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Little Darling I (Thomas Shelby x Reader)
Summary: Birmingham has received a new club, one that is showcasing a exotic type of dance that is drawing in crowds, but it is one particular dancer that catches Thomas Shelby's eye... one that goes by the stage name: Little Darling
Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, stripper!reader, eventual smut, swearing, drinking, mentions of prostitution/ sex work, canon Peaky Blinders violence
😊 Dividers by @firefly-graphics 😊 Banner by @vase-of-lilies
Part II
A new club in Peaky Blinder territory was something that always raised Tommy's attention; usually, he would pay no mind when they first pop up, but it seemed like this club was different.
The Scarlet Letter was what it was called, Tommy had been sitting in his office at Shelby Company Ltd. when John and Arthur had come in to report about this club. Apparently, the club was showcasing a unique type of dance with its female employees, one that involved the use of a pole?
"A bloody pole?" Tommy had scoffed at the mention. "How the bloody hell are these women dancing with a pole?"
"Have to go check it out to see", Arthur had replied with a cheeky grin. "From what we've heard, this club had been making money. No ties to any gangs either."
It was a sight to see inside The Scarlet Letter, women adorned in expensive lingerie, their hair adorned in pinned curls and lips painted a deep red, but what was interesting was they work masks that concealed half their face. Literal poles were scattered throughout the place, a barmaid and bartender maned two bars on either side of the place, both busy; sofas and booth seats surrounded some of the poles, paritions in certain parts of the building.
He noticed a few heavy built men guarding certain areas, Tommy realizing they were hired help for the women.
"Mr. Thomas Shelby", a voice boomed. "What a surprise to be seeing the Peaky Blinders in my establishment!"
Y/N ran the red lipstick over her lips, smacking her lips together to get the the color saturated onto her lips. The eyelash extensions she had glued on for the evening tying the whole look together as she made sure to careful wipe away any excess around her mouth just as the boss came in.
"Ladies", she boomed, "We got some big customers outside. Make sure to put on your best performances!"
Cherry Johnson was their boss, she was a woman of a tall stature with a loud, booming voice that commanded respect. But she was a good boss, always fair to them and making sure they were safe, she only had them dance or perform lap dances, never forcing them to go any further.
Cherry came over to her as Y/N was about to fix the mask on, "Y/N, do you mind taking on a particular client here?"
"What client?" she asked as she adjusted the mask and tied the ribbon to secure it.
She saw Cherry grin in the mirror, "Thomas Shelby. Told him I'd send him only the best of my girls."
Everyone had heard of Thomas Shelby, of the Peaky Blinders so she looked at Cherry with a little frown, her lips curled a little.
"He's an obvious big tipper, darling", Cherry said, Y/N sighed.
"Fine", Y/N said as she adjusted her corset. "But he better know the rules."
Cherry grinned even bigger if that was even possible.
Y/N waited behind the curtain, pushing her hair behind her shoulders as she waited for her arrival to be announced. They switched dancers every hour or so, changing sets and outfits, working the floor and private dances. She noticed that her two other co-workers, Babydoll and Lovely, were up next with her on the big stage.
"Hey there, Little Darling", Lovely said with a grin. "Heard the boss gave you some big fish to entertain."
"I just hope he isn't stingy with the tips", Y/N said as she heard Cherry begin to announce them.
"Look alive, ladies", Babydoll teased, "it's showtime."
Tommy leaned back in the plush velvet chair that was in front of the large stage, Arthur and John on either side of him as he inspected the area. Cherry, the boss, had told him that she was sending one of her best girls to dance for them, the crowd favorite, but Cherry had told him the rules and the biggest one was 'no touching'.
"Next up we got Lovely, Babydoll and your favorite... Little Darling!" Cherry announced to the eager crowd.
Tommy put his cigarette between his lips as he noticed the anticipation in John and Arthur, the eagerness in their bodies; Tommy wondered where Esme thought John was as she came out, a intricate corset and stockings piece with a garter on one plush thigh adorned her body. Pinned curls framed her masked face with those blood red, plump lips and sultry, bedroom lidded eyes that were just calling to him.
He didn't even notice his brothers be captivated by her or the other two dancers as she approached the pole, a sensual dance performed in front of him as she moved in a way he had never witnessed before. He noticed other patrons throwing... pounds? at them, the women sensually grabbing the bills and stuffing them into the attire.
"C'mon Tommy", John said, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him a little. "Let loose a little already."
His brothers were throwing notes onto the stage, Little Darling making a show of grabbing them and stuffing them into the corset with a wink. She was like a seductress on the stage, moving with the music, performing acrobatic moves on the pole, it amazed him so as he light another cigarette and placed it in his mouth, he reached into his inner coat pocket, grabbing some bills into his hand.
Little Darling gave him a seductive smile, moving from the pole and getting to her knees, begin to crawl towards him till she reached the end of the stage where he was; she tilted her head a little before she leaned forward, making a show of grabbing his hand that held the bills and guiding it to stuffing the bills into the front of her corset where her tits were.
She winked at him before blowing him a kiss.
Y/N made a good amount of money from her dancing on the stage, counting the pounds that were thrown before passing it to Cherry to take her part.
"Good show out there, N/N", Cherry said, handing her back the money she earned. "You got a private dance with a Mr. Shelby."
Y/N nodded, rolling her shoulders back before making sure her makeup was still good before heading to one of the private rooms.
Walking into one of the private rooms, she saw him there; the dimly light room only seemed to work in the man's favor, adding to the feeling of danger that already existed in the room. He had his cap off, it resting on one of the side tables in the room as he blew out a smoke of nicotine from his lips.
"Cherry tells me you're called Little Darling", Tommy said as she closed the door behind her.
"I am", she answered as she slowly walked towards them.
"Quite the performance you put on."
She moved to straddle his lap, draping her arms his shoulders with a lazy grin on her face.
"I could see you enjoyed it, very much."
She stared into his piercing blue eyes, she could see the lust swirling in his eyes as she begun to move her hips.
#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby x reader#peaky blinders#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders imagine#x reader#plus sized reader#chubby reader#reader insert#thomas shelby
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Sweet Thrill
mafia!Ari Levinson x female reader; mob boss Ari Levinson x female reader
summary: Many would consider your job as a dancer at Lloyd Hansen’s exclusive night club to be exciting or scary, but honestly you see it as predictable and stable. It’s mostly a routine. That’s until Ari Levinson enters the club. You draw his attention and he installs himself in your space, bringing fear and thrill along with him.
warnings: mostly consensual, but with a peppering of faint dub-con; soft dark Ari Levinson; possessive behavior; light pet play; fear kink; light Master/pet play; bdsm undertones; power imbalance; fingering; pet names; collaring; very very subtle degradation and humiliation (nothing hardcore)
You were used to the glow of the lightened platforms and curious eyes tracing your body as you wriggled against silk scarves. You entertained patrons of Hansen’s exclusive club three nights a week - a form of aerial dance with heavy drapes of silk, just with less acrobatics.
Lloyd knew his clientele. He knew some of them are bored and looking for typical visual entertainment, with a side of members-only high class to boost their moods. Some of his guests were more sophisticated, had less boring tastes.
Hence Lloyd’s idea to add unique performances to spice up the classic pole dancing routines, like belly dancers, or your sensual play with silk.
Since the performances were only that - a show no touch - you felt quite comfortable and confident. And Lloyd, for all his sociopathic ticks, paid really fucking good money. Enough for you to keep studying for your degree, without having to balance three different jobs.
Out there on the little round stage you focused on your dance and poses, sometimes a repetitive movement, and let your thoughts swim to what you needed to do the next day, or how to crack the problem in your studies; because the club’s patrons were only staring at you and no harm would come your way. No need to be wary.
Especially, since Lloyd made it very clear that his employees weren’t to be disturbed.
If it didn’t come with extra payment, anyway.
Yes, extra payment softened Lloyd’s harsh looks. Made him smirk triumphantly and have a talk with a dancer that caught someone’s attention, convincing her of the benefits.
You never considered such an offer to come your way. Your performance with silk scarves was perhaps an interesting change of pace for some, but never a desirable show they wanted to have right between their spread legs.
That is until Ari Levinson strolled into Lloyd’s club one night.
You weren’t even aware of his presence, your thoughts scrambling and rewriting the thesis you were currently working on in your studies as your body twisted against silk curtains, fabric slithering between your thighs and across your torso.
You had no idea how important, or how powerful that man was. You knew, mostly from gossip and the few observations you did yourself, that Lloyd played bigger games outside of the club. You never thought he dipped as deep to the dark side to have ties to a crime lord of Levinson’s caliber.
As you had no idea that a dark overlord of a whole fucking coast had unique tastes.
It was as you twisted between the silk, fingers clenched on the hanging scarves as you bent back, that your gaze landed on a tall, broad man in a dark suit who stepped so close to your podium.
Most intense blue eyes caught your gaze, making you freeze in your position. It was a look of wonder and pure hunger. A dark glint to it that made your heart race, as if you were a prey that sensed a deadly predator approaching, but it also sent a jolt straight to your core.
Patrons usually watched you with some mild admiration or interest, or disgusting type of lust. This man looked at you with desire for more than just wetting his cock in your cunt. He took in every inch of you, seemed as if he wanted to take all your thoughts as well.
It was more scary than leering glances, or lewd comments you heard on rare occasions.
At the end of the night, just when you were ready to slip away and drive home, Lloyd called you into his office.
For a second you feared he was about to complain about your shows not being interesting anymore, but the grin he flashed when you entered spoke of something entirely different.
“Cupcake!” He greeted you and with a flourish invited you over to a blue, kitsch sofa.
You sat there stunned when he told you that you’ve caught Ari Levinson’s attention - something (judging by Lloyd’s tone) that was very hard to do - and that he demanded you be exclusively booked for him.
Your shock deepened when Lloyd explained that Ari wasn’t asking for an occasional lap dance, but that you be taken off the main stage and perform in a private room. Only for him.
He paid Lloyd in advance, to have one of the rooms adjusted to fit your silk curtains over the little platform in the center of the room. Also offered to pay a triple wage of what a standard private dance cost. An offer Lloyd had no desire to refuse, since you unexpectedly appeared to be a golden goose.
And since Lloyd sweetened the request with a ready annex to your contract, stating that you’d be earning more for this exclusivity, you didn’t hesitate for long.
Perhaps you should have.
Perhaps, if you knew how out of your comfort zone you find yourself in, you’d decline and argue with Lloyd over it (though you had a feeling this one time he wouldn’t be a charming psychopath, but a manipulative and threatening bastard if you affronted his powerful client with your refusal).
That’s how you found yourself out of the familiarity of the main stage and bland stares you would have ignored, and on a round podium in a lush, dark interior of a private VIP room.
With Ari Levinson spread comfortably on the seats, a glass of whisky in his hand, watching you intently.
Your first evening performing only for him went quietly, somehow calming you down. He only watched you, made no comments, nor attempts to grab you. Merely asked you, between your dances, if you wanted something to drink or eat.
On your second evening he asked how you’ve been and nodded, pleased, when you replied with a shy smile. He extended his hand to you to help you climb up onto the platform. Then enjoyed your dancing.
Each time, however, you were unable to simply fall back into the mindless rhythm of your performance. Your thoughts wouldn’t just switch to think of other matters, because they were focused on the predator sitting in front of you.
Every part of you seemed to be acutely aware of his presence and attention.
He seemed fascinated. And hungry for every inch of you, inside and outside.
It terrified you.
How intense his scrutiny was, how dangerous it was to have a man like Ari Levinson interested in you in any matter; and how, when you went home afterwards, you bit onto your pillow to muffle your sounds as you got yourself off.
You read about it - how adrenaline and tension from stress can be lowered with a few orgasms.
You just weren’t quite sure if you only relieved nervousness, or if you were actually turned on.
Considering Levinson’s looks, arousal couldn’t be dismissed.
He was the hottest man you’ve ever seen. Big, easily towering over you. With muscles that strained the fabric of his clothes. His hair looked invitingly soft, his beard neatly trimmed and his lips plush and kissable.
And he kept looking at you - undressing you with his eyes, promising dark sinful things, but also seeing right through you and able to find (and use) your weaknesses.
When you finished your dance that evening, in a pose with the silk scarves wrapped around your arms and pulling them back as you bent forward, head bow low and ass up high, Ari slowly stood up.
He stepped close to the little stage and with the pads of his fingers tilted your chin up so you were looking up at him.
“Almost perfect,” he purred, leaning down a little, “all you need is for your brain to turn off completely.”
He smirked when you blinked confused.
“All these thoughts go through your head, does your brain ever stop? Do you ever go dumb, kitten?” He chuckled as your eyes got bigger. “I noticed you became more present in the scene when you started dancing for me, but there’s still so much overthinking.”
“Come.” He patted your cheek and motioned for you to get off the stage.
After a bit of less graceful struggling with the silk scarves - mostly due to nervousness Mr Levinson suddenly caused - you were ready to get down.
He helped you, his hand waiting for your fingers to slip into his hold. This time, once you found yourself on the floor level, he didn’t let you go. Instead, he sat down on the velvet seat and pulled you onto his lap.
You fell forward with a gasp, which turned into a squeak when he used both hands to grab your hips and make you straddle him.
With club patrons being fully dressed, usually in suits, and you wearing a set of lingerie, you were always exposed. However, now, being seated in Mr Levinson’s lap, you felt even more naked and vulnerable.
“S-sir!” You exclaimed, hands resting on his broad shoulders and trying to push yourself off of him.
“Shh, settle down, kitten.” He cooed. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”
You were about to point out that it already was, since you never had any guest touch you like he did at the moment. Much less have you straddling them.
“We can take things as slow as you need.” He rubbed his thumbs along the band of your white, lacy panties. “I will woo you as romantically, as you wish. But this-” Ari gripped your hips tighter and pulled you even closer, your core rubbing right over his bulge- “Is the endgame, kitten.”
“Mr Levinson.” Your fingers clenched on his shoulders as you tried to keep your breath from hitching at the delicious sensation. “I only dance for you.”
“No, kitten. You dance only for me.” Ari corrected.
“Dance being the key word here.” You frowned, but somehow you didn’t struggle to escape his hold.
Ari Levinson wasn’t a man whom one could escape easily. Over the weeks you learned bits and pieces, through others and your own curious research. It was all shrouded in a veil of mystery and disappearances, but you understood enough to realize he was a mobster with strict rules and lethal means.
Trying to fight him could end badly for you. At least that’s what logic suggested.
There was another part of you, which simply found the whole interaction thrilling.
I’m either really stupid, or I’ve gone mad, you thought to yourself as a shiver of arousal spread through your body at the dark glint in Ari’s eyes.
“Oh, kitten, you’ll be dancing for me in every sense of the word and more.” He tilted his head to the side, his gaze trained on your face then shifting down your body and back up.
“You’re a smart girl. I know you’re going for a degree, you have ambitious plans, extracurricular activities.”
You gulped, realizing Levinson did a background check on you. Maybe even pried into more private and supposedly secure aspects of your life.
“I’m sure you’ve done as much research on me as you could.” Ari continued in a calm tone. “You have a vague idea of who I am, what I deal with. And, like any smart girl, you’re probably scared. Am I right?”
You didn’t possess enough bravado (or stupidity) to deny it, so you nodded wordlessly.
“But it also turns you on, doesn’t it?” a corner of his mouth curled in a smirk.
“No!” You denied hastily, though you felt your face heat up.
Ari shook his head as he tsk-ed in reprimand. He squeezed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a little forcefully, but not hard enough to cause you pain.
Your nipples hardened instantly.
It felt as if your body was completely beyond your control. It slipped under Ari’s control.
“Don’t lie to me, kitten.” He warned you.
Before you managed to utter another objection, your lips parted on a gasp as you felt Ari’s other hand settle over your mound.
He slipped a thumb beneath the fabric of your panties; glided it over your clit and a smear of wetness that slowly sipped from between your folds.
“Not aroused, huh?” Ari snorted as he brought his hand up and sucked your glistening slick off his finger.
Your pupils dilated as you watched him wrap his pink lips over his thumb, your mind instantly creating an image of those lips sucking on your clit. Or your nipples. Tormenting each peak until it’s swollen and pulsing unbearably and you scream for mercy.
“Told you,” Ari sighed in mock-disappointment, “You’re thinking too much, kitten.”
Holding your chin in his grip, Ari slid his other hand down your body - over one of your breasts, your belly, your hip, and back down between your spread thighs.
“Thinking about what needs to be done. Thinking of what you should or shouldn’t be doing. Thinking how wrong it is to be turned on by being scared of what a dangerous bastard like me might do to a sweet, little kitten like you.”
His whole palm slid under the waistband of your panties; big fingers cupped your mound.
“You know what I’ll do to you?” Ari whispered, leaning close enough his lips nearly brushed yours.
“E v e r y t h i n g.” He chuckled darkly and your whole body shook.
“I’m going to do every filthy thing that gets this pussy wet.” Slowly, he dragged his fingers up and down over your folds. “I’m going to do everything that makes you smile. Everything that makes you happy.”
“Most of all… I’m going to do everything that turns your brain off.”
With those words, Ari slid a single digit into your hot, tingling cunt.
Your mouth opened, a wrecked whimper falling out. Your hands fisted the fabric of Ari’s shirt as his thumb started drawing fast, tight circles over your clit.
It quickly became a torment, having only one finger stretching your walls, but not moving, while your clit was being rubbed mercilessly, pushing you toward a climax with astonishing speed.
You tried to push your hips down, rock yourself on Ari’s finger and tempt him to do more with his hand. He squeezed your chin harder.
“Don’t.” He growled. “Don’t think of what you want, or need. Or what you assume I want. Your job isn’t to think. You just take what I give. I decide about everything.”
Maybe it was the way he tormented your clit, or his words that sank you into dark cushions of mindless pleasure, but you came with a force unknown to you until now.
None of your toys, or previous partners, made your vision go white and your body clench so painfully.
And it was only on one finger and some clit rubbing, for God’ sake!
How braindead he’d turn you, if he fucked you with his cock?!
Your breath was ragged, colors and light slowly registering in your blurry vision as you re-opened your eyes. You were trembling, walls of your cunt fluttering around a single finger still locked inside. Your arms felt heavy and you loosened your grip on Ari’s shirt to lazily drape them around his shoulders.
Ari let go of your chin. His hand slipped into your hair, grabbing a fistful quite gently and holding your head in place as he kissed you.
Softly at first, treating your lips with tenderness matching the afterglow consuming your lax body. Then he amped the urgency, demanding you to give in to whatever he wanted.
As he licked over your bottom lip and slipped his tongue in your mouth, a second finger stretched your still pulsing cunt, making you keen into the kiss.
Ari moved his fingers this time. Increased his pace, despite your futile attempts to slow him down with the motion of your hips.
When his thumb pressed against your over-sensitive, engorged clit, you nearly wailed.
“Can’t-” you panted against Ari’s mouth. “Too much- Too-”
“Shush.” He bit your lower lip and began tracing rapid eights with his thumb. “Don’t. Fucking. Think. Just feel.”
Well, you felt like it hurt, but at the same time wasn’t enough. You felt like screaming, but at the same time breathless. You felt overwhelmed, but at the same time light.
You felt like you had no grip on reality. No coherent thoughts formed in your head, only scraps of your own sounds resonating in your ears. And the sound of Ari’s voice.
“That’s it, kitten.” He praised. “No overthinking, no stress. Just a good pet for her Master to use.”
The hand in your hair eased its grip on your locks and moved down your back. Ari wrapped an arm around you and tightened his hold, trapping you to his body as he pushed a third finger in and curled them in your pussy, scraping them against a sensitive spot inside.
He knew what he was doing, choosing to hold you in place, because the moment your cunt felt the burning stretch and his fingers pounded on that spot, your body tensed like a string.
You screamed this time, burying your face (and your sounds) in the crook of Ari’s neck as a crushing orgasm seemed to break and melt each bone in your body.
You bucked against him, though his hold was so strong you were unable to move much. Wave after wave of bliss rocked your body and Ari’s continuous thrusting seemed to prolong it even more.
Tiny tremors shook your body as you melted into Ari’s huge frame. When you were conscious and facing him, his size intimidated you. Now you found comfort in it.
Your face was still hidden in his shoulder, your head filled with nothing but buzzing and echo of your increased heart rate, as Ari’s quiet voice resounded through the haze in your empty head.
Something about bringing a box in.
He had to be talking to someone, but you didn’t register anyone entering the room. Then you felt his hand resting on your back again, which meant he took it away for a moment, but you were so out of it you didn’t even notice. It meant he probably used his phone.
A few minutes later you heard the polite, but loud knocking on the door. Ari allowed the person to enter and you tensed.
You were straddling his lap, your thighs spread and your body all sorts of wrecked. And Ari’s fingers were still deep in your dripping pussy. Quite possibly visible to whoever entered the room.
“Shh,” Ari murmured and patted the back of your head. “Don’t worry. You’re safe.”
You seriously doubted it, considering what kind of power you basically gave Mr Levinson on a silver plate just a few minutes ago.
But at least, it seemed he wouldn’t stretch it to someone else, or cause you any truly degrading humiliation. Well, not any more than he already has.
Besides, even if you wanted to shoot up in an outburst of outrage, your muscles were turned into jelly and the inner fire too dimmed from an intense orgasm-fest you were just given.
With an embarrassed squeak you buried your face deeper into the crook of Ari’s neck, to hide yourself from the stranger inside the room. Whoever it was didn’t say a word and less than a few heartbeats later you heard the door closing again.
Everything, beside the sensual music still spilling from the speakers, was quiet. Your breath slowly evened out.
Ari caressed your hair and back in lazy strokes, humming in pleasure as if he was petting a real kitty. You were a little offended at this sort of degradation, but it also felt so nice and comforting you didn’t exactly want it to end.
With a squelching sound, which made you shut your eyes in shame, Ari withdrew his fingers from your cunt. He left a wet print on your ass as he palmed it.
“Come on up, kitten.” He nudged you to sit upright.
The angle of your hips repositioning made your pulsing core press against his hardened dick. He managed not to groan, but you saw the spark in his eyes and the twitch in his jaw that spoke of the pleasurable tension he felt.
“Now, tell me-” he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and traced the shell of it with his finger- “Did you like it?”
Your gaze shifted from his face, from his incredibly piercing blue eyes. It dropped to his shoulder again, where you wanted to hide your face and pretend your body didn’t dance to the tune he played.
“Eyes on me.” Ari tapped your cheek with his fingers. “Did you like what I did to your sweet, hot pussy? Did you like being scared of what I may do?”
When you huffed and nodded, he tapped your cheek again. A little harder.
“Use your words, kitten. I want to hear it.”
“I liked it.” You gritted through your teeth, annoyed that he made you say it as much as getting hot all over by admitting it.
“Are you going to deny that you want me to do it again?” Ari smirked smugly.
“Are you going to deny that you want to be my good pet and get spoiled and have your brain fucked out?” His dark chuckle tickled your skin as Ari nosed along your jaw and neck.
“Mr Levinson…” Your voice wavered, as you tried to return to a more professional stance.
It was ridiculous, really. Trying to be professional and put some distance between the two of you while dripping all over his pants like a needy slut.
“Ari.” He kissed the corner of your mouth.
“It was hot to hear you call me Mr Levinson in your sweet voice.” He pulled away slightly and smiled. Not exactly a comforting smile, either. Rather one that meant trouble. “But I prefer you call my name. Especially when you scream it.”
“Or Master, since you’re my pretty pet.”
You didn’t think he was joking about the last part.
Ari leaned back in his seat, but kept you sat up straight in his lap, his hands tracing the lines of your body. He wasn’t groping, simply exploring and connecting.
“I’m serious, though.” His tone turned nearly business-like, but was less cold than you expected it to be when Ari laid down his law.
“I consider you mine. In every sense of the word. I knew you were going to be mine the moment I saw you writhe against the silks. So sensual. So unique. So fucking beautiful.”
“And then your eyes.” Ari’s own eyes glinted with awe as he held your gaze. “Unfocused. You were so far away with your thoughts. Not even thinking about a lover as you were dancing, were you? I desired nothing more, but to have your attention on me. I wanted you to focus on me so much that you stop thinking about anything else.”
His words stirred something hot and intriguing in you. A sort of thrill. No one has ever craved your attention. Hell, no one ever paid enough attention to you to notice when you were drifting away with your thoughts.
Then there was the word mine.
So possessive. Scary in itself.
The fact it was a claim of a mafia king should be terrifying. Should make you pack your things and run far, far away. It shouldn’t turn you on.
And you probably shouldn’t be craving more of it.
With men like him, they liked the challenge and the chase. Once that was sated they moved onto the new fascinating thing.
You licked your lips, sliding your hands from Ari’s shoulders and placing them on your own thighs.
“Are you done now?” You asked, tilting your head in a manner mimicking Ari’s. “You got all my focus, turned off my brain. Mission accomplished.”
“If I were done, I wouldn’t be demanding that you admit that you want me.” Now his tone did turn deeper, lower, a hint of a threat if you tried to escape him.
“I’m not done with you.”
You swallowed hard, suddenly fearing what more he could rip from you.
Ari reached his arm to the side, snatching up a box that laid next to him. You forgot about the mystery box completely.
It was rectangular and flat, with a velvet finish. When Ari opened it, your breath hitched in your lungs and a mixture of dread and excitement shot through you.
On a silky lining laid a choker made of a dozen delicate chains of white gold. It had a small, diamond encrusted golden ring in the middle, from which dropped two long, fine chains.
Not a choker. A collar, you realized.
A collar for a pretty pet. Expensive, subtle, easily camouflaged as jewelry - but a collar nonetheless.
“Um, shouldn’t this type of commitment happen much later?” Your heart pounded in your chest, your eyes glued to the shiny fate displayed in a jewelry box. “I never played like that, but don’t, uh, Masters give collars to their slaves- or pets later in the relationship?”
“Why should I wait when I already know that I’m keeping you forever?” Ari lifted the collar from the box and put it around your neck.
Your hand shot up, fingers wrapping around one of his wrists. He paused, but didn’t move away. Didn’t slap your hand away either. But he held your gaze. His blue eyes darkening, determination shining in his eyes unrelenting.
“What if I say no?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.
Ari didn’t move an inch. His face remained as stoic as seconds before. Something in his eyes seemed to soften for you. And here you were expecting a flash of anger at meeting any resistance.
“Then you say no.” He replied simply and his mouth quirked into a cheeky half-grin.
“And then I take other ways to convince you to say yes. I can do sweet romance. I can lavish you with surprises and gifts. I can buy out this whole club and have Hansen dance on a pole for you. If that’s what it takes for you to give in.”
“But-” he slowly licked his lips and looked at you from beneath his long eyelashes- “I think you want to say yes, so I can keep you on the edge of that thrill. You like to be scared and used. And that’s why you’re going to let me stake that claim right now.”
Your chest rose and fell with quickened breaths, but after a long moment you dropped your hand in defeat.
It was partially surrender, knowing Ari Levinson could trap you in even without your consent. However, he was mostly right. There was a part of you that was intrigued to follow into that darkness he lured you into; to see and experience the thrilling surprises and wicked pleasures he would design for you.
“Good girl.” Ari hummed in approval.
He locked the collar around your neck and gently ran a finger beneath it. Then he traced his hand down along the two long chains hanging from the diamond circle.
“These-” he took each chain in each of his hands- “can simply be locked around you, serving as a sort of necklace.”
And he showed you, doing exactly that - letting them fall between your breasts and then tying them around your waist, snapping two ends together.
“Or-” Ari’s fingers trailed along your forearms, until he reached your wrists and wrapped a hand around each. “They can be attached to cuffs.”
As hot as the idea was, you didn’t find it practical. The golden chains were so delicate that if you trashed in orgasm, or just generally writhed as Ari tormented you, they’d snap instantly.
Unless they were used only for presentation. As a mark of Ari’s ownership over you.
The idea of walking somewhere public, like just strolling into your classes, or a restaurant, wearing this collar and maybe even the cuffs which would look like bracelets to a clueless eye… it mortified you.
And accelerated your pulse in arousal.
“Wear it next time you dance for me.” Ari ran his fingers along the thin chains of the collar, then along your collarbones until he reached lacy straps of your top.
He pulled one of the straps down your shoulder. Then the other one. Then moved his fingers over the swell of your breasts and upward, along the line of two thin chains leading to a diamond encrusted ring in your collar.
“You’ll wear nothing but this when I split your tight pussy on my cock.” His tone was a molten, dark delight.
His face glowed with triumph when you whimpered at the image of being completely naked sans the ownership jewelry, sweaty and helpless as Ari fucked you into the mattress.
“With time, we’ll get you used to wearing it all the time.”
He clamped his fingers around the front of your neck. He didn’t actually put any pressure. Just the presence of his hand wrapped around your throat the same way a collar did. It made you realize instantly, that’s how it would feel to wear the collar.
It would be a constant reminder that you belonged to Ari.
“For now, just wear it for me when we meet.” You were actually grateful for the small steps, but remembering Ari’s earlier words you knew he’d have it his way in the end - even if he had to take things slowly with you.
“Okay.” You nodded, fidgeting with one of the chains around your waist. You felt hot all over. And kind of suffocated. “I can do that.”
The smile Ari flashed you in return almost made you instantly want to ask how else can you please him. It made all the hardness disappear from his face, crinkles appeared around his eyes and it felt like warmth filled your belly.
“I knew you’d be good for me, kitten.” Ari kissed you softly.
You started to really eagerly lean into the kiss when he broke it. He stood up, easily holding you up as he moved, then eased you down on your feet.
Fuck, but he really towered over you. Like a beast.
“I’ll drive you home.” Ari announced as he led you toward the door, hand on the small of your back. “When you come to the club on Friday, bring a bag with some overnight necessities. I have a meeting here, but then I’m taking you home for the weekend.”
“A whole weekend?” You nearly froze on the spot.
For some reason, a silly thought really, you imagined your interactions to be limited to your performances in the club only. Sure, you’d maybe wear his collar outside sometime, as a reminder to yourself that three nights a week you were bending to Ari Levinson’s whims.
He really scrambled some of your brain cells since you didn’t consider he was putting himself in your life fully. And pulling you into his life. Possibly, into a very intense life…
“Wha-” You cleared your throat, trying to sound less shaken. “Whatever for?”
“Hmm.” Ari leaned down, his hot breath fanning your ear as he purred: “To do scary things to you, the thought of which will keep you tense and wet for me.”
#ari levinson x reader#ari levinson x female reader#mafia!ari levinson#mob boss Ari levinson#Ari levinson x you#Ari levinson smut#chris evans smut#ari levinson fic#ari levinson imagine#my writing#sweet thrill
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Strip Me to My Bones
Slowburn!Tommy x autistic!fem!reader Prologue: An Odd Woman
Summary: Tommy meets you in 1919, the beginning that feels like an ending in hindsight. Among betting men there is a vibrant culture of superstition and mysticism. It was in this industry you found your trade as a “psychic,” and met a man with a Red Right Hand.
Warnings: Period-typical sexism, contextual use of g-slur, Canon-typical violence, author is autistic, spoilers for series one possibly, slow burn, Tommy is shallow and confused at first. WC: 1.6k
1919 was an odd year for Mr. Shelby. His eyes were still bright, the boy who died in the tunnels still clung to his ankles as he stalked the roads of Birmingham. In those days, Tommy was still starving for money. For any sort of gain in power. He still slept on an old mattress with his drug of choice within reach. He still delivered his horses to mystics and magicians to psych out the competitors of the next day’s race. It was this Thomas Shelby who brought himself to the door of your flat. You, the newest little medium in Small Heath.
He had heard many things about you. How you seemed to just “know,” things. You weren’t gypsy, but there were whispers that you could see inside hearts and minds like no other. For a reasonable fee, you would read a person like a book tell them the next chapter of their life without hesitation. He was not normally the sort to seek your kind out. Thomas Shelby could see ahead just fine without the guide of psychic, genuine or charlatan in nature. Until, of course, a crate of guns came into his possession and an Irish woman sang to him from atop a table. Even the devil needs direction, sometimes.
That morning, the devil had sought you out.
Your flat looked the same as any other. There were green vines and a purple curtain blocking his view inside your window. Plain bricks on the outside. Gutter hanging off slightly from your roof. Thinking it best to just get it all over with, he knocked. You answered. And he froze.
When he first saw you, there was nothing extraordinary about you. You didn't wear a silk turban or line your eyes with black to convince your customers of some supernatural gift. You were just a young woman dressed comfortably in her little flat. A long, thick robe suited for the winter chill was tied around your body and sensible slippers on your feet. Nothing overly frilly or fanciful. Tommy would almost call your presentation "dowdy." However, what had made him freeze were your eyes. He knows the power of his own stare. Your stare was something truly unique. It was something he couldn’t quite put into words. The color of your eyes was not exceptional, nor the size of your eyes or their shape. There was a force behind the stare that had him fixed to the spot. The sound of your voice was all that put him back into the world.
“Can I help you?” your tone is flat, but he can’t decide of its intentional.
Tommy takes a glance from the corner of his eye to ensure there are no onlookers. The roads are empty. He looks into your eyes once more and says, “You see the future, I hear.”
“I see people, for a price. Not the future. Nobody can do that. It’s rather early, so I hope you’ve got money in that big coat,” you step aside to let him inside. He almost hesitates. Second thoughts are not something Tommy likes to entertain. To falter, to ruminate, is to dance at the edge of cowardice. Tommy pushes onward and crosses the threshold of your home. Thus begins the start of a most unusual affair.
The lighting was dim in your little flat, and on the walls were dozens of shadowboxes were every assortment of insect on display. In fact, nearly everything in your home appeared to be some sort of collection. Orderly in their presentation but crowded due to lack of space. All the furniture looked inherited rather than new, but that was typical. There was the scent of lavender and cedar in the air. As he passed by two sticks of incense burning on the mantle of your fireplace, he found the origin of the fragrance.
‘No trace of any other resident in the home. No husband. How modern’, he thought. As he made his observations, Tommy was painfully aware of your eyes on his back. You guided him silently to a small room with two sofas facing each other. He sat opposite to you, not bothering to remove his cap. As you sit across from him, your eyes are everywhere but him. Roving about the room as you tap your thumb to the tip of each finger on your hand. By the way you were sitting, someone just entering the room might assume you were a guest by how stiff your posture was. Back completely straight, both feet firmly planted on the floor. This was your home, your time, and Tommy looked more at ease sitting on your own furniture.
“I normally have tea prepared, but you don’t drink tea anyway, so I won’t bother with the kettle this time,” you say as your bottom hits the sofa cushion. He hears you. He hears you make a correct assumption about him, but he does not show his acknowledgement.
Tommy threads his fingers together on his lap, “They say you can see inside of people, tell them things about them that even they don’t know.”
Blinking owlishly at him you reply, “My, that’s a lovely review of my services! Should put that on a sign outside my doorway. Though I would rather know why you came to see me, Mr. Shelby. You are Mr. Shelby yes?”
“That I am,” he nearly laughs, “and I am not entirely sure why I came to see you either.”
Your eyes snap onto his own and again he feels caught off guard by it. Slowly, you lean forward, “It’s not like you to need help. You avoid seeking it. Something has happened to you that has never happened before, you do not know how to carry on because you cannot fall back on learned tactics to navigate the storm.”
He says nothing. Tommy finds you don’t require his input to carry on speaking as you tilt your head and continue. As you speak, you never break eye contact. Your gaze is one that leaves him feeling stripped to the bone. Flesh peeled back and pinned so that you may inspect him further with an objective, curious eye, "One of the walking wounded, soldier come home from war. You don't sleep well. None of you do. But, you hide it better than most."
"Quite the assumption," he deadpanned.
You carry on as if not hearing him, “A Catholic without Christ. Guilty but without remorse. You only follow yourself and yet you have lost faith within. So, you act out of your own character to try to find a solution to a problem you’ve made yourself. A problem with solutions you can't commit to.”
Tommy’s heart is beating faster in his chest. The plain-faced woman who greeted him at the door has been replaced. Your face seems to change, the sir around you shifting. There is a thrill in being seen. A thrill, but also annoyance. “And what would you do to solve such a problem?”
“It wouldn’t help you to know what anyone else would do. Even if my way was best, you wouldn’t obey it. Obedience is not something you do willingly,” there’s a smile in your eyes that makes his hands tighten around each other. “Is your greatest problem above, below, or beside you?”
His face remains stoic as he mulls over your odd question. He thinks of those beneath him, the factory workers who riot and cause him distraction. Beside him, his brothers in arms and brothers by blood. Ada. Freddie…. Grace. And then he thinks of Campbell and Kimber. “Above me, always.”
You nod, “There was no need for you to come see me. You know the answer to the question before you asked it. The greatest woe for you is that there are matters of the heart keeping you from stabbing upwards to the enemies who stand over you. You aren’t used to having that sort of obstacle... You need to decide what you want more and act accordingly. To have both things will end poorly, but I can't stop you. Nobody can but you.”
For a moment, he feels a sense of relief. It had been many years since the words of a stranger had done that to him. This feeling was overtaken by an immediate realization. He had come to you under the assumption that you were gifted by second-sight. Yet… You had no cards, no crystals, did not say a prayer or even a hymn in a nonsense language.
“You’re no medium,” he states it as fact. Not as a question or accusation. Though, he watches to see how you take it. Tommy likes to see how people respond to being caught, he finds it to be the most revealing time for most. For the third or fourth time since he laid eyes on you, you defied expectation.
With a slow shrug you say, “I’ve never made the claim that I was one. Everyone started saying so one day and I decided not to correct them. I just read people.”
‘What an odd woman,’ Tommy leaned back in his seat. Face still as stone. As he looked at you, your posture returned to that stiff, nearly-too-straight, position from before. He could see why the average man would see you as something beyond the natural. Ordinary to otherworldly. An odd woman indeed. You stand from your couch with a small, crooked smile, “That’ll be ten quid, Mr. Shelby, a discount for a first-time reading. It'll be thirteen for the next time.”
He pushed the money into your hands and said, "Won't be a next time." You gave him no audible response as you walked him to your door and released him from the dreamworld your home had trapped him in. Tommy did not look back as he walked three paces from your door and lit a cigarette. No one had seen him and he had a feeling you wouldn't share his visit with others.
Tommy pushed you from his mind to focus on what may come next.
The rest of the day moved quickly and slowly all at once after he left your little flat. He swore to himself that he would never go back. Swore that he hated every instant spent in your dark home that smelled of lavender and cedar. Swore that he despised the way you peeled back his skin with that glare so sharp. No, he couldn't feel them on him. Not at all.
#peaky blinders#peaky blinders x reader#thomas shelby#peaky blinders imagine#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby#thomas shelby x you#Thomas Shelby x autistic!reader#autistic!reader
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merry christmas, cariño
or joelsflannel presents: a frankie morales christmas
masterlist
pairing: frankie morales x wife!reader rating: absolute tooth-rotting fluff warnings/tags: husband!frankie, dad!frankie, frankie is a girl dad and I stand by that, very fluffy, morales family christmas, kaleigh uses lots of words to say not that many things, blink and you'll miss it barely a reference to TF canon events, not one but TWO sets of big, brown, baby cow eyes, no mentions of religion or anything outside of presents and santa. reader has no specified appearance, pictures are included for aesthetic purposes only. word count: 351 (she's just a baby, your honor) summary: mom and dad get woken up for presents ofc.
A/N: merry pedromas @frenchiereading!! surprise, I'm your pedrostories secret santa and I hope you enjoy your moodboard as much as I enjoyed making it. I couldn't help myself at the thought of christmas girl dad!frankie so I had to write a little blurb. It's a little cheesy but hey, 'tis the season ❤️🎄
dividers by the amazing @saradika
Peaceful. The morning starts out peaceful, the comforting weight of Frankie’s arm holding you impossibly close as the light begins to shine through the curtains. The soft sounds of snores and a smell so warm, inviting, and uniquely Frankie fills your senses and provide a soothing soundtrack for the start of the day. Turning in his grip, you can’t help but admire the sleeping face of your husband. Tracing a gentle finger over the scruff of his jaw with an almost reverent gaze. The way his mouth parts slightly and the ever-present worry lines between his eyebrows fade with the warm embrace of sleep. The peace doesn’t last long, replaced by the sound of small feet pattering down the hall and sweet giggles growing closer before the door swings open.
“Mama! Daddy! He came, he came!” The excitement in your daughter’s voice is enough to stir Frankie’s sleeping form, his arms tightening around you one last time before sitting up. His sleepy eyes sparkle in a way that melts your heart into a puddle. The perfect father, the way he grabs hold of his little girl and litters her small face with kisses, matching brown eyes caught in a battle of who can out puppy dog eye who. After a few minutes of laughter and your daughter deciding that you make a great tickle target (read: your daughter begging to go downstairs to unwrap her presents from Santa), you finally make your way downstairs. Spoiler alert: her puppy dog eyes win every time.
It’s been a long year, one made exponentially better by the warmth brought by your little family. The little giggles, the sound of wrapping paper being torn open to reveal months of hard work met with bright eyes, the feeling of Frankie’s arms wrapping around you as the two of you curl up on the couch and watch your daughter play with her new toys. She’s completely entranced by them, only tearing her attention away to look up every now and then with a “Mama, Daddy, look!!” that warms your heart in a way that no fire could hold a candle to.
“Merry Christmas, Santa.” you turn your head to look up at Frankie, those strong arms tightening as your eyes meet his. He shakes his head with a laugh before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “Merry Christmas, cariño.”
#pedrostories#pedrostoriesgift23#frankie morales#frankie morales moodboard#dad!frankie#husband!frankie#morales family christmas card#christmas moodboard#triple frontier#frankie catfish morales#frankie morales is the loml thank you very much#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales fic#frankie morales fluff#frankie morales christmas#frankie morales x wife!reader
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Secret Admirer | Yoo Kihyun
Paring: Yoo Kihyun x Reader
Warnings: friends to lovers trope, fluff, slightly suggestive
Rating: G
Word Count: 12k
Summary: The countdown to Christmas has begun, a festive calendar ticking off 24 days of unexpected presents. With every passing day, Y/N finds herself sinking deeper into a whirlpool of intrigue and frustration, her curiosity piqued, constantly wondering who her secret admirer really is.
Masterlist
Tags: @doveslittlekpoparchive @choicethot @xosunny @heaviihamonii
“Can you believe this mystery gifter? Leaving flowers without a hint of a name!” she exclaimed, her voice saturated with both confusion and a curious mixture of emotions that Kihyun couldn’t quite decipher yet.
She twirled the delicately tied flower bouquet in her hands, her gaze lost in the colorful array of blossoms. The perplexity in her eyes reflected her bewilderment at the anonymous sender.
Her curious query was met with an unexpected response - Kihyun, grinning wide, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. The sudden change in his demeanor was so stark that she was taken aback. She was just about to chide him for what she saw as mockery when a hearty laugh slipped out from him. It echoed through the room, a contagious sound that inevitably brought a warm blush to her cheeks.
“You know who the sender is, don’t you, Kihyun?” she asked, unable to hide her eagerness to unlock the puzzle of the mystery admirer. The continued laughter from Kihyun only fueled her suspicion and growing curiosity. The more she sat there, soaking in his responses, the more she grew slightly infuriated. “Kihyun! This isn’t a laughing matter! This is my love life, possibly the love of my life, a chance at a not-so-lonely Christmas and possibly a kiss going into the New Year!”
His laughter, ringing clear and high, only seemed to amplify with her words as his wide-grinning eyes danced with merriment. He shifted his gaze to the stunning bouquet as if teasing her even more by deliberately not disclosing his knowledge.
“Kihyun!” she huffed, “Stop laughing! This might be serious – someone could want to spend Christmas with me! Or even celebrate New Year’s with, you know... a kiss!”
Her insistent tone cut through his laughter, leaving a warm smile lingering. Leaning back, he asked playfully, “Oh? And who might this mysterious prince be? I wonder...”
She glared at him, her eyes narrowing in annoyance yet laced with playful humor. “Evidently, the person is too shy to admit their feelings. But it’s the first day of December!” she exclaimed, frowning at the baffling anonymity yet holding a spark of excitement at her newfound secret admirer. “The first day of December is not the day to mess with my feelings. So, Kihyun, if you know who this rat is, you better cough it up now. I don’t think this is even funny.”
Kihyun only chuckled in response, his eyes glittering with mischief yet housing a comforting familiarity. While he maintained his relentless teasing, he couldn’t help but treasure their banter, the anticipation that something more significant awaited her, and the promising merry vibe that December shared with its first day.
“If I knew, I would tell you.” Kihyun finally spoke, his smile warm and genuine. “Believe me. It’s like something from one of those cheesy books you insist on reading whenever you come to watch us practice. It’s both cute and cringe at the same time.”
She scoffed at his remark with a playful roll of her eyes, “Hey, those books are masterpieces, and you should read one someday, Kihyun!” Their friendly, exciting chatter buzzed in the air like sparks of energy.
As the first rays of daylight pierced through the thin veil of curtain in her room, she awoke to the melody of chirping birds. Groaning slightly, she rolled out of the cozy cocoon of her bed. Her mornings were always the same, yet they held a unique form of solace - the therapeutic routine she followed religiously.
Sleep clouded her eyes, and she padded to the bathroom, refreshing herself as a new day beckoned her forth. Post her warm, invigorating shower, she spotted her reflection in the fogged-up mirror, wiping it down to reveal her refreshed face, a stark contrast to the grumpy morning persona that resisted the call of daybreak.
Next in her routine came dressing up, standing in front of her wardrobe, rummaging through her clothes until she found the perfect outfit that matched her mood that day. Once decided, she moved on to makeup, subtle and minimal, just right for her day at work.
Her aromatic cup of coffee, the magic elixir that solidified the day had indeed started, awaited her in the kitchen. She sipped it leisurely, enjoying the quiet moments before the rush of work swooped in. Her breakfast was a simple toast and jam, consumed as she scrolled through her phone, catching glimpses of news, laughing at memes, and responding to needy work emails.
Just when her routine had neared its end, and she was about to slip into her shoes for work, something caught her eye - a box placed neatly on her doorstep, interrupting her typical day with its sheer outlandish presence.
The box was decorated beautifully, emblazoned with intricate patterns and a silver ribbon, concealing the mystery akin to its predecessor. The sender’s anonymity remained the same – no note, just the enticing charm of an enigma. Her curiosity shot up, her day’s mundane schedule forgotten as she reached for her phone, dialing Kihyun’s number over the thrill boiling within her.
“Kihyun,” her voice shook with combined excitement and curiosity. “There’s another gift...”
His voice carried a merry ring, the laugh in his tone evidently audible even over the call as he responded, “Good morning to you too, Y/N! I’m fantastic. I’m busy as a bee with all the practice, just in case you were wondering. My schedule is looking crazy packed today, but I love answering the phone for my darling best friend, who I’m sure is on her way to another fantastic day of work.”
Deflecting her frantic state with a cheerful demeanor, he continued, “Anyways, back to your mystery, another gift, huh?” His tone was tinged with audible amusement, stirring her curiosity and anxiety further. “Did you open it to see?”
“Kihyun, I’m serious!” she voiced, the frustration seeping into her words. Yet, she couldn’t ignore the fluttering excitement in her heart. The teasing, the laughter, and the banter all felt so incredibly amusing and jarring at the same time, given the strange situation evolving.
“And I am seriously amused,” came Kihyun’s instant reply, his laughter echoing down the line, making it impossible for her to stay frustrated. Despite the situation, she found a playful smile tugging at her lips. Regardless of the mystery and the confusion, having Kihyun by her side, even if it was over a call, lessened the stress and amplified the fun. His palpable amusement and constant, reassuring presence kept her grounded while she navigated through this strange turn of events.
“Did you open it? I stopped practicing. You can’t make me wait in suspense about this gift. What does the box look like? Is it tacky? I bet it’s tacky. The flowers yesterday seemed a bit tacky, in my honest opinion. Flowers would not be my go-to if you’re trying to swoop a girl off her feet mysteriously and romantically. But then again, I haven’t had a relationship in years, so I can’t go and say what this guy is doing is stupid. I just enjoy throwing my opinion out.”
Giggling at his relentless comments, she retorted, “Alright, Mr. I-know-everything-about-romance, let’s see what this ‘tacky’ gift is.” Kihyun’s amusement was evident in the hoots of laughter that filled her ears as she cautiously untied the silver ribbon, the box’s mystery ready to unfurl.
“It’s not tacky,” she hummed half to herself, opening the box lid to reveal an assortment of delicate pastries. Each one was artfully crafted, a testament to its baker’s skill, and made her mouth water just by looking at it. She took a moment to appreciate the arrangement’s intricacy; the evident attention to detail made the gift feel intimate—like her secret admirer truly knew her penchant for sweet treats.
“Pastries,” she breathed, a grin spreading across her face. “Baked goods, Kihyun, my favorite!” She could almost see Kihyun’s raised eyebrows and hear his chuckle as he mulled over this new information.
“Pastries, huh?” His voice was contemplative, mixed with a teasing lilt. “Whoever this mystery person is, they certainly have a knack for gift-giving — I still maintain, though, it’s a tad bit cliché. But at least you get to enjoy breakfast, if anything.” His laughter was like a warm blanket around her, bringing comfort and amusement amidst the uncertainty and excitement of her strange situation.
“I can’t believe this mystery person got me my favorite pastries. I haven’t had these in years…” She uttered softly, looking at each pastry carefully.
“Well, I guess your secret admirer is doing their homework thoroughly,” Kihyun teased, his voice tender and full of amusement. “Enjoy them, Y/N, and remember to go to work. You can’t let your mystery person derail your routine completely.”
“Are you kicking me off the phone, Kihyun?” Even her feigned offense couldn’t hide the smile in her voice.
“Oh, absolutely,” he shot back with a chuckle. “Enjoy the rest of your morning, Y/N. We’ll continue this intriguing narrative later.”
She hung up with a final laugh and a promise to update him on any new developments. The rest of her day passed in anticipation of the next day’s mystery and the comfort of Kihyun’s constant, understanding presence.
When morning arrived again, a third gift was waiting on her doorstep — a handwritten letter. As she unfolded the delicate paper, her heart pounded in her chest, her fingers delicately tracing the words etched beautifully. The letter was penned with such fondness that she could feel the warmth radiating.
“Kihyun,” she began the call, her voice shaking with the thrill of the mystery. “The gift today... it’s a letter.”
“Indeed?” came Kihyun’s interested interruption; his voice held a new level of curiosity, and her heart fluttered, the mystery drawing them closer with its magnetic pull.
“A letter?” There was a pause on the line before Kihyun’s voice returned, “That’s... different. And you said it was handwritten?”
“Yes, it’s beautifully done,” she admitted, her gaze dropping back to the carefully scripted words. She could sense Kihyun’s excitement matching her own and found it comforting; it was an assembling puzzle with him guiding her through the pieces.
“Well, isn’t this all very cryptic,” he mused, the interest palpable in his voice. “Listen, we’re both off today. Do you want me to come over to see the note? We can unravel this mystery together.”
Without thinking twice, she responded positively, relieved to not face this enigma alone. They hung up, and she eagerly anticipated Kihyun’s arrival.
As Kihyun walked into her living room later that day, the curiosity in his eyes mirrored her own. It was a strange adventure, but having him in it made everything less daunting. Together, they read through the note, their curiosity piqued as they drew another day closer to unraveling the identity of her secret admirer.
She observed his face as he read the note for the first time, then a second, then finally a third. His face scrunched up in mocking disgust.
“I feel like this guy is reading the same books as you.” He finally spoke up, handing her the note. “This is more cringe than flowers, Y/N.”
“Oh, come on, Kihyun,” she protested, slightly miffed. “The note is sweet. It’s thoughtful. It’s... romantic.” She clutched the letter closer, defending her secret admirer despite the fact she herself had been initially wary.
“Romantic?” Kihyun’s laughter was booming, causing her to flinch a bit. “Y/N, this mystery guy is pretending to be a prince from a bargain romance novel, and you find it endearing?”
Despite Kihyun’s jest, a blush crept onto her cheeks. “Maybe I do,” she huffed defiantly, “Isn’t it exciting to have someone who goes out of their way to make you feel special?”
Kihyun was silent for a moment, considering. Then, he nodded slightly, his tone becoming severe, “I suppose you’re right. But remember, Y/N, you don’t need a mystery person to make you feel special; you’re already amazing as you are.”
As the day continued, they spent hours intertwining in playful banter and laughter, their bond strengthening with every teasing remark and shared jest. Kihyun would rhetorically ask from time to time, “Did your secret admirer teach you that?” making her roll her eyes but unable to keep her giggles from spilling out. His constant light-hearted comments on her secret admirer reinforced their comfort in each other’s company, fusing an already strong friendship with newfound threads of intrigue and camaraderie.
They lazily flipped through the channels of her television, their minds busied more with their ongoing chatter than the colorful flickers on the screen. From her cringe-worthy taste in music to her questionable decisions on her favorite TV characters, Kihyun took every chance to add another jab at her taste, which could also be the mystery person’s. The laughter that echoed in her living room seemed endless, their enjoying time hand-in-hand, filling the hours with pure joy.
A trip to the local café was made in the afternoon, a familiar setting that heightened their playful arguments. He stole sips from her coffee, claiming, “Just checking if your secret admirer had spiked it.” Somehow, the jests made the mystery even more thrilling, a private joke they shared, the punchline growing funnier with each repetition.
As the light faded, they sprawled lazily on the living room floor, a blanket of exhaustion gently descending from the day’s hilarity. Still, even as they shared a peaceful moment of quiet tiredness, Kihyun murmured, “Sure, your secret admirer hasn’t planned any midnight surprises?”
At her mock glare and the familiar blush coloring her face, Kihyun laughed again, the sound warming her heart. As his laughter settled and silence enveloped them, a comfortable hush started in their friendship - a rare moment of quiet excitement for another day of mystery and shared banter.
“Want to stay the night? Defend you from this man - or woman - who may have your address and could come and sneak up on you. I can defend you.” With a teasing waggle of his eyebrows, he offered, “You might need my skills to protect you from your overzealous secret admirer. Who knows what they’re capable of.”
Rolling her eyes, but with a smile tugging at her lips, she agreed, “Sure, Kihyun. Stay and protect me from evildoers.”
The evening had gradually slowed to a relaxed tempo, their enthusiastic chatter segueing into a more subdued and introspective discussion. They had decided to call it a day, Kihyun desperately trying to stifle his yawning into his shirt sleeve, a hint of remorse in his eyes at the prospect of ending their fun-filled day.
With the decision made, she offered him the guest room, ensuring he was comfortable with the arrangements. He had looked satisfied enough, thanking her with that charming charisma that was undeniably Kihyun. Her heart fluttered at the sight, the intimacy of their small domestic arrangement tugging at her heartstrings.
To her surprise, he hesitated at the threshold of her room before finally deciding to air his concern. “Is it...alright if I take the blanket from here?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at her bedroom. Expecting some dramatic reason, she merely found him sheepishly admitting that he preferred her quilt’s scent.
Amused but acquiescent, she simply shrugged and handed it to him. “Make yourself at home, Kihyun.” His gratitude was evident in his widening smile, a warmth blooming in her chest at the sight.
Minutes later, dawned in their sleepwear, they found themselves in her soft-lit living room, perchance to bid each other goodnight. She could see the hints of sleepiness in his eyes, mirroring her own fatigue. Amidst the faint sounds of a city preparing to sleep and the soft gossamer thread of moonlight filtering through the window, they shared a quiet, heartfelt goodnight.
Watching Kihyun retreat to the guest room, her heart filled with gratitude for their shared experience, the silhouettes of camaraderie and playful banter etched in her mind that night. As she closed her eyes, she couldn’t help but envy the following day, yearning for another day of delight and discovery with Kihyun.
The following day, she woke to the smell of breakfast cooking and the sounds of Kihyun humming off-key in her kitchen. He had one of her kitchen aprons on - a comically delicate floral pattern that looked absurd against his typical attire. She couldn’t tear her gaze away, chuckling at the sight.
“Good morning, Princess,” he greeted her without turning around from the stove. “Your knight has prepared you a feast.”
“Such chivalry,” she waltzed over, reaching for a coffee mug sitting on the counter beside him. “How could my secret admirer ever compete?”
As if on cue, there on her kitchen table, another gift was placed casually next to a vase of flowers she hadn’t noticed before. It was a small, wrapped box, a light shimmer from the morning sunshine reflected off the silver paper. She didn’t need to check the doorstep to know where it had come from.
“Kihyun!” she exclaimed, shocked yet excited for the mystery present, “You brought the package inside?”
He shrugged nonchalantly, flipping a pancake stylishly in her frying pan. “Oh, forgot about that. Found it this morning and thought you might want to open it with your breakfast. Defending you even from early morning mysterious gifts!” he added with a wink.
Laughing at his antics but intrigued by the unopened package, she moved towards the table, wondering and excited for the new day filling the room.
Biting her lip in anticipation, she gingerly picked up the wrapped package, glancing at Kihyun for just an ounce of seriousness. However, the playful smirk on his face revealed that Kihyun was enjoying this immensely, his face glowing with a cheeky delight that threatened to break her serious demeanor.
“Don’t look at me like that, Kihyun,” she chided lightly, trying to suppress her own grin. “This could be something important.”
He simply shrugged again, his dimples flashing as he met her scolding with a retort, “And I don’t doubt that. But remember, it’s also part of the fun.” The infectious excitement she found in his eyes was impossible to ignore.
Turning her attention back to the package, she studied it, her heart swelling with suspense and curiosity. The wrapping was elegant and understated, hinting at the same thoughtfulness she had come to associate with her secret admirer. The kind of gesture made her heart flutter even as she felt Kihyun’s teasing gaze upon her.
Rolling her eyes at Kihyun but with a quick, exciting heartbeat, she finally started unwrapping the package. Her fingers danced along the edge of the paper, breaking the seal and revealing it layer by layer. As she did so, Kihyun leaned in, his interest piqued despite his earlier jests. His playful comments about the admirer were momentarily forgotten, replaced by a shared curiosity about the mystery box’s contents.
The unwrapping was finally complete, revealing a smaller box as exquisite as the wrapping. She held it in her hands for a moment, exchanging an excited glance with Kihyun before she lifted the lid. Whatever light-hearted tease he had prepared died on his lips as they stared at what was inside.
“Would you look at that!” Kihyun broke the silence first, a laugh hiding behind his words. “Your secret admirer sure knows how to keep things interesting! Seems like the rest of the day will be just as mysterious as the start.”
“Shut up.” She huffed, trying to stifle the bubbling laughter threatening to betray her severe facade, her face flushing a deep red at Kihyun’s endless jests.
Ignoring his teasing chuckle, she carefully lifted the box’s contents, revealing a delicate silver pendant. The cool metal glinted in the morning light as she held it up, a sense of awe washing over her. It was a beautifully crafted piece, a star-shaped jewel embedded in it, shimmering with an ethereal glow.
“Wow,” she whispered, running her fingers along the intricate carvings of the pendant. The attention to detail was mesmerizing, the smooth metal whispering of dedicated craftsmanship and a profound sense of affection. She was spellbound, captivated by the gentle shimmer; a breath of awe escaped her lips.
“Huh, so your secret admirer has good taste,” Kihyun managed to say, trying to keep his voice steady but failing to hide the note of surprise in it. He moved closer to her, his eyes studying the pendant with a newfound seriousness. A silence descended upon them, interrupted only by the soft clinking of the pendant against the table.
Her gaze flickered to Kihyun briefly, seeing his typically playful eyes darken with curiosity. He was silent for a moment, and then, with a smirk curling his lips, he met her gaze. “Alright, as much as I joke about it, your admirer sure knows how to make an impression.”
She rolled her eyes playfully, yet the blush on her cheeks deepened. Despite his jokes, the sincerity of Kihyun’s words warmed her from within.
“How are you not jealous right now? Mr. “I haven’t had a relationship in years.”” Y/N jabbed, turning to him with a smirk.
Raising an eyebrow, Kihyun leaned backward, placing his hands behind his head. “Who said I’m not?” he drawled, the corner of his mouth tugging into a crooked smile. “However, watching your high school drama unfold is much more entertaining.”
Snickering at his retort, she couldn’t help but feel touched by his nonchalant attitude. Kihyun, despite his constant teasing and feigned indifference, was remarkably supportive and accommodating. She knew beneath his casual exterior he genuinely cared for her.
“You’re just mad nobody’s sending you mysterious gifts,” she teased, holding up the pendant for emphasis. A glint of amusement flashed in his eyes, and he shrugged, feigning a hurt expression. “Maybe I have my secret admirers, but they understand I choose pancakes over pendants any day.”
“God, you’re impossible, Kihyun.” She laughed, shaking her head at his casual dismissal.
His laughter joined hers, filling the room with a sense of lightness. “Just remember, Y/N,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners from his broad grin, “All the secret admirer drama aside, you’re amazing just as you are. You don’t need silver pendants to feel special.”
Touching the pendant gently, she felt a warmth spreading through her. Kihyun’s words may have been framed in jest, but their genuineness was undeniable. He knew her better than anyone else did - her strengths, insecurities, and quirks. And despite everything, he never failed to remind her of her worth.
Ending the exchange with a roll of her eyes and a fond smile, she tucked the pendant back into its box. Kihyun’s teasing may never end, but she most treasured his genuine sentiments. The rest of the morning was spent in enjoyable banter and delicious pancake breakfast, the pendant temporarily forgotten, but the confirmation of her friend’s unwavering support was a gift that kept her smiling throughout the day.
Day 5 dawned brighter than before, her heart fluttering with anticipation and excitement as she found yet another parcel at her doorstep. It was a bit heavier this time, and inside was a beautiful hardcover book - a collection of romantic poems. There was a soft sigh as she flipped through the pages, each adorned with thoughtful verses that warmed her heart and tugged at her romantic daydreams.
She held the book against her chest, a smile gracing her face. Something about the choice of gift felt incredibly intimate, like the secret admirer had heralded a silent understanding of her deepest desires and found a way to address them in such a beautiful manner. She kept it close, unwilling to share this newfound joy, even with Kihyun.
As she was settling on the couch with the book, her cell phone buzzed, and Kihyun’s name flashed on the screen. Lips curving into a smile, she picked up the call, “Miss me already, Kihyun?”
“More than you know,” came the playful response, and then his tone shifted, curious, “So... any more mystery boxes today?”
She hesitated, the book clutched tighter in her grasp. After a split second of indecision, she decided to stay silent about her gift. It wasn’t because she didn’t trust him, but she wanted to enshroud this gift in a veil of secrecy for a little longer, savor the feelings it stirred within her.
“No,” she lied, “no boxes today. Maybe my secret admirer has lost interest.”
“Well, that’s a bummer,” Kihyun responded, a trace of disappointment in his tone. She could almost see his pout on the other end, “I was hooked on that story.”
Both of them knew Kihyun was just playing along, but she didn’t miss the hint of genuine curiosity in his voice. After all, he also became a part of this mystery and was keen to see how it unfolded, just from the sidelines, not wanting to intrude on her growing romantic life.
Promising to keep him updated on the situation, she ended the call. She glanced at the unassuming book on her lap. She traced the engraved title with her fingertips, a part of her touched by the secret admirer’s gesture, another part amused by Kihyun’s growing interest. With that, she curled into the couch a little more and started immersing herself into the world of romantic verse, a secret smile on her face.
As day 6 broke, the early morning light peered through her bedroom window, gently rousing her from sleep. The echo of romantic verses still hummed in the back of her mind, her dreams having been colored by the poetic whispers of love from the book her secret admirer had gifted. As if in a trance, she pulled herself out of the cozy cocoon of her bed, a soft sense of anticipation fluttering in her heart.
Upon opening her front door, the cool morning air greeted her face, bringing the early morning smells of dew-kissed grass and brewing coffee from the café down the street. There it was again, nestled by the doorstep, another box from her secret admirer - a sight very much part of her morning routine now.
The box was a little bigger this time and heavier, too. Lifting it carefully, she shuffled back into her home, leaving behind the still-hushed world outside. She placed it on her dining table and observed it momentarily, her heart pounding against her ribs in anticipation. There was a scandalous thrill in not knowing, in the mystery that was set to
unravel.
Her fingers traced the smooth edges of the box before finally pulling open the ribbon that kept her suspense at bay. As the flap opened, she couldn’t help but gasp. Inside the box lay a stunning bouquet of flowers, their petals a blinding hue of bright yellows and sparkling whites. She recognized them as daffodils, their allure holding an ethereal charm that made her think they were hand-picked from some celestial garden.
An ankle-length mint green dress was carefully folded beneath the flowers, the fabric smooth and soft under her fingers as she pulled it out. The scent of fresh daffodils mixing with the new fabric smell made her feel like a damsel right out of the poems she’d been reading.
Emotions rose in her chest, and she could feel tears prickling her eyes. The gifts were more personal and thoughtful each passing day - as if the mystery person understood her without saying a word.
Her gaze drifted back to the box, a small card tucked at the side catching her attention. Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened it. “I hope these make your day brighter than it already is,” read the note.
Indeed, the daffodils, dress, and note made her day infinitely brighter, and not just because they were beautiful gifts. There was an intimate familiarity in these presents, a secret chord of connection that was subtly woven, linking her with her unknown admirer. The underlying sentiment in the gifts bore undeniable hints of tenderness and care. They clearly meant more than simply objects; they were whispers of understanding, silent acknowledgments of her kind of person and the things she cherished.
Holding the mint green dress against her body, she admired it carefully, its color a tranquil reminiscence of calm spring afternoons. On her, it would softly hug her frame, adding a feminine charm to her persona. It was stunning, oozing with earthy appeal and subtle elegance; it was incredibly her.
Unable to resist the rising need to share her excitement and the mixture of feelings churning, she picked up her phone and dialed Kihyun’s number. The phone barely rang twice before Kihyun’s warm voice filled her ears, “Already missing me, aren’t you?”
His playful banter brought a smile to her face, pushing back the rising tide of emotions she was drowning in a moment ago. “Hold your excitement, Kihyun,” she retorted, the grin on her face matching the cheerful one she could hear in his voice. “I got another present.”
The conversation steered into comfortable chatter for a moment, her heartbeats resonating with Kihyun’s teasing and chuckles that she could hear over the phone. After a few shared anecdotes and many lingering laughs, she decided to share the day’s startling discovery.
“I lied yesterday, Kihyun,” she confessed, clutching the dress closer as if needing its support for the confession. “I received an incredibly thoughtful gift from my secret admirer,” she spilled out, taking a moment to elaborate on the touching gift still melting her heart.
“What did you get, Y/N? You have to tell me right now.” his eagerness made her chuckle.
Silence was on the line, a poignant stillness quickly broken by Kihyun’s excited curiosity.
As she launched into the detailed description of the captivating dress and enchanting daffodils, she could feel Kihyun’s thrill surging across the line, their shared excitement painting another beautiful day for her - a day marked by Kihyun’s laughter, their shared secrets, and a hint of surreal romance. Kihyun might not be her secret admirer, but his charm was integral to her unfolding amour tale. And as she ended the call, a sigh, filled with content for the day.
On day 7 came an uncharacteristic pause in the line of gifts. To say she was surprised was an understatement; she had grown accustomed to starting her day with the ever-familiar rush of anticipation, a thrill that had defined her routine for the past week. As she curiously inspected her doorstep, she found it amiss of any surprises. The absence of a morning gift starkly contrasted the regular rhythm of her past mornings, leading her to an unexpected sense of disappointment, a sadness she couldn’t place.
However, she quickly brushed off the feeling, reminding herself that the mystery had added a delightful tang of suspense that she had grown fond of. Shrugging off her initial gloom, she busied herself preparing for her day out with Kihyun, a small ray of excitement piercing her disappointment.
Their day out was filled with their signature mirthful narratives, each shared moment binding them further. Kihyun’s vibrant spirit and relentless teasing were infectious, easing the morning’s bewilderment out of her system. The twinkle in his eyes and contagious laughter warmed her heart; their laughter bubbles brushed against their hushed conversations, weaving an unseen tapestry of irreplaceable moments.
As they strolled through the park towards their favorite drink stand, the sun beaming down and the world alive under the cool Christmas chill, Kihyun casually asked the question she had been expecting. “So, did you receive anything today?” His voice had a twinge of curiosity, but it was masked by an intentional casualness. “You never told me if so.”
Taken aback for a moment, she hesitated before answering. “No, not today,” she admitted, adding a chuckle. “My secret admirer decided to give me a day off.” Kihyun mostly hid his surprise with a nod, but she could see a hint of confusion flashed across his face.
As the day wore on, they found comfort in their shared laughter and tales, the missing piece of her morning fading to mere whispers. Amid their delightful indulgence, the day marked another chapter, not of mystery and gifts but of the solid friendship they nurtured, each shared glance, every teasing jab, weaving threads of moments that grew more precious with each passing hour. The day might not have started as she had thought, but in its own ways, it was a gift she was grateful for.
As the sun dipped to bid the day goodbye, Kihyun’s mischievous grin and comforting camaraderie lingered in her thoughts, creating a buffer to the emptiness that had nudged her morning. They ended the day with a cheerfully disputed game of foosball at their local gaming bar, where she beat him miserably, pride glittering in her eyes and a smug smirk gracing her lips.
As Kihyun battled through his dramatic heartbreak of defeat, they shared one more laughter for the day before parting ways, his reassuring handshake and teasing glimmer playing seamlessly into the end of a less-than-ordinary day.
Stepping towards her building, the familiar path gleaming under the moonlight, an air of expectancy wafted through her senses. She shook her head in an attempt to diffuse the growing anticipation, chiding at her own hope. Yet, as she approached her doorstep, she paused. A small, elegantly wrapped gift was nestled cozily at her doorstep as if waiting for her arrival.
A hushed gasp slipped from her lips, a wave of disbelief washing over her. Kneeling down beside it, her fingers delicately traced the outline of the gift, the rough texture of the wrap sending chills up her spine. Her day suddenly felt whole again, as if her morning’s lacuna had been filled, the clock of cryptic gifts resuming its course.
With a gentle tug, she opened the package, revealing a beautiful leather-bound journal. Emanating a warm, alluring scent typical of vintage books, the journal was unique, its soft ruggedness sparking an immediate intimacy in her heart. Engraved on its cover was a single word, “Dream,” an echo that resonated with her aspirations and many untold stories.
Her fingers lightly traced the embossed letters, warmth spreading across her fingertips. If the daffodils symbolized respect and the dress spoke volumes about the admirer’s understanding of her style, the blank journal was a testament to her love for words and the potential power of her dreams.
A hushed giggle equally mixed with surprise and delight broke the silent night as she clutched the journal closer. As the evening kept its quiet vigil, the surprising twist pierced through her earlier disappointment, wrapping the day with a perfect closure. The journal was more than a gift. It was the commencement of a new chapter, a silent invitation to pen her own truth, to weave a narrative only she could envision. The secret admirer saga was far from over, but one thing was clear. Every piece of the puzzle was clearly picked with the utmost consideration, each revealing more about the secret admirer’s deep understanding of her.
The intrigue was tantalizing as she picked the journal up, caressing its soft leather cover. She perused the pages to appreciate the craftsmanship and the untold stories this journal could hold. However, as she opened the crisp first page, she paused, her breath hitching in surprise.
There was a note elegantly scribed at the top of the page. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest. A spark of anticipation ignited as she chewed her lower lip and squinted at the precise handwriting. The words were written in a chic font, the curves and flavor of the handwriting revealing a unique character, an uncanny reflection of the mysterious person behind these well-thought gifts.
Her eyes scanned the words, silently mouthing them as she read, “To the keeper of dreams and the weaver of words, may this journal hold your untold stories, unspoken thoughts, and unending dreams. Coin a reality only you can envision; let your dreams manifest through the mystique of your words. Yours, your secret admirer.”
Her heart missed a beat, her eyes wide in disbelieving wonder. The words, so profound, so promising, entwined her in a profound moment of understanding. It was more than a mere gift. It was a mirror to her spirit, a hat tip to her penchant for scribbling her thoughts, dreams, and reality.
Vaguely, she was aware of her hands shaking, the journal slightly trembling. The note was an intimate message in a bottle sent across the sea to just her. It screamed understanding, resonance, and a deep sense of familiarity. The more she read it, the louder her heartbeat echoed in her ears, and the deeper she fell into the whirlpool of feelings and the enigma her admirer had put forth.
Hugging the journal close to her chest, she sat on her doorstep, the moonlight gently caressing her form, adding an ethereal glow to the affectionate picture she embodied. The gentle breeze ruffled her hair, seemingly celebrating her contentment and newfound connection with her secret admirer.
Lingering momentarily, she relished the tranquility that wrapped her in its warm hold. Each word of the note was a serenade to her, a quiet melody only she could hear, and it played ceaselessly, tickling her heartstrings, promising a symphony of narratives only she could chronicle.
Thus began a ritual like no other, a daily spectacle of surprise gifts arranged on her doorstep. Every morning was christened with the thrill of mystery, the pleasure of discovering something new and deeply personal. Her secret admirer’s knowledge of her likes and dislikes extended beyond mere happenstance, suggesting a close observer of her life. Each gift, be it a collection of her favorite abstract art, film memorabilia from her all-time classic movie, or a vintage vinyl of her favorite band, seemed meticulously picked, enveloping her in a blanket of obscure familiarity and secret admiration.
As she counted down the days till Christmas, the space under her tree increasingly began to mirror a treasure box. Each neatly wrapped gift, carefully opened, held a piece of her heart, enveloping her in waves of emotion she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Intriguingly, representative tokens of her passion for travel appeared: a world map with scratch-off destinations, foreign language books for her to decipher, and even a mini globe that lit up, each embedded in the roots of serendipity and future adventures.
The assortment was nothing short of an outburst of joy. This emotional whiplash triggered giggles and silent tears of happiness alike. It wasn’t just about receiving gifts; it was the idea that somebody cared enough to know her, to understand her, and to make her feel acknowledged and unique, which amplified the magic of the scenario.
Her moments with Kihyun were filled with shared laughter and teasing jokes about her secret admirer. With his constant banter, the playful guessing of who it could be, and the wagers they made on every gift, they built precious memories that Santa himself would’ve been proud of.
As the December chill crept in more and more, so did the longing to meet her secret admirer, the intrigue giving way to an acute urge of curiosity. Each passing day rendered her heart more restless, the countdown to Christmas carrying a weight of anticipation.
One chilly morning, just days before Christmas, she found a tiny box on her doorstep. On opening it, her breath hitched. Inside lay a delicate snowflake pendant – an echo of the season, a testament to the ephemeral and individual - as unique and irreplaceable as herself, a symbol and a promise, silently noting her significance, her uniqueness.
As Christmas neared, the excitement cushioned with silence, the answering smile on her face becoming a permanent fixture as her secret admirer remained veiled in alluring mystery.
Christmas Eve brought an unexpected twist to the tale, with Kihyun inviting her to a friendly gathering with his group mates. The night bloomed in a beautiful meld of laughter and goodwill, the air thick with stories, playful jests, and shared camaraderie. Kihyun, by her side, only heightened the cheer with his endearing laughter that bounced rhythmically off their childish banter about Santa. The soft glow of the Christmas lights dancing in his eyes etched another beautiful memory in her heart.
The festive allure carried onto the Christmas day, surrounded by familiar faces and warmed by familial love. She engaged in a homely celebration, the scent of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air, mingling with the nostalgic aroma of the pine tree. Preserved traditions, laughter-filled stories, and the shared mirth of togetherness engulfed her, the day promising a lifetime of nostalgia. Her family’s hearts buzzing with joy rendered a new glow to Christmas – all she had ever wanted, all she had ever loved.
As the day ended, she returned home, her heart full yet sluggish from the day’s joyous exhaustion. Drawing closer to her apartment building, she caught sight of a familiar figure perched on the steps. Kihyun, his eyes shining brighter than the nearby streetlamp, was waiting for her.
In his hands was a familiar small gift. The packaging was the same, the bow perfectly tied - but something felt different. His usual playful demeanor was replaced with earnest anticipation, the silence of the night punctuated only by the rushing thoughts filling her head.
The realization wrought a gasp from her, her breath hitching and her heartbeat sounding louder than the quiet of the night. Could it be? Could the secret admirer, the person distributing these coded pieces of her soul, have been Kihyun all along? Her mind raced as she approached him, the finality of her walk daunting against the
Christmas lights strung around her front door.
There, wrapped snugly in winter’s silence, Kihyun extended the gift towards her - his eyes searching her own, all jest gone - replaced with a raw vulnerability she found endearing. The hours that melted into another Christmas night were yet to unravel surprises of their own, the veil of the secret admirer lifting slowly under the Christmas moonlight.
In his hands was a familiar small gift. The packaging was the same, the bow perfectly tied - but something felt different. His usual playful demeanor was replaced with earnest anticipation, the silence of the night punctuated only by the rushing thoughts filling her head.
The realization wrought a gasp from her, her breath hitching and her heartbeat sounding louder than the quiet of the night. Could it be? Could the secret admirer, the person distributing these coded pieces of her soul, have been Kihyun all along? Her mind raced as she approached him, the finality of her walk daunting against the Christmas lights strung around her front door.
There, wrapped snugly in winter’s silence, Kihyun extended the gift towards her - his eyes searching her own, all jest gone - replaced with a raw vulnerability she found endearing. The hours that melted into another Christmas night were yet to unravel surprises of their own, the veil of the secret admirer lifting slowly under the Christmas moonlight.
Overwhelmed by curiosity and unexpected understanding, she took the gift from him, her fingers brushing lightly against his. The familiarity of it brought her an unusual wave of comfort and anticipation, a drum roll echoing in her chest as she unwrapped the gift.
As the wrapping gracefully unfolded under her careful hands, a thing of beauty was slowly but indeed revealed. Tucked snugly within was a beautifully crafted, handwritten letter. The elegant script, its curves and flourishes were familiar, the words an echo of previous ones she’d come to treasure - its profound intimacy only deepening with each thoughtful expression.
Below the letter remained more surprises, artifacts of a heartfelt saga silently written through her secret admirer’s thoughtful gifts - treasures as intimate and sincere as the words etched on the letter above.
A sigh escaped her lips as she carefully revealed a book she’d dreamt of owning, its elusive nature only fueling her desire. It was a rare edition she’d mentioned in passing to Kihyun amidst a lazy afternoon chat not so long ago. It was more than just a book; it was a testament to her dreams and aspirations, an encapsulation of a part of her life she held dear.
Alongside the book, nestled in a jeweled box, was an exquisite pendant she had always admired from afar. Its price had deterred her from purchasing it, but its beauty had constantly stirred a longing within her. Now, to see the same pendant lying before her, glittering in the soft glow of the Christmas lights, it was much more than just a piece of jewelry - it was the acknowledgment of her desires, the embodiment of dreams she’d whispered into the winds, now gently resting in her hands.
Kihyun watched, his eyes holding the reflections of the sparkling pendant and the joy in her eyes - a moment printed onto the canvas of a Christmas night. In that instance, under the garland of lights and warmth, the veil of the secret admirer finally melted away, the visage of Kihyun emerging through -- a friend, a confidante, a shared laughter, and now, her poignant admirer. A Christmas as magical as they come, the story of their shared past and a beautifully mysterious present was embraced that night – a testament to the Christmas spirit that genuinely lived in their hearts.
“It was you the whole time?” Her question echoed in the silence, a simple confirmation of the emotions swelling within her, the reality beginning to settle.
“Yes,” Kihyun replied, his voice a soft whisper that seemed to blend with the falling snow. His eyes held a shining sincerity, a deep emotion she had seldom seen. They simply gazed at each other for a moment, the confession hanging between them in the cool night air.
“But how? We were almost always together,” she breathed out, confusion furrowing her brows. Memories of all the shared moments replayed in her mind - the days bursting with laughter, the lingering glances, the constant companionship, and the masterfully orchestrated surprises.
A chuckle escaped Kihyun’s lips, momentarily disrupting the tranquil moment. “Ah, you see, quite clever actually... I had a little help.” His eyes twinkled in delight, a mischievous glint creeping back into them, making her heart flutter.
“Minhyuk and Jooheon were my partners in crime,” he admitted, a proud grin plastering his face. “They were the ones who delivered the gifts to your doorstep when we were together.”
The revelation sent a warm thrill coursing through her. The thought of their friends playing along, helping Kihyun warm her days with unexpected gifts, brought a smile to her lips. Including her beloved friends in this heartfelt expression added an even more intimate charm to the entire experience unfolding before her.
“I just... I wanted to find the most special gifts for you,” Kihyun continued, a sense of earnest passion coloring his tone. “It wasn’t easy; it took time, scanning multiple stores, browsing countless online sites, and it took me months to find the book you’ve been longing for and the pendant you always admired.”
His thoughtfulness and efforts in this grand gesture unveiled a meaningful dimension of Kihyun’s affection. Each detail – the elusive book, the beautiful pendant – was a token of the patience and dedication he had devoted to making her feel special in every possible way.
“And the letters?” she asked, her mind now wandering to the exquisite performance of pen on paper she’d come to adore.
“I spent hours practicing to write perfectly in cursive,” he confessed. An image flitted across her mind – Kihyun immersed in his diligent labor of love, a pen in his hands, a warm lamp illuminating his focused features.
“There were lots of wasted papers and tossed-out pens, but the expressions on your face whenever you’d receive them made it all worth it,” he finished. A soft, sheepish smile adorned his lips as he briefly looked away, a faint blush creeping up his neck - an endearing sight that heightened her respect and affection for her dear friend.
“And how did you keep such a good poker face every time I got excited about receiving a new gift?” she asked, still processing the extent of his efforts.
Kihyun rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze directed to the distance as he reminisced, “To say it was easy would be a lie. Sometimes, I just wanted to let it out, to show you how thrilled I was to see you happy. However, I knew I had to hold back. I had to keep the magic alive. I chose to feed off your delight, to live vicariously through your innocent excitement.”
Hearing him confess his struggles, the sheer effort of keeping such a significant secret amid their camaraderie was both heart-aching and heartwarming. Feeling closer to him than ever before, she found comfort in knowing that they could share such profound experiences, unbeknownst to even themselves, moving on an unseen thread of affection and understanding.
“I won’t deny that seeing you coming to me after every gift was an experience in itself,” Kihyun admitted earnestly, reaching out and gently brushing a stray curl away from her face. “It made me ecstatic to see your reactions, to listen to your thoughts... to know you were treasured even as I held back the admirer's identity.”
Her heart seemed to swell with each word. Each revelation added a new layer to this extraordinary tale, embellishing it with a unique blend of friendship, affection, and unspoken love. As a gentle snowfall started to blanket the world around them, the soft glow of the Christmas lights illuminating their faces, she felt a profound warmth radiating from Kihyun’s honest eyes, his enduringly patient love that had orchestrated such a magical mystery. This Christmas, as the story of their shared past came full circle with a festively mysterious present, their hearts resonated with the true spirit of this winter holiday – loving and cherishing each other and the shared tale that wove them intricately together.
In the moment's warmth, Kihyun’s gaze dipped from her eyes to her lips, a silent question lingering in his eyes. As if reading her thoughts, he asked softly, “May I?”
She looked at him, his sincerity shimmering like the snowflakes gently descending around them. A breath hitched in her throat as she gave a shy nod, her heart beating wildly as anticipation gripped her.
Acknowledging her response with a gentle smile, Kihyun closed the gap between them. His lips met hers in a sweet kiss that held all the unspoken emotions they shared – a profound affection subtly blending with newly discovered love. It was a gentle exploration, a testament to their deep bond and cherished companionship, conveyed through a language that words often fail to express.
When they parted, they shared a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the love that had finally found its voice. The night seemed peaceful, the silence only broken by the gentle rustling of the snow-laden branches and their faintly trembling breaths.
“Hold still...” Kihyun murmured, breaking the silence as he gently held the pendant she warmly regarded. The cool metal chain seemed to electrify her senses as she held her breath while he secured it around her neck. His fingers lightly brushed against her skin as he worked the delicate clasp, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.
The distinct shimmer of the beautifully chosen necklace lay against her slightly flushed skin, adorning her in a way she’d imagined countless times. As his fingertips traced away, lingering for a moment on her nape, a sense of satisfaction mirrored in his eyes.
“There,” Kihyun whispered, a soft smile gracing his lips as he admired his handiwork. The pendant hung delicately, catching the Christmas lights that softly fell on them. The sight seemed to ground their escapade into a sweet reality, a symbol of his affection now proudly displayed.
Her fingers instinctively grazed the pendant, a tangible culmination of Kihyun’s love and efforts. It was more than just an accessory; it was a signifier of an extraordinary love that was patiently built and skillfully veiled under the guise of friendship and a mystery admirer. As she looked into Kihyun’s eyes, the gentle glow reflecting their shared joy, she realized that their journey of love had just begun, beautifully clothed in the magical allure of a festively mysterious Christmas.
As the chilly wind began to pick up, she noticed the slight tremble in Kihyun’s hands, the shivering cold infringing upon their joyous moment. She swiftly reached for his arm, a warm smile gracing her face, “Let’s not turn you into a snowman. It’s warmer inside.”
Kihyun didn’t break any denial at her invitation, readily agreeing with a grateful grin that met his still-flushed cheeks.
Once they stepped over the threshold, the cold was replaced by a cocoon of warmth that enveloped them. The scent of their earlier supper and the distinct fragrance of pine from their decorated Christmas tree welcomed them, creating a nostalgic and homely ambiance that further solidified their irreplaceable connection.
Kihyun seemed attached to her side now, mirroring her movements like a compass aligned to the North. His presence was nearly constant, like a silent guardian angel, or more accurately, a lovable, lost puppy clinging to his newfound home. The tenderness in his following gaze was charmingly precious, making her heart flutter whenever she looked his way.
In return, she catered to his ease and made this night memorable. She initiated the brewing of hot cocoa, their earlier frosty encounter calling for something warm and soothing. Kihyun just watched her, his eyes following her every gesture, every move.
The evening continued in a breezy blur of shared laughter and subtle touches, the simple domesticity marked by their mutual companionship. With Kihyun’s nearness kindling a new kind of comfort, a kind of elation bubbled up within her, turning an ordinary night into a prepossessing memory.
Each jammed radio button, each shared blanket, and each nonchalant brush of their hands further delineated their newly forged connection. Kihyun followed her dutifully, his presence a sweet reminder of their relationship’s incredible turn.
As they eventually settled on the couch, their shoulders brushing against each other, their hands occasionally intertwining, she was thoroughly soaked with unfathomable contentment. Their heartfelt encounter outside was replaced by the humming silence of her warm living room, their companions’ soft twinkling Christmas lights, and the sweet flavor of cocoa lingering between them.
As she leaned her head against his shoulder, Kihyun wrapped an arm around her as an answer. She knew that this was the start of something truly special. Every corner of her house that was earlier adorned with festive décor now held a new significance as if those inanimate objects were quiet spectators of their blooming relationship. The easy silence blanketing them allowed room for reminiscence and reflection, their earlier adventure transmuting ordinary moments into precious memories.
In the comfortable embrace of the couch, as the aroma of hot cocoa and the familiar scent of pine permeated the air, they found contentment within their closeness. The outside world was momentarily forgotten - the frosty chill, the heavy snow, and even time seemed irrelevant in their shared cocoon of companionship. The brushing of their fingers, the slow rhythm of their combined breaths, and the silent beating of their hearts painted a vivid picture of a love story perfectly scripted in an ambiance of festive romance.
Her thoughts ran free, aimless yet strangely centered on the man whose arms encased her. The sense of contentment was almost tangible, filling her heart with a warmth that outshone the cheerful blaze crackling in her fireplace. She found herself unconsciously tracing patterns on the back of his hand with her free hand - circles, lines, forming shapes only they could interpret, each shape carving another subtle memory into their journey of love.
A sudden thought dashed through her mind, breaking her pattern tracing. “How about a warm bath?” she suggested, her voice soft as she lifted her head from the crook of his shoulder, her gaze meeting his. “It’s a good way to wash off the day’s chill.”
His agreement was immediate, a lazy smile spreading at the prospect. A shared bath sounded absurdly intimate but was past labels and societal conventions. This was their relationship, their love blooming in ways they had never anticipated.
Kihyun’s presence followed her into the bathroom, his silhouette reflecting in the mirror as she started filling the tub. The rush of warm water quickly masked in a thick veil of steam, enveloping them in a cozy warmth that seemed to hug their bodies. As she adjusted the bath temperature, the soft splatter of water against the ceramic tiles provided a comforting harmony, blissful in its own simple way.
The shared bath was a testament to their trust in each other - a trust born from the roots of friendship, nurtured by shared interests and laughter and blossomed into the love now silently thriving between them. Bathed in the soft glow of the dimmed lights, the bathwater turning into a cocoon of warmth, their bodies relaxed, drawing comfort from each other’s presence even as the initial tension of intimacy resided in their minds.
She turned to face Kihyun, her fingers gripping the hem of her shirt. His gaze, now less playful and carrying a certain intensity, traced the contours of her figure with admiration, an expression so candid it left her feeling slightly exposed, her cheeks heating up.
However, he seemed to sense her hesitation; his warm hands stilled hers, his eyes flicking to meet hers. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his statement laced with an emotion so profound it stirred something deep within her. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”
The depth of his gaze matched the sentiment of his words, serving as a compelling reassurance that washed away her lingering apprehension. Kihyun murmured more compliments, each word articulating his awe and adoration, painting her in shades of appreciation she hadn’t fully realized he had seen her in. She was not just any woman to him - she was infinitely precious, as unique and beautiful as their bond.
Their laughter and teasing banter often overshadowed such profundity in their relationship. Still, in these intimate moments, the strength of their connection was undeniable. Their relationship had blossomed in friendship, nurtured by shared memory, and the bond they had built was indeed love. This love distilled comfort, reliability, and now shared vulnerability into a remarkable blend.
As the last threads of hesitation unraveled, they engaged in the serene journey of shared intimacy - slowly, sensuously undressing, their eyes never straying from one another. Each piece of clothing shed marked a step further into their shared path of trust and intimacy, their hearts hammering a silent rhythm that echoed the depth of their connection. His fingers traced the slight dip of her collarbone, his touch light, almost reverential. Her hands moved to unbutton his shirt, her fingertips brushing against the warmth of his skin, escalating their intimate voyage.
With reassuring whispers of appreciation and shared glances filled with love, they continued their path, honoring the profound depth of their relationship. As they shed the last fragments of clothing and inhibitions, they stepped into their cocoon of warmth, the bathwater welcoming them into a boundaryless world borne of trust, love, and shared understanding. Their bodies intertwined in the steamy bath, her unfounded insecurities washed away by the soothing warmth and his genuinely heartfelt compliments, creating a moment that was gracefully pure and uniquely theirs.
The water embraced them gently, the warm bath scent creating a divine delirium that heightened the moment's intimacy. His hands were everywhere, tracing the silhouette of her body through the clear water, his fingertips creating ripples in the otherwise serene tranquility of the bath.
Kihyun’s hands cupped her face, tilting her chin upwards until her eyes met his. The affectionate look in his eyes mirrored his gentle touch, wrapping her in a cascade of warmth and safety. Her eyes fluttered closed, reveling in his thumb lightly stroking her cheek, the intimacy of the moment creating a memory she’d forever cherish.
Without prompting, his hand moved from her face, tracing a path through the water as he reached for her hair. A soft chuckle rippled from his lips as he secured her damp hair in a high ponytail, ensuring it wouldn’t get wet in the bath. Even amidst this moment of heightened intimacy, his considerate gesture grounded their interaction in a reality seasoned with familiar comfort, a testament to the depth of their connection.
They began conversing - about anything and everything, their voices echoing against the bathroom tiles, intertwining with the soft sound of the water. They spoke about mundane nothings, profound truths, fears and dreams, shared memories, and individual secrets. Their conversation flowed as naturally as the water around them, each word a testament to their bond, each laughter a reaffirmation of their shared joy, hidden whispers in a world of their own making.
Each glance exchanged spoke volumes more than words ever could, their connection seeping through the silence in the spaces between their conversation. Their bodies pressed close, the occasional brush of their hands, the whispering water around their still, entwined forms - it was no longer just a bath; it was an intimate dance between two souls learning to navigate the path of profound love.
With his hands around her, his gaze soft and appreciative, their connection seemed deeper, even more profound within the candlelight glow of the steamy bathroom. He chuckled, murmuring soft compliments that made her blush crimson under the blanket of warm bathwater. Their conversation, laughter, and intimate gestures etched into the silence of the night, this bath was the symbolism of trust, shared vulnerability, and a deepening love - their world within a world.
Time seemed to freeze as Kihyun’s gaze grew more intense, teetering on the precipice of a deeper intimacy. The playful banter still hung in the air, swallowed by the suspense-filled silence. His fingers lazily drew circles on her bare skin, tangible electricity crackling between their close bodies. With his eyes locked onto hers, he murmured, “Can I kiss you?”
His question hung heavy, solidifying their intimate vulnerability. A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine, the heat of the bathwater paling compared to the flame that his words ignited within her. His question, no, his request, was significant – an admission of the desire that had been subtly brewing between them, now finally voiced.
Emboldened, she nodded her approval, anticipating the sweet surrender of their connecting lips. Closing her eyes, she leaned in, but instead of meeting his lips, she found him whispering against her skin, intimate praises that made her heart race.
His lips finally found hers in a slow, intoxicating dance. This soft touch lingered and deepened, intensifying with each passing second. His hands shuffled up to cradle her face, her hands pulling him closer, wrapped around his neck. The kiss, she thought, was pure magic - an ethereal blend of raw passion and tender affection that seemed to set their world on fire.
Their movements grew more assertive, their bodies weaving into each other under the blanket of bathwater. Every touch ignited sparks that blazed under their skin and electrified their senses. Their tangled limbs reflected in the steamy water, the intimate tableau a blend of roiling heat and escalating desire. His grip on her waist tightened, pulling her closer. Kihyun’s hand slipped down to her hip, his thumb tracing circles that caused her to tremble.
Blind to everything but each other, they continued their intoxicating dance. Hands roamed, leaving trails of heat in their wake; words whispered amidst shared breaths wrapped them in an intimate cocoon. The dance of intertwining tongues and roaming hands built-in tempo, creating an intoxicating symphony.
They explored, discovered, lost and found themselves again in the steam-filled bathroom, thrumming with unspoken words and promises. Their gasps for breath and low murmurs filled the silence, a profound love story weaved in hushed whispers and fervent touches.
In the glow of warm candlelight, their reflected silhouettes painted an intimate portrait on the steamy bathroom tiles. Their interlude seemed to transcend the confines of the steam-perfumed room, a realm of whispered intimacy. It accentuated sensations between their closely entwined bodies. The veil of steam provided a fairy-tale haze to their naked emotions, bared in the all-consuming passion that was engulfing them.
With Kihyun’s fingers still dancing along her hip bone, forming words and phrases she could only guess, he pressed gentle kisses to her jawline, earning himself a hushed sigh. His exploration was slow yet purposeful, and she couldn’t help closing her eyes, focusing purely on the sensation of his skin on hers, touched by the warmth of his eager exploration. The magical dance they were engaged in was no longer bound by words but voiced through the nervous thumping of hearts, the soft gasps of contentment serving as a melodious accompaniment to their symphony.
“Kihyun...” Her voice was barely a whisper, pulling him away from his trail of kisses along her jaw, the soulful look in his eyes interweaving with her silent plea. He heard the unspoken desire mirrored in her voice, a spark igniting the depths of his own longing.
Eyes burning bright, edged with a glint of playfulness and cloaked in desire, he asked, “Are you sure?” His voice was raspy, laced with concern and a hint of desire that had her heart fluttering.
“Yes, yes I am,” she managed through bated breath, entrusting him with a level of vulnerability that felt surprisingly liberating. With one last lingering look for confirmation, he took her lips into a sweet kiss, a reassurance and a promise bundled into the intimate connection. His response was a breathless whisper, “I want this too, more than you know.”
With the exchange of those stolen words, the previous rhythm of their dance transformed into a sensual ballet, the steamy water around them serving as the stage for this divine performance, fingertips tracing coy patterns on surfaces that had her arching into him.
Kihyun’s hands roamed down to claim her hips, pulling her closer, skin on the skin where water meets air. Her fingers gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, their bodies moving in unison with the pulsating rhythm of their shared heartbeat. Every breath, every sigh, every shared laugh was a token of their desire, etched into the steamy air of the bathroom that held this moment captive.
The echo of their shared intimacy lingered still. Nodding, she wrapped her arms around Kihyun’s neck for support. The heated pace slowed as they synchronized their rhythm again, each silent understanding reflected in the other’s gaze.
Kihyun’s hands on her hips became her anchor, grounding her as they continued their slow exploration, his touch coaxing her to lose herself in their shared bliss. The feeling was more than just tactile. Her senses were heightened and everything else dimmed, leaving only his touch, his scent, and his breath on her skin. Her fingers traced along his jawline, feeling the grit of stubble and the warmth beneath that demanded her attention.
Unspoken affirmations passed between them through lingering touches and steady gazes. As they shared hushed whispers, her fingers found the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The caress of her fingers against his skin echoed their shared thrumming excitement, arching his back into her touch.
Pulling back slightly, he looked into her eyes, the intensity of his gaze making her breath hitch. His voice was low, matching the rhythm of their swaying bodies. “Is this okay?” he asked. Still, she merely nodded, this non-verbal communication already forming a bond of understanding between them.
The lighthearted banter was no longer light but now laden with the buildup. Each laugh, each sigh, every word, every pause coalesces into an ensemble of amplified sensations. Their conversation had warped, no longer consisting of words but of whispered breaths, muffled laughs, and silences that spoke volumes.
The echo of their shared intimacy hung in the air, a silent testament to their cultivated closeness throughout the day. The steamy atmosphere of the bathroom seemed to magnify the significance of their interactions, acting as a hushed soundtrack that played alongside their rhythm as they continued to discover and appreciate each other in a new light.
Their shared laughter and gentle sighs, their silent language exchanged through subtle touches and lingering looks, evolved, gathering and moving forward into something utterly electrifying. Their communication was no longer verbal. Instead, it was a sensory-led sonata composed of whispered breaths, muffled giggles, comfortable silence, and a charged atmosphere. Each heartbeat and rapid inhale affirmed the shared, tangible intimacy that had blossomed among the day’s occurrences.
The hot, steamy air from the bathroom acted as a magnifying glass, intensifying even the most elemental aspects of their interactions. It brought an acutely amplified awareness, serving as the unsung background melody to their dynamic chorus. It was a silent orchestra musician, never missing a beat, as they explored deeper degrees of symbiosis, illuminating one another under a new light.
“Let’s dry you off,” Kihyun declared gently once they left the essence-filled bathroom, reaching for a plush towel. His voice echoed softly in the hazy atmosphere; the steam warped his words into a comforting, distant hum.
Wrapping the towel around her lovingly, he pulled her towards him. The couple stood intimately close, their figures barely distinguishable in the foggy aura. A heartbeat echoed in the silence. Whether hers or his, neither could tell.
Then, the world seemed to still when he leaned in, his eyes never leaving hers as he sealed their lips into a kiss. It was sweet, lingering - a silent promise, an unspoken connection. He did so gently, cradling her face as if she was the most precious thing he’d ever encountered. The kiss was charged, and she reciprocated passionately, each press of their lips whispering silent stories of shared understanding and adoration.
Dressed in a warm, softened aura of the lingering kiss, they navigated towards her room. Kihyun, ever familiar due to the abundance of his visits, possessed several spare outfits at her place. He dressed with an appealing, homely ease that was welcomingly comforting.
“Let’s get you dressed, okay?” Kihyun asked, his voice dropped to a soft caress as he held out one of her pajamas. Helping her into her clothes, he took on the role of her caregiver easily, demonstrating the depth of his regard for her.
The night’s story was still unfolding, leaving an exciting sense of anticipation and yearning in its wake, the couple elegantly navigating through the tangle of emotions with grace and mutual respect.
With a gentle nod, she held out her arms, allowing Kihyun to assist her into the soft fabric of her pajamas. The room engulfed them in a soothing cascade of comfort, an extension of the overwhelming warmth that had enveloped them throughout the day. In the quiet intimacy of her space, Kihyun’s presence felt incredibly natural, a testament to the compelling bond they had developed.
The process was unhurried and full of subtle, lingering touches that stoked the emotional fire between them. Every pull of fabric or adjustment of a button was a reaffirmation of his growing sense of protective affection towards her. The innocently intimate gesture of helping her dress seemed to thread an unspoken pledge into their connection: a promise of unwavering support and care that transcended before, now, and what may come.
“Done,” he whispered, locking his eyes with hers again. She nodded, a soft, uncharacteristically shy smile blossoming on her face. Their eyes held a conversation of their own - an exchange of gratitude, fondness, and anticipation under a shared understanding.
With this newfound closeness, they navigated towards her bed. The sheets seemed to welcome them, offering comfort after the day’s excitement. As they settled into each other comfortably, the outside world ceased to exist. It was their sanctuary, and they were the rulers.
“Goodnight, Kihyun,” she murmured, parting the silence with her words. Her voice fluttered across the silent room, carrying unspoken sentiments cloaked under it. She entwined her fingers with his, offering the soft pressure of connection as a closing to the day’s events.
“Goodnight,” he echoed back softly, his thumb delicately stroking her hand, resonating a comforting rhythm to lull them into relaxation. His gaze never left hers as if silently assuring her of his constant presence. “And Merry Christmas.”
#kchristmas#kvanity#monsta x imagines#monsta x x reader#kihyun imagines#kihyun imagine#kihyun x reader#kihyun fluff#monsta x fluff
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Manga With Me: Obscure Head Canons (and Hypotheses) You’d Probably Develop When Reading the JJK Light Novels, Pt 2
Same as before, hypotheses at the end in case you want to keep it light and tight!
Part One
⚠️ Spoiler Warning for Jujutsu Kaisen Thorny Road at Dawn and season 2 of the anime (manga spoilers are vague at best).
Head Canon: The Moral High Ground is Going to Cost You
There's something to be said for sorcerers who operate in secret, careful to not evoke chaos with the existence of their strength and power and that of curses. Moreso when, in the heat of battle, they still factor in the greater good and weigh it against those in immediate danger. We saw it in Shibuya as Gojo used his technique in the presence of countless civilians which still came at a great cost to them. He was a bit more cavalier but the first story focused on Inumaki and his monk-like discipline to never use words carelessly lest he curse those around him.
Curses and curse users are shown to be morally impudent and his careful existence is juxtaposed by a curse user with a similar technique who employs it freely and without giving it a second thought as he tries to capture and subsequently traffick Nobara. Even when backed into a corner, Inumaki is taking hits to avoid accidentally causing harm to Nobara and it does him no favors. This is obviously indicative of a larger theme we see wherein the primary antagonists of JJK are regularly seen frolicking on the beach, playing soccer, playing board games, etc. Meanwhile, the limited stock of sorcerers are regularly having their asses handed to them for the sake of doing the right thing. Another stunning example of this is Nanami Kento when compared directly to Mei Mei.
Head Canon: Perhaps, More Specifically, Emotional Ties to Others Are Going to Cost You
What's funny about this is the fact that this is shown multiple times in a novel that only has five stories. We've already seen it countless times in the anime/manga:
JJK 0 - Yuta's inability to part with Rika curses her.
Season 1 - Megumi saves Yuji or vice versa and it brings about Sukuna and the killing curse upon Tsumiki.
Season 1 - Junpei's mother is used as his breaking point just as Junpei himself is used as leverage against Yuji.
Season 2 - There's something to be said about Riko Amanai and the hopelessness and turmoil her death inspires, whether you want to say Geto was emotionally tied to her or not.
Season 2 - In the story's biggest reveal, we come to realize that Gojo's inability to properly dispose of Geto's body creates a vulnerability Kenjaku is able to exploit.
While the story with Inumaki also ties into this, I think his relationship with Nobara is more proximal and subsequently, his story more or less shows that he is earnest regardless of whose safety is on the line. Emotion being a sliding scale and all, it makes sense that Mechamaru's story is the best example of how, even when there wasn't a physical risk to him, he was still grappling with how best to win a fight against another shikigami user. Mechamaru is uniquely qualified for the fight since his robot body is the only thing that can go into a gas infused curtain. While this is another example of technique matchups, ultimately, it's a far better insight into Mechamaru's presumed pragmatism when weighed against his affection for Miwa. He'd rather potentially gamble a strategic loss than jeopardize a friendship bracelet she'd given him. As for it's impact on the larger story, this heat of the moment desperation to maintain this connection to Miwa is perhaps what later inspires him to be greedier down the line in seeking a new body from Ken!Geto and Mahito and... we see how that turned out.
Head Canon: Gojo is Far More Sentimental Than His Flippancy Suggests
Gojo is constantly on his bull shit. The duality of the strongest sorcerer capable of processing everything who is constantly spouting Digimon references, binging sugary sweets and asking about his colleague's kink satisfaction is my favorite thing, honestly. Gojo cavalierly addresses his responsibilities as a sorcerer, one could argue he's kind of a bad teacher, but he goes out of his way to protect people even if his manner is rude. He point blank told Ijichi to not become a sorcerer lest he be killed which was disrespectful as hell but... the man had a point. Ijichi falls under the purview of Gojo's concern (whether that be as his once kohai or given how useful he is to him now, I won't say) and Gojo pulls strings to make sure that he too is taken care of. Ijichi, the backbone of operations at Jujutsu Tokyo carries that weight unyieldingly because he assumes "it's the least he can do" even though we know that managers actually pave the way for a lot of the goings on in jujutsu society. It's a symbiotic relationship but Ijichi carries every loss, like Yuji's death on a mission, excruciatingly personally. To the point where it wears him down. In the last book, we saw that, following Geto's defection, Gojo recognizes the delicate nature of a person's heart. It's why he entrusts Yuji's mentorship to Nanami. What's interesting about all of this is, if he can see Ijichi's stress and exhaustion, how did he miss Geto's? Maybe that's a burden he also carries. Ironically, I think this harsh way of caring for others is maybe the way of the sorcerers because we see it with Megumi and Nobara in how they treat Yuji.
Head Canon: There's an Obvious Sacrifice of Youth in Jujutsu Society But There's Also Nowhere for Girlhood to Exist
With what we don't see of Mai in the main story, the story that centers on her deciding to go against orders and take on a curse much stronger than her is actually so heartbreaking? Let's start off with the fact that she chose to unnecessarily exorcise a flyhead which is ultimately what forges a connection between her and Yuu, a girl who later became a window for sorcerers. Seems like a small task considering Mai's relative competency but as the story progresses, we get a deep insight into the fact that, the terror Mai had for curses as a kid is still alive and well within her. Whether she can defend herself or not, she is still fearful but she pushes forward "alone" because that's the only choice Maki left her with.
What's interesting about Mai and the Kyoto students is, 1) the sheer volume/concentration of female students compared to Tokyo and, 2) their propensity to attack as a group with the exception of Todo. In JJK 0, Maki remarked that those who are weak tend to have to stick together. I don't mention this as an assessment of the relative strength of Miwa, Nishimoto or Mai (especially since I still think Miwa will get a power up). But this story demonstrates their pack mentality when they were just idling in a cafe like students should but even in not allowing Mai to go after Yuu alone. Their success was because of their reliance on one another but, from what we've seen in Shibuya and what's to come in the culling games... that doesn't bode well for fighters who can't defend on their own.
Mai is a product of one of the big 3 jujutsu families, the Zenin clan being incredibly misogynistic to boot. As such, she is still downtrodden and runs the risk of being admonished even when fulfilling duties in line with what a sorcerer should do. She (and the other girls) are damned if they do and damned if they don't. Additionally, I assume the Kyoto school's tendency to fight as a group is from the influence of Gakuganji (which leads me to think Gojo might be pushing his students a bit more recklessly for the sake of making them stronger). But where there are many characters, specifically adults, who have an outright desire to protect their childhood, I think it's interesting that Mai, Miwa and Nishimoto are doing all they can to hang onto whatever sense of girlhood they can muster. It makes them catty and they seem to espouse some misogynistic ideals of what girls should look like and be but the basis of it is still desperately grasping at something that keeps them soft in the face of terror which, in their own mind, is probably a rebellion to what they know. That and, I think Mai is hyper aware of her weakness. That coupled with her dissatisfaction as a sorcerer ultimately later guides her steps in the resolution of her character arc.
Hypothesis: There's a Reason Gojo is Always Pondering the Figures and Politics of Periods Long Gone
I frequently question what goes on in the mind of Satoru Gojo. He has, for all intents and purposes, all the time in the world to process and compute all the mysteries of the universe. Instead, he asks his coworkers about whether they're caught up on Jump Comics at bars. He's so unserious. But at the same time, he'll immediately follow this silliness with a deep cut like -
"Our precious present rests atop the deeds of our forebears." - Gojo Satoru
He absolutely gets clowned for his random pop culture references and, any time he calls upon a historical reference (of which he seems to be really knowledgeable about), it seems shocking to most of those around him (Shoko notwithstanding). The girls who get it know that Gojo is just as traumatized as Geto. He's just traumatized ✨🤪 where Geto is traumatized 🔪. So this veneer of goofiness belies what is ultimately a really contemplative person and one who holds a clear grievance against jujutsu elders. We know that Gojo telling Megumi about their ancestors locked in battle is obviously something that becomes a critical plot point later (hello, Sukuna showdown which we're not getting into here). It told Megumi he could have power that rivals Gojo's but it was also critical exposition for us as readers. We've also seen that Yuta, a distant, distant Gojo relative is similarly OP and this was established by his ancient connection to Gojo as well. Again, critical exposition into how things fall together when Gojo is no longer on the board. But what I'm hypothesizing is... suppose Gojo had tangential knowledge of Kenjaku this whole time? Kenjaku was clearly wary of Gojo, for good reason, but was Gojo already aware of the existence of the body snatcher? What a reveal that would be.
Hypothesis: There Are Bad Match-Ups But The Best Way To Beat a Cursed User Is With A Stronger Version Of Their Own Technique
So this isn't a comprehensive hypothesis since I know it's only half true. Por ejemplo, in the first two stories Inumaki fought a cursed speech user and Mechamaru fought a shikigami user. The victorious combatants happened to have stronger versions of the shared technique (and maybe a strategic edge). This, of course, lends to the idea that the resolution to this story may lay in the hands of Yuta Okkotsu. Okkotsu can summon immeasurable cursed energy and copy techniques. Who's gonna check him? BUT, in reality, we also know that there are also, canonically bad matchups. For instance, Yuji and Nobara are bad matchups for Mahito - Yuji's soul is protected in a sense and Nobara's technique allows her to strike spilled blood or discarded limbs/extensions of one's body to injure the main body.
We know Sukuna, at this point, is the big bad that will require taking down but we don't know how at this point. Nobara would of course be helpful given the still outstanding fingers but is tentatively off the board for now (this is a hill I will die on). But, are there other allies who haven't been revealed that will help in taking Sukuna down or will it all come down to Yuta? At this point, Gege wrote themselves into a box they are trying to course correct with the in universe power scale but I'm curious how things will fall.
What do you think? There's a fifth story that is super heartwarming and too sad to write about given the conclusion of season 2 so go read the novel for yourself and let me know your thoughts!
#manga with me#manga with me jjk#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#anime#manga#headcanon#head canon#meta analysis#manga analysis#jjk light novel#thorny road at dawn#jjk meta#meta#gojo satoru#yuji itadori#inumaki toge#nobara kugisaki#mechamaru#muta kokichi#mai zenin#yuta okkotsu#kiyotaka ijichi
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Could you do more Marko X Reader fics? You can make it as filthy as possible. I live reading your work <3
Teacher's Pet 📏
Marko/GN!Reader
Summary: Marko has a new, fun game in mind for you. One that will test your vampire knowledge and your tolerance for pain. You show him all the hard things you can take~
Thank you @american-idiot-jpg for the request! I appreciate your patience and I hope you enjoy this! Also big thank you to @ghoulgeousimmaculate for helping pull me out of my writing funk and put this together!!
WARNINGS: Nsfw/Smut/18+ Readers Only, Professor/Student Roleplay, Costumes, Teasing, Flirting, Dom/Sub, Spanking, Fingering, Punishment/Reward, Sex on a desk, Bent over, Rough Sex, Praise, Affection, Blood Drinking, No specific genitalia/pronouns used
Marko was a sneaky little thing. Though he had a very chaotic energy to him, he was actually quite methodical. Whenever he was in the mood to play one of his devious little games, he was sure to set up everything exactly how he wanted it.
So when you found a particularly lewd costume laid across your bed, you knew he was ready to play with you.
It wasn't much material to wear. A small, white crop top that tied in the front, a red, plaid-patterned tie, some matching shorts, and a pair of black knee-high socks to go with some plain loafers. Before you even put it on you knew that the outfit wasn't going to leave much to the imagination.
You knew better than to complain though. Marko always got what he wanted, and if he desired to see you dressed like his own personal plaything, then so be it. With your body barely covered, you wandered through the cave taverns to find the play area Marko loved so much. You only hoped none of the other vampires would see you and make vulgar comments on your appearance.
Marko's special room was blocked off by a thick, red, velvet curtain. This time around there was a unique addition. A small sign pinned to one of the sides.
Professor Marko
Subtle as a flying mallet, that one. At least you had all the clues you needed to play along with his game. As you pushed the curtain aside, you only hoped he'd play nice with you.
"Come in."
Marko's voice was surprisingly serious in tone. You thought about how unlike him it was until you got a look at what he was wearing.
His usual leather chaps and elaborate jacket had been traded for a button-down shirt and khakis. His hair was tied back and on the bridge of his nose sat a pair of reading glasses. While he leaned up against an antique writing desk he glanced down at a book in his hand. It was almost like looking at a version of Marko from an alternate universe. One where he was a strict, studious guy and not a vampire hoodlum.
Still, even with his getup, a familiar, wild look was burning in his eyes when he caught sight of you.
“Have a seat, dear,” Marko ordered. “We don’t have time to dawdle. Your exam is in a week, and we don’t want to fail, do we?”
You gulped audibly as he pulled up a plain, wooden chair for you to sit in. He really did have the stage set for this little performance you two were going to put on. It made your heart race with fear and anticipation. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you nodded and made your way over to him, sitting down immediately.
Now you felt even more vulnerable. Your shorts were riding up a bit, showing off the length of your legs and thighs. Sitting down allowed Marko to drink in more of you, gazing with pure authority and power in his eyes. He truly was in control.
Marko enjoyed watching you squirm. The rapid thrum of your heart sounded so lovely in his ears. He kept his gaze trained on you as he strolled over to the antique black chalkboard and picked up the dusty white stalk.
“Our subject matter is lore,” he informed as he began scrawling on the panel, “in relation to vampirism…so tell me, how does one become a vampire?” He asked with his hands clasped behind his back. He stared at you, patiently awaiting your answer.
You had to admit, you were impressed. He really did think of everything. Probably went by the local thrift shop for his props. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. You knew everything about vampires considering you had been the mate of one for so long now. With your posture straightening up a bit, you confidently answered his question.
“There are two different ways to become a vampire, Sir,” you explained. “The first is by drinking a vampire's blood and completing a first feed and kill of a human. The second is by getting a direct bite and having your bloodstream corrupted.”
Marko jotted your answer on the board, smirking at the inflection of confidence that appeared in your voice. He could tell you thought you had this in the bag, being his mate for years now, but he had a few tricks up his sleeve. He wanted you to get cocky so that he could cut you down at just the right time.
“Very good! I’m pleased you remember that core piece of information, but tell me, what’s the relevance of religious objects to a vampire?”
“Religious objects are dangerous to vampires. Holy water burns the skin in small doses and melts it in large ones. The sign of the cross does nothing, but an actual cross will hurt a vampire. If you’re invited in somewhere, then they do no damage, but otherwise, they’re deadly.”
You wondered what other questions Marko had in store. Maybe this whole teacher scenario was a way to praise you and make you feel extra good. Perhaps the sadistic vampire was feeling a little generous this time around. Of course, that was an incredibly naive thought to have. You had no idea what deviant thoughts were circling around in that head of his.
Marko stifled a chuckle, jotting down the answer to your second question. He turned to face you, leaning against his desk once more as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Excellent work!” He praised. “You appear to be an expert. Perhaps you can answer this question for me—true or false, according to the Ancient Greeks, vampires can cross salt water.”
In a mere moment, your confidence was drained. Your smile fell and your eyes widened as panic overtook your brain. Marko and the boys hadn’t ever mentioned anything about salt water. This had to be a trick question.
All five of you lived by the ocean, meaning they were around salt water all the time. Surely they wouldn’t live in a seaside city if they were at risk of not getting around properly. The power of flight wouldn’t be stopped by a mere body of water….right?
“Um….it’s….true?”
Marko smirked, his Cheshire grin widening as his stern expression cracked.
“It’s false.” Marko tutted as he strolled towards you. “Water is an interesting topic in vampire lore. The Ancient Greeks believed vampires couldn’t cross running water. In a legend, all vampires were banished to an island, to be trapped for eternity. The Romani believed vampires couldn’t pass over water in general. In Transylvania, a common funeral practice was to walk the deceased through a river or stream to prevent the soul from following living so reanimation could not occur.”
You had no idea Marko was so versatile in different vampire lore from all over the world. From the moment you stepped into the ‘classroom’ you assumed it would all be a test on actual vampire facts. There was so much you didn’t know about cultural beliefs on the monsters you had gotten to know personally.
“I didn’t know. I….I’m sorry…” you said, feeling somewhat dumb now. What would your mate do since you got the answer wrong? You were already trembling in your skimpy little uniform.
“Let’s play a game, dear,” Marko proposed. “Studies say that learning through play is a highly effective strategy. I will continue to quiz you on your knowledge of vampirism and lore, and for every question that’s correct, you’ll receive a reward. But—” He paused for dramatic effect. “For every question that’s incorrect, you’ll receive a spanking. So if you’ll please, assume the position,” he ordered, gesturing to his desk.
If your heart wasn’t racing before, it certainly was now. Marko was acting like the sneaky little thing you knew and loved. You squeezed your thighs together, rubbing them as you felt the beginning hints of arousal rush through your body. The idea of being bent over and punished by his hand was as exciting as it was scary.
You would play along with this game, and do your best with each question. Whatever he wanted to do with your body depended on how well you did. With a needy, innocent look in your eyes, you nodded in acceptance.
“Y-Yes…Sir…”
Marko hummed as he watched you cross the room and lean over his desk, his eyes on your ass and thighs. The pants he had worn for his costume were already feeling quite tight in the front.
“That’s it, little one,” he cooed. “I’ll make a model student out of you, yet…bend over and spread ‘em wide…” He glided to his desk, grabbing a 36-inch long wooden yardstick along the way. He stood behind you, slapping the yardstick over his palm to get a reaction. He chuckled heartily when he saw you flinch.
“Now, next question,” Marko purred as he ran the wooden tool up the inside of your leg, enjoying the sight of you shivering in fear. “True or False, decapitation is an effective way of slaying a vampire.”
It was incredibly difficult to think straight when the massive stick was running along your bare skin. Corporal punishment was most certainly not in schools anymore, but Marko didn’t seem to care. If he had the opportunity to mix pain and pleasure with you, he would take the chance without a second thought.
You took a shaky breath as you tried your best to focus. This was a more of something you knew. The boys told stories about vampires they knew that had met an unfortunate demise. If there was no head, that meant the body was no longer any danger. Surely this question was straightforward with the answer.
“T-True!”
Marko chuckled, leaning forward to whisper into your ear. “Neither.”
“What?”
“It is neither true nor false. In fiction, decapitation is a suitable method for dispatching a vampire. In life, a few of our friends had died in the very same way, but in folklore, decapitation is merely a part of the process. An additional precaution after staking or other methods of dispatch. Take Lucy Westerna in Dracula, for example. The poor maiden was killed after being staked in the heart, but Van Helsing removed her head to be safe.”
“Another example,” Marko continued, “is a shoemaker in sixteen century Poland, formerly known as Breslau. The man committed suicide, but after burial, the townspeople were plagued by his presence. He appeared to them at night, assaulting them in their beds. When his body was exhumed, they saw that after having been buried for over seven months, his body had not decayed. They reburied him, thinking that would resolve the issue, but he still appeared to them at night. He stopped haunting his hometown only after his head and limbs were removed.”
“So…that means you’re wrong, little one.” Marko giggled, jutting his arm back to strike you on your bottom. He lingered in the air a few moments to watch your squirm before bringing the wood down with a thwack!
Your body jolted when the stick hit your skin. The flimsy pair of shorts were not protecting you from any pain at all, meaning you felt the full force of the impact. The flesh of your ass jiggled from the hit, giving Marko a very pleasant sight while you were dealing with the pain. It was so sharp and rough. If this was awaited you with every wrong question, you were going to have to step up your game.
“I-I’m sorry, Sir!” you whimpered. “I’ll do better, I promise!”
Sadistic chuckling greeted your ears. Even with the pain, you felt yourself rubbing your thighs together again. Marko really knew how to put your body through intense sensations.
“I forgive you,” Marko crooned as he rubbed your bottom with his palm. “But if you want to pass this exam, you must focus.”
You nodded, quietly muttering your agreement. Marko stepped back, perching himself in your chair. He crossed his legs, taking in the glorious view of your ass hiked in the air over his desk. He would love to fuck you over the antique cherrywood. But he’d save that for later.
“Next question,” Marko cooed as he tapped the yardstick against the leg of his chair. “True or False, vampires must sleep in coffins.”
Relief washed over you with that question. You watched the boys sleep every day. You KNEW this one, and you weren’t going to let Marko punish you again for something so obvious.
“False! They can hang from the ceiling much like bats,” you answered, trying your best to sound confident. “So long as it’s somewhere dark where the sunlight won’t harm them during the day.”
Your body was trembling terribly as Marko taunted you with the tapping of his stick. Even if you knew the answer was correct, you still mentally prepared for the slap against your ass again if this was another trick question.
The tapping ceased and you froze, keening your head to the side to listen for his movements. But you heard nothing, the vampire moving with a speed and grace left you terrified and confused. You didn’t know where he was or whether you were right or wrong until you felt his hands on your body.
You yelped, nearly jumping out of your skin when you felt his hands on legs. He gave your ass a slap, but it was playful not punitive. You jiggled and Marko snickered. His titter was light hearted and free from sadism. You had a feeling that you were in the clear, but with Marko’s unpredictability, you weren’t sure.
“Good job, little one,” Marko praised as his fingers grabbed the hem of your shorts. “You are correct…looks like you earned a treat.”
He pulled your pants down, exposing your bottom to the crisp air of the cave’s alcove. Prodding at your cheeks, Marko explored your body until he found your orifice. His fingers were slick with something warm and wet, no doubt his favorite brand of lube being used. That warmth teased you more as he began to slip a finger inside of you.
"O-Oh!" you gasped. Marko softly chuckled at your reaction. He knew your body better than anybody in the world, and he proved it as such when he crooked his finger to massage your insides. Your muscles relaxed and your voice let out a sigh as he touched you. He practically had you purring like a kitten.
“There’s my good baby~” he praised you. “My devoted little pupil. If you keep it up with the next question, I’ll be more than happy to give you more of this good touch.”
This time you didn’t answer him with your voice. You simply nodded, ready for more of what he had to offer. Whether the test would be hard or easy, you didn’t care in the slightest. You were just going to give it your all and chase that sweet high of pleasure some more.
Marko smiled as you cooed and sighed from his ministrations. He enjoyed toying with your body, feeling you pulse around him. The only thing that delighted him more was tearing into a throbbing vein or artery.
“Next question,” Marko continued with your quiz. “True or False, vampires are compelled to count millet when spilled?”
Another easy one. You thought such an idea was laughable. Getting vampires to start counting as a way to stop an attack. But you bit back your giggle in favor of another moan. The power of his fingers was just too strong.
"Mmmn…false, Sir~"
You arched your back as you pressed your hips closer to your 'professor'. If he kept this up you were going to be a happy little teacher's pet.
“Very good, my dear,” Marko praised. “You’re on your way to an A plus. Now, let’s see if you can answer this one,” he questioned as he pumped his fingers. “Is Count Von Count from Sesame Street based on the the piece of folklore we just discussed?”
You paused, thinking deeply about the question. You weren’t too sure about this one, but if you used context clues in relation to the name and the concept, it seemed obvious that is was.
“Y-yes?” You replied hesitantly.
Marko tutted, ceasing his movements and removing his hand. You whined audibly. Your insides feeling empty and neglect from his retreat.
“Sadly, the answer is ‘No,’” Marko replied with a sigh before stuffing his fingers in his mouth. He lapped away the edible lube, savoring the strawberry taste mixed with your signature flavor before carelessly wiping his hand on his khakis. Leaning forward, he retrieved the yardstick from his desk and raised it into the air.
“The Count is based on Bela Lugosi’s design and performance, but it’s never been explicitly said on screen that he was a vampire. The Count’s compulsion with counting and numbers is also purely coincidence.”
Your body tensed in preparation for impact. Of course Marko would pull the rug under you with that obvious trap or a question. You would hit yourself in frustration if your mate wasn't about to do it for you.
"And speaking of counting," Marko remarked, still holding the stick to keep your anticipation high. "If you count these next spanks out for me like a good little student, I'll skip ahead to the bonus question."
Knowing Marko, that could mean DOZENS of spanks. You were shaking terribly on top of the desk, wanting nothing more than to get this torture over with.
"B-Bonus question?"
"Yes, darling. It determines how I'm gonna fuck you. Sweet and giving or…"
Smack!
The yardstick hit your ass with a mighty strike. A yipe fell from your mouth from the fright of both the sound and sensation.
"Hard and rough," Marko finished his sentence, voice dripping with wickedness. "So get to counting, my little pupil~"
“Y-yes, Sir!” You muttered into the wood, eager and prepared to please despite your fear.
Marko raised the yardstick again and swiftly brought the thick piece of wood down with a hefty Smack!
“Aah! One!” You replied immediately, grunting your answer through the stinging pain.
He raised his arm one more and delivered another blow, forcing another moan from your lips. “Ugh! Two!”
Marko worked you over, punishing you with a twinkle of sadistic glee in his eyes. You counted, crying out in pain in between each delivery. But like a good student, you completed your task, the experience ending with you panting into the wood. Your bottom was tender and flushed, with thick welts forming on the surface.
You were in great pain, but as you rubbed your thighs together, you felt pleasure. A lust for him to take you. You couldn’t go on like this. Whether he fucked you or made love to you, you needed him inside you.
“Final question. Where did the idea that vampires did not hold a reflection first come from?
It was hard enough catching your breath after crying out for Marko with each spank. Now you had to get your brain to cooperate with you so that this final question could be answered. You forced yourself to relax. Focus. Really think about this.
Reflections. The boys didn’t have reflections in places they weren’t invited. When they were invited and they could blend in as humans, then the reflections appeared. That was a fact, but Marko wanted to test you on the lore of it. God, you wished you had done more reading in your freetime.
Thinking back to when you and the boys watched the iconic Bela Lugosi film for movie night, you thought about Dracula’s powers and weaknesses. In one scene, he slapped a box out of Van Helsing’s hand because it contained a mirror that showed no reflection. If that happened in the book it was based on, then that meant Bram Stoker originally created the idea.
It was a total shot in the dark. You had no idea if other writers or cultures had proposed such an idea earlier in history. Better give it the old college try.
“B-Bram Stoker…” you whimpered, shutting your eyes tight and waiting for Marko to tell you whether you passed or failed.
Marko pursed his lips as he eyed your trembling form. He was a little salty that you were holding your own. He was hoping you’d bomb miserably so he could have his way with you. He wasn’t in the mood for tenderness even though that was one of your options. So he decided to exploit a little loophole…
“Mirrors are an interesting thing in vampire lore,” Marko mused. “The first documented instance of vampires not casting a reflection does in fact appear in Dracula. But there are some folk tales that predate Bram Stoker that relate vampires to mirrors.”
“Mirrors don’t just reflect our physical visage, little one,” Marko continued. “Many cultures relate the mirror to superstition and the human soul—which is why it is common for the mirror to be covered after a loved one passes. In Romani culture, it’s believed that a corpse could turn into a vampire if a mirror is present. But nothing is explicitly said about the reflection. So, the mirror appears in lore before Dracula was published, but Draculal solidified it as a rule.”
“You’re both correct and incorrect.”
“What does that even mean?!” You gasped in confusion.
“That means we both get what we want~”
Before you even had a moment to process his answer, Marko had his hands on you. His fingers grabbed at your hips, pulling you backward so you were pressed up against his body. Long, thick claws sliced into your shorts, tearing away the fabric so that you were completely exposed to him.
Marko was positively insatiable. His long tongue licked across his lips in hunger while his eyes drank in your delicious-looking ass. He couldn’t stop himself from kneading the flesh. You whimpered softly when you felt his erection rub up against your body.
“You seem to do well with praise, my little one. But you need discipline to become the star pupil I know you can be~”
The vampire unzipped his pants with one hand while squeezing at your ass with the other. A lustful moan fell from his lips as his hard, aching cock was freed. He had been aching to take you all night, and now he was going to get what he desired most. Though he was gentle slipping himself inside your lubed hole, that was the extent to the tenderness of his physical actions.
“If you can take this, then I know you can take on anything~” he purred before slamming his hips into you. You let out a yipe, not prepared to go so fast so soon. Without thinking, you grabbed hold onto the sides of the desk, and gripped as hard as you could.
Marko ruthlessly pistoned his hips into you, demonic growls of pleasure falling from his fanged lips. If you could see his face, you would tremble. The vampire’s visage was nightmarish. Marko’s mouth was contorted into a wicked smile while his eyes blazed brighter than any jack-o-lantern.
He wasn’t Marko, your boyfriend, or even Marko the sadist. He was Marko, the monster and you were his plaything for the evening.
But despite channeling his inner beast, he cooed the sweetest words as he ravaged you. Things romantics would whisper to their lovers in the throes of passion. It wasn’t completely odd to you though. Marko found beauty and passion in things that people would label barbaric.
“That’s it, love,” Marko crooned. “You look so beautiful like this…my perfect human~”
“Oh!! Ooooh!!” you cried out for him.
Marko was a tough lover in every way imaginable. You would never fully get used to all the toys, roleplay and domination he loved to use on you. He was a viscious creature with decades of experience. It would take quite some time before you were caught up to even half his level.
And even so, you took it all eagerly. You let him do to your body as he wished. Whatever games he wanted to play would be taken on. He could control you from the inside out and always crave more. As long as you had his heart in return, you accepted him for who he was.
“My darling little one….fuck…my precious love…soooo perfect~” he purred.
His sweet nothings didn’t match his movements though. Certainly not when he grabbed a fistfull of your hair and pulled it hard. You cried out as he forced you upward more, wanting you nice and close as he fucked your brains out.
”I adore every little thought in that head, amore mio~”
Another yank to your hair was given, tugging sideways so your bare neck was exposed for the vampire. An eerie chuckle greeted your ears as he ran his inhuman tongue over your flesh, teasing the veins underneath.
“Let me cherish you. WORSHIP you. I’d perish without you~”
Marko sank fangs into your throat. His pearly white sharpened canines punctured your tender flesh, freeing thick rivulets of crimson that ran down your shoulder. You mewled in pain, but your whine quickly shifted into a sultry moan as Marko snapped his hips. He massaged a tender spot deep inside you. One engorged ridge that made you see stars.
Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your mouth hung slack. Marko fed from you, pulling your life’s nectar from your body. You swayed on your feet as a high hit you. The sense that you were floating set in. That sensation coupled with the ministrations of Marko’s brutal pace nudged you closer to the edge. That peak where you’d tip over into the abyss.
“F-FUCK! Master…~” You whined as you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, holding the pouty flesh hostage in between your teeth.
Feeling your body get closer and closer to the release was enough to push Marko towards his own. He unlatched himself from your neck and lapped at the last drops of blood as he kept railing you into the desk.
"Gonna cum for me, little one? Cum for your teacher and show me what devoted student you are?" he cooed. You nodded feverishly, causing him to smile so wickedly.
"I knew you were a good pupil. Come on, little love. Cum with me! Do it!!"
His command hit you like a goddamn truck. Your back arched against his chest and your head fell backwards. All of your limbs tensed up and your stomach contracted as the rush of orgasm consumed you. Pathetic cries mixed with his low moans. It was a truly beautiful sight.
"M-Marko!! Ooh my god~!!" you whimpered. The sweetness of your orgasm was already making quite the mess on the desk below you. It only turned Marko on more.
“If I could stay inside you for eternity, I would,” Marko cooed as he eyed the mess. “I love the masterpieces you make….”
Marko bucked into you one last time. He exploded inside you, his release bathing your insides with a flood of warmth in your lower belly. You whined as he twitched inside you, the writhing of both of your bodies making beautiful art together.
When the high of your pleasure finally subsided, you slumped over the desk again. You were completely spent, both from blood loss and Marko’s perfect cock. Either way, he was more than satisfied with how you looked underneath him. He was careful slipping out of you, knowing you had enough roughness for one day.
“There’s a good mate~” he cooed as he helped turn you over onto your back. You smiled sheepishly from how he stared at you with such intensitiy. “God, I’m a fuckin’ genius for getting you this costume.”
“You look pretty sexy yourself in that getup~”
Marko raised an eyebrow, amused by that statement. He slipping off the glasses with one hand and toyed with the buttons on his shirt with the other.
“What about what’s underneath this?”
Your shy smile morphed into a sly smirk at that question. The two of you kept the sultry gaze going while you wrapped your legs around his hips and tugged him closer again.
“Why don’t you show me, Sir?”
Marko liked that answer quite a bit. After all, as your teacher, he still had plenty of fun lessons to go over with you. He would be incredibly diligent with such an eager learner~
Tag List: @britany1997 @6lostgirl6 @legal-lost-boy @michael-after-hours @bloodywickedvamp @oceansrose2002
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Twst Android Au p4
Chapter: Scarabia and Owners
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You stride out of Pomefiore halls with some snags of your clothes from the branches, plucking you to return to the androids you're totally not running from. You'd just rather get the move on of course. The phantom chirping of thuarmarks bills dance around your head, mocking you. The Owner follows after you, jogging in her kitten heels, the faint clicking of metal is soft, but you assume it to be whatever keys she has on her.
Out of the Pomefiore's painted hall and back to the center of the hall and towards the bright sunny hall of rolling sand dunes and bright skies. The magic of Twisted Wonderland is unique, gifted to plenty but not to everyone. Most like you have no magic but can still sense and use magic infused items sort of a consolation prize.
Magicians from hermit humans and boisterous ones, to the magical fae who ruled the spaces of darkness and lights, to the mermaids who from the warmest lf waters and chilliest of oceans floors can use it freely and make wonders. Wanders and wonders that leave you breathless and envious of what can be done.
And now the brilliance of Raven Works magicians and technicians whose androids have left you wanting ... .and earnest to see more than what your friends from college had shown you
Even the hall has its soft winds gracing the loose fabrics of your clothes, the rustle of the Owner's skirt, as she strides past you in the hall, waving her hand," And here my dear customer is the hall of Scarabia. Our models of the beautiful Scalding Sands. "
You nod as you watch the walls of the hall, have grains of sand fly in arcs, as you turn the corner of the hall, the head of the old Sultan's Palace, peeking over the green leaves of palm trees. You had to admit, Raven Works really do live up to its hype. At the end of the hall there are no heavy doors like Pomefiore androids had. There instead were large heavy red curtains open and tied by heavy braided tassels, soft longer fabrics strewn across the ceilings with floating glass candles. As you wonder in bright eyes, the Owner giggling as she follows you a little sing song tone.
"Beautiful right? The androids today in our display are just two. Two legacies of our Al-Asim and Viper collection. Now I see that question in your eyes," The owner tuts tuts as she guides you past the dancing fountain. You follow, amazed how so much can fit into this building, but once again magic has done its course."Why just two? But of course the Grand Vizier and the dear Sultan whom he served."
Soft scent of sandalwood and jasmine wafted across the room, soft smoke curling around your jaw. You let out a soft sigh feeling more relaxed when you left the Pomefiore hall.
Before you could even say anything, the Owner led you into a space where two glass cases stood erect, facing each other. Unlike Pomefiore androids, these two were kept at a distance. Throwing her hands out with a grand laugh,"Tah-dah~!"
An android with short white hair, tufts sticking out with gold sheen in his hair, stood under the sunlight filtering into the room. His clothes were a pallet of rich hues of red and gold, black making them more bright. Wrapped around his head a red turban-like headband with a red parrot's feathered edged with an azure blue. Gold round beads embroidered and dangled over the fabric, with red like gems that you dearly hope were fake– were sewn on. On its side, the headband tied into a large neat bow. The bow's tail was long, draping over the androids collar and shoulder like a scarf with gold stitches like hearts.
And that's just his head band. You haven't even gotten to his gold large earrings, his gold choker, gold so much on him or the white henna so carefully painted, stark against his skin. This android looked expensive and ornate, this…hm…
"Where is it," you murmur.
You peer down at the information plate next to the android. Kalim Al-Asim Unit. Oh, this was one of the legacies then. Looking up at him, he seemed to be as tall as the Riddle and Epel Units- short statured and wiry build. Unlike the fair skinned androids, you look back to the other and see he too like Kalim were darker skinned, a warm rich brown tone Kalim had compared to the other.
Looking over at Kalim, you noticed he seemed more…more…softer somehow. Where the other units do appear human and well crafted, but the Kalim Unit had this warmer feeling, more friendly which is weird seeing he is an android. More sweeter, the neutral set of his mouth curls at his lip. The shape of his eyes would be kind if you could see them open, you weren't much for eye contact but at this point you had the need to peer into them. The dark brown eyeshadow even brought out the shape of his eyes.
In the sunlight he glitters with his gold.
Breathing, you leaned back and waited for the Owner to start talking.
And waited.
And waited some more that you wondered where she went.
Taking a glance around you haven't yet heard the Owner say anything about the Kalim Unit. Glancing back again you see her look adoring the taller android standing in his case behind the curtains shade.
Oh right, the Owners bias.
'A real big fan then', You think as you come closer to it.
Taller, and much sharper features than Kalim's soft looks, the plate name read Jamil Viper Unit. His eye shadow is reddish in tone, and a mouth set firm. He was lean, with a muscular frame like that of a dancer with more definition in his arms. His clothes matched Kalims but a much shorter black vest with a hood than Kalim's longer tailed coat. And baggy black pants with red flames over their legs reminding you of your male cousin's obsession with flames on everything.
Snickering a bit, you look over at him and you have to give it to the Owner. He's beautiful in a more mysterious way. Where the Kalim Unit was warm and sweet, the Jamil Unit is more...cool like. His gold choker, and his dangling red gem earrings suit him, and are less ornate than Kalim's. Gold bangles and a snake like coil around his arm matching the gold tassels and bells in his hair.
And his hair, no wonder the Owner went on and on about it. Long black and silky, half the side of his hair was done in long braids that tied into a low ponytail and over his shoulders. His hair was longer than the Leona Unit's and much more sleek too.
Looking back to Kalim and then to Jamil, you compare how they were like night and day. More so than the other dorms. You felt a little bad comparing them but out of the other androids they were the only ones of their dorm.
Engrossed with your thoughts you didn't hear the familiar clicks of heels.
"Gorgeous right?" Came the voice in your ear.
Screeching you turn to the Owner with your hands thrown up ready to throw hands
"Stop that! I thought you were still drooling over the Viper Unit," you huffed.
"I finished!" The Owner admittedly easily, she looks over to you through her pink mask, her eyes round yellow dots,"So how do you like them?"
"Well I don't know anything about them yet," You tell her," You haven't even said a single word about them!"
The Owner looked at you blankly until she slapped her cheek in shock.
"Oh dear! Where did my mind go! Right, right, come with me!" The Owner heels click-click on the tiles back to Kalim with her hand slapping the glass.
"This cutie here comes from Al-Asim legacy, as I had said before, those androids tend to be more flashy and more financial oriented from saving and to investments, quite the money makers but please let it be known we here at Raven Works work tirelessly to make sure those are up to date," She said in a matter of fact tone, she leans close to you," however what makes them more famous as they are quite the grand party throwers around. If you hate the idea of creating one then leave it to your Kalim Unit, quite the ball of sunshine."
The Owner sounded fond of Kalim's android and tapped the glass more gently. Unlike you, she had her gloves on and winex at hand so she can touch as she likes. She then adds,"However with the Kalim unit, is more companion than planner if I'm honest. Quite the social butterfly like our Cater Unit."
However there was something that was bugging you."Isn't there a family like that in the Scalding Sands, Al-Asim's? I heard they're pretty rich, like real real rich."
You weren't even joking they could buy out islands and countries and still will never make a dent. Rich enough it would make anyone sick. The posts on Magicam from some particular members of such an elite family would make you weep as you open your bills for the month.
The Owner hums and makes a sort of noise that reminds you of a cat being forced against its will.
"Yes actually, however due to the android being simply an ... .inspiration, there is no connection to that of the Al-Asim’s. As are all of our Units, inspirations of past figures like our Great Seven. Anything that reminds of such is simply a likeness and not truly that person based on," the Owner answers in a tone that is rehearsed and nothing like her bubbly voice, oddly it sounds rather masculine.
Not that you were going to point it out.
"Riiight," you drawl, and change the subject by nodding to the Viper Unit," so uh what about him?"
The light in the Owner's eyes returns tenfold as she giggles and holds her cheeks. With a quick click of her heels, the faint noise of keys, the Owner claps the sides of the unit’s case with a loud squeal,” So this guy! This guy right here! One of our best bodyguards around!”
“Body guard?” You parroted, eyes wide as you look at the resting unit,”I thought all androids are like that?”
“Sadly, that’s not the case for most androids, while many are certified for human companionship and health, many are not made for the purpose of guarding or fighting. While it is a courtesy to all, your androids will protect you in extreme circumstances. Few androids have been certified for such positions such as the Rook Unit, the Leech Units, and our Jamil Unit here.”
Her white gloves touch over the glass again, a shimmer of magic gloss over the android,” As you can see, this unit is well guarded from theft as it is a very valuable unit. Not only does it have a guarding mode, but as well as a caretaker. Ever need a gorgeous house husband? Look no further, the Jamil Unit is the best around!”
“Best and expensive too,” You mutter.
“Exactly!” The Owner nods,” Well my dear customer this ends our tour, now if there is any android you have interest in-”
Whoa! You shake your head quickly at the Owner, shake your hands at her and you say,” Wait, I heard there are two more floors here! Can’t we see the other androids? You can’t just try to sell me a unit if you haven’t shown the others!”
No way at this point were you going to leave! There were two more fours and you knew that. Seeing so many units and the halls of the rooms, you didn’t want to leave yet. Not even if you had seen Vil, being so close to him sate your desire for now for the android, but the rest. The rest you want to see…
The Owner hums and touches her chin tapping it with her gloves in thought,”I don’t know if I can. My Boss would be so–”
‘Wait she isn’t the Owner?’ You were surprised but shook your head. Focus!
“But I want to see the others! Of course I be…uhhh….willing to take a loan,” You gritted the last words out with some pain.
The manager, downgraded from her reveal, still hesitates.
Then out of nowhere a loud gracious caw came from everywhere and nowhere. Boisterous and loud, dripping with a tone that triggers your past life.
“Dear precious customer! We at Raven Works would be so proud to make sure you are financially ready to take an android home today!” A loud bang and dark feathers in a whirl snap at the air, your arms holding up to shield your face as the air dies down. You slowly open your eyes, your hair a mess, taking in the sight before you a tall pale man dressed in a long dark feathered cloak. His dark wavy hair touches his jaw, his pointed low ears show his fae blood. The clack of his cane against the tiles, a bundle of mirrors on his dark slacks and even his dark top hat. But what brought you to him was his dotted yellow eyes peeking down at you from behind his long beaked mask.
You peeked over to the manager and saw she had bowed lowly to him. Her hands pressed down on her skirts as her hair threatened to topple out of its bun.
“Master Crowley, may I say how handsome you loo—oo…k,” her voice dulls and she stays like that still.
“H-Hey!” Concerned, you touched the manager’s back but immediately drew back your mouth gaping. Her body! It was hard as steel! Even the soft cloth of her dress didn’t hide the undeniable steel beneath it.
“Well! Well Customer! You seem to have gotten acquainted with our dear little manager unit,” The man dubbed Crowley, caws in delight his nails were decorated with golden talons as he brushes the fake hair of the manager fondly,”One of our earliest androids now retired. Quite the lively one but rest assured our newer lines are more warm! Life-like and as obedient as they could be!”
Your brows furrow as you look at your previous tour guide,”Uh, is…is she going to turn on again?”
“Hm? Oh yes, yes,” He waves his hand casually at the manager as he now turns to you with a delighted look,”Now I hear you want to see our newer lines! I’d be glad to show it to such a willing and dedicated owner such as yourself!”
He strides by you, not waiting for you to catch up as he leads out of Scarabia’s grand case room. You jogged after him, as he talked and talked about loans and interest rates and how long it would be for approval and of course choosing and delivery. You leave behind the grand room, and leave the androids behind.
#twst android au#android au#twisted wonderland#jamil x reader#Jamil Viper#twst jamil#kalim al asim#twst kalim x reader#Dire Crowley#reader insert#twisted wonderland au#twst
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HELLOOOO sorry I haven’t been active much!!!
But I just saw your yandere circus and OOOOOO.
I got ideas…
Clown yans with apprentice clown darling who just recently joined: She is new so she’s steadily trying to figure out what the main part of her act is going to be. The clowns use this as a chance to get her to be apart of their act to have her all to themselves. Here’s the fun part. Each clown has a unique act that ties into all of the others. So constantly they are stealing her away from each other to get her to work on their act, but all Darling sees is them being sweet enough to help her out. In reality they are at each other’s throats fighting over her attention. Now the question is… Who will she choose?
Ringmaster Yan with a darling who has applied to take care of the animals that are apart of the circus: His love(obsession) for her happened when he went to her tent to check to see how she was doing on her first day, and he so happened to walk in on her caring for a female elephant and her child. In that second he froze and it felt like his heart skipped over itself. From that point on he would constantly call her over to his tent from the pretense that an animal needed to be checked on while he supervised. This was so he could have her all to himself away from all the other members of the circus.
Twin tight rope walker yans with a contortionist darling: The twins from birth have always been inseparable. They shared everything. Clothes, hair styles, speech patterns, etc. If you saw one you could guarantee you would see the other not far behind. That is the main reason as to why their act was so special. They could not speak a word to each other before a show and do tricks flawlessly. It’s just how well they know each other. One day a new comer shows up and immediately they both are in awe. After their act from behind the curtains they see contortionist Darling move her body in ways they thought impossible. She could balance three bowling pins one on top of the other on the balls of her foot all the while bent backwards. She would flip and turn, and throughout her entire act the crowd was in awe. She made the children laugh and made gasps sound throughout the audience when she did something that many deemed impossible. After the Twins got through watching her act that moment they both knew something. They had to have her all to themselves, and they weren’t too keen on sharing her either…
Name Ideas:
Clowns: Chuckles, Whimsy, Pipo, Pips, Patches, Tot, Binks, Dimitri, Alphie, Artie, Chester, Davey, Edwin.
Ringmaster: Everett, Gabriel, Julius, Titus, Imre, Sebastian, Alexander, Edmund, Alister, Callum, Liam.
Tight rope walkers: Noah and Nathaniel, Toby and Thomas, Leo and Lucas, Finley and Freddie, Hugh and Hugo, Abel and Ave, Jasper and Finn, Benjamin and Elijah, Ash and Heath, Atlas and Adonis.
Sorry if this is too long!! I hope you’re having an amazing day/night!!! Keep up the amazing work!!!!!
YOUR IDEAS ARE SO YUMMY WHAT
Like a band of clowns (Sunday, Artie, Chuckles, and Alphie) who joined the circus to put their unique violent skills into something helpful, their act is intricate, involving everything from slapstick comedy to knife throwing. Poor darling doesn't fit in, they're clumsy and oh so inexperienced.
The clowns, of course, offer to help their new apprentice vying for their attention in the process. Darling is all merry, happy that their mentors are all trying to get their act to fit into the show. Meanwhile, the clowns are giving each other nasty glares behind their back.
Or the Ringmaster, Edmund, who simply can't do it all. He's in charge of everything: animal care, cleaning, organizing shows. He just can't do it anymore. With one of his best elephants about to give birth and his show growing in popularity, he needs help.
He puts out an ad, asking for workers who were willing to travel with the circus to help out. Darling answers the advertisement, applying for the animal handling position. They were clumsy and a bit skittish, but beggars can't be choosers. He hired them up front, and their work began quickly. He avoided them for the first several weeks, until they're late bringing out the animals, and he went to search for them. Finding them in the elephant's trailer, he watched them help the newborn nurse, and a switch in him flipped. Something about the care that they gave the creature, the gentleness with which they handled her, it enraptured him.
He began calling them to check on certain animals, even when check ups or grooming was unnecessary. He just wanted to see them so desperately and get them away from prying eyes.
Or the tightrope walkers, Toby and Thomas, who were used to sharing, ever since they were young they would share toys, clothes, snacks, they even shared a bedroom until they were teenagers.
It was only natural that they share the pretty new performer as well. They're mesmerized by the way that they can move, flipping and twisting into unnatural positions.
The two made a silent agreement on their first night with the circus. The twins would share them, like they shared everything else. They belonged to the twins, even if they didn't know it.
#☆..puppy writes !!#☆..the circus#yandere x reader#☆..darling amelia <3#yandere oc#yandere ocs#yandere oc x reader
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Heya! Sorry for the random message but I was looking through the bunad tags on tumblr and saw your post on fantastistakk? (I hope I’m spelling that right!!) i was wondering if you had any good resources on learning more about them or could share any more information on them! I’ve always loved norwegian bunads and I’d like to depict them + reference them more in art/writing but with further fantasy themes (hence the even greater fascination with fantastistakk) and have worried about coming across as ignorant when the last thing I want to do is do these wonderful dresses and their history a disservice! (I additionally ask just because when I look up fantastistakk specifically I get a lot of results in norwegian which is fine I just don’t want to end up with inaccurate info putting it through a rough translator online so i thought I’d ask!)
Thank you so much!
Hi and thanks for the ask! Please don't apologize I love talking bunad and fantasistakk :D
I really wish I could paste in a link to the Definitive Guide to Fantasistakk (English Edition), but unfortunately no such thing exists.
Mainly because this is what I would call a Folk Fashion Movement, in the sense that there is no big fashion house or designer* behind it, it consists of regular people digging up their mothers' sewing machines and having fun with learning traditional techniques in a new way. The closest thing you can get to valuable literary resources would be people's personal blog posts and the occasional news article, but they're all written in Norwegian, like you discovered. And while I get that machine translation can be awful, it wouldn't be the end of the world if you used it to research this topic, since most of the time the explaination of a fantasistakk essentially boils down to "I made it like this because I think it looks cool". (*there are a couple of notable fashion houses that do fantasi-stakk, like Eva Lie and Embla Bunader, and while they contribute to the trend, they don't control or own the movement.)
There are several ideals tied to the fantasi-stakk trend, so the reason someone might choose a fantasistakk instead of a bunad can vary. Some people make theirs from thrifted curtains because they're saving up for a "proper" bunad later, while others commision a carefully researched and deeply personal subversive tailor made piece of art based on their local dress tradition. In any case, the fantasistakk wouldn't exist without the traditional bunads, so you might want to look into those as well.
Luckily, you can find a lot of international resources on the traditional bunads, because they've been around for longer and one of the core ideas behind the bunad-movement was to document local dress traditions to prevent them from fading into obscurity. If you want to learn about the history of bunads I highly recommend this video by Kristine Vike, that takes a critical look at the idea of the Bunad. It really digs into the historical and political context that the bunad has and the history of how it evolved into what we know it as today.
youtube
I cannot overstate how well researched this video is, and also if you want to learn more about Norwegian dress history and textile arts in general, go check out her channel, it's a real gold mine.
But if you want resources for art inspiration, I'd encourage you to look up specific bunads to base your fantasistakk on. Each bunad has its roots in a geographical area and is made with the traditional techniques unique to that place. Some areas have more variety than others, but there's enough to write several books on each and every bunad.
Here's a handy list of pretty much every bunad (with a few Sami gakti as well), sorted by province:
Very few of the costumes in this list have English wikipedia articles attatched, but some of them have Norwegian articles, and I'm sure every single one of them has plenty of pictures to use for reference (pro tip: instagram hashtags. people love to tag their bunad pics with the name of their dress). And if you find one you're interested in, but you can't find any accessible information, I'd be happy to help you learn more about it :D
when it comes to being respectful and coming up with fantasistakk-designs, I'd say try not to worry too much about it, and just have fun! some people get mad when they see a teenager using a "non-traditional" shirt with their family heirloom vest, while others applaud them for showing both their heritage and their individuality. Doing your research is important if you want to depict historical dresses (and to give you more ideas of what a bunad can look like), but in contemporary norwegian culture a lot of us are mixing it up with modern garments and borrowing from other cultures and just making clothes we want to wear (just like our ancestors used to do before the standardized national costumes got popularized)
And on that note, I'll wrap this up with the banner picture from Embla Bunader's home page for inspiration:
(btw I'm officially rescinding the statement I made in the fantasistakk post, that Embla is "less extravagant", cause this past year they've Really been Cooking)
I wasn't really sure where to even begin answering this ask, since it's such a massive topic, but I hope I at least some of this information is useful :P
#vitpost#bunad#fantasistakk#Maybe later I'll do a breakdown of popular fantasistakk silhouettes and what regional tradition they're inspired by?
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What is Silk Fabric
Silk is a natural fiber produced by silkworms. It has been prized for centuries for its softness, durability, and luxurious sheen. Originating in ancient China, silk has become one of the most desirable fabrics across the globe. The rich texture, combined with its shimmering appearance, makes it a top choice for high-end fashion and other textiles.
Unique Properties of Silk
Silk has a range of properties that set it apart from other natural fibers. First, it is incredibly strong. Despite its delicate feel, silk is one of the most durable natural fibers. It’s lightweight and breathable, making it ideal for warm climates, but it also offers natural insulation, helping to regulate body temperature. Additionally, silk is hypoallergenic, which makes it a popular option for individuals with sensitive skin. Its moisture-wicking properties keep skin dry and cool, further adding to its appeal.
Different Types of Silk
There are several types of silk fabric , each with unique characteristics based on the source and production method. The most common type is mulberry silk, produced by the Bombyx mori silkworm. Mulberry silk is the most refined and highly prized due to its uniform texture and strength. Other types include Tasar silk, which has a more textured, wild appearance, and Eri silk, known for its warmth and softness. Each type of silk offers different benefits, allowing for diverse uses across various industries.
The Process of Making Silk
The silk-making process, also known as sericulture, begins with the cultivation of silkworms. These insects feed primarily on mulberry leaves. Once the silkworms have spun their cocoons, the silk fibers are carefully unwound and processed. The process involves extracting long, continuous strands of silk from the cocoons, which are then twisted together to create threads. These threads are spun into yarn and woven into fabric. The entire process is meticulous and labor-intensive, which adds to the exclusivity and high cost of silk products.
Uses of Silk
Silk is highly versatile and finds application in several industries. In fashion, it is commonly used for luxury garments like evening gowns, ties, scarves, and lingerie. It’s favored for its natural drape and ability to take on vibrant dyes, making it perfect for high-end fashion. Beyond clothing, silk is widely used in home furnishings such as bedding, curtains, and upholstery. Its ability to regulate temperature makes it a favored choice for premium bed sheets. Additionally, due to its biocompatibility, silk is used in medical applications, such as sutures, and even in the beauty industry for skincare products.
Ethical Concerns and Sustainable Alternatives
Traditional silk production involves boiling silkworm cocoons, which raises ethical issues concerning animal welfare. This has led to the development of sustainable alternatives like Ahimsa silk , also known as “peace silk.” In Ahimsa silk production, silkworms are allowed to mature and emerge from their cocoons before the fibers are harvested. This cruelty-free alternative offers the same luxurious qualities of traditional silk while addressing ethical concerns.
The Future of Silk
With a growing focus on sustainability and ethical production, the silk industry is evolving. Innovations in silk farming, recycling, and the production of alternative, bio-based fibers are helping reduce environmental impact. Researchers are also working on synthetic silks that mimic the properties of natural silk, offering cruelty-free and eco-friendly options. Here you can read a detailed article on Silk Fabric.
Conclusion
Silk continues to be one of the most cherished fabrics, combining beauty, durability, and versatility. Whether in fashion, home décor, or medical uses, its unique properties make it a valuable material. While traditional production methods have raised ethical concerns, advancements in technology and sustainable practices are shaping the future of silk.
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Okay I wanna say sth so in the new episode …SPOILER:
So Betty actually wins the pageant according to the judges but Alice reads and crowns Ethel winner instead because she thinks the opportunities will help someone like Ethel. So I was thinking about the potential endgame ships in relation, now a lot of people aren’t understanding Beronica but I think in RAS’ mindset giving endgames for example to ships like Beronica and jarchie or Reggie and Archie would help queer representation in different ways than Choni and Kevin etc. As they’re the core 4 of the main characters - usually they would not be queer in any other show leading from friendship to romance. Usually in shows ships like these would never be endgame. Or even have a chance. But Beronica happening has changed this. I made a joking post before about how in most shows barchie would be endgame but in riverdale anything is possible. But I think there’s more meta to this after this pageant episode. Idk just musing..
Thinking this is inspired how Archie comics wouldn’t let him make Archie gay in his musical and how that influence the comics plot about censorship and then talking about the enemy is us not the red scare/communism etc the enemy is within wholesome, conforming America critique. Yes this is the milkman but it’s what riverdale is. It’s poking about this All American Archie mindset. It always has been. They’re pulling the curtain and telling you what riverdale is this season and that’s how it ties to the rest of the series. This then means they used the main ships to critique their tropes and what they mean. This concept of Alice giving Ethel the pageant win made me think how RAS might view th queer ships like jarchie or rarchie and Beronica. How normally they wouldn’t have a chance but then giving them a chance to be endgame is not something queer community is used to. For me it’s something different than the representation found in choni and the ships with Kevin. Which choni is amazing! Watch for them because they’re one of the best ships out there btw!! But Beronica and jarchie - these characters are the main icons of Archie comics and to end that classic love triangle in the queer way would be unique.
#riverdale#spoiler#spoilers#riverdale spoilers#riverdale spoiler#jarchie#beronica#Rarchie#reggiearchie#archiereggie#archreggie
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|| Min-Ji & Duncan ||
It had been perhaps less than a week since a new place had opened up in Opulence, a strange and peculiar house which outwardly may not look like much more than a slightly out of place family home on the very border between Bowden and Dillon. Built before Bowden had been given all of its rows of townhouses in a neat line along its main street, the house seemed to stick out like a stubborn nail refusing to be hammered in, surrounded by its own patch of green where predominantly asphalt and bricks ruled. It broke the overall concept of the neighborhood but added significantly to its quaintness.
Right by the wrought iron gate which leads into the now fully restored from its previous weed-overgrown state of neglect front garden was an inconspicuous but unmistakable once noticed blue sign, hand-painted and weather-worn, simply informing ‘Antiquities’. Finding out what that meant exactly was only possible by asking the one and only person running and managing it, who was very often away or unreachable. But, at the very least, the place no longer looked abandoned and would never be locked again, at least not until its single resident and owner decided to mysteriously vanish without a trace once more, just like he did almost fifty years ago. How he got it back to looking livable in within a week with basically no noise complaints or any curiosity raised by the neighbors was yet another mystery…
Once through ‘Out of the Attic’s’ door though, a not entirely expected magic within awaited. There was not a single spot, place or corner in the shop that wasn’t intricate, old, peculiar or uniquely different. Yet everything came together in one perfectly arranged harmony, mixed styles, periods, materials and uses of every single piece of furniture and decoration somehow coexisting in a flurry of blended colors pleasing to both the eye and the soul. Nothing was out of place, nothing could be pointed out as something that did not belong, even if by all rights it could be called out as in one way or another mismatched. Medallion Baluch rugs were spread under early 19th century mahogany armchairs, art nouveau blended into rococo - you could sit in William and Mary style, lounge in Queen Anne, go through the drawers of Chippendale cabinets, write on Empire desks, draw French Restoration curtains, go through a hallway of gothic revival and then end up in an Elizabethan room only to decide to cook in a kitchen that appeared like it was brought not only from another time but from a whole other side of the world too.
A time machine glitched and spat ‘Out of the Attic’ out and now it was there, in Opulence, a little rusted, a little chipped, but very antique and vintage.
Maybe just like its owner, but one could never tell when it came to him. In one of the back rooms, he sat over a workbench, bent over a very purposefully directed light source which, even this early in the afternoon, was much needed to carefully and without any slip-ups bring a rough detail brush upon a tiny, rusted silver spoon in much need of a proper cleanup. Just a small first step on a long journey to its restoration to former shine and glory, requiring patience and a loving eye for details. A tinkle of a small bell above interrupted his peaceful focus, connected through the house by a tightened wire tied to the front door, a completely electricity-free motion sensor alerting him that someone had made an entrance. At no rush whatsoever, Duncan slipped off an old piece of magnifying head gear, too complicated to be called glasses. Everything was put down carefully before he rose and made his way to the front, to check who’d one of his first visitors since his arrival could be.
@min-ji-min
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SPN Musical Theater Bang Masterlist
As the curtain falls on this year's Musical Theater Bang, let's have one more ovation for the amazing writers and artists who contributed! You can revisit their original cast recordings below.
Truth, Beauty, Free Will, Love by @Tossukka with art by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes Summary: Dean is a courtesan and the star of a nightclub longing for a normal life and a chance to find his brother again. Castiel is an angel living in the shadow of his siblings, wanting a chance to make his own choices for once. One night their paths cross. This story is about truth, beauty, freedom but above all things, this story is about love.
Phantom of Midsommer's Nightmare by @Kyra_Kiara_Elizabeth_Mai with art by @zybynarx Summary: During some downtime at the bunker: Cas is worried about Dean it has only been a few months since Dean was cured, the mark is draining him everyone can see it, and desperation leads him to a long shot. Sam is using this time for research, his own personal interest. Until Donna calls him with a conundrum. Dean is trying to lay low, relax, and not let everyones worry get to him.
Sugar, Butter, Flour by @raimykeller with art by @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes Summary: Dean works in a diner in a small North Carolina town and is a genius at creating unique pie recipes. Without any family of his own, he has carved a space for himself in a little group of loving misfits who work with him at the diner. When fellow waitress – and Dean’s best friend – Kelly finds out she is pregnant by her deadbeat husband, and their diner loses one of their line cooks, Dean’s quiet, but boring life is changed instantly. Join Dean as he falls in love, protects his found family, and bakes a lot of pie.
As One In Love of Chess by @Raven_Fuchs with art by @lotrspnfangirl Summary: Drama student Dean Winchester has a lot riding on the university’s annual big musical. Not only is his graduate thesis tied up in the production but if he’s cast as one of the leads it will be his graduate showcase as well. The choice to produce selections from the musical “Chess” means that there really are only two male lead roles up for grabs. He never could have imagined how his life could change when he meets a blue-eyed music grad student. While the characters on stage are unlucky in love, can the actors avoid a similar fate?
Oh He's a Curious Cat by @preetkiran1016 with art by @hexentaenzerin Summary: It’s Dean’s last year at Juilliard’s school for the performing arts. He’s almost done, ready to jump into the acting world- when Professor Balthazar takes a year sabbatical. Castiel Novak filling in as his substitute makes surviving the year a hell of a lot more difficult, Dean’ll tell you that much. Between learning to dance in a lycra cat suit, dealing with his friends and their constant teasing, and Novak staring daggers at him every second- Dean’s not sure he’ll make it.
Three Little Pigs by @hectatess with art by @lotrspnfangirl Summary: What happens when the fairytale ends? When the curtains are closed, what becomes of the characters? Well, those that survive lead their lives. And sometimes those lives collide again. Like with one little pig and a big, well, only slightly larger than average, but still bad wolf. And their offspring…
Oh, Lover (I'll Cover You) by @lotrspnfangirl with art by @deancodedcastielenby Summary: Nearing Christmas, when the city was frozen, a group of friends found the warmth they were missing.
My Unfortunate Protuberance by @whaddyameanno with art by @aleriya-darling Summary: Dean and Cas have been in a long-distance relationship for two years, and Cas always goes to Dean’s opening nights, knowing just how important it is to his boyfriend. When plans fall through and he isn’t able to go anymore, Dean gets upset. Will this spell the end of their relationship? Or will Cas find a way to make it to the show and make it up to Dean?
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Pulse
I don't watch a lot of horror movies and most of the ones I do are tied to some awful evil or crime made incarnate as a monster. Sadako, Chuckie, and Jason are all examples of horror I'm used to. Therefore, the existential horror, the epidemic of loneliness, presented in Pulse was incredibly thought-provoking and closer to home in a way that makes it more terrifying. I admit I don't think I was touched by this movie as other people would be because of some unique experiences. Despite that, I genuinely appreciate how the film sensitively depicted the crushing despair and resignation that loneliness causes. Loneliness is both the creeping sense of total despair and fear of an inevitable future (whether it's true or not) and the depressing resignation - as if the world has just ended - as you decide it's totally hopeless. When I'm thinking about this film, I adore it.
Initially, I thought the screens depicting people wandering around their rooms or killing themselves were "ghosts" of people or memories they left behind that continue to haunt the living. This includes both the people who care about them and the strangers stumbling upon these relics of dead people. It's like seeing old forum posts from years and years ago and wondering where those people might be or if they're even alive. To see these screens, along with the "help me" plea, seemed just like cries for help and I don't think I'm entirely wrong. Everyone in the film, the best example being Harue who seems to have scrawled "help me" over the walls of her bedroom, want to be helped from their loneliness. They always fail to feel connected to someone no matter how much time they spend with someone else in person.
This failure to connect with people is obviously tied to technology in some way. In the beginning, Taguchi seems locked to his room. The mood change is instant when we move from what is a cloudy day outside, full of people and plants, to his room that seems like it's always night in there. The curtains are drawn, the lamps are on, and there's a coffee cup on the table that implies he's been living all-nighters every day and every night. Initially, I thought the film might have shown its hand too early: People seek the internet in order to connect with people because they can't reach people in the real world. It turns out that these connections are just as fake and in despair we flee the world of the living. Therefore, the true answer is that we have to grit our teeth and stay connected to the real world, you know? After all, you can't ever reach anyone by phone either and even if they answer, they can only ask for help without trying hard to receive it or they just shrug you off. Just like real life. Do you remember the boss of the flower shop saying something similar? Friends say wonderful things during the good times, with the best of intentions, and it only hurts the people they're trying to reach. That is, the message seemed exceedingly pessimistic not only about one's own effort to stay connected but also about technology. I'm… still not THAT wrong in the end.
That's why I feel conflicted about the possible reason for the disappearances was "ah, you see… the other realm is just overflowing with ghosts. It can't be helped, you know?" Not only does it sound like a conspiracy theory but it's one that turns out true as people disappear the world over. An actual apocalypse caused by ghosts! However, it does seem to tie in neatly with the idea that through technology, people (or in this case ghosts) take advantage of other people's loneliness. It's a common story. Catfishing is just one example.
About the real world crisis, the segment in which a TV is naming all the people who have disappeared hit me the most. Not only young or middle-aged people but the elderly and kids are named too. No matter the age or reason or past, loneliness can affect anyone. Loneliness is an epidemic. Of course I don't disagree. Just saying "we all die alone" is a terrifying statement generally and there are people who dream of dying surrounded by loving family. Not just loneliness but death too is a topic people feel strongly about.
That seems to be the core of Kawashima's narrative. Throughout the film, he refused to confront death to the point that he blabbered on about being able to live forever once people make a miracle drug to Harue. He doesn't want to think about death he says repeatedly. Then he is forced to confront death in that forbidden room, made to hear Death speak to him, and to touch it physically. That is, death comes for us all and we have no choice but to confront it. If we are lonely in life, we are lonely in death, Kawashima only got so far because he never seriously considered death and always ran away from it. I have to be honest. I think everyone in this film is a bit cowardly. No one confronted death properly but instead focused on their despair and fear. Depression is a serious issue and whether you're depressed or not it takes serious dedication to remain optimistic and dedicated to enjoying your life. It shouldn't matter if you're alone or not, if you're lonely or not, because life isn't just people. However, I admit that there is no one-size-fits-all, "proper" way to confront such an amorphous, unknowable thing. Anyone might say the world over just hit its limit and couldn't take the loneliness anymore.
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FORGOTTEN LIVES: Christopher Baker
Before we begin! Remember to get a copy of the Forgotten Lives Omnibus at this link! I believe pre-orders are open until the 1st of September, you may miss your chance to get this book - don't miss out!
It's no secret to any Classic Who fan (or even modern Who) that the BBC failed to maintain classic stories, with a many missing episodes reanimated to fill these spaces and a majority of Who's third season completely lost to time. Of course, without Doctor Who at home, fans had to find other places to have the Doctor's adventures at home. In 1964 we'd see the first Doctor Who novel released, alongside something much more important to today's discussion - the TV Comics.
I originally made the claim that Christopher Baker (1937-2011) had no proper ties to the show, but I was actually wrong about that. While he wasn't tied down by Doctor Who like other Morbius Doctors were, he was a Production Assistant at the BBC during the 70s. He also went on as a director for shows like Emmerdale and Star Cops later in his career during the 80s.
While the Doctor himself is certainly interesting, I think it's more interesting to discuss his companions for this story. Rather than running into a companion surrogate on an adventure, the Doctor travels with his two children - Jilly and Cedric. As one of the few Doctors in this book with a definitive final story, we get to experience the lives of Jilly and Cedric fully as they travel with their father through time and space.
We've never had the opportunity to meet the children of the Doctor before, so this presents a unique chance to learn more about the Doctor without pulling away the curtain. The idea of the Doctor travelling with two of his children may feel familiar to fans of the TV comics, which introduced us to John and Gillian Who, two other grandchildren - the TV Comics were unable to use the television companions for a time, so instead had the 1st and 2nd Doctors travel with two other grandchildren on adventures. Getting to see more of the paternal side of the Doctor was refreshing, a side that I'd argue we haven't seen since Hartnell's care for characters like Susan, Vicki and Dodo. Cedric and Jilly present a fun dynamic with their Doctor, where he can try and raise them to follow some of the lessons he's taught himself while they offer him a relationship he rarely has the luxury for.
There is other notable things about this Doctor that I personally love. Have you ever read a classic sci-fi from 50, 70, 90 years ago only to find it makes some radical prediction of the future that never came true? This story does much the same thing, with the astonishing year where man has managed to make it to Venus being 1975. For a story written as if it came out in the 40s, 1975 helps it both fit with the fiction of the time's improper predictions while also... honestly just being fun.
The design for the Doctor stands out due to his Pilgrim aesthetic, a nice way of making him seem more anachronistic than even some later Doctors after him. It also nicely contrasts with the design for his TARDIS - the metal pillars give it a feeling reminiscent of the 8th Doctor's TARDIS, while the overall design feels like a cathedral. Considering the subject matter of his first story, The Cross of Venus, it feels apt.
I'm going to be more candid than usual, because the Third Doctor has a personal importance to me. I want to be a writer someday and I'd wanted to write for Doctor Who since I was a kid, but I had fallen out of my passion for both since starting uni and struggling with mental health for a while. Last year, before my second year of uni started, I chose to pick up Forgotten Lives 1&2 because the money went to a good cause (please support Alzheimer's Research). All of the stories in these books helped pull my love of Doctor Who back out, even prompting me to bring out all my old DVDs and start collecting again. As much as my renewed love for the show is thanks to Obverse Books and everyone else involved, my love for writing and storytelling was brought about by "The First Englishmen". It's hard for me to properly explain, but it was @pluralzalpha's story that specifically made me write again, telling the first proper story I had since I was in school. So as dopey as it is, I have immense gratitude both to him and everyone else who worked on Forgotten Lives for getting me to create again. And it's why, so long as pre-orders are open, I'll insist anybody with interest should pick up this book. Support the release and raise money to fight Alzheimers.
For more insight into the creative process of every author that worked on Forgotten Lives, you can go to @forgottenlivesobverse and find interviews from everyone involved across the books. If you're looking for insight on how the outfits were designed, you can go to Paul Hanley's Patreon and find what went into designing each Doctor.
Here's what to expect from the Third Doctor's adventures, travelling time and space with his son and daughter. Expect to see a saboteur on Venus and covered up history.
THE CROSS OF VENUS by Andrew Hickey
THE FIRST ENGLISHMAN by Daniel Tessier
RETROGENESIS (Part Three) by Philip Purser-Hallard
SWAN SONG by Andrew Hickey
Our next Doctor will be the Philip Hinchcliffe Doctor, who shows how art can influence the writing. Until then, I wish you all well and don't be scared to create something.
#forgotten lives obverse#forgotten lives#obverse books#doctor who#the brain of morbius#christopher baker
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