#I hope you love silk embroideries and over the top clothing

[petite-madame]

Guys, "Le posting schedule" 😁

Next Week: an unplanned (and happy) Good Omens artwork

Next-next week : The Steve/Bucky in Wakanda artwork you voted for about two weeks ago

Next-next-next week : Victorian Sherlock & John (including S.H wearing a kimono)

[ashensgrotto]

The Sea's Sacrifice (Part 1)

Characters: AzulAshengrotto / Jade Leech / Floyd Leech x F!Reader

Total Word Count: 14.7k+

Part 1 (You are Here) Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Synopsis: A potential job as a marine biologist’s assistant leaves (Y/N) feeling something fishy going on behind the scene…

Author's Notes: Original Idea came from @merakiui 's annonymous ask with a short story / headcannon -> https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/684490143936167936/ooohhh-i-love-those-writing-ideas-you-had-for-sea?source=share

and I absolutely love this concept and wanted to take it a step further. I don't write yandere nor fanfiction as much as I did a few years ago. However, I do hope I do this piece justice; I will had links to the next part once it is completed and ready for viewing.

Also, this is a work of fiction. I disagree anyone that justifies the following behaviors which are represented in this fic (if I think of more, I will add them as I go):

rape/non-consent/dub-consent, possessive/controlling/dominating behaviors, and manipulation

Cruel and cold like winds on the seas

Will you ever return to me

Hear my voice sing with the tide

My love will never die

Over waves and deep in the blue

I will give up my heart for you

***

If someone were to tell you that you’d eventually be pulled into the wrong end of the sea by, not one but three, unknown sea creatures - you’d probably laugh your head off, thinking they’ve lost their mind.

But how wrong you’d be.

When you had initially applied to work at Twisted Wonders - an emporium of oddities that were collected and studied by the greatest minds in existence - you thought you’d be taking an everyday desk job; answering phone calls, scheduling tours, directing visitors… that sort of thing. 

Never in your right mind would you believe that you would be working alongside the Dire Crowley - director and owner of Twisted Wonders. Mr. Crowley was an acclaimed renowned genius with an air that was both mysterious and alluring. He was approximately 170 cm in height (five feet, seven inches) and wore rich tailored clothing made of silks and leather with gold embroidery and jewels embedded into the vest and belt; of course, he upped his strange allure by consistently wearing a heavy leather overcoat that hung to his frame, decorated in black feathers - real or faux, no one was sure, a top hat that perched on his head, and a mask of black that reminded you of a crow - his arched nose hidden under the long rim of the mask that poked out like a beak. 

“Here’s the deal, (Y/N),” Mr. Crowley spoke, reclining back in his desk chair as a pair of golden eyes peered out from behind the mask, “We’ve recently acquired three creatures that need to be observed. My team, however, has been unsuccessful at getting remotely close to studying them. They seem to think that an outsider might have a higher success rate at being able to approach them more than any of us will due to their knowing who we are.”

“So, what is it exactly that you want me to do?”

“I want you to observe them,” Mr. Crowley spoke, pushing a contract towards you, “You will work with my group of scientists for about three months as well as the three creatures. You are to notate anything and everything you see the trio doing - how they eat, sleep, react with each other, and so forth - and document everything for our records, no matter how insignificant it is. If you prove your worth and competence within those three months, you will be moved to another position within the facility of your choosing.”

“And that’s it? That’s all I need to do?”

“That’s it.”

‘Seems pretty easy for a payment of twenty dollars an hour…’ you thought as you looked down at the contract before, “And this is my… compliance, right?”

“That would be correct, as well as a safety and confidentiality agreement,” Mr. Crowley answered, offering a pen in your direction.

You took the instrument and wrote your name across the bottom of the page on the dotted line.

“Alright,” Dire Crowley took the contract and stood, pressing a buzzer on his desk, “with everything in order, I’ll have Grimsley take you to meet Divus Crewel and Mozus Trein - the overseers of our aquatic project.”

“I’m sorry, did you say aquatic?” your eyes widened in surprise.

“Dear me, did I forget to mention that part?” Mr. Crowley tapped his chin, his glowing eyes looking up toward the ceiling before returning to rest on your features, “Our newest arrivals are of the oceanic nature - I’ve never met or seen them myself, however Professor Crewel and Professor Trein will be able to go over the basics with you and introduce you to the trio in question.”

“As long as they don’ forget the good stuff!” a snarky voice spoke from behind.

You turned in your chair toward the door to see the man who must’ve been Grimsley.

He was about 163 cm in height with pale skin and dark gray hair with tufts of flame blue poking out in random directions. His eyes also were flame blue and held mischief in their depths that matched the smirk on his face as a set of sharp teeth peered out from behind thin lips. He wore a suit of black with a vest that matched his hair, a black and white-striped tie, and a white dress shirt. Leather loafers padded softly against the carpeted flooring of Crowley's office as he held out a black leather gloved hand in greeting.

"Grimsley Overblot," the man smiled like a Cheshire cat, "I'm Mr. Crowley's henchman and errand runner here at Twisted Wonders."

"(Y/N) (L/N)," you answer, taking Grimsley's hand with a shake, "pleasure to meet you."

“Grimsley, go ahead and take (Y/N) to see the good professors,” Dire Crowley spoke, a satisfied smile on his features, “I’m sure the two are more than ecstatic to meet her.”

***

As it turns out, both men were ecstatic to meet you - though Professor Trein was a bit more reserved about it versus his partner.

Trein's appearance matched his personality - his posture indicated a "no nonsense" aura as did his unchanging features. His lips would quirk into a small smile before they would fall to a straight line as his dark eyes settled on your uneasy form, as if he enjoyed watching you squirm like a germ under the microscope. He was dressed as any scientist would; a heavy white lab coat that fell to his knees hung around his frame that covered a white dress shirt and charcoal-colored dress pants and loafers. His hair was gray with streaks of white and wrinkles covered every inch of his face and neck.  He also wore a set of white pristine gloves and had a cravat around his neck with a singular emerald gem that held the cloth together.

As for his partner, Professor Crewel was a bit more… eccentric. Crewel had a sort of energy about him that reminded you of a young dog - not a puppy, but not an adult either. He was always cocking a smile that bore teeth, chuckling when he patted the top of your head as he called you "puppy." His clothing matched his laidback ideals too - a heavy black and white fur coat with a red silk lining covered the charcoal gray dress shirt and pants. His vest was black on one side, white on the other, and wore a red tie that matched the gloves on his hands.

“So,” Crewel spoke after introductions, pulling a cigarette out of his pants pocket and lighting the object, “any questions before we get you set up?”

“I guess my big question is what exactly will I be working with?” you ask.

“We believe the trio to be mers, but they’re not your typical ones,” Trein explained with a sniff as his features twisted at the smell of Crewel’s smoke,  “All three of them have the upper bodies of men, but lower halfs of sea creatures. Two of the three half the lower half of what we believe to be that of a moray eel and the third the lower half of an octopus. The twins are typically more curious of the three, though they can be aggressive. Several of our closest colleagues were attacked by the duo after accidentally disturbing them - their bites have left scars and one of our colleagues actually lost their leg from their attack.”

“... and you don’t think I will?” you had to question, the comment coming out high-pitched.

“Well, moray eels - specifically - will attack only if they have been disturbed,” Crewel answered nonchalantly, “We believe there are similarities between the animals and the mers, which is why we are gathering as much information as we can. We want to know what the similarities and differences are between moray eels and the twins.”

“Okay, but I still don’t see how I won’t get attacked by those two. And what about the third?”

“You won’t be attacked as long as you stay still and don’t make any sudden movements,” Trein answered, “Once they get used to you, you’ll know.”

“As for the third,” Crewel answered, “he’s a cecaelia - half man, half octopus.”

You blink, “Don’t moray eels eat octopi?”

“Typically, yes,” Trein answered, “which is strange, in this case. The trio were originally found off the coast in the Coral Sea - living in harmony with each other. When we brought them here, the moray mers have consistently been surrounding the grotto that is in the enclosure - the cecaelia hiding within and rarely comes out. We think that the cecaelia may have raised the morays, but we’re not completely sure.”

“And it’s been a devil of a time trying to get a glimpse of him too,” Crewel shook his head, eyes rolling to the ceiling.

“You mean you haven’t seen him? Not once?”

“I saw him when he was first brought into the enclosure,” Trein sighed, “however, it was dark and I couldn’t see him very well - the eels could be seen because of the bioluminescence that exists within their bodies, allowing us to see their figures.”

“Speaking of which, come,” Crewel rested a hand to the small of your back, “let’s get you acquainted with our aquatic trio, hm?”

Crewel and Trein led you to the opposite end of their laboratory where a large glass wall stood with a set of double doors that led to what appeared to be the edge of a massive pool. Once inside, the smell of fish and humidity tickled your nose as the sound of lapping of water reverberated in the slightly dimmed room; the only light being illuminated from the pool itself. The gray walls stretched high, the ceiling covered by long triangular beams that permitted the echoes of voices and lapping water in the room. One the far left was a coat rack and a small freezer with a large fan blowing the heated air around the room.

“When you come in - which will be about six-thirty each morning, you’ll hang your coat on the rack and put your lunch in the freezer before feeding your charges,” Crewel explained, walking over to the freezer and lifting the lid, “We always restock the food the night before, so you don’t have to worry about not having anything in here for the day. There will be nine buckets total in the freezer - three for the morning, three for noon, three for dinner - so make sure you dump all three buckets in the water, but don’t toss the actual bucket into the water.”

“What’s in them?” you ask, wrinkling your nose at the mixture within the buckets.

“A collection of shellfish - shrimp, crab, clam, lobster - and assorted fish are what they primarily eat,” Crewel answered as he closed the lid to the freezer, “We’ve tried feeding the moray twins octopi - but they refuse to touch it and often threw it at the feeders when they came in. Also, feel free to wear something comfortable. The water temperature varies from 45℉ to as low as 39℉ so we have to offset that with the atmosphere in our enclosure here at approximately 77℉ to 85℉ - never mind that one of the twins likes to splash newcomers right off the bat.”

“So, shorts are ok?”

“Shorts would be preferred, so yes,” Crewel nodded.

“But not too short - lower thigh length to knee length is acceptable,” Trein chided, “you are also permitted to wear sandals within the enclosure as well as a t-shirt or tank top due to the humidity. However, if you do choose sandals and tank tops - please bring a spare pair of tennis shoes to wear on the way in and on the way out as closed toed and heels are required within the labs and main building as well as something to keep your shoulders covered; this is a place of employment, not enjoyment.”

When you nod, Trein continued.

“After you feed them their breakfast, take a seat and use the notebooks over here to document any findings,” Trein walks to the opposite end of the enclosure, opening a locker filled with office supplies, “Take whatever you think you might need for the day and have a seat at the edge of the pool and begin your observations. It might take a few days before one of the twins actually approaches you, but once they do, you should be able to start the observations with no problems. During your first few days, remember to stay still - morays attack when startled or provoked, which we don’t want to happen. You’ll let them come to you and, hopefully once you get acquainted, you’ll be able to do your observations with no trouble at all.”

“Alright.”

“Your shift will be twelve hours total,” Trein also explained, “you will be expected to eat lunch with the trio and feed them their supper before you leave for the night at six pm and place any of your notes back in the locker here for Crewel or I to collect at the end of the day. When you leave, make sure the door is locked. Typically, we will be here until eight, so we often check the door on our way out - but just so you are aware, the door does get stuck on occasion; you may need to knock on the door a few times and one of us or our staff will get you out.”

You nod again.

“Alright, are there any questions?” Crewel asked.

“No, I think I’ve got it.”

“Very well,” Trein smiles, “We’ll see you tomorrow at six sharp - no later.”

“Thank you very much for this opportunity,” you bow your head to both of them before shaking each of their offered hands as the two escorted you out of the enclosure - none of you aware of the two sets of heterochromia eyes that watched your figure from below the water’s surface.

***

One week passes slowly as you go through the motions as the Twisted Wonders aquatic observer. 

Every morning, you arrive at quarter to six and greet Crewel and Trein at their laboratory doors. After they unlock and head into their own offices, you make your way to the enclosure and place your bag on the coat rack and the brown paper bag that contains your lunch in the freezer before hauling out the three of the nine gallon-sized buckets one at a time and dump the contents into the water, watching a little bit to see if anything will appear to snatch up a meal as the fish disappear into the murky depths of the pool. After watching the last piece of morsel disappear into the depths, you turn toward the locker, grabbing notebooks, pens and anything else you think you need and take a seat at the edge of the pool. 

As the hours pass by, you jot notes down about anything you see - which is nothing.

7:30am: Ripples of water, no sign of the creatures

10:30am: Still no sign of the creatures

12:30pm: Fed mers, no sign of breaking the surface yet - maybe they know I am waiting for them and want nothing to do with me?

2:30pm: Still no sign

4:30pm: I heard a splash, but saw nothing. Maybe they’re nervous?

6:00pm: Fed the mers their supper - Hoping to get a sign of them before I leave today.

Day after day after day, the notes were the same: No sign. No sign. No sign.

By the end of the first week, you were beginning to wonder if you actually would ever see the creatures or if they even existed - or even, heaven forbid, if you were a test subject yourself for believing that there were mers that lived in the enclosure. 

When Saturday morning came, you trudged into the enclosure with a heavy sigh and slowly began to begin the day’s events. Everything you did now seemed slower as the hope of seeing something otherworldly began to diminish like smoke. You pulled the first bucket of food out of the freezer and brought it to the edge of the pool, dumping the contents in before standing to return the bucket to the side of the freezer when something slimy and light hit the back of your head. Your hand instinctively reached up and brushed the hair behind your head, feeling traces of water and slime. You looked down to see what hit you, finding the bottom half of an unidentifiable colored fish laying behind you. 

Your eyes shifted to look out into the pool - but no movement or any indication that something had thrown the half of the fish at you could be seen.

‘Maybe I’m just imagining things,’ you thought as a sigh escaped your lips, picking up the fish and dropping it into the second bucket before it was dumped over the edge of the pool as well.

As you turned your back to grab the last bucket, again something smacked against the back of your head, a clicking sound following shortly afterwards.

‘Ok,’ you thought, a slight smirk appearing on your features as you picked up the large hunk of lobster from the ground, ‘whoever or whatever you are, I’m assuming you want to play. Well, let’s play.’

You grab the last bucket and dump the contents into the water and kneel at the edge - watching like a cat watches a mouse before pouncing. A few moments pass before you feel your back begin to strain, forcing you to stand. As you do, a whole king prawn nearly smacks you in the face as another round of clicking echoes in the enclosure. You whip your face toward the pool, just in time to see two sets of eyes watching you.

Silence defends the enclosure as the three of you stare in silence at one another.

Your heart races as you realize that the creatures staring at you must be the twins.

You can’t see them completely - their entire bodies are hidden under the water while the tops of their heads and their eyes are the only thing being seen from your position at the edge of the pool as they regard you from a few meters away - but you can see that they are nearly mirrors of each other.

They both have skin the color of seaweed with short hair to match - a longer piece the color of deep sea teal arching in the front of their faces. Instead of human ears, they have fins - likely hiding the gills they use to breathe underwater behind them. The one on your left appears to be more cautious than their twin on the right - their eyes are sharp, their right colored brown and left colored gold, and watching every movement you make as if calculating whether to attack you or not. The one on your right appeared to have more of a droopy expression on their face, their lower eyelids dropping into a bored expression, but their gaze is still sharp. Like their twin, their eyes are different colors - the left colored brown and the right colored gold instead.

You swallow thickly, unsure of what to do exactly. 

Moray eels attack if provoked, you recalled Crewel saying, so you didn’t want to make any sudden movements in case they read it wrong and attempt anything. However, it seems that the decision is quickly made when the one on your right slowly approaches the edge of the pool. You stay as still as possible as they approach, their eyes locked on yours as if in a trance. 

When they reach the edge, you can see the length of his body in the murky depths. His skin is a darker seaweed teal with little stripe patterns on his cheekbones and arms - with likely more on his lower body hidden deeper in the depths. Large fins poke out from his lower arms, giving him and his brother the ability to glide through the water quickly. You couldn’t see his tail, but if you had to guess - you thought he could be approximately six feet in length or longer.

Then, salted sea water covers your entire body, causing you to sputter at the surprise at getting splashed as the moray mer peeled in laughter. His brother follows up with three sharp clicks before the duo disappear under the water, leaving you to wonder what in the world just happened.

[15-lizards]

i saw your post about king's landing fashion/the influence of margaery, cersei and the factions dressing up like them, I ADORED IT! but it made me wonder how do you think fashion was during the dance? (better than in the show i hope...)

Yass let’s go 🤸🏻‍♀️🤸🏻‍♀️

If you thought the Tyrells were ridiculous in the 290s wait until you meet the Targ-Hightowers in the 110s. The girls are over the top they’re giving you ruffles, curls, jewels, damask, embroidery they’re giving you EVERYTHING. This is the peak of Targaryen power so it makes sense that it’s going to show through their clothing. Like tell me these pics aren’t Rhaenyra at her wedding and Alicent at Aegon’s coronation

Rhae runs those Kings landing fashion trends like the Navy. Veryyy detailed dresses she wants the best most intricate gowns that can be made. Inlaid pearls and jewels and embroidery all over. Lots of extra layers and extra fabric and big skirts just to show off that it can be afforded. I think she’s definitely fond of ringlets, at least in her youth. When she’s older it’s still curled, but kept in a tighter updo, though it’s still gorgeous

The Hightower faction is probably more conservative because of close ties with The Faith. They’re still giving looks though like it’s just more subdued. Hair is probably tied up and/or put under a headpiece, and there are probably a lot of symbols of the seven in their jewelry and such. Idk why but I think they definitely love a ruffle or high collar too. Once the war starts clothing gets a lot more muted and subdued, half because of mourning and half bc of resources being cut off

Honestly the boys in kings landing are giving the ladies a run for their money. Daemon tries to act like he doesn’t care but he’s showing up to court in his fancy new surcoat (ruffles included) to try and get Rhaes attention. Aegon doesn’t give a shit but Aemond NEEDS his new embroidered black doublet to match his black silk gloves and his black velvet pants and stockings or what even is the point.

And then for the nobility’s “casual clothes” (and the handmaidens regular clothing) it would be simpler, made of looser fabrics so it’s easier to lounge or work. No stiff damask or embroidery, but it still has decoration on necklines and cuffs bc a girls always gotta look cute, even when she’s chilling. The Targs and Hightowers are always having serve-off there’s no time to slack

[gumnut-logic]

Sherbet (Bit 2)

Bit 1 | Bit 2

@flyboytracy​​ could I borrow your ‘young Jeff’ piccy to go with this fic? Cos it would be perfect :D Also, still your fault (and yes, I have a tag for that too :D ).

Anyways, I’ve had a bit of a crappy day, so have a short little scene I wrote at the hairdressers continuing on from the first bit. I’ll get to Parker eventually, I promise. In the meantime, soooo much fluff, so, so much fluff.

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Jeff took the puppy to the locker room. Really, he wasn’t sure what else to do with him. Food and care was needed, but first all the dried sticky mess clogging its fur needed to  be removed.

Also, he had his own pile of grime to work with.

So, two thunderbirds, one shower.

He hadn’t planned it that way, but Sherbet would not let him put him down.

Jeff could be strong and make the decisions needed, but he’d been doing exactly that all day while wading through blood and tears.

He didn’t have the energy.

The little puppy joined him in his shower.

It did the both of them good.

And Jeff discovered that, yes, it was possible to shower with only one hand.

He did get some strange looks from his team.

Thunderbird One had made it back first like she always did and consequently both Scott and Kyrano were dressed in their casual clothes - Scott his usual preferred blue, almost the exact colour of his baldric. He rarely wore any other colour. Kyrano had his usual soft and loose off-white pants and top, complete with that embroidery around the neckline Lucy used to envy every time she saw it.

Probably one of the reasons Kyrano favoured the shirt.

Lee was as dressed in a towel as Jeff was.

Didn’t stop him staring.

“Uh, Dad, what’s with the dog?” In the shower. The smirk on his son’s face was amusement mixed with curiosity.

Kyrano arched an eyebrow and held out a gentle hand to the tiny puppy peering over Jeff’s hand.

Sherbet sniffed tentatively before licking their security specialist’s fingers.

“He wouldn’t let me put him down.” Scott opened his mouth but Jeff cut him off. “Reminds me of a toddler I once knew.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Dirty pool, Dad.”

“We are not on duty at this very moment, so I claim parental torture rights.”

His son rolled his eyes and despite his own weariness, Jeff found himself grinning.

Children were ever a source of amusement.

Kyrano’s voice was inquisitive and as smooth as silk as always. “Do you have a name, Mr Tracy?”

No question of why or if Sherbet was a new member of the family. Just simple acceptance.

No doubt the man would defend the dog with his life now.

“Sherbet. Found him drenched in the stuff.”

Scott was back to staring at the dog. “No owners?”

“Val’s enquiring.”

“You thinking of keeping him?”

Jeff found he was unconsciously scratching Sherbet under the chin. “Maybe.” A pause. “We’ll see.”

“Allie will love him.”

“Of that I have no doubt. Kyrano, could you take him a moment. Showering one handed is one thing, dressing is an entirely different challenge.”

“Of course, Mr Tracy.” He held out his hands.

Jeff awkwardly managed to keep his towel in place and not drop the puppy.

Sherbet squirmed and wriggled, obviously unhappy to be parted from his saviour. “It’s okay, little one, Kyrano is good man, you can trust him.”

“Thank you, Mr Tracy.”

“It’s the truth. C’mon, little one, you have to let me put some clothes on.” He blinked. “Definitely like a toddler I once knew.”

Scott glared at him.

But he finally managed to hand Sherbet to Kyrano, grab his clothes, and get himself dressed.

Sherbet whined the entire time, despite all Kyrano’s attempts to calm him down.

The moment Jeff was dressed, he took Sherbet from his friend’s hands just to kill off the noise.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had to do that.”

Scott turned his back on him with a groan.

Jeff grinned like a loon.

-o-o-o-

TBC

[roscgcld]

RYOMEN SUKUNA || my little flower

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: ryomen sukuna

pronouns: she/her 

notes: historical!sukuna x reader, slightly sexual (no smexy time involved lol - maybe another day ;)), quite fluffy towards the end

also - I’ve been reading so many sukuna hcs and imagines of him when he’s in his prime or during the historical era - so like excuse me as I politely simp for the man that is ryomen sukuna >< thank you 

references: https://www.japanese-wiki-corpus.org/literature/Ryomen-sukuna.html 

Sukuna leans back into the futon with a tired sigh, two of his arms folded behind his head while the other two held you against him securely. His ruby red eyes glanced away from the ceiling to look down at the woman curled up in his embrace, sleeping peacefully against him whilst her own soft arms were wrapped around his muscular torso. He admired your peaceful features at first, but soon his eyes started to travel down your delicate neck and cleavage, your soft skin marked by dark splotches where he had marked you up for the world to see.

Just the sight of the hickeys and bite marks caused Sukuna to smirk once more, the feeling of pride traveling through him at the sight of the hickeys, both new and old, marring your skin. It was a sight he would never get bored of seeing, since it was a constant reminder to you that you were his and no one else’s. 

Many would question just how did this happen - how did a simple human manage to ‘tame’ the infamous Sukuna - the King of Curses, who spreads chaos and bloodshed in his wake? How did you, a mere human woman who looked far too kind hearted and warm, ended up with such a fearsome man? 

Well, how this came to be was actually a cute story.

You grew up in a small village in Hida province, where many cities treated Sukuna as their patron deity. He was what people would call quite a cold ruler - one who would not hesitate to bring terror and bloodshed down on a town that had angered him. But at the same time, he was quite the generous man as well. He protects the people of the Hida and Mino Provinces, and many towns had florish and grow under his careful guidance.

Your town was one of the may towns that worshipped the Cursed Spirit, preparing offerings on special celebrations and always paying your respects whenever you go up to the ichinomiya on the weekends with your parents. It was because of one of these special celebrations that drew Sukusa to you.

It was one of the many days where offerings were given to him by townspeople, in hopes that they will still continue to get some form of protection from the unknown. He was their patron deity, after all. Even though many times he does all the things he does for his own benefit, it was nice to know that there are some who are gullible enough to think he does it for them. But he it’s one to complain - many of the offerings are things he does not mind indulging in. The best crops from the harvest, women for his ever growing harem, beautifully crafted weapons and clothes are the few he can keep in mind

Many times, he does not care to go through the offerings himself - Uraume goes through all of them and then gives him a general overview of everything. However, as he was walking past one of the neat piles of offerings, a particular garment box caught his eye; causing him to pause before he unwraps it curiously. 

Sitting inside the carefully wrapped package was a beautiful dark blue kinomo made of the finest silk, the fabric so smooth that it almost felt like water slipping through his fingers. Packed along with the kinomo was a beautifully crafted haori, a simple yet beautiful crane woven into the haori in white, the details done so carefully that when worn, the crane moves with the shifting of the fabric. The packet also came with a matching hakama made from the luxurious fabric, and a beautiful kaku obi made from navy blue, white and silver carefully weaved together into in a beautiful talent.

It was because of the level of craftsman ship that had Sukuna curious - who was the mastermind of something so beautiful?

He had went to the town where the garment was from and after some digging about, discovered about you. A daughter to a family of tailors, you were quite well known for your talents in embroidery and your mastery of the loom. Having gotten such talents, you crafted many beautiful pieces, and one of them was gifted to Sukuna himself recently. 

When he first saw you, he was struck by your beauty; how you had such a warm smile no matter who you were referring to. How your movements were graceful yet swift, your needle and threat embroidering the most beautiful depections of animals and flowers without a single mistake. How your voice was so sweet and calming that he can physically feel the tension from his body starting to unwind ever so slightly. If he could, he’d love to listen to your voice forever - which was what he intended to do. 

The first time you two met was actually in the dead of the night; you had stayed up later then usual, carefully embroidering a water lily onto a long fabric for a personal tapestry you wanted to hang in your room. A candle was burning by your work table, casting the engawa of your home in a soft but comforting glow; enough for you to do your work without straining too much. You were so fucsed on your work that you didn’t notice how the flames of your candle started to flicker in the glass holder; even though there was the air was still. Your eyes didn’t trail up from your tapestry even as a large figure quietly entered the hallway you were in; only pausing when you felt a huge presence looming over you.

Your bright eyes flickered upwards and met with four pairs of ruby red ones staring right back at you; all four of them shining in amusement. “You are quite oblivious, little one.” Sukuna hummed out with a soft grin, to which you just gave him a confused look as you tilted your head ever so slightly. “How did you get into my house?” You asked quietly, not even acknowledging how the man before you looked very different from what you’re used to; from the four muscular arms sprouting out from underneath the dark blue haori, the very same one that you had made for him. to the extra pair of eyes he sported on his face. Or how the top of his head was clearly brushing against the simple weed roofing of your family home.

“Is that really the first thing you’re going to ask, little one?”

From that day onwards, things definitely went a lot smoother then Sukuna could have imagined. At first the lack of reaction from you confused him, but he found it quite amusing nonetheless. Even after finding out that he was the same deity that you had heard stories of since you were in diapers, you acted no differently around him. You still talked and laughed with him like he was any other human. which for some reason made his heart feel warm and fuzzy. It makes him want to gather you up in his arms, protecting you from the horrors of the world.

The two of you will continue to meet up in the night like secret lovers; many nights he’d just lean against one of the pillars of your family home, with you perched in his lap as you work on different projects every night; talking about things that happen that day, or the funny stories that the townsfolk would share with you whenever they drop by to mend and purchase clothes, or when they dropped off freshly dyed fabrics. During a few of these nights Sukuna had suggested if you can help him mend a few of his kimonos, which you agreed to without hesitation. Some days you’d ever create new kimonos for him as well, which he would wear quite proudly. 

Soon these innocent nights of talking and laughter, him watching you do your work under the moonlight, to having you gasping and crying out for him as he took you over and over again in his grand bedroom; watching quite gleefully as he corrupted your innocence, ruining you for any other man. Ever since the first night you two shared in his bed, he knew that there was no turning back - there was no one else for him but you. 

And there was no way he was going to let some puny human even try to get in between the both of you.

With that he whisked you away from the somewhat mundane and boring life in your town, making you his entire world. He showered you with the finest gifts and opened the more human side of him to you; one that he thought he had lost the moment he had decided to go down the path he did. But you pulled these emotions out from him with ease, making him realise that he can chase all the power he want till the end of time and that will never satisfy him completely. 

All he needed was you, and everything feels right in the world.

“I’ve lost you again, haven’t I?”

Sukuna’s eyes snapped towards the direction of your sleepy voice, watching how you gave him the most beautiful yet sleepy smile as you carefully shifted your body so it was pressed against his. He marveled how your naked bodies clicked together seamlessly, even with the clear size difference between the two of you. “You will always have my attention, flower.”

The sound of the simple nickname cause a small smile tug against the corner of your lips, remembering how that nickname came about. You have always love studying flowers, since you enjoyed embroidering different sorts of flora and fauna onto different tapestries that now adorned the walls of the home you two share. You had once told him about your love of flowers, and because of that, you had came home one day to the courtyard in your shared home turned into your private garden; with flowers from all across the country planted at every nook and cranny. 

When you had asked Sukuna about it, he just shrugs and gave you an indulge smile - as if asking were you really shocked by his gift to you. When he realised just how deep your love for nature was, he had started to call you ‘his flower’, and the name has stuck since then. “What a sweet talker.”

A chuckle rumbled deep within his chest as one of his hands found purchase along your back, starting to massage what he was sure were your sore muscles; watching in satisfaction as you melted more into his chest. “Only for you.” He admitted quietly, to which you just gave him a loving smile as you rest your cheek against his chest once more; a soft finger started to trace along the tattoos on his skin. This action caused him to relax further into the futon, sighing softly in content. “Sukuna? Can we take a bath?”

“I’m lazy.” Sukuna stated with a soft groan as he glanced down at you once more, only to be met by the soft pout that you just know gets him to give in. This caused him to scowl as he cupped your face in one of his hands, gently squishing your cheeks between his fingers as he pushes himself up into a seated position. “You little minx.” He growls playfully whilst you just gave him a teasing smile, straddling his lap with your legs on either side of his whilst one of your hands wrapped around his wrist; causing him to loosen his grip on you whilst letting out a loud sigh. “How annoying.”

His arms suddenly wrapped around you before he got up from the comfort of the warm futon, causing you to giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Let’s go, flower.” He sighs dramatically before he walked you both to the bathroom, causing you to perk up before you lean over to press a loving kiss against his cheek; ignoring his soft eyeroll at your act of affection. As if he didn’t enjoy it whenever you do so. “I love you.”

“Of course you do.” He teases before he started to walk you two towards the bathroom, one of his hands skimming down to the small of your pack where a beautiful black tattoo rested against your soft skin; a tattoo that looks similar to the black lines that adorned his own skin. “You’re mine, after all.” He stated simply, causing you to roll your eyes at him playfully as he carefully sat you down on the wooden steps leading to the opening of the ofuro; watching as Sukuna started to prepare the bath for the both of you. “Wouldn’t it kill for you to just be a little nicer to me?”

Your teasing tone clearly didn’t win any points with him, who narrowed his eyes at you and before you know it you were suddenly pinned down against the wooden steps. A soft giggle left your lips at the narrowed eyes that stared back at you, causing Sukuna to scowl softly at your reaction. “Now you’re just asking for it, flower.” He growled before diving down to meet your lips in a passionate kiss; not being able to mask his smile at the sound of your soft laughter just as you wrapped your arms around him once more.

"My little flower..”

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[akingdomofswordsandstories]

Unrequited

azriel (acotar) x reader

Summary: takes place during acofas, you and Azriel are mates but he doesn’t know it yet, angst, fluff, and everything in between

*Also this is my first imagine ever so I'm sorry if it sucks lol! There will be a part 2 to this, but I am still working on it!!

word count: 3927

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

The winter solstice was in a few days and you weren’t sure what to get some of the inner circle. You walked briskly down the streets of the Rainbow, chilled to the bone due to the wind. You had made the dumb mistake of rushing out of the townhouse - to avoid any questions of where you were going - without taking your scarf. Your current outfit, which was a chunky knit blue sweater with leggings and boots, wasn’t enough to keep the chill away. But the cold wasn’t the most important thing on your mind. You had already bought presents for Rhys, Feyre, Amren, and Elain, but that left Cassian, Mor, and Azriel. Mor and Cass would be pretty easy to buy for, but you put it off knowing they would look through your room trying to find their solstice gift. But Azriel, that would be much harder.

Every waking hour, the shadowsinger haunted your thoughts. Something you had come to conclude was unrequited.

You had realized the mating bond between you two before he did.

It had clicked a few months ago while on a diplomatic mission. The aftermath of Hybern had left things chaotic, and if you were being honest, it still was. Rhys decided to send Cassian, Mor, Azriel, and you to travel to some of the other courts to bring back reports on the recovery after the war. However, traveling did have some dangers. While you were on your way back to Velaris from the Winter Court, your group was ambushed by a group of Hybern soldiers who had been hiding out in the mountains. Had it not been for Azriel’s wings shielding you from the initial arrows, you would’ve surely been dead, and that’s when it clicked for you. But like an idiot, you didn’t say anything.

You had thought if the bond had clicked for you, it would've clicked for Azriel too. You realized your mistake when Azriel hadn’t acknowledged any change between you two. You hoped that he would figure it out in the coming weeks, but he didn’t. You knew the same sort of situation happened with feyre and rhys so you still held out some hope. But as the months went by, and you realized the bond still hadn’t clicked for Azriel and it felt too late to tell him.

At least that was the excuse you made up. Truly, you were also afraid of the rejection that could have followed. You weren’t a fool, you knew him and Elain had some sort of connection, and that shattered your dreams even more. The possibility that he wouldn’t accept the mating bond to be with the fair skinned, doe eyed fae. Everytime Azriel was in the same room as Elain, she was the only thing he would pay attention to. During gatherings, you would plaster on a smile and act as if you were happy, but Cassian and Mor, your best friends, could sense your discomfort. They tried to ask you about it, but seeing as you would shut down anything they said, they decided not to pry too much. Amren ended up figuring out the source of your discomfort had to do with Azriel, but kept your secret until you would be ready to share it.

You came to the conclusion that distancing yourself from him would be the best option, so that's what you did.

You walked down the street till you got to one of the finest seamstresses is Velaris. Since you were an artist like Feyre, you decided to draw out a dress and have it made for Mor. The color was blood red, her signature. It was a silk slip dress that would come down to her mid-lower calf and it would be embroidered with a brilliant gold thread. You drew out a pattern of the sun, stars, and moon, which you hoped she would like. To go along with Mor’s dress, you got a jeweler to make a custom necklace and bracelet set to go with it. You designed more dainty jewelry that had gold stars with diamonds, since she was a dreamer.

You decided to design Cassian’s gift as well, creating a beautiful silver and black dagger with a moonstone on the hilt. It was a beautiful dagger, but you also made sure it was usable, because you would hate for it to go to waste. To add onto the combat theme, you also decided to buy him new fighting leathers with touches of red embroidery to match his siphons. Lastly, you bought Cassian a bottle of fae wine, which definitely wouldn't last long.

The last thing you got for all three of you was a friendship necklace. Although that sounds corny, the two of them had become such a positive force in your life and you couldn’t imagine life without them. Keeping with the celestial theme for the friendship necklaces, you bought a sun, a moon, and a star. The sun for Cassian, the moon for Mor, and the star for you. Although they are opposites in some ways, all three need each other, just like the three of you needed each other.

Now that you had gotten Mor’s and Cassian’s solstice gifts figured out, it was onto Azriel’s gift. You honestly had no clue what to get him. Due to distancing yourself, you weren’t sure if there was something that he wanted. You were positively stumped. Lucky for you though, you ended up spotting Mor in another shop a few stores down from where you were, most likely getting the rest of her solstice gifts. You decided to sneak up on her as a friendly prank. Grabbing her shoulders, you yelled in her ear, making her jump.

“Oh mother above, it’s just you, y/n! You scared the life out of me” Mor said.

“Doing some last minute shopping?” you asked. “I could ask you the same thing”. Giving her a playful smack on the arm, the corners of your mouth curled upward, even the simplest remark from her could make you smile.

The two of you were currently standing in front of a jewelry shop, looking at the collections of necklaces and earrings through the window. “Wow” you breathed out “These are all so beautiful”

“Indeed they are, although they’re quite pricey”

“How pricey is pricey?”

She whispered the amount in your ear and you stopped breathing for a second, “Holy Mother wow, that is quite the price tag. At least we can admire it from a far”, you laughed out. Even though you got a very generous salary from Rhys, you still felt guilty spending so much money on materialistic things.

After a moment you said, “Actually, since you’re here, I do need help finding a solstice gift for Azriel”, softening your voice at the end, “Any ideas?” you asked, drawing out the syllables.

“Well, I always get Azriel some cool towels, clothing, or a dagger!” Mor said. A small scoff came out of my mouth as I shook my head and raised my eyebrows. “Fine!” she exclaimed, “I may have overheard him needing a new leather sheath for Truth Teller.” grumbling towards the end. “Oh that sounds great, thank you for the help! Now let’s go off to the closest leather goods store and find a sheath!”.

“y/n! I still have shopping to do” a scowl appearing on her face. “Fine, I guess I’ll just call Cassian, cause his judgement might be better than yours, when it comes to knife related things of course” you said, baiting her.

“Ugh, I hate you y/n”

“I hate you too Mor”

“Fine, let's get going before I change my mind” she grumbled. Then we took off down the streets of the Rainbow to find a sheath.

The task was easier said than done, for you at least. Being indecisive and a major over thinker, you had looked through close to 100 sheaths, but none of them seemed good enough to hold the blade that Azriel never let anyone else touch. Except Elain.

While you were lost in your thoughts, you laid your y/c eyes on the perfect sheath. It had a bright cobalt blue stitching to match Az’s siphons. Along the tip and lining the top of the leather was a thin coat of silver plating with little sapphires embedded in the metal. You quickly snatched it up and paid a hefty price for it, but it was perfect.

“Thank god you finally picked one, it felt like we were in that store for centuries”. Mor sighed, probably a sigh of relief for getting out of the store, “But y/n, it’s perfect, I know Azriel will love it”

“Do you really think so? I just want it to be the perfect gift and I’m scared he won’t like it because what if it’s too simplistic and what if-”

“Hey! It's perfect! Don’t stress too much y/n. And for the record, I think that you’re an amazing gift giver - the amount of thought you put into gifts make it all the better.”

You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and mumbled a small thank you.

“Anyway while we’re here do you need to get anything to go with your solstice outfit?”

“Oh Actually, I was so stressed about getting everyone’s solstice gift that I forgot to buy my dress” your voice falling off at the end. You felt yourself being yanked to a harsh stop and the saw Mor’s face staring at yours, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

“Are you crazy?? Solstice is in 3 days and you still don’t have anything??? Oh honey, our shopping isn’t done yet.” And with that statement you found yourself being pulled into the nearest dress shop. After trying on nearly 20 dresses you finally found the perfect one, which Mor approved. It was a light blue silk dress that was more fitted at the top but flared down at your waist. It had a cowl neckline, a slit going up the side to the mid upper thigh, and accentuates your curves beautifully and has a slight shimmer to it. You looked ethereal in it

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

After your exhausting day of shopping, you couldn’t wait to get out of the cold. You swiftly walked back to the townhouse. Once inside you made your way to your room to set down the gifts, change your clothes, and grab your book. Then you quietly headed down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and sat on the couch to read. The house was quiet since all of the others decided to go to Rita’s tonight. You decided to stay home for some much needed relaxation. You opened your book and started reading. After a few hours, you felt your eyes drooping and eventually, sleep consumed you.

The loud noise of the front door caused you to stir and your eyes fluttered open. You were too exhausted to look so you just laid your head back down and tried to go to sleep. You could hear Mor whispering something and then felt yourself being lifted off the couch and being held close to a chest with your blanket still draped on you.

“Cass?” you whispered hoarsely along with a string of incoherent words

You heard a slight laugh “Not Cass but It’s ok, go back to sleep”. Then you felt yourself being gently placed on your bed and the sleep hit you before you could mutter a thank you.

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

The sun was setting towards the sea as you sat in the sitting room of the town house. You were in your blue silk dress with a glass of wine in your hand. Rhys and Feyre were by the mantel, quietly talking while Mor and Amren were across the room. Near the window I saw Elain, and from the corner of my eye I could see Azriel making his way towards her. My face fell but I quickly plastered on a smile, not wanting to concern anyone. Especially since today was also Feyre’s birthday and we had planned a surprise for her. Feyre thought she could slip her birthday past us, but we hadn’t forgotten. After a few minutes, Cassian made his way from the kitchen with the enormous cake.

You floated towards Feyre and gave her arm a light squeeze. “Happy Birthday, make a wish before the candles melt!”

She blew out the candles and then we ate cake before opening up the presents.

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

Rhys snapped his fingers and piles of brightly wrapped bags and boxes filled up the sitting room. Amren was the first to open her presents. Naturally, everyone got her something jewelry related. Amren opened mine and you saw a wide smile set across her face, she picked up the diamond necklace and nodded a ‘thank you’ your way. You returned the gesture back, a small smile forming on your face.

Next, Cassian handed Mor her present from him and she pulled out a-. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He bought her red lingerie. Your face turned slightly red, but the Mor said “Don’t let him fool you: he couldn’t think of a damn thing to get me, so he gave up and asked me outright. I gave him precise orders. For once in his life, he obeyed them.”

Then, you heard one sharp knock at the door.

Nesta.

You saw Cassian tense up a bit. Nesta walked in, linking arms with Elain. She got a glass of wine before heading to sit in a chair in the back of the room. The silence was deafening. Finally Varian started talking and the present opening resumed.

From Amren, you received a new calligraphy set. It was so beautiful and you loved it. From Rhys, you got some books. It was perfect since you loved to read, and they were ones that you had been wanting to read for a long time. From Feyre, you received a painting as well as a new paint brush kit.

Cassian made his way to you and set a gift down in your lap. You opened the dark blue box that Cassian had placed in your lap. He had gotten you a sky blue hardbound journal with a gold embossed star on it. You desperately needed a new one, and this was perfect. You walked over and gave him a hug, whispered “Thank you, I love it.”.

Next you opened Mor’s present. You nearly choked when you saw what she got you and your whole face heated up. She got you a matching navy blue lingerie set like the one Cassian bought her.

“Yeah, I wasn’t too sure what to get you so I thought we could twin”. You looked around the room and saw the others holding in their laughs. You could’ve sworn you saw a tinge of red on Azriel’s ears. You just smiled and mouthed a silent “I’m going to kill you, but thank you” at her.

There wasn’t anything from Azriel. Your heart twinged. Had you not been important enough? It was just a present you reminded yourself, fixing your composure before handing Cassian his present.

He ripped it open like an animal, squealing when he saw it. A promising reaction given the amount of thought you put into it.

“Did you design these? They look amazing!”

“Yeah, I’m glad you like it. It took a long time to figure out what to get for your dumb ass”

“You mean my cute ass”, you smacked his arm and then got up to give Mor her present.

You closely watched her reaction as she opened her dress and jewelry, a large smile spreading across her face.

“You really buy the perfect presents y/n, I love it”.

“Oh Cass, Mor. One more thing.” You pulled out the small boxes with the friendship necklaces and bracelets handing it to them. “This was just a little something extra I thought of, I hope you like it”. You knew you would have started stuttering and crying if you had said the meaning to them, so you just handed them notes instead. They read over them, eyes glossing over, and pulled you into a hug.

“This is the only time I’ll wear jewelry” Cass stated, causing you to chuckle

Then Mor said, “I am never taking this off” causing you to laugh again.

Finally, Azriel opened up his presents. He had opened up all the others. All that was left was yours and Elain’s gift to him. He found his way to your present first, opening it.

“A new sheath for Truth Teller. I heard you needed a new one” you quietly said.

He held your gaze and smiled, “Thank you, it's great”. Suddenly feeling exposed, you quickly gave him a nod.

Then he went to open Elain’s gift. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” she said.

Silence.

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

You hadn’t heard him laugh before, and mother above it was gorgeous. You had never heard a sound so deep and joyous, a sound which made your heart clench. A part of you wished you were the reason he was laughing. You forced on a smile and spent the rest of the night drinking away the slight pain in your chest.

You were exhausted by the end of the night, sitting on the couch with Cassian and Mor, Azriel and Rhys seated on the opposite side of you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement towards the door, and craned your head to see what was going on. It was Nesta making her way to the door. You felt the couch lift next to you.

Cassian. He had swiftly pushed past Feyre and went after Nesta. This wouldn’t end well.

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

Cassian had come back quiet and brooding, walking straight to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of liquor. You got up off the couch and followed him straight into the kitchen.

“Cass, let’s take a walk, yeah?”

“I just took a walk”

“It wasn’t a question”. You grabbed a white shawl and his hand and led him outside. “What happened?”

“What’s there to talk about? It was like all the other times. Why did I have to fall in love with someone who doesn't even love me back. Who looks at me like the Illyrian born bastard I am. Who hates the idea of being in the same room as me.”

You grabbed Cass’ hand, lightly squeezing it. “Don’t say that. Nesta, she,” your voice stopping for a second “She’s different. The way she handles pain and copes is different. Give her time. She just needs time. I know how much that may pain you, but you can’t rush healing”

You pulled him into a hug

“And for the record, I know the feeling more than you know” you quietly said “unrequited love”, head pointed at the ground.

Cassian tilted his head down to look at you, his face painted with confusion. You could tell he wanted to know more, but didn’t want to pry too much.

You hesitated before continuing, not sure if you wanted to reveal your closely guarded secret. “I-“ your voice faltering, “I found my mate”. The words seemed to have rushed out of your mouth and tears pricked your eyes as you said that. After months of hiding it, you had finally gotten it off your chest.

Cassian stood shocked, staring at you. “You found your mate? And you didn’t think to tell any of us? How long ago was this”

“I-, I found out who he was around the same time Rhys sent us on that diplomatic mission. And I didn’t tell anyone because he doesn’t even know yet.”

“That was almost 6 months ago, and you didn’t say anything?”.

The tears had started flowing at this point, “I thought he would figure it out. But by the time I realized he wasn’t going to figure it out, it was too late. He had already set his eyes on someone else. And I know I could never compete with Elain, even if I am his mate.” the last part slipped out without you realizing.

“Elain? What does she-“ his eyes widening “Does that mean Az is-“

You slowly nodded, tears welled up, threatening to spill out.

“Oh, mother…”, he pulled you into a tighter hug and that’s when the gates broke. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you sobbed into Cassian's chest, his hand stroking your back.

you must have been there for 15 minutes before you realized the other might start getting suspicious. Regaining your composure, you dried your tears and tried, to the best of your ability, to hide that you had been crying.

Looking back at Cassian, you gave him a slight smile before muttering, “Thank you. I’m sorry for dumping that on you, but please promise me you won’t tell anyone. Please.”

“Of course y/n, and don’t apologize, if it makes you feel better, it helped to take my mind off of Nesta and my own problems, which I desperately needed” he chuckled out.

With the smile still on your face, you linked arms with Cassian before saying, “Oh mother above it’s freezing, let’s get back inside before we turn into popsicles!”

He let out another laugh before the two of you made your way back into the house.

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

You walked into the house and your sliver of happiness was crushed as you saw Az and Elain sitting at the table smiling and laughing quietly to themselves. Elain had her sketchbook out, showing Az her plans for the garden.

Your distraught had been clear to anyone who saw your face, and you were too tired to realize you weren’t able to hide it fast enough. Not being able to view the scene anymore, you quickly got up, muttered happy solstice, and grabbed your coat and purse before heading out the door to your apartment.

While walking home, you were consumed by your thoughts. You hated the pangs of jealousy that coursed through you. You often found yourself jealous of her soft spokenness and kindness. You also found yourself jealous of her effortless beauty. It was something that kept you up at night. She was so likeable and easily approachable, something you wished you were.

You were so drowned in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed a male following you till it was too late. One of his hands clamped on your mouth while the other grabbed your waist and pushed you into the nearest alleyway.

The male pulled out a knife and your tears started to fall. You were terrified about what he would do to you. This could be the last time you would have seen your family. You were struggling and kicking against him but it was no use. Your senses were groggy from the alcohol and drowsiness.

You had been so stupid to walk home alone at 2 in the morning. No matter how angry you were, you should’ve just stayed at the town house.

Before you could realize what was happening, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your side.

The sound of a clatter.

Receding footsteps.

A crimson stain blooming.

Your body crumpled to the ground and your vision started blacked out. This was it. Nobody could hear you and nobody could save you.

[hnderyx]

If requests are still open, may I request WayV reaction to their s/o’s nipples showing through their shirt (nsfw)?

Still day 24798862202299 of me loving your writing 😆 if you don’t want to write this for any reason, you are so fine, no pressure at all! Love you 💗💗

WayV's Reaction to: When Your Nipples are Visible Through Your Shirt (NSFW)

Thank you so much for enjoying my writing 💕

You don't have to worry about anything when requesting from me! I can basically write for anything. I don't mind.

Though I may be more experienced in some things than others, my future requesters... I'll still try my best! ^-^

And I genuinely hope that this is alright ❤️ Please enjoy.

Kun:

Kun isn't really the type of guy to get all bent out of shape when you're wearing his clothing

But Jesus

Seeing you standing in front of his bookshelf, scanning through one of his novels

Your nipples slightly poking against the fabric of the white t-shirt you've stolen from him

He can't help but feel aroused

Coming up behind you, he wraps his arms around you before resting his chin on your shoulder

"You're really reading something racy, y/n? 50 Shades?"

He slips his hand underneath your shirt, rubbing patterns into your lower abdomen

"You're the one who owns the novel, Kun..."

His fingers ghost up your stomach and stop beneath your breast before pinching your nipple between his index finger and thumb

He presses a kiss into the crook of your neck

"Forget it... Something about the way your body looks in this shirt has gotten me aroused, y/n. How about we try some of the things you've skimmed over in the book, hm?"

Ten:

Coming home from practice to see you sensually dancing around the living room was definitely a treat for Ten

But as he noticed that you were wearing one of his silk button up dress shirts

And how you could vaguely see the peaks of your nipples through the fabric

He pretty much spirals into arousal, very fucking fast

The want to take each one into his mouth and tease you until you're desperate overtook him

"You knew I was coming home soon, huh? You just wanted to give me a nice after work treat... Such a good girl"

He walks to you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your chest to his

You gave him a bit of a hesitant nod as his hands slip under the trim of your his shirt

He pecks your lips, before kissing along your jawline and giving a lick along the cartilage of your ear

"How about we do a bit of a different dance together, y/n?"

Winwin:

Poor Sicheng would probably malfunction

He'd find it insanely hot to see how your nipples show through your new silk nightgown

He imagines how it'd feel to trace his fingers over them through the fabric

How it'd feel to feel the embroidery along the v cut neckline

How you'd look beneath him as he makes love to you, the spaghetti straps slipping off of your shoulders

"You look so... Beautiful, y/n"

He wraps his arms around you from behind as he kisses down the nape of your neck, hands slowly inching from your waist to your breasts

Eventually, he rubs his fingertips teasingly over your nipples, earning a gentle whine from you

When you two ramp it up to sex, he'd probably want you to keep the gown on

But have your breasts pulled out over the neckline to give him a view of what started the situation in the first place

Lucas:

Coming out of the shower to be met with you wearing just the dress shirt he had on the night before sent shivers of arousal down his spine

The way you had the top buttons undone down to the middle of your chest

And how your nipples teased him through the thin fabric

It made Lucas flustrered, yet unbelievably aroused

"What are you wearing my shirt for, y/n..?"

He walks up behind you and pulls you into an embrace, your scent along with the scent of his cologne wafting into his nose

"It smells like you, Yukhei... It feels like I'm always in your arms"

He hums as he kisses along your shoulder, "do you think you can handle another round after last night, baby?"

Xiaojun:

Malfunction pt. 2

Xiaojun would be so flustered

Seeing you in a bit of a skimpy bikini

But to make it worse for him,

The cold air as a contrast to the warmth of the hot tub you were both relaxing in

Caused goosebumps to break out all over your body, along with your nipples becoming a bit... More noticable

His face would flush as he looks around, in hopes of not embarrassing both of you

But when you place yourself on his lap, straddling him and pressing your chest against his

He loses his mind

Tries to keep his actions low-key as he pushes the fabric of your bikini top off of your breasts and flicks the pad of his thumb over the erect nubs

He takes one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before pulling back with a lewd pop

"You think maybe we should go do something else, baby..?"

Hendery:

Coming to bed after a late night game with Sicheng, he admires your sleeping form

But one thing that sticks out to him

Is how your nipples poke against the fabric of his thin shirt you've decided to claim as yours

And obviously it's quite an arousing sight for him

Seeing you layed out, your chest slowly rising and falling as you enjoy your slumber

He slips his hand under your shirt, rubbing your hip bone gently in an attempt to wake you

But he's tempted, arousal pumping through his veins at this point

It's slightly embarrassing... The rate he gets excited for you

"Baby... I need your help"

You stir in your sleep, mumbling a soft "with what?"

His hands slide further up your torso before pinching your nipples between his fingers, rolling them in painfully slow patterns

"I'm a bit excited for you... I need you to help me"

Yangyang:

Waking up and rolling over to see you the first thing in the morning is something Yangyang adores

So when he rolls over and sees you looking out the bedroom window, the sun highlighting your curves through the thin white pyjama blouse you were wearing

He pretty much marvels at your beauty

His eyes scan over your body

Stopping at how the light has illuminated your breasts, accentuating how your nipples pressed at the shirt

He finds his way next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he presses a kiss against your forehead

"Good morning, beautiful..."

His hand that was placed on your waist slowly snakes up to under your breast before rubbing circles around your clothed nipple

A moan slips from your mouth as he does this and you press yourself further into his warm body

After a few moments of touching, you two decide that maybe the morning should start off with showing each other your love

[ace-trainer-risu]

what are your fave diana wynne jones books that aren’t howl’s moving castle??

Oh whattt a lovely and fun question which I was definitely not secretly hoping someone would ask!!!! Yay!!

Hm okay so, not specifically in order, probably my top fave Diana Wynne Jones books would be:

Deep Secret! Deep Secret is not just one of my favorite books by DWJ but one of my favorite books full stop! It’s so good. Basically, the premise is that there is an infinite series of interconnected worlds, some of which have magic and some of which don’t, at the center of which is a vast interdimensional magical empire. Magic in the multiverse is overseen by an organization of magicians called Magids and there must always be a specific number of Magids in existence. When Rupert, a young Magid living on Earth, discovers that his mentor has died (ish) he becomes unexpectedly responsible for finding and training the next Magid, which is extremely inconvenient timing for him because the aforementioned magical empire is on the brink of civil war and chaos and its his job to stop it. And also almost all of this takes place at...a science fiction convention. It’s amazing.  I have read this book minimum four (probably more) times and every time it’s absolutely delightful and hilarious. I would like to go to the sci fi convention in this novel more than anything. It’s such a good read and its one of her few novels which is specifically aimed at adults, so I would EXTREMELY recommend it. Plus the romance in it is extremely good...not exactly enemy-to-lovers but more like ‘annoys-the-shit-out-of-each-other’ to lovers.  (**One note about this one...there’s a few very briefly mentioned side characters who are gender noncomforming and even tho they are actually portrayed very positively, it’s not necessarily ideal and 100% respectful (basically the protags comment on them being very beautiful and nice but also keep trying to guess their “real” gender). Additionally there’s a different briefly mentioned side character who is fat who isn’t portrayed very nicely. Both of these are brief incidents, just wanted to provide a warning for them)

Dark Lord of Derkholm - Okay this one is weirdly hard to summarize but it’s about this magical fantasy world which has been taken overy and is being used as a tourist destination by a non-magical world (heavily implied to be Earth) for people who want to role play at being in a classic high fantasy story, including fighting and killing THE DARK LORD...who is really just a random magician pretending to be evil. The inhabitants of the fantasy world do not enjoy this and are trying desperately to stop the tours, but unfortunately according to a magical oracle, their best hope of stopping the tours is this year’s Dark Lord, a hapless farmer magician named Derk, and his, um, eccentric family consisting of his glamorous wife, seven children (of whom five are griffins and one is a bard) and a simply improbable amount of magical animals. And also there is a very good dragon.  I think Derkholm is so great as a novel b/c it’s a very funny, loving but sharp, parody of high fantasy stories...but a lot of the time parodies only function as parodies but not as good stories in their own right, you know? But this novel completely functions as a story too, and in fact the first time I read at maybe age nine or ten, the high fantasy parody went completely over my head...but I still loved it. I also really love that this novel is very accessible to all ages, I think I enjoy reading it as an adult just as much as I did as a kid, which is rare.  For anyone who has read Howl’s Moving Castle but nothing else by DWJ and isn’t sure where to start, I think this is a great place to start. (TW: There’s a brief, non-explicit scene which has implied sexual assault.) 

Fire and Hemlock - This may be the most controversial one since it features a romance with a significant age gap where the two characters meet when one is a child and the other an adult. And I fully agree that that’s :/ and normally that trope is NOT my thing but it doesn’t come off at all creepy in this story imo, and if you think you can deal with that then this is a very weird, atmospheric, cool book about storytelling and fairy tales and growing up. The short summary (this is another hard to summarize one) is that as a child, Polly encounters and strikes up a friendship and correspondence with a young man, Tom, which mainly consists of the two of them jointly making up a silly, ongoing fairy tale type story...but things get weird when parts of their story start to come true in real life.  I’ve only read this one twice but it really stuck with me and in fact just describing it here...really makes me want to read it again!

The Chrestomanci Series - So all of the above are either specifically aimed at adults or a general audience whereas the Chrestomanci series is aimed at children, mainly a middle grade type audience. And tbh I started reading them as a kid (fond memory - I bought an omnibus of the first two with my allowance money...b/c it had a cat on the cover!) so I don’t know what it would be like to first read these as an older teen or an adult. BUT. Honestly they are really good and would be a quick read so I do still recommend them. There’s seven overall, with th seventh being a collection of short stories, and they’re only semi-chronological so the reading order isn’t vital. My recommended order (b/c this the order I read them in, haha) is Charmed Life, The Lives of Christopher Chant, The Magicians of Caprona, Witch Week, The Pinhoe Egg, Conrad’s Fate, and then Mixed Magic you can read whenever you want so long as you read it after Charmed Life and The Magicians of Caprona.  So the very core premise of it is not dissimilar to Deep Secret - there’s an infinite series of worlds/universes and there’s a magician, called the Crestomanci in this case, who is responsible for making sure magic isn’t abused across the multiverse. The Chrestomanci is an extremely powerful enchanter who has nine lives, and the novels are various semi-connected stories about the adventures of Chrestomanci as an adult and child. Chrestomanci is a title so it’s not always the same person, but for the majority of the stories it is the same guy and he’s...the best/worst...He’s this extremely handsome, charismatic, powerful enchanter who is very good at his job, loves his wife a lot, wears very beautiful clothes and makes, um, questionable life choices and is very annoying to everyone. I’ve thought about this very hard and I believe that he’s what happens when you take a fundamentally chaotic good person and make him do a fundamentally lawful good job; yes, he’s going to do it and do it well, but he is going to do it in the most chaotic, ridiculous way possible, and he IS going to die at an ALARMING rate, doing things that would not normally kill a person, such as playing cricket and trying to catch stray cats. He also, as previously mentioned, frequently wears very dramatic silk dressing gowns with elaborate embroidery, which the protag of Charmed Life finds deeply alarming.  It’s very odd to me how these books don’t seem to be well known, because the Chrestomanci books were some of my absolute favorite books as a child. I still have my omnibus editions of the first four novels and they are very worn and very beloved. And it’s so WILD to me that I don’t think I have ever talked to someone who also read those as a kid! Like I’m not saying those people don’t exist, I’m sure I just haven’t met them, but that’s so weiiirddddd to me. If I bring up Tamora Pierce or Garth Nix or other authors of weird, eccentric children’s fantasy novels to other avid childhood consumers of fantasy, people usually know what I mean, but Chrestomanci and its just..crickets. Is it b/c she’s British? Anyway all of the Chrestomanci books are very degrees of good, but if I had to pick a favorite, I think, controversial choice here, it would be Conrad’s Fate. Particularly in terms of recommendations to others, Conrad’s Fate works as a standalone and, unlike the other books in the series, it’s aimed more at a YA audience, so if you wanted to read a Chrestomanci novel without getting into the whole series, that’s a good way to go. It’s about a boy, Conrad, who is told that he has a terrible, possibly fatal Fate awaiting him unless he goes to work as a servant at a wealthy, and weird, estate neighboring his town, at which place he encounters things including color changing livery, an extremely annoying teenage Chrestomanci, and the greatest liminal space house EVER. It’s like a combination of an upstairs/downstairs Downton Abbey type social drama with bizarre fantasy shenanigans. How could that not be good??

Also as Honorable Mentions - A Sudden and Wild Magic and The Time of the Ghost. A Sudden and Wild Magic is fun b/c it’s one of her few works aimed specifically at adults and it’s (gasp) a little bit NAUGHTY which I was very surprised and delighted by when I read it. (This may seem like an unfair statement considering that Deep Secret fully has an orgy in it, but Rupert is so fundamentally unnaughty of a character that he completely unnaughtifies the whole novel, whereas Sudden and Wild Magic embraces being a (little bit) naughty.)   The Time of the Ghost on the other hand is weird and haunting and creepy and atmospheric. I only read it once but it’s one of those novels you just think about periodically and go “wait what the fuck that was a weird novel” (Also known as the “Garth Nix” effect) 

[psychologeek]

so, I stole @captainkirkk‘s idea, and now present to you:

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. NOT E-rating

ATLA

The (Mis)Adventures of Ambassador Sokka by:  That_Amazing_Asexual

starting with:  Diplomatic Immunity

Sokka may have done something mildly illegal. Only a third-degree felony, at the most. But that wasn’t the point.

Sir, This is My Emotional Support Turtleduck by BalrogDeMorgoth

A stressed out Zuko gets an Emotional Support Turtleduck, which he end up sharing with Azula. The Council learns to live with it.

A viper-lizard's tales by Yumi_Take

The desert sun burns and Zuko probably shouldn't touch the moving cloth, but he does anyway.

[PG: it’s just sooo cute! i really loved it!]

Hope Is A Mistake by Chuthulhu (Mangaluva), Mangaluva Zuko didn't escape the Fire Nation on the day of the eclipse. Azula decides to invite him to her coronation, setting off a chain of events involving abuse, trauma, siblings, recovery, and rebuilding.

the very reason you're alive for by lesmiserablol for remussimp (demiboy_zuko)

Azula's life isn’t glamorous. It isn’t close to the life she ever imagined for herself. It is the kind she had sneered at once, deeming it for the peasants while she was destined to always be a princess.

She rises and rests with the sun. She gathers eggs from the pickens. She starts fires using spark rocks.  

Zuko has offered to teach her how to firebend again, how to find a source to reignite her inner fire, but she has never taken him up on it. Sometimes she tries, just to see what will happen, and sees only smoke come from her fingers. Eventually she stops trying.

(or: Azula goes to therapy, starts a garden, bonds with her brother, learns to bake, and meets her niece, but not necessarily in that order.)

Desperate Times by Dawen

Ursa sat in her seat, pride of place as the only adult member of the royal family in the audience. She wore a small, concerned frown, watching the introduction of the fight, keeping a close eye on her husband. She worried; Ozai seemed a little… off. Enough to lose the fight? Ursa didn’t know.

To her right, Zuko squirmed uncomfortably. To her left, Azula held perfectly still, a small smirk curling at the corners of her mouth. Ursa had no doubt that she fully expected her father to win.

And then, five minutes into the Agni Kai, the unthinkable happened.

(Fire Lord Azulon doesn't die in his bed, mere days after the news of Prince Lu Ten's death reaches the palace. But it's still not long until Ursa's life changes forever, and her children's with it.)

The Stitches that Bind us Together by SunflowerSkys

Azula looks at it with disdain. ‘What’s this.’ she says in a voice so patronizing that he immediately feels offended.

5 year olds have no right to be able to achieve that tone he thinks indignantly

‘It’s a dragon, obviously.’ he huffs. Azula squints at the silk in front of her ‘Are you sure? This looks more like a tiger-eel to me.’ Zuko glares at her. ‘It’s a dragon’ he repeats.

Just an idea about embroidery traditions.

Mountains and Badgermolehills by Glass_Onion

After the Blue Spirit frees the Avatar from the Pohuai Stronghold, Admiral Zhao captures Prince Zuko under suspicion of treason. Isolated from his Uncle and his crew, Zuko has only one ally: the chatty prisoner one cell over.

On Top of the World by mindbending for Museflight

“Lord Agni,” Azula says, swallowing a laugh. It’s hilarious that she’s down on her knees, praying like she can rely on any force but herself. “I have power, but I’d like some more if you’d be so obliging. Power to get the things I want. Power so grand, it’ll shock everyone on earth- even me, if you can manage that.” She snorts before adding on her last ridiculous, meaningless request. “Power to match the Avatar’s or outdo him, if you’d like!”

Or: after the Boiling Rock debacle, Azula gets what she didn't quite wish for and wakes up as an airbender.

No friend like a sister by Dissenter

In which Ursa dies in childbirth, Zuko becomes the most obsessively overprotective big brother imaginable, and Azula looks up to the big brother who raised her a lot more than her mostly absent father.

Gratidad by nbj

Gratidad - noun / ˈɡrætɪdæd /

A deeply grateful father who tries to instill this gratitude to the Prince of the Fire Nation, to whom he owes his daughter's life. But with strong painkillers, childhood trauma and Zuko's general awkwardness, it's not as easy as Hakoda had imagined.

Encanto

Object Permanence by a_6yearold_inside

Bruno made the effort to get to know all his nephews and nieces while in the walls and now he was out! It was great! He got to hug his sisters again, and join the whole town in rebuilding their home. It was great.

…except he wasn’t really sure Camilo existed.

In which Camilo's been doing a lot of shape shifting recently, Bruno doubts his sanity and assumes the worst.

[nxrthmizu]

#28 with Daminette, please! Also I love your works!

Prompt: ‘Pretending to be a couple and this is a huge mistake AU’ 

Pairing: Daminette

Words: 2904 words 

Note: I kind of changed up the idea a little, hope you don’t mind... 

[Thank you so much for the request hun, I’m so sorry it took be so long...

Enjoy! 💖💖💖]

- Cady

---

Damian had always thought that turning eighteen was a privilege. Boy, was he wrong. It was, in fact, a nuisance.

“Mr. Wayne! Do you have a special someone yet?”

“Mr. Wayne, my daughter is 18 and single, would you like to-”

"Mr. Wayne-"

Galas became a swarming mass of reporters and fathers seeking marriage for their daughters. He could constantly feel chills along his back as women stared at him shamelessly as if he were a prize, their predatorial gaze piercing through his soul. Annoyance tainted every aspect of his features at galas, his siblings constantly reminding him to not scowl so much. But honestly, could you blame him? He couldn’t go anywhere without being pestered by twenty reporters about his love life.

Heck, if he wanted to get a cup of coffee by himself, he had to dress up like a criminal avoiding attention. Lucky for him, there was one special cafe that was out of the way and always offered a little quiet for him- As quiet as it could get, anyway.

The Lucky Bug Cafe.

It was quiet and tucked behind a little street, often filled with just one or two students studying quietly and an old couple casually relaxing by the corner. The Lucky Bug Cafe was run by a single, dark-haired woman who looked at him and thought: ‘Ah, he needs somewhere to lay low for a while’ instead of ‘It’s the heir of the Wayne Enterprises, the Damian Wayne’.

It was another casual morning, and Damian needed his fix of coffee before heading to the office, where he would oversee his father’s (And soon to be his) employees while self-studying his business course. A long day lay in wait ahead of him, and Damian would appreciate and nice, aromatic cup of brewed coffee before he had to survive on the machine-made coffee for the rest of the day.

“Good morning.” The dark-haired woman greeted him with a warm smile, her bluebell eyes twinkling under the glow of the yellow lightbulbs. “The usual?”

“The usual.” Damian nodded, hoodie covering his face.

Leaning against the counter, he watched as she bustled around the area, turning on the machine, humming a song to herself as she headed over to the fridge for fresh milk. He glanced at the glass display case under the counter, eyes flitting over the batches of pastries that she had made for the day.

“Could I get five mint-flavoured macarons, please?” He asked as she set his coffee on the collection counter.

“Oh, of course.” She smiled brightly, already grabbing a paper bag. “They’re my new recipe! Do tell me what you think of them tomorrow.”

Damian smiled, his features softening at the woman’s words. “Sure. Oh, and how’s your website holding up?”

Perhaps one of the reasons they clicked so well together was because they were both... Well, famous. Except that he was the future boss of the Wayne Enterprises and she was the anonymous designer of Nette’s Design and Clothing. Articles concerning the identity of the anonymous designer popped up occasionally on Gotham’s magazines, not to mention that the celebrities that wore her work often ended up on the front page of fashion magazines.

“Good. It’s getting a little flooded these days, but I think I’ll manage.” She said with a giggle, winking at him. To anyone else, it would seem like they were talking about a small, by-the-side online clothing commission business, but both of them knew the true value of their conversation. “Need me to make you a new suit for the gala?”

It was then the idea struck him.

He processed it, and a fierce blush erupted on his cheeks, the said man nearly dropping his paper bag of macarons in the process as he fully understood his idea.

“Are- Are you okay?” She asked instantly, worry clouding her features.

“Yea-Yeah. I’m fine. I’ll... Get back to you on that.” He stammered, knowing that if he stayed a second longer, he was going to blurt out his crazy, stupid idea, and everything was going to be over.

Except that he couldn’t get the idea out of his head as he stared at the ceiling, sleep refusing to overtake him. The idea wouldn’t even leave him alone as he leapt across the streets of Gotham, keeping an eye out for crime.

If he brought Marinette to the gala with him, all the reporters would get off his back.

But then again, Marinette would never have peace again, and he couldn’t do that to her... Right...?

“Morning.” Damian greeted her the next day, dressed in a dark green hoodie. To anyone else, it would seem like a normal hoodie, but in reality, it was his favourite hoodie. ‘NDC’ was stitched in with golden thread on the inside of the sweater- The work of his favourite coffee shop owner. She had gave it to him after two months of their discreet friendship, and it was one of his most valued possessions.

"Morning," She replied with a gentle smile, her eyes morphing into little crescents as she did so. "The usual?" Her fingers never stopped moving, constantly wiping the counter clean or preparing a cup of warm milk. It was just one of the things he found adorable admirable.

"Yeah."

Before he could think, his mouth acted on its own. “Do you think you could be my date for the gala?” He blurted out suddenly, freezing when her movements came to an abrupt stop. Bluebell eyes slowly flicked up to his emerald ones, his heart jumping out of his ribs when those soft orbs stared into his. “You don’t have to say yes, I was just wondering-”

“Okay.”

He could feel his heart fluttering happily as she smiled, her eyes twinkling in bluebell crescents and her lips a soft curve.

“If you don’t mind, could I maybe go as... You know.” She asked shyly, brushing one of her hair strands behind her ears. “I know you want a date because... Well.” She laughed. “The attention, but I was hoping I could go as... Nette instead of... Well, plain ol’ Mari.”

“You’re not plain.” He responded instantly like a reflex action, tone cutting but soft at the same time. “But if you want to go as... It’s your choice. And... Thank you. For understanding.”

The smile she returned him was worth more than a thousand dollars, he thought.

---

Slicking his hair into a neat, presentable style, Damian checked his appearance in the mirror for the last time. The day of the gala had arrived, and they had already discussed all the details of the night over text. They would pretend to be a couple so that the reporters would finally get off Damian’s back, and ‘Nette’ would get her first appearance in public- They had both agreed that Marinette would wear a mask in order to preserve her identity, so that she could stay in a quiet world for just a little longer before she planned her official debut to the world.

The suit felt soft to the touch, a silk moisture across the shiny surface of the dark fabric. Gold threads wrapped around the jade green that Marinette had chosen as the accent of the suit. A jade tie with the same golden embroidery accompanied the suit and the dark-moss green dress-shirt that he had on underneath. ‘NDC’ was stitched carefully in the same cursive lettering that it was on the corner of the suit, the trademark of the designer’s handiwork.

Not wanting to answer his family’s pestering questions, Damian slipped out of the house, acknowledging and thanking whatever deity out there for the wonderful man named Alfred Pennyworth.

Alfred gave Damian a knowing smile, handing him the keys to his new car. “Thank you.” The youngest Wayne thanked the butler, the keys jingling in his hands.

“Treat her like the lady she is.” Alfred advised him, stepping forward to adjust the emerald-eyed man’s tie. There was a quiet, lingering thought inside the older man’s head, but after one more glance at the nervous young adult with a cold outer shell, he decided against the remark.

The car engine rumbled to life with a purr, pulling out of the garage. Alfred watched as the tail lights disappeared into the evening, the thought still clear in his mind.

He’s in love and he doesn’t even realise it.

---

“Hey.”

She opened the door with a smile- God, she never stopped smiling, did she? A little twirl showed off her dress, made in the same palette as his suit. Jade green and moss green strips of thick fabric made the dress blossom into a flower shape around her ankles. The top half of the dress hugged her curves in all the right ways, a braided rope going over her neck to hold the dress up. The sleeveless-ness of the dress showed off the smooth skin of the designer, not to mention her striking, sharp collarbones that were on full display.

“You look beautiful.” He managed, knowing full well it was a lie that he had just uttered. She wasn’t beautiful, god, no. She was absolutely stunning and gorgeous, and he would give anything to keep that smile on her lips. He had to mutter up all of his resistance and self-control to prevent himself from reaching out to stroke her soft, dark hair.

“Thank you.” The smile would’ve made him melt into a Damian-shaped puddle, except he had a date and he would have to wait until the night was over to melt into a puddle. “Shall we?”

He offered her his arm, like the gentleman his dad butler had taught and raised him to be. The feeling of her soft skin in his hands made roses flower over his cheeks, his heart beat a little louder, and the affectionate feeling in his chest double in size.

The drive to the gala was the most interesting car ride he ever had. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as he listened to her sing to the songs on the radio, occasionally joining in shyly, both their voices dancing in an intricate dance of harmony. Her laugh tinkled like wind chimes; her smile glowed like the moon on a clear night; her voice soothed his soul like a warm bowl of soup. There was absolutely nothing on his mind but her and her only.

“Are you ready?” He asked, pulling up in front of the gala’s entrance. Reaching for the mask on her lap, he placed in on her gently, careful not to tug on her hair as he adjusted it.

“For our fake date?” She giggled. “As I’ll ever be.”

A smile danced on his lips as he pushed the car door open, for once, not annoyed by the bright flashes of the cameras. He wanted the world to know how amazing Marinette Dupain-Cheng was, and he wanted her to rise to top of the fashion world and beyond. There was nothing that would make him feel more honoured than the fact that he would be the one that introduced her to the world, watching as she took over the rest of the fashion kingdom like the queen she was.

“M’lady.” He whispered, pulling her car door open as he offered his hand for her, bowing slightly. Whispers clouded the air, quickly replaced by gasps as Marinette took it gracefully, stepping out with the aura of a goddess. He planted a light kiss on her palm, emerald eyes bright and soft in the dying light of the evening.

“Thank you. Shall we?” She smiled in return, never removing her hand from his grasp.

He nodded to her, gesturing for the valet to take his car away, tossing the man the keys. He normally wouldn’t trust anyone else with his car, but at the moment, escorting to beautiful bluenette was the only priority in his mind.

Because she was the only thing that mattered, after all.

---

Funnily enough, he didn’t feel triumphant at all.

Damian had thought that if he got a woman to pretend to be his girlfriend, well, he would enjoy the disappointed looks on the fathers’ faces and the burning anger in the girls’ eyes. Well, it wasn’t the case at all.

He was absolutely mesmerised with the designer next to him, who was talking gracefully to the CEO of one of Gotham’s fashion magazines. She was the definition of grace, beauty, and poise. Everything about her said goddess. She practically radiated power into the room, even when she didn’t realise it. There was a calm to her that made her seem like a cool-headed queen, and boy he would be willing to be her knight any day.

“I’m going to go get some wine.” He whispered to her, arm looping around her waist naturally. They truly did give off the ‘dating’ vibe, but he was too absorbed in her to notice.

“Okay.” She smiled, only this time it made him feel something else. No, not just a little flutter of his stomach, or a resounding thump of his heart. In fact, the first thought going through his head was that he wished, hoped, prayed that he could wake up to that smile for the rest of his life. He could picture it in his mind- Her, curled in his arms, her dark hair spreading into an intricate net behind her, eyes closed softly.

He could see her eyes fluttering open, see her yawn and stretch before nestling back into his embrace, only this time her eyes were open and there was a loving smile on her lips, and she was speaking.

“Morning, love.”

It took him a moment to realise that he had been stupidly standing there after stating that he was going to get them some drinks. Both the CEO and Marinette stared at him expectantly, wondering why he had suddenly got into a daze.

He found a waiter, easily plucking two wine glasses from the man’s tray before making his way through the crowd, who parted for him like the red sea parted for Moses. It was infuriating; He couldn’t get the picture out of his head. Her, nestled into his arms... No, they were on a fake date, and it was only for one sole purpose... It wasn’t as if he liked her... Right?

Wrong.

---

He made a mistake.

It wasn’t until after the night ended that he begin to feel the pain. His heart ached when she left, thanking him for the night. For the next few days, photos of Damian Wayne and the mysterious, masked Nette clouded the cover pages of magazines, reminding him over and over of that one night that he got to live.

His family hadn’t stopped pestering him about what in the world happened, Damian, and after Tim had found out Nette’s identity through the batcomputer’s wide database, it didn’t take long for the rest of the family to piece ‘Damian-might’ve-fell-in-love-with-a-cafe-shop-owner-who-happens-to-be-a-world-wide-famous-designer’ together. 

“You should ask her on a real date sometime soon, Master Wayne.” Alfred told him offhandedly as Damian strolled into the kitchen. The butler was busy polishing wine glasses, placing them neatly back onto the shelf when he was done.

“It’s kind of too late.” He muttered quietly, sinking onto the chair, the soft fabric of the dark green sweater comforting him.

Alfred sighed, placing down the glass with a sonorous clink. “It’s never too late for anything, Master Wayne. Not if you take the chance and make a move.” Damian met the older man’s eyes for a second, realising what he needed to do. It was as if someone had took a lighter and relit the candle in his heart.

“I’m going out, Alfred.” He said abruptly, never pausing to see the proud smile on the older man’s face. “I don’t think I’ll be home for dinner.”

“Noted, Master Wayne. Your car keys are on the counter in the living room.”

---

He didn’t bother to pull on his hoodie, barging through the back door of the Lucky Cat Cafe before turning back on second thought, closing the door gently, muttering a sorry to the poor door that just got kicked open in the heat of the moment.

“Why are you apologising to a door?” Her laugh sounded behind her, the woman giving him an amused look.

“I... Kicked it open.” He admitted, before remembering what he had come to do. “Marinette.”

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Yeah?”

“I know the gala was a fake date, and we did it because it benefitted the both of us, but-!” He caught himself, realising that for once he was doing something without a plan. “But I don’t want that.”

She stared at him blankly. “Um... That’s fine. We didn’t tell the media we were dating, it could’ve been a one-time thing...”

“No!” He burst out, his heart nearly overflowing with emotions. “It took me a long time, but I-! I want to date you. For real. And take you out. And do the sappy things that Grayson does with his girlfriend. And take care of you. I want to date you for real.”

Her mouth was open in an ‘o’, and he wondered briefly if he broke her. Then a smile slipped across her lips, and he could see it again- Both of them, sharing a home, sharing a life, and then a child with dark blue hair and emerald eyes-

“Okay.”

---

sjskjsks I was so worried about the plot!!! Was it choppy? And in the words of my ninth grade english teacher, did it lack fLoW??? I’m so sorry if it didn’t live up to expectations, I lost where I was going with this- 

On another note I have this headcannon that the two students and old couple always knew that he was Damian Wayne, they were just ‘oh he’s totally in love with Mari, this is really sweet and we’re going to stick around and watch’ and when he asked her out for the gala he was actually being really loud and they were all just legit eavesdropping and the two students going ‘jskjskjkjkjs he finally asked her out oh my god the ship is sailing’ and the old couple going ‘aww how sweet’ and ‘my boy finally got his courage together, so proud of him even tho im not his dad but still’. 

Anyways I was thinking of another way to get around the MDC nickname for Mari as a designer and I thought Nette would be a cool name for her, and DC stands for Design and Clothing. 

Once again thanks for sending in the request, sorry that it took so long bby <3 

Requests are open, just head over to my blog, check out the rules and specifications, then shoot your request right into my inbox, I’ll be waiting. 

Also I’m watching Haikyu and I am IN LOVE with those babies, gonna start writing fics and opening up requests for the Haikyu fandom once I get a better grip on the characters’ personality. 

Okay, I’ve been talking too much. Bye and thanks for sticking around to the very end, lol. I can be quite talkative when I’m typing anddd I’m just going to stop now before I write another paragraph 

- Cady

[missamyrisa2]

Hiya Miss Amy

I read an ask on your DeviantArt page regarding mimic clothing which turned into a tickle outfit tease.

Besides your pink circle patterned dress, do you have any other clothing you’d dub as a tickle outfit?

Hope you are doing well

I have sooo many tickle outfits. But I'll list my favorites, some of which have been seen in commissioned artwork and stories.

The Classic: tiny blue denim shorts, thick black leather belt with an oversized silver flower shaped buckle, black velvet crop top with a dark red rose design, either barefoot or black platform sandals (just when I want to be even more ridiculously tall). This outfit leaves open so many tickle spots and hugs my body with lovely fabrics and designs. The flirtiness encourages so many tickles, and teases my ticklees all the same. There's so much in this outfit to trace and drive me crazy with sensation and sound, and of course the little shorts hide very little when the tickles become too much to bear~

The Slinky Mermaid: aqua patterned sheer sleeveless blouse with a ruffled collar and partially open back, tight black leggings, oversized black waist belt with silver buckle, flat black shoes. While the lack of sleeves grants me some relief from the material, that silky sheer sensation over my belly is deadly, and held in place by the belt at my natural waist. Tracing that line will instantly have me begging and giggling. It's also death on my nipples. The leggings turn my legs into two lines of death spots, especially behind the knees, and over my butt. And that material is even more revealing than the shorts in terms of princess part exposure~

Tickled Pink: the dress mentioned in the ask. The obnoxious bright shade makes me giggly, as does the silky soft lining inside the dress. The outer shell is full of those circles which just invite deft hands or a tickle machine to poke in and set off the sensation. Being a dress, my body is more protected~until my tickler lifts it and tucks it into the belt of course! The fluffy ruffliness of the dress is also horrible, because it makes so many swishy sounds when I'm squirming~

Royal Lace: an ultra soft gold dress with black lace patterns. The dress is sleeveless but I wear it with a long lace wrap. This is a more romantic tickle outfit, perfect for snuggly tickles and teases. The elegance and sultry nature invites a tickle make out session, and perhaps much more.

Floral Passion: a bright white soft floral dress with a sheer outer shell and silk lining. This is a recent favorite because I discovered it has an amazing potency when mixed with the magic wand. That tool can be used on any of these outfits, but especially on this dress even a graze makes me insane with squirming giggles. I took that magic wand challenge holding my wand to the dress over my princess part and I giggled into a ticklegasm in under a minute.

Winter Tum: blue jeans with an adorable little rose embroidery on the butt, the flower belt, and a long sleeved red sweater which is slightly cropped to reveal a slash of tummy. It's a warm cozy outfit that invites the sweetest tummy tickles, or teases my ticklee endlessly with little peeks. The sweater guards my underarms and chest fairly well, but again that little crop invites sneaky tickles underneath, or a trace on the waistline.

Purpley Giggles: deep purple sheathe dress, thick black waist belt, black sweater sometimes, low heeled black boots, chunky metal bracelet and floral headband. This is my preferred tickler outfit, teasing my ticklee with passionate colors and flattering outlines, while allowing me to tease their skin with a mix of sensations from the soft sweater to the sensual dress, the smooth of the belt, the cool of the buckle or bracelet, and the flirty sight of the headband. It's also a potent ticklee outfit for a creative tickler~

Sparkly Flower: denim miniskirt, the flower belt, black cropped tank top, brown long sleeved cropped sweater with sparkly details and big buttons. A ridiculous outfit, almost designed for endless tickles. I'm an absolute wreck in this because while being clothed there are portals to every tickle spot imaginable, and even the covering on my underarms is accented by a soft sensation. As a tickler outfit, it taunts them with so much opportunity that they can't reach~

Dancing Mermaid Girl: long striped swishy soft skirt, tiny zip up black crop top, optional black waist belt, pink mask, silver tiara. I put this one together with the random vision of me belly dancing for a witch's court, being tickled throughout, and eventually taken to her private chambers to have that zip up top opened and my nipples thoroughly tormented. It could also be quite the tickler outfit, and I used it as such for a post here.

Orange you Giggly: orange jeans, zip up top slightly cropped with floral designs, orange socks. I sadly lost this outfit a long time ago and it never got to debut as a tickle outfit, but I've always thought about working it into a story. I'd love a tickle machine to get ahold of me in this one.

Also any of my lingerie, including a silk pink teddy, a pale blue lacey thing, a tiny black bodice, and a pair of purpley lacey panties especially designed for princess parts~

[kitkatd7]

Asgardian Christmas

12 Days of Christmas; Day 4

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: Loki takes you to Asgard for Christmas.

Warnings:  None, just a lot of fluff and a few grammatical errors.

Word Count: 945

A/N: This wasn’t what I had planned, but I hope it turned out alright regardless! I hope you enjoy it!

The dress I imagined

Marvel Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

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

“Are you ready to go, love?” Loki asks, wrapping his arms around you from behind and nuzzling your neck.

Sighing, you glance around your apartment. “I think so. It feels so weird not packing for a holiday getaway though,” you chuckle slightly.

Well, you will need nothing of this world for a trip to Asgard.” 

Turning in his arms, you tuck your head against his chest, closing your eyes and taking a shaky breath. 

“Anytime now, Heimdall,” Loki says into the otherwise empty apartment.

You squeeze your eyes shut more tightly, clinging to Loki as you try not to vomit while being pitched into the Bifrost.

“You can let go now,” Loki chuckles as you peek up at him, slightly embarrassed. Stepping back, you follow Loki’s gaze to Heimdall. 

“Welcome, Loki. This must be Lady Y/N.” His warm gaze lights on you. 

“It’s good to be home,” Loki says as you stare in awe at what you can see of Asgard. 

Heimdall watches your awestruck state in slight amusement. “Indeed it must be,” he says, “Your mother awaits you in the palace.” 

Grabbing Loki’s hand excitedly, you start half dragging him down the Bifrost bridge. “Well we better not keep her waiting then!” you exclaim, making Heimdall chuckle.

Walking through the streets of Asgard hand in hand, you stare wide-eyed and amazed at the beautiful dresses, fine silks, tapestries, jewelry, and delicious-looking food; all of it foreign to you. 

Your eyes light on a cart of beautifully strange flowers and you break away from Loki’s side to get closer. Waves of blue and orange tangle with dark vines that hold white, violet, and rose petals, champagne lilies extend towards flowers you've never imagined. Feeling a tap on your arm, you turn around to find a little girl dressed in plain clothes with dark hair and bright green eyes. She holds out a delicate, purple flower that reminds you of a lily and an iris. “For the prince’s beloved,” she giggles with a shy smile. Crouching next to her, you accept the flower with a smile. “Thank you.” 

Glancing behind the small child, you find a woman watching with a smile, bundles of flowers in her arms- the girl's mother you assume.

Tucking the flower behind your ear, you slip off your necklace; an oval, light pink diamond. You slip it over the girl's head as her face glows. 

Standing, you watch as she skips to the woman with the flowers, holding the new treasure delicately between her small fingers. 

You turn around in search of Loki, finding him standing a few feet away, watching you with what only you could recognize as a smile.

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

Entering the palace, you gasp at the sight of the large golden pillars that line the entryway; each one of them wrapped in alternating spirals of red and green. You take in the carefully crafted decorations; awe-filled as Loki leads you further inside.

“That flower- It’s the flower of the Queen,” He says piquing your curiosity.

“What does it mean?” 

“It stands for all of the things a queen should be; Just, stubborn, honest, selfless, brave, and kind-hearted.” 

“She sounds lovely,” you murmur, referring to the current Queen; Frigga.

“She is. She’s a lot like you in many ways.”

You look up at him in surprise as he stops before a large series of corridors.

“I’m going to see mother- Julianna will take you to change into something more… suitable.” He gestures to a maid behind you.

“Can’t I go with you?”

“Not yet, darling. There are a few matters I need to attend first.”

Giving him a quick kiss goodbye, you follow Julianna down one of the many long hallways as Loki goes his separate way.

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

Nearly an hour later you're alone in what is to be yours and Loki’s room. You’ve been dressed in a beautiful sky blue dress; fitted at the top with a matching belt tied at your waist, the skirt flowing down in long, soft waves to your feet. Gold embroidery travels the length of the thin sleeves and your chest; the gold hemming your skirt, winding its way upwards before fading away delicately.

“Wow,” you breathe, twisting every direction in the mirror.

“I don’t think that quite expresses the full extent of your beauty.”

Turning towards the door you find Loki, his eyes roaming your body as he crosses the room to stand before you. “Are you ready to meet the Queen?”

“I think so- or at least I hope I am,” you say honestly. 

“She’s going to love you,” he reassures. 

Tilting your chin you look him in the eye. "How do you know?"

"Because I love you," he says softly, “Before we go, I have a gift for you.” Holding out his hand, a small red box appears in his palm. “Open it.”

Accepting the box carefully, you lift the lid, glancing up at Loki in surprise.

You pull out the deep purple, teardrop-shaped pendant nestled in gold. 

“You’ll make a fine queen,” Loki murmurs, taking the necklace as you turn around and move your hair out of the way.

“Queen?” you breathe as his fingers brush your neck gently. 

“One day,” he murmurs as you turn around to face him, “As soon as we are wed.”

“Is that a proposal?” You ask breathlessly, feeling as if you’ve been running and have yet to catch your breath. 

“It will be, love. But first, you’ll have to meet the current Queen,” he chuckles, cupping your cheek.

“Can she wait 5 minutes?” You purr, leaning closer. 

He hums thoughtfully. “Seeing as it’s an urgent matter, she’ll have to,” he whispers before connecting your lips.

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

Forever Tags: @lovesmesomehiddles @saiyanprincessswanie @buckys-other-punk @kind-sober-fullydressed @romainniesweetheart ​ @malloryharris @itsunclebucky @teenagereadersciencenerd @chaotic-fae-queen @bugsbucky @cap-n-stuff @imma-new-soul @wonderlandfandomkingdom @fablesrose @coffeebooksandfandom @tom-hlover

12 Days of Christmas Tag:

@myraiswack

[toms-cherry-trees]

The Last Song || Victoria Shelby

Summary: Dancing. Laughing. A night full of surprises. What will future the hold now?

Word count: 2495

Warnings: Despictions of blood and grief. Pure, unfiltered angst. And a bit of a plot twist in the end.

Author’s note: So I got inspired to write this while listening to Schindler’s List OST. It won’t be part of the Victoria series I’m trying to put together but I really wanted to write it. Is somewhat different of what I usually do but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless

Taglist: @caelys​ @carryonmyhomoson​

Let me know if you wanna be in my taglist ​

The dancing couples. The sparkling champagne and glistening jewels. The scent of expensive perfumes mixing with the fragrance of the flower arrangements decorating the hall. Fake smiles, stiff collars, shoulders clad in fur. It was all so fascinating, watching the toffs in their natural habitat. The way these people carried their lives, surrounded by luxury and beauty like it was the most natural thing in the world. Tommy insisted the family now belonged amongst these people, but Victoria found it hard to fit in. Not that she didn’t try, and admittedly, she enjoyed some parts of it such as the pretty clothes and being able to like something and just buy it without a second thought. But mingling with this lot was most tedious, speaking about coffee mornings, capercaillie hunting, social seasons and who wore the biggest pearls or largest emeralds. For Vicky, who had been raised amongst mud and dirt, jumping barefoot in puddles and permanently exposed to swearing, drinking and fighting, this was as close as you could get to being a fish out of the water.

But she endured, for her family’s sake. Tommy and Polly seemed to be in their element, charming guests left and right, while Ada spoke communism to an audience who could not care less about her views of equality. John and Arthur stood by the side, sipping drinks and making sure to stay in control of their senses enough to not let anything too inappropriate slip past their lips, although they were barely holding it together. Meanwhile Finn seemed to be taking advantage of the lack of supervision to down as much alcohol as possible before someone gave him an earful – or ear pull for that matter. Victoria had left his side after the second whiskey made him speak a little too loud and walk a little too wobbly, instead resorting to be a nice ‘hostess’ and speak to guests, per Tommy’s instructions, obviously. After a couple tries she found that what she had to do was simply let people talk about themselves, since toffs do love talking about their money and power. All she had to do in return was smile and nod, and receive the overly sweet compliments of daring young men who had gone a little too far with the wine. Not that those adulations were undeserved, not at all. That night, she earned them all.

When the gala’s date was settled, she didn’t think she’d need anything too fancy and figured her only evening gown would be enough, without taking into consideration Polly’s intervention. Victoria was dragged to a exclusive seamstress, fine fabrics and stones were bought, and here she was. Golden and white silk gauze, with tiny crystals beaded at the waist and golden thread embroidery in the shoulders. It was perhaps a little too close fitting and the neckline a bit deeper than the norm, but the overall assemble, with the dazzling jewels and elaborately braided hairdo, was exquisite. Despite looking, in her opinion, like an overproduced boutique mannequin, Vicky felt truly beautiful, in the way that you do when you try something new and bold and you are on top of the world. God knows she needed that boost of confidence for the night.

~

After dinner was served and before the energies were drained over glasses of strong liquor, Polly stood from her seat at the head of the table and gently clicked a spoon against her glass.

“May I have your attention?” Her smiles were dashing and voice soft as silk. “I’d like to invite you all to enter the concert hall please. We have prepared some entertainment for you this evening” Before any of the confused family members could protest or spoil the treat; she gave Lizzie a meaningful glance, whom in return grabbed hold of Tommy’s arm and lead him into the hall, the trail of guests following right behind him. Everything had already been laid out, the players in place with their instruments, and a single violin perched atop of a stool, waiting.

The lights softened, spectators falling into darkness and chattering dying down as the focus fell upon the musicians. Most importantly, on the main violinist, who had just walked in.

Victoria

This whole crazy idea of the concert had been planned by Polly and Lizzie, with some input from Ada. Vicky herself had found out a couple weeks prior that the event would include a musical performance, and she’d be the main star. All set up as a surprise for Tommy, who for starter didn’t even know his youngest sister could play any instrument at all.

Truth was, up to a little over a year ago she couldn’t have even played a single note with some decency. But with her finally done with school and her family still adamant in keeping her away from the business, despite having proved several times that she was more reliable and a far better shooter than Finn, Victoria needed something to fill in the long hours of solitude. Horses could only take up so much time, her shooting was polished as a sniper, and Vicky was not going to sit in the library to knit and embroider the day away.

The girl had always had an affinity for music and melodies, but from mere appreciation to actually being a musical person was a long way, and Vicky learnt that the hard way. She had enlisted Lizzie’s help to get in contact with Charlie’s violin teacher, and Polly agreed to pay for it. Lessons were held anywhere where Tommy wouldn’t be, for Victoria would rather eat her tongue than allow Tom or any of her brothers to hear her baby steps in the music field. Especially since those first steps had been so wobbly and rough that at some point the lessons were more like a self-appointed torment rather than a desire for a new skill.

But the efforts were worthwhile, and now it was time to prove it. In front of an audience of over a hundred people, soft lights surrounding her, and curious gazes following her every move as she placed the violin over her shoulder. Nerves had dried her mouth and caused her knees to tremble, but the reassuring smiles of her family sitting in the first row pushed her to raise the bow and slowly pour her feelings into the strings. The song was slow and melancholic, saddening notes floating in a deliciously sad tune which stung like tears and tasted like sweet nectar with a bitter aftertaste. A song that hurt yet you couldn’t stop listening; made you cry yet you didn’t want it to stop. Masterpiece in itself, played out wonderfully in the inexperienced hands of the first time violinist, shining like a star.

Her whole ensemble had a mesmerizing effect; the vaporous fabric of her dress catching the lights in a way that casted an ethereal aura around her, the golden threads woven in her hair giving her a light of her own, the diamonds around her neck shimmering like stars. The way the instrument fit perfectly in the curve of her neck, gently nestled under her cheek, causing jealousy in those who wished could be blessed to touch the dream in front of them. A goddess in full splendour.

Notes floated in the air, the produced melody having a deep effect on the audience; a sheet of deep sadness and dejection had fallen over every man and woman, accompanied by a heart tightening feeling. Without a word, just the magic of her hands, Victoria had brought an entire concert hall to the brink of tears. Even her own eyes had welled up, the emotion contained in the song spreading through her nerves, her body vibrating in sync with the strings.

The song slowly reached its end. The sorrowful notes falling from the violin with every touch of the bow, in preparation for the grand finale. Vicky’s eyebrows knitted in concentration, eyes closed to shut her mind to the world and just focus, think, feel the music. Everyone could sense the changes in the air, the prelude to the end, tension rising with each contraction of her muscles, the speeding of the bow as the song rose to the top, the climax of the melody unfolding in a string of heartrending notes, diminishing slowly like the fading flame of the candle in the wind. People marvelled at the talent, spellbound by the angel descended from Heaven gracing them with her music. A man stood in the darkness amongst the public, arm stretched forward as if wanting to touch Victoria, feel her and make sure she was real. His eyes had brimmed with tears, filled with adoration, and regret. He forced himself to close his lids. If he allowed himself to feel, he’d fail.

A single bang ripped through the air.

Rising screams and the roll of a tear.

And then, pain.

~

When Victoria was little, before the war and the business drained the happiness away, Aunt Polly used to pack a picnic, round up the children (no matter the age, they were still children) and take them for a day out, away from the polluted city and dirty businesses. They would go wherever there was a patch of grass for the kids to run, and trees to offer some shadow. Old blankets would be laid, sandwiches and bottles passed around, and soon jokes and laughter would be filling the air. The grownups smiling as Finn and Victoria chased each other, the boy being as slow as possible to allow his toddler sister to catch him. They would sometimes fall and roll, their hairs and mouths filled with grass and leaves. Arthur and Tommy just laughed, while John wondered when his own child would begin to walk and join the fun, trying to encourage the baby to give his first steps unsuccessfully.

Vicky’s favourite place for picnics was a meadow not too far away; near of where the Lees would camp out when they were around town. The waters were shallow, perfect for splashing around in a hot summer day, and a short walk up the hill gave them the perfect view of the valleys. In the top sat a single ancient oak, with a huge, knotty trunk and twisted branches spreading far and wide. That tree was Victoria’s favourite spot to sit and nap with her siblings after a long day swimming. And that same spot was where she begged they would put Tommy’s gravestone, for even if he was not going to be buried, she wanted a place to lay flowers; a place to remember him.

What occurred in that split second would always remain a mystery for her and everyone. When that man stood, shielded by the dark, no one could have noticed the gun concealed in his gloved hand. No one but a Peaky Blinder. How could he have guessed, how did he sense the danger, no one knew. But in a split, fateful second, in that one moment between the pulling of the trigger, and the unfolding of the chaos, Tommy stood up. As if he had known all along what was coming, he barely had managed to look over his shoulder when the bullet was shot. Everyone ran in every possible direction, escaping the concert hall. John had grabbed hold of the shooter, and the man knew in that second that he wouldn’t live to tell the tale. Ada seemed lost, while Polly rushed to call for help. But it was futile. Vicky knew it the moment she cradled her brother’s head in her lap, staining with crimson red her gown and hands, that he would be long gone before anyone could arrive to help. Tommy always joked that Victoria was the only one he would take a bullet for. She never thought the joke would become reality.

Rooted to the spot, Victoria kneeled there in the pool of blood long after the paramedics had carried away Tommy. Polly and Ada both tried to shake her awake from her thoughts, but it was clear something had broken inside her. Many times she feared this moment, and every time those dismal sceneries played behind her lids at night, she always pictured herself screaming and crying, swearing up at the skies and trashing the world with her bare hands. She never thought she’d find herself so numb. Numb and cold, like standing under the snow for hours on end, with drenched clothes sticking to her skin and gelid wind cutting her cheeks.

But this cold was different.

It was more than just frostbite at her skin; it was a clawing at her heart, the sinking of sharp fangs in her throat stealing her breath away, nails like knives piercing through her soul and blood freezing in her veins; the whispering of haunting thoughts in her ear. It was overwhelming, agonizing, torturing and exhausting. Grief was a monster, a burden too heavy to carry, depleting her of any energy, the blossoming girl turned into a drained body that could only sit by and feel the cold. A glacial blanket that didn’t melt away even when they stood in front of the bonfire that had become her brother’s vardo, shrouded in Ada’s mourning clothes for lack of her own; John’s firm grip holding her tight, partly out of fear that she’d try and run into the wagon, like she did three times before they could close it. Vicky was forced to sit tight and watch her brother become smoke and ashes, along with every memory they had of him. The little Shelby had managed to hold onto some belongings, defending them with tooth and nail from anyone who tried to take them away. A peaked cap with the sewn in blunt razors, a gold pocket watch, a picture wearing his army uniform, bearing all of his medals; the first bullet he took, kept in his desk as a lucky token. A photograph of them both, near the ‘Fontaines de la Concorde’, during the trip they made to France for her birthday. That was all that remained of the great Thomas Michael Shelby.

The house seemed colder that night, despite the raging fires crackling merrily in the hearths. Victoria slipped into her bed fully dressed, praying for the sleep that would never come. In a corner of her room stood her new dress torn to shreds, along with the splinters and strings of a once beautiful violin. Tossing and turning, eyes wide open, her gaze landed on the pile hidden in the shadows. Just watching those items caused her throat to tighten painfully, and in an outburst of rage, she stood and threw those items into the fire, hoping to burn away the cold like they had burned away her brother. But she realized, as tears finally rolled down her cheeks, and wrecking sobs racked her body, that nothing would ever placate the grief.

The cold had come to stay.

PD: Did you see that one coming?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hot Blood [2]

Warnings: non-consent sex; oral, intercourse

This is dark! (mob) skinny Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Synopsis: Steve Rogers is on the rise in the New York underground as you’re trying to keep your own place there.

Note: Here’s the second half. I’m TRYING to slow down a bit because I’ve become a bit manic and scrambled and all over the place so hope you guys don’t mind maybe revisiting some of my stuff while I try to clear my mind.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

There was a flurry of activity at the tall brick building you pulled up to in Brooklyn. Bucky drove around the back and killed the engine. Steve sent you a look before he climbed out. You grabbed your small bag and got out as Bucky closed the driver’s door. 

Steve led you to the back door of the building as Bucky trailed you and pulled out a cigarette. As you entered, the distant banging of hammers and buzz of voices rose from above. You were surprised by the interior as it did not reflect its facade; the aged brick hid the newly laid layer of decadence.

“Mind the noise,” Steve said as he strode across the lobby. “First two floors are finished but they got a dozen more to do.”

You glanced around at the stone statues and gilted frames. A little Versailles in the heart of New York. No doubt prompted by overcompensation and egoism.

“A borough is an empire on its own, I suppose,” You mused as you neared a bust of a naked woman.

“No, but New York is,” He neared and ran his finger along the curve of the stone woman’s hip. “It will be.”

“Big plans…” You stopped yourself from finishing; for a small man.

“Too many plans,” He drew away and looked at his watch. 

“Buck,” He called to his henchman who flicked off his cigarette. “Would you use the goddamn tray?”

“Sorry,” Bucky snickered. “Habit.”

“Mmm,” Steve grumbled. “Take her up to a room. Lock it, will ya?”

You glared at him and gripped your bag tighter. He glanced at you as he felt your anger radiating towards him.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll have the tailor come by and get you all set.” He smiled. “Considering that hole you were living in, I think you’ll like it here.”

“You can tell your tailor to fuck off.” You snapped.

“Ah,” Steve’s hand flew up and he grabbed your chin. “That’s not very ladylike language.”

“Get off of me,” You smacked his arm but he didn’t flinch. 

“There are gonna be rules, got it? First, you’re gonna start acting like a lady and watch your tongue. Then you’re gonna get rid of these,” He let go and pulled on your lapel, “And mind your place, woman.”

You bit down as you brought your hand up. He reeled at the slap which echoed through the lobby and Bucky’s figure loomed in your peripheral. Steve raised his hand to halt his henchman and touched his cheek. He took a breath.

“That’s the only one you get,” He said slowly. “Understand? Cause I’ve been more than patient with you. You still got your piece.”

“Empty,” You intoned.

“Still,” His eyes flashed. “And your head.” He pointed at you. “And a very clear choice here, doll. This can be easy or difficult. Now it seems you prefer the latter but I don’t think we ‘share that sentiment.”

“No, we don’t,” You said.

“Bucky,” He gestured to his man. “Get her out of my sight.”

Bucky grabbed your arm and drew you away as Steve walked across the marble floor. Your shoes slid over the stone and you were forced up the stairs by the bulky henchman. He dragged you to a pair of double doors and wrenched the right one open. He shoved you inside. 

The door slammed and you heard the lock slide into place. You cursed and kicked it before you spun to look around the room. It was as big as, if not bigger, than your apartment. 

The walls were decorated in a pale blue paper that bore regal curlicues and the polished floor shone even without the light of the glass lamps. The furniture was carefully arranged and no doubt expensive. You dropped your bag on the side table by the door and inched further in. You removed your hat and played with the brim. You needed to learn to shut your mouth.

🌆

It was about an hour before the lock sounded. The door opened inward and you rose from the chair with the French legs. A man with round glasses struggled to drag in a rolling rack of garments. When he was inside at last, the door closed and the lock slid back into place. 

He glanced around as he adjusted his spectacles and seemed taken aback by you. He sniffed as he came closer.

“Oh dear,” He said. “Hmm. Uh, hello, Miss, I was sent for a fitting. I’m Stuart.”

You crossed your arms and scowled. He shook his head and turned back. He grabbed a pale green dress from his collection and faced you again.

“This might fit,” He said. “Miss.”

He nodded to the screen on the other side of the broad bed. You looked between him and the painted divider. You didn’t move.

“Mr. Rogers told me you required a wardrobe,” He said aghast, “And I must agree with him.”

“And if I refuse it?” You challenged.

“You’ll have no protest from me, I have been duly paid to come here and offer my services. However, I know my client well and I am certain you can predict his reaction yourself.” He explained. “Whether or not you go along with this, is not my job.”

You huffed and reached to your belt. The man blanched as you removed your holster, gun still secure, and set it on the side table.

“It’s empty,” You assured him. “If it wasn’t, I’d not be here.”

You took the dress from him and disappeared behind the screen. You swore under your breath as you hooked the hanger over the top of the barrier. You removed your jacket and unclasped your suspenders. You slipped your shoes off and balled your socks inside them. You unbuttoned your shirt and tossed it a top your jacket on the small stool about a foot away. You added your trousers to the pile and stood in your underwear.

You grabbed the dress and pulled it over your head. The a-line skirt fell just to your knee and the delicate embroidery along the panels of the bodice stretched from chest to waist. You hadn’t worn a dress in years and it was just as awkward as you recalled. You stepped out from behind the screen and braced your hips in disapproval.

“Fits quite well,” Stuart mused and neared his rack again. “That means… the red, yes, oh, silver, the lace skirt…” He began to take hangers down and toss each piece on the chaise not far away. “Enough to see you through until I can make adjustments.”

You frowned and shook your head as you watched him. He passed you and you watched him gather up your former clothing. You blocked him before he could return to his rack.

“What are you doing with those?” You asked and reached to your waist instinctively.

“Mr. Rogers bid me take them with me.” He said plainly. “My assistant will be by later with undergarments… I just need your measurements before I go.”

You sneered at him as he dumped your clothing on the side table and stirred around in his pockets.

“I can assure you, miss, given your temperament, this is as unenjoyable for you as me.” He neared with his tape measure and you dropped your arms.

“Doubtful.” You grumbled.

🌆

There was an oval mirror in the corner behind the screen. You spent a while looking at yourself in the ridiculous dress before you distracted yourself with hanging the rest in the long closet. Stuart’s assistant, Olly, was shown in an hour after the tailor had left and gave you a collection of negligee and silk underwear. You hid them in the drawers and tried to forget about them.

Steve, for all your spite, was a man who acted quickly and effectively. And, you guessed, impulsively. You doubted you were the first woman to laugh at him but you didn’t wonder much on his wrath. It was his ilk; yours too. The underworld was run on tempers and wounded pride.

You sat in an armchair as you fiddled with the gun, flipping the chamber in and out, listening to the roll. You heard the door handle and stopped. You spun the gun in your hand and pointed the empty barrel at the man who entered. Steve’s brows drew together as he saw you. His lips twitched and he removed his hat. He left it on the side table beside your bag.

“You waiting on me?” He asked coyly.

“If I had a bullet, perhaps I would be more excited for your arrival,” You set the gun on the small round table beside you.

“Go on,” He stood across from you. “Stand up. Let me get a look.”

You stared at him. You didn’t move. His gaze travelled to your legs and he tapped his toe.

“Hurry up, would ya? We’ve got places to be.” He sneered.

“Places to be? Oh?” You still didn’t rise.

“Look, doll,” He lowered his voice as he stepped a bit closer. “I know you think I’m just a skinny little shit but let me tell you, I’m a whole lot more. You stand up so I can get a peek at you or I’ll get you up myself and do more than look.”

Your nostrils flared and you grabbed the gun. You swung it at him and he dodged it. He caught your hand as you stood and tried again. He twisted your wrist and you gritted your teeth as he forced you to release it. He caught it with his other hand and shoved you back. 

“You just can’t help yourself,” He growled as he tucked your gun into his trousers. “You’re lucky I have more self-control than you.”

You crossed you arm as he looked you up and down.

“Nice get-up but not for tonight,” He went to the closet and slid it open. “Even so, you’ve been busy.”

You were silent as he pulled out a pale blue dress that shimmered in the light.  Thin straps, low cut, skirt flowing to the floor. You cringed as he turned back to you.

“I am not stupid, doll,” He neared and held out the hanger. “You think I’m a joke. You’re one of the most stubborn gals I’ve ever known. I like that.” He waved the dress until you took it. “But I don’t work alone. You wanna step on my toes, I have no issue calling in back-up.”

You glared at him; silent.

“I’ve seen Bucky do terrible things to men; his own size, bigger. I heard of worse from his years in the war. It changed him and when I tell him to do something, he doesn’t think, he does. He doesn’t see a man or woman, trousers or skirt, he sees a job.” Steve warned. “He’s all smiles til I say ‘sic ‘em’.”

“You must watch a lot of pictures, Mr. Cagney,” You sniped.

“Listen, when it comes down to it, you’ll prefer me to him,” He said. “Me to any man in this city. I could let you go,” He pointed at you. “Could, but I’d have to put a price on that pretty little head.”

You frowned and folded the dress over your arm.

“Where are we going?” You asked quietly.

“A party,” He smiled. “To celebrate my recent victory.”

🌆

You hated the gown and the shoes. The way the woman had done your hair. Steve had left you to change and been quickly replaced by an older woman with fake blonde curls. Once a Jean Harlow fan or merely grasping at her fading youth?

She set your hair and grabbed your chin as she powdered your face and lined your eyes. She was pushy and said her name was Muriel. She talked a lot. You could barely keep track of her gossip. She painted your lips a deep shade of red and looked you over. When she finished, she left you as swiftly as she’d come. You ignored the mirror and the stranger in it.

When the door opened once more, you were at the window. You stared down at the sidewalk, pondering the way down. It would be a painful and slow death. So you had to wear heels; was it worth that?

“Doll,” Steve’ voice made you tense and you turned to face him. “You look… wonderful. Like a real woman.” He neared and his eyes lingered on vee of the dress. “Forgive me, you are a real woman.”

You crossed your arms but quickly dropped them as it only served to push your chest higher. Steve held a velvet box. He placed it on the table between the arm chairs and snapped it open. He lifted the silver chain from it and held it up to sparkle. Small diamonds decorated the slender necklace; the centerpiece a large sapphire.

“I’ve never seen a woman look at a jewel with such disdain.” He mused as he neared.

“Only at you, right?” You japed. He almost smiled.

“Sure, doll,” He seemed calmer as he gestured for you to turn.

You let out a breath and did. He carefully looped the necklace around your neck and clasped it. You spun back to him and wobbled in the heels. You kept yourself from tripping and he smiled as he reached to touch the sapphire.

“Gorgeous,” He said. “If not lacking grace.”

You drew away from him and his hand brushed your arm. He grabbed your hand and stopped you. He came up beside you and hooked your arm through his. 

“You behave…” He purred. “And I just might take it easy on you.”

🌆

You recognized many men at the party. It didn’t make it any easier. Once, you had faced them with a gun on your hip. With a sense of dignity. You lowered your head as Steve swept you along and he stopped to push your head up with two fingers.

“Be proud. You’re mine.” He whispered as he turned back to his path. “One day, this whole city will be mine. I might just take you with me.”

You didn’t like that. He spoke of you like a possession. But you shut your mouth and focused on not tripping. As you gained your balance, you struggled to stop as Steve pulled on your arm. The man across from you, Harry Carligne, squinted at you as he greeted your escort. As he tried to take you hand, you just stared.

“I know you,” He pulled back and realisation smoothed the wrinkles in his forehead. “Holy…”

“Where’s Carol?” Steve interjected. 

“She found out about Lucille,” Harry laughed. “Who you will find flitting around somewhere.” He glanced at you again. “My, my, how did you tame this creature, Rogers?”

“He didn’t,” You said tersely. “Keep your paws off me.”

“Oh ho,” Harry grinned. “You’re definitely braver than me, Rogers.”

“I told you, I like a challenge,” Harry’s smile fell as he caught the edge in Steve’s voice. “Plus, I’ve heard that women with sharp tongues are the best fucks.”

Your eyes rounded and you gaped at Steve in disgust. You tried to pull away from him and he snaked his arm around you and pulled you closer.

“Besides, I’m sure the mouth is good for more than just talk.” Steve chuckled. Harry joined in loudly and you snarled at both of them.

“I’m thirsty,” You insisted as you tried to wriggle away.

Steve’s arm stayed firm and he waved with his other hand. A server appeared with a tray and Steve took a champagne glass from the lot. He handed it to you. 

“Drink up, doll,” He said and returned his attention to the other man. “Now, Harry, we got some clean up to do in Queens…”

🌆

The night was long. You didn’t miss the whispers of the men or the women attached to them. It also didn’t escape you that you looked like one of those women now. Some were wives, some were mistresses, and some were paid by the hour. You weren’t quite sure where you fell yet.

And Bucky hovered ever in your peripheral. He was Steve’s watchdog. Those Steve talked to were also aware of the other man. They were nervous. He had a reputation you had yet to see proven. You could live without the evidence.

You were relieved to be away from the party guests but less than to be once more beside Steve in the back of the ivory roadster. He was close, his fingers tapped on his knee as he was quiet. Bucky drove, yawning here and there. You were tired yourself but antsy due to the man next to you.

You flinched as Steve’s hand fluttered over onto your leg. He felt the fabric of your dress and leaned closer.

“A few slips,” He said. “But you did well, doll.”

“I thoroughly despised it,” You grumbled.

“But you looked good,” He cooed. “I like this dress… makes me think about what’s underneath.”

“You’re a dog.” You snapped.

He chuckled and his hand slid further and crawled along the crease where your thighs met. You pressed your legs together but he didn’t push. He merely traced a line around your hip and his fingers danced along your arm. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you to him. He kissed you and you slapped his chest. He winced but didn’t stop.

You shoved him but it only seemed to drive his fervour. He squeezed the back of your neck as he poked his tongue past your lips. The car came to a stop and he finally drew away. He glanced out the window but as he turned back to you, you slapped him.

“Animal.” You hissed.

He touched his cheek and his blue eyes glinted in the dim. He let out a heavy breath and tore his hand away.

“Get her,” He barked at Bucky. “Drag her, if need be.”

Steve got out of the car as the other door opened and you found yourself being ripped out by the henchman. As you found your footing, Steve came to face you. 

“We’re gonna go back to the room, doll,” He said curtly. “And this can stay between the two of us or I can have my man hold you down. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the show.”

You glanced over at Bucky. His expression was dull and his grip firm. He shrugged. He tugged you forward as Steve spun and led the way to the tall building. Inside, it didn’t seem so extravagant anymore and your steps echoed on the stairs. The hand on your arm was like a shackle.

The same door, the same room, you were ushered inside and Bucky let go hesitantly. The two men watched you, waiting. You didn’t move and Steve nodded to his henchman.

“Stay close,” Steve said quietly. 

Bucky nodded and showed himself out. Steve faced you and brought his hands up to grasp your arms.

“I don’t wanna call him back,” He said. “Do you?”

You shook your head as a chill crept up your spine. You hadn’t felt this way in a very long time. You were afraid. You told yourself it wasn’t the thin man before you, it was the one outside, but deep down, you knew it was both.

“Alright, take the dress off.” He said. “Just the dress.”

You unhooked the back and slid the straps down your arms. Steve walked circles around you. You looked to him as you braced yourself. He loosened his tie as you let the gown fall to your waist. You shimmied out and exposed the creamy lace-trimmed panties and bra beneath.

“Sit. On the bed.” He ordered.

You stepped out of the dress and slowly crossed to the bed. You turned and sat on the end. He neared as he pulled his tie from around his neck. He put it over your eyes and you grabbed his wrist. He shook you off and secured it around your head so you were blind.

“Don’t even think about taking it off,” He warned. You dropped your hand and he stroked your cheek as he backed away.

You listened and shivered in your scant clothing. The underwear, the garters, the sheer stockings, and the strappy heels. You sensed him before you again. He ran his hands over your shoulders and down your arms. He brushed them back up your sides and groped you through your bra.

“Take this off,” His hand dropped and he pulled at the lacy trim at your hip. “And these.”

You stood in the pitch black of the blindfold and carefully undid your bra. You paused and you felt a tug on the front. You swept it away and hooked your thumbs in the top of the panties. He hummed and you rolled them down until they fell to your ankles. You untangled your feet and felt him step closer.

“Turn around. Get on the bed.” He commanded. “On your knees.”

You turned slowly. You stopped yourself from touching the bed.

“No.” You said. “No.”

“If I have to call him in, I won’t stop him from joining.” He rasped.

You bent and felt around. You managed to find your way up, lifting your knees carefully onto the mattress. He slapped your ass and you flinched.

“Further.” You crawled towards the middle. “Just like that.”

You waited there for a time, still on your knees. You felt the bed shift. His hand was suddenly on yours and he pulled it towards him. He pressed your fingers to hot flesh and wrapped your hand around his cock. You were surprised by his girth and as he slid your hand up than down, his length was no less impressive. He squeezed your hand tight.

“Not laughing now, huh?” He taunted.

You stopped and he nudged your hand. You just sat there with your hand around him, unwilling to move. Unwilling to accept this.

“Fine,” He slapped your hand away. “I’ll just use your mouth.”

He moved quickly and grabbed the back of your head. He yanked you forward and you fell onto your hands. He pushed down until you were on your elbows and the head of his cock prodded your lips. He rubbed it back and forth.

“Doll, I won’t tell you one more time.” He snarled. “Bucky’s right outside that door. I’ve seen him break men’s jaws as if it was nothing. What do you think he’d do if I told him to open your mouth for you?”

You gulped and shuddered. Your parted your lips reluctantly and he pushed inside. He grasped the back of your head and held you there as he hit the back of your throat. He urged himself deeper and you slapped his naked thigh. His fingers tangled in the tails of the tie.

You couldn’t help the noise which slipped from you as he pushed himself deeper. You held back a gag and squeezed his slender leg. You shook as he stilled you a lingered in your throat. He wiggled his hips cloyingly.

“Never would’ve known you had such a nice ass in those suits,” He slid back and slammed back in. You choked on him and he repeated the motion. “But that dress… perfect complement.”

You kicked your feet as he thrust steadily. He didn’t seem to notice the constriction of your throat around him as you struggled to hold back the wave of nausea. Or the way you struggled to breath around him. There was only his airy moans and sickly sound of his cock as it glided in and out of your mouth.

He finally pulled out and you struggled not to keel over. You wiped the spit from your lips and he grabbed your hand. He placed it on the mattress and held it there.

“Don’t move,” He said.

You were awe-struck by his pushiness. By the authority that radiated from him. He climbed off the bed and you reached to the tie as the sweat gathered along its edges. You were surprised by a pinch.

“I said don’t move,” He came around behind you and smacked your ass. “You keep those hands on the bed.”

You slapped your hand back down as he climbed up and his legs pushed between yours. Your stockings rubbed against his skin and he ran his hands up and down your back and around your hips then along your thighs. He tickled you and you felt his cock as it poked at you.

“You think you were funny yesterday?” He kneaded your ass as he leaned against you, his smooth length pressed against your cunt. “You really know how to use that pretty little mouth.”

You were, for once, speechless. It was one thing to deal with a man on his level, but to be bent over before him, was another. 

“Where’s that voice now, doll?” He drew back and dragged his tip along your folds. “I wanna hear you.”

He pushed along your entrance, the head of his cock dipped in just a little before he pulled out. He rubbed himself along your cunt again and repeated the act several times. When he shoved himself further in, you squeaked and clapped your hand over your mouth. Another pinched on the tender flesh of your thigh.

“You moved,” He growled and impaled you entirely. Your walls were snug around him. “I know listening isn’t your strong suit but we’ll work on that.”

He eased out of you and paused. You let out a breath and he slammed back in. You flinched and grunted through your teeth. Your fingers curled in the thick duvet and he did it again. He thrust into you, each crash of his hips jolted you. 

His hands brushed over your back and he grabbed your shoulders so that you arched. He rutted into you without restraint. He panted as you quivered against him. You moaned suddenly and clamped your lips shut. He chuckled and sped up.

“Is that it, doll?” He taunted. “Is that the spot?”

He bent over you and snaked his arm around your front. He pressed his fingers to your clit and dragged his lips along your shoulder. He bit down as he started to draw circles around your bud. You gulped as the ripples spread through you. You whined and finally let loose a sharp cry.

“You’re close, I can’t feel it,” He said and slammed into even harder. “And I know you can feel me.”

You’d lost control. You couldn’t let up and he wouldn’t. You moaned louder and louder, almost snarling for more as your flesh clapped loudly. The bed rocked beneath you and you dropped your head forward as you came. Your walls pulsed around him and you pushed back so you could take him deeper.

His hand never stopped, even as your arms shook and threatened to collapse in your rapture. You were stunned by your second orgasm and the third. Your arms folded and you were on your face as he grasped your hips and guided them firmly against him. 

He sank as far as he could and swore. He pulled out quickly and you felt his harried strokes as he pressed his tip to your ass. His hot cum spilled over you and dripped down your thigh. He slowed and sighed as he grazed your throbbing pussy with his fingers.

He backed up off the bed but you didn’t move. You couldn’t. You listened to his soft footsteps and felt leather against your ass. He caressed you with the belt and pulled back.

“You moved again, doll,” He rasped as he brought the belt back down and you exclaimed. “You don’t like the easy way, do you?”

[carewyncromwell]

The Cinderella AU is back...and with it, a proper introduction to the character who fills the “evil stepmother” role -- Carewyn’s cold, cruel grandfather, Charles Cromwell. If you’d like to learn more about Charles and his family’s canon counterparts, you can consult this post, but to summarize quickly, in Carewyn’s canon, Carewyn’s mother Lane ran away from home to elope with a Muggle, which ended up protecting Carewyn and Jacob from Charles’s emotionally abusive influence. (At least until R started going after them, because hey, what d’you know, in Carey-bear’s canon, Charles is R’s leader.) But in this AU, Carewyn has to answer to Charles for some reason...so yeah, that doesn’t bode well, does it? You’ll just have to read on to learn a little more about why that might be...

Fashion changed very dramatically during the Renaissance, thanks in large part to the cross-pollination of different cultures and influences that came from more extensive travel, the growing popularity of published works, and royal funding of the arts. Pre-Renaissance men’s fashion, at least for the nobility, was very big on oversized sleeves, which ended up creating a more “top-heavy” frame. (Just look at most portraits of King Henry VIII.) As the Renaissance went on, though, trunk hose (which creates that kind of “bubble butt” look that we’re used to seeing in William Shakespeare Halloween costumes) became the latest fad, shifting a man’s frame to be much more “bottom-heavy.” Women’s fashion briefly flirted with wide trumpet sleeves (as one can see in this portrait of a young Elizabeth Tudor, later Queen Elizabeth I), but by the time the 1550′s were over, rounded sleeves grew much more popular. Fitted sleeves also went in and out of style in a lot of Europe throughout the 16th century, though sleeves were considered a special feature on gowns, so they often had a lot of embellishments, such as paneling, embroidery, or puffs. One exception to this rule, however, was in Italy, where fitted, detachable sleeves that could be used on multiple gowns became fashionable. Fashion in Italy in the 16th century was notably understated and modest compared to a lot of Europe, which tended to favor a lot of ornate beading and embroidery -- there were even laws on the books restricting how “bedazzled” women’s fashion could be. One such law even banned stripes, as it was considered wasteful to use two different kinds of fabric just to make a pattern. That being said, there were plenty of people in Italy who said “screw the rules” and worked around them anyway. Carewyn’s dress in this picture is somewhat based on this design, but with some tweaking, most notably with a fuller skirt and more ornate and puffy sleeves.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

When the end of the month arrived, Andre requested that Carewyn come to his chambers bright and early in the morning. Carewyn had anticipated that the prince had some extra duties for her to attend to, but instead, he immediately led her over to a corner of his bed chamber that he’d drawn a curtain around. When he pulled the curtain back, he revealed a full tailoring station inside his walk-in closet, complete with organized rolls of fabric, various jewels and beads strewn about over a table, several unfinished hats stacked on the nearby desk, an entire separate wardrobe of unfinished pieces, and several mannequins with fine fabrics half-pinned on them.

One mannequin, however, was wearing a completely finished, luxurious dark scarlet gown. It was made of about six different fabrics, all cut and sewn together in a complex tapestry of folds and textures and trimmed with many sparkling beads and jewels. Also lying on the floor just in front of the dress was a pair of heeled shoes made of off-white cloth with red and white roses sewn into the toes.

Carewyn couldn’t help but gape. Andre was grinning from ear to ear.

“So?” he asked. “What do you think?”

Carewyn glanced out the side of her eye at the prince, over to the dress, and back.

“Did you...make this, your Highness?” she asked, amazed.

Andre laughed. “Carewyn, please, it’s ‘Andre.’ But yes! I got inspired while working on your shoes, so I stitched this up to go with it. ...Do you like it?”

Carewyn walked around the mannequin to look over the gown, not daring to touch it. She’d never seen so many fine fabrics on one dress before -- velvet, linen, silk -- and all the embellishments must’ve taken full days to finish --

“It’s -- well, it’s extraordinary, your -- Andre,” she corrected herself very quickly noticing the prince’s pointed smile. Even she was finding it difficult not to smile too. “The beading on the sleeves, the lace work -- the alternating wool and cotton paneling along the bodice...it’s worthy of an artisan!”

Andre looked clearly both incredibly pleased and impressed. “You have an eye for detail, Carewyn!”

His face burst into a bright white grin as he bent down and picked up one of the off-white cloth shoes.

“I’m pleased you like it,” he said brightly. “I thought it’d be the perfect thing for you to wear today. Lord Cromwell sent a message to the palace asking Father if you could return home for a visit -- so I worked all night to get this done in time so that you could wear it for your outing with your new shoes.”

Despite her best efforts, Carewyn couldn’t completely keep the dismay and discomfort she felt off her face.

“What? Oh -- oh, your Highness, I -- ”

“Ah, ah, ah,” chided Andre, “what have I asked you to call me?”

“Andre,” Carewyn corrected very quickly, her eyes drifting up onto the dress rather than at Andre, “this dress is...truly beautiful...but it befits a lady of status, not -- ”

“It fits you,” Andre said, undaunted. “I used the measurements from your uniform fitting. It should fit you like a glove -- or better.”

Carewyn felt like her stomach was shriveling up. She hated turning away such a lovely gift -- under any other circumstances, she would love wearing it out and about. But...

“That...that is...it’s so kind of you, to use me as your template...”

Or “dress-up doll” -- that is what the Queen said I would be, isn’t it?

“...but I simply couldn’t wear such a gift on my visit...not when I have no comparable gifts to bring my cousins. Many of them are around my age, and...and well, I know Heather, Iris, and Dahlia would be very upset, knowing I got to wear such a beautiful dress and they didn’t.”

None of her cousins had ever been very respectful of Carewyn’s personal belongings. Not long after she first arrived, her aunt Pearl’s two bullying sons, Kain and Arsen, stole her jewelry box while she was sleeping and sold both it and its contents for pocket change. Her youngest cousin, her uncle Blaise’s bratty son Tristan, had once thrown a bottle of red wine out the window that shattered mere feet away from Carewyn and soaked her dress so badly that it never washed out. Even Iris had -- after Carewyn caught the eye of one of her suitors who’d come to call -- ripped the sleeve off Carewyn’s dress so badly that she had to hide from sight for most of the day, until she’d managed to sew it up enough that her chest wasn’t exposed. Carewyn had had to hide her mother’s old dress from her cousins for years, for fear they might steal and/or ruin it.

Andre frowned deeply.

“Well, I hardly can send along anything for your cousins without knowing their measurements,” he said with a quick glance at the wardrobe full of unfinished pieces.

His face then brightened with an idea.

“How about this -- I’ll order you. I order you to wear this dress on your trip home, and to have your cousins give you their honest opinion of it. Then you must bring their opinions back to me. Goodness knows I could use some feedback -- and maybe a few new ideas, if they have them,” he added with a teasing grin.

Carewyn opened her mouth to object, but Andre cut her off.

“As your prince, I command you to showcase my work to your family,” he said through a broad grin. “Am I clear?”

Carewyn really, really didn’t love the idea -- but she had to concede that she could use this to her advantage. She needed a stable place at the palace in order to achieve her goals, and she could help maintain that stable place at the palace by justifying to Charles why she had to be there. And Charles’s whole interest in her being there was to try to endear the Cromwells further to the royal family, and maybe even secure one of her Aunt Claire’s daughters a space in that family...

So, with a heavy sigh, she put on a small smile and inclined her head respectfully.

“Very well, Andre. I’ll wear your work proudly.”

And so Carewyn set off for the Cromwell estate on horseback, dressed in the new shoes and dress Andre had made for her. The shoes were lovely and fit perfectly, but they were rather impractical for walking around outdoors. Carewyn thought to herself that she might have to continue wearing her old shoes when she returned to her palace work, if for no other reason that she hated the thought of getting them scuffed up.

As to be expected, when she arrived, her cousins reacted very hostilely to her appearance.

“Well, well,” sneered curly-black-haired Kain, “what do we have here? Playacting as a lady, little Winnie?”

“All hail Lady Cinderwyn, Duchess of Dust!” sniggered his similarly dark-haired brother Arsen.

He reached for her wide skirt, but Carewyn -- remaining on her horse -- steered herself far enough back that he couldn’t reach.

“I wouldn’t damage this, if I were you,” she said as coolly and levelly as she could. “It’s not mine.”

Arsen and Kain exchanged a mocking, wide-eyed look and an “oooooh.”

“Are you a thief now, little Winnie?” asked Kain. “How far you’ve fallen -- we might need to call the castle guard on you -- ”

“Cinderwyn’s a thief!” crowed tiny Tristan in a sing-song voice. “Cinderwyn’s a thief!”

Claire’s three daughters looked a lot less mocking.

“You have some nerve, stealing clothes from your betters,” spat dainty, brown-haired Heather. “Grandfather should lash you within an inch of your life -- ”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” Carewyn said very firmly. “Now I wish to see Grandfather. I have a message from the Prince he’ll want to hear.”

“Grandfather’s inside,” said Claire’s gangling, button-nosed son Elmer with a crooked smile. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy your new look, Lady Cinderwyn...especially with the finishing touch!”

He jumped right into a mud puddle that splashed everywhere. Carewyn just barely avoided the spray, but when she moved back, Dahlia and Iris successfully grabbed hold of her velvet brocaded skirt and yanked hard in either direction, as if trying to rip it.

“Iris -- Dahlia --  ” said Carewyn, her voice growing colder and harder as she struggled to hold in her temper and emotion as best she could, “if either of you have any ambition to marry his Highness, I would strongly suggest letting go of his dress this instant!”

All of Carewyn’s cousins stiffened.

“His dress?” repeated Dahlia, looking outraged. “You mean to say you took this from the Prince?!”

“He bid me to wear it, for my visit,” Carewyn shot back fiercely. “Or would you have me oppose his Highness’s will?”

“You...arrogant, pretentious, ungrateful little rat!” shrieked Dahlia. She tried to yank Carewyn off her horse, and there was a slight struggle as Carewyn tried to both comfort her horse and prevent Dahlia from dislodging her.

“Now, now, children,” said a very coldly serene voice, “a little less noise there.”

All of the Cromwell children looked up to see Charles Cromwell striding across the lawn. He was dressed in black, gray, and white with a dark red cape with black trim, and he supported himself on an ebony-wood cane with a dragon’s head carved out of black zircon for a handle. Behind him were Carewyn’s aunts, Pearl and Claire, with their husbands, as well as her uncle Blaise. All three of them were looking over Carewyn’s outfit disapprovingly -- Blaise looked particularly irritated, his upper lip curling as he rested a hand on top of Tristan’s shoulder that made the small boy flinch.

Iris and Dahlia were still clinging to Carewyn’s skirt, but they’d frozen up like startled cats when their grandfather appeared.

“Grandfather -- ” stammered Iris, “W-Winnie’s a no-good thief -- she stole this dress from -- !”

"I have stolen nothing,” Carewyn repeated coldly. She stroked her horse’s white mane several times to soothe it.

Pearl too had come up to rest a hand on Arsen’s shoulder and was looking at Carewyn very critically out her own almond-shaped blue eyes -- most of Carewyn’s family had them.

“Is that so?” she said, her voice a low growl in her throat. “Explain, then, what gives you the nerve to show up here dressed in such obnoxious clothes.”

“It’s positively garish,” added Claire in a higher, simpering tone from her comfortable spot in her husband’s arms, mirroring her sister’s disapproval like a child would imitate their older sibling.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows very coolly. “Prince Henri will be very disappointed to hear that. He worked very hard on this.”

This startled all of the Cromwells. Blaise looked scandalized.

“And I suppose that makes you think the Prince favors you somehow?” he spat, his eyes flashing dangerously as he released Tristan’s shoulder and approached Carewyn’s horse. “Rather than just thinking of using you as some saucy little tart and then discarding you, just like your wretch of a father did your mother -- ”

"I think nothing of the sort,” Carewyn cut him off coldly.

Don’t you dare talk about my mother.

Charles, the least visibly startled, took a few steps forward. Iris and Dahlia finally released Carewyn’s skirt so as to get out of the way, and Charles came to a stop about three feet from Carewyn’s horse, his own almond-shaped eyes locked on his ginger-haired granddaughter’s face.

“I believe you owe me a full report, child,” he said quietly. “Stand before me and give it.”

Carewyn’s red-painted lips pursed as she picked up her skirts and descended from her horse at last. She looked up at Charles with a very stoic expression.

“Prince Henri learned that I would be coming to see you, as per your request,” she explained. “He commanded that I wear this dress, for my visit. He’s heard about my cousins and desires Dahlia, Iris, and Heather’s opinions on it. Then he requested I deliver their feedback back to him this evening.”

The time limit was a flat-out lie, but one Carewyn knew she could get away with. She did not want to stay at the Cromwell estate overnight -- she’d rather sleep on a lumpy old cot in the servants’ quarters than on the floor by the kitchen fireplace. 

Claire looked at Charles, her face breaking into a rather eager expression. “His Highness wishes to hear from my daughters? He must have heard from the rest of the court of their extensive talents -- ”

“Or at least purported talents,” said Blaise under his breath with a rather cynical look. “Seems the rumor mill is working well...“

Pearl shot Blaise a glare, but Claire didn’t seem to hear him -- she had already whirled on Carewyn.

“Tell his Highness that the dress is a work of art, fit for a queen!” she said insistently. “And make sure that he knows that there are much better models for his work here, at the Cromwell estate -- Iris has a far superior build, Dahlia the most perfect shoulders -- ”

“I suppose Winnie can do far worse than inanely fawning over your daughters’ target on their behalf,” said Blaise in a rather cutting voice. “Mindlessly swooning certainly worked for you.”

“Blaise!” Pearl snapped reproachfully.

Charles’s eyes drifted over Claire and her three anxious-looking daughters thoughtfully.

“...What feedback...do you believe would most please his Highness, child?” he asked Carewyn.

“He appreciated it when I noticed the details,” said Carewyn. “I would think if anyone had any creative ideas to add onto it...or perhaps constructive criticism...he might react well to it. His Highness is very interested in fashion and tailoring...I’m sure he would appreciate knowing someone who could indulge in that passion with him.”

He must be awfully lonely, locked up in the palace all the time. It’s no wonder he tried to find things to do indoors that could bring him some joy, if he’s unable to go much of anywhere...

Charles’s eyes flitted over the silk and ornate beading on Carewyn’s sleeves.

“His Highness certainly does have an eye for finery...has the royal family come into additional wealth recently?”

“I don’t think so,” said Carewyn. “The castle staff is very limited. And although the nobility are all dressed and fed well and the castle is decadent, the staff is frequently short of common necessities like nails and coal for the fire. Not to mention the staff’s rations are sparse.”

Iris gave a loud, haughty laugh. “Ha! Probably just as well -- you could do with getting some of that meat off your thighs!”

“Iris,” said Charles very sleekly, even as the rest of Carewyn’s cousins sniggered.

His lips curled up in a smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

“...It seems that the King and Queen are indeed in need of our family’s charity. But we must indulge their pride. It’ll be far easier for them to accept help from a future daughter-in-law and princess than simply from a loyal servant of the realm. Carewyn -- you shall report back what his Highness wishes to hear. Customize three answers for Heather, Iris, and Dahlia -- one fawning, one critical, one creative. Whichever answer he likes best, we will then pursue that route with the cousin you’ve assigned to it.”

His almond-shaped blue eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Carewyn’s face.

“And once we’ve secured an invitation from the Prince...I expect that you will step aside, to make room for your cousin to make her move.”

Carewyn’s expression didn’t shift.

“I’m not interested in courting princes,” she said lowly.

Heather, Iris, and Dahlia can knock themselves out. Andre will see through them sooner or later, and it’ll be all their own fault.

There was a cold, diamond-like glint in Charles’s eye. “...Yes...you truly don’t care to chase any man except for your brother...do you, Carewyn, my dear?”

Carewyn tried not to blink or look away.

“You have news of Jacob?”

Charles sighed airily. “I’m afraid not, my dear. I know he’s well, of course...but news from the War front, as you know, is simply impossible to come by...”

“You know he’s alive,” Carewyn shot back a bit more sharply than she meant to. “That doesn’t mean he’s well. No one could be doing well out there.”

“And yet I’m sure you’re happy that the first is guaranteed?” said Charles. “At least, so long as you do your duty to your family, and to me?”

It was a warning, but it was done so delicately -- it was like his voice was flirting with a threat, rather than flat-out making one.

Carewyn’s lips came together tightly as her gaze drifted to the ground.

“You know I wish no harm to come to either you or Jacob,” Charles said softly. “Losing a child was terrible enough, losing grandchildren as well...well, it would deeply upset me. And per our agreement, you are the one who must shoulder the burden of your brother’s and your debt to me...particularly since you have no dowry and no possible claim to my estate. Remember, Carewyn...you are responsible for how you are treated -- and for how Jacob is treated.” 

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit tightly together over her closed eyes.

“...Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now then -- rehearse the answers you plan to give to his Highness with your cousins. I wish them to sound convincing, so that when one or more of them is invited to the palace, they will be able to play their part appropriately.”

Carewyn hated every minute of hashing out responses with Heather, Iris, and Dahlia. Like their mother Claire, they and Elmer were all “follower” type personalities who tended to echo whatever they thought would please others -- so Dahlia, Iris, and Heather were constantly trying to steal each other’s ideas to “improve” Carewyn’s answers, despite all three of them supposedly needing to take three different approaches as part of Charles’s plan. Even the three girls’ hostile attitude toward Carewyn largely came down to her refusing to follow their direction, despite her lowered status in the family giving them authority over her -- something that, Carewyn believed, they would never do if their positions were switched.

When Carewyn was finally ready to leave (and successfully avoided Tristan’s muddy hands when the wickedly grinning little boy forcibly tried to hug her goodbye so he could leave stains on her dress), Blaise pulled Charles aside. As the male heir of the Cromwell legacy, Blaise had always followed in his father’s footsteps most, but there was one thing they didn’t agree on.

“Father,” he said, his voice very low in the back of his throat as he watched Carewyn ride away at a fast gallop, “I don’t approve of her returning to that place.”

Charles smiled coldly. “You always have disliked sharing your toys with others, Blaise.”

“It’s a bad influence!” said Blaise, whirling on his father. “We can’t monitor what she does, how she behaves -- who she speaks to -- how can we hope to keep her, if we consistently open her cage?”

Charles’s eyes, the same color and shape of all of his children and most of his grandchildren, sparkled with something crueler.

“Ah, my boy,” he said sardonically, “you have much to learn about cages. Physical cages have strong bars, but ones easy to see and constantly weathered. But a cage forged carefully in another’s mind...can become so strong that the prisoner willingly chooses to stay.”

Charles turned on his heel, his lips curling up further still even though his face remained so doll-like and emotionless.

“As weak and overemotional of a thing she is, Carewyn is far more like you and me than Lane ever was. She’s very resourceful and she’ll do whatever she has to in order to get what she wants -- and that drive fuels everything she is and does. It may make her spirited, but it also makes it so that as long as she sees Jacob’s life in the palm of my hand...so too will she be.”

Blaise’s eyes flickered with a strange skepticism. “And...if Jacob’s life were ever not under your sway?”

Charles’s expression grew even more detached and emotionless as his smile faded and his eyebrows raised.

“...Would Carewyn really want to contemplate what state he’d be in, if he weren’t?”

Carewyn couldn’t be happier to leave the Cromwell estate behind. She didn’t slow down her horse’s pace until she’d reached the outskirts of the market, well after the manor house was out of sight. Only then did she slow her horse down to a leisurely trot, so that she could enjoy some time on her own wandering down the village streets before heading back to the palace. The castle staff wasn’t expecting her back to work until the following morning, so she could take her time.

Unfortunately for Carewyn, there was another reason her cousin Tristan’s hands had been so muddy -- and that reason soon became apparent when Carewyn reached into one of the pockets on the side of her saddle, thinking to temporarily change out of the pretty shoes Andre had given her and were now pinching her feet for the ride home. When she reached into the pocket, she instead found the tiny snake that Tristan had stolen out of the reeds by the nearby pond.

With a scream of surprise, Carewyn flung the snake to the ground -- the snake arched back, hissing angrily, and that in turn spooked Carewyn’s horse. With a loud, scared whinny, it reared back, bucking wildly.

“Whoa!” cried Carewyn. “Whoa, boy -- whoa!”

Several passerby turned around at the sound of the noise. A few looked like they wanted to help, but were too warded off by the horse’s kicking feet. Carewyn tried desperately to calm her horse, stroking its mane with one hand and clinging desperately onto the reins with the other, but it was no use. She wasn’t strong enough to wrench her horse into submission. And so when the horse gave a particularly violent jerk, Carewyn was thrown right off.

“AHH!”

Out of nowhere, someone dashed forward. Carewyn ended up slamming right into them, and the two landed roughly in a heap in the dirt.

Carewyn watched her horse gallop off the street, her face very tense and distraught. She then looked down at the person she’d landed on top of, and she gave a visible start.

Her “hero” was a man about her age dressed in modest clothes with tanned skin, slightly-too-long dark hair, and a beard. His sparkling black eyes were squinted slightly as he winced in pain, but nonetheless shone with some concern as he looked her over.

“Are you hurt, Lady Cromwell?” asked Orion.

[theuntamednarrator]

I am here

He was trembling within minutes. Even without spirits attacking every minute the trek to the Blade Shrine was exhausting, and the men who had ridden with his brother were strong. Their weight dragged at Huaisang’s limbs like their deaths dragged on his soul.

It wasn’t kind, cultivating with a blade. It was hard work developed for power. No one had ever gained immortality cultivating their way, even those who weren’t cursed to die young of qi deviation like his father and brother. The men and women who came to Qinghe weren’t married, most of them had no family at all. They were from small sects, poor villages, nowhere specks that didn’t appear on any of the gilt maps proudly displayed in Gusu Lan’s Library Pavillion. Some of them were from the streets of Qinghe, boys or girls who had spent childhood watching with gleaming eyes as the men trained, heavy blades flashing like the lightest silk in their skilled hands. No matter who they started, the moment they swore to Qinghe they were Nie. A name for a blade, a blade for a home. Some left of course; his family were not so cruel that they would force others to bind themselves to the life they themselves could not escape. Most did not get that chance.

Zonghui was the last, and the hardest. Part of Huaisang wanted to carry him cradled in his arms, a last apology for his failures. Part of him wanted to lay down there on the flagged stone floor in the innermost chamber and never move again. He did neither. He wasn’t capable of the first, for one, and he would not let himself succumb to the whispered voices that told him Qinghe would be better off without him. They had taken so much from him; they would not take this.

When he emerged, finally, out of the depths and laid Zonghui down beside the rest of their disciples the trembling had become shudders. He collapsed to his knees. He did not remember when the tears had started but his face and the collar of his robes were sopping, tears, and sweat, and blood mingled. He wanted to claw at his skin until it was bloody and raw. Until he had ripped off the top layer, crumpled it like the parchment of a ruined painting. A fresh start. He closed his eyes and breathed in the stillness, the Sabre Hall finally quiet at his back, barely a murmur. He could feel their resentment still, surging, seething, testing, but he understood now. His father’s last commandments to them both, the viciousness with which the spirits had assaulted him in the labyrinth. Together, he and da-ge could balance them, the resentful hungry blood-soaked spirits of their ancestors. For every darkness that stole into his brother’s mind, he must place a light in the world, something beautiful. Like stars against the satin of a night sky, they would support each other.

He blinked open his eyes and took in the cool trees, lit by the last light of dusk. Faintly, he registered the sound of a flute, a moment before the three men came into view. Liebing singing to the spirits of the men Huaisang had not been able to save, calming them, lamenting them. Huaisang felt fresh tears prickle and threw himself without shame into his da-ge’s chest, Nie Mingjue’s arms wrapped around him as he sobbed.

“Shhhh Huaisang it’s okay” the rumbling voice soothed. “I am here.”

Huaisang heard murmured voices and then a rustle of fabric. Soon, the plucked strings of a guqin mingled with the jade notes, stealing over the glade as the night ate up the sky above and the first stars appeared. The melody was similar to the Song of Clarity that Jin Guangyao had taught him, but more soothing, less urgent. Husiang wondered idly if it was by the same composer. Perhaps he would ask er-ge for the book.

He sniffled as he pulled his face from his brother’s waist, his white sash now stained with tears and dirt. Huaisang’s own sash had long relinquished any claim it had to be called white. His glanced towards the other men and froze. As if he felt Huaisang’s eyes on him Jin Guangyao’s hands stilled, and he looked up. His grey robes, once as familiar to Huaisang as his favourite fan, the white sash. His hair, for once visible, was braided in the Qinghe mourning style. He was their Meng Yao, again, and it felt as if all the years and betrayals had fallen away. Huaisang felt like even his tear-swollen heart might be wrung dry before they finally descended. Jin Guangyao swallowed, and looked away, as though he expected to be rebuked. There was a beat, a breath.

“Captain Zonghui and his men were,” the hesitation was infinitesimal, but Nie Huaisang had known Meng Yao too long and loved him too well to miss it. “He was kinder to me than most, his men were good men.”

His brother tensed beside him, and Huaisang felt the arm around his shoulder tighten, holding them fast together. The past came rushing back over them then, never far away, inexorable like the tide. Another moment, and then the song resumed, a duet rolling over the hills, quiet and powerful, until Huaisang could hear nothing else.

~~~

After years of almost silence, Huaisang was not surprised to hear them again as he bowed to the man who had been Meng Yao, had been his companion, his friend. Had been san-ge, had been Jin Guangyao, had been anything but a monster wrapped in gold. A monster who had ripped the calm from Huaisang’s mind and heart just as brutally as his tainted melodies had ripped Nie Mingjue apart from the inside.

Huaisang’s eyes took in the swathes of gold, the intricate embroidery, the sympathetic smile. His stomach roiled. He noted, as if from very far away, that he wore no white sash for their da-ge. He was kinder to me than most. If there were mourning braids in his hair then his hat covered them, impenetrable as his smiling mask.  Resentment, rage, hate, despair, grief, vengeance. Had the other man been wearing a sash, Huaisang might well have ripped it off and choked him with it, tightening his grip watching the nimble fingers scrabbling on cloth, fingernails tearing, until those clever eyes filled with understanding and blood; until he looked at him as Nie Mingjue had in those last moments. Huaisang’s blood boiled, loud in his ears, even as he schooled his tear-stained face, and raised his eyes over his clasped hands.

“Thank you san-ge”.

He stood up, and his eyes fixed on the painting in the centre of the main wall. He had hung it years ago, and visitors had long stopped asking why Nie-gongzi, famed for his taste in art, and music, and other beautiful, meaningless things, should have a ruined painting in his hall. Huaisang did not care to enlighten them. The reminder was his, and his alone, as his vengeance would be.

Many miles away, on a lonely hill soaked in death, the spirits stirred again. Voices growing, clamouring, shouting in his head. Yes they hissed, in voices that sounded like all Huaisang’s nightmares; like his mother’s gasps as she fought for breath on her deathbed, like the snap of a paintbrush, like Zonghui’s blood dripping from Baxia’s blade to a cold stone floor. Voices like his brother’s meridians snapping, blood spattering on the marble steps of JinLin Tai, barely heard over a voice of childhood and comfort which spilled poisoned honey and false grief into his ears.

Yes they sang, and they celebrated as his cracked heart froze to stone. Welcome Nie-zongzhu they crowed, and they were louder, and Huaisang could only hope that he imagined he heard a new voice amongst them. A voice that thundered in his stone heart. I am here.