip, Masami sat up, looking at him with another one of her cutely questioning expressions.

“How do you- Oh!” Masami gasped as he pushed her hips down, mainly to distract her from her question and also to pleasure himself. Her hands once again clenched the fabric on his chest and she subconsciously started bouncing up and down, the sound of skin hitting skin sounding between them. Heavy breathing, moans of each other’s names, and the smell of hot, sweaty sex filled the room. It was lucky they had good ventilation in here.

It didn’t take much longer for either to finish, coincidentally at the same time, and when they both felt each other’s releases, Masami collasped forward, landing on Kyohei’s chest with a soft thud. She was panting, her thighs aching slightly from the exercise, and Kyohei chuckled, his arms sprawled out either side of him. The two finally had a moment of silence...

...Until Masami jumped up, his penis sliding out of her but she didn’t seem to care much, and yanked her journal from the table she had been struggling over before he showed up. As if this hadn’t just happened, as if one of the most sort of bachelors at the moment wasn’t laying half-naked on the floor behind her, Masami started working. She started pouring her heart out onto the pages in front of her, making quick work of the song she had been struggling with for the past day and a half.

It couldn’t be hidden, Kyohei was a little pissed. He had just had one of the most amazing sex sessions he had ever experiences, and she was still able to make it to the desk chair and write? So, he got up, meaning to turn her around and pound her against that journal that seemed to occupy her thoughts, when she met his stern gaze with a delighted smile. He only now saw the slightly darkened rings under her eyes and, despite that, she still looked adorable.

“Thanks, Kyohei, you were a big help!” Masami cheered, slapping her book shut and standing up, only to find the two much closer than she had anticipated. Both their lower halves were completely on show, but she couldn’t let herself look down. She was beat but, most of all, she was able to write. She had been able to accompish what she set out to do.

Kyohei just chuckled at his own stupidity. He should have understood what Mitsu meant when she really did just use his body to satiate her creativity. This was just a trade in professions, a transferable muse and a writer, nothing more, nothing less.

“Call me if you need anymore help.” He winked, his smug smirk returning to his face as Masami blushed at the offer, turning to find her shorts, throwing them on and running out the door so she could finally get some much needed sleep. What neither of them had realised was the pair of panties, tucked behind a filing cabinet after Kyohei had carelessly thrown them over his shoulder.

#scandel in the spotlight #kyohei rikudoh #sits #voltage games #voltage fanfic #voltage smut

29 notes · View notes

sonicfanj · 4 years ago

Note

Why do you prefer Amy over Sally?

I’ve taken to long to answer this question and would like to first thank you for your patience Anon.

So, I suppose a bit of an explanation for why I took so long is due as well. Mostly, it was a lack of time but also trying to find a way to define ‘why’. There are an awful lot of ways I could go about it as I am the type of person who is heavily invested in the details. Unfortunately the more I thought about it the harder it was going to get for me to really actually break it down. Fortunately, something recently reminded me of the role the Uncle Chuck plays in it and I can fortunately use him to transition into my history with the characters.

Now, I’ve been a Sonic fan for a long time, all the way back to 1991 actually with the original. As a US citizen naturally I saw SatAM and AoStH on TV as well. Where I get strange from what I see though is that I was quite the picky kid. I couldn’t understand why Sonic did not match his in game design, and had no idea what was wrong with Eggman. And yes, even back in the early 90s I was one of the few kids who knew the Japanese name was his original name, though I used them interchangeably back then. The thing is though, neither show ever looked like the games and that bothered me to no end. I recall that my older siblings and I preferred SatAM to AoStH for the more serious story and atmosphere, even likening it to the bad futures of Sonic CD. There in though is where the divide begins.

I was one of the very few kids who played Sonic CD back in 1993 and to this day it is still my favorite Sonic game, no less video game of all time. I actually did not play the higher praised by the fanbase Death Egg Saga games until Sonic Jam on the SEGA Saturn and that little collection did something for me that Sonic CD had also done. They showed me with the OVA trailer that Sonic and Eggman could be drawn properly. It showed me that Tails could be colored properly. They showed me that the wonder of the games could be captured in animation. It was glorious and to this day still leaves me yearning for a Sonic anime that actually captures it. Sonic CD on it’s own though was already killing SatAM for me.

A lot of people praise the Freedom Fighters. That quirky crew of rebels has brought so many people so much joy and I have nothing but respect for them for that. The thing is though, they were forgettable to me. When I turned my back on pretty much anything that was not the games that I knew I completely forgot about them until I finally got involved in the fanbase after Sonic Generations was announced and I had to do some major research to know what anyone was talking about. A game centric upbringing with only really main games as those I played will do that.

Amy meanwhile, despite CD being the only game I played that she was in until Adventure just struck me right. Her design, her on screen personality. These things just filled me with joy and it was very rare that I would not interreact with her in Palm Tree Panic as much as I could. I was actually so disappointed her design was changed for Adventure but her personality was exactly what I was expecting; a sweet bubbly girl with a lot of spunk and a love for Sonic.

So at this point I should come back around to Uncle Chuck as he will be necessary to explain why it took so long for me to even find anything in Sally worth enjoying, no less actually liking her come the 252 reboot. As I mentioned above, Sonic CD is my favorite game all time, but for as much as I loved Amy even back in 1993, Metal Sonic was my favorite character. Getting to Stardust Speedway and spending hours trying to beat him were the highlights with my playing back the until I finally beat him and cleared the game. That difficulty endeared Metal Sonic to me and left a very strong impression on me that still persists to this day. The thing is, Metal Sonic was my childhood and Uncle Chuck was a slap in the face.

You may recall that back in SatAM and a lot of early Archie, Uncle Chuck spent a lot of time roboticized. Now I know I did not see SatAM regularly because TV stations are questionable in their practices and I have parents who wanted the TV for their own shows. As a result I was unprepared for his introduction and in the cliffhanger where they simply showed a pair of red glowing eyes, little Metal Sonic fan that I was thought they were introducing Metal Sonic. When the next episode revealed it was a roboticized Uncle Chuck and not Metal Sonic, it was the last straw for the kid that was into Sonic for the games, and I only had access to two of them. Yet I turned my back on SatAM and everything made in the US that was not directly related to the games.

So because of Uncle Chuck my primary exposure to the cast were the main games and Sonic CD. Adventure finally let me play as Amy and the Freedom Fighters were a shoved aside memory from a wasted opportunity who never impressed themselves onto me. All of that changed come Generations as X showed me that even the Japanese could butcher the games I love and not draw Sonic right and as I joined the fandom through the US Sally should have had the chance to impress herself upon me. Unfortunately she was not given that opportunity because of her fans.

As is obvious, I’m an Amy fan. When I joined the fandom being an Amy fan in the US was not seen as a good thing and the war of hatred between Sally fans and Amy fans still has scars left over today throughout the Sonic community. When presented with Sally through the fans I interacted with, Sally was simply perfection incarnate and Amy should die in a fire while Sonic worships her for killing the hellspawn. It was not a good experience and offered no support for the games and the adventures I enjoyed and came to Sonic for. I also for a time came to despise the character solely for her fans which happened to me in recent years with the Tales of Franchise and the character Alisha. Unpleasant fans make it difficult to enjoy a character or even come to at least understand them. Fortunately I was willing to do some research of my own because I still felt like I needed the knowledge, and maybe the character could speak for herself. I was in for quite a bit of disappointment.

What my research turned up at the time was a character who was simultaneously useless, nothing more but an object of power for Sonic to worship like an indoctrinated thrall, and managed to match Tails in point of view at the time of dumbing Sonic down to where I felt in their presences he couldn’t figure out he was supposed to open his own mouth to eat if they weren’t there. This may be hard to believe but I actually disliked Tails quite a bit for several years as Sonic seemed to be constantly dumbed down so Tails could be useful rather than the kid who could keep up if he gave his all. Yet the OVA (subbed) saved Tails for me. Sally meanwhile continued to undermine Sonic with the Genesis Story during the events of Sonic 1 via the first Genesis Wave where she “helped” Sonic find the courage to enter the water in Labyrinth Zone and he found it not so bad because of her. It was one of the few times I found why people called her a Mary Sue.

What finally saved Sally for me was actually Amy. Though I never liked how aggressive and violent Amy had become compared to playful and mischievous from Sonic X on, and a coming reexamination of her character after learning she addressed Sonic a certain way in the Japanese manuals leading me to fully fall for Kazuyuki Hoshino’s vision of her, her conversations with Mecha Sally would turn the tide for Sally. Amy being Amy spoke of friendship and the friendship they had. While I never read the comics and could not examine their relationship, come the reboot in 252, from the get go the two were shown as good friends and I could finally see Sally’s character. She was wise tactically and cared for her friends, bit was also highly responsible and took her duties seriously. In Amy and her friends she found the comfort to unwind and just be another person no matter what was going on. Her and Amy’s chats while going around the world during the lead up to and during the Unleashed adaption made her fun and enjoyable, no less relatable. She was finally a character, a person, and not just an object that Sonic was chained to like a slobbering cartoon dog with their bone. It was refreshing and I enjoy the friendship between Sally and Amy so much that I still feel if the Freedom Fighters were to have been adapted to IDW for just a cameo that Sally would have been the perfect friend to hand the Restoration off to as she finally returned to her own adventuring ways. And that right there is the big difference point.

I come to Sonic for adventure, whimsy, and wonder. The sense of discover of meeting new people and seeing wonderous new locations. I love characters full of life and the love for adventure. Sally, unfortunately for her, does not represent that. Her role for years kept Sonic away from those adventures. Instead of supporting whimsy and constant new discovery, she supported stability and staying forever at home. By the nature of her role as a character and in universe, she just can’t be that type of character and that is not her fault. Amy meanwhile is a character designed to follow Sonic no matter where he goes. That she also is a girly-tomboy, one of my favorite character archetypes, but also bubbly and silly, playful and mischievous, and generally full of good cheer and limitless positivity (or used to be at lease) just always entertains me. That she also has the courage to open wear and express her emotions, including her love, is both entertaining on one hand, but also inspiring on another when you are raised in a society that hates honesty, emotions, and expressing that you love someone. Amy was refreshing, whereas Sally when I first looked into her, and her fans that I interacted with, represented oppression and that being you was the worst thing that could ever happen to the human race, something that Sonic and Amy both stand against. Fortunately Amy showed me there is plenty to like with Sally, and it’s a real shame her character was vaulted before that potential could finally be perceived. And yet, in the end, as I grew up on the main games and had my expectations born of them and further refined as I learned more and more of the Japanese lore for the games, Sally and the role she has could never provide me with what I come to Sonic for. Adventure, the whimsy that gives rise to it, the discovers that come from it, and the heroics at it’s climax. Sally by nature is not a whimsical character, nor should she be. It isn’t who she is and she deserves to be respected for that. And it’s thanks to her friendship with Amy that I finally saw that and can enjoy her character. But like Amy, I want to follow Sonic on his adventures, and her bubbly, playful, cheerful, optimistic, and mischievous personality makes following Sonic that much more enjoyable to me.

To simplify it here at the end, my love of Metal Sonic and Uncle Chuck prevented me from ever learning who Sally was. It was Amy’s friendship with her that finally changed that and I found a character who has a lot of potential and is quite enjoyable on her own. But Amy’s personality, whimsy, and propensity for adventure, or the the trouble that will take her on one, makes her the more enjoyable character for me. I know the whole explanation was a little long, but I hope it helps explains my preference for you Anon. Thanks for asking.

11 notes · View notes

spirit-of-the-void · 5 years ago

Text

Gunpowder and Flower Petals (Dante x Reader Fanfic) Chapter One

Author’s note: Sorry this came out so late--my laptop has been having issues, kids. Thanks to my discord for helping me name this fic

Chapter One

~Sunlight and Rose Petals~

Ever since you were a little girl, nature had its way of...speaking to you.

Nothing else really quite compared to it. Not to the way dandelions would hum with vitality and life, how roses tended to sigh and shudder under your fingertips. Morning glories always whispered their hellos from your balcony during every sunrise, and moon flowers giggled once it began to set. It filled your life with such unbelievable joy, one that was not lost on your mother once she noticed petals drifting occasionally from your hair, or how seeds would automatically sprout in your hand. As a botanical witch herself, seeing how nature embraced a child like you made her heart soar with delight and promise. She started your teachings at an early age, opening your eyes to the wonders and prospects of magic.

As for your father...he was never in the picture. After witnessing your mother cast magic for a single time, he left without so much as a word. She reasoned that this was for the best, and determined herself more than capable to take care of you once the time came. After all, him leaving was better than someone fearing magic being in your lives. Delusion and innocence had clouded the young witch’s eyes, convincing you mother that maybe she could tell your father when the time came. It was pointless after that day. She would not change herself to meet his bigotry, and you were deserving of a life filled with the wonders of spell casting.

Despite him not being there, your childhood had been so bright. Living in a small town, helping your mother grown herbs in window boxes and vegetables in the garden. Fields of poppies would bloom as you ran through, seedlings had an inexplicable chance of blossoming in your hair. Whimsical, enchanting. You carried the scent of flowers in your wake, even to this day. It was in those times that you learned the cycle of respect between nature and a witch, the process of which to enrich a flower or plant with life and gain their respect in return. Those same flora provided back in kind, more than eager to continue their cycle as a spell or nutrition for those who were kind to them. The sun would rise and fall, and your mother would whisper her thanks and gratitude to every plant she used in each task she needed. You had always been in awe of her, how the flowers were more than happy to give up their petals to her potions and powders.

With each passing day, your magic and knowledge grew until you were ten years old, when...well. Tragedy stuck, and as always, it struck in ways you would never expect.

Demons attacked your little town in the woods, razing everything they touched to ash. You would never forget waking to the screaming of your neighbors, of the silent shrieking of plants as they were scorched into nothingness. There had been smoke, a scent so foul it made your little eyes water and throat sting like nothing else before. Glowing embers made patterns in the dark air, drifting like the pollen that had grown so precious and wonderful in you life.

You remember lurching from your bed, crying hoarsely for your mother even as the vines on your balcony frantically dragged you out of the house before they had a chance to burn. They deposited you safely on the ground outside, just as a small group of your neighbors rushed over to pull you away. Mrs.Davenport, the closest to your mother, had held you in a protective embrace, her heart pounding frantically as they piled into a vehicle and sped away from the rising flames.

Your mother would have never been able to make it out of the house. Not with magic, not with plants. She was in the basement working on a project when the first flames had shot through the windows, and was trapped on all sides. At least...that was according to Mrs.Davenport’s husband, who went back to check for any sign of her once everything was said and done. After that day, after the funeral for all who were lost...you sat alone in a little room above the Davenport’s shop in the city, a single handful of seedlings in your pocket and an ache in your heart that would never fade.

But the Davenports were kind, and took you in with open arms. Despite losing their home and store in town, the one they held on the edge of the city made enough to keep them going. The apartment above was renovated into a new living space, and you spent your time learning how to help out in any way you could. In the shop, at home, and with the only skills you had left to give. During this time the rosebuds in your hair were closed and dull, echoing your grief and uncertainty loud and clear to the outside world. But in time...they would bloom again.

Things were not always without turmoil. Being a witch’s child growing up in a place beyond the safety of that town proved difficult. The small, private classes from some of the mothers who lived nearby with children of their own were far more understanding and accepting of magic. After all, a lot of their medicines and tonics came from your home. The same could not be said when you were enrolled in public school, hair full of rose petals and an naive air of whimsy following your every step. Children were not ignorant of outsiders, sensing something about you was off from day one.

Young ones could be so cruel sometimes.

Teachers too. School was a hard time, rife with bullying and ridicule from all sides. The first time you performed magic in class, the teacher was heavily alarmed and immediately drew you out of the class for scolding. It had seemed so innocent at the time--making flowers sprout up from a handful of seedlings to give some classmates gifts. The Davenports were called, and you were almost expelled from the grade school there and then. After pleading, begging, promises that no more magic would be performed...you were allowed to stay. But the damage had been done, on all sides. The teacher never looked at you the same way after that, and neither did the children.

An important lesson was learned that day. Magic was not the wonderful, beautiful thing you had always been taught. For some it was something ugly, a thing to fear and ridicule. Growing up in that environment left lasting damage on your confidence, damage that took years to truly shake. The flowers didn’t bloom in your hair that often then, magic harder to cast and you finding yourself trying desperately to fit in. But...is this what your mother truly wanted? For you to bow your head and smoother all the beautiful things she had given you, the teachings she held so dear?

You spent a lot of time thinking about her words, shaking off the cloud that had plagued you for so many years of school. Balance could be found, control must be had. If people could not understand the beauty and wonders of magic without fear, the only way to change anything was to teach them. Even if it had to be secret, even if you had to hide it until out of school.

You had so much kindness to give, after all.

After graduating high school, the Davenports encouraged you to sell the flowers that you cultivated in window boxes, in pots all over your room. They insisted that you keep every bit you made, and soon a reputation with the customers began to thrive. Your flowers took much longer to wilt that normal ones, and bloomed bigger and brighter. The roses smelled stronger, the peonies sweeter. Valentine’s day became a busy time for the shop, filled with eager men looking for bouquets for their lovers and family searching for flowers to gift to their children, parents, grandparents...You developed an adoration for every person you met, heart full and welcoming for each new face and smile.

And the flowers sold each time, absorbing the eagerness of their new owners and coming with a small note on how to properly care for them.

Each person who bought a flower left with the knowledge of how to respect them, just as your mother taught you. The plants understood their purpose, silent but filling you with their energies of delight and pride. Because at the end of the day, all nature wanted was a purpose and kindness in turn.

You found your calling there, Mister Davenport helping create a greenhouse in the backyard for your needs. They grew old in time, and both decided that when they retired, the shop would be converted over fully into a Botanical business instead. Tears were shed that day, ones of gratitude and sorrow as you remembered what was lost, what had been gained. How lucky you had been, to have such lovely human beings there to support you, from the moment you took your first breath to when you thought fire and demons would take it all away. Neither of your mother’s friends had to help you, but did it anyway. And for that, you owed them everything and more.

Especially on days like these, when everything was perfect.

A smile was always on your face as you flitted around the shop, saying your “good morning”s to the flowers and making sure each had water and their needed nutrients. The wide, open shop windows allowed sunlight to dapple each petal, unfurling the morning glories with droplets of water dripping from them like dew. The bouquets were arranged for orders taken, hanging pots casting shadows and their vines occasionally brushing the top of your head. Mornings were always so spellbinding--everything felt alive, humming with their silent energies and filling you to the brim with positivity. Even the seedlings that bloomed in your hair radiated an air of being pleased, one curling around your left ear like it intended to whisper to you.

The shop bells jingled with each new customer, you smiling at familiar faces and new ones in kind with a cheerful, “Good morning! How can I assist you today?”

It was springtime, right around when people were getting married and having babies. Lots of requests for pink bouquets, blues, whites. Orchids and roses, lilies and tulips. When the shop grew quiet you would sneak to the greenhouse to put spells on the gardens, adding new seeds for flowers you were running short on. A little magic, a little care...they never took long to grow, everything would be ready for the following morning.

This was your life, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Around noon you set about weaving dandelions and mini carnations into flower crowns, smiling when you saw the usual bees hanging around your window boxes. There was water out there for them and passing birds, plus you made sure to plant things they would like. There was something very cute about seeing their little pollen-covered butts wiggle around in the flowerbed. Regular customers had long grown used to them, respecting the art they played in keeping flowers alive.

Maybe you should start beekeeping? Was there room for bee boxes in the yard? Being this far out on the edge of the city, there weren’t really any businesses that would be bothered by it.

You were drifting in and out of your musing when a familiar face came through the door, the resulting bell making your eyes lift from their task.

“Morning, Y/N!” Greeted Alex, grinning from ear to ear as he slid by the counter on the way to where the lilies were displayed. He owned a little bakery a few streets over--you thoroughly enjoyed stopping by the corner deli first, then grabbing sweets from them on the way back , “See you’re working hard as always. What’s on your agenda for today?”

You chuckled, lifting up one of your finished crowns to display it proudly to his curious eyes, “Crowns. They’re getting popular on social media,” You set the item down, shaking a few loose petals from your silken locks as you added playfully, “Picking up lilies for your darling again? Like clockwork, every week. I don’t know where you’re putting them.”

He chuckled at that, seeming grateful when you came around the counter to help him wrap a small bouquet. The flowers’ energy reached out for you, the magic toiling through your veins responding in kind.

“We plant them in our garden to be honest,” He admitted, scratching the back of his head sheepishly at your delighted look, “I don’t get it, didn’t think they would just bloom if we planted them like that, but...your flowers are really somethin’ special.”

They most certainly were. Infused with magic, filled to the brim with possibilities they wouldn’t otherwise have. But he didn’t need to know that, not yet at least--there was no telling how he would react otherwise. You wondered belatedly what kind of honey would yield from magic flowers, especially with the kind of magic you used. Healing properties, maybe? It was just another thing to add to the list.

Regardless, you grinned, wrapping the stems gently in plastic before exchanging them for his money, “They do that because you treat them with kindness--honestly it makes me really happy to imagine your yard filled to the brim with all the lilies you’ve bought the past few months.”

Alex laughed lightly, little winkles appearing around his eyes when he smiled so brightly, “Bella loves it to pieces, so I can’t really say no,” His eyes drifted to the door when a few more customers entered, the familiar man waving with his free hand as he added, “See you next week, Y/N! Swing by the bakery sometime, we’ve got some seasonal fruits coming in so I’ll make sure we whip up something special!”

You waved goodbye, smiling cheerfully as you went to greet the next couple of customers. You would definitely have to stop by the bakery again soon, it had been too long since the last order of creme puffs you had.

Regardless, you focused on the next people in need of assistance--Familiar faces as well, regulars who bought bouquets to put on tables in catering events. They had an order to be picked up, one scheduled long in advance and sitting in the greenhouse waiting for them. The crowns could wait for something so important, surely. And after these orders were taken there was only two more meant to be taken that day. Plenty of time to tend to the new flowers, to take care of whatever customers come in then close down around six or seven o’clock.

So distracted with helping these customers get their order, you didn’t notice a new face walk in.

It wasn’t until you started hurrying back to the front of the store with boxes of pre-made vases in tow did you realize someone had entered, figure wandering on the edge of the shop and idly gazing at the masses of roses. You spared a brief glance from over the budding flowers obscuring your vision, hurrying to set the box in the back of the customer’s van outside. That wasn’t one of your regulars, was it? White hair, broad shoulders, tall...wearing a red leather jacket and dark jeans. Definitely not the usual type to peruse a flower shop in the middle of the afternoon. Not that you cast any judgement--anyone could love nature, so maybe this person was simply finding a new passion for roses? Regardless, you hurried on, feeling a bit bad that you didn’t hear the bell over the door jingle at all.

“I’ll be right with you!” The familiar words carried easily over the shop as you rushed past, voice friendly and sweet. The stranger half turned in your direction, but you didn’t get to see their face past the white hair draping over one side.

He simply lifted one hand in a light acknowledgement of you, voice deep and slightly bemused as he replied, “Take your time.”

If there was one thing you didn’t like doing, it was keeping customers waiting. The box of flowers was deposited in the van quickly enough, papers signed and thanks given for their purchase. The beautiful displays of lilac and lilies will make for lovely centerpieces for whatever gathering they’d be hosting, that was for certain--plus they would stay vibrant and lively, blessed with good fortune and radiating a heavenly scent. Your magic made sure of that, and when the blossoms eventually wilted it would disperse the magic safely into the air and bring good energy to whatever space they were kept in.

You made sure the buyers were all set up and pulling away before rushing back into the shop, a bit anxious about making a good first impression on this new customer. Luckily, he was still there by the rose display. Back turned, shoulders occasionally rolling as he browsed the selection. Goodness, he was certainly tall...and big. Well, compared to you at least. Height wasn’t something you were blessed to have a lot of, but it never really bothered you. It was just slightly intimidating to be facing someone like this stranger, one who dwarfed you so obviously in size and stature. He...carried a strange energy too, one that made you pause and frown at his back.

What is that feeling? Surely you felt it before, but...it was very muted, like diluted by water. His scent felt human again, almost like whatever you sensed had passed.

You shook the feeling off, approaching him finally and managing a soft smile as you greeted, “I’m so sorry about the wait, is there anything I can help you find?”

The stranger paused, turning finally to look at your form standing patiently behind his own. He was...oh. You blinked, feeling a bit flustered upon seeing this man’s face. Handsome, with strong features and a wry smile on his lips. He was a bit unshaven, facial hair white where it lined his strong jaw and chin. If you didn’t have a type before, you surely had one now upon meeting the stranger who had been so interested in roses--it suited him, you decided that already. He seemed like a roses type of guy, it mingled well with the rugged energy surrounding his body and limbs. The smile he greeted you with seemed to pause when he saw your face, lips popping open and a mix of emotions flitting across his features.

What was going on with that? He seemed surprised for a second, taken aback, then a bit nervous and fidgety as his smile became a bit more...rueful?

He was hard to read, and you were already nervous.

“Er...It’s no problem, miss,” He replied in that warm voice, scratching the back of his head a bit and half turning his face away, “Just...ah. Someone mentioned to me that your shop was the best place to get roses.”

You blinked, staring at the man without realizing it. Embarrassment colored your cheeks a bit pink, your mind desperately trying to shake whatever daze had come over you and find a response to his statement.

“They...sent you to the right place,” You finally managed, lips curling softly as you brushed past him for the display of flowers. A handful of petals fell from your hair as you did so, landing on his black boots in a sharp contrast of color. I need to calm down, you told yourself meekly, heart stuttering in your chest, the magic is causing anomalies with my hair again, “Is there a particular color you’re looking for or may need?”

The stranger seemed fascinated by the little pink petals that dotted his boots, a bemused smirk growing on his lips again as he plucked one out of the air before it fell. Something about the action made you swallow, face starting to resemble that shade the flowers were.

“Red,” He replied to your question, quirking a grey brow as he rubbed the thin flower petal between his fingers, “I’m a simple man with simple needs, what can I say?”

You nodded a couple times, eyes peeling off of him long enough to slide over to the lovely red roses sitting in a patch of sunlight near the window. Water still glistened from when you watered them earlier, making the petals glimmer like diamonds. They were a fresh batch too, radiating a sultry energy and filled to the brim with your magic care and adoration. They were a plant based around romance, so your mood and eagerness was easily sensed considering how connected to you they were. The remaining few that hadn’t bloomed fully yet finally did so, curling out in front of the stranger’s eyes as he prepared to pluck some from their container. Oh dear, he definitely saw that, didn’t he?

Your gaze flickered to the man in question, anxiety making a home in your features as you gauge his reaction. But he didn’t seem bothered, merely fascinated and bemused as he took in their sudden growth.

“How many would you like?” Your voice asked softly, despite how absolutely nervous you felt. What was wrong with you? Many handsome or beautiful customers had come in before without issue, so why was this one managing to get you so flustered? It was inexplicable, and definitely outside the realm of normality. But...you found yourself not upset by it, excitement curling in your gut as you met his light gaze again with a hesitant one of your own.

Locking eyes sent a shiver down your spine, heart doing the most unbelievable things in your chest.

“Uh…” He cleared his throat again, seeming to lose whatever train of thought was going through his head, “Oh...a dozen. Just twelve should be enough for now. If they’re as great as people told me, I’ll come back and get more, right?.”

Oddly enough...you desperately hoped that would be the case. A hint of a giddy smile formed on your lips, head ducking down to hide it as you retrieved some paper and plastic to wrap the flowers in, “Certainly, sir. Roses are really beautiful, loyal flowers so they will last for a while,” You set about carefully setting them up as you spoke, eyes locked on the water gently rolling from their petals as you asked, “If I may ask...what are you using them for? Are they a gift, perhaps?”

This was something you generally always liked to hear about from customers, he was no exception. But...asking him still felt strange somehow, like you were breaching a realm of privacy for information you hadn’t earned. Definitely not asking to discover if he had a wife or girlfriend, that was rude and inappropriate. Just thinking about it made you want to pull up your turtleneck and hide your face from his eyes, hide away from everything. As it stood, your finger slipped on the stem of a rose as the thoughts went awry, pricking your finger on a stray thorn that hadn’t been fixed earlier. A hiss escaped your lips, instinctively tugging your hand away to pop the injured digit into your mouth.

The roses radiated apologetic energy, sensing what had happened and not liking it in kind.

“You okay?” The man asked, a frown marring his features as he stared at the bead of blood forming on your skin. Seemingly without thinking, he reached out to grasp your wrist with a gentle hand, pulling a bit closer for inspection. Just that action alone sent a tingle of energy along your arm, face going a bit red at the unexpected touch.

Oh dear. The flowers in your hair trembled, more petals falling from the silken locks.

He was not immune--the man blinking, seeming to realize a second later what he had done and dropping your limb like it had burned him. He raised both hands in a gesture of apology, taking a measured step back, a hint of embarrassment in his expression.

“Shit--sorry, I didn’t mean to just grab at ya like that,” He apologized immediately, dropping his arms and letting out a gusty sigh, “You just hurt yourself, and I didn’t really--”

“It’s okay…!” You blurted out suddenly, cutting off whatever he was going to say. It made him blink, staring at you with surprise as your gazed met once more. More petals, a vine curled under your ear slightly. Oh no, I’m getting too emotional, too nervous, too excited--your face was far too warm, especially when you tugged the turtleneck up a bit to hide the vines creeping around your neck.

“U...um…” You murmured, feeling completely obvious under his steady blue eyes and hating yourself thoroughly. He couldn’t see the magic, couldn’t know about that. You had spent far too long being careful to make slip-ups like these. But...why was your mouth still moving?

“It’s okay. I...didn’t mind, not really,” You peeked up from the turtleneck, fidgeting at the surprised expression he still had on, “My name is Y/N, by the way...I usually tell customers that right away but I think I forgot to with you. Or did I? Oh dear...I’m sorry.”

I’m a mess, an absolute disaster. Why was it so hard to form coherent sentences around him? You had gone from being steadfast and confident one moment to a bumbling fool the next, which honestly was...typical. Emotions ran high on even your best days, which came with the territory of being a witch. Controlling them was by far the hardest thing to do, right at the top of the list of skills she hadn’t quite mastered. All it served to do was make her miss the mother she so adored--full of poise, calm in even the darkest moments and able to control her magic like breathing. Mrs. Davenport said that even when her father left, the woman never shed a single tear for his absence.

Regardless, you shook off the wistful nostalgia, turning your gaze away from his when a low, crooked grin tilted his lips at your red face. He seemed to be enjoying it far too much.

“You didn’t tell me your name yet, sunshine, so don’t worry too much on that end of things,” He chuckled, the sound washing over your ears in the most pleasant manner possible, “Though it was rude of me to manhandle a pretty girl without askin’, even if you don’t mind.”

Sunshine. Pretty girl. The words stuck to your skull like glue, making you downright dizzy as you tried to process it. This wasn’t the first time someone called you pretty, right? Several customers had come in and made such observances, both in a romantic subtext and not. All of the former variety were politely turned down, you just didn’t have the time or the shared attraction worth following through with.

But this person...something about him made your heart flutter, pounding against your ribs and bringing out every flustered, easily embarrassed part of you. And he clearly wasn’t oblivious to it--the man smirked when he caught the surprise in your expression at his cute nickname, fidgeting under his stare and resisting the urge to hide your face entirely. This is all too much.

“D...don’t worry about it,” You squeaked, the sound coming out a bit breathless even to your ears as you turned back toward the roses. Frantically trying to tuck a loose vine behind your ear, silently urging the flowers to calm down as you added, “Wh...what is your name, if I may ask?”

He let out a low hum at your question, eyes turning toward your task as you wrapped the roses in a final layer of plastic. Something about him hovering over your shoulder as you finished his order...well. It made you very flustered indeed.

“Dante,” The man, Dante, finally replied to your question, offering you a charming smile on top of it all. But that soon faded, especially when he cleared his throat and added hesitantly to his statement, “And to what you asked earlier, roses were...well. They were my mother’s favorite flower before she passed, so...I keep some with me at all times in honor of her.”

Oh. His response made your heart ache on his behalf, excitement draining into something a little more forlorn and sympathetic as your hands gentled a bit in their duty. His tone was so wistful, border-lining on a little sad as he mentioned the parent he had lost. In an instant you felt a kinship with this man you didn’t know, wanting to comfort him in any way you could. One hand rested on the package of roses, crinkling the material slightly as you closed your eyes.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Your voice was soft, gentle as you thought back to the loss of your own mother, that dark day in town with the flames rising in your home, “I lost my mother too...a long time ago. It can be a very hard thing to go through.”

He sucked in a slight breath at your words, pausing like he was surprised to even hear them. You turned your gaze to meet his again, seeing a hint of shock and sympathy now echoed in his eyes right back. A look of regret, of exhaustion and heartache that made your own chest hurt in a strange way. The mood in the air shifted in an instant, your magic sensing ever ounce of grief that seeped into his energy aura that told you everything that you needed to know about him. Trauma, sorrow, exhaustion, anger...he had been through something terrible, hadn’t he? It showed on his face, that smile shifting into something deeply sorrowful at the sound of your own pain.

Oh no...I made him sad.

“Damn...I’m sorry, Y/N,” He replied, sounding gruff and a bit apologetic as he scratched the back of his white hair, “I didn’t mean to bring the mood down. I have a habit of putting my foot in my mouth when I probably shouldn’t.”

“Oh no!” You protested immediately, turning to stare at him with the roses cradled gingerly in your arms, “Please, don’t apologize for anything Dante. I don’t mind at all,” A small smile tilted your lips, cheeks still a bit flushed from his earlier comments, “There’s no shame in opening up to someone about your past, never doubt that. I’m always happy to listen if you need it.”

Your words surprised him further, his gaze lingering on yours with an unidentified emotion lingering in its depths. Whatever it was...your stomach did somersaults at the sight, making you turn away and hurry toward the counter to give you a chance to breathe a bit. Oh dear. Oh my, this man was a whirlwind on your emotions, stirring up things that a stranger absolutely shouldn’t have the power to stir up. You tried not to focus on it, summoning forth another smile as the price for his roses was tallied up. A little shaved off for making him wait in the store for so long while the other order was processed of course.

He strolled up to the corner after you, watching with curious eyes as you made sure to attach the needed items to take care of roses to the wrappings. A little note too, thanking him for his purchase.

As soon as he saw the total, one eyebrow quirked up in surprise, “That’s all?” He sounded doubtful of the low price, pulling out a leather wallet from his pocket and eyeing you suspiciously.

You nodded, graciously accepting the offered bill and depositing it in the cash register as you replied, “Yep. Consider it an apology for forcing you to wait outside so long earlier--its rude to do that to first time customers.”

He let out a little “huh” at that, cocking his head a bit to examine you as he gathered up the bouquet of fresh roses. Something about his scrutinizing gaze made you blush further, that color returning to your cheeks as his change was handed back. Your fingers brushed at the action, making you shiver again before pulling away and trying to find some semblance of sanity again. Calm down, it’s rude to act like this to strangers. You resisted the urge to bite your lip, trying to gather all the nervous attraction and bottle it down inside. As if that would somehow fix anything, which you knew damn well it wouldn’t.

Already you were hoping he would come back. Already hoping your roses were up to his standards. It felt a bit pathetic really, wanting to get to know someone this badly just from one interaction. Maybe you were just lonely? After the Davenports moved out to their retirement home, you lived above the shop alone and worked hard every day without fail. It was just all that neediness talking, that was it.

Wasn’t it?

“Thank you for coming by, Dante,” You said softly, playing with a strand of your hair and lifting your eyes to see his again, “I...I hope you like the roses. Don’t hesitate to stop by again, okay?”

That made him smile, that crooked smirk causing your stomach to feel like it was spinning in circles. A low chuckle left his lips, eyes lingering on your hair for a moment as he reached out one hand. Your heart nearly stopped, breath pausing in your throat as he plucked a stray petal from your locks with his free hand. You blinked owlishly, cheeks warming more as he rubbed it between his digits and felt its soft texture.

“You’ll definitely be seeing me again, Sunshine,” He replied, an amused grin tilting his lips as he took in your flushed face, “Might invite you out to coffee next time too, if you’d allow it?”

Oh. OH.

You squeaked, hands grasping the edges of your turtleneck as you replied in a stammer, “O..oh! I’d...I’d like that, yes...absolutely…!” Far too eager, far too happy about his request in the first place.

But he didn’t seem to mind, giving you a two finger salute before he turned to head out the door again. You watched him as he went, heart pounding in your chest even until the bell jingled above the door to sound his departure. It wasn’t until he was completely out the door that all the emotion finally burst forth, a sense of embarrassed excitement causing you to hide your face in the turtleneck and squeak softly. It was a good thing there were no more customers in the store at that moment, because the flowers in your hair sprouted even more and dropped far too many petals in a little halo around you on the floor.

“Oh god…” You mumbled, holding your overly warm face in your hands as the remaining traces of nervous attraction refused to be shaken off.

“Did that...just really happen?”

Read on AO3

Like what you see? Consider buying me a coffee

#Dante x reader #flowershop fic #flowers #flower shop oc #flower shop witch #dante devil may cry #devil may cry #gunpowder and rose petals #chapter 1

204 notes · View notes