#had to severely study some old paintings
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
"So weep no longer, though you love me"
#GazPriceWeek Day 3: Blue
#this drawing went through REVISIONS aight#like straight up made it#didnt like it#had to severely study some old paintings#expressionism and such#all that#classical paintings about grief and melancholy#what made them feel that way#came back to it#fixed it#now it fucks#enjoy#kyle gaz garrick#john price#artists on tumblr#cod gaz#cod price#Gazpriceweek#gazpriceweek2024#gazprice#pricegaz#gaz x price#price x gaz#cod mw#cod mw2#cod mw3
410 notes
·
View notes
Text
no one has to know what we do
chapter 2 âą series masterlist
pairing: Dave York x f!reader
summary: Try as you might, Dave and you canât stay away from each other.
word count: 4.4k
tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (readerâs dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave pulls, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, sooooo many pussy slaps (donât look at us), pet names, let me know if anything is missing!
a/n: co-written with my love @joelscurls, who unfortunately couldnât write this entire chapter the way we had originally planned, so youâre stuck with me again. if you notice that some parts are better written than others, those are most likely hers haha <3 this is lowkey my favorite thing that iâve ever put out, and i hope you like it as much as i do đ€
follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jessâs masterlist here and my masterlist here :)
dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics đ€
The phone feels like a paperweight in your hand. Itâs late â you should be sleeping, but you know itâs useless to even attempt shutting your eyes. Itâs too loud in your head right now â that promise of just one time blaring: a warning. Still, you canât help but consider ignoring it, texting David and begging to see him again.
Itâs probably a bit pathetic, yearning for a man who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you beyond a one night stand. Daydreaming about the timbre of his voice, the stretch of his cock. Getting his phone number from your father, whoâs none the wiser. Your father, who is asleep in his own room just down the hall. Being home for the summer has never felt like such a burden.
Guilt eats at you as your fingers hover over the screen, Davidâs contact front and center. It would be so easy to send him a text right now, let him know youâre thinking about him. About the other night. But your conscience reins you in. Your fatherâs face flashes behind your eyes â rage and disappointment painting his features scarlet, and you drop the phone beside you on the mattress with a huff.
Itâs difficult to even imagine the inevitable severity of his reaction if he ever found out. Heâd probably cut you off, the revelation of you whoring around with his friend â and the possibility of this news getting out, tarnishing your familyâs pure reputation â more than enough for him to disown you.
You hate him sometimes. Hate the life heâs forced onto you. Youâre not even interested in studying law â not really. You never had a choice, though. It was determined before you even graduated high school that youâd follow in your dadâs footsteps. And as long as heâs funding your studies, your future, you have no right to complain. This is the life you should want. The life everyone wants. He reminds you of that fact regularly. Him, and his countless snooty club buddies.
But David â David is refreshing.
He doesnât come from old money. He doesnât pinch your cheeks and talk around you rather than to you, declarations of you must be so proud aimed at your father as you stand awkwardly to the side. Youâre pretty sure heâs the first person outside of your professors to really look at you, take interest in anything you have to say in⊠god knows how long.
You can still feel his eyes boring into you. The subtle but tactful brush of his leg against yours under the table. The exhilaration that had thrummed in your veins. Heâd made you feel something. Youâd almost forgotten you could feel anything apart from stress and agitation. And as you lay in bed, mind swimming with arousal and impending remorse, you fear you may not be able to control yourself much longer, consequences be damned.
Heâs not expecting you to reach out.
Why would you? Youâd mutually agreed on that night in his car being a one time thing â just a hookup; something he wouldâve done before meeting Carol. Something he should probably be doing more often now. Except youâve somehow sunk your teeth in him, injected him with a sort of venom.
Because all he can think about is seeing you again.
Itâs wrong â beyond wrong. Youâre so young; still in college, for christ sake. He never met you before the other night, but heâd been stationed overseas with your father when your mother was pregnant with you. He still remembers reading the letters sheâd sent in care packages over his shoulder, the ones detailing her symptoms, what foods she was craving.
Strawberries. She always wanted strawberries. Maybe thatâs why youâre so sweet.
Heâs never been with a woman like you; never had someone trust him with so much vigor. Your needy little pleas, your vehement obedience, your desperation to take all of him in the driverâs seat of his car â you are nothing short of intoxicating.
Still, he tells himself youâre off limits. Trudges through the days that follow with the thought of you bouncing in his lap fogging his head. Struggles to focus at work and recovers in an increasingly poor manner when called on in meetings.
And then, late on a Friday night, you text him.
He only knows itâs you because you tell him so â your full name flashing across the screen followed by an apology for messaging him so late. You say youâre out with friends, and heâd probably have guessed anyway by the typos littering your sentences.
Seconds after the first, another text comes through:
[1:23am] csnt stop thinking about u. pls see me again i promise i wonât twll anyone
Fuck. Fuck.
His muscles tense; his cock twitches in his boxers. And before he does something stupid, like responds, he sets the phone face down on his bedside table. Stalks off to the bathroom with the intention of taking an icy-cold shower, detoxing himself best he can.
He hasnât even closed the door yet when he hears it ring.
The rhythmic jingle drones through his studio apartment, and he all but leaps at the noise. Sure enough, it's you, calling him drunk in the middle of the night.
His head swims. He presses âanswerâ anyway.
âDavid?â Your voice sounds so sugary-sweet, cloying with innocence. He can hear people in the background, maybe your friends, talking about getting another round of drinks.
âAre you okay, sweetheart?â he asks first. You tell him yes; say you're waiting on a rideshare.
He exhales. And even though hearing you is making him dizzy with a fucked up sort of desire, echoes of your pleasured sounds ringing in his ears, he manages to maintain composure when you say, âcan I please come over?â
âDon't think that's the best idea,â he mutters. The lack of conviction in his words would likely be painfully obvious if you weren't intoxicated. But you are, and you whine through the receiver at his rejection.
Dave fights to ignore the increasing stiffness in his boxers.
âPlease,â you beg. Fuck, he loves the way you sound when you beg. âI just got off the phone with my dadâŠhe doesn't want me coming home so drunk; said he's working on a case and Iâll be a nuisance.â
His heart breaks for you. For the girl who just wants a father who loves her, who sees her as a person with feelings. Dave can't imagine ever treating his daughters this way. Would never dream of it.
âC-can I?â your voice sounds through the speaker again â softer, less sure. Like you've prepared yourself already for the blow of him rejecting you too.
âCan'tâ canât you stay with one of your friends?â
You sigh, defeated. âI want to stay with you.â
Itâs not that he doesnât want to. God, it would be so easy to say yes. To go and pick you up from the bar himself, bring you back to his place. Help you sober up a bit and fuck you until you can't take it anymore. But he canât; he shouldn't even be speaking to you right now. He needs to cut this off. Needs to make it clear to you that you can't reach out to him again.
âYouâ we canât.â Heâs stern, direct. It pains him. âThe other night shouldnât have happened.â True, though he doesnât regret it. Not one bit.
Youâre quiet on the other end of the line for a second too long. When you finally do speak again, your voice breaks.
âYou donât like me?â
Heâs going to tell you that of course thatâs not it, that heâs been thinking about you constantly, that he wishes he could get you out of his fucking head. But he doesnât get the chance. Because your friends are laughing boisterously around you, then, sounds growing more and more muffled through the speaker, and youâre telling him rather unceremoniously that you have to go.
The call disconnects with a beep.
You wake the following morning with a dizzying headache, daylight burning a hole between your eyes. With your friend still soundly asleep, you slip out of her room and then her apartment; find yourself home just as your father is getting ready to leave for work.
His travel mug sits on the entrance table as he pulls his shoes on, and you're immediately met with the smells of coffee and his leathery cologne.
âLook what the cat dragged in,â he mutters as he grabs his briefcase. You don't dare look him in the eyes, lest you be met with their disapproving stare.
âHi,â you reply, small and non confrontational. When he doesn't answer, you continue past him, begin your ascent up the stairs toward your room.
âNot very appropriate for a young professional, going out and getting wasted. Your future employer could've been there. Could've seen you acting like an imbecile.â
Annoyance furls behind your temples; makes the pounding in your head grow tenfold.
âWell then they probably won't be my future employer,â you snip.
âProbably not.â
You hear the front door close behind you and, with an agitated sigh, drag your feet the rest of the way up the stairs. You fall onto the covers of your bed, well aware that you should probably shower, but your body feels too heavy, in no way ready to move again just yet.
When you pull out your phone, ready for some mindless scrolling to numb your thoughts for a while, youâre met with a notification that sends your heart racing.
Have fun last night?
From David, sent five minutes ago.
You hastily scroll up, reading your own texts from last night, full of typos and barely coherent. csnt stop thinking about u. Your head falls back with a groan. You had gone out to forget about him, not to drunkenly confess your feelings to him in the middle of the night.
Now that youâre thinking about it, you also vaguely recall speaking to him. You tap on your call log and sure enough, thereâs his name, only minutes after you texted him. You have no idea what you might have said to him, only a blurry memory of being upset about something. Great, this is great.
Sighing deeply, you go back to messages.
i was very drunk. sorry for bothering you
His reply comes almost instantly.
Who said you bothered me?
Youâve only met him once, and yet you can picture his smirk as if youâve seen it a thousand times.
Dave is sipping his coffee, black, no sugar, and listens to Jim going over his plans for the both of them going golfing next weekend, humming occasionally.
It pains him, looking at the man in front of him, while your voice from last night is still ringing through his head. How hurt you sounded, looking for a place to stay, not being welcome in your own home.
When Jim stands up to leave for work, he remains seated, gesturing towards his half eaten bagel, but assuring the other man that he doesnât have to wait for him.
You still havenât left his thoughts. If anything, the longing he feels for you has gotten worse since you told him how much you want to see him again. And heâs so tired of denying himself the one thing he really wants.
Heâs patient, chipping away at the bagel until he sees your fatherâs gray Dodge peel out of the parking lot. And then he gives it another 10 minutes, just to be safe.
Come join me for coffee? Iâm downtown at Roasted Beans.
You respond moments later â such an obedient little thing, you are â letting him know youâll be there shortly. He finishes off his drink, discards the cup along with the bagel wrapper, and orders two fresh coffees.
He sees you before you see him. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, you look so cute as you scan the cafe. Youâre wearing a sundress, the blue fabric dancing around your thighs with every turn of your body, and Dave finds himself entranced by you.
You smile when you finally catch sight of him, your entire face lighting up and he smiles back without a second thought.
You shouldnât meet him again. You really, really shouldnât. But the conversation with your father this morning keeps replaying in your head, the disapproval weighing heavy on you, the feeling of being unable to do anything right.
You long for someone to look at you without judgment, for the sound of good girl against your skin. You long for David.
After last night and the fact that he obviously didnât invite you over, you had thought that for him, maybe it really had been a just one time thing. Like you both had agreed on multiple times.
But then heâd texted you again, asking you to meet him. Itâs almost embarrassing, how quickly you got ready, eager to see him again, despite knowing better.
On the drive over, you run through countless discussions in your head, trying to decide what youâre going to say to him. You have to be reasonable. Thereâs too much at stake. David is a mistake that you wouldnât be able to come back from. Youâre just going to meet him because he asked you to, because thatâs the nice thing to do. Itâll just be coffee, nothing more.
Your resolve crumbles as soon as you see him. His eyes are already on you, their expression so full of want that it makes you ache. You walk over, feigning confidence as you slide onto the chair next to his, a quiet greeting on your lips. The deep, smooth sound of his voice when he returns it is enough to make you melt.
He has already ordered for you. Itâs a small thing, rationally, but itâs once again more care, more attention than youâre used to. Warmth is spreading through your chest, but you try steeling yourself, forcing out the words that youâve prepared to say.
âListen, I want to apologize about last night. I shouldnât haveâ I wasnât thinking straight, Iâm sorry for botheringââ
âHey, sweetheart.â He interrupts your nervous stuttering, his hand gently wrapping around yours on the table. âI already told you that you didnât bother me. If anythingââ He sighs, his grip tightening. âIâm the one whoâs sorry, you were looking for somewhere to stay, I shouldnât have turned you down like that.â
It breaks Daveâs heart, seeing how youâre making yourself smaller, how ready you seem for him to scold you. Your quiet You donât like me? still echoes in his mind. How your own father didnât care where his daughter spent the night, as long as she didnât come home. Didnât bother him.
He clocked the way your eyes widened in surprise at the coffee that he got you, how you huff a relieved breath when he assures you again that heâs not annoyed with you. Youâre so sweet, so deserving of being loved and cared for, and he so desperately wants to be the person who does that for you.
He felt the same pull from that night towards you as soon as he laid eyes on you again, and itâs only gotten worse, now that youâre right next to him, now that heâs touching the soft surface of your hand. He vividly remembers how your skin felt under his fingertips, how you writhed against him.
The urge to get just a taste of that again becomes overwhelming. He holds your gaze as his fingers start gliding over your thighs under the table, inching towards the hem of your dress. Your lips part, the softest whimper escaping your throat at his touch.
He shouldnât, he really shouldnât be touching you like this, shouldnât be thinking about you like this. Canât stop thinking about you. I want to stay with you. How is he supposed to keep away, to stop himself, when you come to him so willingly, so desperate to be wanted?
âDavid?â Fuck, he loves that you call him that. âWill you take me home with you? Please?â
He can tell that youâre scared to ask, bracing yourself to be rejected again. Heâs not nearly as strong as you think he is.
âYes. Come on.â
He pulls you to your feet and out of the door before either of you have the chance to change your minds.
Heâs a bad man, shouldnât be getting off on having total control over you like this. Heâs probably sick; should see that shrink Carol recommended a couple months ago after the divorce was officially finalized. But the way youâre looking at him â with the same big-eyed, doleful stare youâd given him that first night â tells him you want this. Need this, even. You long to relinquish control to someone other than your hawkish father.
So pliant in his lap, limbs all gooey and relaxed under his touch, itâs clear that you trust him. Maybe more than he trusts himself.
Youâre spread out on his couch, clothes hastily discarded as soon as the both of you stumbled over the threshold, already entangled in each other. Heâs led you to the living room, the thought of fucking you in his bed, of your presence lingering there, your scent permeating his sheets, the last invisible line that heâs determined not to cross.
He has been toying with your body, collected your wrists in a hold over your head and told you to keep them there while he flicked and tugged on your nipples, sucked marks into your skin while you writhed underneath him.
Heâs taking it slow, now that youâre here with him, now that he has the time to thoroughly break you down and put you back together again.
Youâre already soaked when he sinks a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around him immediately. You coo up at him â a needy little noise that has his resolve disintegrating in seconds flat â and you look relieved when his hand loosely wraps around your throat.
âPlease,â you whisper then, and he tuts.
âYou want me to take care of you?â
You nod.
âThen you take what I give you. No begging. Do I make myself clear?â
Another noise â this one smaller, stuck in your throat â and heâs pulling his finger out of you again, lips curling into a cruel smile.
He doesnât give you any time to prepare before the first slap lands on your already-throbbing clit. You canât help but shriek. In response, he tightens the grip on your throat slightly. Gives three more stinging smacks in quick succession. Dave almost doesnât notice when your eyes begin to roll back. He does notice, however, when your hips begin to roll upward, your body chasing his hand.
âOh, such a good girl you are,â he praises.
Slap.
âYou love this, donât you?â
âMhm,â you moan, garbled and a little breathless.
Slap.
âPathetic little girl. Bet you could come just from this, youâre so desperate. Couldnât you?â
You gasp.
Slap.
âAnswer me,â Dave demands. âOr Iâll stop.â
Itâs almost comical how quickly you sputter the word yes, eyes desperately pleading with him to keep going. And heâs almost shocked just how badly you needed this. In this moment, any guilt heâd been feeling is replaced with the desperate desire to give you exactly what you crave.
He slaps you again, a little harder this time, and you wail. Your legs are trembling, but you make no move to close them, keeping yourself spread wide open and accessible for him.
Heâs throbbing, fighting the urge to sink his cock into your tight heat, but he wants, needs to know how far he can push you. How far youâll go for him.
Youâre dripping onto his cushions and he collects some of your slick with his fingers, rubs them against your clit. Your skin is burning under his fingertips. He teases the oversensitive nub with gentle touches, relishes in the way your eyes are glued to his face, the way your lips are trembling as youâre silently pleading with him.
No words are escaping you, and youâre so good, making him so proud with how youâre following his commands.
He slaps your clit again, and again, and again, until youâre a babbling mess, your throat constricting against his grip and your back arching as you come with a cry. Wetness floods out of you and youâre shuddering in his hold, broken whimpers of his name falling from your lips.
He watches with sick fascination, almost unable to believe that he drove you to this point. How much you enjoy being treated like this. That youâre just as twisted as he is.
When you come down, your arms weakly reach for him and he scoops you up, pulls you into his lap until your face is nuzzled into his neck.
âGood girl,â he coos, gently stroking your hair, âyou did so good.â
He gives you a few moments to rest, tracing shapes across your back, until his fingers dip deeper, gliding over your ass and between your spread legs, where youâre still so fucking wet.
You squirm under his touch, needy little sounds traveling up to his ears once more. âPlease,â you whisper.
One hand grabs into your hair, pulling your head back until he can see your face. You look wrecked. Pupils blown wide, your eyes wet with tears, but what really gets him is the way you look at him. He had worried, for a second, that he might have been too rough, but thereâs only pure trust and longing in your eyes.
âI thought I told you no begging.â
You bite your lip, furrow your brow in that adorable way of yours. âIâm sorry. It justâ it all feels so good.â
He presses his thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.
âI know it does, sweetheart. You need more?â
You nod quietly, your eyes wide and pleading.
âAlright then.â He turns you over so quickly that you gasp, scrambling for a second to get your bearings. Youâre on all fours, your legs still spread, your ass on display for him.
He had wanted to prepare you a little more, to give you several of his fingers first before he stretches you out on his cock, but he canât possibly hold back any longer. Judging from the loud moan that you let out, he thinks that you like the sting of him sinking into you unprepared.
Itâs even better than he remembers, your slick walls engulfing him so tightly. He starts pounding into you, the depth of his thrusts jolting your body forward and forcing more sounds from you.
He wants you to still feel him tomorrow, wants you to remember him, wants to stake a claim that he knows he doesnât have. He groans your name, his fingers digging into your hips, greedy for every part of you that he can reach.
Perfect, youâre so fucking perfect, giving yourself to him like this.
âCome on,â he growls, reaching down to find your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. âGive me another one.â
You cry out, pushing back against him. So fucking eager. He lands two quick slaps on your ass and you fall apart, trembling wildly as your walls pulse around him and you scream out his name.
He canât hold himself back any more and follows you over the edge, pumping into you once more and holding your hips pressed against his.
You both collapse down onto his couch, a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs and quick breaths. You curl your body into his and he presses kisses against your cheeks, your temples, your lips.
Slowly, as heâs coming back to his senses, the guilt settles in.
He lets go of you much too quickly, stands up and starts getting dressed quietly. You watch him for a moment, wracking your mind for something to say, before he looks at you.
âGet dressed. Iâll drive you home.â
He sounds cold, distant. So different from the man who just took you to heights that you didnât know existed until now. You suppress a shiver and get up hastily. Suddenly, being naked around him feels much too exposed, too vulnerable for your liking.
You pull your dress over your head and slide your shoes back on, but one crucial item is missing.
âDidâ did you see my underwear?â you force yourself to ask. He shakes his head, not gracing you with a verbal answer.
Eventually, you give up the search and follow him down the stairs and into his car. The silence grows, until its weight is pressing down, almost suffocating you. You steal glances at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road, staring straight ahead, never wavering. A muscle in his jaw is ticking.
The mix of his spend and yours is pooling between your legs, but it makes you feel dirty now. You force down the lump thatâs building in your throat.
When he stops in front of your house, you scramble out of the car without a word. You donât know what would be worse, if he said goodbye like nothing was wrong or if he remained silent. You donât want to find out.
Itâs late in the evening, youâre lying on your bed, eyelids squeezed shut, willing sleep to finally overtake you. Thoughts keep spiraling through your head, so many questions that you have no answers to.
He asked you to meet up, for fuckâs sake. You donât understand why heâs treating you like this, but youâre determined to not let it happen again. Just two times, you think with a bitter scoff.
Your phone vibrates on your bedside table, indicating a new message.
[11:55pm] I canât stop thinking about you either.
Attached is a photo. A photo of a familiar lacy scrap of fabric, grasped in his hand and covered in milky white cum.
Itâs filthy, and wrong, and you feel yourself getting obscenely wet at the thought of him touching himself with your missing panties clutched between his fingers.
Maybe just one more time.
thank you for reading đ€ if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!
#janas fics#fic: wildest dreams#dave york x reader#dave york#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#dave york fanfiction#dave york smut#dave york x you#dave york x female reader#dave york x f!reader#pedrostories
466 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lady Agnew of Lochnaw (1892) đš John Singer Sargent đïž National Galleries Scotland đ Edinburgh, Scotland
Sargentâs dazzling and unforgettable image of Lady Agnew is one of the most famous of his many portraits of fashionable London society. For both the artist and his sitter, the painting was an instant success, establishing Sargentâs reputation as the portrait painter of choice for the London elite and immediately transforming the newly elevated Lady Agnew into a society celebrity.
Sargent was born in Florence and spent his childhood travelling across Europe with his wealthy American parents who restlessly followed the changing social seasons. In 1874 he entered the Paris studio of the stylish French portraitist, Carolus-Duran. The young Sargent combined the flamboyant style of his teacher with his study of old masters such as Rembrandt and VelĂĄzquez but was also influenced by Monet and Impressionism. His provocative and unconventional Portrait of Madame X caused a scandal at the Paris Salon exhibition in 1884; and, when Sargent settled in London in 1886, he initially found it difficult to find clients as his bravura, continental style of painting attracted suspicion. However, his dashing technical mastery and confident manner were ideally suited for aristocratic patronage and he soon won over his critics with his elegant, flattering portraits. When his portrait of Lady Agnew was shown at the Royal Academy in 1893, one contemporary observed: âLondon is at his feet ⊠he has had a cracking success.â
The sitter was born Gertrude Vernon and married Andrew Noel Agnew in 1889. Her husband, fifteen years her senior, was a barrister and later an MP and deputy-Lieutenant in Wigtownshire; he succeeded his father as 9th Baronet of Lochnaw in 1892, shortly before Sargent embarked on this portrait. The exact circumstances behind the commission are not known, but the Agnews may have met the artist through mutual American friends. According to notes in her husbandâs diary, work on the portrait progressed swiftly, and Sargent later recalled that it was painted in just six sittings.
Lady Agnew is shown seated in a Louis XVI chair against the backdrop of a Chinese silk hanging, both of which were standard props in Sargentâs studio. She is reported to have been of frail health; she recovered slowly from a severe bout of influenza in 1890 and was apparently still convalescing and suffering from exhaustion when she sat to Sargent, which may account for her slightly ghostly pallor in the painting. Lady Agnew fixes the spectator with an intelligent, faintly amused gaze but it is her elegant white silk dress and lilac sash that threaten to steal all our attention. There are brilliant passages of painting in the highlights, reflections and coloured shadows that show Sargent at his best as a painter of surfaces and textures, the ideal artist for a gilded, polished yet ultimately superficial society.
Sargentâs image of Lady Agnew helped her to become a leading light in fashionable circles, holding lavish salons in her London home. Ironically, the high costs of this hospitality meant that she was eventually forced to sell some family pictures including this portrait which was purchased by the Scottish National Gallery in 1925.
#Lady Agnew of Lochnaw#John Singer Sargent#oil painting#painting#oil on canvas#portrait#1892#american#Gertrude Agnew#National Galleries Scotland#Edinburgh#Scotland#art#artwork#art history
233 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Suit-Making Metaphor
[Written in January, 2024] The cold eventually got bad enough that the Grandma, the kids and I fled to a hotel while Matt stayed at the house with the dogs. We were fortunate to be able to that of course, and sharing a room in a nice warm hotel was not suffering by any stretch of the imagination. Even so, it was stressful. We brought ipads, paints, books and needlework to keep the kids entertained and alleviate some anxiety, but time also had to be made for school workâespecially as they would be going back to class just in time for finals. We made lists of their classes, what they had to study, what we could help with and what questions would need to be put to their teachers.
Henryâs 16 now (!!) and instead of an exam, his Humanities final was a personal essay. We chatted a bit about his writing process, what he liked about what he had done so far and what was frustrating for him. Though he had a terrific topic, heâd written and rewritten his opening paragraph several times and wasnât making any real progress.
Been there, buddy.
As we talked, I stumbled on a metaphor that I found helpful, and so Iâm going to try and share with you roughly what I said to him, and perhaps some of you will find it helpful too.
I get it, I do. Itâs exactly my inclination as well. But writing like this-- where you try to perfect everything as you go, effectively writing the third draft before you finish the first--itâs like trying to make a suit from the top to the bottom. You canât make a suit like that. You canât start with the collar and get that perfected and then move to the shoulder. You canât topstitch the upper part of the button placket before the bottom even exists. And even if you could figure how to do it that way, your suit isn't going to fit. Because thatâs just not the best way to make a suit. Finishing the thing from top to bottom is not the best way to write, either. You start by choosing your fabricâyour topic. What material are you going to craft the suit from? Whatâs the subject of the essay? You want to write about your relationship to various monsters. Thatâs terrific! Thatâs like a nice wool; thereâs heft thereâmemories and feelings and personal details that resonate as truths; it should make a rich and interesting suit. Now, instead of cutting out the collar immediately, letâs choose a pattern. We need a pattern to help us cut the wool into the proper shapes. The pattern is the very basic structure of your essay. How might you organize your thoughts and feelings about monsters? The order isnât as important as the categories. For the suit jacket, weâll need right front, left front, sleeves, collar, lining etc. For the essay, what monsters do you want to write about? King Kong, the Rancor, the Minotaur and Bernard the Bull. Perfect. Cutting the pattern pieces out is equivalent to gathering your thoughts on each monster. Write freely about each one, taking the time to remember in as much detail as possible where you first encountered each monster, how old you were, etc. Go through each of your senses to help you recall the moment. What did you see? Smell? Taste? Feel? Who was with you? How did you feel in your body? How did you feel in your heart? Include everything that jumps out at you, you can always edit it down later. In our metaphor, this step is not just cutting out the pieces but also taking the time to transfer the pattern marks. You might not need them all, but you're sure to make a finer suit if you have them all available. Once you have the pieces, the next step is to see how they fit together. Read through each monster and look for connections. Is there an order that suggests itself? Rearrange and then edit and expand to highlight those connections. The first pass of this is basting stitchesâloose connections just to test the fitâonce youâre happy with the shape you can go ahead and lay in seams. Here is where our parallels start to fall apart: For the suit, youâll want to do all the finishing touchesâthe handstitching, buttons, pressing, etc.âand then try it on and style it. But in writing your essay, these steps are reversedâstyling is crafting the last paragraph, bringing the piece to a close. Your essay doesnât have to wrap up neatly, in fact, you donât want it to be too matchy-matchy. Just as an outfitâs style is improved by personal idiosyncrasies, a piece of writing is enriched by the author's capacity to engage with complexity and ambiguity. With the styling done--when you really know what it is you're trying to say--now you can go back with needle and thread and do that hand-stitching: tighten the prose where you can, polish rhythms, word choice, grammar and voice. With the whole of the thing in front of you, you now have what you need to do the kind of âthird draftâ finishing work that was impossible to begin with.
This might be the very definition of beating a metaphor to death, but I surprised myself with it. It was as revelatory for me as it was for Henry--probably more so.
And with that, I need to get back to those now-422 emails.
Cheers,
Kelly Sue
PS New creator-owned book coming out late fall this year--first launch in a decade or so, I think? I do need to figure out this whole newsletter/blog conundrum sooner rather than later. Advice and opinions welcome.
231 notes
·
View notes
Text
Reiji Sakamaki Childhood HCS
I think because vampires age differently, Shuu would have been physically around 5 or 6 years old when Reiji was born.
Reiji was born on an uncharacteristically cold, August morning.
Shuu was ecstatic when his mother told him he would be a big brother. He helped to paint the nursery room for Reijiâs arrival, wrote in his journal about his excitement, and cried for hours when he couldnât be in the delivery room.
Reiji, against popular belief, was the worst crier between the two- already grieving the neglect of the years to come.
Shuu was the only one who could stop Reiji from crying. Beatrix could always find Shu laying on the floor, building wooden castles for his baby brother.
Reijiâs bitterness began when he once asked Beatrix if he could take lessons with Shuu, to which she responded with a very firm, âNo.â
At meals, he sat across the table from his mother, with Shuu at the head. His portions were significantly smaller.
His favorite subject to study as a preteen was ancient literature. He imagined himself as the hero in every story. Traveling far, far away from home, being celebrated by thousands, being king...
As he grew up, he cringed at the realization that he would never be the main character in the story, and he began to favor alchemy.
Along with core subjects, he and Shuu practiced fencing. Reiji trained until his hands call0used and his knuckles bled, but he could never best his brother.
When Reiji learned of the human holiday of Motherâs Day, he went all out in an attempt to win Beatrixâs favor. He took over cooking and cleaning for their household for the day and served all of Beatrixâs favorite dishes. He annotated a special edition copy of her favorite book. All to no avail as she said he should focus on performing these duties in the future, as Shuuâs right-hand man.
The first time Reiji notices Shuu and Edgar, he watches from far away. After dinner that night, Reiji asks Shuu if he may join them the following morning. With Shuuâs no, Reijiâs heart truly begins to blacken towards humanity.
In the days leading up to his arson, Reiji makes several attempts to reconnect with Shuu.
He covers for Shuu when his mother asks his whereabouts, has their tailor repair a tear in Shuuâs blue sweater, uses his pocket money to buy him new rosin.
When he tells Shuu of all heâs done for him, Reiji can only see his motherâs reflection in his older brotherâs eyes. Shuu hardly gives him a second glance, before leaving to play with his newfound village friend.
How could his brother, his blood-bound friend, abandon him for a human?
How could a mother, when written about in stories as women with fountains of unconditional love, show such disdain for him?
Shuu comes home one late September night complaining of a disagreement he and Edgar had had over their shared snack of apples earlier that day. Reiji, living vicariously through Shu, and with no friends of his own, clung to his brotherâs every word. If Edgar had upset him enough, would Shuu come back to be Reijiâs friend again?
In a final attempt to win both the affection of his mother and the friendship of his brother, Reiji burns Edgar and his village to the ground.
I would love some feedback on these!! Feel free to send asks if you want to see any more.
#reiji sakamaki#subaru sakamaki#ayato sakamaki#laito sakamaki#kanato sakamaki#diabolik lovers#shu sakamaki#diabolik lovers headcanons#dialovers#sakamaki brothers
154 notes
·
View notes
Text
Glass Cuts Deepest (1)
[ professor! ⹠Aemond x student! ⹠female ]
[ warnings: angst, mention of trauma and violence ]
[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Previous and next chapters:Â Masterlist
_____
She remembered exactly the one sunny afternoon when, still being a small child, she walked with her father into an old, gigantic Gothic church that seemed to her to be so high that it reached up to the sky.
As they stepped inside they were struck by the distinctive smell of incense, dampness and a strange, disturbing echo with each of their steps, as if reminding them that they were in the House of God.
She remembered clearly the narrow, long windows filled with figures of saints, shimmering with various colours of glass, as if they were really looking at her from the heavens themselves. The rays of the sun shone through them like the glory of God himself, and she thought then that she wanted to learn more about them.
She quickly began to draw. At first it was just her favourite cartoon characters, but as she got older she began to take an interest in art and paintings â on all her school trips she would look curiously at the works of the old masters in art galleries and then read about them at home.
When she managed to get into a painting department at a state university, it seemed like the happiest day of her life. One of the specialisations she could choose after the first year was that of stained glass, and it made her face flush all the more because she knew who taught there.
Although there were as many as three professors in the stained glass department, only one, the youngest of them, namely Professor Targaryen was so spectacularly successful internationally, to which he also owed his quick habilitation being only six years older than her.
For all she knew his talent had already been recognised during his studies and he was now carrying out gigantic commissions for new churches built by the richest archbishops.
She had seen his work in one of the churches in her town and had to admit that he was one of the best stained glass artists of their generation.
The holy figures in his works seemed light and halting, partly Baroque and partly Mannerist, their faces expressing some kind of heavenly anticipation, wonder or melancholy, the colours of the glass he chose contrasting wonderfully under the sunlight, creating a breathtaking composition.
He was a genius.
During her first year at university, she saw him fleetingly several times during a class on the basics of stained glass design, where everyone, no matter what specialisation they wanted to choose afterwards, learned how to cut glass with diamond blades, paint it and apply patina.
They were then taught by his assistant professor, Cregan Stark, and Professor Lannister's doctoral student, Meera. Both were very warm and patient â she took great joy in these lessons and stayed after hours to complete her work.
One day Cregan stood over her and seeing her painting her saint's face for the third time, this time with satisfying results, he nodded his head in approval.
"You are very hardworking and you are doing well. You should choose stained glass as a speciality." He said softly. She blushed all over and hopped up in her chair, happy.
"I am so pleased to hear that. I would love to study in your workshop under Professor Targaryen." She said quickly with excitement in her voice, and he raised his eyebrows and laughed. She blinked, confused.
"Forget about it, I advise you well. You're a good girl and you don't deserve what would happen to you there." He said, scratching his chin, looking at her apologetically, as if he resented himself for getting her hopes up. She felt a tightness in her throat not understanding what he was implying.
"What do you mean, sir?" She asked uncertainly and he sighed heavily.
"Ask your fellow students."
His words kept her awake and made her feel very uncomfortable â she had heard that Professor Lannister sometimes liked to flirt with his female students.
Was Professor Targaryen the same way?
Or worse?
Reflecting on this, she realised as she walked past the room where his students worked that she had never seen any women.
She asked this out loud the next day to her female colleagues, who looked at her surprised.
"Didn't you hear about that incident two years ago? He slapped one female student in the face during class. And she wasn't even his student! It landed him on the rug with the rector himself and he almost didn't get fired from the university. He owes his position only to his achievements and that thanks to him our university keeps getting new assignments from the curia." Said Ellyn, and she swallowed loudly, shocked by her words.
"Is it known why he did it?" She asked uncertainly. Lysa shrugged her shoulders.
"Apparently it enraged the rector the most. He didn't explain why he did it, he just said that she deserved it and that no whore â he probably meant woman â would cross the threshold of his workshop. He has one artificial eye and a huge scar, maybe because no woman wants him he behaves this way."
She lowered her gaze, heartbroken, feeling the cold sweat on the back of her neck, her heart pounding like mad.
What kind of man was this?
Now she wasn't surprised why Cregan had told her to let it go.
However, the closer she got to choosing a speciality and a workshop, the more she felt the need to fight for what she wanted.
Maybe if she stayed away from him and just worked hard he would give her a break?
Maybe he was annoyed by the way the girls dressed or behaved?
She decided to give it a try.
Despite everyone warning her not to do so, she submitted the papers, writing his name as her supervisor, whose workshop she applied to.
She had a feeling that it would lead to some kind of earthquake, but in the field of stained glass she wanted to be like him.
She thought through how she would dress â she decided that since she didn't like women, she would try to look as neutral and bland as possible.
She put on a large black hoodie from under which neither her breasts nor her buttocks were visible, tight black trousers and trainers. She tied her hair up in an elaborate braid to keep it out of her face, applied only foundation and no other make-up.
Dressed like this, she came to the first meeting of the new semester, where students found out what classes they had and met their lecturers.
She entered the room full of men and complete silence fell; she saw that the professor wasn't there yet, so she sat down with her notepad and pen at the very end of the table to just disappear. One of the boys with dark, curly hair turned to her.
"You're brave, but I already feel sorry for you. He'll kick you the fuck out of here." He said amused, several of the other boys laughed nervously.
She lowered her gaze, horrified, beginning to regret doing this instead of going to another professor who would have welcomed her applications with open arms.
When the door suddenly opened she curled into herself, not looking in that direction, resting her chin on her hand, swallowing loudly. She heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and someone sighing, then the rustling of pages.
"I'll start by reading out the list and welcoming the new students." She heard a cold, indifferent, stern voice that sent shivers through her, felt her breath get stuck in her throat with fear.
"Allan Baratheon."
"Mark Arryn."
"Royce Hightower."
"Matthias Martell."
"Well. I welcome you and will get straight to the task ahead of you this term." He said calmly, putting down the sheet of paper â she felt the stares of all the students on her.
He hadn't read her out.
She was sure she was on the list.
She pressed her lips together lifting her gaze to the boy who had spoken to her earlier â he just raised his eyebrows with a shrug of his shoulders in an I told you so gesture.
For a moment she wondered what she should do, feeling tears of helplessness under her eyelids â still not looking at him she raised her trembling hand slowly upwards. She heard him fall silent for a moment, but then he continued as if nothing had happened.
"â I have decided to hold a competition for the best design for three window quarters with a representation of the Virgin Mary surrounded by saints. The design will be chosen by me and the bishop, who will pay for the whole order, and then the whole workshop will work together to make this chosen design. Cregan will send you by e-mail the dimensions of each window and which specific saints are to be depicted. That's all."
He said and simply stood up, taking his papers and coffee and left, not paying any attention to her or her hand. Her classmates looked at her in shock.
"Oh fuck, that was horrible. He completely pounced on you. I'm so sorry." Her year mate said, patting her on the back, and she burst into tears, hiding her face in her hands.
"Don't cry. This is not about you. Go to Lannister and don't spoil your nerves." Said one of the older students and everyone slowly began to leave the room.
She looked blankly at her notebook and decided that she would try one last time.
She would try to talk to him.
She left and approached the locked room where a placard with his name on it was posted. She heard two voices coming from it, in one she recognised Cregan.
"â she's not like that, Aemond. Really. She focuses on her work, she's diligent. Three times I made her start the same face over and she did it without saying a word. She is humble and learns quickly. It's a shame to give her up to waste to Jason or Floris â" She heard Stark's voice and felt warm in her heart at the thought of him trying to defend her. For a moment he was answered by silence.
"No. There are always problems with them sooner or later. She was almost crying by now. I don't want any weepy scenes in my workshop. I â"
He didn't finish because of the loud knock on their door. She heard someone stand up inside, then the door opened and she saw Cregan standing in front of her. He shook his head quickly letting her know that this was a very bad idea, but she had already made up her mind.
She wanted to look him in the face before she gave up completely.
"Please, find five minutes for me, Professor." She directed her words to him rather than Cregan.
He sighed heavily, stepping back and it was only then that she noticed a fair-haired man with his short hair pulled back in black turtleneck, looking at her as if he had never seen a more disgusting thing on earth.
His artificial eye was cold and lifeless, his nostrils moving restlessly, his jaw clenched tight â she thought he looked more like a sculpture rather than a human being.
He seemed empty to her, created from stone rather than flesh.
He was silent for a long time and then rolled his eyes, sighing heavily and hummed under his breath, pulling out his phone, turning on the stopwatch.
"Five minutes." He said lowly, and Cregan quickly walked out, leaving them alone, closing the door behind him. She wanted to come closer, but his voice stopped her.
"Don't come up, just stand there and talk. You're running out of time." He burst out coolly, still facing her in profile, tapping his fingers impatiently on his armrest. She swallowed loudly, feeling her throat dry up, and opened her mouth to tell him all that she was holding inside.
"I know what rules you have set in your workshop and I wish very much now that I had been born a man, but unfortunately I am not." She said with difficulty hearing her voice tremble. She glanced at him and saw that he was still listening to her, so she continued.
"I saw your artworks while I was still in high school at St. John's Cathedral, and having always dreamed of creating stained glass for churches, I wanted to be taught by someone who is such an accomplished specialist in the field as you are, sir. I know how difficult the job is and I promise to do what you tell me to do without a shadow of dissatisfaction. I will not approach you except to revise my designs or projects. I will always work at the furthest table and sit in the last seat as far away from you as possible, dressing in such a way that you do not notice me and forget my existence on a daily basis. Please." She whispered the last word weakly â she saw his adam's apple waving as he swallowed loudly, tense.
He remained silent.
"Just because you're a fan of my works doesn't make you a talented person. What good is it to me that you work in silence if none of your pieces will be at least satisfactory and your colleagues will have to correct your mistakes?" He asked dryly, lifting his stern gaze to her â she swallowed loudly, feeling small, feeling like a nobody.
She did not bring her designs with her.
"Well. All I have with myself now are quick sketches in my notebook. They're portraits of people I see travelling on the bus to my classes." She said quickly and he sighed heavily, frustrated, and ran his hand over his face.
"So you are unprepared." He summarised, and she furrowed her brow, shaking her head.
"None of my colleagues had to â" She began, but he threw her a sharp, annoyed look and she realised at once that she had to back off, had to humble herself.
"â I â yes, I'm unprepared. I'm very sorry." She mumbled, fiddling with her notebook in her hands, her lips tightening.
He turned his head away from her, but extended his hand towards her in a movement full of impatience. She approached him uncertainly, handing him her sketchbook without touching his skin. He sighed and began to look quickly through what was inside without interest.
She saw that he had stopped at a few drawings, depicting a young woman with a child on her lap, an old man wearing a large black cap and winter scarf, and a stooped man asleep leaning his temple against the glass.
She saw him massaging his forehead and closing his eyes, clearly fighting with himself internally. He closed her notebook and waved it in his hand.
"Three of your fifteen sketches I would consider good. Do you think that's enough?" He asked dryly, without even looking at her. She felt a squeeze in her heart and a wave of disappointment knowing what he meant to say.
"No. It's not enough."
He hummed under his breath agreeing with her opinion, and then with a light flick of his hand, he tossed her notebook into the bin that stood by his desk. He glanced at her reaction and she gasped.
He wanted her to cry, to run out hurt and humiliated, to leave him alone.
No.
"So I'll do 200 sketches, 40 of which will be good. Or 300 of which 60 will be good. I will do as many of them as you see fit, Professor." She said with an effort, trying with all her might not to cry again.
He looked at her coldly in silence, the bell on his phone ringing out like something final. She felt cold sweat on the back of her neck as he reached over and muted his app, turning his profile back to her again.
"400 sketches. And they're all supposed to be good. Without them, don't even show yourself to me. Anything else?" He asked, and she shook her head.
"No. Thank you for the chance, Professor." She muttered and just walked out, closing the door behind her, feeling her whole body tremble.
He wasn't a man, but a walking monster breathing fire.
Cregan walked up to her, looking at her in horror, clearly seeing how pale she was.
"Did he agree?" He asked in a whisper, as if he was afraid he would hear them.
"He told me to bring him 400 good sketches and not to show my face to him without it." She mumbled apprehensively, wondering how long it would take her and how she would decide which were good and which were not. Stark looked at her in disbelief.
"I know it's no consolation, but you've just achieved the impossible." He said with some kind of admiration, and she sidestepped him, not knowing if she could call it that herself.
When she got home she started searching the gossip portals in the hope of finding out something about the incident from a few years ago, guessing that it must have been a big scandal and she was not disappointed.
Admittedly, she couldn't find his statement anywhere, and the student he slapped gave a wide-ranging explanation.
Professor Targaryen showed an unhealthy interest in me from the beginning and was also unpleasant and disrespectful. When we were left alone and I went to him to ask him to proofread my work, as my professor was on sick leave at the time and I wanted to move on with my job, he rose with anger and slapped me on the cheek shouting that I had no right to enter his workshop and invade his privacy. I believe this stems from his complexes and fear of women, and I regret that no justice reached him for this. Unfortunately, in this university everyone cleans each other's hands.
She read this, and she decided that she needed to be wary of him and keep her distance, not to approach him or frustrate him.
She spent the next week from morning to night sketching, sitting in the park and looking at people passing by, but she wasn't satisfied with her results.
She recalled her sketches he had stopped at and wondered what they had in common. She thought that as well as a study of the body there was a kind of melancholy and lightness in them, a snapshot of some fragment of life and situation.
She decided to go to church.
She made sketches of figures from the paintings in prayerful exultation, sculptures facing the heavens with outstretched hands, close-ups of their faces.
She thought he meant a character study like Leonardo da Vinci did, who caught facial expressions and gestures on the fly, making the viewer of his drawings go through a thrill of excitement.
She went round all the temples in her city and ended up with 500 sketches, from which she selected the agreed 400. She decided for her own satisfaction to bring him 401 drawings, which she managed to pack into two big folders.
She did not find him in his office so she set off towards his workshop where his senior students and her year mates were gathered. However, she didn't cross its threshold but knocked on the doorframe, eager to get his attention, to get permission to cross that magic line.
He was just leaning over another student's projects and glanced at her with a sharp, disgruntled look, clearly hoping he would never see her again. She lifted up her folders showing that she had brought what he wanted â he sighed heavily and moved towards her, avoiding her by a wide margin.
"Follow me." He said dryly, so she went straight after him. They entered a room with illuminated tables on which glass was usually cut and painted.
"Lay them out here. Show me the top 40." He said impatiently, and she swallowed loudly, wondering what she should show him. Her hesitation frustrated him.
"Can't you judge which of your works are suitable to be shown to me?" He growled and she shook her head, quickly searching for the works that were most memorable to her.
The woman turning to her over her shoulder with an enigmatic smile, the angel looking up to the heavens with his lips parted, the distraught Mother of God looking at her suffering son, Mary Magdalene humbly bent over in prayer, the nun covering her face with her hand, leaning over in thought.
She put down sheet after sheet, counting in her head, but then she lost track, stood up, trying to count them all over again, her heart pounding like mad.
"That's enough." He commanded coolly and walked over to the table, this time looking at each of her works in turn.
She stood at a great distance from him, not daring to come close, his face thoughtful, sharp and tense, his brow furrowed.
She was afraid he was about to humiliate her again, start crumpling up sheet after sheet and throwing them in the dustbin. He picked up a few, however, taking a closer look at them.
"Is that a figure from the church of St Michael the Archangel?" He asked indifferently, and she nodded quickly. He hummed under his breath and added nothing, putting the piece of paper down, watching further, his hands entwined at his back.
It seemed to her that his silence lasted for ages.
"A month. For a trial. If you disappoint me, I'll kick you out." He said low and unenthusiastic, turned and walked out, simply leaving her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, hiding her face in her hands, and burst into sobs.
She had made it.
_____
Aemond Taglist:
(bold means I couldn't tag you)
@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess
#aemond fic#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen#aemond x oc#hotd aemond#aemond x fem!reader#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell fanfic#aemond fanfic#dark aemond smut#dark aemond#dark aemond targaryen#modern aemond angst#dark modern aemond#modern aemond smut#modern aemond#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#ewan mitchell smut#aemond targeryen angst#aemond targaryen angst#aemond angst#hotd angst#hotd smut#aemond kinslayer#prince aemond#aemond one eye#aemond#hotd fanfiction#hotd fanfic
431 notes
·
View notes
Text
Quixotic - STSG - ch 1
satosugu x fem!reader . ft. model!gojo & designer!geto
next
!! do not repost/copy on any other platform !! if u do at least lmk where and give creds đ !! pls donât tho <3
cw: power dynamics/imbalance?? ,, established!stsg (no cheating) ,, webtoon inspired & lwk self-indulgent đ ,, y/n may be unlikable idk ntm on her guys đ„°
exes to lovers (gojo) ,, one-sides enemies to lovers w geto ,, very feminine + slight meek reader??
a/n!! :: hi this is my first fic ,, have mercy <33
some prior info for now i will add more later (and clean it up)
- not much of an age gap, suguru is js very successful at a young age.
- takes place 2 years after their breakup (mc | satoru)
- y/n is currently a fashion major in her final year of college and fortunately lives near her college and the shadowing program.
- the general plot is y/n is shadowing (following around, studying, etc. not rlly working for him
- NOTTT really real life accurate đ„°
Had you known that coming across your biggest idol would come along with meeting your oh so beloved ex, you wouldâve thrown away whatever dreams had clouded your ambitious mind. Yet lo and behold, in front of you stood one of the most renowned fashion designers in the industry with your ex-boyfriend hanging off of him as a price tag (a very expensive tag for that matter).
Suguru Geto stood with pride as his spine and extravagance as his feet, hair that couldâve been painted with the midnight sky half up while the rest cascaded down his back. With an arm on his shoulder, and hair that would make the moon had Suguruâs been the sky, stood Satoru Gojo, your beloved ex. Both men dressed to the nines, outfits that were worth your monthly rent each.
You had cursed the creak of the door that had announced your entrance when you saw them. Gojo however, remained unaware of the stress that climbed your body. Instead, his lifted his eyes to meet yours, blinking back yet letting a small grin tickle his face. âY/N!â his voice had drawn Suguruâs eyes to follow his line of sight like a siren.
Now, you and Gojo hadnât had a horrendous break-up (although itâs after affects on you werenât quite so), in fact it was rather peaceful (while it lasted). Gojo had called your 2 years of love off when he decided that he wanted to pursue a bigger, grander, future, one that apparently hadnât included you. While he had wanted to go out, meet new people, flitter about the industry, the strain of a relationship had left awkward stains on his work. Especially certain modeling gigs that made him some extra cash.
It was your final year out of college and as one of the top students in your major, you had been provided a shadowing opportunity with various fashion designers to mentor the new rising generation of fashion. However, the pairings were randomized and the last person youâd expect to be yours was one of the greatest and youngest designers, who was also rumored to be your exes lover. How romantic. You had come across Getoâs work originally in a magazine for your project, and had looked him up online. While doing your extended research, you had seen the bright face of Gojo on several of his posts wearing his designs. Immediately you fell in love with his success, ethic, and designs. Dresses so intricate and suits embellished, as if they had walked straight of the manhwas you read.
Getoâs brow had raised at the mention of your name, no doubt familiar with it and the story that may have came with it. His eyes pierced through you, a small hum and what appeared to be a shadow of discontent danced over his face before it went away. He had leaned closer into Gojo after a thorough inspection of you. the rumors hold true then
âHi.â slipped through your lips at last, however, meek. You feel 12 again showcasing your painting to the old judges in an art contest. Not an ounce of professionalism. Perhaps it wasnât to late to run out yet.
âY/N? I heard lots about youâ Suguruâs voice came out like silk drowned in a snakes hiss, anxiety bubbled in your blood. âGood things I hope..I look forward to working with you..?â His lack of facial response had you lost in which direction to move this conversation. Instead of a response he simply hummed at looked back at the paper in his hands. Gojo, just as awkward standing beside him.
I wanna go home
©sugusoneandonly 2024
next
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#geto suguru#jjk suguru#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#geto x gojo x reader#gojo x reader x geto#reader x geto#gojo x geto x reader#satosugu x reader#stsg x reader fluff#stsg x reader angst
183 notes
·
View notes
Text
A little respite...
A short Death/Reader oneshot about birthday presents, mugs, and how a Horseman without a heart isn't necessarily heartless. Enjoy! <3 xxx
---
Birthdays, Death supposes, carry far greater significance when one only has a finite number of years in oneâs lifespan.
If thereâs anything heâs grateful for, itâs that modern humans seem to have tailored their annual celebrations to smaller, intimate gatherings, which, in his opinion, are far more tasteful than the ostentatious and plethoric affairs those pharaohs used to throw. If the Horseman thought heâd have to wade through a veritable ocean of humans just to get to your front doorâŠ. Well. He certainly wouldnât have been best pleased, to say the least.
Nestled within the cup of his palm and safely hidden from prying eyes is a small, unassuming parcel. It doesnât look like much, deliberately so. The tiny thing is wrapped in some old parchment he had to pilfer from Azraelâs study. It was the first and only thing he could think of after he belatedly recalled how humans like to peel away a layer of paper before they can lay eyes on whatever has been pre-emptively hidden within it.
You became quite prickly once after he pointed out the aimlessness of the custom.
âSome traditions,â he begrudgingly yielded after several hours of trying to see past your cold-shoulder, âare better left undisputed.â
Trudging along the newly rebuilt street in the direction of your home, Death makes every conceivable effort to avoid the stares and shocked gasps from the few humans who are still milling about in the golden light of the evening.
Even after the Resurrection and the frequent comings and goings of the Horsemen, angels, makers and even the occasional demon, Humanity still hasnât grown accustomed to seeing the Grim Reaper skulking about on their planet.
In the corner of an eye, he sees a man haul a small girl into his arms and scurry to the opposite side of the street, and it takes everything in the Horseman not to sigh.
It isnât long before he finds himself turning onto the short, gravel path leading up to your front door. His footfalls make no sound on the loose stones, and the parcel is starting to carry weight in his palm now.
Coming to a halt on the step, his eyes drift down to the faded mat by his boots that reads âWelcome.â
The Horseman scoffs, as he does every time he sees it. Sometimes youâre too hospitable for your own good.
Giving his shaggy head of hair a bemused shake, he reaches for the doorknob, only to pause.
Another custom best left undisputed⊠Humans donât like it if you enter their home unannounced.
Curling his hand into a fist, he instead gives the wood three, solid raps with his knuckles before letting his arm drop back to his side, briefly giving a thought to what it must seem like for an onlooker to witness the ancient Nephilim ceding to human habits.
With a grunt, he leans back on his haunches to wait, idly counting the cracks that have formed in the plaster surrounding your doorframe, each one betraying the frequency of visits made by his younger sister, Fury. Itâs a wonder the entrance is still intact with how often she barges in and out, scuffing the paint and chipping off wooden flakes with her armoured shoulders.
Sometimes she forgets that while she might have the slightest build of the Horseman, sheâs still unconventionally large from the average humanâs point of view. Regardless, you havenât said a word to her about the marks, as far as Death is aware, and somehow, he doubts you ever will.
His ears prick towards the sound of shoes trotting hurriedly across linoleum, approaching your front door.
âComing! Coming!â your voice calls out, instantly shaking loose that little fragment of unease that sits between Deathâs ribs every time he comes to your home and waits outside the door. Thereâs a private part of him, a part heâll never reveal, that dreads the day he knocks without receiving an answer.
The handle rattles, a lock slides out of place, and once again, he hears you speaking from the other side of the wood.
âYou guys are early!â you laugh, âI havenât changed yet, but Iâm-â
Your sentence trails off into silence as the door is tugged open and you poke your head into the light outside, brows scrunching together as your eyes fall upon a pale, cadaverous chest.
Blinking, you dart a look up, only to gasp at the sight of an all too familiar bone-mask tilting down towards you, inclined in acknowledgement.
âDeath?â you gape, your expression falling open in shock.
Another oddity of humans, he finds. Even when you can clearly see whatâs right in front of your nose, you still feel the need to ask for clarification, as though you can never fully trust what your eyes are seeing.
âIn the flesh,â he says, gesturing up and down at his emaciated waist and sinewy chest, âIâm pleased you still recognise me, given our months apart.â
And it has been months. Six and three days, to be exact. Not that heâs counting.
It happens the moment he drops his arm back to his side. Like the sun rising over the peak of a dark mountain, your face bursts open with bright, glimmering warmth.
The corners of your mouth retreat from each other, spreading your lips into a grin so wide that your cheeks round out and squeeze your eyes halfway shut with unbridled delight as a laugh gushes out of you, bouncy and awestricken.
âDeath!â Without warning, you bound across the threshold and - showing no hint of a reservation - throw your arms around the Horsemanâs lean torso, burying your face into the concave dip below his chest, âOh my god! I didnât think Iâd be seeing you today!â
And because he still hasnât grown used to your displays of affection, Death forgets the etiquette and freezes in place, arms hovering rigidly above your own and his chin tucked into his neck, as though heâs mildly alarmed at your sudden proximity.
And because you know he isnât used to affection, you donât hold him hostage for long.
Pulling away only seconds later, you sweep a hand through your hair, clutching loosely at the strands as you take a step back and give the Horseman a quick once-over, beaming all the while.
âI canât believe you actually made it! This is the best birthday ever!â
Well, if that isnât the most flattering thing heâs heard all year.
âOh! Would you like to come in?â you ramble on, stepping aside and sweeping your hand into the hallway behind you, âIâve got people arriving for a party, but not for, like, another hour. So, you can stick around orâŠâ
âAh, regrettably, I canât linger for long,â he interrupts, holding up a palm to quiet you. He truly canât stay. And not just because heâs disinclined to âparty.â
Heâs heard whisperings of a demon uprising stirring in a city across the sea. He and War have made plans to travel there under the cover of darkness to investigate, and heâs already behind schedule. He notices that you make a considerable effort not to let your expression droop, though he can tell by the pinch of your lips that youâre disappointed.
He⊠hopes he can make it up to you with the tiny package hidden safely within his palm.
Clearing his throat, Death flexes his fingers, wrestling with doubts for a moment before he gives himself a mental kick and forces his hand out from behind his back, thrusting the parcel under your nose.
âHere,â he grunts as he gives it a gentle shake, willing you to take the damn thing rather than continue to blink down at it in surprise, âI understand gifts are customary on oneâs⊠birthday, hm?â
⊠For a long time, you donât say a word. You merely look at the Horsemanâs palm as though heâs holding a live grenade, your eyes round and wide and uncertain. In fact, you remain silent for so long, that for once, Death is the one who feels compelled to explain himself.
âI⊠wrapped it,â he ventures, frowning behind his mask at the parcel, â⊠Although, I suppose it isnât very good, is it.â Now that he's presented it to you, he's only just noticing how shoddy and rushed the job must look. In fact, he realises he must have stolen parchment that Azrael was in the middle of writing on, judging by the ink smudges that are only half hidden beneath the thin twine he used to bundle the whole thing together.
Mind racing, he scans your expression for tells, anything thatâll clue him in as to whether heâs made a mistake in bringing you something at allâŠ
Perhaps⊠he was misinformed. It might be a grave insult to give a human something on their day of birth. Damn that half-wit brother of his, Strife. If heâs fed Death another lie to make him look foolish in front of you, why, heâll-
A soft touch alights upon his palm.
Deathâs gaze snaps down to see your tiny fingers curling tentatively over the parchment, and it takes a lot of concentration to keep his appendages from twitching as you slide the parcel out of his palm, brushing your thumb over his in the process.
âYou⊠got me a present?â you ask gently, staring down at it before flicking your eyes up to peer at the Horseman from beneath your lashes.
Slowly, he retrieves his arm, giving it a shrug and sniffing, âItâs nothing particularly special.â
But youâre already pulling at the twine's lacklustre knot, delicately peeling away crinkled parchment to reveal the gift inside.
When you finally unfold all of the paper, a soft sound of wonder escapes your parted lips, and your face is illuminated in a soft, green glow.
Itâs a flask. A tiny flask no larger than your thumb, cut from thick, crystalline glass and stoppered at the top with a chunk of cork. The flask itself has had a silver chain welded to the neck that glints in the sunlight as you bring it closer to your face to peer inside. Clinking around behind the glass, you spot a piece of shard, green as a summer field, glowing prettily like a captured firefly, small and dainty but luminous enough to cast its light through its crystal prison.
âIâm sure Muria could have made you something prettier,â the Horseman mumbles, âIâm no maker. But, I always did have a knack for crafting these talismans⊠You wouldnât believe how hard it was to convince Fury to carry oneâŠ
ââŠDeathâŠâ you breathe.
âYours is modified, of course," he ploughs ahead, clearing his throat, "Now, it wonât keep you safe indefinitely.â There's a pause, and you think you hear him mutter âyetâ under his breath before he continues, âBut it will serve as a shield, of sorts. If youâre ever injured-â Reaching out, he taps his nail against the glass. â- This will bear the worst of the damage. So long as you wear it, your skin will be harder to break. Your bones will only splinter where they might have shattered. You will be, in a word, protected.â
You canât reply for a moment, your throat is too clogged with things you donât know how to say.
You know this talisman. You know it because youâve seen the one Fury keeps tucked beneath the high neck of her cuirass. She insists that Strife and War carry them too, though the brothers have yet to relinquish that secret to you just yet.
Nephilimâs Respite. Itâs a protective trinket made by the eldest Horseman to safeguard his brothers and sister on their travels.
Death made them for his siblings. His family.
And now, here you are, holding the self same talisman in your hand.
You try to maintain your composure. You really do try. But when you blink, youâre slightly dismayed to find your vision blurring and a warm dampness tickling your lower eyelashes.
âAh,â Death utters, drawing his head back to regard your gathering tears, âYouâre crying. That⊠wasnât my intention.â
A watery laugh tumbles out of your mouth, and you raise your unoccupied hand to sweep a wrist across your eyelids. âItâs oka-â you start to sniff, though the Horseman jumps in before you can finish the thought.
âIf the gift isnât to your liking,â he concedes, reaching out to take the talisman back, âI can always-â
â-No!â Clutching the gift defensively to your chest, you throw Death a scandalised look, tears trickling lazily towards your chin, âItâs perfect, itâs just â itâs so much, Death! My god, I got you a mug for Christmas!"
And a fine mug it is, he reflects. Bone china, a yellow warning label with 'Warning, prone to sarcasm' scrawled across its surface in thick, black lettering.
It's one of his most preciously guarded items. He almost fed War's remaining arm to Harvester when the younger Horseman knocked it off his table.
But... you're fretting, and his reminiscing of the the humorous crockery will have to wait.
"You... accept the gift, then?" he asks, halfway convinced your eyes are misted over because he'd committed a faux-pas he isn't aware of.
There are times when Death wonders if you must think him quite dense. Such as now, for example. Short of throwing your hands above your head, you positively erupt in exasperation as you exclaim, "Wh-! Of course I do! This is the kindest thing anyone's done for me in my life!"
"Kinder than saving said life?" he quips, "Repeatedly?"
You only shoot him a wide, watery grin in response. Tossing the parchment over your shoulder, you hurry to slip the silver chain around your neck, clutching the flask delicately in a palm and thumbing the glass with fond, gentle strokes.
"I'm never taking this off," you murmur around a beaming smile.
Grunting, the Horseman folds his arms across his chest and replies, "See that you don't. With how attractive you are to trouble and disaster, this is the most efficient way to ensure you are kept relatively safe when I... when one of us isn't around to keep an eye on you." Pausing, he quirks a thoughtful brow behind his mask and adds, "Well... I suppose I could always enlist Nathaniel to play human-sitter..."
Your bright, incredulous peal of laughter cuts him off, but before he can lament on how much different he is now for allowing himself to be interrupted by a human and feel no malice, you suddenly plant a hand on his chest, spreading warmth from the tips of your fingers straight through to the hollow cavity that used to house his heart.
Death's mask tips down, his golden eyes calm, but curious as they fold into yours, old and new, sharing a moment of vulnerability on the steps of your home.
"Thank you, Death," you tell him sincerely, but oh so softly, "I mean it. Thank you."
And then, as if the thanks alone isn't quite enough to break a chip off his unassailable walls, you rise onto the toes of your shoes, reaching a hand up to hook a finger beneath the chin of his mask and drawing his head down inch by inch. Death, taken wildly aback by the boldness of laying your hands on the Executioner's mask, forgets himself, and follows the tug of your will until-
A layer of solid bone may separate you from the Horseman's skin, yet he'd still swear he feels the tender press of a warm, guileless mouth against his own, just for a moment, then you withdraw almost as soon as you leaned in, releasing his chin and letting your arms flop back to your sides.
"Well," you say, voice a little pitched like you've caught yourself by surprise, "Again, um... Thank you..."
Slowly, Death draws back to his full height, resisting the sudden urge to press his fingertips to the space near the bottom of his mask.
"Don't suppose you've got time to come in for a cup of tea?" you blurt.
And if the Reaper's thin, pale lips twitch up at their corners unbidden... Well... There's a reason he decided to keep his mask, after all.
#This is so stupid and abrupt#I wanted to end on a funny note#Darksiders#Darksiders 2#Death x Reader#found family
200 notes
·
View notes
Text
PART 2 - Genshin Impact SAGAU / Isekai: Gifts to Give Your Allogene!
ELEMENTS HERE: Dendro, Hydro, Cryo, Geo
Part 1 / Part 2 (you're here!)
â
Sun:Â Gender Neutral Reader (they/them only)
Planet:Â General SAGAU / Isekai Stuff, Platonic Cuteness
Orbit:Â Headcanons-ish, a couple sentences for each
Stars: a little bit of everybody as of Baizhu/Kaveh update! including rare beloveds like Aloy! (I hope I got them all⊠at least the playable ones⊠) Please understand that some characters are more âforegroundâ characters and have more screen time so I may have written some more for them because I knew them better!
Comets & Meteors:Â Content Warnings: weapons for gifts?? 16+ Older Teen Audiences Advised, light cussing
â
& Trigger Warnings: None Known.
â
Edit 1/1/24: Hey I expanded on this in my Eldritch Fanfic Post Part 2, but I just wanted to vet the old posts and say I did do a form of exoticism by including the word "Huangdi" throughout this.
I've since replaced it for better readability with "Emperor" but I didn't want to erase my mistake like it never happened. I'm genuinely sorry about this, I never had ill intentions by including it, but regadless of intentions that's the impact of my actions. I'm absolutely going to be looking out for kind of thing in the future/get a sensitivity reader/a beta read from that culture to check me.
I hope you still enjoy my writing and can understand.
Dendro Allogenes:
Tighnari = with some help again to put magic into it, you give Tighnari some head coverings you sewed together that have the power of Cryo in them! So now he can actually see what plants are out in the desert, visit Cyno, or just enter the desert to his heartâs content, which, yes, his tail started unconsciously wagging after you explained what it was. âOh! For me? Well Iâve taken to avoiding the desert if I can because of⊠wait a minute, you say it has cryo in it? What? How does that work?? You think itâll genuinely help me in the desert?? You made it???â Tighnariâs ears are all twitching with excitement, and heâs holding the covering (that matches his clothes/dark green) like itâs a new plant for study, omg he pulled out his magnifying glass and everything-
Collei = so sheâs actually a really good seamstress, and makes plushies a lot, esp for kids! but one day you found one of her first attempts, a ragged looking sort of pale pink bunny⊠her first attempt at a plushie Baron Bunny!! so you decided to mimic her design (still baron bunny but with a sort of Sumeru-like clothing on it), and sew her one! You made a whole day of it, eating together, going to the best spots to sightsee (for as long as Collei was up for it/not too tired) and then gifted her the plushie Baron Bunny! She accidentally let out a small scream that startled both of you tbh, and then snatched that shit so quick lmao, kicking her feet on the picnic blanket and everything! With your permission of course, Collei then tackled you for a hug lol, she ranted about all the little details and made you tell her several times over how you made it so she could make some more in the future too! She may or may not have talked about missing Amber and teared up⊠but then you redirected her attention to the bunny saying, itâs like a gift from Amber and you really! (you also added a function where, if you squeeze the Baron, itâll dish out some healing power and some heat! âŠCollei tackle hugged you twice for that one)
Alhaitham = what a hard person to get gifts for, heâd probably be like âthanksâ no matter what you got him đ, he means it tho, it would just be underwhelming⊠but on the bright side, he definitely seems like heâd show a deeper appreciation for handmade gifts! Since you learned how to make one for Yoimiya, you decide this calls for another handmade hammock (also bc Teyvat doesnt have hammocks)! You painted symbols like green crystals and geometric patterns, but also lions and a golden Palace of Alcazarzaray for Kaveh, and your symbol, the eight point star (like the four point but with flare/not like the jewish symbol with equal points lol)!! So that way he can keep lazing away, and avoid people more comfortably lmao, and also if he is going to do that, he doesnt have to sit on rocks or hard structures for hours reading, and you hope itâs encouragement for him to spend time outside/take a break and nap! (Haitham knows thatâs part of why you gave him this, even if you didnât say it, and so he makes a point to do that more often to make you happy, take the advice for his health) oh look, after thoroughly looking at your craftsmanship for 10 minutes, you got a smile in addition to a âthanksâ, damn, thatâs actually how you know he likes it a lot <3 :)
Nahida = you remember vaguely from Nahidaâs storylines/friendship levels that she loves games, and so you collect her a nice deck for Genius Invokation TCG! You also made her a cute bag and container for it, her bag is a rose maple moth crocheted bc really this was an excuse to just make the cutest character in Sumeru look even cuter, (like this, i tried very hard ok, bc this doesnt exist yet, im shocked) The first image is most correct, (imagine the face and stuff is cuter/simpler) as thatâs also the backpack part! Her eyes were so big when you handed it to her, (you honestly were shocked they even could get any bigger lol). She jumped up and down excitedly with the backpack on (ur fucking heart, just like you intended, the wings flapped around and everything <333) you are also currently working on a luna moth (the pale green moth) in case she wants it to match her outfit more! even tho Nahida insists something handmade once is enough, you can see the childish yearning in her eyes, like a kid trying to say no to a toy thatâs being offered right in front of them lmao
Kaveh = pretty girls deserve pretty things, and you were definitely feeling the pressure to make something high quality enough for Kaveh, tho u know heâs sweet enough that heâd appreciate anything youâd take the time to handmake (and tbh.. it sounds a little arrogant, but ur hoping something so cared for by what he, or at least most people see as some kind of all-powerful god above the archons, will boost his self-esteem/confidence in his own worth more, or at least let him know one more person cares about himâŠ) so you didnt make it super detailed, and you put a note on it too to let him know your not as great at that as he would be, but you made a model of the part of the teapot house youâre going to design for him! Like a sort of sneakpeak, you made a small lookalike of Alhaitham and his house, but filled it with decor like if Howl didnt hoard all the cool shit in his room in Howlâs Moving Castle, but instead spread it out, and sort of used your modern taste for layout, (not the ugly ass corporate aesthetic) and a small garden. You also made nearly all the decor and stuff something interesting (like some primogem strings, they can be pretty small, for string lights, lampgrass from Mondstadt that heâs never seen etc.) and while you very shyly handed him the model at first, he was practically vibrating with excitement!! âYou made this?! Oh of course I donât expect perfection, it looks wonderful so far, especially if this was your first attempt!!â Kaveh has like sat down, and is delicately holding it and looking around, and when you tell him itâs an actual space, meant for him, he gently sets down the model and grabs you by the shoulders, âShow. Me. Now. âŠplease?â looking at you with very determined puppy dog eyes lol
Yaoyao = âŠidk what you expected. It was so obvious. A crocheted bunny backpack. brown, so it matches her, since her basket was brown, or you could leave off the feet, whichever u prefer, and anyway, Yaoyao is always doing things for others, so the little girl was so cute and pink when you actually gave her something instead! (once again, using ur old trick of making the person think u need something then shocking them with a handmade gift instead hehe) She IMMEDIATELY switched it out for her basket and has pretty much converted to using it full time! (tho when she needs the more solid one sheâll still wear it, she just alternates, esp if thereâs some occasion sheâll deffo wear the bunny backpack, itâs her âfancy god-made bunny backpack!â)
Baizhu = the doctor isnât one to talk about himself a lot, so you werenât sure what he would like other than some new tea⊠but you wanted to make it yourself so while you were a little disappointed it was just a basic pet gift, you wanted to maybe put a little extra into it so maybe Changsheng will use it and Baizhu will think itâs cute! You crocheted a little pet pod/cave for her to hang out in (imagine this but a Jueyun Chili hehe) and it also has a little crocheted vine rope so the little Jueyun Chili cave can be hung from things, or even tied onto Baizhuâs apron/hold it like a purse! That way Changsheng doesnât always have to drape across his shoulders/has somewhere to retreat! When you shyly showed Baizhu and Changsheng, he literally clapped, so did Qiqi lol (he usually does those tiny smiles⊠but this one was the brightest most genuine youâve ever seen, even in gameâŠ!!) You find that Baizhuâs eyes look like that type of personâs eyes were they just look like âhappyâ, like thereâs a little fond sparkle in his eye. Changsheng was all like âabout time I got something instead of him! Iâm basically an assistant too yâknow! âŠthank you very much, my Emperor.â (if youâre NOT squimish of snake pics, pls look at this cute smile Changsheng would give)
Hydro Allogenes:
Barbara = âŠso even Barbara was a little hesitant at first, but came around to the idea after some convincing, and some encouragement (and showing her she was capable of it) but you basically âŠ.may âŠ.or may not have⊠found a loop hole for her being a catalyst? So, thru a lot of persuading Barbara to train with you and Childe (who also thought it was amusing to see such a young girl whoâs literally a nun and a singer do this) you got Barbara to make water bombs! Like her circle of notes that float around her when healing, she sings and gestures and similar to her ult, (but like Childeâs E-skill it just switches between the two), the notes fly out and explode in the direction she sings/aims! You wanted to remind her of her old dream of being recognized, and wanting to help in battle in a more combat way, and besides, youâre sick of women getting regulated to the healing magical role in games/anime fantasy, so yeah. You and Childe are literally evilly giggling to each other in the background as Barbara sends quater notes and lines of music that explode (like how water can sharpen and cut things like Childeâs blades? Yeah he taught her that) so intensely that it cuts into the Pyro Lawlachurl, bringing it to its knees- Barbara accidentally cuts its head off as the finishing blow. While she gasps in a little fear, but mostly shock, Childe jumps up and down and starts cheering.
Mona = got sparkly eyes, nearly snatched the gift out of your hand, you made her some awesome earrings from the character banner wishes! All pretty ombre pink and blue they swirl and look so pretty framing Monaâs face, she only wears them on special occasions despite your claim of everyday use, they also help her figure out where the clearest view of the night sky each night but glowing brighter and brighter when she gets closer to seeing clearly, Mona is almost? weirdly envious?? for her past self that had to suffer thru all the inconvenient cloudy nights lmao
Childe = like anon said, a new pair of knit gloves, using the fur from the snow king boar! heâs amazed they never wear out now, and he totally uses them as an excuse to hold your hands all like âI just canât get over how soft they are, feel them, you did amazing comrade! even better than some Snezhnayan shops!!â, exactly what you expect heâs leaning into your face and everything- đ
Xingqiu = an ao3 account you had a hard time with Xingqiuâs, afterall, heâs from a wealthier family, so he can get mostly what he wants, and you donât wanna just get him another book⊠so you kidnapped him to Inazuma! (idk if this is canon, or happened in an event or smth I missed idfc) So, you also kidnapped Albedo for this trip, so that Xingqiu could actually see the impact his writing made overseas! While you intended for this trip to make Xingqiu feel better abt his writing, (and to help Albedo feel appreciated too, despite him not expressing much low self-esteem in his art, compliments heaped upon him def cant hurt, plus u can see him go pink too hehe) you also wanted to surprise him with a author book signing! If he was up for it, of course, which he âI absolutely, definitely, certainly am, my liege!â Kidâs practically hopping in place, as you get him all ready for his book signing (and not rlly Albedo bc heâs always fucking perfect, u dont have to do shit, even his messy hair looks nice đ) âŠyou also may or may not have given him some hair decorations (to help his asymmetrical cutting, not that it looks super bad, but for a change at least)
Yelan = âŠitâs official. You are intimidated. Itâs only pretty hydro women and Ayato from here on, on your âGift Listâ. Needless to say, like a few other allogenes, you wouldnât know shit about this woman if you didnât read her lore⊠itâs not a fine replacement, you donât think, but with (lots of almond tofu, and osmanthus wine too) dev access to help you, you created another bracelet for Yelan. Inscribed (just like the heirlooms) inside simply says âYou Are Not Aloneâ, with your eight star symbol following after (like a four star but with some flare, and also not the Jewish star lol), it glows an otherwordly gold, a contrast to the bright blues of the other bracelet. Its function is a geo shield, to protect Yelan and any teammates nearby when itâs activated, she can also leave the shielded area in one spot, so she can do her e-skill and still protect people. Youâd just casually asked her to meet up with you one day in that teahouse you know she runs for intel, and when you presented her the bracelet, she held it delicately, saying nothing as she examined it, reading the inside. A small smile tugged her lips up, and she slips it on as she sips her tea, ââŠWell, Iâll have to show this to present this one to the family shrine, I think this more than makes up for the heirloom I failed to keep. A replacement from the Guide of Teyvat themselves⊠Thank you, my Emperor, for this handwrought gift you bestow upon a mortal such as me. âŠand thank you, for not leaving me alone.â Yelan bows a little in her seat, sharp blue eyes more softened than youâve ever seen her, trained on yours. Her hands are together in that same praying motion that gives you the weirdest sense of deja vuâŠ
Kokomi = so you donât know much about her, as the it seems the character lore for Kokomi you can remember was⊠lacking, to say the least. Hoyo definitely plays favorites, BUT YOU DONâT!! At least when it comes to gift givining so everyone feels appreciated, you got a pretty book (handmade or bought) and got it/made it kinda small, like the size of the book in her idle animation, bc turns out thatâs her diary of sorts. You know the priestess feels if she expresses any opinions that her people will just take her side, or her word as⊠well, a divine priestess, the weight of her title you suppose. She also keeps track of how many spoons she has! Like what things drain her, and what things make her feel better (big social interactions vs. reading a war treaty book by herself for example) So you made her a bullet journal! (hereâs one of my favorite bullet journal youtubers, hereâs a flipthru of her completed journal) you didnât fill out the whole thing, just some example pages, to show her the possibilites! âŠyou were kinda worried bc she turned away at first after delicately accepting it, and since it was just you two, she allowed herself turn back around and start excitedly chatting your ear off as she leaned in- and wow. Kokomiâs eyes really are, dreamy, like cotton candy⊠and theyâre so much prettier when she smilesâŠ
Ayato = âŠyou know exactly what to do. Interrupting his busy schedule (and only actually taking one day out of it actually bother him so he can have the others as a secret vacation hehe) to come over to the Kamisato household and homemake some boba drinks for him, Ayaka, and Thoma to try! Mostly Ayato tho, you got all the syrups, the milks teas, the boba, and luckily, were able to get some help from Xiangling in experimenting in making⊠popping pearls! (theyâre edible boba pearls that are actually filled with juice/syrup flavors and burst on your tounge when you barely bite them! theyâve very sweet, and Inazuma definitely didnât have any different pearls other than tapioca, those squishy black pearls you see in his regular boba tea) âŠAyato is literally holding your hand like heâs about to drop to one knee, this man is down bad for boba (and you) and⊠are those tears?! Is he tearing up?! âI canât believe⊠THE Akitsu Mikami⊠blessed me, personally, with boba?? With NEW boba teas and pearls Iâve never even seen?! âŠThank you, my beloved emperor!â Mans has quite literally gotten on his knees, but bc heâs so tall, he can still comfortably hold both your hands in his bigger gloved ones âŠThoma is desperately trying to get Ayato up, Ayaka is getting onto her brother in the background.
Candace = itâs not exactly a traditional gift⊠but the reason Candace doesnât wear a lot of her jewelry or finery is because of the hard job she has as a Guardian/in the desert, so you figured giving her more things she canât even really wear wasnât the way to go.. So instead! You gather a journal or advice from Ningguang, Keqing, Yelan, Zhongli, and all the others in the Qixing who were willing to help you, and kidnapped Ganyu for a sight seeing trip! (since u and Ganyu has that whole âin between two very different worldsâ bond) You brought Ganyu because you know if anybody would be good at managing something/getting it started (like the music fest back for Lantern Rite⊠that I missed bc I dont understand how lantern rite works đđđ VIOLENTLY SOBS ITS BEEN 2 YEARS AND I HAVENT GOTTEN A SINGLE LANTERN RITE U GUYS-) it would be Ganyu herself! âŠand to also give her a break. See Aaru Village suffered from little to no economy before Candace finally negoiated with the elders to let Sumeru merchants travel into town/buy from them/sell to them, but sheâs had a rough time keeping the old coots from being dicks about it since, âŠand itâs also hard to convince the younger generations to come back after many wanted to see the outside world because of this⊠So what better what to solve two birds with one stone?? GANYU!! And all the economy and business advice you could gather form Liyue! You hope that the village flourishing (and helping Candace cut down on shady merchants) would impress the older generation, yet also get more money in the town so they can dress it up a bit more (like fixing unsteady bridges, also u kidnapped Kaveh to help revitalize their cultural architecture buildings back into life/or help make the simple buildings just prettier) Now Ganyu and her are besties (Candace rlly needed another friend besides just Dehya alone to come out and see her in the desert) and the adepti was very willing to come visit her and Aaru Village to help the economy maintain its footing/run smoothly, and Kaveh also comes and works on it/checks on her/the village! âŠWhen you initially showed all the plans to Candace, saying itâll impress the old by bringing back old designs/architecture plus interest/satisfy the younger generations to know their hometown is advancing and make it more appealing to come back to⊠The Guardian puts her shield and spear off to the side, she lowers her head, and greets you, bc u kinda just started rambling without saying hello- whoops- , âSalaam aleikum Qore, **I have already become the first Guardian to have been blessed by the gods, to receive this Vision was the only aid I could turn to in trying to help my village, my community⊠but to be blessed once more? I would never have dared to dream, let alone the Ogdoad Qore⊠I am grateful on behalf of myself, my village, and all of King Deshretâs people. âŠtruly, I did not expect a gods eyes to turn favorably upon us since my ancestorsâ time. Thank you, my Qore.â You just give her a smile back, she taught you the return phrase, so you hope itâs appropiate, âWaaleikum us salam.â :)
Nilou = This woman is consumed by dancing, other than keeping the peace (well, within reason apparently bc sheâs okay with a coup-) but youâve heard how hard it can be on dancers, how plenty of them have to have strong muscles to perform consistently. So, using adepti magic, youâve enchanted this minakari youâve painted (a type of metalwork thatâs then painted by artists, on Earth countries like Iran, India, Afghanistan, Pakistan make them) like the teapot! Itâs a small island that has a dance studio, and more importantly, a spa with hot springs, a sauna, and a room full of medical supplies dancers would need like salves, heating/cooling pads (using pyro/cryo), and space for stretches! Overall, just a place for her to get away from all the people and to heal her body up for the next performance, and after getting it all prepped/packed up with supplies, and showing it to Nilou⊠she literally had her hands over her mouth the whole walk around the rooms and showing her everything. Nilou had already been shocked youâd painted her a minakari piece, let alone all this! Like some others, she was quick to drop the formalities, and before you could even say âI hope you like it!â she was wrapping her arms around you and squeezing as tight as she could, tearing up and saying how happy she was that someone understood how hard dance can be on the body and how hard it can also be to take care of yourself, and how she canât possibly show her gratitude- wait a minute. Sheâs pulled back and gripping you by the shoulders, not even bothering to wipe her eyes, before she swears to give you a dance every year with all the culmination of her work as she learns and makes newer and better dances!! <3
Cryo Allogenes:
Kaeya =Â horses so heâs actually a calvary captain- you actually wanted something thatâd emphasize the handmade part of the gift, to really let Kaeya know somebody out there really cares about him, cares about him in the way that theyâll sit down and think of an idea and think of him, and then work for hours, sewing, drawing, crafting something just for him, to happy about. You make him a small, pocket sized photobook, and have a picture of every person who cares about him in all the slots, and near the end, from his last birthday where you gathered everybody together to celebrate, is a photo of Jean, Klee, Albedo, Sucrose, Venti, Rosaria, Noelle, Amber, even Eula, Diona, Mika, Barbara, and Mona came! But most importantly, you got Diluc to host it at Angelâs Share, and after some convincing, got him to get in the picture, youâre slightly off center, sandwiched by Kaeya and Diluc, where Kaeya is mid-laugh at the center, having just seen Dilucâs embarrassed face. Itâs the last one in the mini album, and each photo has an even small message at the bottom, giving Kaeya a message from everybody, just for him. At the very end, with the group photo just before, is one of yourself and him posing together, you having taken him out roaming Mondstadt for the perfect picnic spot, just to give an excuse why you wanted a picture with him. And at the time, he found it a little suspicious, but was just flustered enough he let it slide. But now, opening and unfolding this tiny album, full of smiling friends and caring words, Kaeya gives a small, watery chuckle, youâve left him a message too. âTake care of yourself Kaeya, because someone out there really cares about you. :) â
Rosaria = After seeing her ânunâ outfit, thereâs no doubt in your mind that Rosaria is yearning for clothes closer to her preferred aesthetic. So, using your knowledge of punk clothes and modern goth religious aesthetics, youâve made some pieces for her to try! Some black pumps with metal crosses for heels, yes theyâre sharp and this nice shawl with beads, and finally, a nice lacy skirt (no you did not make fucking lace, jesus christ, youâre not a miracle worker, despite the belief of some teyvatians-). All of which, wow, got Rosaria to give you an honest to godâŠÂ smile. A full, genuine smile from Rosaria⊠yeah that made all your hard work worth it.
Eula = a book on common manners so Eula is actually great at cooking! So what better chaos to gift to her other than introducing her to Xiangling! Especially since youâve given the young Liyuean cook recipes from your own world for her to try out, sheâs been on a rampage of new things, and so what better new experience than a cook from an entirely different country? You also made a small book of recipes (look up how to make a zine book on youtube itâs actually kinda easy) from your world, different from Xianglingâs because you thought Eula would like different recipes than her. âŠSo needless to say you were then being berated by two chefs for not sharing all the recipes lmao, tho that really just gave them reason to share recipes! Also any new spinoffs Xianglingâs already made from the initial ones you gave her, and now Eula not only graciously thanks you for the recipes, but also her new pen pal! :)
Diona = So, to prep for this gift, you forced converted the Catâs Tail to a non-alcoholic cat cafe during the daytime, and only in the evenings do they start serving alcohol/cats put up. You also got onto Margaret for hiring a child to make alcohol, so instead have Diona work better hours, and only during the cafe time, so sheâs not making alcoholic drinks either. (you also checked in on child labor laws in Mondstadt, and ran some paperwork by Jean just in case) But most importantly, you teach Diona all kinds of new drink recipes to make, like Shirley Temples, smoothies, etc. You even (once again, by getting help from Xiangling and Diluc) made a drink for hangovers, but more importantly, helped her make one called âSober Upâ which magically flushes out the alcohol out of someoneâs body, so Diona can finally sneak people a drink that (while still cursed to be well-made since Diona made it) is a trip to drink lol, itâs like a blast of carbonation/electricity to the system and will typically make most people very nauseous (but since magicâs doing it, they dont need to throw up, theyâre just sick feeling for an hour depending on how much they drank). Diona nearly cried after she saw the effect on hungover customers, and immediately started sneaking them into her fatherâs drinks, so now heâs leaning more toward sobriety most days, and after finding out what Diona did, started to talk to his daughter more. The next time you see her, and ask after her father, she just wraps her little arms around your waist, the highest she can reach, you hug her back.
Chongyun = for prep for this gift, you painstakingly, slowly convince Chongyun to accept more and more moments of warmth, like trying some spicy food thatâs gone cold, but just away from people so he can be silly out in the Liyuean mountains instead, and to try and use exposure therapy to try and get him used to yin energy/warm/excitable things, rather than the inefficient method of just avoiding it all (as it doesnât always work/deprives him of so many nice things!! >:[ ). So that way! You can finally! Take him to have fun!!! You haul him (and Xingqiu bc the more the merrier) to go swimming in Luhua Pools, go jumping off all the peaks from one to another paragliding, using cryo to surf down waterfalls, and most importantly, go to a hot springs at the end of the day! Chongyun was worried about them being too hot and activating his yang energy, but you all agreed he had been training to get used to it, so now he when he goes to try it, he just relaxes into the heat. He could feel the tug to get out and run in circles and get excited, but finally, Chongyun could just choose to sit and relax into the warmth with friends instead :)
Ganyu = if I had a nickel for every woman In teyvat who just needs a break Iâd be fucking rich âŠObviously, a day off. But an ACTUAL day off, with work regulated to others, and unless thereâs an Osial level incident 2.0 (fuck his wife, you put Shenhe on duty to protect Liyue just in case) NO ONE. IS. TO. DISTURB. GANYUâS. FIRST. VACATION. IN. DECADES. You get her to show you the prettiest viewing spots in Liyue, and as you go, tell stories from your life on Earth, showing her pictures on your phone (from both the internet and ur photos), to show her how mortal you are on one hand, but then how different you are here, upgrading her weapons and artifacts, and most importantly, her gift, a Teyvat modified cellphone! Albedo and you had been working together for months to try and make something close enough to connect ur two worlds, while introducing him to adeptal magic and other powerful objects like primogems and wishes that you have to help power it, that way the only other person who might understand immediately how it feels to be (literally lol) caught between two worlds can always rely on each other! âŠGanyu cried. Yep, tears down her cheeks and everything, ââŠI- I- donât even- even know what to say? All this, telling me about your mortal world, helping me get stronger, and now- now this? I may not have much to give in return, other than my company and my bow⊠but should you ever need me, or even wish for me, I will hold you as steady as I hold together Liyue itself, my Emperor." Ganyuâs smile is so, so, so pretty, and all the prettier now that her soft blue hair and sweet eyes are framed by the sunset, like itâs her own gift back to you.
Qiqi = A backpack for herbs! Youâve made sure to stitch her name into it so in case she forgets itâs hers, sheâll just see her name again, and lots of little pockets so she can carry all the herbs/make deliveries, it looks a little like this but with a goat instead of cow, and some cocouts lmao, literally a âcoco-goatâ milk backpack! She is now the cutest person in Liyue, everyone agrees, nearly every single person who comes into Bubu Pharmacy gives Qiqi a compliment now, and Baizhu will periodically take a break just so he and Changsheng can coo at her lmao (Qiqi made sure she wrote down in her notebook in big letters next to your name âThis person made my cocogoat backpack, remember to thank them during prayer times, and collect lots of fresh herbs for themâ)
Shenhe = Itâs kind of a lot, but really, at this point, youâve done more for some of the others so this probably isnât even scratching the surface of how big of a gift you can give, so why not. Going full steam ahead, you furnish her a house at the edge of town, so that sheâs not overwhelmed by all the human traffic/people, but still close enough to make the friends she wants! When you first show her the dining/living room so plenty of guests can come over, and begin to tour her through it, the strongest woman youâve probably ever known gently holds your shoulders and stops you from speaking, and turns you to face her, Shenheâs eyes are sharp with observation as they roam your face, and then settle on your own wide eyes. Her eyes soften, and a small smile warms her usual stern face, (idc how tall you are, sheâs taller, I fucking promise) as she leans down a little to look at you closely in the eyes, âThank you for being a kind god. You did not have to be so generous to me, and yet here you are. If you ever feel like youâre an outsider in Teyvat, in any country or company you find yourself in, please, promise me youâll come here. Come home to me?â âšđâš
Ayaka = You manage to get her away from her duties to take her out to Sumeru! Mostly so you can introduce her to Nilou, see her performance, and the flourishing arts that now fill Sumeru Cityâs streets, and more importantly, a dress you made so she could dance with Nilou + dance on stage, she wasnât confident enough/didnât want to dance for a crowd, so itâs just you three or just you two after awhile. Ayaka looks the happiest sheâs been in awhile, more so than you ever saw in game, and itâs⊠almost like a breath of fresh air to see her away from what you felt was such an isolating environment, even after the Vision Hunt Decree was over. For her last dance, Ayaka does so alone, a little after the sun has set, so itâs all blue, and the stars are coming out, finally, you get to see an even better version of the dance she gave the traveler that night. She only opens her eyes at the end, to give you the giddiest smile youâve ever seen on her, cheeks cute and plumped up bc sheâs smiling so hard, and bows to you (Ayakaâs thanked you a million times, but she doesnât need to, you can feel how happy she is just from this)
Mika = THE BOY!! One of the most boys to ever boy in all of Teyvat!! Your boy!!! :D What a boy, he nearly fainted when you handed over his gift one day, and you had to reach out and steady him, then hand him it again đ Itâs similar to the Marauderâs Map, since you enchanted it (once again, whatâs the point of dev access if I canât make gifts for my skrunklies?) and since you donât want it to end up in bad hands/get spyed on, it only shows itself with a phrase as well âI wish upon a golden star, to know this land as well as its player.â and itâll show him everyone in public spaces in Mondstadt, not private homes, but like the plaza, the church, the Knights of Favonius, etc. He thanks you every single time he sees you for the map, as itâs both fascinating to him to have a proper well-drawn map of the city of Mondstadt (you copied it from the Teyvat in game map, but there were some buildings missing bc theyâre more real here/more fleshed out as a irl city) but that just made Mika even happier bc he can go and map them out!! Literally canât talk to you bc all heâs saying is âT-TH-TH-THANK-THANK YOU ALL FURST-!!!â before running away most of the time lol
Layla = An embroidered tiny pillow for her to easily clip onto her bag/fit in it, and take on the go with her! (this but the text just says âSweet Dreams Layla âĄâ ) that youâve also added scent to, including some sleep inducing magics, so sheâs guarenteed to sleep well and efficiently when she uses it! She blushed so hard you thought she was sick at first when you gave it to her, and she also used the pillow as a shield to hide her face as she thanked you lmao, and she made you a pillow in return! âŠeven if she thinks itâs not as good as yours, both craft wise and function, Layla worked for weeks on it! âŠlol now ur the one hiding ur face behind a pillow (this but theyâre all plants of sumeru)
Aloy = âŠif you had a nickel for every person youâve provided with a house, youâd have two nickels. Which isnât a lot, but itâs weird it happened twice⊠Poor damn heroine just got dragged from one world to the next, just as the last one finally was at peace, now sheâs here in Teyvat, where nothingâs familiar, the entire world is set up different, people are nicer and more open here, and thereâs still threats looming on its horizon. Needless to say, she is tired, and misses her own homeworld. You really wish on her behalf that Hoyo hadnât done a crossover, but since sheâs here, you figure you might as well make it easier on her. Youâve made another teapot-like adeptal magic container, so she can have a place all to herself, and given her a ticket to your own, afterall, if anybody knows whatâs its like to get yanked to another world, specifically Teyvat, itâd be the travelers and yourself, and sure enough as time goes one, Aloy becomes closer with you all, and begins to finally feel a sense of familiarity, she wraps an arm around your shoulders the first time she saw you tried to make her own personal teapot place emulate her homeworld. The widest grin youâve seen on her face, she gives you a squeeze, âItâs just been one adventure after the next, and when we started out, you were just another stranger in a world I didn't understand. But after everything we've been through, I can say this for certain: My bow is yours, now and always. Thank you for the second home, my king.â Aloy says teasingly, laughing at the face you make.
Geo Allogenes:
Noelle = goddamn when will the busy women trend END these poor souls Motherfucker, youâre gift to Noelle was to knight the damn girl yourself. No, but you nearly talked Jeanâs ear off for an hour, after gathering evidence (both from eyewitnesses, and Noelle herself, including other knights and Jean herself) about why the literal fuck Noelle wasnât a Knight of Favonius yet, and why she should be. After genuinely shaking Jeanâs nerves a little, she agreed, and finally, Noelle was going to knighted along with any other potential recruits during the testing season, (as people with high reputations, which, once again, using your god status for all its worth, could recommend new recruits) but most importantly⊠You gave her a 5-star claymore, which, you do have to somewhat work on yourself physically in teyvat now, but your dev access lets you cheat a little (like the cooking meter on cooking dishes, youâre the goddamn cooking god when hosting guests hehe) so you also are allowed to edit it, like adding a Geo-bonus to the weapon itself! When the ceremony for knighthood was going, and pretty much all of Mondstadt came to finally see Noelle get knighted, you made a fun show of walking out where you were hiding and replacing Jean, to knight Noelle yourself. Sheâs gone completely red in the face, and is starting to sway a little in her down on one knee position, as you gently place the blade on both shoulders, and grin at her as you turn and pull out the claymore for her. She actually does end up falling over, pale as a ghost, whoops-
Albedo = internet access so he can become a fucking god basically the alchemist is a hard guy to make a gift for, another person youâre a little afraid high-quality handmade gifts would impress him more⊠so you worked hard, and eventually you managed to make three big notebooks for Albedo, one with lined paper, one bulleted, and one blank for sketches (you did the title page a decent sketch of his pretty face smiling and âFor Albedoâ underneath, and while that one had a picture, the other two had just the words) and you also loaned him your cellphone for awhile, and suggested the idea of a laptop to make for himself, as he already managed to get you connected to Earthâs internet again, thatâs part of the reason you customized/made him notebooks, so he could research from the internet and write down any notes he wanted! âŠwow. you really did it. after explained all this, and leaving him notes about the laptop idea as loose paper stuck inside one of them, you managed⊠to get Albedo toâŠÂ smile. At you. Like a FULL smile, pretty lips, wide smile, and flushed cheeks-!! Albedo caught the notebooks you almost dropped.
Ningguang = what do you get the woman that has everything? so you started to think of things thatâd make an experience, and after remembering her lore about her making a chess game, you decided a board game would be good! And if you make the little pieces, itâd be one of a kind too! (sheâs the type that really loves handmade gifts/as long as you put effort in it doesnt matter how âbadâ it looks to her, sheâll believe itâs still good <3) âŠSo you made a Teyvat version of Monopoly. You figured the business part would be in her realm of expertise, and maybe she could use it to play with business associates or friends, and of course, sheâs a competitive woman, so she thinks itâs great, and even asked permission that a marketable version be made (one thatâs not nearly as nice quality as hers from you obviously)! Ningguang also treated you very well as a thank you for making it for her, a nice dinner at Liuli Pavilion, with a useful gift of places you havenât seen in Teyvat yet bc itâs more expansive now that youâre physically here!! You may have gotten over-excited about it⊠and she may have chuckled at you⊠and you may have gotten flustered after she rested her pretty hand on yours for nearly half the dinner as you stuttered thru and explanation of the gameâŠ
Zhongli = âŠwhat do you get the man that has everything (ningguang problem 2.0)?? Well, since you thought of something for her that was an experience a little bit, yet also one of a kind, you figured the same path for the previous God of Wealth/literally invented money/etc. would do, plus heâd the type to deeply appreciate handmade gifts too! Using a few chunks of Light Realm Core, 3 Masterless Starglitter, 1 Intertwined Fate, and 1 Condensed Resin, to make a nigh indestructible Ginko leaf hair pin, which also to replace his last pin, which while not broken, was getting old and beat up (heâs immortal he doesnâ notice these things unless theyâre like magically long lasting items lol). But in a few spots are these peach beads like this instead of all white beads, like on the ring both have symbols of longevity, and are usally associated with immortals, you wanted to make something thatâd also hold memories (hence the resin, from leylines) so if the erosion ever took him, Zhongli could hold the pin and see some of his favorite memories played back (like misty glittering gold projections)! When you told him all this, the materials, (he obv knew the symbols) and the intentions, and then handed him the gift, his soft smile got bigger and bigger, until you could see him small fangs (â€ïžâđ„) and then he turned around? You were confused, until he look over his shoulder, his eyes flashing gold in the sunlight, âWill you do me the honor, my Emperor?â OH- you unclip his old geo cor lapis one, and pull his hair up into more of a low bun, and put the hair piece in. the golden ginko leaves chime softly in the breeze. The old god turns back to you (idc how tall you are, heâs taller, and he had to crouch a little so you could reach lol) and gives you that blinding, beautiful smile again, the kind that makes his eyes look warm and happy. He takes your hand delicately, like youâre made of something fragile instead of stars and magic stronger than any heâs ever seen, âTruly, you bless me too generously, my Emperor. Thank you, for caring for a forgotten god like me, for caring about my heart.â âŠZhongli presses a soft chaste kiss to your knuckles, right on the middle fingerâs knuckle, his lips are warm and so, so soft, like theyâre barely even there. <3
Yunjin = a bit difficult because sheâs so theater focused in life, but you figure since she does solo shows a lot, sheâll still be the one to benefit the most from your gift, you made some floating plaustrite lanterns to help heft some platforms for more stage space/cool effects! (this but a little more detail, you painted some bamboo and a few simple adepti on them) Like putting props up there or lights to aim on actors, or even actors themselves since the floating rock is steady enough! Yunjin practically squealed (which immediately made every actor in the vicintity be like âYUNJIN!! UR VOICE WILL GO HOARSE STOP-â) and gather the whole troupe to thank you! But she especially told you that although she already intended for you to have front row seats every time you came to see her plays, she especially wanted to get some stories from your life, or even just your favorites from Earth for her to perform for you!! (she even suggested that one of the platforms could be your special seat, like an opera box seat lol)
Itto = you know that belt buckle he wears thatâs just an Oni head? Yeah, you made him a second belt but with a onikabuto beetle as the buckle instead! (kinda like this) but a small enough itâs not inconvenient and poking his stomach, which you definitely got a Inazuman blacksmith to help out, you mostly painted it, and when you show Itto the belt, mans literally just wraps his buff arms around you like a hug but then just starts spinning you rapidly, and lets out the highest pitch âEEEEEEEEEEE-!!!â youâve ever heard him make (and youâve given him a few trinkets before, so this is a new record wow). No, it doesnât matter to Itto how much you weigh, have you seen his abs?! He says as heâs still got you a little off the ground, and is now walking away with your limp body and wearing his new belt, âThis, and a proper meal to thank you are the bare minimum, my wonderful emperor! Come on, the gangâs already there anyway, you gotta try my Granny Oniâs food, and Iâll make something too! My best, most special, sandwich, Way of the Strong!! Yâknow, because if anybody deserves it, itâd be the strongest, and sweetest, you!!â
Gorou = since teyvat isnât exactly the pinnacle of advanced civilization, though there are some advancements sure like the Kamera, there are still a fair amount of things thatâre just left up to locals to produce and make using whatever process theyâve got, regardless of efficiency, and one of those is soap. Yep, soap. Earth is more advanced when it comes to beauty products, but also hygiene products, and Gorou has a hard time maintaining his tail heâs said when heâs stressed/overworked. So, you used some knowledge from your interdimensional smartphone (love u Albedo) to find a homemade recipe to make soap! (âŠfor dogs, but you donât know if heâd find it offensive⊠so you donât tell him LMAO) and you even made it a cute shape (just so when you handed it over, heâd open it and of course, go all red all the way down his neck even, hehe, (he secretly liked it)
You towards all of Teyvat, except it's not even their birthdays (idk if u want it to be it can)
â
PLEASE LET KNOW IF ANY LINKS/PICS ARE INACCURATE FOR A CULTURE/MISLABELED ETC.
Me after writing all this:  _ă(ÂŽàœ`ă â )__
⊠so I may have hyperfixated a little too hard on this one.
Did the OG asker want this? âŠprobably notâŠ
Did anyone ask for this?? âŠno.
âŠdid I do it anywayâŠ.âŠyes.
âŠsorry?
(I promise I only thought to do this because there are so many characters left out in favor of the more popular ones for most SAGAU posts, and bc i never want any of my babes to feel any less loved than any others if I was actually there in Teyvat⊠you get⊠this mess.)
sorry!
â
Safe Travels,
đâ
âMY BELOVEDSâ
@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche
#wow#im so sorry#i just wanted the lesser written abt characters to be here#did i hyperfixate bc i like giving thoughtful gifts and i love my allogenes#maybe#debatable#perhaps#YOU CANT JUDGE ME I DID THIS FOR YOU#genshin impact#genshin sagau#sagau#anon if ur out there im so sorry#genshin isekai#genshin imagines#gender neutral reader#genshin impact reverse harem#genshin impact sagau#genshin x reader#genshin fluff#genshin platonic#genshin poly
737 notes
·
View notes
Text
haven't i given enough?
â Sam Kerr x reader
based off another fic I wrote, hope it's ok!! masterlist
there will be a part two, let me know what you think :)
When Sam and Y/N met, everything had just fallen into place. Y/N was interning at the local hospital when the Matilda's had come for a charity event, cheering up sick kids on the ward. Y/N had never been much into sports, instead choosing to lock herself in her room on Sunday mornings when her sister would train. In fact, she had no real intention of even interacting with the team. For all she knew, they were a bother - cluttering the halls and blocking the entry ways.
That was until she slammed right into one of them.
Her pager was quiet for the first time that shift, and she had taken the opportunity to go get coffee from the break room. The pathology results in her hands were suddenly scattered on the ground as she was forced several steps back. She had just cursed, not even bothering to look at her now enemy as she crouched down to pick them up.
"Shit! I'm so so sorry," the voice came, "I'll get it for you."
Her hands were joined by two more that anxiously fumbled around on the vinyl tiles, attempting to pick up the A4 sheets that would just fall from her fingers and slip back out.
"No no, it's fine." Y/N fired back. She wanted to add a sly you've already done enough, but at least her mystery attacker had tried to help. That was more than she could say for others.
"Quite some force you've got there." Y/N followed with. She was too embarrassed to life her gaze from the ground and instead focused on the blue nikes in front of her, now reordering the papers and securing them into her clipboard.
"Yeah, comes with the job I guess"
Huh?
Y/N looked up and was met with an apologetic set of eyes and a warm smile. She took her outstretched hand, allowing herself to be pulled up.
"I'm sorry. I'm Sam... I'm Sam and I'm sorry." She was tripping over her words awkwardly, a blush beginning to paint her cheeks. Y/N had laughed, looking down to realise her hand was still in hers.
"Can I buy you a coffee?"
"So, when can I meet your family?"
You looked over to the couch where Sam was resting with her phone, the sun painting a warm glow over her body - she looked beautiful. The question had caught you off guard, Sam could tell. The way your body tensed and nervously chewed on your lip. Your relationship with your family was... complicated.. In the nine months you'd been dating, there was never any mention of your relatives despite your meeting hers.
Your older sister Ami was everything you weren't. She was sporty and athletic, witty and carefree. She exuded an air of confidence that you could never quite match no matter how hard you tried - but that you could handle. It was the taking.
At 14 you stood anxiously by the lockers as you admired Cara Stevens from afar. She was so dreamy, blonde curls framing her freckled face. She had all the important qualities you needed as a 14 year old: she was pretty, a year above AND she had the nicest stationary in her grade. You couldn't believe when she walked over to you of all people, leaning against the door of your locker. Your heart was racing, almost beating out of your chest as you met her eye.
"Hey there, you're Y/N... right?" she had asked. She smelled of fresh mint and you swear she could combust right then and there. "I was just wondering if you could give me your sister's number? No harm in trying, right?"
All feeling had left your body as you absentmindedly scribbled down her mobile number, saying nothing as you watched Cara walk over to her friends and hold up the number like it was a trophy.
You cried in the bathrooms that day.
At 19, you met Grace Li. She was your first proper girlfriend, as you swore off dating in high school to focus on getting into medicine. Grace was studying radiology and you bonded over your mutual love of the sciences, regularly making dates out of shared lectures and labs. Grace clicked instantly with your family, always coming over and helping out when she could. You didn't think much of how she would always sit next to your sister and chat when she had the chance (even if the seat next to you was free.) You thought her inviting out your sister when you went clubbing with friends was just her trying to make a good impression.
You realised you were wrong when you walked in on them with their tongues down their throats in the bathroom.
Your sister had only offered a half-hearted apology that morning. "It's not my fault, Y/N. She came on to me and we were both super drunk. You guys weren't even that serious, right?"
It irked you that it seemed she hadn't even wanted a relationship with Grace, only to win her over and have her claim. But they were only human, right? You spent that weekend in bed crying not only from sadness, but the all-consuming guilt from momentarily hating your sister. You felt so awful.
You never saw Grace again.
At 23, you begged your mum and dad to drive you to the hospital for your first day as an intern. All throughout your childhood, they would take your first day of school off work to drop you off. You'd get breakfast before and play Strawberry Kisses on the radio, singing in the back of the car and kicking your dad's seat to annoy him. You had worked your ass off to get here and wanted nothing more to relive a favourite childhood memory on what would be the most exciting day of your life.
As you left your room to meet in the kitchen of the family home, you were greeted by the obnoxiously yellow note on the fridge.
"Sorry love, Ami was subbed in for a big game! Maybe tomorrow? x"
Your emotions had bubbled up to the surface as you ripped the note from the fridge. It crumpled in your hand as you stood there, tears falling down your cheeks. You had wiped them away pathetically, sniffling as you grabbed your lunch and stuffed it in your bag. The drive to work was silent. There was no Strawberry Kisses, no breakfast and kiss on the cheek. There was no photo of you in your scrubs outside the hospital, mimicking the cheesy grin you made in your kindy photo.
They never made up for it.
So yes, the relationship with your family was strained. There was no awareness on their part; instead, they would pass comments at the table about how you were oh so distant. They would tease about Ami "stealing" Grace as you sat eating, feeling like a little girl all over again. You loved your family, but they had the ability to reduce you to nothing in seconds without even realising it. The worst part was could never quite bring yourself to criticise it, always too guilty to think even a bad word.
You had wanted so desperately to keep Sam a secret, but she was getting impatient. You texted your mother that evening, asking if she was free for dinner and made plans for the following Saturday. Sam held you in that arms as you slept that night, but you couldn't quite rid yourself of that sinking feeling in your stomach.
When you arrived at dinner that night, you noticed the way your sister left the spare chair next to her and insisted you sat next to your father. Sam had looked almost uncomfortable at first, but next you knew she was having an animated conversation with Ami about football. The sinking feeling returned.
As you laid in bed that night, you traced Sam's face. She was exhausted - having fallen asleep as her head hit the pillow. Your fingers danced delicately across her cupid's bow, running down her jawline and coming to rest just above her heart.
The tender moment was interrupted by the buzz of her phone. She was too far gone to even notice and the screen eventually turned back off, returning the room to darkness. Until it buzzed again. And again.
Frustrated, you grabbed it to put it on silent. Thats when you noticed.
"Heya, it's Ami. Lovely meeting Y/N's better half tonight :) Send me that link we spoke about? x"
Oh.
#sam kerr x reader#sam kerr fanfic#sam kerr fanfiction#woso x reader#matildas x reader#fanfiction#woso oneshot#sam kerr imagines#sam kerr imagine#matildas imagine#woso imagines#woso fanfics
427 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Other Side
Part 1 - Word Count 2463
Crouched on her tree branch overlook, Y/N watched curiously as the group of five approached the cliff's edge. She was intrigued by these strangers, the first new people she had encountered since witnessing the ship crash.
The boy with long hair moved to grab the rope swing first but was interrupted by another wearing steampunk-looking goggles.
After a brief exchange, the long-haired boy moved back, now standing next to a pretty blonde girl. The four of them exchanged weary glances, silently communicating after they switched places.
The goggled boy backed up several paces, then sprinted forward with a leap, launching himself from the cliff. He swung out in a wide arc, whooping excitedly. At the apex of the swing, he released the rope and landed gracefully on the far ledge.
The group stood in silence watching before they erupted in shouts at the Mount Weather sign. She sat for a moment watching the pure joy of these strangers, hesitating, debating whether to reveal herself. Her curiosity was piqued, but she knew little of their motives or intentions.
The commander sent her down here to gather information with Lincoln, both splitting up as he stayed by their camp, performing a headcount.
Y/N was impressed by his bold daring. She studied the other four strangers, wondering about their origins. They appeared around her age, and wore weird clothing, the material all cobbled together. Perhaps they had banded together after some other disaster or tragedy.
Lexa wouldnât like any of this, dread filled y/n and she reminded herself that they werenât going to live long after she traveled back to the capital.
Lexa was stuck in the old ways, never straying from harsh and outdated rules placed by their grounder society. Not that Lexa could change anything, if she allowed these invaders to live, her people would see her as weak, and she couldnât have that.
Y/N couldn't help but smile as she observed the scene from her hidden vantage point among the trees despite her thoughts.
In that fleeting moment, with their guard down, she saw only vibrant youth, not strangers to fear. She remained hidden for now, but hoped someday their paths might properly cross if fate worked in their favor.
But their happiness was short-lived, shattered by the sudden violence that erupted as a spear was hurled at the unsuspecting boy. His friends' screams pierced the air, echoing with terror. She quickly sprang into action, leaping down from the tree with a soft thump.
Her horse, sensing the distress, whinnied softly as she approached, offering a comforting presence in the midst of chaos. With a swift pat on his flank, both of them set off back to civilization.
With a final glance back at the scene unfolding behind her, Y/N urged her horse forward, their hooves pounding against the forest floor as they disappeared into the safety of the woods, leaving the invaders and their violence behind.
âŠ
âLincoln?â y/n called out, searching the brush for any sign of her friend. âLincoln itâs me.â She continued, cupping her hands around her mouth.
There was no reply except for the sound of rustling leaves and the echo of his name. She sighed, weighing her options briefly before heading back to her horse, weaving through the twisted trunks and stomping over the bed of fallen leaves and twigs.
The sound of crunching filled the open space, quickly she grabbed her bow, notching an arrow before scanning the tree line again. Lincolns burly figure melted out from behind a massive oak, his face paint smeared haphazardly across his face from the sweat and heat.
âLincoln!â she breathed out gratefully, loosening her grip on the bow before stepping forward to greet him. Lincoln stood before her, his calm gaze surveying her from beneath the hooded cloak draped over his shoulders. âI was starting to think you forgot I was coming.â
The barest hint of a smile played across the grounderâs lips. "I am well-versed in the ways of these woods.
It is you who makes noise like a stampeding gorilla." y/n rolled her eyes good naturedly at his teasing. â"Well? What did you see? Anything we should be concerned about?"
Lincoln's expression turned serious once more as he relayed his findings. âI counted about 100 of them. A blonde girl sheâs their leader.â
After their discussion, Riss gave him a nod farewell. "I should get back before the Commander sends out a search party for me too." With that, she turned and headed back through the shadowy forest, leaving Lincoln to fade back into his camouflaged surroundings like a ghost.
Y/n strolled through the bustling streets of the capital, the cobblestones echoed with the rhythm of her determined steps.
Street vendors peddled their wares, their voices blending into a vibrant cacophony of commerce. The scent of sizzling street food tantalized her senses as she navigated her way through the throngs of people.
Approaching the imposing structure of the commander's building, she felt a surge of anticipation mingled with a hint of apprehension. "State your business," one of the guards demanded, his tone gruff.
She met his gaze with steely determination, her hand resting casually on the hilt of her hidden sword. "I seek an audience with the commander. It's a matter of utmost urgency."
The guards stationed at the entrance scrutinized her with suspicion until she presented the emblem of her authority.
The guard exchanged a wary glance with his companion before nodding reluctantly. "Very well, you may proceed."
With a satisfied smirk playing on her lips, she passed through the threshold and into the hallowed halls beyond, her gaze fixed on her objective: the commander's hall.
Her steps seemed to melt into the background noise of the bustling corridors, her presence almost unnoticed amidst the chatter. With purposeful strides, she approached the ornate door, its imposing frame a gateway to power and intrigue.
With a soft creak, the door swung open, and she stepped into the chamber, greeted by a gentle breeze that whispered through the open terrace door, ruffling her hair. "Commander," she greeted, her voice carrying respect.
Lexa, seated at the head of the room, smiled warmly, her gaze flickering with recognition. With a graceful gesture, she dismissed her companions, who filed out of the room one by one, leaving the two women alone to discuss matters of consequence.
"Ah, it's good to see you," she began, rising gracefully from her chair. The room seemed to hold its breath as she approached Lexa, her steps deliberate and purposeful.
"What brings you back so early?" Her voice was calm, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity.
As Y/N spoke, she couldn't help but notice the subtle tension that crept into the lines of Lexa's face. A furrow appeared between her brows, a silent question hanging in the air. Y/N pressed on, her own resolve mirrored in the unwavering gaze she held with Lexa.
"I spoke with Lincoln," she declared, her voice steady, each word carefully chosen. Lexa leaned forward, her expression a mix of anticipation and apprehension.
The silence stretched, broken only by the soft sound of Y/N's footsteps as she paced the room, the click of her boots echoing the rapid beat of her racing mind.
As she spoke of her findings, the space between them seemed to shrink, the distance bridged by shared secrets and unspoken truths. The dance of words and emotions played out in the quiet expanse of the room, a delicate balance of power and vulnerability.
Once she finished her account, Lexa rose from her seat. Y/N observed the subtle shift in her body language, noting the resolute set of her jaw and the firmness of her posture.
"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," Lexa said. "We must deal with these invaders if we are to protect our city from chaos."
âŠ
Y/N rode on horseback through the lush, green woods, the earthy scent of pine filled her nostrils, mingling with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers.
The sunlight filtered through the forest canopy above, casting a warm, golden glow upon the trail as she journeyed down familiar paths - passing by small villages nestled amongst the trees.
She couldn't help but smile as she passed by, exchanging friendly nods with the villagers who went about their daily tasks. Y/n had been away from home for some time and was eager to return.
The steady clop of hooves marked the miles melting away as the trees thinned. She spotted her modest log cabin in the distance, its weathered exterior a welcoming sight against the backdrop of the forest.
Reaching the edge of the property, y/n hopped down from her steed, her boots sinking into the soft earth beneath her feet. With a gentle pat on her horse's neck, she released him to graze freely, knowing he would find his way back to the stable when he was ready.
Y/N took a moment to close her eyes and breathe deeply, cherishing the scent of pine and wildflowers. It was good to be back. She hitched up her pack and strode towards the front door, the familiar scent of aged wood enveloped her, a comforting embrace that welcomed her home.
Setting her pack aside, she moved with purpose to the corner where her woodworking bench stood. With practiced hands, she began to carve arrows, the rhythmic scrape of the blade against wood echoing in the cozy confines of the cabin.
the moonlight filtering through the canopy above cast eerie shadows on the forest floor. The night was still. Heading out into the night to gather firewood had become a routine for Y/N, a solitary task that allowed her moments of quiet reflection amidst the whispering trees. Tonight, however, a feeling that prickled at the back of her neck as she navigated the winding path.
y/n began to gather the fallen branches, a sudden sound shattered the silence. The unmistakable sound of running feet echoed through the trees, sending a shiver down Y/N's spine. Instinctively, she dropped the firewood and reached for the dagger she always kept strapped to her side.
Moving cautiously towards the source of the noise, Y/N's senses heightened, every rustle and snap of a twig magnified in the stillness of the night.
Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she approached a clearing, the moonlight revealing a figure hunched over, gasping for breath against a gnarled tree trunk.
Drawing closer, Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as she recognized the figure of a boy, his face contorted in pain and exhaustion. His clothes were torn and dirt-streaked, his hands clutching at the rough bark for support.
"Who are you?" Y/N's voice cut through the night, a mixture of concern and caution lacing her words. The boy looked up, his eyes wide with fear and desperation, a silent plea for help etched in his gaze.
Her body subtly leaned forward, indicating her readiness to assist if needed, while her hands hovered near her sides, poised to react to any sudden movements.
The moonlight bathed them in its silvery glow, Y/N and the mysterious boy stood facing each other in the heart of the forest, the boy steadied himself, before sucking in a breath and speaking.
"I could ask you the same thing.â He replied, the boy's voice was deep and raspy, his words were slow and deliberate, as if he was rehearsing a speech.
Their gaze locked in a silent standoff, a sudden eruption of yells in the trig language pierced the stillness of the woods. Y/N huffed, a hint of sarcasm coloring her tone. "Those your friends?" she quipped, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. John shook his head. Â
Undeterred, Y/N pressed on, her voice firm yet tinged with intrigue, the trees towered above her, their branches creaking ominously in the gentle breeze.
"Who are you?" she asked, her curiosity driving her forward. The rustling leaves and distant echoes of the forest seemed to hold their breath, waiting for John's response.
After a moment of hesitation, John relented. "My name is John," he admitted. His voice was calm now, yet his eyes were a little wild. He looked like the man who had been on the verge of being killed, his head bowed in prayer.
"I can help you, John," she said, Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine as she looked into John's eyes. They were deep and piercing, like two black holes that seemed to suck her in. She couldn't look away, even though she knew she should.
John hesitated, unsure if he could trust her. But the thought of surviving in this harsh new world was too tempting to resist. "Okay," he said, his eyes darting between y/n and the area where the voices came from.
"I'll follow you." He approached her cautiously, keeping a safe distance. Y/n nodded, a look of satisfaction on her face. "Good," she said. "Letâs go."
âŠ
Y/N and Murphy made their way back to her cabin, the shadows of the forest casting long, eerie shapes on the path ahead. "I need you to help me gather resources," she said.
"Food, water, weapons. Whatever I need to keep me alive. And in return, I will keep you safe from my people." She stated, looking back at Murphy as she climbed the steps to her door.
John nodded, his heart racing but he knew he had no choice. "Yes," he said, his voice firm. "I'll do it. Whatever it takes." Y/n could tell he wasnât sure about his own agreement but kept walking anyway, opening the rusty door and entering.
Murphy hesitated at the threshold, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily, a flicker of fear betraying his tough exterior.
Y/N chuckled softly, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Come on, it's not a trap," she reassured him, her voice warm and inviting. Murphy stepped inside, the cozy interior of the cabin enveloping him in a sense of unexpected comfort.
The aroma of cooking rabbit wafted through the air, a tantalizing scent that stirred memories of simpler times with her family. Y/N moved with practiced ease around the small kitchen, spooning steaming stew into an old wooden bowl before handing it to Murphy.
He accepted the bowl gratefully, the hunger evident in the way he practically inhaled the hearty meal. Y/N watched him silently, her gaze lingering on his worn appearance and the shadows that clouded his eyes.
"What happened to you, John?" she asked, her voice soft yet probing. The question hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications.
Murphy paused, setting down the bowl with a nonchalant shrug. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you.â he replied through gritted teeth. âLet's just say I've had better days."
âŠ
#fluff#angst#masterlist#new writers on tumblr#new fic#the 100 fanfiction#octavia blake#the 100 series#bellamy blake#john murphy#john murphy x reader#jasper jordan#monty green#the 100 spoilers#the 100#the ark#commander lexa#lexa kom trikru#bellamy blake x reader#clarke griffin#lincoln kom trikru#wells jaha#nate miller#john murphy the 100#raven reyes#abby griffin#john murphy smut#john murphy fluff#the 100 rewrite#the 100 masterlist
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
a fantasy story where a wizard is given a statuette head in honor of their getting tenure. itâs more a tchotchke than anything else, but itâs a high quality tchotchke, and imported from foreign parts too, so the wizard keeps it on their desk and uses it to hold down letters when they open their window. then one day they get back from teaching a lecture and the statuette is gone. they contact the universityâs department of rectification, and the department finds a janitor who claims she saw the statuette begin to shake violently before splintering into fragments, dissolving into fine dust before the fragments had a chance to hit the desk. the wizard is skeptical. if they had a magically affected item on their own desk for months without noticing, they wouldnât deserve their own tenure. but then a curator from the universityâs gallery of artifacts enters in a panic: several of their more expensive foreign items have vanished, shaking violently before splintering into fragments and dissolving into dust. the wizardâs curiosity is piqued, and their worry is awakened. consulting both the receipt for the statuette and the galleryâs records, they find that the statuette and the first of the artifacts to vanish were made in the same workshop, and each of the other artifacts originated from a steadily expanding region of the foreign parts. this is truly odd. the wizard studies the records for any mention of a spell that might do this, coming up with nothing, although an ancient book from foreign parts does disintegrate in their very hands. by now a petition has come in from a merchant city a hundred miles away, stating that a warehouse of very expensive imported fabrics vanished overnight, leaving nothing but impossibly fine dust. the wizard checks the origin of the fabrics and is not surprised with what they find. the university has a guest lecturer from the same country as these vanishing items, a slender, sharp-mustached man with a vast store of medical knowledge and an insufficient store of patience. he brushes off the wizardâs question with offenseâhe left his home country twenty years ago, what special knowledge does he have?âbut after a pensive moment he adds that the letters from his mother have all vanished. he seems uncertain whether to shoo the wizard out or let them leave on their own, but before he can make up his mind a terrible expression crosses his face. he begins to tremble, violently. the wizard rushes to steady him, but the moment their hands meet his shoulders, his entire body bursts into meaty fragments, baptizing the wizard in gore that sloughs off in fine dust before it gets the chance to drip. as though he had never been. the wizard fights to refocus their eyes and mind; when they succeed, they see items in their deceased colleagueâs office bursting and vanishing one by oneâdensely scrawled papers, delicately constructed medical equipment, even the elegant painting of the colleagueâs mentor the brusque doctor had made with his own hands. the wizard is so old and so dignified, but they flee the room. across the campus, people are coming undone: students, faculty, staff, birds in the duck pond the wizardâs deceased colleague had loved to frequent. in the chaos, the wizard hardly bothers to ask permission to pack their staff and go wandering. they journey toward the foreign parts where this curse originated, tracking its progress in reverse as they go. items from that country are the first affected, and people from that country are next. those deeply intertwined with victims become victims themselvesânow that the wizard thinks of it, the colleagues and students who they saw vanishing had all been patients of the guest lecturer at some point or another. as they travel further and further, the cities grow emptier and emptier, the fields more barrenâif a farm was planted with imported seed at any point in the past twenty years, its crops have without exception crumbled awayâand the wizard consults every school, sage, and recluse they can find, looking for an explanation. searching for a cure
110 notes
·
View notes
Text
(Click the image for better quality)
Yipeeee that Keiki and Mayumi fanart I posted the WIP of is finally done woooo- This piece was a very experimental one that I'm kind of OK on. Maybe because I've just gone insane looking at it for so long and I'm my own worst critic lol.
Artist's Notes;
So I've once again been playing around with my rendering style, mainly because I have been wanting to improve my lighting for a while now and as I was just scrolling through Tumblr, I saw some of the official art for that one webcomic-turned-animated-TV-Show Lackadaisy and was immediately inspired. I also have seen a technique a few times in the past where the lineart and shading are merged together, so I've been meaning to try that for a little while.
I did some experimentation on this one sketch of Keiki I posted in my sketch dump and I really liked the results of it, so I carried those over to this piece.
I ended up scaling up Keiki and Mayumi from the original WIP because I felt like they were both getting lost in the composition, and I'm glad for that because I think it works a lot better. I'm not a fan of how Mayumi's sword turned out at all, but it's not really meant to be the focus of the piece so eh. Overall, I think I could do better with my colours, probably because with Keiki and Mayumi's colours, I did them flat in greyscale and then used a brush on the overlay blend mode to colour all of them over, after which I changed the base layer for their colours from white to yellow and then lowered the opacity so it all went together better. I also decided to use gradient maps for a lot of the background elements, mainly to experiment with getting in my values first to make them pop out more. I ended up finding a really nice sky gradient on Clip Studio Paint that I really liked, and that kinda helped to establish the colour scheme of the background a lot. I think the whole "start in greyscale then colour" thing really works better with painterly styles rather than more illustrative ones, and while it is good at making sure your values are more readable, I honestly don't think I have the skill level to pull that off yet. Honestly, I think I've been looking at this drawing too long or maybe I added too much to it, but I wish I could've made the colours less monochromatic, but I'll just save that for the next piece I do.
I do love how the flame (...well it's more of a weird space rift than anything in this piece) and the lighting turned out, those were fun to do. I was initially struggling with the flame and how Mayumi is positioned in front of it before realizing "Oh wait! This is a weird abstraction of a weird creature! I don't have to follow the laws of anatomy!" and just dislocated it's flamey bottom jaw from the main body. I also changed the colours of it since I was really not liking how incredibly bright it was when it had lighter colours. Again, the gradient maps served the more painterly style of the flames well.
I also love how Mayumi turned out. I could do her sleeves better but that's more of just me needing to study how those types of sleeves fold in that position more. I'm also very happy with the posing, the technique I used for that was taking photos of myself in the positions I wanted, blocking in the silhouette and then modifying that by adjusting it to my lines of action that I drew on top of the original photos, and then sketching over the silhouettes and drawing in the shapes of the hands overtop of the photo if I needed to get the fine details right. As for what I do to take the pictures myself, I use a tall chair I have, prop up my phone with a phone stand, put on a ten second timer and scramble to get in position. Yes, I did have to use a bunch of thin markers I had to try and get the hand positioning on Keiki's pose right, yes I do have a fake sword that I used to get the positioning of Mayumi's arms and hand right, the sword was for an old Halloween costume from several years ago. I really like how both Keiki and Mayumi turned out in this drawing, I'll have to play around with these designs for them more in future drawings.
Also, if you wanna know why I draw buildings like that, when I watched Fantasia 2000 as a kid (One of the Disney movies where they make really beautiful animations to classical music) the way they drew the buildings in the first few sections Rhapsody in Blue segment (the jazz one with the cities) changed my brain chemistry and now whenever I need to draw buildings really quickly, I refer back to that. Since the buildings aren't really the main subject, I didn't put much thought into them.
As you can tell I am very tired of this piece, mainly because I made things harder for myself by overcomplicating the process compared to what I usually do, mainly with the whole "starting in grayscale then adding colour." I'd honestly just prefer having a black layer set to colour that I can just toggle on and off when I need to see the values, but it was good to experiment. And that was mainly the point of this whole drawing, to experiment. I'm definitely going to have to play around with this new style I'm going for, mainly because I liked how it turned out a lot in the augmented Keiki sketch, and also because I want to find ways of making it suit my style more. I also really want to keep experimenting with my lighting like this, it's very fun. Last but not least I am never starting in greyscale again because dear god I do not like the workflow it forced me into. I don't have a problem with the method itself it's mainly just a skill issue lol.
If you wanna read my headcanons for these two, I put them in my WIP post, so you can read them there if you want to. The more I look at this the more I prefer the simplicity of my WIP. I might go back to this and just take away the fancy colours and effects to see what it looks like without all of that stuff and reblog this post with that drawing, but for now, I don't think I can look at this drawing again for a while.
#touhou project#art#fanart#touhou fanart#touhou 17#wily beast and weakest creature#keiki haniyasushin#mayumi joutougu#haniyasushin keiki
115 notes
·
View notes
Note
I was thinking here about 2 things from Chloe Guardian AU that kind of have to do with each other
1 - When Master Fu gives the position of guardian of the box to Marinette, would he also forget about Chloe?
2 - In this AU, instead of telling Alya that she is Ladybug, would she tell Chloe? If so, how would Chloe react in this situation?
Oh no, spoilers.
1. Fu will not give it to Marinette, but to Chloe. And yes, he will forget her
2. Related to the first answer it would be very difficult for Marinette to tell Chloe, so she will probably still tell Alya
In the Canon, it is Marinette's fault that Hawkmoth caught the Guardian, because she had not destransformed before looking for him.
So you can imagine THE ANGST that Chloé will have to go through when she finds out that it is bc of her crush that she was left without a family.
She is abandoned (again)
She still has the kwamis but they can't be together all the time (they have to stay hidden)
Also, in the eyes of society, Chloe is an orphan. Fu has no legal adoption papers. Chloe couldn't force an amnesiac old man to take care of, what would now be, a stranger to him.
So she lets him go with Marianne (His gf in case you don't remember)
Now the question is, who will she stay with? Chloe is still a minor, she needs an adult to take care of her.
At this point in the story, Chloe already knows that André is her biological father but she did not agree to go with him (she realized that he only wants to take advantage of her and consolidate his reputation, adding "family man" and inventing some excuse to explain why she had never been mentioned before like that she was studying abroad or some $hit like that) Besides, she already had a REAL family.
But now she's forced to accept him, she has no choice.
This makes her get super cold with Ladybug now (she doesn't know that she is Marinette)
That would add more salt to the wound, which is why Marinette doesn't tell her. Her oldest friend doing something like that?? It would hurt. A lot. She knows that she is being selfish and a coward. The one who is suffering the most is Chloe, she feels very guilty and some time goes by, but in the end she tells her.
Needless to say, Chloe feels betrayed. Her best friend... It feels like she's been stabbed in the back. She is furious and leaves before she can do anything she regrets later, Marinette tries to stop her but Chloe just screams not to touch her, without even looking her.
She walks into her... new stay (she refuses to call it home) the biggest, most luxurious room she's ever seen but also the coldest, loneliest and lifeless.
Wayzz tries to calm her down, saying that it was an accident, that Marinette didn't want to do it. Chloe just says she knows, only seeing in her hands the last thing her grandpa Fu left her.
A letter.
The letter says that he already knew that one day he would have to leave her alone, but as it is written, he did not think it would be so soon. He wrote the letter wondering if she's already done with her training or school or if she found that special someone.
It seems that the recipient of the letter was a 20-year-old Chloe or at least a Chloe who has already come of age
Fate didn't want it that way, she's 13
It takes several weeks before she has the courage to visit Fu, he looks so... happy, he's painting a picture and she approaches him. He notices her and smiles at her, they chat a little, most of them trivial.
And then Fu says "I feel like I've known you for a long time, have we met before?" Chloé opens her eyes wide for a moment but then smiles, tears threatening to come out. She says "I have the same feeling" and they don't touch the topic anymore.
When Chloe returns, she reconciles with Marinette
#THE ANGST#ask#spoilers#Guardian!Chloe AU#chloe bourgeois#chloenette#marinette dupain cheng#master fu#wayzz
81 notes
·
View notes
Text
Adam's Return. Part 1
Adam returns to the Frankenstein Manor in search of one of Victor's diaries.
......
Adam emerged from the dense undergrowth of the forest and trod the worn footpath that lead up the sloping and hilly grounds of the Frankenstein estate. It was a clear and quiet night, much like when he had last crept across these very same grounds. Pale moonlight poured over him, casting a sheen of silver on the fine leather of his coat sleeves and in the black of his hair. Despite his size he moved silently, stirring not a single petal or branch as he crossed through the bower of a well-kept garden. He felt himself something of a returning ghost. No more real than his reflection on the window pane as he grasped the crack brick and wooden frame work of the side of the house. He didnât even need to look to know where to climb, he remembered.
Her window was just there, a few feet above him. Her balcony, spilling roses and thorned vines down the side of the house. Red now instead of the white of before. Different roses, same thorns cutting his hands and reddening them. Same handprints grasping the balcony rail and pulling himself over. Booted foot, instead of bare, on familiar stone. A good coat tore instead of a shabby one. The lock on the window was different, sturdier. He smiled to himself bitterly, wondering if it was made stronger to keep him out, even a century later. As he crouched before the window he peered into the bedroom.
Vacant, likely for some time as the bedframe had no mattress and the bedcurtains were moth-eaten. The furniture was covered in sheets and a veil of heavy grey dust. Burial shrouds. He smashed the window, not caring the damage the glass it did to his hand and opened the lock from inside. After he opened the window and climbed in he took a look around.
It was the same bedframe, same curtains, even the vanity mirror and the wardrobe, sturdy oak with painted birds. Before he could stop it an uninvited thought flitted through his head Did she paint them herself? Something in his chest squeezed uncomfortably and he swallowed thickly.
Donât think of her nowâŠ
He felt a very strong need to be out of this room. This place still mourned a bride a century dead. He stooped through the doorframe, leaving a handprint on the white of the wall as he passed the threshold.
Victorâs room and study had been on the second floor. The home had been updated at some point, electric lamps rested on end tables in the hallway. Wall hooks for lanterns had been taken down. Lightbulbs and lamps replaced candelabras. It was a floor lamp he found in the modernized study. He turned the knob and set a spark along a coil in a glass bulb. Electricity worked its magic.
âLet there be light,â Adam chuckled wryly.
Unlike the bedroom the study was entirely different. Only the bookshelves and the desk remained of the original furniture. The chairs, sofa, end tables, all of them new and fashionable. This room saw a lot of use, evident in the recently cleaned fireplace, the typewriter with a half-finished page and a whiskey glass, bearing a lipstick stain, no doubt only hours old. This was a comfortable room for someone in this house. Which meant that it was highly likely if one of Victorâs diaries was here that it had been either moved or thrown out.
Still, he had to search. He began with the desk, prying it open and wincing as the lock groaned and gave way under the force of his pulling. There were papers, a pocket watch, and a photograph. This he examined for the person in it was an ancient looking man smiling and seated in a chair with three small children crowded onto his lap. The creature turned the photograph in his hands, dated 1888 âgreat grandfather Ernestâs 100thâ 30 years agoâŠ
Adam had missed the last of them by a mere three decades. It evoked an odd feeling in him, not grief but a sense of finality. The severing of a thread he didnât know heâd been carrying.
It was the click of a rifle that brought him back to himself. Slowly he rose from behind the desk to meet the eyes of a terrified looking woman.
âMy GodâŠâ she gasped, âMy GodâŠyouâre real.â
67 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey I was wondering if you'd be willing to write a Larissa weems X reader (smut with a corruption/marking kink). R is a new teacher and is very young (19-21) but is very smart and passionate about what they teach. The only issue is that due to them dedicating so much time and effort to completing their studies early it means they didn't have the typical college/highschool experience.
Larissa somehow discovers r is a virgin and makes it her life's mission to being the one who takes their virginity. Larissa starts flirting with r more which leaves r a stuttering/blushing mess. Eventually they both get what they desire and Larissa is patient letting r try both being the bottom and top. Featuring some nice cuddling afterwards where Larissa whispers to r that their hers and only hers.
Hers and Only Hers
thank you so much for the request, anon! i'm so sorry it took me so long to write this, the past weeks have been a bit busy and i wanted to do it justice. i hope the wait was worth it <;3 it also got a bit long, oops. ao3 link in title, as always.
warnings/content: nsfw/smut (oral, fingering), corruption kink, marking kink, bit of fluff and cuddling, age gap (teacher!reader is 20)
words: ~4.5k
tags for those who may be interested: @afeatherformills @sapphicsbeloved @scumppa @zephyr-is-tired
Back in school you had always been top of your class, skipping several grades before you had even made it to high school. Thanks to this, you had been able to finish college well before many of your friends had even started, and applied for an open position as the botanical sciences teacher at Nevermore Academy. Youâd assumed that being 20 years old and barely older than some of the students would be an obstacle, but apparently youâd made such a good impression on the principal, Larissa Weems, that youâd been hired on the spot.
Your first few weeks at Nevermore had been nice, for the most part. You love being in the greenhouse, working with the plants. Your coworkers are welcoming and treat you like a daughter. Even the students seem to be warming up to you nicely.
But then there is Principal Weems. The woman who somehow manages to turn you into a stuttering mess whenever you see her. A tall, statuesque woman with silvery curls, cerulean eyes, lips always painted a shade of bright red to match her manicure. A woman whose smile always reaches her eyes, making your stomach do backflips whenever itâs directed towards you, bringing a blush to your cheeks and filling your dreams at night. It seems youâve developed a bit of a crush on your boss.
~~
Larissa is just heading out of her office to meet with Mayor Walker, blazer slung over her arm and keys jingling in her hand, as she hears your voice carry into her rooms from the hallway outside. Her ears perk up in spite of herself, she has been intrigued by you from the moment she first laid eyes on you. She had been impressed with you from the first time sheâd seen your resume - such high academic qualifications at such a young age - and since having you on her staff, she had realized just how sweet, genuine and kind you were. She had to admit she was developing quite the soft spot for you.
âKeep your voice down,â she hears you hiss. âThe last thing I need is for the students to hear you, I feel like they already barely respect me as it is.â
The voice of another teacher interrupts your own. âAw come on, thatâs not true, they love you! But Jesus, you really havenât slept with anyone? Ever?â
Larissa feels an unexplained warmth in her cheeks, pressing her ear to the door as your voices drift away down the hall.
âNo, Iâm a virgin, okay!â Larissa can hear the annoyance and defeat in your voice. âI guess I was just always more focused on school than dating or anything like that.â
Your voice fades into nothingness as you and your coworker round the corner.
Larissa slumps back against the door, hands dropping to her side, instinctively crossing her legs and squeezing her thighs together for friction as a wetness pools between the apex of her legs.
You are a virgin. Of course you are. Larissa canât explain it but the thought makes her core ache with desire. A low chuckle escapes her lips. Youâre too sweet, too innocent. Suddenly a million thoughts fill her head: she imagines her lips on your neck, covering you in marks to show the world sheâs claimed you as her own. She imagines showing you what youâve been missing this whole time, taking your precious innocence, revealing to you the feeling of true ecstasy, making you writhe in pleasure beneath her.
Her lips quirk up in a smile, a plan forming in her mind. She was going to have you - and Larissa Weems always got what she wanted.
~~
Shit. You slept through your alarm that morning and if you didnât hurry, youâd be late to your first lesson of the day. You practically fly down the hallway, dodging several groups of students, and skid around a corner when you suddenly collide with something solid and fall back. You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the impact that is sure to come, but it never does. Instead, you feel a pair of strong arms slink around your waist and catch you just before you hit the ground.
Your eyes fly open in confusion and you find your face inches away from that of your boss. âPrincipal Weems,â you squeak out, âIâm so sorry!â
âPlease, darling, call me Larissa,â she whispers, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, so close that you think you can feel her lips brush against your skin. The action makes you shiver, and you know Larissa feels this because sheâs still holding you in her arms. A heat rises from your cheeks to the tips of your ears and you know youâve turned beet red.
âOh, Y/N, youâre blushing.â Larissa smiles warmly, her eyes crinkling at the outer corners. âThereâs no need to be embarrassed.â She pulls you up swiftly and youâre nearly flush against her. You have to crane your neck back to look up at her - has she always been this tall? It takes your breath away to look up at her like this.
âIâm just late to class, I overslept this morning,â you twist your fingers together nervously, afraid youâll be reprimanded by the headmistress.
âIt happens to the best of us,â Larissa cups your cheek and shoots you a wink. You are so damn cute when youâre nervous, it takes all of her self control not to shove you against the wall and take you right then and there.
Your heart skips a beat and the air around you feels like itâs thinning. âIâd b-better get going,â you manage to choke out. T-thanks for catching me, Princip- Larissa.â
You donât look back as you hurry off to the greenhouse, and itâs good that you donât or youâd have caught Larissa staring at your ass as youâd walked away.
~~
The next time you see Larissa, youâre standing in line at the Weathervane when you feel a looming presence behind you.Â
âSo, what do you usually order?â A teasing voice purrs in your ear.
You feel your cheeks redden involuntarily - your boss should not be having this effect on you.
âUm, coffee makes me a bit jittery so I usually go for hot chocolate,â you pray this doesnât make you sound lame, you know how dependent everyone seems to be on their morning coffee, but your statement seems to pull Larissaâs lips up into a genuine grin.
âThen youâre in luck, my darling, the Weathervane has some of the best hot chocolate Iâve ever had.â The pet name makes your stomach flip and you swallow thickly, unable to do anything but nod as Larissa stares at you with a fondness in her eyes that you canât quite explain, but that makes your heart ache with desire all the same.
âWhat can I get for you?â The baristaâs voice snaps you out of your trance. Before you can say a word, Larissa replies for you - âtwo large hot chocolates please, did you want yours to go?â She looks down at you and you nod numbly. You reach for your wallet but she swats your hand away, pursing her lips as she pays for your drinks.
âThank you so much, Larissa, you really didnât have to pay for me,â you gush out as the two of you wait for the barista to make your order.
Larissa waves a dismissive hand in front of her face, smirking. âPlease, darling, itâs no trouble at all, youâll find a way to pay me back.â Thereâs a suggestive glint in her eyes and the way her tongue runs over her bottom lip, eyes trailing briefly down your body makes an unfamiliar heat coil in your stomach.Â
She takes her drink in her gloved hand and gives your shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
âPerhaps we could come here together sometime.âÂ
Her hip grazes yours as she brushes past you and exits the Weathervane, crossing the street to head towards Dr. Kinbottâs office, leaving you a dizzy, blushing mess.
~~
âAlright class,â you call out as the students stuff their notebooks into their bags. âDonât forget about the exam on Monday!â
âOh come on, canât we postpone it?â Xavier huffs.Â
âItâs not fair to have an exam on a Monday anyway,â Ajax chimes in, rolling his eyes.
A ripple goes through the classroom, other students murmuring their agreement.
âCome on guys,â you plead. âIf you completed the study guide, youâll do just fine. I will not be postponing this test. Do you complain like this to all your teachers?â
A series of groans reaches your ears and one by one, your students shuffle out. Enid shoots you an apologetic glance and mouths âsorryâ, which you appreciate, and you wave her off with a tired smile.
You watch the last of your students file out the door, then turn to your open laptop to get a head start on some grading that needs to be done for next weekâs classes when an email pops up in the corner of your screen. You open it and your stomach flips.
Dear Y/N,
I hope your first weeks of classes have exceeded your expectations.Â
If you have the time, I would love to see you in my office for a chat tonight at 7.
Please, do let me know.
Larissa
Your palms begin to sweat and your mind immediately jumps to the worst case scenario. What could Principal Weems possibly want from you? Sheâd seemed friendly enough in your last interactions. Maybe even too friendly. Maybe she felt bad for you?
You hold your breath as you type out a confirmation that youâll be there, then turn back to your grading - not that you can focus on your work now.
~~
6:59pm. Youâre standing at the wood-paneled doors to Larissaâs office, holding your breath. You raise your fist and knock twice.Â
âCome in,â Larissaâs smooth voice sounds from deep within the room.
âTake a seat,â Larissa is sitting behind her desk, leaning back in her leather chair, a pensive look on her face. A fire burns in the imposing fireplace, casting a warm glow over her office.
You close the door behind you and step towards her, lowering herself into one of the plush armchairs facing her desk. Your heart is beating wildly out of your chest, youâre sure Larissa can smell how anxious you are. You rub your sweaty palms on the back of your skirt in a vain attempt to calm your nerves.
Larissa looks composed but within her, a fire burns. She can tell how tense you are and she finds it so very endearing. She watches you chew at your lip and presses her thighs together involuntarily. She wants to see how you come undone, wants to hear her own name tumble from your sweet, innocent lips. Something about watching you squirm under her gaze stokes the fire within her.
âYouâre not in trouble,â she coos, and you visibly relax in the armchair in front of her. âI just wanted to see how you were doing. See if you need anything. Youâre our only new addition to the staff this year and we havenât had a chance to properly speak, just the two of us. I trust everyone is treating you with respect?â
âOh. Yeah, everyoneâs been really, really nice. Iâve had a bit of a rough day, but itâs nothing I canât work out.â You sigh and force a smile, eyes cast downwards, fingers twisting absently in your lap.
Larissa stands and rounds her desk at your admission, leaning down in front of you and taking your chin between her fingers, forcing you to meet her eyes, which are full of genuine concern.
âHas something happened?â
âNot really. My students just like to challenge me every chance they get. I get it, Iâm pretty close to their age, but itâs frustrating.âÂ
Larissa nods her understanding. Sheâs inches away from you now and your breathing is shallow, the tension in the room now thick enough to cut with a knife. Your gaze flickers down to her cherry-red lips and when you look back up, you notice a hunger in her eyes that wasnât there before, widened pupils staring back at you. Larissaâs thumb traces the hollow of your cheek, causing your breath to hitch, and suddenly sheâs leaning in, brushing her lips softly against yours.Â
Your pulse skyrockets, you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. Itâs not that you donât want this, of course you do, youâve wanted it from the moment you laid eyes on the woman. You just hadnât realized sheâd also wanted it.
âLarissa?â You pull back, dazed, your eyes search hers. Her gaze is soft and reassuring, but thereâs something else there. Youâd seen it in movies, read about it in novels, but never had a look like this been directed at you before. Lust. Pure, unadulterated lust.
âIs this okay, Y/N?â Larissa whispers urgently, cupping your cheek and running her thumb over your bottom lip.
You nod fervently. âYes. Absolutely.â Like hell you were going to waste your one chance with Larissa Weems.
Larissa moans and pulls you in for a searing kiss. Her tongue swipes at your lower lip and you part your lips, allowing her to explore the planes of your mouth as her hands drop from your face to your waist, pulling you up out of the chair and flush against her. You arenât sure if itâs the warmth of the fire or your close proximity but your entire body is burning, a pleasant tingling sensation settling in your stomach and moving its way through your limbs.
You pull apart and her mouth is on your ear, her warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.Â
âTell me what you want, whatever you want, and itâs yours.â
You hesitate, frozen in place, fear bubbling up in your stomach and rushing through your veins like ice.
âIhavenâtactuallydoneanythinglikethisbefore,â you mumble, eyes locked in a staring contest with Larissaâs black heels.
âDarling,â Larissa hooks a finger under your chin and forces you to make eye contact with her, which makes your cheeks burn - youâre sure your entire face is on fire now. âYouâre going to have to speak up, I canât understand you.â
You suck in a deep breath. âIâm a virgin.âÂ
Thereâs a moment of deafening silence, but the hunger in Larissaâs eyes never dies. Instead, her pupils are blown wide, you can see her clench her thighs together out of the corner of your eyes, she looks ravenous.Â
You are surprised when Larissa offers you a hand and guides you to a door on the far right of her study, that leads to her private quarters.Â
âI thought we might be more comfortable here,â her voice drips with lust as she closes the door behind you, allowing you a moment to take in the sight of her lavishly decorated bedroom, complete with a massive, queen-sized bed at the center.Â
âYou donât have to do anything you donât want to do.â
âI want to,â you reply quickly, far too quickly, and you want to hit yourself for being so eager, but Larissa seems to find it endearing, as she smiles at you and guides you towards the bed.
You sit gingerly on the edge of the bed and Larissa places a hand on each of your thighs, parting them gently and simultaneously pushing up your skirt, letting out a groan as she sees the damp patch at the center of your cotton panties.Â
âWe havenât even gotten started and youâre already so wet for me, hmm?â Her finger teases your core, which is absolutely drenched at the mere thought of her, and you stifle a moan, throwing your head back at the touch.
âAh-ah, let me hear you. I want to hear every sound you make, okay?â Larissa coos. âDonât hold back on me.â
You draw in a ragged breath and nod, already dizzy from the idea of Larissa inches away from your dripping cunt.
Larissa plants a trail of kisses along your jaw, moving down the column of your neck until she is at the base of your throat, swirling her tongue over your pulse point. She begins to suck, gently at first then harder, eliciting a soft moan from deep within your throat as she nips at your skin, leaving a small red mark behind.Â
Smirking at her handiwork, her hands come to a rest on your chest, fingers hovering over the buttons of your blouse.
âIâve wanted you from the second I first laid eyes on you. Such a pretty, innocent little thing. May I?â The question is doused in carnal desire, Larissaâs voice low and wanting.
âYes,â you whisper, your eyes following her fingers, long and slender, as they deftly work their way down your top, pushing it down your shoulders and then moving to the zipper at the side of your skirt.Â
You feel exposed, sitting on Larissaâs bed in just your bra and underwear, face and chest flushed, but something about Larissaâs tender gaze and soft touch make you feel safe. Her hands move from your flesh to her own, tugging at the zipper of her cream colored dress, and your eyes watch as she drags it down her curves at a tantalizing pace until it pools at her feet.Â
Larissaâs knees come up to straddle your lap, pulling you further up the bed with her until youâre resting against her pillows. Sheâs hovering over you now, one hand on either side of your head, your bodies pressed against each other.Â
âAre you comfortable?â Her lips brush against yours and you whimper, nodding into the kiss, which Larissa deapens with a groan.
Her hand comes down to your side, moving under your back to unclasp your bra and pushing it to the side to grant herself access to your breasts. She kneads at the soft flesh, flicking her thumb over your nipple until sheâs satisfied with how hard it is, before moving to your other breast.Â
Her mouth finds your throat again, her tongue lapping at your skin, swirling, sucking, claiming you as her own with a series of marks youâll have to find a way to cover in the morning.
You hiss as her warm tongue slides over the sensitive peak of your hardened bud, earning a grin from the woman above you. Her mouth moves lower and lower, inch by inch, an agonizing journey of open-mouthed kisses down your ribcage, stomach, hip bones, leaving a trail of red lipstick smudges and purple hickeys. Your back arches into the sensation, chest heaving.
Larissa slows when she reaches your thighs, hands coming to rest on your hips and gently tugging at the cotton covering what she has been longing to stake her claim on.
âHips up,â she instructs and you oblige, allowing Larissa to pull your panties down your legs and toss them unceremoniously across the room.
Larissa stifles a groan when her eyes meet your pussy. You begin to push your thighs together subconsciously but Larissaâs hands stop you, spreading your legs.Â
âDonât be shy, darling,â she coos, pressing her lips to your inner thigh, and you feel yourself drip at the action. âLook at that pretty little cunt, so ready for me.â
The coil behind your navel tightens as Larissaâs kisses come closer to your core, until - finally - her lips make contact with your center. Her tongue traces a path through your folds, from your entrance to your clit, gathering your juices in her mouth. She moans at this first taste of you, you taste even better than she could have imagined. The scent of your arousal floods her senses and spurs her on as she begins to lap your pussy, enjoying the unfiltered moans that are escaping your lips.Â
âFuck- Larissa,â you moan as Larissaâs tongue begins to circle your bundle of nerves. Your knuckles are white as you grasp desperately at the sheets, head tilted back in pleasure. You spread your legs wider, arching your back and rocking your hips into her mouth.
âLook at me,â Larissa demands. You force your eyes to meet hers, both of your pupils blown with desire. Larissa has never looked sexier, her lipstick smudged, chest heaving. Your juices glisten on her chin and the sight brings a blush to your cheeks. âWho do you belong to?â
The question alone nearly snaps the hot coil in your stomach, goosebumps erupting all over your body. Youâre so desperately turned on by her.
âYou.â The answer comes out in a breathed whisper, your hips twitch wantonly toward Larissa, you need her again. She takes your sensitive bud in her mouth, sucking gently. The vibration of her moans against your pussy have you bucking your hips up, desperate to get more friction, when you feel nimble fingers trace lazy patterns at your entrance.Â
âFuck, Larissa, I need more,â you mewl, your hands coming up to rest on the back of Larissaâs head, pushing her closer to your dripping cunt. Larissa hums and you can feel her smile as she pushes two fingers inside of you, beginning a slow, steady pace. Your nails scratch at her scalp as you ride her face, pushing your hips forward to take her fingers deeper.
âYes, right there, right- ahh- Larissa!â Larissa makes note of every sound coming from your mouth, how your body responds to every touch, enjoying how sheâs able to make you come undone. Sheâs drunk on the feeling of you, the smell of you, the sound of you. So innocent, so sweet - moaning above her, screaming her name in a moment of pure desire. Knowing sheâs the one to be able to give you this experience.Â
Your thighs begin to tremble as Larissaâs fingers curl inside of you, drawing a strangled moan from your lips as you teeter on the edge of your orgasm. Larissaâs tongue sucks at your clit, her fingers increasing their pace, your legs shaking as the coil in your belly snaps, rocking your hips into Larissaâs face as you ride out your high.Â
She flattens her tongue against your cunt and laps up the juices flowing from you with a satisfied hum, coming up to lay beside you and latching her lips onto yours, allowing you to taste yourself on her tongue.Â
âYou did so well for me, love,â she whispers, caressing your cheek. âDo you need anything? Water? Do you want me to clean you up?â
You appreciate the sentiment but the thought of stopping without being able to worship the goddess in front of you is disappointing. You hesitate a moment before reaching behind Larissaâs back and stopping your fingers at the clasp of her lacy bra. Sheâs watching you curiously and her breath hitches audibly at the touch of your fingers.
âMay I?â Larissa nods, cheeks pink and pupils wide and you know youâve never seen anyone more adorable or sexy. You undo the clasp of her bra and a moment later, your hands are on her matching panties and sheâs helping you tug them down her legs.Â
âShow me what you like.â You need to know how to worship her right. Larissa whines, bringing her hand between her legs. She props up her leg so that you have a perfect view of her glistening cunt, absolutely drenched only for you. You can feel yourself getting wet again, your own cum pooling between your legs and dripping down your thighs. Your gaze is fixated on Larissaâs long fingers as they run through the length of her own folds to coat themselves in her slick. She reaches her clit, allowing her head to fall back as her fingers draw languid circles over the sensitive nub.Â
A groan falls from your lips and Larissaâs sapphire eyes meet yours. She stops pleasuring herself and instead her fingers circle your wrist, gently guiding your hand to her center. She mewls as you tease her entrance, allowing her legs to fall open and pushing her hips towards you in a desperate attempt to get you closer, growing impatient with need.
You dip two fingers into her center, pushing gently, watching in amazement as Larissaâs eyelids flutter shut, her mouth parting to let out breathy groans of affirmation as you bring your thumb to her swollen bundle of nerves.
The moans she lets out begin to get filthier and filthier as you pick up your pace, eyes trained on her core.
âDoes this feel good?âÂ
âSo, so good, Y/N,â Larissa groans, eyes rolling back in her head as your fingers find the spongy spot inside of her. âDeeper - right there, just like that.â
Larissa grasps forward to weave her hands around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a bruising kiss. Her tongue moves against yours, her breathing hot and needy. She whines into your mouth as your fingers pump in and out of her, and her fingers find purchase in your hair, curling themselves in your tresses and pulling back gently.
Your eyes are wide with lust as Larissaâs arousal drips down your fingers, a pitiful moan falling from your lips as you feel Larissa begin to clench around your fingers as if trying to keep you there. Throwing caution to the wind, you add a third finger, eliciting a delicious gasp from the woman in front of you.
âFuck, Iâm gonna come!â Larissaâs thighs begin to shake, hips thrusting up erratically to meet your fingers which are knuckle deep in her cunt, stretching her out, curling into her sweet spot. You watch in awe as Larissa slowly comes undone, her fingers tightening their grip in your hair as she shudders against you, her essence leaking out of her center.
Not breaking eye contact, you bring your fingers to your mouth to suck them clean, moaning at the taste of Larissa on your tongue. You have never tasted anything so divine. Larissa crawls over to you and sinks back onto the pillows with a sigh, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes.Â
âCome,â Larissa whispers softly, and you allow her to wrap her arms around you. You relish the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other, enjoying the warmth of her bare skin. Her fingers trace the bruised marks sheâd made with her mouth, her touch light as a feather. She entwines her long legs with yours, rubbing your calves together gently.Â
She allows you to bury your head in her neck and you breathe in the scent of her, sweat mingling with musky perfume and the smell of her sheets.Â
âYou did so well for me, my sweet one. Thank you for trusting me,â Larissa coos, rocking you against her, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Larissa ducks her head down, her breath on your cheek causing you to shiver pleasantly as she whispers her next words. âYou are mine, darling. Only mine.â
âI am yours,â you whisper back sleepily, the adoration in your gaze mirroring her own as you snuggle into her chest, sighing contentedly. The pads of Larissaâs fingers stroke up and down your arms as she waits for your breathing to even out before allowing herself to follow suit, thinking to herself that she would gladly spend every night like this with your head on her chest and your legs tangled in hers. Your words echo in her head as she drifts off to sleep - you are hers.
823 notes
·
View notes