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wholoveseggs · 17 days ago

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Kinktober - {Day Twenty-Six} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} Request {Anon}: Hi, for kinktober could you do one with Elijah and have shower/ bath sex with some mirror included? Preferably bathroom sex atmosphere and please use she/her pronouns and heterosexuality please and thank you.

♡♡♡ Ugh love this idea anon! I made this one super sappy & steamyy ..♡♡♡

2.4k words - Kinks: mirror sex, shower sex, Elljah being sweet & a tea kettle ..

Elijah could tell you were exhausted the moment you walked into the compound.

The dark circles under your eyes were a sign that you hadn't been sleeping well. Your shoulders were tense, and the bags you were carrying were heavy. He immediately grabbed them from you, setting them aside.

"Ughhhh," you groaned, falling against his chest. "It's been a day, and a half. A long, fucking, exhausting, day and a half."

He squeezed you against him, his fingers running through your hair. Seeing you like this, all he wanted was to make you feel better. "Did you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." You let out a sigh. "Can we just watch a movie, and I don't know..."

You felt so shitty, that the ability to make simple decisions had escaped you. You were too tired to even think.

"I have a better idea," he said, "go take a hot shower and I'll make you a cup of tea. We can cuddle on the couch and watch movies, okay?"

You smiled against him, and then looked up into his warm brown eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

He leaned down and placed a sweet kiss against your lips. Then, with a swat to your ass, he nudged you in the direction of the stairs.

You smiled, loving when he did little things like that.

As you reached the top of the stairs, you could hear him in the kitchen, starting the water for your tea. You went to his bedroom and into the bathroom, turning the shower on and letting the water heat up.

It's always a bit of a strange feeling, using someone else's shower. You looked around at all of the toiletries, everything expensive and high quality, just like him. The thought brought a smile to your face.

His shower was ridiculously fancy, with a huge rain shower head, glass paneling, and a built-in bench. It was all so pristine, it was as if no one had ever used it before.

You got undressed, and stepped under the hot stream of water, the tension in your muscles slowly beginning to dissipate.

You closed your eyes, and tilted your head back, letting the water run through your hair and down your face. The tension in your muscles had begun to melt, and you sighed with relief.

You grabbed an expensive looking bottle, sniffing the contents. It smelled like him, and it made you feel warm inside. He was always so good to you, and he always seemed to know what you needed, even when you didn't.

There was a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," you called out.

He entered, his eyes sweeping across your naked form. "What kind of tea do you want? I have chamomile, green, or I have a new lavender blend that Freya made..."

He was trying his best to keep his gaze focused on your face, but you could tell he was struggling. It made your core throb, just the way he was looking at you.

"Surprise me," you said with a smirk.

"Alright," he said, clearing his throat, and making an effort to leave.

"'lijah?" you called out.

He stopped, and looked at you again. "Yes, love?"

"Would you like to join me?" You asked, biting your bottom lip.

He gave you one of his slow smiles, the lines around his eyes creasing in a way that made you want to melt. "If you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all," you said with a grin.

You watched as he removed his clothes, and folded them neatly, placing them on the sink counter. His eyes never left yours, and the more skin he exposed, the hotter you felt.

The steam had caused his hair to curl a bit, it made him look even sexier, if that was possible.

He opened the door and stepped inside, standing before you, the water running down his skin.

"Hi," he said, smiling shyly.

"Hey," you replied, stepping towards him.

You took his face in your hands, and kissed him, his wet skin sliding against yours. He wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you flush against him, his length pressed between you.

"I have to say, your shower is quite impressive," you said with a grin, leaning in for another kiss.

"Thank you," he said. "I'll be sure to tell my architect."

He pulled you closer, his hand sliding down the slope of your spine, coming to rest on your lower back. He held you like that, the two of you kissing languidly, under the hot stream of water.

He reached for a bottle, pouring some liquid soap into his hand, and then rubbed them together. You loved the way he was looking at you, like he was going to devour you whole.

He ran his hands along your body, his fingers exploring every inch of you. His touch was firm, kneading and massaging your tired muscles. You leaned into him, closing your eyes.

You were feeling relaxed, but you also felt turned on, the way he was touching you, the way his fingers were gliding over your slick, wet skin. You looked up at him, his gaze heavy, and intense.

You smiled, and grabbed the bottle, returning the favor.

His body was perfect. Every inch of him was firm, and smooth. His broad shoulders and muscular chest, and his arms... his arms were something else. You enjoyed his patch of chest hair, and the happy trail leading to his cock. The way the water ran down his face and over his body was enough to drive you crazy.

He was watching you with lustful eyes, the way your hands were exploring his body. You were teasing him, your fingers ghosting along his lower stomach. The heat had seeped into your bones, and the feel of his skin against yours had started a fire inside of you.

You could feel yourself growing more and more aroused, his hard length pressing into your belly, only making you more desperate.

His kisses trailed from your mouth, along your jaw, down your neck, and onto your collar bone. You sighed, your hand coming to tangle in his damp hair, your nails gently scraping his scalp. He took a step forward, backing you up against the wall, the tiles cool against your back.

You reached for him, and wrapped your fingers around his cock. He groaned, his forehead falling against yours. He pressed into you, and you began to stroke him, feeling him grow harder with each pump of your hand.

You loved the way he responded to you, the way the water cascaded down his chest, and the way his breath quickened as you increased the pace of your movements.

He took your wrist and pulled you off of him. Then he guided you towards the bench, getting you to sit down, your back against the tile wall.

"Would you like to see what else this shower is capable of?" He asked with a wicked smile.

"Mmm, show me," you answered, excited to find out.

He reached up and fiddled with a couple of dials, until the jets came on, the water shooting out at different angles, and varying pressures. The steam was thick and heavy in the air.

You could feel the warm water misting against your skin. You sighed, it felt so good. He knelt in front of you, and kissed you, then moved on to your neck. You closed your eyes, your head falling back against the tile.

His kisses trailed from your neck, to your chest, his tongue laving over a nipple. You let out a moan, your body melting against him. His hands moved down your sides, hooking under your knees, spreading your legs.

He continued to kiss his way down, until he reached your core. He paused for a moment, looking up at you, his eyes dark, and lust filled. You bit your lip, and nodded. He grinned, and began to kiss and suck on your inner thigh.

He placed your leg over his shoulder, and then buried his face in between your thighs, his tongue licking up the length of your pussy. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

He licked and sucked on your clit, his fingers rubbing your opening. You moaned, your head falling back, your eyes squeezing shut. He was groaning softly, the deep vibrations causing waves of pleasure to course through your body.

He kept a slow, steady rhythm, curling his finger to hit that sweet spot inside of you. Your grip on his hair tightened, and you cried out, his name falling from your lips, lost in the thick, humid air.

Your orgasm was building, your hips grinding against his face. He increased his speed, sucking harder, his finger moving faster, the pressure coiling tighter, and tighter.

And then it happened, a burst of heat and euphoria, rushing through your veins, as the orgasm rippled through your body. You could hear him groan as you clenched around his finger, and his mouth continued to lick and suck at you, drawing out the waves of pleasure.

He removed his finger, and gently sucked and nibbled on your clit, before giving it a tender kiss and leaning back. You were still panting, trying to catch your breath, and regain some sense of reality.

He shook his head, water flying off his hair, a sly smirk on his face. He stood up, and reached behind him, turning the dials off.

He pulled you up, and into his arms, causing you to giggle. He gave you a kiss, and then took a step backwards, bringing you with him, and pushing the shower door open.

"Where are we going?" You asked, laughing.

"Having sex in a shower is never as comfortable as people think," he explained, pulling you out into the steamy bathroom, the air was so thick it was hard to see.

"And I'm worried you'll slip," he said, walking towards the sink counter.

"Ah," you said with a smile. "You're a very thoughtful lover."

He chuckled. "I try."

You laughed, wiping the condensation off the mirror, your hair and skin wet and slick. He was still behind you, kissing and nibbling on the shell of your ear.

You could see him in the reflection, his arms wrapped around you, his hands running over the contours of your body. You pushed your hips back, grinding against him, feeling his cock throb against you.

He looked up, meeting your eyes in the mirror and you smiled, bending over the sink and giving him a wink.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he said, running a hand down the curve of your spine.

You watched him in the reflection, the way his gaze followed the curves of your body, and the way his tongue flicked out, wetting his lips. His fingers weaved through your hair, while his other hand was on his cock, guiding it into you.

The sensation of being filled, stretched and pleasured was so overwhelming. You gripped the counter, and let out a gasp. His fingers gripped your hips, his gaze never leaving yours in the reflection.

"Is this okay?" He asked.

"More than okay," you assured him. "It's so hot, watching us."

You could see the way his face changed, his lips parting, his breathing quickening. His eyes were hooded and dark, a look of lust and desire that had you aching for more.

He moved inside of you, slow and deep, his gaze fixed on yours. You could feel him, filling and stretching you, each movement bringing you closer to the edge.

You enjoyed the way the water darkened all of his features, his hair clinging to his face, the way his eyes were even more intense, the way his skin glistened. You loved the way his muscles flexed, the way he moved inside of you, how his hands were gripping you.

He began to move faster, his cock hitting you in all the right places. He gently tugged on your hair, pulling you back towards him. Your head fell against his chest, his other arm wrapping around you, his lips on your neck, sucking little marks into the soft, sensitive skin.

You could feel him everywhere, all around you, the weight of his body holding you down, the scent of him in the air. His fingers were gripping your hip, his arm was tight around your waist. You were both moaning, your skin sliding against his.

Your eyes met in the mirror, his expression one of pure ecstasy, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open, his brows knit together. It was enough to push you over the edge, and send you flying. You moaned his name, and clenched around him, your body pulsing and quivering.

He pulled you back towards him, and thrust into you a few more times, before finding his own release, spilling inside of you.

He stayed there, buried deep, his head on your shoulder, the two of you catching your breath. He kissed the back of your neck, and gently pulled out.

You stood up, and he handed you a towel, and wrapped one around himself. Then he scooped you up, and carried you out to his bedroom.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked, setting you down on his bed.

"Much," you said, snuggling into his soft sheets, reaching out for him to join you.

He was about to climb in beside you, when he paused, tilting his head towards the door. Then he stood, rushing out of the room.

You heard him running down the stairs, and then you heard the faint sound of the kettle whistling. You laughed to yourself, shaking your head. He had been so wrapped up in the moment, that he had completely forgotten about the tea.

He returned a few minutes later, and you had made yourself comfortable, waiting for him. He had a sheepish look on his face, and a hot mug of tea in his hand.

"I may have damaged the stove... And the kettle," he admitted, handing you the drink.

You let out a laugh, the steam rising from the cup. "Oh, 'lijah."

He shrugged, climbing into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms.

"How about a movie marathon?" He asked, placing a kiss against your head.

After a long day, nothing was better than this. You were curled up next to him, safe, and loved, and warm. So relaxed that you fell asleep before the first film had even started.

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yuutaok · 15 days ago

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Can We Lose Our Minds, and Call It Love?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Rockstar! Yuuta Okkotsu x Reader

“I’ve seen you before,” he said quietly, his voice rough from the performance. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, his fingers tapping absently against his leg, a nervous habit that felt out of place coming from someone who had just commanded a stage so effortlessly.

You blinked, did you hear that right? You shook your head, surprised by his words, “You remember me?”

⋆୨♡୧⋆ Word Count: 6.2k

⋆୨♡୧⋆ Content Warnings: MDNI 18+, mutual obsession, dry humping, p in v, unprotected sex, cervix fucking, brief nipple-play, Yuuta is a strange little man agenda

⋆୨♡୧⋆ Author’s Note: This is only lightly beta’d, I was possessed by a demon what can I say. Title is from PTV’s song ‘The Balcony Scene’. It’s been soooo long since I have written, I hope that you enjoy this!

The thrum of bass reverberated through your chest as the lights dimmed, bathing the concert hall in a mix of deep purples and reds. The air itself felt alive, heavy with anticipation, excitement, sweat, and liquor. The crowd was buzzing, swaying bodies pressing closer to the stage. But your attention wasn’t on them. It was on him.

Yuuta Okkotsu.

The lead singer of the rising band that had taken the scene by storm. He wasn’t just another rockstar; he was different. His voice carried a rawness, a haunting quality that made your heart soar. He was confessing secrets, whispering melodies that cut through your ribs into your heart.

You were a longtime fan, but it had been years since you’d been able to make it to a live show. There was a time when you’d attended every local concert, following Yuuta and his band from one venue to the next, drawn by something in Yuuta you couldn’t put into words. You always swore, in a bit of a delusional manner, that he started to recognize you up on that stage, giving you small smiles that felt just for you.

Alas, life had changed. You went away for school and navigating the demands of professional life had become your focus, pulling you further from the late-night scene.

Online streams and fancams filled some of the gaps, but they could only do so much. You missed the energy of live shows, the feeling of being there, surrounded by the sound, with Yuuta’s voice breaking through everything else. His music had always spoken to you in a way nothing else could. It was like he understood the hollow ache you carried inside, the kind of loneliness you could never quite explain.

Tonight was the first time in years that you’d been able to see him in person again, and the weight of that old longing resurfaced with an intensity you hadn’t expected.

It was after the last show you were able to attend—the venue still buzzing with the fading energy of the performance—that you met him. The crowd had thinned, people slowly trickling out into the night, but a handful of fans lingered near the exit, hoping for one last glimpse of the band. You stood at the edge of the group, feeling your pulse race as Yuuta appeared, shyly signing a few autographs, his head down, his shoulders hunched as if he wasn’t used to the attention.

When it was your turn, you hesitated, holding out your CD with trembling hands. Yuuta’s fingers brushed yours as he took it, and for a brief moment, your eyes met. It wasn’t the usual excitement of meeting a celebrity, it was something quieter, something that felt like recognition.

You hadn’t planned to say much. Just hand him your CD, and maybe offer a quick compliment about the show. But when his eyes met yours the words you’d rehearsed in your head dissolved. Instead, you found yourself blurting out something entirely different.

“I know what you mean.”

Yuuta blinked, his pen hovering over the paper, his brow furrowing slightly. “What?”

You hesitated, wondering if you should have kept quiet. But there was something about the way he looked at you, really looked at you,that made it feel like the world had faded away. The noise of the venue, the chatter of the fans,all of it disappeared in that moment. It was just the two of you.

“I can hear it in your voice— the way you carry yourself. There is something that aches. Like you’re reaching for something just out of sight.”

For a second, his expression shifted,just barely. His eyes widened, only slightly, and his grip on the pen tightened. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but the words never came.

You pressed on, your voice quieter now, unsure but unable to stop. “It’s in the way you sing. It must be so lonely. It’s like you’re looking for something. Or someone. There’s an emptiness that is so hard to quench— like you’re starving.”

Yuuta didn’t respond right away. He just stared at you, his dark blue eyes locked onto yours as if trying to figure you out as if you had just exposed something he did not expect. The silence between you stretched on, thick with unspoken tension, and for a moment, you wondered if you had crossed a line, if you had said too much.

But then, slowly, he nodded. His hand trembled slightly as he signed the CD, his gaze never leaving yours. The simple acknowledgment, so small yet so heavy, left a strange knot in your chest.

His fingers brushed against yours, cold and hesitant, like he wasn’t used to touch.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low, rough. Something unspoken in those two words that lingered between you long after you left the venue. It was honestly the best night of your life.

As the first strum of the guitar echoed through the venue, Yuuta emerged from the shadows, his figure bathed in a dim spotlight. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and those intense, brooding eyes swept over the crowd. The microphone in his hand trembled slightly, not from nerves, but from the restrained energy coiling within him. The crowd roared louder, but you stood frozen, heart pounding in sync with the beat.

The music began, soft at first, but growing with intensity. Yuuta’s voice resonated through the sound, both soothing and chaotic, a paradox that wrapped around you. His presence was magnetic, and no matter how much you tried to blend into the crowd, it felt like his gaze landed on you— only you.

You shivered, the hairs on the back of your neck standing as you looked back at him. There was something in his eyes, a darkness you couldn’t look away from, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. It was terrifying and thrilling at the same time. He moved with a quiet, simmering intensity, his voice dropping lower during certain lyrics, his words carrying a weight that tugged at the pit of your stomach.

The air between you crackled, sending a chill down your spine. You blinked, and the moment was gone—his focus shifting to the rest of the stage, but the feeling lingered, like electricity and sparks in the air.

By the time the set ended, you were breathless. The performance had stirred something deep inside you, your eyes twinkling, head spinning, absolutely starstruck. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him as he bowed slightly, the crowd screaming for more. Yuuta didn’t soak up the adoration like most rock stars would. He simply smiled politely at the crowd and turned, slipping into the shadows backstage, his silhouette disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. You swore he looked back, right at where you stood.

It felt like he’d seen right through you.

A couple more bands continued to play, with the crowd still crazy for more. You were mostly here for Yuuta, though. You opted to take a seat back at the bar, downing your drink as you took solace in the coolness of the cup and the warmth and fuzziness the alcohol gave you.

The lingering pull in your chest hadn’t faded. You played with the cherry stem your drink came with, mind racing with the image of Yuuta— his pale skin gleaming under the dim lights, the way his black hair had fallen messily over his sweaty forehead, the deep blue of his eyes, heavy-lidded with exhaustion. There was something so haunting, almost fragile about him.

You barely noticed someone approaching until they were standing right in front of you—a man dressed in dark clothing, with a cold expression that sent a prickle of unease down your spine.

“Yuuta wants to see you,” he said simply, offering a small black card with a backstage pass clipped to it. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Me?” you asked, uncertain if you’d heard him right.

The man didn’t repeat himself, just nodded and gestured toward the side door. You hesitated, your heart hammering in your chest. Why would he want to see you? Maybe it was a mistake and this was some weird coincidence.

But you couldn’t deny the thrill that shot through you at the thought of seeing him again. Without fully understanding, you accepted the pass and followed the man through a dimly lit hallway that led backstage. The excitement of the concert had faded, and now the atmosphere felt colder, heavier.

The man stopped at a door and knocked softly before opening it, gesturing for you to enter.

You stepped inside, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. The room was small, warmly lit by a single lamp in the corner. Posters and musical equipment were scattered around, but it was Yuuta, sitting on a worn leather couch, who drew your attention.

He looked different from the confident figure on stage. His black hair was still messy, but now it hung in damp strands, framing his pale face. The dark bags under his eyes made him seem even more exhausted up close like he hadn’t slept in days. But it was his eyes—those deep, shadowed dark eyes—that made you pause. There was something sweet in them, but also something unsettling, something that made you feel like he was keeping secrets far too heavy to be shared.

“You came,” he said softly, his voice still raspy from singing. He offered a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

Your throat tightened, and you nodded, feeling strangely vulnerable under his gaze. “I—yeah, I guess I… I just didn’t expect this.”

He gestured for you to come sit next to him, patting the worn-out leather. You swallowed, obliging his request as you took quick, nervous steps towards him. His presence felt almost overwhelming in the small space, his skin glowing faintly in the dim light. “I saw you,” he murmured, his voice quiet but intense. “In the crowd.”

The air between you crackled with something heavy, and though his words were soft, there was a weight behind them that made your heart race. It felt almost predatory.

“I… Yeah… I guess you did. ” your breath hitched. You nervously looked up at him, cheeks hot. Wow, was he always this handsome?

He smiled again, “I don’t usually do this, bringing fans backstage… But you… there’s something about you.”

Yuuta kept his distance, his hands clenched together in his lap. His black hair fell over his pale face, casting dark shadows over his blue eyes, which flickered toward you but quickly darted away. Something was unsettling about his stillness as if he was trying to figure out how close he should get—or how far he should stay.

You blinked, did you hear that right? You shook your head, surprised by his words. “You… You remember me?”

Yuuta nodded slowly, his gaze finally lifting to meet yours, but something was unnerving about the way he looked at you— like he wasn’t just seeing you in that moment, but recalling something deeper, something that had been bothering him for a while. “You’ve been to some shows,” he continued, his voice low, a little too casual. “I’ve noticed.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, and you weren’t sure why. There was nothing inherently strange about a musician recognizing a fan, but the way he said it, the way his eyes lingered on you, made your stomach twist. “I… yeah. I’ve been to a few,” you admitted, suddenly feeling exposed like he had been watching you far more closely than you’d realized. “It’s been a while.”

He didn’t come closer, but the air between you felt thinner now as if the space that remained wasn’t enough to protect you from the weight of his gaze. “I kept seeing you. Every show. Always in the crowd. Always watching. But then, you stopped.”

Your heart pounded harder in your chest, but it wasn’t from excitement. It was something darker, something that made you feel as though you’d been caught in a web you hadn’t even realized was being spun around you. “Yeah… Sorry… I… I didn’t think you noticed, let alone acknowledged my presence,” you said, your voice sounding smaller than you intended.

Yuuta’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. It was more like a recognition, a knowing that made your pulse quicken. “I keep a close eye on things,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost hypnotic.

The words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been. His eyes were tired, rimmed with dark circles, but there was something else behind them, something far less innocent than the vulnerability he projected.

“We spoke once, after a show,” he murmured, his voice quiet, “I was already looking for you then… but after that night, I couldn’t help myself. Every time, I kept searching the crowd, hoping to see you. And when I saw you again tonight… I had to find you.”

The way he said it wasn’t direct, like a confession. More so an observation, something he had come to terms with over time, something that had slipped into his awareness without his permission. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, dark and unreadable, but they lingered only briefly before shifting away again.

Your breath caught in your throat. The room felt smaller, the shadows creeping in closer. You didn’t know how to respond, your mind spinning with the realization that Yuuta had been watching you, tracking your presence from show to show, even after the autograph session, and now… Now, you were here, with him, alone. Your heart swelled that you might mean something to him.

“Why?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly, though you tried to hide it. “Why did you need to see me?”

Yuuta tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to find the answer himself. “I don’t know,” he said finally, his voice quiet, but there was an intensity behind it that made your chest tighten. “But it doesn’t feel like I can ignore it anymore.”

Yuuta's fingers twitched at his side, and for a moment, it looked like he was going to reach for you, but he stopped himself, his hand dropping back to his side. “I don’t want you to think my invitation back here is… normal,” he said softly, his eyes holding yours in a way that made it impossible to look away. “It’s not.”

The warmth of his performance, the energy he radiated on stage, was gone, replaced by something more unsettling, something of quiet passion.

Your pulse quickened, the anxiousness mixing with something else now— thrill. “Then. Why did you do it?” you asked, your voice shaky with nerves.

Yuuta looked down, his jaw tensing as if he was struggling with something he couldn’t explain. “Because I can’t help myself.”

Yuuta’s eyes met yours again, and for the briefest moment, you saw something raw in them, it made your heart ache with a strange kind of sympathy. He wasn’t trying to scare you, but he couldn’t deny that something about his fixation wasn’t right. And yet, here you were, standing in the middle of it, unable to pull away.

The room was still, but there was a tremor beneath the surface, an energy so thick it made the air feel too heavy to breathe. He didn’t move closer, not yet. Instead, he lingered in the space between you, his body tense, his eyes lowered as if he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze for too long. There was a quiet restraint in him, but it was thin, frayed at the edges, as though it wouldn’t take much to pull it apart.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the space between you both growing smaller, though neither of you moved. Something magnetic, something that had been pulling you together long before either of you had understood it.

“You’re still here,” he added, his voice softer, more tentative, as though the fact of your presence was something that puzzled him. His fingers curled slightly, the faintest movement, but they didn’t reach for you. Not yet.

You could hear the unasked question in his words, the quiet uncertainty that underlined everything he wasn’t saying. He had seen you. He had noticed. You have come back. You were here, standing in the same space, breathing the same heavy air, tied together by something you couldn’t name.

There was no need to say that you felt it too.

The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t empty. It was filled with everything neither of you could say, everything that simmered just beneath the surface. The tension was there, thick and palpable, but it wasn’t rushed. It was slow, deliberate, like the pull of a tide that dragged you in, inch by inch.

“Why?” Yuuta asked finally. The word hung in the air between you, not demanding an answer, but leaving space for one all the same.

You didn’t answer right away. The truth wasn’t something you could put into words, not in a way that made sense. It wasn’t a decision you had made consciously, wasn’t something you had planned. It was as if something larger than yourself had been guiding you all along, pulling you back to him, tying you to him in ways you didn’t fully understand.

“I think I’m meant to be here,” you said finally, your voice soft but steady.

Yuuta’s expression didn’t change, but there was something in his eyes that flickered, something dark, that hinted at the same confusion, hungry.

You could feel it— the shift in him, the way his restraint was fraying at the edges, the way he seemed to be holding himself in place with the thinnest of threads. You could feel it in the way Yuuta’s fingers twitched slightly at his side, his hand so close to yours but never quite touching. In the way, his breath hitched every time his gaze flickered toward you.

And you were holding your breath, waiting.

The air between you was thick, almost suffocating, but neither of you moved. The moment stretched on, and yet you both seemed content to exist in it, neither pushing nor pulling.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, looking for you,” Yuuta said quietly, his voice so soft it barely broke the silence. His eyes lingered on the floor for a moment before he looked back up at you, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. “At every show I have played, I tried, but I couldn’t stop.”

The truth in his words was obvious, the pull between you as tangible as the air you breathed, thick and heavy, as if something larger than either of you was at play.

You paused, your heart beating deep in your chest, “You never wanted to stop,” you said softly, your voice steady but quiet, as if you were sharing a secret.

Yuuta’s eyes flickered with something dark and intense— something that hinted at all the things he hadn’t said, all the things he couldn’t say. His fingers curled slightly, the faintest movement, but they didn’t reach for you. Not yet.

“No,” he admitted after a beat, his voice low, almost rough. “I didn’t.”

Yuuta’s gaze darkened, his fingers twitching at his side, and for the briefest moment, you thought he might reach for you. But he held himself back, as though on the edge of something he couldn’t fully grasp.

“I don’t understand this,” he murmured, his voice rough, as if the admission itself cost him something he couldn’t afford to give.

The silence stretched between you like a living thing, thick and heavy, pressing in from all sides, as though the room itself was holding its breath. Yuuta’s gaze hadn’t left yours, and though his body remained still, something in his eyes betrayed the careful control he was trying so hard to maintain.

“Do you?” Yuuta’s voice was barely audible, the question itself fragile, as if he feared breaking the moment with it.

Yuuta’s hand twitched again, and for a moment, you thought he might reach for you, might finally close the distance between you that had been growing smaller and smaller. Instead, he held himself in place, the tension in his body palpable, as though he was fighting some unseen force, something that threatened to consume him if he let it.

You met his eyes, feeling that same pull you’d felt from the start. “I think we are meant to find each other,” you replied, your voice low, a quiet certainty settling over the words. You reached over to grasp Yuuta’s hands into yours, his eyes going wide. You intertwined your fingers, clasping them delicately, as if this moment was something that could shatter in an instant.

“We should…” He trailed off, his voice barely a whisper, as if he wasn’t even sure what he was about to say. His eyes were dark, heavy with something you couldn’t quite name, and the space between you felt smaller than ever.

And then, finally, it snapped.

It was subtle at first, just the barest shift in his posture, the slightest tightening of his grip on your hand. But that was all it took to send a jolt through you, the air thickening as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in its intensity. His fingers curled around yours, tighter now, as if he had finally given in to the pull that had been tugging at him for so long.

His breath was unsteady, his chest rising and falling just a little too quickly, and his gaze flickered down to your lips, lingering there for a moment before sweeping back up to meet your eyes. There was no more restraint in his expression now, no more hesitation. Whatever had been holding him back had finally frayed beyond repair, and you could feel the shift in him— the quiet, barely contained need that was simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

“I can’t—” He started to speak, but the words died on his lips, his voice rough, almost broken. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say, it was that there were no words left that could explain what was happening between you. Whatever this was, it was beyond reason now, beyond logic or explanation.

It just was.

And that was enough.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your breath catching in your throat as you finally leaned into the pull, into the gravity that had been drawing you both together from the start. Yuuta’s fingers tightened around yours, his other hand lifting slowly, hesitantly, as though he was still trying to hold himself back— but only barely.

When his fingers brushed against your cheek, the touch was feather-light, almost trembling, as if he was afraid of what might happen if he let himself go any further. But the weight of his hand was enough to send a shiver down your spine, enough to make your breath come out unsteadily, the heat of the moment settling deep in your chest.

You looked up at him, and for the first time, you saw it clearly— the quiet desperation in his gaze, the raw, unfiltered intensity that had been simmering beneath the surface all along. He wasn’t just looking at you. He was seeing you, in a way that felt almost too much, too overwhelming, like he was trying to drink you in, trying to consume you whole.

It was the look of someone who had been holding back for far too long.

And it made your heart race.

“Yuuta…” you whispered, the word barely audible, but it was enough to break the last bit of tension between you, enough to make him close the final gap.

His hand slid from your cheek to your jaw, his grip firm but still trembling slightly, as though he was still fighting against himself even now. His eyes flickered down to your lips again, and this time, he didn’t look away.

His breath was warm against your skin, and when he finally leaned in, the movement was slow, almost hesitant, like he was still giving you the chance to pull away—to stop this before it went too far.

But you didn’t.

You leaned into him instead, your breath mingling with his as the space between you dissolved completely, the tension snapping into something more intense, more immediate. His lips brushed against yours, light at first, like a question. But when you didn’t pull away, when you leaned into him, he finally let go of the restraint he had been clinging to for so long.

The kiss deepened, slow at first but quickly becoming more urgent, more insistent like the floodgates had finally opened and everything he had been holding back was spilling over. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and the weight of his presence was overwhelming, mouth lapping at yours, hungry, absolutely starved.

There was no hesitation in him now, no more uncertainty. His fingers curled into your hair, his grip tightening and allowing him better access to devour you.

Your hands found their way to his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours in a way that made your pulse race, your breath coming faster now, more unsteady.

The room seemed to spin around you, the air thick with heat. Yuuta’s hand slid down your back, his touch a possessive grasp, pulling you closer and closer to him, as if he was never ever going to let you go.

And the thought of it—of being his, of letting him consume you completely—made your heart soar, the heat between you growing more intense. The kiss deepened–all saliva, teeth, and tongue.

The air was still thick, charged with the aftermath of what had just passed between you. Yuuta hadn’t pulled away. His body was still close to yours, his hand resting on the back of your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair as though he couldn’t bring himself to let go. His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling too quickly, and though the kiss had ended, the weight of it still hung between you like a heavy cloud.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. There were no words that could make sense of what had just happened, no explanation that could satisfy the raw, electric energy that still simmered beneath the surface. It was as though time had stopped, the world around you shrinking down to just the two of you, suspended in the tension that had finally snapped, leaving both of you gasping in its wake.

Yuuta’s eyes were dark, heavy with something you couldn’t name, and though his grip on you had loosened slightly, his body remained tense, as though he was still holding himself back, even now. His lips parted, and for a moment, it seemed like he was about to speak, but the words didn’t come. Instead, his gaze flickered down to where his hand rested against the small of your back, his touch still firm, still possessive.

“I shouldn’t have…” His voice was quiet, rough, like he was trying to find a way to apologize for something neither of you wanted to take back. But the apology never came. He trailed off, his eyes flickering up to meet yours again, and the intensity in his gaze made your breath catch in your throat.

It wasn’t regret you saw in his eyes. It wasn’t hesitation either. It was something darker, something that had been there all along but had only just begun to surface.

Possession.

He hadn’t just wanted to kiss you. He had wanted to claim you, to make sure that whatever was between you wasn’t something you could walk away from.

“Yuuta,” you whispered, the sound of his name enough to break the silence, to make his grip on you tighten again, pulling you closer once more. His breath hitched slightly at the sound of his name on your lips, and you could see the way his restraint was fraying, the way the darkness in his gaze was growing, becoming more insistent, more all-consuming.

His fingers tightened in your hair, and his other hand slid down to grasp your waist, holding you there as though he was afraid to let go, afraid that if he did, you might slip away, and this moment might disappear.

You lifted your hand to his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, grounding him in the intensity of what was happening between you. His breath came out in a sharp exhale, and for a moment, you felt him tremble beneath your touch, as though he was still trying to hold himself together, still trying to keep from losing control.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, the words falling from your lips before you could think better of them. But it was the truth. You didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to pull away.

Yuuta’s breath hitched again, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. His grip on you tightened his body tense with the weight of everything that was happening, with everything that had been left unsaid. And then, slowly, his lips found yours again, softer this time, moving down your jaw and trailing to your collarbone. You laid back and guided him towards you as you bore your neck, allowing him better access as your hands slid up to the back of his neck, your fingers curling into his hair, pulling him closer.

Yuuta’s kisses felt hot against your throat, love bites and bruises left in his wake as he sucked at your skin. They left you dizzy, your senses filled only with your darling Yuuta.

His hips made a home between your legs, the hardness beneath his pants rubbing at your clothed heat as your hips moved up to grind against him. You gasped, letting out soft moans as Yuuta rutted harder and faster against you, your slick building and seeping through your panties. He could keep at this all night, if you let him. Perfectly content with just dry humping you until you came against him over and over again. Alas, you wanted more than that.

“Yuuta,” you whined, hands clawing at his belt, desperation heavy in your voice.

“What do you want?” Yuuta asked, voice rough as his breath tickled your ear, “Tell me.”

“I want you. I want you. Please,” You beg, unsuccessfully trying to unbuckle his belt, fingers clumsy and desperate against the worn black leather.

Yuuta’s eyes darkened at your words, his breath catching in his throat as the weight of them sank in. His hand, still resting at the small of your back, tightened, pulling you closer, and you could feel the shift in him—the way his possessiveness mirrored your own.

Yuuta’s breath was unsteady, his forehead resting lightly against yours, as though he needed to feel you close to stay grounded. But even in the closeness, you could sense the restlessness in him– the way his fingers still gripped your waist, the tension in his body that threatened to spill over.

From your waist, his hand moved to snake its way to the source of your slick, fingers carefully dancing across the heat of your skin down into your soaked panties. Muffled moans escaping your lips as his fingers rubbed against your swollen clit, calloused fingers dipping into the folds of your dripping-wet pussy. Yuuta’s breath hitched, cheeks flushed as he realized how needy you were for him.

He felt absolutely haunted by the way your soft little moans made his heart swell. ‘Addicting’, he thought, he wanted to strum you like a chord and make you sing a melody that never stopped looping in his mind.

Your thighs shook as Yuuta unbuckled his belt, pants drooping around his hips as he pulled out his cock. It sprang to life, your mouth watering at the size of his member. He smiled sheepishly as you moved your hips towards him. He moved to situate himself over you, his leaky tip rubbing against the swell of your clit. He worked himself against your slick, coating himself as he teased your dripping hole, smearing his sticky precum over your pussy.

He sighed as he pushed into you, slowly, carefully. The air was knocked out of your gut and your legs wrapped around his waist, welcoming the satisfaction that came when he made a home in your tight walls.

Yuuta’s fingers dug into your hips as he bottomed out into your cunt, his head kissed your cervix in a way that made your eyelashes flutter. He started off with slow, languid strokes that only began to ramp up pace as the two of you fucked into each other. Sloppy noises filled the room as you both moaned breathless puffs into the crisp air of the room. The quiet thrum of show still going on outside, bass reverberating and vibrating against the walls lost on the two of you.

Yuuta made sure to make a mess of you, pushing your knees up against your belly as he continued to pound into you, his painted nails and calloused hands digging into your flesh, his dark eyes peering down at you adoringly. You could only stupidly grasp at the leather beneath you, seeing stars every time his tip fucked the deepest parts of your guts.

He loved the way your pussy tightened around his cock, the view of him pulling out of you only to sink deeper and deeper into you. It was mesmerizing, the way your back arched above the couch and your hips found their way to meet his. He adored you, he adored you, he adored you.

“Ah, you’re so cute, so good for me. I’ve always dreamed of this,” he rasped, “You’re perfect.”

“Yuu— Yuuta,” you cried, “Feels good, feels so good.”

Yuuta’s fingers moved up your shirt to fondle at your tits, fingers playing with your hardened nipples while he drilled into your poor sopping cunt. You sobbed as your mouth went slack, drool pooling down your pretty lips. Your eyes rolling into your head. You think you look so stupid, Yuuta thinks you look like an angel.

Your cunt felt stretched to the brim, overstimulated to the point where all you could do is cum around his cock, your dripping pussy spazzing around his girth, a pool of slick coating him.

“Fuck, fuck— I’m never letting you go,” Yuuta groaned through clenched teeth. His pace only became more erratic, his hips working into you when he drops down to give you a gentle kiss despite him ravaging your body.

It wasn’t long until he was spilling himself into you, pressing deeply to make sure you got every last bit of his seed. His tongue and teeth swiping over your open mouth, as if he was fully trying to consume you whole. It made your heart skip a beat, your arms moving to caress the back of his neck, guiding him somehow even closer against you.

“I don’t know how to…” he started, his voice faltering, rough with the aftermath. His forehead pressed harder against yours, “I don’t know if I can ever let you go.”

“Then don’t,” you breathed, “I won’t let go, either.”

The intensity in his gaze deepened, something darker, something raw flashing behind his eyes. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair again as though he needed to feel the weight of you in his grasp to believe that this was real, that you were here with him. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

But you did. You did know. And that was why you wanted it even more.

“I do,” you said, your voice low but steady, filled with the same quiet urgency that had been building between you the whole night. “I do know. And I want this just as much as you do.”

Yuuta’s breath hitched again, his grip on you tightening as though your existence would evaporate before him. His eyes were dark and desperate, “You’re mine now,” he whispered, his voice so low it was barely audible, but there was no mistaking the possessiveness in his tone, the way his fingers dug into your skin as though he was marking you. “I really won’t let you go.”

You brightened at him, beaming, “I know.” You didn’t pull away. You didn’t hesitate. You belonged here.

Yuuta’s lips brushed against yours again, softer this time, more deliberate. His fingers curled into your skin as though he couldn’t get close enough. His breath was warm against your mouth, his body tense with the weight of everything he had been holding back.

You looked up at him, your breath shaky, your heart pounding in your chest, and you knew it too. You had felt it from the moment you had first seen him, the moment you had started following him, inexplicably drawn to him.

“You’re mine, too.”

#yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #dividers by @/dollywons #₊˚ 彡✩ ₊˚ writing #⋆୨✿୧⋆ jjk #⋆୨♡୧⋆ yuuta

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edgeray · 5 months ago

Note

hi, ray 💟

remember that siren!arle and pirate!reader idea? consider:

siren!arlecchino who preys on pirates lost at sea (not by coincidence, i fear). she doesn't enjoy them much, especially the men. then, she spots you. she's never seen such a pretty little pirate before! she must have you.

of course, she's fortunate enough that you're one of the ones who sits alone on the deck at night, foolishly stargazing while everyone else is tucked away in their beds.

she sings to you, calling you to her, trying to reel you in, only to find it isn't working. you seem to hear her, looking for the singer of the melody, but you're not quite entranced.

she keeps trying, only to eventually be spotted by you. she's... a little embarrassed, to say the least.

whatever else happens is up to you, or feel free to totally change the plot! ♡

The Sea's Calling

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Hi aris!!! Ty for the ask, and for being my first! <333 love you. I hope you like this one. Since it's my first ask, I'm a bit nervous. Is this semi-One Piece-inspired? Perchance. Wasn't sure if you wanted fem! or gn! reader, but considering your writing I chose fem! reader, though I tried to not reference reader as female as much as possible. I kind of didn't know what to do after they met, so I threw in some not so good dialogue :(. It is also 02:00 as I am writing this, and I'm supposed to wake up at 06:00. Quality dropped at the end because I am tired. This was not a good idea doing this tonight but whatever. Content warnings / info - implied fem! reader, monster x human, arle is ooc because she's a siren, 1.7k words

You had always thought that the sea was calling out for you; it's been your dream since you were young–to explore the vast ocean that this world had to offer, to be surrounded by nothing but the comforting waves, to be free. Being a pirate allowed you to fulfill your dreams. You went on all the adventures you wanted, stole whatever the hell you wanted, and all while doing that with your crew, who cherished each other, you included, like no other. Yes, you've longed for the ocean, and you'd like to think that the ocean was always trying to draw you in.

Still, when you meant that the sea was calling out for you, you meant in a figurative sense. Not in a literal sense. Though if this was the kind of sign the ocean was giving you, you might as well jump the ship.

—

Pretty gems came far and few in Arlecchino's eyes. Humans, lost at sea and lured in by her voice, were easy meals. She was rarely picky with her meals, sustenance was sustenance, she supposes, but still she finds it disappointing the lack of humans that were easy on her eyes. The seas were infested with brutish and crude-looking humans, particularly among the males. It is a shame that it's been a good while since she's seen a human female, with their fair bodies and their soft features– a suitable mate for her.

She wanders the sea again, not especially hungry, but if she finds a meal or two, she wouldn't have to find another for a few more days. Traveling through the waters, sniffing for the faint and familiar scent of human musk, she finds a ship soon, to her mild delight. She approaches the ship, it being smaller than most ships that wander this part of the ocean, but no matter. She is sure that she'd be able to snag at least one human tonight–there is bound to be one that is awake?

Peeking her head above the water, she observes the deck of the ship for any humans yet to have slumbered. Humans in slumber were always hard to lure in, but possible. Her eyes gleam when she spots a lone figure on the surface of the deck. It seems like tonight's hunt would prove to be easy. Nearing closer, however, the smell that comes from this figure is distinct to the usual humans she encounters. Though still reeking of the musk that all humans contain, the human contains a refreshing fauna smell and lacks the liquor aroma that most males contain. Curious, she nears the ship more until she can observe the distinct features of the human that sits so carelessly on the edge of their ship.

Her cold heart thumps like never before when she finally spots you, and oh, how she pauses in utter awe. A human whose beauty far surpasses that of any ivory pearl or glittering gold. Has there ever been a human more majestic than you? She would dismiss any notion of a human achieving flawlessness, but yet here you are, shredding her previous foolish thoughts. How do you attain such, so effortlessly? Oh, how fortunate for her to have decided to roam the sea tonight, for the ocean to have given her the most perfect mate in waiting. She must have you, no human male could ever treasure you like she can. She would give you the sea, if it made you hers.

And so she sings, her sweet song carrying into your ears like a gracious invite. She hopes for you to accept.

—

The stars are beautiful, you often think to yourself. It is another reason why you love being out in the sea. Directly underneath the stars, sometimes you feel that you're close enough to reach out and touch them. Little dancing specks of lights were all they were to you, and yet you were entranced each time. The stars and constellations have become one of your closest companions, always twinkling down on you regardless if you were facing soothing waves or warring riptides. Like so many nights before, you find yourself perched on one of the railings of the ship, simply gazing up, observing the midnight canvas that spans above you.

Is there something more beautiful than stars?

You find your answer that night when you hear a voice, melodic and sweet sounding, sugarier than any honey-coated treat. It piques you, as you know from the sound's direction it does not come from inside your ship, but beyond–somewhere in the waters. You'd imagine it's what people would describe as a voice from the heavens, because a light song fills the air, nearly entrancing you, however you're too busy searching the source of the sound for the intended effect to be inflicted on you. Instead of impelling your body to go overboard, you whip your head around, still seeking for the singer.

You've heard of instances like these. You've heard of the warnings: if you hear a beautiful song coming from the waters, you cover your ears and ignore it as much as possible. Though, many say that once you hear them, it is much too late for you. The fates of those who had fell for those voices, you know of them too well, and you intend not to share the same fate. You've heard that among those that were able to escape a siren's call, they're easily dissuaded after one song. All you had to do was to ignore the voice until the song's end.

The song ends soon after. You pay no mind as silence fills the void, just the sound of waves and the whistles of the wind as your company. But then, another song, the same one. After the second repeat, it starts again, and after that, another.

Were sirens this persistent? You've never heard of one this stubborn. But it is thanks to these songs that you're finally able to pinpoint the origins, and your eyes catch the slight glint of scales in the moonlight, and then the head of ivory hair. A pale face peaks from the water's currents, along with the tip of something–a tail, you discern. You gasp slightly once crimson-pupils land on yours, but then the head sinks down, like a shy animal having been caught.

Adorable. Was this an unfitting description of what was most likely a siren? You disregarded that very thought, instead, opting to wondering why this siren wanted your attention so much. After all, you should give her the respect of your acknowledgement of her existence after four songs.

Perhaps you were an idiot. Perhaps you were just heading straight to a gruesome death. But had those things stopped you previously, you would have never been out here, never would have been a pirate. Foolish curiosity may be the death of you, but not tonight. And so, like a pirate in search of their treasure, you take to the seas; in this case, literally into the sea. You let yourself lean backwards on the railing, arms outstretched by your side as you freefall into the sea.

Surely, if the siren wanted you so badly, then she would save you, wouldn't she?

The icy waters greet your form, and you shiver. Your breath is stolen away, and it is only you start sinking that you start to question your choice. You stare up, with only the moonlight reflecting off the water, your source of life and you instinctively reach out towards it. Your eyes burn from the brine, so you close your eyes, trying to combat the swallowing waves as you futilely flail your arms.

Something moves in the water, and before you know it, a weight presses against your chest, something distinctly cold and what you imagine scales to feel like, and something else slides underneath your arms, the texture much like human skin. You feel your body begin to rise, until the sudden rush of oxygen barrages at you, and you greedily inhale the air with heaving breaths, while coughing out the sea water from your throat. Once you're done hacking up your lungs, you crack open an eye, greeted with the same gorgeous face you saw earlier.

“You're beautiful…” The both of you say at the same time, and you feel your ears burn from the compliment. Her voice, deep and resounding, rings through your ears. Meanwhile, her expression visibly brightens, akin to the stars you adore so much.

“Y-you won't eat me, right?” You ask hesitantly, and to your relief, she shakes her head no. She pulls you closer, before nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck. The arms wrapped around your figure tightens, and so does the tail around your legs.

“No. Want to be my mate.” She says bluntly, and you feel sharp fangs prick your skin. You gasp, and she pulls her mouth away, deciding to lick your neck as a quick apology.

“Why me?”

“Pretty human. But stupid.”

“Hey!” You exclaim out of feigned annoyance, but then she purrs into your neck, the noise vibrating through your body. Sirens purr? That is adorable. “What does being a mate mean?”

“You are with me, forever. I feed you, protect you, love you, always. Mine, forever.”

A tempting offer, truly, especially with the way her clawed hands grip your sides so tenderly and the way she looks at you like you are her sun.

“But what about my companions?”

“You do not need them.”

“I do,” you assert, and her face falls. It's like being stabbed in the heart, seeing her expression like that. You raise both of your hands and cup her face.

“I want you,” she says, with as much of a whine as a siren can possibly make. It is cute, a mix between a cry and a groan.

“I need them too.”

“I am not enough?”

“I want to be free. I don't want to stay in one place.”

“Then I will follow,” the siren asserts, her red pupils ablaze with determination. It is as simple as that, apparently. “Can I?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you affirm with a nod. “Don't eat them either. Then I'll be yours.”

The siren nods, purring again. “My pretty human. Mine?”

You smile. “Yours.”

Salty lips are brought against yours and you've never been more elated–here is the freest you've ever felt.

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fic #genshin x reader #genshin x you #edgeray.writes #edgeray.requests #edgeray.answers

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nep-neptune-0 · 2 months ago

Text

5 AM

Xiangli Yao x Reader

Summary: You always had a habit of staying overnight at Huaxu Academy, tinkering away at your latest project; Xiangli Yao had a habit of visiting you for new ideas at the crack of dawn.

Content: fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n: immediately downloaded the game after seeing an edit of him, got him through the Moon-Chasing Festival event and now I'm writing fanfic for him, sorry if I didn't portray him correctly!! I'm new to the game lmao

A few quick knocks pulled you out of your flow. What was the time? You threw a quick glance at your clock, almost 5 a.m.. That marked the 3rd night you had spent in the workshop, tinkering on your new creation. You slid your safety goggles up to your hairline, trying to blink away the blur that had settled over your vision. You really should start using the ceiling lamp along with your workbench lamp, otherwise you’d risk deteriorating your vision.

Another sequence of knocks made you scramble up from the saddle stool, reminding you why you stopped your project in the first place. You were at the other side of the room at lightning speed. Your workshop was small, only enough to fit one relatively big table in the middle with a smaller one rammed up at the corner, decked out with tools and machines from your personal collection. The academy was generous enough to lend you various equipment, one of them being a large robotic arm with different functions that was attached to the bigger table, but you didn’t dare to use it unless it was for “serious work” as you liked to call it.

The door wailed when you pulled it open. You really should oil it like how Xiangli Yao had suggested–

“Hello.”

Oh.

Speak of the devil. It was always around this time he clocked into work. It was also around this time he visited your workshop, never failing to bring you breakfast, knowing you were more often than not neglecting your needs in pursuit of finishing your latest project.

Xiangli Yao had crashed into your life just as violently as your prototype had when it hit an unsuspected Spearback. You didn’t think anyone would catch you in the midst of your experiments, since you made sure to do it in the dead of night far, far away from the city. But he had, and he was kind enough to escort you back to the academy, buying you breakfast before that. He had asked you about your creations, and without really thinking you started talking about your passion for battle focused tools and gushed over previous projects like they were your children. Afterwards, you had thought it was the first and last time you would have any kind of interaction with the Principal Investigator, but before you knew it, he was outside your workshop, asking you if you were down to discuss ideas for the next modification on his prosthetic arm.

If you had thought a bit further, you probably would have questioned why he went to you specifically, a rookie, when there were an abundance of talented engineers and mechanics alike who could bring his ideas to life much more efficiently and with better quality. But you were too wrapped up in the excitement of creating something new you had ushered him inside, grabbing the only available chair that wasn’t on its last legs for him to sit on while you grabbed your notebook, eyes gleaming.

The added mod had been a success after shedding blood, sweat, and tears day and night. You got to witness it with your own eyes when he asked you to head out with him at the first sign of light. The sunlight had painted him golden, and suddenly you weren’t as focused on his prosthetic as much. His movements had you entranced, not even daring to breathe in case it would disturb the vision in front of you. And that damn smile he directed towards you after defeating the enemy fully stole your breath away. Xiangli Yao was an unfair man.

As thanks, he had gifted you a saddle stool made of leather for your posture (though you still hunched over the desk like a shrimp) and for the fact your previous chair was merely a wooden one that would disintegrate at any given moment. You thought that would be it, but of course he defied your expectations and showed up a few weeks later, breakfast in hand with another idea. From then on he seemed to be keen on consulting you about potential modifications, ranging from battle focused ones to the more silly ones, like his ice maker that you had the honor to partake in creating. And before you knew it, he started spending some rare days in your workshop instead of his office, typing away and doing what scholars do while you were working on all different kinds of projects.

You had to admit you had developed a soft spot for the Principal Investigator during the times you spent together. You could never pinpoint when his visits started feeling like a part of your routine, or when you started looking forward to those moments. And somewhere along the way, you stayed behind just to catch him before you headed home, something you’d never admit to anyone or anything.

“I saw your light was on, so I thought to swing by before going to my office. I bought some Huanglong omelets–” he handed you a paper bag “–I also have an idea for a modification we could add to my prosthetic.”

That spurred you to pull out papers and different colors of pens, spreading them out on the bigger table before turning the ceiling lamp on. He had already started sketching before you even got an omelet in your mouth.

You seated yourself on your chair and rolled to the other side of the table, eyes tracking every swipe of his hand to see the idea bloom on paper. His newest idea was battle oriented. Specifically some kind of tool that could give him the opportunity to snare and damage multiple opponents at once. You weren’t sure what went on in his head for such brilliant ideas to form, but you thanked the dragons out there for letting you witness it so intimately.

As he was sketching, he described his thought process, pausing sometimes to glance up at you for feedback, but you were busy stuffing your cheeks with omelet, barely able to sound out coherent sentences.

Before long you had finished your breakfast, energized and ready to give some ideas yourself. You bounced ideas between each other.

“For this,” Xiangli Yao circled one of his scribbles, “we can add a tool akin to a black hole that will detonate on the enemy I defeated, gathering the rest of them in one place while I’m charging up for an attack. I have an idea on what material we can use…”

You were absolutely starstruck.

“Xiangli Yao, the man you are.” You climbed on the table, crawling a short distance to get closer to him before rising to your knees and cupping his face in your hands, slightly shaking his head back and forth. “I’m sure you’ve heard this more than enough– but you are a genius.”

A faint hue of pink dusted over his cheeks, and it was only then you realized how close you were to him.

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Sorry I got carried away–”

Your panic was interrupted by the chill of his metal hand settling over yours. He looked up at you with such puppy eyes that were swirling with an indescribable emotion you wondered how you never noticed.

Before you knew it, his other hand settled on the back of your head, and you were pulled down.

His lips were soft.

The sheer gentleness he treated you with sent electricity crackling in your veins. Your eyes fell shut and you could hear your heart beating in your ears. Your free hand slid down to the back of his neck, fingertips lightly brushing against the hair before it found a place on his shoulder, and you didn’t miss the way he quivered under your touch.

Xiangli Yao parted with a sigh, eyes fluttering open to unabashedly stare at your face. He intertwined your hands, cool metal palm against the back of your warm hand, and raised it to his lips. Then he pecked your cheek, your forehead, your eyelids, before finally giving you another delicate kiss on your lips.

“Can’t believe I didn’t do this sooner,” he murmured when he pulled away. You exhaled a laugh.

“I can’t believe it either– oh shit!” You quickly clambered off the table with his help. “I hope I didn’t ruin any of the sketches…”

“Even if you did, we can just remake them,” he declared nonchalantly. “Honestly, I would gladly let you ruin my research papers if I get to take you out on a date.”

“You don’t mean that!” you gasped. “You can do that without ruining your work.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t planning on it, don't worry. I’m gonna head to my office now. Just give me a call if you have any other ideas.”

“Will do, will do.”

“I’ll come pick you up at 6 pm today.” He gave you a quick kiss before making his way to the door. “See you then.”

You were left a blushing mess in your workshop, now a new project and a date in your hands.

Xiangli Yao was truly an unfair man.

#wuthering waves x reader #wuwa x reader #wuthering waves x you #wuwa x you #wuwa xiangli yao #wuthering waves xiangli yao #xiangli yao #xiangli yao x reader #xiangli yao x you

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whateverisbeautiful · 3 months ago

Text

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#37: The Good Kind Heart (1.04)

gif cred: @kimwexlersponytail

This scene right here just exudes warmth and I love it so much. 🥰 It was food for the soul seeing Richonne all cuddled up like they've always loved to do. And best of all, it was great to see them finally having a heartwarming conversation about their baby 🥹...

Danai wrote some of the best dialogue since The Walking Dead’s prime. It’s excellent and her pen was especially on fire in the remainder of this bedroom scene, featuring my favorite Richonne content ever. 🔥

Like a lengthy scene with just Rick and Michonne in bed and fantastic dialogue - that is my exact cup of tea and I see exactly why it was said that this episode was for us. And it's for anyone who enjoys quality content too. 😊

So first; the visual of Rick and Michonne holding hands in bed just instantly makes me so happy. 🥰 I love how they feel right at home being back in each other's arms. And it's sweet seeing them be so at peace even despite the fact that this building is on the verge of going down. Again, when they're together the world and crumbling buildings can wait. 👌🏽

And I’ve always said it cuz it’s always been true - in each other's arms is where these two are most meant to be. 😌

Then, it never fails to elate me to hear that the first thing Rick says is, “He looks like me?” 🥲 Now there is the man I know who would absolutely want to talk about his son.😊 And it’s so cute the content way he says it.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

I love that he asks this question specifically too. Because RJ really is his mini-me and it’s like he’s getting this joy in knowing that he definitely contributed to that little boy even if he hasn’t been around to raise him.

Michonne laughs when he asks because she knows RJ is Rick’s little twin. And then Rick makes Michonne laugh again when he teases, “So he’s really good-looking?” 😊

First - I love seeing Richonne back to laughing and being lighthearted. Second; there’s never been a cuter couple ever. They're just perfect together inside and out. Third; it always tickles me that Danai wrote something that acknowledges how attractive Rick/Andy is lol. I mean, the fineness needed to be recognized. 😌

gif cred: @riickgrimes

It is so sweet the way Rick’s face lights up when he makes Michonne laugh and how she’s always just so smitten by him.

Another thing I always love seeing in this moment is just how comfy Michonne seems. Like she just appears so gorgeously glowy and relaxed and like she’s been able to return to herself in a new way after their moment of intimacy. And a lot of that is because her safe space is back. 🥲

gif cred: @perryabbott

And now that he's stopped trying to act like what they have is broken, Rick also just seems so refreshingly relaxed and released from at least a little bit of the pain he'd been carrying.

Michonne answers him saying, “It’s nuts how much he looks like you. Save for the light brown skin it’s hard to tell I had anything to do with it - Oh but he does have my eyes.” This is the Richonne parents' content I signed up for! 🙌🏽

gif cred: @riickgrimes

I adore seeing Rick and Michonne finally get to just talk as RJ’s mom and dad and happily chat about the features they gave their baby. 😭

gif cred: @riickgrimes

And I feel like TWD and TOWL def gave enough indication that Michonne’s eyes are one of Rick’s favorite things so I love that he gets to learn that his son has her eyes. I’m just beaming watching how precious this whole exchange is.🥰

gif cred: @riickgrimes

I love how attentive Rick is as she tells him about their son and how Michonne always has such a radiance about her when speaking about her kids.

And then Rick, knowing who RJ is made up of, has a strong feeling he knows one of his son’s traits when he asks/says, “And he’s stubborn?” I love the way he asks it like he already knows the answer. 😋

gif cred: @riickgrimes

And Michonne’s face again lights up as she immediately nods and says, “Just like his daddy, yes.” So so so cute. 🥹

I love the melodic way she says it and the way Rick instantly laughs because even tho he knows he was asking based on who RJ’s mom is, he also knows she’s right about him being stubborn.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

You can very visibly see how much Rick likes hearing that his son is just like his daddy.

But then it becomes even cuter when Rick says, “Like his mama” and kisses Michonne's shoulder. Y’all, 🫠.

Inject this whole moment into my veins, please. Their smiles here are everything and hearing them call each other RJ’s daddy and mama. The absolute best. 😭

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Rick’s “like his mama” with the shoulder kiss and Michonne’s smile live rent-free in my head for real. I love it. They’re so tender and warm with each other even when teasing and it’s perfect. Andy and Danai really made every right choice in this entire scene. 🤩

I adore how Rick and Michonne both think the other is stubborn but that they so clearly love that about each other. And it’s true - Richonne is stubborn as all get out which was clear throughout this episode especially. But it works because with each other they’re always willing to eventually meet each other where they’re at.

In season 10, Michonne told Ezekiel that she and him wouldn't have worked out because they’re both too stubborn and I remember back then thinking 'Rick is stubborn too tho'...but Rick and Michonne’s brand of stubbornness actually complements each other well.

(And Rick is stubborn but 99% of the time he's not stubborn with Michonne 😋)

Richonne basically survived that CRM helicopter crash because of their stubbornness - Rick being stubborn about getting Michonne home alive led him to talk to her cash crazy which then led Michonne, who was stubborn about not leaving without him, to yank them both out of the helicopter.

And even tho RJ didn’t have many scenes in TWD I feel like his adorable stubbornness was still hinted at occasionally. Like how Daryl told Michonne that RJ was refusing to eat his vegetables.

And this year I saw a s11 clip where RJ covers for Judith and the little guy will not spill his big sister's whereabouts. It’s cute. 😊 He gets his stubbornness from both his parents.

Also, I like how knowing RJ is stubborn and good-looking is how Rick most knows this is a Richonne baby. Those are two strong qualities Rick and Michonne both possess lol. And I love that Rick already seems like such a proud dad over RJ and proud knowing that his son's mom is Michonne. 🥰

gif cred: @nat111love

After years of wanting to see Rick and Michonne joyfully talk about their kid it was so so special to see that finally play out here.

And then this scene was already giving me everything I wanted with Richonne being all happy, playful, and snuggly while talking about their baby boy, and then it gets just a million times sweeter when Michonne then turns toward him and softly says, “He does have your good kind heart though. That’s what reminds me the most of you.” Absolutely Beautiful. 🥹

Like the visual with Richonne wrapped in each other's arms and their faces so close together, the words, the delivery, the lighting, the moment, all just so beautiful. 👏🏽

gif cred: @riickgrimes

I adore hearing Michonne tell Rick that their son has his heart. And the Richonne tones are back in full force which you know I’m always here for. It’s also so powerful for Michonne to say this cuz there were a few moments in this episode where Rick’s good kind heart was MIA but Michonne never stopped believing in his heart.

She knows that his good kind side is still in there because it can’t help but show itself like in the moments Rick would check on her while they were running through the building.

It’s also so sweet that this means whenever Michonne would see RJ being good and kind, she would see Rick. 😭

And Michonne has an extremely good kind heart too but she loves Rick so much that for her she feels like RJ got that heart from her husband. 🥲

She says it so sincerely too and it’s clear Rick’s good kind heart is something she loves most about him and her son. Me too. 🙋🏽‍♀️

And seeing Michonne smile as she shares this, the love for her boys is so evident. When she says it too it just feels like something she’s been longing to tell Rick for years - That their son has his heart.

I adore that Rick gets to know that while he and Michonne have been apart, she hasn’t been entirely without him because every day she got to wake up to his little mini-me who had his smile, stubbornness, and most of all, and best of all, his good kind heart. She still had a piece of Rick’s heart, flesh, and blood with her. RJ is such a gift. 🥹

It’s also so sweet to then see Rick’s response to his wife’s beautiful words about him and their son. The way Rick looks at Michonne after she says this, you know he heard the ‘I love you’ in her words.

I really get the sense that Rick too is moved by how much Michonne loves and believes in his good kind heart even despite some of his previous treatment this ep. There’s a reason Rick’s dreams constantly reminded him of Michonne’s belief in him because she really does support and believe in him like no other.

So then another top tier Richonne moment occurs when Rick then raises up and pulls Michonne closer to him as they share this precious look and have their most precious kiss. 😍 Like to say I adore this whole moment is an understatement.

I of course always love Richonne’s hungry make-out sessions but something about those sweet and simple single kisses is just as mesmerizing. 🤩

And this one here - I call it the “Baby, we made a baby” Kiss, because the way Rick and Michonne look at each other and smile and then have this tender kiss, it just feels like a moment of them sharing in the joyous acknowledgment that they really did have that baby they dreamed about.

I love how as Rick pulls her closer before the kiss she like softly hits his chest. Then I really love the way they look at each other after the kiss. It is just sweetness personified to see them both be so taken by each other and present in this moment. 😍

Rick is in full lover-boy mode the way he smiles at her, bites his lip a little, and rubs her stomach. I loved seeing that movement after he didn’t get a chance to be there to rub her stomach during the pregnancy. 🥲 In this moment it just feels like he’s so aware and appreciative that Michonne carried his child.

gif cred: @nat111love

And Michonne’s smile up at him. 🥹 Just so much love communicated. Also, I always love that the bullet casing can be seen in her hair. After all those years of finding these little ways to stay close to Rick, now here he is with her in this bed as close as can be. Won’t He Do It. 🙌🏽

And then y’all, since they’re always in sync they’re both ready for a hot and heavy round two when they go in for that second kiss. 😏

gif cred: @lousolversons

I love how quickly they’re ready to match each other's energy with Rick starting to lift the sheet off her and Michonne putting her hands in his hair before reaching down somewhere and wrapping her legs around him which...

That second kiss is instantly hot and they are both fully ready to go another round…but then a hilarious interruption occurs when that roomba comes riding in with its beeping noises. And Rick’s startled reaction is comedy. 😂

gif cred: @taiturner

Michonne thinks Rick’s reaction to the cleaning device is humorous too as she lifts up and laughs, explaining to her country-boy husband that it’s just a Roomba. Rick looks straight up bewildered as Michonne tells him about Roombas and what they do.

And of course, the modern city girl Michonne had one herself from before. I love even learning little details like this about Michonne’s pre-ZA life. 😊

Like anytime Michonne drops a new detail about her life before, even about cleaning tools she used to own, my extra self is always intrigued and all-ears like...

Michonne says, “That explains why it’s so spotless” as she gives Rick another amused look and lays back down. It’s cute how you can tell she finds his perplexity cute here. 😋

And so while the Roomba distracted them from another round a bit, there still could have been hope of them maybe picking up where they left off…but then this next conversation happens and we’re reminded Richonne still has a whole lot to unpack. 🤕

As for this good kind heart scene tho - Perfection. Loved every second of it and it just portrayed so much of what makes Richonne such a beautiful pairing. 👏🏽 Seeing Rick and Michonne have this lovely moment as RJ’s parents was sublime and I’ll forever adore this heartwarming exchange. 🥹👌🏽

#richonne #towl #reveling in richonne #1.04 #RIR (37)#the ones who live #twd towl #michonne grimes #rick grimes #rick x michonne #twol #michonne #rick and michonne #twd: the ones who live #twd #richonnefandom

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deandoesthingstome · 1 year ago

Text

Gothic Fantasy

Pairing: Vampire!August x Reader

Summary: Are you in over your head, little girl?

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, exhibitionism, oral sex (m and f receiving), spanking, p in v (doggy style), anal toy/anal sex, dom!August, Sir and princess, monster fucking (which involves at least one bite, right?).

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

You took your time with a little extra research, but the ancient myth vibe of the story you created out of your experience with Sy was a hit and your werewolf!boyfriend tale had been picking up steam thanks to the upcoming holiday. Subscriptions were rolling in which left you both excited and anxious.

sendmeanangel: i have enough to cover at least two more stays even if nothing more comes in at this point MNstrluvr: how could nothing more come in? sendmeanangel: look, i’m having a great time, but at some point in my life i should probably stop paying for monster sex and get a boyfriend, right? darkgothnightengale: that time doesn’t have to be right now. Besides, how will you ever go back to some regular guy? sendmeanangel: very funny. This can’t be a sustainable way to go through life. I just worry people will start feeling like they are owed new monster fucking tales every week because they subscribed to read the ones already out there. I don’t want to let people down or make them think they got played somehow MNstrluvr: what if when you get to the point where you think you're through, you make that clear to any new subscribers? And just because you aren’t fucking a new monster at the hotel every week doesn’t mean you can’t keep writing amazing stories that your followers will love darkgothnightengale: you can write whatever you want when you want. There’s nothing on the site that promises content on any kind of consistent basis and people can always stop subscribing if they feel cheated, which is stupid because they are still getting quality content. you have a voice that people like to read. It doesn’t have to be about shapeshifters or vampires sendmeanangel: speaking of which MNstrluvr: YES!!! I’m so glad you decided to try him next. I cannot wait. He looks so fucking hot sendmeanangel: yeah, well walter continues to be completely booked. besides, they all look fucking hot lol MNstrluvr: there’s just something even more dangerous in his eyes. He looks totally unhinged. In a good way. darkgothnightengale: the best way sendmeanangel: you guys are crazy

“It's lovely to see you again. Thank you for signing the T&C online this time. I hope you had a chance to look through the extra restrictions on this room. It's very important that they are adhered to.”

Were you being called out? Did the hotel somehow know your two previous hosts had broken rules for you? Hopefully no one was getting into trouble.

“We simply don't want any mishaps,” as if in answer to the questions swirling in your mind. Though it still didn't tell you if they knew.

The desk clerk handed you another heavy iron key. Where the mechanism to open the forest room last month had been fairly plain and rustic, this one was filled with intricate lacy patterns. You wanted to snap a picture of the antique gothic skeleton key and send it to your online friends but decided it might be too much like bragging. After all, this would be the third fantasy visit they'd talked you into. Not that you needed much prodding anymore. That they couldn't partake in reality was making you feel bad, no matter how happy for you your friends said they were.

You made your way down the hall after exiting the elevator and stopped before the heavy wooden arched door full of intricately carved details that matched the key in your hand. The room was dark when you stepped in, but before you could reach for a light switch, a deep voice spoke from across the room, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

"You're late."

"I only just checked in."

"And no apology, I see. It's five after. We were to start on the hour. I assumed that was clear, but maybe I'll need to remind you of the importance of punctuality during our time together."

A finger snap sounded from the place in the dark where you heard the voice and flames lit up a fireplace nearby. Your eyes were drawn there, hoping the glow of the flame would illuminate your host, but no one appeared. All you saw was the carved stone of the mantle and wrought iron candelabras filled with fat pillars that were lighting one by one as if by magic as well.

As the warm light began to bathe the room, you felt a rush of air behind you and heard the door to the room slam shut. You turned to see nothing again, though you heard the click of a lock.

"Did you at least come prepared?" the voice sounded near your ear, though again, no one was to be seen as you spun once more to face into the room.

"I did," you answered into the space in front of you, even as you peered left and right. Where the fuck was he?

“Right here,” he spoke from behind you again, and this time you could see as well as feel the hands that gripped your upper arms and held you tight against the solid form behind you. You glanced at the fingers curled around your biceps and licked your lips, thinking of where you’d rather have them. Caressing your face. Around your throat. Thrust deep inside…”Before we get there, I believe you owe me an apology.”

And now you had a choice. How would that apology go? Remain standing like an insolent brat or kneel to the man you wanted to dominate you this evening? Not that he wouldn’t dominate the brat as well, but maybe you didn’t need it to be so demanding this first time. His fingers loosened as you began to turn toward him but you sunk to your knees before you saw his face, so it wasn’t until you lifted your chin to plead forgiveness that you had the opportunity to drink him in.

He was dressed in sharp black pants with a crisp crease down the front of each leg. A neatly pressed black button up shirt with french cuffs and mother of pearl links sat behind a black silk brocade vest with mother of pearl buttons. In the light, you couldn’t tell for sure, but the pattern in the vest seemed to match the key as well. A blood-red silk tie paired with a handkerchief peeking from the front of his jet black jacket that set off his broad shoulders nicely and was buttoned at the right height to taper his waist.

But his face. You inhaled to keep yourself steady before you spoke the words requesting his forgiveness. The calming breath helped you take in more of his visage without fainting on the spot.

His jawline was strong. And unlike the fuller beards of Walter or Sy, this man’s facial hair consisted of a five o’clock shadow and a neatly trimmed mustache. His dark hair was swept back to the side, though you could tell if he hadn’t styled it perfectly, the curl would take over. You’d love to see it sometime. Maybe even tonight.

What caught your breath in your throat was his piercing blue eyes and it took you a few moments to realize he was laughing at you. You had to fight to gain control from his mesmerizing gaze, but before you could ask him to repeat himself, he already was.

“I said," Apology accepted” and you can stand now, princess. Show me what you came with.” He helped you to stand, then drew his hand down your arm as he took a step back. He dropped your hand and motioned toward you before he crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head as if to say “go ahead now.”

You took a deep breath, suddenly unsure if you’d made the right ensemble choice. Though it matched his outfit perfectly somehow, you were hesitant to bare so much to him so soon. But there was no turning back now. Well, of course there was, but you didn’t want to. At best, you could imagine excusing yourself to use the restroom and changing into a different outfit.

You undid the belt on your long, black trench coat, then popped the buttons one by one until you could open the flaps and shrug the coat off your shoulders and down your arms. You were about to let it drop to the floor, but something made you stop and hold the fabric in your hands at your sides.

“May I take your coat?” he asked like the gentleman he was portraying, holding out a hand and you reached it over to him, before smoothing your hands down the body of your black strapless gown, worrying away the non-existent wrinkles. A few blood-red rose embellishments nestled strategically into the delicate embroidery woven along the sheer black lace bodice of the dress, your bare skin visible only in the spots where no design was found. You released the clasps attaching the hem of the dress to the waist and allowed the full length of the black silk skirt to flow to the ground. It sported a trail of matching but larger floral adornments cascading in spiral from one hip across the front and down the other side. With the matching red silk pumps, you were a vision. You felt a rush of air and as you lifted your gaze from your dress back to him, your coat seemed to have disappeared, because it was no longer in his hands. And the look on his face told you you’d made the right choice.

“You look ravishing.” At his words of praise you forgot all about where your coat might have gotten off to.

“Is this okay?”

“If this is the attire you wished to begin in, then it’s perfect. We’ve already lost so much precious time with your late arrival.”

You stood silent, unsure if he was asking for another apology. It seemed like a bad idea to let him actually ask before you offered another, but your voice was stuck in your throat, so taken were you by his demeanor. It turned out you were wrong to wait.

“I don’t like to ask for apologies, but trust that I will whenever they are warranted. Hopefully, you’ll begin to know when you’ve crossed a line. I suppose technically, you have already apologized, so I won’t ask for another. This time.” At the admonishment, you dropped your gaze to the floor with embarrassment. “I also ask your forgiveness for my rudeness. So many lessons you’re learning already and you don’t even know my name yet. Allow me to correct that. My name is August Walker and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance finally.”

What did he mean by finally? Here, now, in this room when he finally shared his name and lifted your arm to kiss the back of your hand? Or had he heard stories about you too?

“May I add something to your ensemble?” You could practically hear the subtle tilt of his head in question.

“Of course,” you replied, willing your nerves to allow you to look up at him again.

“It's only, well, you look so delicious. I'm afraid I'll need a reminder, or rather, a deterrent.” His hands raised, something appearing between his fingers as if from nowhere. You noticed a wide band of heavy black embroidered ribbon with metal clasps at each end. Your chin tilted almost involuntarily to allow him room to place the choker around your neck.

“You don’t want to…?” Was he not going to bite you? Did you make a mistake by not actually reading the T&C when you signed, scrolling quickly to the end of the form and checking the box as fast as you could to make sure the room wasn’t swiped from under you before you’d had a chance to complete the online booking.

“I never said that,” he replied, stepping in closer as he traced a finger around one side of your neck, down over your collarbone, and stopping just at the valley between your breasts.

“Is there a rule you’re afraid of breaking with me?” you asked, craning to bring your lips closer to his.

“I don't break the rules darling, I make them.” August returned his hand to your neck, stilling your advancement with the smallest effort.

“Well then, are you unable to actually bite me?” you asked, not sure whether you wanted him to consider this a question that crossed the line.

“Oh, I'm free to bite when and where you want. Many foolishly ask for the neck. In those moments, I usually oblige.”

“But…” you began.

“But there is a sweeter spot, more delicate, most delicious. This,” he let his finger run along the material around your throat, ”will help me make the better choice for both of us.”

You drew in a quick breath through your nose, causing a shudder in your shoulders as you realized you’d been holding your breath while he hinted at where he’d prefer to bite you. You’d chosen the dress specifically because it bared so much of your body near your neck that you’d hoped he couldn’t help but want to taste you. You foolishly never considered how much more bare you’d need to be before he was able to see the spot he wanted.

His dark chuckle unnerved you, but he quelled your apprehension with an invitation to join him at the dinner table. You’d completely forgotten that this experience had promised an evening meal, but honestly you assumed that was just some clever play on words. That you were to be the meal. He escorted you to a corner of the room near the fireplace, where a sumptuous feast had been set, and deposited you on one side of the table before taking a seat across from you.

“Would you care for some wine this evening?”

“Wine sounds lovely,” you answered, suddenly curious if he’d be drinking and eating with you. You watched as he lifted a decanted red and filled your glass, only to replace the crystal container onto the table before pouring a glass of his own from a dark brown glass bottle. He lifted his glass to toast your evening.

You watched carefully as he brought the goblet to his lips and drank, noticing that no obvious fangs appeared as he opened his mouth, though his canines did seem a little longer than you were used to. At least until recently that was. The men at this hotel all seemed to have been genetically gifted with glorious canine teeth and you weren’t complaining in the least.

“Now, what can I offer you to eat?” Cut fruit sat in open bowls alongside a tray of sliced meats and cheeses. He began to lift the covers off several porcelain serving dishes, revealing chicken and beef dishes, as well as vegetables and roasted potatoes. At your hesitancy, he smiled, as if extremely pleased, and continued. “Or would you prefer I choose for you?”

“I’d like it very much if you would recommend something. It all looks so wonderful.”

“Would you pass me your plate?” You obliged and he ladled servings of a few of the dishes. You noted with curiosity that he was choosing everything you would have chosen for yourself and none of the items you’d already determined you didn’t want to try, though you hadn’t said a word.

You thanked him as he handed your plate back and he invited you to begin, which you did. Because he’d asked you to. As you took your first bite, you moaned at the taste in your mouth and you thought you saw him lick his lips. What you didn’t see him do was serve himself.

“Is it to your liking then?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s delicious, thank you August…may I call you August?”

“For now. Now, what shall we talk about at this very civilized dinner we’re having together?” he asked, as he leaned back in his chair, goblet in one hand, as the fingers of the other drew lazy circles on the tablecloth.

“Can we talk about how it doesn’t appear you're actually going to be eating with me?” You knew it was a bold question, but you still wanted to needle him a little, see where the line was.

“You see, it’s the insolence I mind. Not the question. There is a way to go about asking what you want to know without making it seem like you are trying to anger me. Or are you? Hmm?”

“I’m sorry, August,” you spoke as you placed your fork down. You had a sudden, unfortunate thought. What if you weren’t the only one who could call the whole thing off? What if your hosts had just as much right to pull out a safeword and end the liaison? You supposed, even though you were paying for the pleasure, they had to have a say in things as well. Otherwise, they were just…the thought made you shudder and not in a good way. “I am truly sorry. That was rude of me. Are you able to eat with me?”

“I am not. But I’m more than happy to enjoy your company and a more pleasant conversation while you dine. If you agree, of course.”

“Of course. Please, can we start over?”

“Pick up your fork and take a bite,” he commanded. “Continue your meal. And consider what you would like to talk about.” He took another drink and watched you with deeply penetrating eyes.

The meal was delicious and you finally figured out a topic of conversation that was neither too personal nor banal. When you made him laugh, you felt a small weight lift off your shoulders, as if his heavy and dark demeanor had made you nervous that this choice of hotel hosts was a mistake.

You had always been a bit enthralled with vampires. Loved reading Dracula both as published and in chronological order, as you’d heard about on Tumblr. Enjoyed the myriad of cinematic adaptations of the tale, especially the ones that played up the sensuality of the character. You really never imagined them to be real, but then again, you didn’t think werewolves or minotaurs were real either. For a brief moment, you thought back to your previous visits, letting your fork trail down with a slow descent.

“Finished?” he asked when your utensil hit the plate, eyebrow raised in question as he leaned forward preparing to scoot his chair back from the table. Before you’d even finished your nod, he was at your chair, easing it away from the table and offering you a hand to help you up.

“I think it’s quite time to get started on the rest of your lessons. Would you step to the window please?”

You turned and noticed the thick, black velvet curtains and assumed they must cover a window. You were commanded to open them, and you did, peering out into practical darkness only to see your reflection in place of any scenery. You glanced to the side of your image when you felt the fingertips at the top of your zipper, but though you knew they were attached to arms, attached to a body that was pressed right against you, adding more drag to his knuckles against your skin as he pulled the zipper down, you saw nothing in the mirrored window that would tell you another being was in the room with you.

You gasped, but he mistook it for shyness.

“I like to show off my conquests to whomever may be passing by below. We’re far enough up that no one could make out a face, but the body they’ll see,” he finished unzipping your dress and pushed it down your sides, letting it drop to a puddle of fabric at your feet. “The hint of red from these barely there panties, the silhouette of these curves.” You could feel but still not see his hands running up and down the sides of your body, his hands gripping your thighs before traveling up to cup your breasts. You watched as they bounced lightly in the reflection and smirked back at where you assumed his face would be before licking your matte red lips.

Your concentration was broken for a brief moment at the far off sound of a melancholy howl, but August didn’t let you linger on the thought. He spun you around to him and pressed you back toward the window, where you hissed when your ass came into contact with the chilly pane. How he missed the clink against the window, you’ll never know.

Then he caught your attention and you lost all concern for how exposed or cold your body might be at the moment. The change was practically imperceptible. One moment, he held your gaze with his dark and stormy eyes. In the next blink, his eyes burned red and held you rapt as he began to grin. Slowly, as his lips drew back, the fangs descended and you could swear you heard a faint click.

You probably let out a whimper when you saw him run his tongue along the sharp points and you definitely tilted your head on impulse, forgetting for a moment that he had already refused to take you there.

“I’d like you on your knees, please,” he asked, a little nicer than you imagined he had reason to be. Once you had obliged, he returned to commands. “Take me out.”

You did so gladly and without delay. Every assumption you made turned out to be right. He was just as well endowed as your other hosts, at least in human form. Which was nothing to sneeze at and you certainly weren’t kicking it out of bed.

You feasted on him as if you hadn’t just already eaten and you were happy to hear the sounds from him that told you he was enjoying it. And then he spoke to you.

“You like sucking on this cock, where everyone can see you, don’t you?”

Truth be told, it had never occurred to you before. But there was an exhibitionism option on the registration form and you clicked it in a moment of audacity. He was simply giving you what you had asked for, right? It would feel this way for any guest he had in this room, right? That feeling of being out of control while technically being in the most control? You wanted him to take it.

“Yes,” you gasped as you pulled your head back for air before diving forward to take him down your throat again.

“I knew that you would. You like being naughty, don’t you?”

You bobbed your head up and down as you looked up at him, praying he didn’t make you take him out of your mouth just so he could hear you answer verbally. Your prayers were not answered.

“I asked you a question. Would you care to answer? Now? You know how I feel about punctuality, I trust.”

“Yes. Yes August, I’m sorry. I do. I really do like being naughty with you.”

Another howl sounded, closer this time and you thought you detected the slightest of eye rolls before August got stern again, reaching down to take hold of your upper arm and lifting you to your feet with ease.

“You’re going to call me Sir from here on out and you’re going to be naughty another way now. First, close the curtains.” He spun you around so you could grab hold of the panels and draw them towards one another. You thought you glimpsed a pair of eyes, a deep glowing amber flame in the night before you shut out the world for good for the moment.

August pulled you close and whispered in your ear, “I’ll open them again if you want, if you didn’t get enough of a taste of that. I’ll take that as far as you want to go. But you should know,... he’ll see.”

It both excited you and made you afraid. Afraid of the feelings you knew had been stirring for weeks now. And yet, you were here. In this room. With this man. As much as you thought about what might be, you also knew you wanted to experience what you could. So you’d never have to doubt or question, because you knew you’d be getting the best in the end. Could it really ever be that way? Could he ever feel the same?

“I’m good. Thank you. That’s really kind of you,” you blinked, bringing yourself back to this moment. To August. “Sir.”

“That might be the last time tonight I will be. Are you ready for that?”

“Yes, Sir” you answered, with no more doubt.

August took you in his arms and kissed you deep and hard, one time, before he turned you by your shoulders and gave you a firm slap on the ass. “Into the bedroom.” The ‘now” at your hesitation was punctuated with another sharp crack and you were wet, there was no doubt about it.

The hotel suite was bathed in sheer red curtains, over the window, over the ornate gothic canopy bed, draped down the black walls. Tall black metal candelabras held glowing candles to light the room. Hooks and straps and rings attached to the walls in various spots held your attention for a brief moment. You hadn’t checked that box, and now you wondered why not.

You could only see yourself trying a few new things at once.

These things tonight would be a vampire. And you’d already exposed yourself. Only one more to go, and the bondage wasn’t going to be it.

August turned you back towards him when you reached the foot of the bed, then proceeded to undress. You watched enthralled as he unbuttoned his jacket, the vest, his shirtsleeves, his shirt. You watched as it all came off, one piece at a time, designed to torture you, you were sure of it. He was fucking with you. Keeping you from seeing everything all at once.

You bit your lip, but all you wanted to say was ‘i’ve seen your dick already it’s been in my mouth please give it back.’

He finally did, ordering you to the bed on your hands and knees as he stepped his fully naked body toward you, halting at the foot of the bed to grab your head and stuff his cock right down your throat. Like he’d heard what you thought.

You moaned around him, squeezing your thighs together for friction as you gyrated your hips and bobbed your head back and forth along his length. It would take barely nothing, just the slightest touch, if he would just, yeah, just…

“Oh, you did come prepared, didn’t you?”

You moaned again when you felt his fingers slide over your ass and pause to rub against the handle of the largest teardrop plug you owned. It came in a set of three, black silicone with a shiny red crystal in each handle. Up until this week, you'd only ever used the smallest while alone, but decided you needed to be ready and so had worked your way up to the largest just last night.

“Yes, Sir,” you pulled off and answered quickly, eager to get back to sucking his large member.

“What are you prepared for?” He wiggled the handle a little when he asked.

“For you to fuck my ass, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he slapped a cheek again, then smoothed his hand over the sting and down in the dip to find your aching pussy and just like you knew it would, his touch lit you on fire. He had the wherewithal to slide your thong to the side and angle two fingers so you could press back into them on your withdrawal from his dick and pull away from them, though he’d chase, on your approach. You fucked back into his hand like you were possessed and you came once more because you definitely were.

This man owned you. For tonight anyway. He could do whatever he wanted to you and you wouldn’t say no. No way in hell.

He pulled away and turned you to face the other direction, ass waving in the space directly in front of him as you imagined and wished and hoped he’d just fuck you, please very much. He chuckled and you blinked, imagining you’d seen him now standing at the nightstand, now right behind you again. You felt him pull your underwear all the way off. And you heard the crinkle of the wrapper and you felt him slide two fingers back inside you, felt him rub the pads of his fingers along your inner walls and you felt him find the right spot, the one that released more lubrication which he gladly gathered on his finger and smeared all over his sheathed cock before he pressed himself into you.

He fucked you for a bit before he spoke again.

“I’m going to give you what you want me to give you, and then you’re going to give me what you want to give me.” With a slap on your ass, he pulled out, grabbed your hips and flipped you to your back. You watched him discard the condom before he climbed on to the bed and stepped his knees between your legs, nudging you further up the bed so that he could lay his body on the mattress, his head on your thigh, peering at your puffy pussy.

“Yeah, she’s gorgeous,” he murmured, dipping his head down to take a taste. His tongue trailed through your folds and as his lips closed you felt a hint of the scrape of his teeth against your delicate skin. He sucked at your clit for a moment before he drew back and looked up at you.

“You still want to feel this?” he asked, and you paused for one moment to consider, that yes, yes you absolutely still wanted to know what his bite would feel like. There was really no doubt in your mind. It’s what you came here for. And you knew you needed to answer him directly or it would all be over.

“Yes, Sir. Yes. Please. I want to feel it. I want to feel your bite.”

It was all he needed. In a flash he was at the crease in your thigh, just outside your cunt. You felt his mouth open, felt him drag his teeth back and forth before he finally settled on a spot to sink them. Your pussy pulsed around nothing but the brief rhythmic flow of your blood drawn into his mouth.

You felt a rush of euphoria, a warmth like never before. A million stars lit up in your eyes and you could feel every molecule in your body and every one of them was in a state of bliss. You felt him take one more pull, a wave rushing across the shore of your imagination. When he stopped, it was almost as torturous as before he had begun. At least now you knew what that bliss could feel like.

It scared you a little. It felt like a drug you didn't want to mess around with. As good as it felt, you could imagine never wanting to let the feeling go. Begging for more. Offering up your body and soul to get one more taste, one more drifting orgasm.

Suddenly you were aware of the softest lick. The smallest peck of the lips. When you looked up at you, a stain of blood still remained on his lips and he saw you moan, saw you begin to writhe and strain up, even against the voice in your head that told you it was wrong, and it was all he could do to turn away.

“Please August,” you begged, forgetting what role you were in.

“Princess, not for a million dollars. Not for ten million. There is literally nothing you could offer me that would make me break that rule.”

“What rule, August? What can’t you do for me?” you pleaded for an answer, pressing yourself up to your knees, unaware that the rush you were experiencing had nothing to do with the way you thought you felt about August in the moment, and everything to do with the essence he used to ease the pain of the skin break, numb the feeling of loss, and reseal the wound in the aftermath.

“I get the feeling you really didn’t read the T&C, darling. If you had you would know, in this room, this suite,” he emphasized, as if he’d had to make that clarification before, “I cannot feed you. Even if what you’ve scented is your own blood. It’s too dangerous for you to taste it. Full of my saliva. Mixed together, it’s too potent for you.”

You were distraught and he was … was he amused?

“But I’ve given you what you asked for. Are you still ready to give me what you want?” He waited a few moments, allowing you to come to grips with the reality of the situation. You had slipped over a line, though it didn’t sound like this was something he hadn’t experienced before. A naive young thing, determined to play out a school girl fantasy, relive the stories she made up about being ravished and taken by the Count, made to be his bride.

With a small shake of your head, something cleared its way to the forefront of your mind. Of course he couldn’t feed you and of course you didn’t really want him to. It was a fantasy. That’s it. That’s all. You could only take this so far.

Once he saw you understood where the line was, August's chuckle was sinister. “You can still have something new. I’m more than happy to accommodate that request. As a matter of fact, I think that’s really the only reason you came here tonight, isn’t that right?”

Oh, he was good. That’s for sure. The way he was subtly shifting the priority of the night. Technically speaking, the only thing you’d really wanted was the bite. And he’d already given that to you. So if you were up for one more game…

“That’s right.”

He grabbed your chin and stared directly into your eyes. “That’s right, what?”

“That’s right, SIr.”

“Good girl. Lay back down. I’ll be right back.”

You wanted to kiss him goodbye as he let go of your face and appeared to float away from you. When he returned from the bathroom, his face was fresh and free of any temptation.

“Alright, princess. Hands and knees again, darling. Bring that ass right on over here,” he directed you back to the edge of the bed, ass once again in the air while you rested on your forearms.

August took his time. Warmed you up with a few more light taps that grew to harsh stings that you couldn’t stop squirming for. And you squirmed again when he tugged and twisted and pulled on the handle, teasing the plug almost all the way out before pushing it back in and then repeating the exquisite torture. You couldn’t hold still until he’d finally pulled it all the way out and pressed two lubed fingers into your puckered hole, and it was only because you needed a moment. Needed to let the sensation settle. Needed to relax to let him in deeper. Let another finger in. It wasn’t long before you were fucking yourself back on his hand again. ‘Same but different’ was all your mind could cobble together.

“Please, Sir,” you managed to gasp out in a moment of clarity. If you never asked, would he have just kept you dangling like this all night? “Please fuck my ass.”

“There you go, princess. You’ve found your manners finally.” He pulled his fingers out and you heard the familiar tear of another wrapper. Felt more lube. And finally, finally had the tip of what you knew was his extremely large cock pressed against your entrance.

It was easy to relax. He’d been prepping you for this for what felt like hours. It took nothing more than for you to release the deep breath you’d taken and he was past the now-less-tight ring and moving further inside you, slowly and with purpose. That purpose was to get you comfortable with the feeling, loosen you up further, and get you begging for more of him. Faster. Harder. Please, Sir. Please! More!

He obliged and it was not much longer before you felt the familiar coil tightening in a brand new way. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. You were breaking protocol and screaming his name instead of Sir, but as he came himself, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007 @peyton-warren @irishavengersassemble

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's another monster fucker lol!)

Tags from Werewolf!walter (if you commented):

@ellethespaceunicorn @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 @cinnamoroll-things @caramariehurst @zombicupcake3 @openup-yourmind @shellyshellshell @nickfowlerrr @greensleeves888 @misshinson @thelastsock @princessaxoo @augustsprincess @justjulie1105 @minimin1993 if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

#august walker fanfiction #august walker x reader #august walker #vampire!august #vampire!august walker #vampire!august x reader #vampire!august walker x reader #spoopy season #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #gothic fantasy #mine #deandoesthingstome

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artdotpage · 1 year ago

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Problems facing modern artists & creators

I've talked with hundreds of artists and creators about the difficulties they face trying to earn a living from their craft.

This post covers two of the big ones (social media algorithms & bargain basement marketplaces), and what tools are available to grow your business despite these issues.

Social Media Algorithms and Audience Ownership

Social media platforms are a godsend for getting your work in front of potential clients and building a loyal fan base.

However as you will all have experienced, it can take a mastermind to figure out what kind of content the algorithm wants you to post, and if you don't do that you'd be as well throwing your content into the void as even your own followers might not see your post, never mind new viewers.

It also means you don't truly own your audience, if you post something slightly controversial your account could be deleted without warning, or perhaps a billionaire buys the site and everyone flocks to a new platform where you have to start growing your following all over again.

Solution: Build a mailing list

This is perhaps the single best marketing tool available to any business, and is sorely overlooked by artists and creators.

It's cost effective and because you own your mailing list it doesn't matter what's happening on social sites, you can always keep in touch with them.

The tricky part is converting people into mailing list subscribers. However I've seen plenty of creators successfully build one by offering incentives including free digital downloads, early access to content, discounts on your store etc.

Those who sign up to your mailing list would be considered high quality followers, someone who is much more likely to convert to a paid client and buy from you again in the future compared to the average follower on social media.

Tools

https://art.page/

https://substack.com/

https://convertkit.com/

Losing clients to undercutting competitors on the same platform/marketplace

If you run your business on a marketplace or platform, your clients are one click away from finding plenty of other choices who are willing to undercut everyone else to land a sale.

These sites have no incentive to make sure that traffic you drive to your profile actually purchase from you. Whether a sale is made through your listing or another seller, they collect their fee either way.

They also use uniform designs which reduce you to a generic product listing. Whilst this can simplify the customer experience, it means you have no control over the sales funnel and ability to differentiate yourself, making it harder to convert potential clients into paying customers.

Solution: Direct clients to your own site

Use your own personal website to make sales from, there are plenty of options with no monthly charge and lower fees than marketplaces. This lets you make dedicated marketing pages showcasing your best work to make a client excited about doing business with you, instead of just being a generic product listing.

Take advantage of marketplaces purely for their customer base. Don't rely on them as your sole business platform. This way, any fees you pay are worthwhile to generate sales you wouldn't have had otherwise.

Tools

https://art.page/

https://www.bigcartel.com/

https://squareup.com/

Interested in more?

There's plenty more I have to share on this topic, including:

How to properly use Print on Demand without getting ripped off

Streamline managing your business so you spend more time creating and growing your business.

How to better utilize your brand to connect with clients and increase sales

So let me know if you’re interested and I’ll get writing!

Transparency

I'm building https://art.page to solve these exact issues, with the goal to create the best all in one site builder for artists and creators that makes running your business easy.

#artdotpage #artpage #artists on tumblr

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sixteenth-day-event · 11 months ago

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Welcome to the Dream SMP Sixteenth Day Event!

This is an event designed to celebrate the Dream SMP's iconic 16th day of the month! Use a personalized prompt to create piece of art, writing, or something else that can be shared on the 16th!

Sign-up: CLOSED

This event is primarily focused on the DREAM SMP STORYLINE AND CHARACTERS, NOT the content creators. This is mainly because I don't know enough about the content creators to give prompts for them. However, if you can find a way to link the prompt you receive to the content creators instead of their characters, feel free to do so!

This event also TOLERATES ALL DREAM SMP CHARACTERS. Any negativity towards other participants is cause for a block. If you find that the content reblogged here makes you uncomfortable, you're very welcome to unfollow this event blog while still participating yourself!

How to participate:

Fill out the linked sign-up form to identify your Dream SMP interests. This information will determine what kind of prompt you get for creating your own work.

Approximately a week before the 16th, you'll get two asks from this blog in your inbox, each ask containing a brief prompt based on your interests. Choose one of the prompts. The reason there are two prompts is just to give you a choice in case you don't like one of them; you don't have to complete them both! If you strongly dislike both of your prompts, let me know so I can send more.

Use your choice of prompt to create a piece of art, writing, or something else—whatever you like! But remember, don't post it until the 16th of the month.

This is NOT a gift exchange, as all the prompts will come straight from me, the event-runner, NOT from other participants. This means that there is no expectation of quality, nor is there a minimum or maximum amount you can create. Works are only assumed to be small. You could write an entire novel or a single sentence; you could draw a 100-page comic or a 1-minute sketch; it's all welcome! You could even drop out at any time. Filling out the sign-up form only means that you will receive a prompt; it does not mean that you have to participate. This event is supposed to be as stress-free as possible.

On the 16th of the month, post your work! This could be as a direct response to the ask with your chosen prompt, or it could be a separate post. Either way, just remember to @ this blog and use the tag #sixteenthdayevent so I can reblog anything you create!

Event run by @elmhat.

#dream smp #dsmp #dreblr #sixteenthdayevent #personal month #mod posts #event posts

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yaekiss · 1 year ago

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#Mailroom Open!　─ Hello Qi! I hope I am able to get this letter in before the cutoff 😖 May I send a love letter to yan!Jing Yuan, and have him address a Foxian!reader w gn nicknames?

\\\______\\\\________\\\

To my dearest Scoundrel,

You are quite the terrible influence my dear general, are you aware of this? How am I supposed to resolve this trade agreement with our fellow Xianzhou flagships in a timely manner, when you have more or less conditioned me to take naps during most hours of the day?

Truly despicable of you really. And on top of that, your "parting gifts" you left on me are still very tender; very distracting from my work. Efficiency and diligence, I fear will be strangers to me during this trip.

Regardless, I hope you are doing well and are not causing to much trouble for the commission during my absence. (Please try to not stress Fu Xian too much, I don't need further distractions from her blowing up my phone because of your shenanigans.) Maybe if you are on your best behavior, I might even give you a reward. Perhaps even something of your choosing if you are especially well behaved~.

Before I sign off and leave you to return to my work, I have sealed a gift for you. Consider it...my own unique "parting gift" to you until I return to you. Which I know in our vast lifespans will be over before you know it my beloved.

-Sincerely, your sleepy vixen

(Enclosed in a small red and gold box, is a simple blue collar with golden accents and filigree with a note that says "wear it until I come back ;)" )

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Jing Yuan, no gendered terms for reader, Jing Yuan calls you "my tranquility", unhealthy obsessive relationship from Jing Yuan, lightly implied drugging, mentions of reader topping and edging Jing Yuan, quick mention of biting and blood, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: You have quite the roster of guards at the door of your hotel room huh? Looks like nothing's going to slip past them if they were chosen by Jing Yuan himself! ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

As you return to your temporary quarters after sitting through a particularly arduous trade meeting, you’re alerted by your guards assigned to you (by none other than Jing Yuan) about a suspicious delivery left for you while you were away.

Inspecting the box, a laugh escapes you when you catch the ink paw prints of a lion stamped haphazardly on both sides of it. After explaining that this was a personal delivery from the Xianzhou Luofu’s Dozing General, it seemed to dissolve any remaining apprehension your guards had and they handed the box over to you. Thanking them for dutifully carrying out their work, you step into your room.

Your room is spacious, ridiculously so. Why would one person need such a massive room for themselves? It’s the kind that only a general could manage to procure. The open sliding window leads to a balcony that showcases the bustling lively environment of the streets below and a cool evening breeze fills the room. Settling down on the edge of the bed, you set the box in your lap.

Upon opening up your delivery, it seems that Jing Yuan had prepared a pair of gifts in return for you. The first of two is an intricate small glass spray bottle set within a satin-lined box. The small tag tied around it says, “Some of the fragrance that I often use. For you to spray on your pillows when you sleep. :3”

Spritzing a fine mist onto your wrist, the scent of your lover wafts from the area; not too strong such that it’s unpleasant for your keen sense of smell, nor too faint that it’s hard for you to pick up. The fragrance is soothing and familiar, a thoughtful gift that will no doubt improve the quality of your sleep, as evident from the yawn it draws out from you.

The second gift you retrieve from the box is a soft sleep mask in your favourite colour. Sliding it over your eyes, you find that the fabric is smooth against your skin and the mask manages to completely block out all light, fully blacking out everything. The elastic strap isn’t overly tight but secure enough that it ensures that the mask doesn’t slip off too easily. Perfect for tossing and turning.

Finally, laid at the bottom of the box, is the reply from Jing Yuan, concealed in an elegant envelope. The quality is top-notch and flawless, and it’s sealed securely. Running your hand over the envelope, you feel the crest of the Cloud Knights embossed lightly on the surface. You break the seal and remove the letter contained within.

His handwriting is steady and dignified, each and every brushstroke on the page graceful. At the end of his letter, is his own name seal, stamped in red ink. Jing Yuan’s reply reads:

“For my dreamlike haven,

My apologies, it seems that Mimi got its paws on the box while I was out of my office and left a couple of paw prints on the sides. Sigh, you should’ve seen how much ink I had to clean off the surfaces, truly troublesome. Perhaps it knew that the box was meant for you and wished to leave something for you as well, haha!

I have to admit, Mimi is not the only one missing you, my tranquility. I find myself looking over to my side to ask for your wise input on things, only to realise that you’re away. Fu Xuan laughs at me whenever I do this. :(

It's just not the same to take afternoon naps without you by my side. Nothing is as comforting as your warmth in my arms, or for me to jokingly complain about the tips of your furry ears tickling my nose when we cuddle together. My slumbers are no longer restful when I can’t spend them with you, my tranquility.

The things I would do to have you next to me again. Are the marks and scratches I left on you still visible, my tranquility? Judging by how the ones you left on me are fading, I assume my parting gifts left on you are doing the same. Would you let me mark you up again, and won’t you extend the same generosity to me too? I yearn for your searing touch, my tranquility, for your fangs to pierce my skin and bring forth the vivid red beneath. Whenever I close my eyes, the only thing I can see is you, as if you linger in my every thought and dream.

Speaking of dreams, it seems that lately, my dreams have taken quite a raunchy turn. The starring role for all of them is obviously, you, my tranquility. You’d have me pliant and satisfying your every whim. In one, you had me bent over my office desk, fucking me hard as I rocked back against you. In another, you were edging me mercilessly, over and over again, until I could do nothing but beg helplessly for my release. That look you had in your eyes still sends a shiver down my spine. I’m hoping that soon, you can help turn these dreams of mine into reality.

Additionally, thank you for the collar, my tranquility. I’ve taken the liberty of adding a charming little bell at the front of it, I think you’d find it quite endearing. (And perhaps deserving of a reward? :3)

Do take care of yourself, or else I might just have to come and do it myself, haha. I’ll try to be on my best behaviour but no promises! I miss you dearly, my tranquility, come back to me soon.

Your rascal of a general,

- Jing Yuan -

P.S. Remember to use the fragrance on your pillows and the sleep mask!”

Rising from your seat on the bed, you pack everything back into the box before stepping into the shower to… cool off after reading Jing Yuan’s letter. In the bathroom, you find yourself relaxing as the water patters on your skin. Your ears flicker slightly whenever they pick up noise from beyond the locked door. A shout from the busy streets below, a soft sigh and the tinkle of a bell, the water splashing onto the floor around you.

Whilst clothing yourself, you lift your wrist to your nose and sigh when the scent of Jing Yuan has expectedly, (begrudgingly), been washed off. However, when you return to your bed, the scent of him still lingers, one that wasn’t here before.

Your heightened foxian senses can just about make out where it’s concentrated the most, and it points towards your pillow. It’s saturated with the smell of him, to a disconcerting degree. Lifting it up, you’re greeted with the sight of the usual red ribbon he has tied around his hair.

The world falls silent around you.

He was in your room.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

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piratefishmama · 1 year ago

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Finders Givers | Prompted by @aellafreya

Curiosity.

Some may call it a dangerous thing. Some may argue for its ability to lead you to the truth of things. Some may claim it leads you to temptation, to regret, to suffering.

Steve Harrington, was curious.

He’d found the source of his curiosity while visiting a bar he’d planned on purchasing. It wasn’t a huge establishment. Or a well known one. Not exactly big bucks in the making but it was sat in a prime location atop a cellar that led to miles of underground tunnels which frankly.

He wanted.

He wanted them and not for legal reasons either. The tunnels weren’t on any official city map, predating them, Robin and Nancy, his right hand, and his researcher, found them by pure chance while on a fun little jaunt through the local libraries.

Fun being a stretch for Robin, but she needed to hang out with another woman her own age. And so did Nancy.

But he wanted those tunnels, they stretched all over the damn city, with just a little bit of work they could pop up anywhere, perfect for many a less than legal activity.

So many by-chance happenings had led him to that ratty little bi-fold leather wallet. Wasn’t even quality leather either. It looked old too, black with an embossed devil head pattern that probably came from some truck stop somewhere.

He could have just handed it in to the owner he was trying to buy out, could have even thrown it away, but curiosity was a devil sometimes. So there he was, sat down at one of the many tables in that little bar while one of his people did the majority of his work for him (honestly what’s the point of having people if they cant do your work for you?) perusing the contents and feeling more and more depressed by the second.

First, there was a wad of coupons and a single quarter in there instead of bills, which was never a good sign.

Second, a single, solitary, sad, badly rolled little joint.

Third. A single bank card with Mr E J Munson on it. Not even a credit card, just. A debit. Which statistically didn’t mean great things about this person’s credit score. Could just mean the owner was trying to avoid debt, but… doubtful.

Fourth, a stick of gum.

Fifth, a guitar pick.

Sixth, a library card, oof couldn’t even afford to buy the books.

An expired driver’s license desperately in need of renewal registered to Edward Joseph Munson, the photo made him look like he’d just gotten out of jail or some shit, his hair a terrible buzzcut and eyes too big, too dark, and too haunted to be anything else, but then that was just sometimes how those photos turned out. He could have been a totally innocent man!

It had his address on it, a few descriptors, height half an inch shorter than Steve himself, brown hair, brown eyes, male, 140lbs at point of issue (he’d been seventeen), date of issue, issuing State, along with a date of birth, clocking him at a year older than Steve, twenty nine, and… that he was apparently a donor.

And finally, a month old pay stub from a local fast food joint. So minimum wage worker at best.

It was… kind of sad really. Steve actually looked up the address on his phone, just for curiosities sake, because he was already in deep enough to look through a guy’s wallet, might as well google the poor saps address, just in case he felt charitable enough to drop it off on the way back to the high rise.

Oh there was that deep sadness some people might yell ‘I told you so’ about.

It wasn’t bad. But it sure as shit wasn’t good either. Steve knew of at least six bottom dweller drug dealers that operated out of that block, which explained the joint.

And also made him sadder about the joint, the weed probably wasn’t even all that good.

“Hey Robbie?” His long time friend and platonic soulmate turned her bored gaze over to him, she’d been playing angry birds on her phone, he could hear the war cries of those birds every time she launched one. “We done any charity this quarter?”

“Mmmmmnmnnnnoooooo?” It always looked good to the public for a rich guy like him to do charity work. Wouldn’t look too deeply into him if he was seen publicly doing good. “Unless you count telling Dustin to go wild in that nerd shop last week as ‘charity’, your child nearly emptied the damn shop.”

“Nah that was his birthday present, can’t call that charity.” He wasn’t going to reiterate that Dustin wasn’t his child. He was basically mom at that point.

“Alright, so what’re you thinking?” She sat up, turning to face him properly, putting her phone screen down on the table “Sponsoring something? A drive? There’s this cute little animal shelter in Japan called HEART I read about last month, ran by just a woman and her husband working with volunteers, could be a good thing to donate to? Helping animals is always good for PR.”

“…Those sound way better than what I was thinking, this guy’s wallet is bumming me out.” The expression on her face could have probably put grumpy cat to shame. “Pick one of your choices and do something with it, whichever you want. Imma do something about this wallet.” It didn’t have to be a big PR stunt, the fact that he was doing it on the DL as well? It always came back around all sunshine and roses because people believed it was totally selfless.

Didn’t do it for PR, couldn’t be doing it for PR, he hadn’t announced it.

It was always for PR. Always. The reaction just took a little longer to circulate and people were suckers.

“Just give it back to him? That should be charity enough. It’s like nine bucks to replace a driver’s license, you’re saving him nine bucks. Charity.”

“For someone who started out poor, you’re awful, Robin Buckley. Deal with this bar thing for me would you? I’m going to go on an adventure.” Curiosity was a powerful thing!

“Alright but if you come home with another stray I’m suing!”

“That was—”

“Seven times Steve! Seven!!” It wasn’t his fault that he struggled to see teenagers down on their luck. And four of them were two sets of siblings so it technically counted as one time per set, and one came with Nancy so—!

“Fine!” –So, he wouldn’t argue.

Empires weren’t built with throw away people who held no loyalty to you although he did have many of those on staff. Empires like his were built on the foundation of family, and while the one he’d grown up with was a little bit lacklustre, the one he’d built was perfect.

So he wouldn’t argue, he knew she loved them just as much as he did, in her own way, and that any additions would be welcomed with open arms.

—

Steve didn’t take the car. Although he probably should have, he knew at least three of his people would be following him, keeping an eye on him for safety reasons. At a distance of course but they’d be tailing him for the sake of safety.

That neighbourhood wasn’t safe. No matter if he had a weapon on him or not, it wasn’t safe for people like him.

People with visible wealth.

The watch on his wrist alone was probably worth more than some of the buildings in that neighbourhood, and it wasn’t exactly early in the day either. The sun setting made for an excellent ‘rich person in the wrong goddamn neighbourhood’ future police report.

But he made it to his destination unscathed.

The fast food joint from that pay stub. He even double checked the address on it. The chances of this Edward Munson being there were low, but that was fine, he just wanted to check it out. The atmosphere in there, the management styles, he’d hang out in the corner, get a cheap coffee and people watch for a while. See how fun Edward's work life was so he could add it to his decision making tree.

Curiosity really was one depressing little bitch baby.

The manager on staff was loud. Rude. Sexist. And he was pretty sure he’d made one of the staff cry because she’d hurried out very quickly rubbing at her face and sniffling. The temptation to put out a hit on him? High. But no, that was a lot for one asshole… maybe he’d just send Jane out, let the kid take his knees out.

She deserved a little bastard ba—

Someone beat him to it. A commotion later started by someone with a lot of hair, hair that’d been put up in a net and half hidden beneath the uniform’s god awful mustard yellow cap. It’d been two hits, the guy hitting him, and the manager hitting the floor, blood pouring from a very broken nose, spectacular.

The rest of the staff looked on in wide eyed horror, one yelping “Eddie, holy shit!” as the man pulled his cap off to reveal all that hair. “You’re so fired!”

“Didn’t need this shit show anyway! Chris an I quit, peace out assholes!!” Eddie. Eddie. Steve rose to his feet. Godawful coffee forgotten in the face of the mystery Edward, who caught his eye once before continuing on his way, all big brown frankly beautiful Bambi eyes, less haunted but still so big, full, kissable lips, and god, so much hair, going in the same direction as the blonde who’d disappeared to probably go and cry.

Eddie did need that job. He really needed that job. Steve had seen the state of his wallet. He needed that job, or at least he needed the paycheque that came from that job. Couldn’t even afford to buy his own books! He rented them, he rented books.

Jesus.

God, Robin was gonna judge him so bad for the person he was about to become.

Part 2

#PirateWrites #FindersGiversFiclet #Steddie #Mob Boss Steve Harrington #No Upside Down AU #Shady!Steve #CW: Stalker Vibes #nothing nefarious it's all lighthearted non-threatening stuff #Sugar Baby Eddie who never agreed to be a sugar baby but isn’t complaining.

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caraetdeul · 2 months ago

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Impulsive Decisions

Kwon Soonyoung a.k.a. Hoshi x fem!reader

His love language is quality time and doing impulsive decisions together.

TW: slight swearing, stressful workload, and not proofread yet but other than that, there's nothing but fluff

A/n: I'm so sorry it took me so long to post another fic. These past few weeks had been very hectic but now that I finally got a few moments to breathe, I could finally come back to writing. That's why this one's a bit shortrr than usual but I've been dying to post something asksjskjs. Anyways, thank you for waiting for me and enjoy reading, caratdeuls!

~Main Masterlist~

“What the hell are you doing?”

The scissors in your hand froze just as it snipped a portion of your bangs. Your eyes zoned in on the reflection of Soonyoung by the left side of the mirror, leaning on his side by the door. You rolled your eyes at the smug look on his face. It wasn’t often that he got to catch you off guard so you know that he’s already gonna try his best to milk this as best as he can.

“Cutting my hair.”

“And do pray tell, why are you cutting your hair at this time of night?”

You sighed, finally turning around to face him, “I’m too stressed and bored to do anything else.”

Soonyoung’s eyes softened. He stepped closer to you, his hands resting on your hips as his eyes finally took note of the dark bags under your eyes and hunched shoulders. Your hands circled around his neck before resting your chin on his chest, tired but loving eyes gazing upon him.

You chuckled quietly, “And besides, I’ve been meaning to cut my hair for so long now. I just needed the right motivation and what’s better motivation than the need to have a break.”

He hummed. There was a lull in the conversation as you watched him take one of his hands off your hip and bring it up to your hair. He narrowed his eyes at you, curiosity and something else you can’t pinpoint was glinting in his eyes, “Wait a minute, you can cut your own hair?”

“Yep.”

“And you’ve been cutting your hair this whole time?”

“More or less, yeah.”

“Huh.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he lit up with this information. You were taken aback when he suddenly smushed your cheeks with his hands, his whole face just beaming with excitement, “Can you do anything else with your hair? Like, I don’t know, bleach it or something?”

Now, it was your turn to get curious. You scrunched your eyebrows, scanning his face for any sign of where he was going with this question before giving up and slowly nodding your head. You didn’t think it was possible but his smile definitely got wider. And just as you opened your mouth to ask him about it, he bombarded you with kisses all over your face before walking away and out towards the direction of your apartment’s door. You could faintly hear his voice shouting a short “I’ll be back.” before you heard the door slam shut.

It took you a few more minutes of just standing in the middle of your bathroom, trying to comprehend what the hell actually happened. You then shrugged your shoulders before turning back to the mirror to continue your impulsive decision. Your boyfriend was being weird but then again, when was the last time you actually spent time with him without him getting weird all of a sudden? Don’t get it wrong though, he still had his serious moments when the situation deemed it necessary but you’ll be damned if you said that weirdness didn’t run through his veins more than blood did. Looking back at that moment earlier when that cute-as-hell smile on his face showed up that also makes his eyes disappear, all will definitely be damned if you didn’t admit how much you loved that side of his.

Time passed and you honestly forgot much about what happened. You were done with messing with your hair and were now back to grinding for your research assignment that you’ve been fretting over for the last few hours. You were doing your best but as of now, your “best” is kind of leaning towards doing half-baked content and you just don’t have the energy to do any better. Not when your eyes were already drooping and your body was slowly inching down into a lying position on your couch. Pressing the last few buttons on your keyboard, you exhaled deeply as you let exhaustion finally overwhelm your body.

You didn’t even notice how you were already on the brink of falling asleep. You were only reminded of it when your whole body literally jumped out of the couch from the slam of the apartment door closing.

“What the fuck…” you mutter under your breath. You could hear someone calling out your name but with your brain still muddled from your unplanned nap, the words could only enter one ear and exit straight out of the other. It’s only when you feel someone hugging you from behind the couch did you actually come back to reality.

Blinking very slowly, your eyes did their best to focus on the head, which you now realized was your boyfriend’s, that was resting on your shoulder. He whispered a sorry into your ear once he realized that he had woken you up before kissing your cheek to solidify his apology. The smell of his perfume almost consumed your whole mind and being but the sparkle in his eyes as he waited for you to properly respond to him stopped you from getting any more distracted.

“Yes, babe?” you hummed.

“Will you please help me with something?” he whispered.

Soonyoung probably felt the way your whole demeanor immediately changed with concern over the matter of his question because he quickly backtracked to avoid any miscommunication. He immediately rounded the couch and plopped down beside you before reassuring you, “No, don’t worry. I didn’t do anything bad, I promise.”

“You also said that the last time you asked me that question and now, I can’t even buy anything from the grocery store without sales clerks eyeing me down every single time.”

He gasped dramatically, the palm of his hand splayed out over his chest as he tried to defend himself, “That was not my fault!”

You raised an eyebrow, your arms crossed against your chest. You might be tired but you’re definitely not dumb enough to believe that. And by the looks of it, Soonyoung also knew it.

He sighed dejectedly, raising his hands up in the air in surrender, “Okay, fine. Point taken. But just this once, please listen?”

Those damn puppy eyes will be the death of you one day. Not today, but someday.

“Ugh, fine. What is it?” you grumbled, rolling your eyes with affection when he pumped his fists in the air. He’s such a dork. Your dork.

“Okay, so. I probably didn’t think this through properly and maybe I should’ve actually asked you first before buying it. I mean at first, I thought about you just cutting my hair but then again, I didn’t know if your cutting skills were just catered to you and not really to other people. Or maybe you could only, like, cut hair for women and not for men because it’s a whole different style and I didn’t really want to force you to learn something else when I know how much workload you had been under for the past few da—”

“Babe,” you interrupted chuckling, closing your hands around his, “What do you need?”

But instead of answering, he removed his hands from under yours. Your lips ticked downwards at the loss of contact but before you could react properly, a paper bag was suddenly placed on your hands. You eyed the bag for a bit, unsure if you should open it or not. But you didn’t have to do anything else as Soonyoung opened the bag for you and took out a box of hair dye. He then grabbed your hands with a pout and pleading eyes and held them close between you.

“Will you please dye my hair?”

You blinked once. Twice. Thrice. You know what, it doesn’t matter. You blinked a bunch of times before actually letting the question sink in.

Soonyoung wanted you to dye his hair.

Your boyfriend wanted you to dye his hair.

Your boyfriend who is an idol wanted you to dye his hair that’s been loved not just by you but by a million other people too.

You moved closer until your faces were only inches away before murmuring, “Do you want me to die?”

“W-what?”

“Soons,” you sighed, “You’re an idol. A well-known and beloved star. I can’t dye your hair just like that.”

“Why not?” he pleaded, his whole face falling with confusion and disappointment. Your eyes softened at the pitiful sight but you still can’t find a good reason behind this.

You bit your lip before asking, “Why do you even want me to do it?”

“Well,” he paused, his eyes flitting from your face to the both of your hands that were still holding each other, “I couldn’t let you make impulsive decisions by yourself. I wanted to do it with you.”

Your heart warmed at the thought, a small smile gracing your lips. You breathed deeply, pursing your lips in thought. Maybe you were too easily read or maybe you’ve been with each other for so long now but the sudden flash of anticipation and hope that crossed your boyfriend’s face definitely told you how much he knew you. Because you didn’t even get a word of approval out of your mouth before he jumped out of the couch with a resounding yes. You laughed out loud at the little dance he made as he leaped around the living room in excitement.

“On one condition,” you declared, his body immediately stopping mid-leap before looking at you with raised eyebrows, “There will be no complaints nor regrets after this.”

He scoffed in disbelief, “Do you really think I’ll regret this?”

“Yep.”

“Baby, nothing you do will ever make me regret trusting you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. Freaking hell, how did you get so lucky?

Needless to say, you both spent most of the night dyeing his hair and mimicking the different possible reactions of his fans once he went public with his new hair. You may have slept late but the fun and quality time you spent together was totally worth it. Besides, waking up to comments and tweets from his fans about how jealous they are of your relationship and how well you dyed his hair was definitely the cherry on top.

Taglist: @moonwonuu @belladaises @porridgesblog @sasaapportela @allys-reads @clownprincehoeshi @yoonzzziino @gyuguys

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tobylix-blog · 4 months ago

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Gratitude - Aragorn x f!Reader

Content & Warnings: platonic, fluff(ish) Word count: 3.6k Summary: Aragorn returns to become a king and pay back for the kindness of a merchant's daughter, whom he has met during his past visit to Minas Tirith.

You open the store once again. The city is wrecked. The siege was barely three days ago. But the market is the first place to come back to life. As long as it's loud and busy the city lives. Your storage is filled. By some miracle no fire or stone has touched your street. You fix the door open and hang out a long piece of cloth - a sign that the store is working. You turn back to tidy up the shelves behind the counter when someone steps in. Judging by the sound of voices several people come in at once.

"A minute, gentlemen, I'm almost with you," you say over the shoulder, not quite looking at them yet.

The voices are quiet, and for a moment all is silent in the store. Then a loud thud comes. You turn to see a whole bag of coins on the counter as a rich, melodious voice sounds from among the men.

"My friends will need the finest clothes for the coronation and so will you, miss".

Your eyes slowly rise from the counter to the man speaking. His familiarity strikes as a low blow. His appearance changed drastically and yet hardly noticeably. He stands proud and is wearing fine clothing with the White tree of Gondor on it, but the gaze of his gray eyes is as piercing as before.

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

The street is busy with people. Morning rush in the market doesn't fade until noon when the sun gets just too high. Through dozens of conversations unfolding between merchants and customers bargaining over the goods, old friends who suddenly met in the middle of chaos and servants figuring out how to get it over with sooner, you hear a distinct male voice saying. "Get lost, outlander! Northerners are out of their mind if they think I will sell them even a piece of shit! Damn rangers."

You recognize the voice. The trader from the armory a few doors down the street. As threatening as he appears, he isn't usually that hostile to customers. From your point of view, two steps above the ground you can only see the dark hair of the man he scolds. Man is saying something back but his voice you can't quite hear. Instead a loud response comes from the inside of the armory.

"Put your silver up your thin arse! Get away from my store before I put a hammer through your head," this time it's the smith himself. You shiver a bit hearing his rough voice.

Stranger only stays in front of the armorer's shop for a moment before moving on. You finally see him fully when he appears from the crowd. Tall and dark-haired he doesn't seem all that different from men of Gondor. His clothes give away the fact that he is indeed a Ranger. You hear more sneers following him from the other side of the street where old men sell leather. Their tannery is actually a few streets down from here, but they still keep a display in the busiest part of the market. Unpleasant fellows. They even got in a quarrel with your father a few times trying to steal his customers. Probably that's why you take a step down from the door and call out to the stranger. There's no other explanation at all.

"Ranger! Come look at our fabrics. Best broadcloth in all Minas Tirith! Vast selection and best prices for you."

The Ranger stops, looks around for a moment, and seeing the wares through the open door makes his way down to look over them. He looks at the materials laid out on the counter over, fingers them, and seems intrigued by the selection. He reaches out to examine a particularly colorful one.

"You have a very good selection here. Are these local, or imported? They look very fine."

You may be only 13 years old, but you know the goods well. "These wools are gondorian. Look at the quality here. There are none like this anywhere in Arnor. I also suggest these linen fabrics delivered from Linhir," you say imitating your father's manner of speech.

The Ranger smiles faintly at seeing you so assured in your speech and so young. He looks over the wools and linens.

"Linhir, eh? Impressive that you get such high quality goods from so far away." He looks back at you with visible curiosity. "Are you the shop owner's daughter?"

"I am," you confirm and after a little pause pull a length of dyed linen from underneath the counter. "This one is rarely to anyone's liking but you seem to be fitting the description of 'not anyone', if I'm not mistaken. Take it. There's enough for a good shirt."

The Ranger smiles more broadly this time, and picks up the length of linen. He examines it thoroughly, and nods slowly.

"You've got a sharp eye, to guess that I'm someone who doesn't blend in, lass," he says with a touch of humor in his voice. "And this is definitely worth the coin. How much are you asking for it?"

You name the price. He rummages his pockets for a moment before cold coins drop heavy in your palm. "There's more than needed. I'll be right back…" you say and rush into the house. For a minute only some shuffling is heard. Then you return to the counter.

"Here," you tell the Ranger. "Change and well… everything."

You pass him a coin of change and a small bundle. The Ranger pockets the change, and then takes a look inside the wrap. After a moment, he smiles faintly again.

"Is it common practice for you to throw in a meal with your sales?" he asks, amused.

You feel blush creeping up your face. "If the tavern owners are half as hospitable as the blacksmiths are, you will need it."

The Ranger laughs at that, and his smile remains afterwards. "You've an excellent point, lass. The hospitality of tavern owners seems to be in constant decline. And I'm not sure about the blacksmiths either."

It's clear in his voice that he's jesting, though he is obviously remembering his earlier confrontation with the blacksmith. You watch him put on the hood of his cloak as he walks away blending in with the crowd. You don't remember much from the rest of that day, except for occasional sidelong glance from the leather men. No wonder you don't. It's been over eight years since then.

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

Many thoughts arise at once, clouding your mind like a swarm. Yet they all are silenced by one phrase, that a dwarf says. "What is the meaning of this, Aragorn?" He says something else about how it's not the king's duty to walk from stall to stall, choosing fabrics, but it doesn't matter.

You slowly slide off the stool you were standing on, by some wonder landing on your feet and not gashing your knees against the wooden floor. The words are pounding in your head. Yes, that's right. People surrounding him are.. not exactly people. An elf, a dwarf and two hobbits. Just as the rumor has it. The king has friends of other races and folks.

Your body is stiff when you muster a bow to him. This tall man, Ranger you once met, turned out to be the last living heir to the throne. Some absolutely mad joke of fate that might be.

"It's an honor to see you here, my king. Though I must apologize for the disorder and lack of manner," you manage to utter finally.

He smiles faintly at your bow. "It's good to see you again, lass," he says, raising a hand to forestall any further apologies. "And there's no need to apologize. Your manner is fine, especially given the circumstances."

He leans forward a bit, eyes still sparkling with the faintest hint of mischief. "You seemed surprised just now when you saw me. As if you've seen a ghost walk into your shop."

"It isn't everyday that a faintly familiar ranger pays a visit… and happens to become a king, your majesty," you say. Your eyes dart from one of his companions to another until you settle with the image. From there on your steps are fast and words are even faster as you fall into the usual pattern of work. It helps to set all worries aside.

"Midnight blue and ink black broadcloth for Gimli, son of Gloin," you arrange the fabrics on top of the counter before the dwarf. "Goes well along with both gold and silver."

"Bright wools and soft satins for brave hobbits," you speak pulling out lengths of colored textile and showcasing them to Merry and Pippin.

"Silver silk brought all the way from Lorien for honorable Legolas of Mirkwood," you suggest, unsure yet if smuggled wares could meet the request of an elf.

"Linen from Linhir and hemp from Dale for your majesty," you offer a multitude of colors to the future king.

Aragorn's eyebrows rise in mild surprise at the speed with which you handle the various requests. You clearly know your craft, and well. You pick out the colors and patterns with ease. He runs his hands over the soft fabric of the broadcloth you picked out for Gimli. After a moment, he nods slowly.

"Excellent choice for my friend," he says, glancing at the dwarf. Gimli grins back and nods in agreement.

"It's an honor to meet your expectations, my king," you bow slightly under Aragorn's somewhat disapproving gaze.

You watch as the others look through the selected fabrics and nod in agreement, choosing the best fitting ones. Aragorn himself looks rather delighted by the wares. He picks out a length of hemp cloth, turns it over in his hands a few times, examining the weave and texture, and finally gives a satisfied sigh.

"I'm still a Ranger at heart," he says, glancing up at you. "My taste in clothes runs toward the simple and practical. This hemp is just the thing."

He sets the hemp down on the counter and smiles back at you. "I do wonder, though… which one will you choose for yourself?"

Your heart skips a bit at the question. "For myself?" The words leave your mouth before you get a chance to think them through.

Aragorn smiles at your surprised expression. "Of course," he says. "I doubt I need to tell you that the coronation will be a grand event. There will be people, nobles especially, with all the fashion sense and more coin than sense. You will be the only one in something plain and unadorned if you stay away from the occasion."

He looks down at your clothes. You're well-dressed for a trader, a clear sign that the store's profits stay high despite any turmoil, but it's clear that your dress is ordinary, suitable for an ordinary day. "You deserve something better than that."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand, your majesty…" you mutter. "I might be able to watch the coronation from among the crowd, or standing on the parapet if the luck is good. But my dress makes no difference in that luck."

Aragorn lets out a small huff and shakes his head. "No, lass. You have seen me before, and you weren't among those sneering and showering me with cheap mockery. As far as I'm concerned, you're entitled to a seat of honor at the ceremony. And I'm not letting you take that seat while you've still got your old clothes on."

You look at him in disbelief. This idea seems absolutely mad. You have probably lost your mind during the siege, and now you're imagining the whole thing. That the King, Aragorn, would be in your store personally inviting you as a guest to his coronation and willing to pay for your dress because of some decade old encounter. You shake your head and blink a few times trying to get back to reality. And yet he is still here. The same smirk on his lips as he leans on the counter.

Aragorn's smirk grows a bit wider when he sees your reaction. "Don't doubt your eyes, lass," a hint of humor is present in his voice. "I am standing here. And I am inviting you."

He looks you up and down, taking in your current clothes and appearance. "And if you don't pick something suitable, I'll do it myself, and you won't like it."

At that you only shake your head yet again and turn around facing the many shelves behind the counter. You know the wares like the back of your hand and don't waste much time picking out the more delicate linens and a length of silk from southern Gondor in light blue hues. Aragorn only looks them over once and gives a nod of approval.

"An excellent choice," he says, looking up at you with a smile. "You have an eye for color."

You nod slightly, unable to speak anymore. It all seems so impossible and unreal. Aragorn pays for everything he and his friend choose as well as for the lengths for your own dress; he also leaves behind enough to pay any seamstress in the city for the gown. It's only a few minutes before you're left behind. Alone and bewildered by the meeting.

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

In the next couple of days you pay a visit to a seamstress that once had sewn your mother's wedding dress. She takes the order readily and in the next morning a boy brings back a bundle with the finished gown. It's light and flowing like water in the river. You wait patiently until the day of coronation to finally put it on.

The dress seems to be enchanted somehow. You don't feel like a merchant's daughter walking through the crowd at court, being accompanied by a guard. You don't feel alien standing in the front rows among noble ladies and just a few steps away from lady Eowyn — niece to the late king of Rohan — and lord Faramir — son of the last steward of Gondor. You feel as if this could be some other life prepared for you by fate. And still you can't quite place why the king would step out of his way and do something of that sort for you.

Throughout the whole ceremony you can't tear your eyes away from his silhouette. You recognize the familiar color and texture of fabric, hugging his neck from beneath the armor. You watch him walk regally and at the same time very openly among the guests. Many are his friends. The ceremony ends with his grateful bow to the hobbits as the whole court follows his example. And with that begins the feast.

The great hall of the palace is decorated and festive. The long tables are filled with food and drinks. People flood the hall, taking their places. You watch the whole Fellowship find themselves close to the king. And your own place is somehow not that far away as well. Just among the members of the few remaining noble families of Gondor, blending you in with them.

As the feast progresses more wine bottles are opened. So far you managed to avoid the many cups of wine being offered by neighbors at the table, but it was getting noticeably harder. Some surely mistook you for a daughter of some less well-known, but clearly wealthy family, that would make for a good bride for one of their many sons. Before the direct confrontation becomes unavoidable you get away from the table and into a side gallery. Unsure as to where you should be going, you escape onto a balcony. It's empty and the scenery is beautiful. Fresh air is soothing against the heated skin.

You lean onto the parapet of the balcony, taking this chance to immerse in peace of the early night. Judging by the music, the dancing must have started, and that sounds like another perfect way to excuse yourself from the table later. But before you even decide to head back, you hear the sound of the balcony door slightly creaking at being opened and slow footsteps approaching.

You turn around and recognize Aragorn, who must have found a great time to sneak out of the spotlight relatively unnoticed. Back in the hall he looked nothing like the Ranger you once met, but here in the faint moonlight and subtle orange hues casted from the windows you can spot more similarities than before.

"Good evening, your majesty," you greet him politely with an appropriate bow.

Aragorn smiles faintly at your bow. He steps forward and leans on the parapet next to you. After a moment, he speaks, his voice more casual than it was earlier.

"You know, you don't need to call me by my title. Especially not while we're alone like this."

The suggestion catches you off guard. "I don't quite understand what should I call you then… or why that would even be possible," you confess your doubts.

He looks over at you and raises his eyebrows. "Why would it be possible to call me by my given name? Because I'm allowing it. For the time being, at least."

Aragorn turns to you completely so that he's leaning against the parapet, with one arm resting on it. The simple action bringing color to your face as you get to see him fully. "You met me before I was king. As far as I'm concerned, that means you still have the right to call me something other than 'your majesty' when we are alone, like this."

"There're many people in this city and beyond its walls who have met you before, Aragorn," his name feels almost alien on your tongue. "But I doubt that they all receive the same… treatment."

The king lets out a small huff and smiles faintly. "No, I suppose not. I doubt I'd be able to recognize any of them, for starters. You, however, were more memorable…"

He gives you a brief once-over. "You were more memorable," he repeats, his gaze fixed on you for a moment before he looks away and back out at the city. "It could be a mere coincidence, but I trust my fate and its signs. My visit to Minas Tirith eight years ago was the last one. It was the time when I attempted to make the final decision of whether to follow the path of an heir or give up. The way I was greeted with dozens of insults and many more curses in the streets of the White city was the sign that I assumed to be an advice against pursuing my right for the throne. You showed up before my eyes right when I was ready to give up. So young and eager, so welcoming and confident. I couldn't tear my eyes away from you. You seemed as the very essence of the new Era. You singlehandedly charged something within me with this new will to fight for such future."

You stand there too stunned to say a single word, your mind racing with thoughts. You would never expect to hear something of the kind. The way you acted during that first encounter was a surprise to you as well, as if… well, as if fate pushed you to be more hospitable and welcoming to this stranger.

The more you keep thinking about his words the brighter the scarlet tone on your cheeks turns. You try to get rid of the definitely wrong ideas you got, but they just keep reappearing in your troubled mind.

Aragorn glances over at you and takes notice of the shade of red creeping over your cheeks. He can't help but give a small chuckle. "And now you're blushing again. I wonder why?"

He reaches forward and carefully takes your chin, his hand tilting your face up towards him slightly. "What could possibly be going through that mind of yours, I wonder…"

Your eyes dart to his with righteous indignation. "You know what!" you exclaim rather impolitely, but continue in a much calmer, quieter manner. "How could you be speaking of fate so easily…"

Aragorn lifts an eyebrow in amusement as your voice rises then falls off again. His grip loosens a little, his fingers now resting on your cheek, still turning your face to look up at him.

"You don't like the concept of fate?" he asks, with a faint smile. "You don't think the right people can meet at the right time?"

"No, that's not what I meant. However, you sound so sure of the way you interpret those signs of fate. As humans we are only able to follow the path prepared for us, not knowing what lays ahead, aren't we?" you say trying to explain your mind's confusion. "But you seem to understand more, and that seems impossible to me. Especially, when," you pause for a moment searching for the right words. "When I somehow get involved in your fate."

He looks at your expression, studying your eyes and face, his fingers still touching your skin as he speaks.

"You are involved in my fate," Aragorn says, his voice low and serious. "You have been for a long time, whether you knew it or not. But I knew it. Not long after we first met. I knew there was a greater purpose to that encounter, even if you did not. And I made sure to be grateful for your timely appearance. Though I must admit there might be more than just gratefulness…"

He removes his hand from your face and makes a few steps towards the door back into the hall before turning around and facing you once more. "Dancing will continue for another hour, but it would be a shame if the king doesn't dance even once because a beautiful lady decided to spend her whole night on a balcony, right?"

Your gaze glides over his hopeful gray eyes and faint smile until it finally lands on his outstretched hand.

#aragorn x reader #lotr #lotr x reader #aragorn #oneshot

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ravenstargames · 3 months ago

Text

✦ Lost in Limbo Demo — Feedback gathering!

Hello everyone!

Here we are today with a quite long post about the feedback we have received since our demo became available this past Wednesday. First of all, we want to thank you all for more than 700 downloads on itch, and more than 1000 on Steam. That's crazy! 💜

82 of you have completed our demo survey, helping this feedback gathering be way easier! We'll start with the non-spoiler stuff, and move to spoiler territory so those of you who have not been able to try out the demo yet can rest easy!

Before we start, however—

THE DEMO *HAS* 7 CGS!

If you are missing one, then it means you can obtain it by playing once more! We'll make sure to highlight this note everywhere, as some people have been confused about Amon/Envy not having a CG, or not having a scene to shine, which they do! We apologize for not making this super clear, as it's noted on our itch.io page, but under "Features", when it should have been everywhere and in big bold letters!

✦ THE GATHERED FEEDBACK WILL BE IMPLEMENTED IN OUR EXTENDED FREE DEMO

As of now, no major changes will be done to our first demo, sadly because there's no time. We are focusing on getting our Kickstarter out there and on creating high-quality content that may help us fund the full game. The first thing we'll work on if our Kickstarter is successful is the Extended Free Demo, which will see all the feedback you've given us implemented!

✦ OVERALL ENJOYMENT OF THE DEMO

More than 96% of players who did our survey enjoyed (or greatly enjoyed!) our demo, which is fantastic! We have to take this with a grain of salt, because those who didn't have a good time probably didn't finish playing it. Those who didn't enjoy the demo that much left their personal feedback, so we are super grateful for the effort of sharing their thoughts even if they didn't have fun.

✦ PACING OF THE DEMO

Most players thought the pacing was good! Some noted that the demo starts off slow (which we kind of knew—more on that below!), while others thought the demo rushes a bit to show all the love interests.

Me, the writer, and our editor Allie, knew this, so it doesn't come up as a surprise. Just to give you all some insight, as surely not all of you have been following us since we started posting about LiL; our original demo was way longer than what it ended up being. We ended up rewriting and scrapping a lot of that because it was too much work for the four of us. There were a lot more sprites and backgrounds to work on, and we decided we wanted to focus on the love interests (as they are the thing that will decide whether players want to support us or not) even if that meant the pacing wasn't perfect.

We didn't want the demo development to last another year, so we had to give a bit of story context in our actual demo without info-dumping absolutely everything, and we had to get to the love interests "fast" enough for people not to get bored while not going "fast" enough for it to feel too rushed.

Whether we did a good job or not is up to the players, and of course this feedback will help us to improve the pacing in our Extended Demo. I can only hope we have the chance to work on it to show our real vision of the demo and prologue and implement the feedback given to us when it comes to the writing / pacing, without the pressure of getting ourselves out there as soon as possible to find out if we'll be able to support ourselves and our work or not!

✦ THE TONE

The vast majority of players enjoyed the way the demo stablishes the tone of the game! Those who didn't thought the serious tone being mixed with the funny / quirky moments wasn't well done, which is completely valid!

✦ THE PLOT

93% of surveyed players thought the plot was well stablished! Luckily, there's no "I understood nothing", so that's a good sign so far! Some players noted that they felt lost but that feeling lost was the point (which it was!).

One player suggested to have the definition of important words somewhere, which will be the purpose of the Compendium in the full game! If you have played Alaris' , Crescence has a similar feature where you can place your mouse on top of a highlighted word and get an explanation of it! That's something we want to implement for the full game.

✦ ASPECTS PEOPLE LIKED ABOUT THE DEMO, AND WHAT CAN BE IMPROVED

Players generally liked the art, the story, and the characters, which is great!

People seemed to agree on wanting MORE CHOICES, and we were given advice on some parts of the current demo that would benefit of an extra choice or a choice to begin with.

We'll keep this in mind for the Extended Demo, which should give you all more time to enjoy the flavor choices and other aspects of our choice systems. Also, some of you wished for a button to turn off timed choices, which...

...Is something we decided we wanted way before starting to code the demo. Our UI artist, Alice, implemented this in our configuration screen mock-up, but I ended up being unable to program this feature. I didn't know how to do it, and with my newbie abilities it seemed impossible to achieve, so we decided to wait for the Extended demo so I had time to ask around, read, and grasp the best way to do this. I'm sorry T_T.

✦ AS FOR THE CHARACTERS (MC included)...

And this is spoiler territory!

Some people disliked Amon's southern accent (which he's very sad about), some people felt really betrayed by Gael (poor thing), and some wanted to push Envy down a set of stairs (completely valid).

Some didn't like Pride because he's "an old fart" (he's the God of Old Farts, in fact), some wanted for the MC to be able to be more aggressive towards characters like Raeya, and some thought Ara was too nice, Xal too goofy, and that took away the seriousness of the situation.

These are not the majority (everyone had their favorite and their least liked, but you all seemed happy with our cast!) but these opinions are completely valid and we wanted to highlight them.

River was liked enough for a 3~ hour demo, which we are happy about.

The majority of players thought they were relatable and liked the fact that they had a personality outside of choices; others thought there should've been more choices to really differentiate the possible personalities you can choose for the MC, and others noted it was hard to self-insert.

River is not written to be a completely blank slate, which is something we note in our Tumblr Masterpost but that should've been added to the itch page. We apologize for the confusion this may have generated. We wanted (and want) to create a balance between River being a proper character and for it to still allow some kind of self-insert and personalization. We know this will be difficult, but it's something we want to work on and we are confident we can achive a correct balance.

In the Extended Demo and full game, you'll have a chance to personalize some of River's tastes to match your own MC or your self-insert. For example, River plays the guitar, but you'll be able to select whether they're good at it, if they took classes, if they.....suck at it, or if they play another instrument.

This will, of course, only happen in the "flavor" and "personality" choices. Sadly, you won't be able to choose to a T what the MC does at any given time.

And that's all for now! I hope this post has been informative, and please don't hesitate to direct more feedback our way to help us improve. We are still reading your asks, gathering info and feedback from players and other devs, and thinking about the best way to bring those suggestions to life.

Thank you all so so much for the incredible support; for gifting us your time with reviews, feedback, or encouraging words. We hope we can keep working hard and bringing Lost in Limbo's demo to its full potential!

#lost in limbo #visual novel #otome #indiedev

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writing-havoc · 2 years ago

Note

HEY! HOW ARE YOU? would you be willing to make a kaz brekker x reader? if possible a soulmate au? I'm obsessed with this trope! maybe name on the wrist or the one where with just a touch of skin you see the colors? I imagine one where r is not part of the dregs but is quite indifferent/receptive to the fact that kaz is the leader of a gang. r is a seamstress, using her skills to hide that she is a fabrikator, and she (can be gn if you want!) and kaz know they are soulmates, though they never talk about it. they can even be a 'thing' secretly, and it would be adorable if they were both childhood friends. maybe before the events of SoC kaz decided to make their relationship official (with a request for courtship alá brekker or even a marriage on paper) and after CK he is even more desperate for this, wanting to protect r at all costs. oh, it would be very interesting if r had a younger sister aged 8/9 who loves kaz and vice versa since she is very quiet and obedient and loves to listen to kaz's stories. even better if he secretly called her little crow. bonus if the girl's name is astra and she is also a hidden grisha, an inferni or another etherealki i would love to see this from your point of view and with her writing it would be amazing but feel free to decline if you don't want to. Did I already say that you write very well? well then know. YOU ARE INCREDIBLY TALENTED!!!!!!

Silent tears

♡ Summary: Before the events of the ice court, Kaz feels relatively content with his feelings and relationship with you. After? Not so much.

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Mentions vomit a few times, Gun, Death, uses yn twice

♡ WC: 5.4k

Aaaa thank you sm for this request!! Loved all the little details I had to include. It was interesting writing for a reader that wasn't part of the dregs.

Thank you for your kind words <3

I made Astra a Squallor here. And it's up to your interpretation if the reader and Kaz are dating or otherwise before the ending.

As always, please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

The sound of a sewing machine filled the small shop. It was loud, punching the table he knows it's rested on and creating a rumbling in the floor.

Gowns and suits and vests filled the racks around the store, some on display on fake bodices. They wore outfits, tantalizing window shoppers to enter and run their fingers along the fabrics.

The velveteen looked high quality, mixed with some sort of spandex fabric around the waist to hug its wearer. Pearls and lace flow across shoulders and down the side of gowns, some even including embroidery.

As he moved along, suits and gowns turns into vests and petticoats. The walls were decorated with hats of various function, most made for looks and flare rather than functionality. Behind the desk even existed a rack of long coats and various sweaters, more than likely just to fill up space than to be sold.

The sound ceased, and he rung the bell at the desk.

"Coming!" Called a voice. He stopped himself from smoothing out his own coat, in turn adjusting his gloves.

Heavy footsteps presented him with your kind figure, heels unconsciously stomping against the wood floor compared to the concrete of the backroom.

You smiled at him, picking off little strings of thread the fell into your lap and stuffing them into a pouch at your side.

"I've just finished your order." He felt just as much as he seen you change from business to something more lax, shoulders drooping and the lines between your brows disappearing. "Gimme one moment to put everything in the box- oh, would you turn the sign around, please?"

"A bit all over the place, are we?" He turned around, hearing you release a big sigh.

"Just about, it seems."

The people walking outside turned to look at the store, smiles on their faces. It was mildly amusing to watch them fall as he turned the sign, giving him a glare as he continued to stare them down. He didn't turn until they left, everyone else's eyes only flashing to the window for a moment before diverting elsewhere the second the closed sign came into view.

Window shopping is pointless when the building is closed.

"You wanted... two suits, one the shade of coal and the other a light purple, a wine red gown, a mask, and a pair of gloves?"

He turned his attention back to you, holding a rather large, yet flat, wooden crate. The inside was filled with the colors you just mentioned, a pair of leather gloves on top acting as paperweights for his order.

You set the crate down for him to look through. He removes the paper, taking the gloves into his hands and holding them out to examine.

And admire.

You aren't a leatherworker. You're a seamstress. And yet, you make the finest pair of leather gloves he has ever seen. Sometimes he'll even catch little designs marked into the gloves, the integrity of the material somehow unfazed.

"Make the slits bigger. Just two millimeters." He hands them to you.

You raise a brow, knowing that you made everything to his usual specifications.

But you take them back, entertaining him. You look at the locked door, and then raise your hand over the gloves.

Grisha power isnt super fascinating to him anymore. When he was little he would beg you to demonstrate your power, handing you pieces of worn fabric to do as you pleased with.

He would watch the thin threads thickened and the material became warped around the edges. Jordie would stand next to him, watching you solely because Kaz dragged him over every single time. You would hold out the newly mended piece of cloth, and he and his brother would clap ans rejoice.

But he still likes to watch you work. To see as your mouth opens and your tongue folds over your canines as you focused.

You give them back to him, and he inspects them once more.

"These will do." He ends up saying, appreciation left for the darker hours in the night.

You roll your eyes and rustle around with the paper held underneath your arm, fingers quickly calculating the math of the order.

Usually he doesn't do a batch of this size while he's still figuring out a job, but the way he sees it there's no way he can't have just about everybody present. Which these days is incredibly rare.

A pin is taken from the cushion on your wrist, planting itself into the red gown. But as you take out two pieces of paper, writing probably a total and your name, he can't help but stare at the ink peeking out from beneath it.

He knows what it says, just as well as he knows the name on his own.

He's seen it once as you pulled up your sleeve during the summer, the fine etching displaying his name, his old name, clear as day before you hurriedly slipped the pin cushion back onto it. He looked away that day, pretending he didn't see.

It feels so much harder to pretend now.

"This is your total. And I will need your signature on both of them, Mr. Brekker."

Your smile is playful, then. As he takes the pen from your outstretched hand.

"As I've told you before, yn, Kaz is fine."

"Oh, but how could I be so informal, Mr. Brekker?" You put your hand on your chest, face twisted into a poor impression of someone who has just been scandalized. "We are business partners, after all."

And just like in those books you always read, he feels his eyes soften, if only a bit as his brows and jaw relax. "Business partners doesn't cover the surface."

You take the confession and relax with it, rubbing the center of your chest. "You're right."

He thinks back to a time when you were both little, each staring at your blank wrist with solemn eyes. He would look at you as you rubbed the soft skin, fingertips and dirty nails gently tracing lines into it.

He would sit next to you, shoulders knocking together, and you would look up at him, expression changing as you grabbed his wrist and squeezed it.

At the time, he would never say it, the thought turning his ears pink and quickening his adolescent heart, but he would hope that your wrists would match, displaying the others name. He would hope that one day that sad and far off face would cease to exist, and instead would be full of complete and utter joy as you looked at him and exclaim that you knew it. Because you wanted him, too.

But now that he knows, he still wouldn't say anything. You never said anything, and he wasn't in any position or state of mind to say anything to you when he eventually saw his, ash sticky and cold flesh tainting the memory, your scream as you watched him swim to the harbor on Jordie's corpse, and his own as you went to grab him.

It stays locked away, with the rest of the things that feel too hard to touch.

He signs a fake name on both of them, taking one and handing the other to you for your personal records, and then takes out the kruge and hands it to you.

"Is Dirix out back to handle these or do you want a bag for them?"

He sighs. "Dirix is down at the Harbour. A bag will have to do."

"Can I pick the bag?" A new voice calls from the backroom.

He holds back a smile, but fails to stop the corner of his lips from turning up temporarily. He averts his eyes to the doorway where a little girl peeks around the corner, a wide smile on her face as she looks right at him.

"Of course, Astra." You say, and immediately she scurried up to the counter to take a look at the load she has to find a bag for.

Your younger sister, Astra, was moved up here a few years after you were, your parents having passed from the flu and grandparents too old to take on the task of raising a six year old. Much less a six year old who could summon the wind at any time she wants.

Thankfully, you had started your seamstress business a year before that, and had this store with your living space up above to take her in with.

Business was always booming here, your talent for fabrics and all things fashion put on display and loved by the masses. You spent pretty much your entire life studying the trends that wormed their way here, even getting ahead of the train numerous times and working into the darkest hours to make your profit.

Now you can afford the more pricey fabrics, and get the attention of the richer folk over in the Geldstraat.

He helps, of course, with his dirty work.

"I know the perfect one." Astra scurries away.

You chuckle, hearing a small "wow!" and a flurry of footsteps. "She's going to pick the most obnoxious bag, I hope you know."

He takes a breath then, and looks down at the gloves still in his hand. "I wouldn't expect anything less from her."

There's a moment of silence, watching you from his peripheral as you stare at the gloves too.

"I didnt like the last pair." You admit. "So I made the design more low-key. The last one was too flashy for your aesthetic."

He's wearing those gloves now, and they aren't even flashy. The design is just slightly more pronounced.

The way you measure how flashy something is has a much smaller threshold than most. Even by his standards, it's very small, and he's far from the most colorful being in Ketterdam.

Astra comes back with, of course, a large bright pink fabric bag, twine tied in the shape of a flower tied around the handles.

"Good choice!" You praise, taking the clothes out of the crate and laying them neatly in the bag while she beams at him.

"Do you like the bag?"

And normally, he'd say something incredibly passive aggressive.

But he actually likes Astra, and knows how easy it is to stamp out a child's heart, that level of emotional regulation and individuality not yet found in them.

"Its wonderful, little crow."

"Alright, give this to him, like I showed you." You pushed her along, and she rounded the counter, holding the sides of the bag, leaving the handles free for him to grab.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't just a little moved by that.

Astra wasn't allowed to help you until a few months ago, when she basically got on her hands and knees and begged to be of some help. You claim that you didn't give in right away, but he knows you better than that.

You have told her that he doesn't like to be touched, and it was a little hard for such a touch reliant girl to wrap her mind around that. After a few close calls, she got the general idea down.

"Pleasure doing business with you." He tips his hat, and watches as her little cheeks become pink as she curtsies.

"Ill be making stew like my mom made if you want to stop by later." You suggest.

Astra grins from ear to ear. "But not too later, if you can help it. I want to hear another story."

"At this rate I won't have any stories left to tell you."

She thinks about that for a moment, lips pursing and looking around the room. "Oh!" She shouts, face lighting up. "Can you tell me that one story again? About you and my sister getting lost in the woods down south?"

He pretends to think about it, looking around the room as if in search for the memory. "I think I can do that. You and your sister might have to fill in on some of the details, though."

She grins, pride welling up in her chest that she puffs out, holding out her hand. "The deal is the deal."

He takes her hand into his, giving it a firm shake. "The deal is the deal."

Kaz takes a moment to look back up at you, and his heart nearly leaps out his chest when he sees the way you're looking at him, a small smile he doesn't think he's seen before and eyes filled with so /much/ that he's surprised your whole eye isn't black. Your head rests into your fingers, arm wrapped around your waist. It's an expression he's seen rarely, but it always seems to catch him off guard.

It looks a lot like yearning, he thinks.

But he puts it away for later.

When you catch that he's looking, you take a deep breath, schooling your expression and wiping off imaginary dust from your clothes.

"Alright Astra, Kaz has important business to attend to."

Astra pouts from beside him, but gives him her goodbyes and walks into the backroom again.

He straightens. It's oddly difficult to keep eye contact with you, but he does anyway, flicking between the both of them.

"If I have time, I'll stop by." He gives in.

You're happy with that. "Ill even add extra broth for you."

"Sweetening the offer I see."

You put your hands on your hips, shrugging. "A girl's got to do what she's got to do."

The implications of that are hefty, too hefty with a cane in one hand and a bright pink bag of clothes in the other.

So he ignores it, and nods, taking his leave out the front door and back to the Slat.

-----

He stares at the plan before him in his mind, going over each and every way this can and probably will go sideways.

Breaking into the most secure prison in probably the whole world with nothing more than the scrapings of a plan, one of the essential persons in a different prison, and your presense completely plaguing his mind.

The third one isn't exactly new, but he can't help but think about you when his survival rate went from low on the daily average to basically zero with one handshake.

But thirty million kruge...

Thirty million kruge could go a long way. That's four million for him, most of which he could put towards the crow club and expanding his empire, taking down Pekka, and securing his place as one of the top bosses in Ketterdam.

He could secure his place in the food chain, and maybe, maybe then he...

Maybe.

He entertains the thought of a marriage certificate. Having something that ties you and him together both eternally and in the eyes of everyone else. Being able to hold that slip of paper when he can't hold your hand and feeling like it matters.

It's hard to keep the thought away, now that he's alone with a glass of kvas and death staring him in the eyes.

He doesn't plan on dying soon. Not for a long time. He has vengeance to exact and many more dinners to join you for.

But it's a very real possibility, and he must debate with himself going to you and telling you all this before he leaves.

If it was any other job, Kaz would send Inej to tell you that he would be gone for a few days and to not expect him. If it was literally any other job, he wouldn't even consider getting up from his chair, marching down those stairs and up yours, and discussing the undiscussable to at least satisfy the gnawing in his stomach.

Because he knows that if you find out he died and he knew that he was basically guaranteed to do so and he didn't bother to tell you himself, you would never forgive him.

Granted, he would be dead, so in theory it doesn't matter.

He picks up his cane and gloves, shoving them over his hands and throwing on his long coat. He doesn't even have to look at the coat rack to find his hat, putting it on and making his way out of the Slat and to your address without a word to anyone else.

The theories mean nothing, in the face of reality.

You're making stew with extra broth, he might die in a few days, and he doesn't want you to think ill of him when he can't look you in the eye and try to convince you to feel otherwise.

As the cold bites his nose, he thinks back to that look you were giving him when he made that deal with your sister.

It's nearly enough to make him turn around, muscles tingling and a shiver rolling down his back that's unrelated to the cold. He feels sick. Warm and a feeling in his stomach he only feels late in the night in the comfort of his own bed.

He can't do this.

He picks the lock on your door.

He can't tell you.

He opens the door, locking it behind him.

He can't think of you like that.

He walks up the stairs, the smell of stew just barely reaching his senses as he enters the kitchen.

He can't.

You're sitting at the table, two empty bowls on the table and fabric thrown over your legs, threading them together. Your finger is bleeding, and he wants to wipe it away.

"You're late." You smile, eyelids heavy.

He takes off his hat, putting it on the hook you installed when he started coming over. "Or I'm just in time."

You laugh quietly, sticking the needle in the fabric and pulling it off your lap. "Just in time about sums it up."

He's a monster.

You turn your back to him and enter your room, draping the project on your desk.

The pot is still steaming, and his throat feels clogged.

"Ill be gone for a while."

You turn around, and he can't watch you anymore. He takes off his coat and drapes it over the chair.

"How long?" Your voice is soft, approaching him.

"Few weeks."

He's a coward.

You hum, setting down a bowl of stew with extra broth in front of him. "Thats a long time, even for you."

He clenched his jaw, heart pounding in his ears. The light catches the stew, making rainbows in the broth. Chunks of lamb, potatoes, pieces of ham, carrots, and greens he can't see dance in the soup as he stirs it.

"Bigger reward for the troubles." Is all he says.

The troubles, he thinks, that he can't get past the lump in his throat. The trouble that you of all people deserve to know.

He glances up at you, and he recognizes the look on your face all too well.

You're very aware of his gang affiliation.

He actually attempted to cut ties with you after he got associated with the Dregs. You threw a crate at him and called him mad for suggesting as such. He only risked to bring it up one other time, and you had yelled at him and about cried when he turned to leave, throwing a rock at his freshly poorly healed leg.

He swiveled around at glared at you, but you didn't flinch in the face of Dirtyhands. Just glared at him, told him you're not going anywhere, and then left /him/ before he could protest.

It took him a week to figure out that, despite you not wanting to cut ties with him, you didn't completely agree either. You didn't bother trying to convince him to leave, but you have on numerous occasions begged him to be careful, adorning this exhausted look.

You don't say a lot anymore, but the expression has stayed relatively the same, if a bit rounder on the edges.

"How bad?" You asked.

He abhors the way his heart squeezes, like it has a mind of its own while his brain yells at him to keep you out of it.

He wants to throw up.

How does he tell you there's a greater chance than not he'll die, now matter how much he wants to make it back to you?

How does he tell you you might never get to see him again? Or see Jesper or Inej?

He swallowed some broth, licking his lips.

"Pretty bad."

He's such a fucking coward.

"Ynnn." He hears a hoarse voice call. He looks up, seeing Astra stroll in and rest her chin on the kitchen table. "You didnt tell me Kaz finally came."

When he looks at you to see your response, its to his absolute horror that he catches you wiping your eyes, then pull your little sister to your side.

"You were sleeping. I didn't want to wake you."

"M'you should've."

You glance up at him, and smile against Astra's hair.

"You're right. I should've."

-----

'Damn it all,' he thought in a panic. 'Damn everything. Go find them.'

It was a dangerous, recurring thought that he had when he went anywhere near the Zelver District, whenever he had to go through the canals that run along its edge and connect to nearly every other canal.

Even now as he puts everything in place to send Kuwei off on a fake bodyboat. It only half surprises him that the sight doesn't make him all that uncomfortable. He's exhausted, lovesick, and has had the experience of several lifetimes within just a few weeks.

He wanted to send word to you to stay put during the alarms. But Pekka's crew strolled through your storefront not a few days ago, asking about your wares and probing for information. Inej had seen as such when she finally had the opportunity to check on you.

There was no guarantee that this plan would work. Pekka would have been dealt with regardless but the auction with Kuwei could have gone differently. No matter the confidence with which he laid out facts or with Wylan's newfound acting skills, there were too many variables that relied heavily on the actions of people outside his control.

It worked out, though. But now he has to worry about being unable to find you. It makes him nauseous. He actually feels his mouth begin to fill with saliva, but he keeps it down. Right now, he just has to get rid of Kuwei, and send off Colm, Nina, and Matthias to the boats that will take them to their respective countries.

A small part of his conscious nags at him. Of course he feels grief for his fallen Crow, incomparable to the grief Nina will have to face for the rest of her life.

But there's that much larger part of him that can't feel anything except the itching for your eyes on him.

Kaz makes a snarky comment about Kuwei's dead position, and leaves everyone to fill in the silence around him. There isn't much talking, aside from Jesper and his father, and then they're hugging and parting.

He hardly has it in him to stay while they leave, and eventually, before they even disappear from his eyesight, he's turning and marching up the Van Eck lawn towards the Zelver District.

He feels like he's going insane. Energy is surging through him like there's a heartrender pumping his system. When everything becomes familiar, that coffee shop you like with the Stroopwafel's coming into view, he can't help but break out into a run.

His leg feels like it may splinter.

But he's 4 million kruge richer, and he has something to ask you.

He's learned a lot, quite a bit of it against his will, since he left for Fjerda.

He will not let you become another life lesson.

Your door comes into view, and he nearly slams into it when his legs can't seem to stop and one of them is straining against his own body weight.

The lock picks nearly fell to the floor before he manages to unlock the store. He didn't even let the door close behind him before he rocketed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

You were at the top, rifle in hand, pointing it at him with a fierceness in your eyes.

It all but crumbled when you seen who he was.

"Kaz?" You called, disbelief choking your words.

It takes a moment for him to catch his breath, most of his gasping done before he unlocked the door. But again, hes exhausted and lovesick, so air isnt really a luxury he seems to be able to afford. "The bruises don't make me that unrecognizable." He stands straighter, favoring his left leg.

You had half the mind to put the rifle on your kitchen table before you completely broke down in tears. Your arms hug your sides while your eyes boil over with tears and hot rage.

"You're such an asshole!" You yelled. "Getting put on the Stadwatch and the entire barrels shitlist? What the fuck kind of job did you take?"

He stepped forward, setting his cane next to your rifle and dropping into the chair next to you.

It still made his skin crawl. It still made his lungs burn with freezing cold water. It still made deadly blue hands grip at his legs and pull him under.

But he reached out, pulled you between his legs, and hugged your body to his, his cheek resting against your stomach.

You were warm. So very warm from working yourself up. And stiff. He could feel it under his arms as your thighs stuck together and the muscles surrounding your spine tightened into stone.

"Ka-Kaz?"

He ignored you in favor of ignoring his own body, tightening you into him as the waters punched his stomach and licked up his back.

You were warm, and as you relaxed, his face further sinking into your stomach, the water began to still. Still crushing against his organs, but not going any further.

Tears pushed on the back of his eyes. He squeezed them shut, taking in a shakey breath.

He was doing it. He was holding you, touching you, and it only made half his mind scream to be yanked away.

"I fought." He whispered. "I fought to come back." He swallows. "To you."

Tears thumped against the crown of his skull. He could hear your heart pounding despite its location.

"You left-" Your voice cut off in a squeak. Clearing your throat, he could feel, felt like a chore. "You left. And then you didn't come back. Your face was all over Ketterdam, and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't eat I couldn't sleep- I couldn't answer Astra's questions because I didn't know anything-"

"I was tricked." He gritted his teeth, loosening his grip on you just as you reached down and dragged your fingers over his shoulder, fixing a loose thread. "Deceived, and made a complete fool out of. I couldn't come back because they would have got you too."

Your fingers stopped. "Who did they get?"

A few tears leaked out the side of his eyes. The only tears, he decided, he was going to allow through. He was not a crier. And he had no intention of becoming one.

"Inej." You gasped, hand flying away from his head to cover your mouth, he would presume. "Which is why I couldn't get word to you. Why you had to remain in the dark."

He pulled back, looking up at your tear stained face. You wiped them away, sniffing up any snot that remained in your nose and cleared your throat.

For a while you didn't speak. You just stared at him. His hands had fallen to his knees, fingers barely touching your leg while your own held your elbows.

You were deep in thought. Occasionally a silent tear would work it's way down your cheek and tick against the floor. He remained still, watching as you worked your way through your thoughts.

Whatever you had to say, you were fighting for a better way to word it.

Eventually you reached out, swallowing as you searched for any indication he would retreat.

Instead he stared you head on, sweat building on brow. He was all touched out at the moment, but you wanted this. And he thinks it's the least you deserved after the complete emotional shipwreck he just put you through.

Your thumb brushed over his bruises, watching him wince when you accidentally pushed on them.

Scabs had begun to form over some of the wounds he refused to be healed. Two thin lines on his lips, one on his cheek, and one to his brow. You went over all of them, touching his lips last.

He thinks you meant to do that.

"If I had known this would be my fate when I saw my name on your wrist when we were children," you whispered, "I'd have slapped you stupid."

That makes his lips twitch. "And now?"

You swallow again, carefully brushing his hair away from his forehead so that your nails barely scratched the surface. "Now, I just want to look at you." You smiled, taking your hand back. "Somebody's already slapped you stupid for me."

"Believe me, there was no slapping."

The words make your smile disappear. He regrets saying them.

Somethings missing though, and he realizes it a lot later than he likes.

"Where's Astra?"

You smile, an airy breath escaping your nose. "She went down about half an hour before you stormed in here."

"You didn't send her off to your grandparents when the sirens went off?"

You scoffed. "And go where you couldn't find us?" You looked down, scuffing the floor with your sock covered feet. "You'd have lost your mind."

And that, you knowing him so intrinsically, is what he's going to use as an excuse for what he says next.

"Marry me."

It's so unlike him. He should have been less forward about it. Presented it to you like a business offer instead of demanding it of you.

Your head snaps up. Eyes wide as they stare at him.

"What?"

He scoots back, chair scraping across the floor as he stands.

"I do not present this to you lightly. After the events that have taken place, there will only be more people willing to tear me down. People who will want to use you to get to me."

The thought almost makes him want to back out. But if Kaz Brekker is anything, he is not someone who back tracks.

"It would be done in private. No one would know but the Dregs, or only the Crows, and your family. But if anybody does any digging and finds that certificate, you and Astra would be in danger."

You continue to stare, eyes still wide and mouth agape.

Sweat beads down his back, not helped by the long coat he neglected to take off. He also realizes that he's lost his hat somewhere on the way here, probably flown off in his rush to get here.

You close your mouth, clearing your throat. "I will marry you, Kaz, on one condition."

He shifts on his feet, leg still horribly sore. "That is?"

You cant help but smile. "I won't have to wear white."

And a giddy, childish sort of glee bubbles in his chest. There isn't anything, he thinks, that could have stopped the smile forming in his face, growing so wide as to show teeth. "You could wear the muckiest yellow the nation as to offer if you so wished."

Your nose scrunches, and one day he thinks he could kiss it.

"Astra will want to hear about your adventure." He could see your exhaustion from just thinking about that, your gaze averting once again to her door. "She'll be so excited to hear about your proposal too."

He follows your gaze, seeing the little drawing nailed to surface of her door.

One of them shows you and him with smiling faces, a little heart above your heads. You're holding hands, Kaz's gloves a distinct part of the portrait, with Astra above, clouds and a sun at the top of the page.

"Little crow will blow the entire building apart." He grimaces, thinking of a way to cover that up if the neighboring businesses hear it.

You sigh. "I have no idea what to do with her."

He turns back to you and leans forward, arms clasped behind his back as he presses his lips to your temple.

It didn't feel real, the way he could initiate touch despite his body screaming at him to stop. Your hair stuck to his lips as he pulled away, but it was worth it to see the way your face fell open, eyes boaring into his.

Silently, he tells you he'll get better. With time, a long time, he'll be able to hold your hand, kiss your lips, stand shoulder to shoulder and lay with you. He tells you that fleeting kisses and barriers will be a thing reserved for bad days only, and even on those bad days he'll still love you in other ways.

He thinks you understand.

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

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@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker

#ask #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows x reader #six of crows x y/n #six of crows x you #six of crows fanfic #fanfic #morrigan-crowmwell

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