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jarofstyles · 5 months

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Illicit- II

Check out our Patreon- part 3 and 4 are up there now!

Warnings- Cheating (H with Y/N), asshole H lol

WC- 3.1k

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“How was the event yesterday?” Niall asked, leaning back in his camping chair.

The lake view was stunning. Nestled in the foothills of the mountain range, the lake town had always had charm. It was a true small town, despite the string of multi million dollar lake homes, and Harry had found it to be one of his favorite estates their family owned. That’s why he hosted an end of summer weekend there with his true friends. His small handful of trusted people and their significant others- and a few staff with iron clad NDA’s- were invited out to the lake house for the last hoorah of summer activities. Tubing, swimming in the lake or the pool, volleyball, bonfires, even fireworks that he hired out, all of it was being utilized before it couldn’t be anymore. It was similar each year, but this year had a new, important addition.

Y/N, his sweet little thing.

“Horrible.” Harry grunted, watching as Y/N and Zayn’s girlfriend Hannah combed the bush around the lake looking for wildflowers. “It’s never good. I despise those things, and the fact I have to go to save face makes it even more insufferable.” The events were so drab and dull. Sometimes, in his youth, he’d enjoy the food or the drinks. Winning something at auction. But now it was watered down with people who, quite frankly, didn’t deserve to be there. He could give to charities on his own- and he did- but un-fucking-fortunately, if he showed up then there would be more eyes on it. His presence was just as valuable as his money.

“Don’t blame ya for hating ‘em. As soon as I got out of them I felt better. But how was Katherine? She splattered you all over her instagram, said she got flowers from ya. Did you?” He knew the answers, obviously, but wanted the confirmation he all too easily got with the scoff and Harry’s head tipping back to finish his beer.

“Fuck no. I haven’t gotten her flowers since the first date. I left Y/N in my bed, arrived to the event late to get my ear chewed off about how rude it was and dragged around to be photographed even though I’d rather chop off a thumb.” He grunted. “Then I went home, Y/N was asleep so I packed and then… woke her up.” His face grew a slight smirk, remembering how he woke her up with his mouth between her thighs and flowers actually bought for her on the nightstand. He felt awful whenever he had to see Katherine and knew it wasn't something that Y/N liked either, so he wanted to make it up to her whenever he could. The fact that Katherine showed him off like a showpony and lied about flowers she had certainly got for herself was laughable but not at all surprising.

“It’s so odd to see you like… properly into a girl.” Niall admitted. “I have to admit, though, y’look actually happy. Weird as fuck to see you walk around with a smile after the scowls you’ve become famous for.” It really was. Y/N had exposed a softer, gentler side of Harry that hadn’t been seen before. Before Y/N he wouldn’t have been caught dead with a woman on his lap, and yet he pulled her into his lap whenever he got the chance. Even here. He didn’t give a fuck if his inner circle saw- no, he wanted them to. The need to show off the one girl he actually wanted was overwhelming at times.

“She’s different.” There was no use in denying how much he really loved Y/N. It was obvious, written all over his face when she was around or even mentioned. She’d taken the stiff iron walls of his heart and turned them into soft molten fluff for her to mold. There wasn’t much shame he had, except for having to hide her for a bit. “I just want this contract to be over so I can move it along. She’s halfway moved in but I want her there all the time. Just can’t have her fully there because… y’know.” Because Katherine liked to show up unannounced sometimes and demand attention. He never really did, sending her off with the excuse of work, but once he got serious with Y/N he had his locks changed and a lack of care that increased as the days went on.

Harry was an awful boyfriend to Katherine and he simply did not care. He hoped that she would come to her senses and break up with him but apparently, the perks of being attached to his name were too good to give up just because he was mean, didn’t give her attention or affection. He’d refused to kiss her besides the cheek and told her that he didn’t care if she got it somewhere else, but he was on a ‘sex ban.’. Ironic, considering he was the most thoroughly sexed he’d been in his life. Sometimes he felt a tad bit of guilt, just knowing how his mother would feel if she found out how awful he was to her- but she didn’t like the girl either!

He was desperate for this to end so he could introduce her to Y/N. The woman he was certain he was keeping for as long as she let him. Harry was a possessive man and intended on that being forever, but he cared about her too much to lock her into a secret engagement. She deserved to be able to show off and tell the world- and so did he.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you. It’s good there wasn’t an infidelity clause, he was dumb as fuck for that. It’s a shame cause she’s a pretty girl, could probably find some other new blood to stick to and make her money that way. But I get why she’s sticking to you. All those people wanting a slice of your empire must be fucking exhausting.” Niall was wealthy, his family going back a few generations short of Harry’s own, but it didn’t have the public notoriety that his did. He often wished that was the case for his legacy.

“Wish she would just have a real moment of clarity and realize no money is worth this, that she could be getting dick and designer bags and someone else to dote on her. Not me. Never will be me. But, in just a few months it’s not my problem and her arse will be on the curb whilst Y/N will go public with me.” He didn’t plan on waiting very long for that. Perhaps it would be in bad taste to only wait until a day after a public breakup but he would do it if Y/N didn’t have some weird guilt surrounding Katherine.

Their conversation was cut short by a call of his name, his beaming girl approaching with a basket of wildflowers in her hand. His heart stuttered, his scowl falling to build up a soft, fond smile. His arm opened and he patted his lap, motioning her to sit pretty on his thigh and drape her legs over him- which she easily did. Her breezy, cornflower blue dress hit just above her knees and the off the shoulder cut showed off a nice amount of skin. A necklace she had gotten from him, a sunflower pendant with an H etched into the back hung perfectly on her neck, glistening in the setting sun. The floppy sunhat looked fucking adorable on her, pushed back enough to ensure it didn’t hit Harry in the face.

“What have you got, my love?” He asked tenderly, hand folding on her thigh and tucking under the hem of her dress. An intimate hold, but they were in their own safe place. As soon as he went public with her, he was going to show the world just how much. HE wasn’t necessarily the public type, but he had no qualms with letting people see Y/N on his arm, draped in jewelry his money bought, on his yachts, in his businesses, with his ring, and hopefully, full of his child. He couldn’t think about the last one for too long without getting hard, though, so he reserved that for later.

“We got a little bouquet for the table for dinner. Love the flowers you got too, but it feels nice.” Her hand stroked through his ungelled hair, loving the curls they formed whenever he was unstyled. He left it like that specifically for her, and she took advantage of it. “My mum and I would do it every summer, we had that flower garden. Remember the photos?” Harry nodded, he did indeed. He would be building her her own whenever he could propose and they moved further out of the city. “Yeah, good! So, we got some and m’gonna go ask Ms.Greta if she’s got any vases. We’re eating outside tonight, yeah?”

“We are. Proper grill out. I think she does have some, I don’t remember offhand what we’ve got here but-” He squeezed her leg, letting his fingers press into the warm flesh. “Before y’go and do that, think you forgot something.” His expectant look was clear on his face. Y/N gasped, quickly remedying the situation as she curled her hand around his strong jaw and tilted it so she could connect their mouths for what she intended to be a chaste kiss. Harry had different intentions. Instead, he snuck his tongue into her mouth and used his hand to cradle the back of her neck, slightly damp with sweaty hair, keeping her to his mouth. He was never one to half ass, even when Niall began to fake gag.

“Alright, fucking christ. Swallow her whole, why don’t you!” Niall continued to make childish noises but Harry continued, ignoring his friend as he hummed against his girl’s mouth. He had few places he could actually do these sorts of things and he’d be damned if he let anyone tease him out of it. This was the woman he wanted more than anything, and he liked the tiny glimpses he got into their possible future.

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“I like this.” Y/N mumbled into his chest. The day had dwindled down and she was sitting on his lap in front of the fireplace in the master bedroom. Harry’s chest was bare as her cheek rested against the smooth expanse, the middle of it covered in a thin layer of hair. He’d started to let it grow since they’d begun to see one another when Y/N expressed how much she found it sexy, and Harry was one to please her when she said things like that. “Not having to hide. I can’t wait until you can be mine for everyone to see.” Her lips brushed his pec, pressing a chaste kiss there.

Guilt swarmed inside his stomach like a disturbed beehive, making him swallow down the lump in his throat. While he felt no guilt at all for the supposed infidelity towards Katherine, the guilt lied in having to suppress the most incredible relationship with Y/N. He knew she didn’t love feeling like a secret all the time, and while Harry had said he didn’t care if people found out, Y/N had to think of her own reputation. That was what had him ensuring he kept it under wraps. While people would just see him as yet another dumb, horny man? They’d see Y/N as a homewrecker, a slut, every bad name under the sun. Not to mention the online bullying she’d be subjected to by Katherine, her little group and all her naive fans.

He’d never cared about someone like this before. Yes, of course he loved his family and his friends, but this was a whole other level of care. It went bone deep. Y/N was the type of person you met once in a lifetime. The type you couldn’t let slip through your fingers because you really couldn’t. Y/N was everything and more and Harry was dedicated to keeping her as happy as possible, but the reality was that they had to hide just a bit longer.

“I know, my love.” He said quietly, trailing his fingers over the crown of her head. “It’s hard right now. I never anticipated meeting you or I never would have… Wouldn’t have taken the deal.” The words were murmured just for her, eyes searching her own to try and gauge her emotions. She didn’t seem particularly devastated, but there was still that undercurrent of sadness that made his chest twinge. “I know I’ve told you time and time again about how much I am obsessed with you, how you’re the woman I want… But I can’t wait either. You’ve not even a clue about how much I look forward to showing you off.”

While he had complained of Katherine doing so, it was a whole other ballgame when you truly adored the person and felt proud to be theirs.

“You do?” She peeped, eyes rounding as she peered up at him. Sometimes she was so fucking beautiful that it felt like a hit in the stomach. She was clear of makeup now, showing off her natural features. He loved seeing her in any capacity but this had to be his favorite. Private, intimate, bare. Her hair in two messy braids but still managed to have some strands in her face. Her lips were soft and plump, the overnight mask on them that she had tried to explain to him and he still had no clue what it did other than make his girl happy- his Y/N was his gift. He knew he didn’t deserve her but he never claimed to be a good person- He would keep her forever. Some could call him intransigent, but he wouldn’t argue.

“Of course I do. Look forward to everyone seeing you on my arm. I think it will be apparent that I’m pretty far gone. People will wonder what magic powers you possess.” He laughed through his nose, leaning in to kiss the side of her head. “You just bewitched me, sweet little thing. Had me in knots when you blocked me, y’know that?” His smile grew. “Never wanted to talk to someone so badly in my life.”

“From what I knew, you had an actual real girlfriend!” She defended adamantly. “And then you basically locked me into a room with you to explain yourself. Scared the shit out of me. Y’know, there were rumors that people thought you were some sort of mafia boss.” She snorted. “Kind of believed it for a bit. You’ve got the whole, tall, dark and handsome thing going on. Mysterious. Kind of a dick.” She yelped when he lightly pinched her side, erupting into a fit of giggles. “Hey! No. You’re a handsome asshole. And to your credit, that was the last time you were all weird with me. Once I believed you, you became a sweet little thing.” Her voice cooed as she reached up to pinch his cheek like a grandmother would, making him roll his eyes.

It was true, though. He’d met her and it hadn’t gone so well in the beginning. His reputation for being cold and callous to new people, to most, actually, didn’t help when his interest in her spiked. He remembered very clearly, watching with a drink in his hand as she laughed with some of the girls. Grinning wide and showing teeth, making his chest do the weird pitter patter it usually did now when he saw her, but the first time had shocked the hell out of him. He’d never had that sort of reaction to someone before. Sure, he found people hot and experienced lust, but it was the first time in his life he craved conversation. To be nosy. So he hunted her, cornered her like prey and had him picking her brain for a while. He’d been gaining momentum, touching her and getting her a drink , and she had been into it until someone whispered into her ear on the way back from the bathroom what he assumed was the information that he was ‘taken.’

So what? He had gone through drastic measures to convince her to see him again, even showing her the contract that was notarized.

“A mafia boss?” He snickered, raising a brow. “Not a chance. Though I appreciate you thinking I’ve got what it takes. No, unfortunately it’s just the multitude of legitimate businesses in my empire, my darling.” His smile grew warm, watching her return it. “Though, if that’s something you want to roleplay in bed, I’d not be opposed.”

“Of course you wouldn’t be, perv.” With a roll of the eyes she patted his chest. “Never met someone so dirty in my life. Energizer bunny must be a sponsor of your cock because I swear, even being older than me you’ve got more stamina.” It was the truth, but she didn’t grasp how it was just for her. He used to be satisfied with a fuck or two a week, he could go without it if he went to the gym. Being with Y/N changed him to an insatiable beast, but she was his willing accomplice.

“I don’t see you complaining when my cock is in your pretty cunt and you’re crying for me t’let you cum. Begging Daddy to let you cream all over my cock, because you tend to be a messy little girl. At least m’nice enough to let you.” He said with a straight face. There was no comment about how he could feel her clench on his thigh, but she already knew he could. His filthy mouth couldn’t be competed with and thankfully, Y/N had a thing for dirty talk.

“Alright- jesus.” Y/N whined, burying her face against his chest. “Don’t get me worked up now. I’m a little sore, someone took it out of me in the shower.” The grumbled words made him smirk, smugness and pride evident on his face. If she was really hurt she would let him know and he would grovel on his knees to make it better. “If you take it easy, I think you could have me in the morning. Wake me up with it.” A treat for the man, considering he adored watching her eyes peel open and a whimper sounding from her sleep swollen lips as he slipped in and out of her warm insides.

“Hm. I suppose that’s a fair deal.” He signed, acting resigned as he tugged her closer to him. “I’m lucky to have you, my minx. Always so good to me.” Even more than he deserved.

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anonymousewrites · 8 months

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One Hell of a Love (Book 1) Chapter One

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter One: One Hell of a Reunion

Summary: Sebastian comes across someone he hadn't seen in centuries.

“Remind me again why we’re at some silly Baroness’s funeral?” muttered Ciel tersely once they finally made it to the reception.

“Young Master, the Baroness Alma Ellington was a contributor to Funtom enterprises for many years,” said Sebastian. “It couldn’t go said by the nobility that the Phantomhives didn’t attend the funeral of such a generous woman.” He smirked.

Ciel tsked. “At least it’s almost over.”

“Yes, Young Ma—” Sebastian straightened, and his eyes narrowed.

Ciel looked up at his butler. Clearly, something was wrong. “What is it, Sebastian?”

“There’s another demon here,” said Sebastian quietly, gazing around the room.

“Another demon?” Ciel furrowed his brow. He’d never encountered another demon or had seen Sebastian around another of his kind.

“Yes.” Sebastian’s eyes were dark. “We’ll excuse ourselves as soon as acceptable.”

“What, you’re not popular with others of your kind?” Ciel smirked, eager to tease Sebastian.

His butler merely smiled. “We are solitary creatures, Young Master. It is not in our nature to remain close. Besides, we’re not fond of one another, even in our best moments.”

Ciel looked around the room, trying to determine who the demon could be, but with only Sebastian to go on, he wasn’t sure who to look at. He sighed in annoyance at not getting a choice to see Sebastian out of his element. “Very well. Let’s excuse ourselves.”

Sebastian bowed slightly. “We’ll let the maid in charge know we are departing.”

The pair crossed to the entrance of the reception hall where the maid was taking the cards left to the heir of the estate with condolences. They nodded smoothly with a gracious smile as each person left. As Ciel and Sebastian approached, though, Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. This was the demon he had sensed.

“Young Master, this is it,” murmured Sebastian, slowly drifting closer to Ciel in case the demon tried to grab for his soul.

“The—?” asked Ciel.

Sebastian nodded darkly. “Yes.” He gazed at the demon as they thanked the latest couple for attending before turning to Ciel and Sebastian.

Their eyes met.

Sebastian’s brow furrowed, and the other demon’s did the same. They both regarded each other with a bit of…familiarity. Ciel looked between them cautiously.

“Oh,” said the newer demon, straightening.

“Ah,” said Sebastian, his dark expression relaxing.

Ciel deadpanned, and an irk mark appeared on his forehead. “Would you care to explain what I’m missing, Sebastian?”

“I know them, my Lord,” said Sebastian. His eyes passed over the demon again, as did theirs, as they both gauged the latest appearance the other took on.

“I thought you said you didn’t like others of your kind,” said Ciel.

“They are the only tolerable being of my kind,” replied Sebastian with a nod to the maid.

The demon smiled. “Why, thank you. I think the same of you.”

“I am superior to most,” said Sebastian with a smirk.

“And being tolerable made you drop your guard? Sorry excuse…” muttered Ciel, unimpressed with Sebastian’s pride.

“They are the only demon that has any…slight honor, Young Master,” said Sebastian. “They will not try anything against me.”

“And I just finished a…job contract, so I’m well fed,” said the demon with a catlike smirk.

“Ah, the Baroness?” asked Sebastian.

The demon smiled sharply. “She needed a little help with her husband.”

“Ah, yes, the one who died in the unfortunate accident,” said Sebastian with a sly smirk.

“Actually, he had been about to gamble away the fortune he’d gotten when marrying the dearly departed Baroness. She got quite lucky, in a way,” said the demon, smirking.

“Ah, indeed,” said Sebastian with a knowing look.

“And this is your latest contract?” asked the demon, smiling at Ciel.

“Earl Phantomhive,” said Ciel curtly.

“Please to meet you, my Lord,” said the demon with a nod. They understood why their fellow had taken him as a contract. His soul radiated purity. However, they had just fed and had no need for another soul for a long time, plus this was their old acquaintance making the contract, they couldn’t interrupt that.

“I assume you’ll be looking for new employment, then?” questioned Sebastian.

“Yes, just tying up some ends here and there,” said the demon. “Though I am not hungry and am loath to return…home, so who knows what I will do.”

Sebastian was silent for a moment before looking at Ciel. “My Lord, I believe the manor is in need of further staffing.”

“Isn’t four enough with you there?” questioned Ciel, raising an eyebrow.

“Unfortunately, my colleagues are less than adequate at times,” said Sebastian.

“Are you suggesting I offer another of your kind a job?” asked Ciel. He wasn’t sure whether to think Sebastian was losing his mind after being so territorial or to actually take him seriously.

“There is very little good help these days,” lamented Sebastian. Plus, he trusted this one to the extent demons could trust one another. They were fed and had proven time and time again to respect his status as a demon, so he had no reason to worry after them stealing his soul. (And it had been a while since they had seen one another, not that it played into Sebastian’s decision making. That would be flawed reasoning for a butler such as him).

Ciel shrugged. “What the hell? I already have one of you.”

The demon brightened. “This does seem like a fun way to pass the time.”

Ciel nearly deadpanned again. And I thought Sebastian was strange.

The demon turned to Sebastian and held out their gloved hand to shake. “I look forward to working with you again, Mr…?”

“My master calls me ‘Sebastian,’ ” said Sebastian, shaking their hand.

“Sebastian…” repeated the demon thoughtfully. Their nose twitched, catlike. “There have been worse.”

Sebastian scoffed quietly. “And you?”

“The Baroness called me ‘(Y/N) Noir.’ I believe I will continue to use the name,” said (Y/N). They took a step back and smiled. “Now, Sebastian, my Lord, I must finish my service to the Baroness. I will head to your estate within a day.” (Y/N) bowed to Ciel, nodded to Sebastian, and turned to the other guests.

“Sebastian,” said Ciel as they left the reception hall.

“My Lord?” asked Sebastian.

“How do you know this demon?” asked Ciel.

“My Lord, if you are wondering about their ability, they are capable and, even if not trustworthy since they are one of my kind, reliable,” said Sebastian. He gave a small false smile. “If you are concerned for your safety or your revenge, there is no reason. (Y/N)—” He let the new name roll of his tongue “—will assist with our endeavors. Of course, that is until they take their own contract, but then they will merely part ways with us.”

Ciel gave a look at Sebastian. “If I wanted references, I would have asked for them. I asked you how you know them. Don’t evade my questions.”

“Very well, my Lord,” said Sebastian, giving a slight bow before guiding Ciel into the carriage and sitting across from him. “I taught (Y/N).”

Ciel raised an eyebrow. “Taught them? Demons teach one another?”

“Occasionally, yes,” said Sebastian. He smirked. “I taught (Y/N) well, and so they give me…more respect than demons typically give one another. None of our encounters have ever been uncivil.”

“That explains why they acted like you, charming everyone and being the perfect servant,” muttered Ciel. “Are you two the same type of demon or something?”

“No, Young Master,” said Sebastian. He smirked. “I am a raven. They are a cat. We are completely different.”

Ciel groaned. “Of course, they’re a cat. You love cats.”

“I can assure you, Young Master, I adore cats, but my feelings towards (Y/N) are very different,” said Sebastian.

However, with Ciel’s order to never lie to him, Sebastian found himself speaking in quite the roundabout fashion.

Sebastian opened the door and smiled pleasantly as he found (Y/N), maid outfit pressed carefully, standing beside a single bag outfit the doors of the Phantomhive Estate.

“Right on schedule,” said Sebastian. “An excellent start to the job.”

(Y/N) had a catlike smile as they looked back at him, still as fresh and unafraid as they had been a millennia ago. “I was taught to be perfect at any job I took.” A mischievous light glinted in their eyes. “And I don’t fail my teacher.”

“No, you do not,” said Sebastian with a smirk. He lifted (Y/N)’s bag. “Come, I’ll escort you to your quarters. Then, I shall show you what it means to be a Phantomhive servant.”

(Y/N) nodded as they walked through the silent halls to the servant’s quarters.

“This will be your room,” said Sebastian, opening the door and placing the luggage on the bed.

(Y/N) looked around and nodded. “Very well.”

Sebastian brandished a maid’s uniform from behind him, pulling it from nowhere with the skills only a demon could possess. “This will be your new uniform for the Phantomhive Estate. As you have gotten used to performing as a maid for the Baroness, I assume you will continue such a role. If not, I will have a manservant’s uniform prepared momentarily.”

“The maid uniform will do,” said (Y/N), smiling and taking it.

Sebastian nodded and stepped back out the door. “I will give you a moment to change.”

“Thank you,” said (Y/N). They glanced up at Sebastian as he closed the door. “And Sebastian…”

He looked at them, and their eyes, sharp with the eyeliner creating a catlike shape, met his.

“It’s good to see you. It’s been far too long.” A smile appeared on (Y/N)’s lips as the door closed.

Sebastian sighed. A little too bright for a demon. He supposed it took all types. Although, of course, he had put up with them for so long. He supposed it wasn’t too bad.

And they were right. It had been far too long.

Not that he’d noticed it.

Not at all.

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

#one hell of a love #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #x nb reader #nb reader #black butler x reader #black butler fic #black butler ciel #black butler sebastian #black butler #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji #sebastian x reader #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian x demon!reader #demon reader #demon!reader

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gabessquishytum · 2 months

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Hi Gabe! Hope you're well! This one was inspired by this art

There's a statue in the middle of the woods near the village Morpheus lives in. No one knows from where it came nor for how long it has been there, but everyone knows one thing: sometimes, if you ask and you're lucky enough, it can grant you a wish.

Some people believe the statue grants the wishes based on how worthy you are, some believe it's based on how worthy the wish itself is. Some believe it's pure luck, and some believe it's all a load of bullshit, complete coincidence. Morpheus doesn't know what to believe.

He has seen the statue a few times before, when he was still young - it's a plump man, with thick arms, thighs and chest, a belly that rests confortably on his lap, wavy hair that reaches strong shoulders and frames a face that is so beautiful and serene it has made more than one person cry. The man is sat on a boulder and a single piece of cloth wraps his body in gentle folds, and his position makes it seem like he's offering his hands and a conforting smile to whoever is kneeling before him.

He didn't see the statue for years after he left the village in pursue of a life with Nada - that is, before Nada decided she wanted nothing to do with him. Nor did he see it after Alianora, or Killala, or Thessaly. Even Calliope, the one he believed was his soulmate from the moment they locked eyes, had broken their courting.

Too clingy, they said. Always hovering, always wishing to be close, always offering food and disrupting whatever they were doing, until he himself got lost in his drawings and paintings and they couldn't get a hold of him for days, sometimes weeks. Drawings and paintings in which he poured his love for them, only for them to leave before it was finished - and then Morpheus would throw the canvases and sheets of paper in the fire.

The day after Calliope left, Morpheus came back to the village. He haunted his home for days, and then the grounds when he started feeling too empty. He started going farther and farther from the estate each night, until he happened upon the clearing and the statue. And Morpheus let himself believe, just for a single moment.

He kneled before the statue, placed his hands above the man's, looked into his eyes, and wished for someone who would let him love them, and love him back just as fiercelly.

The next day, Morpheus woke up to a man resting on the settee and smiling at him, a single piece of cloth wraping his golden, furry body in gentle folds.

(is this anything? idk lol Have a good day!)

Hmnnnggg yeH this is something. Still haven't played bg3 btw but I still get very excited when I see Gale art. Esp if he gets to have some tummy.

I absolutely love this. First the idea of Dream kneeling in supplication before the statue and just wishing for someone to love! Someone who will stay! Someone who will understand. He feels a little bit silly but it's actually rather comforting, and he stays a long time with his cheek pressed against the statue's thigh. If nothing else, he's released some pent up emotions.

But the next day his life changes forever. The statue is sitting in his house - except it isn't a statue anymore. Its a real, flesh and blood man. With dimpled cheeks and gentle eyes. Dream can't do anything except stare in complete loss and confusion.

"So sorry to barge in." The man says. "But you did make a wish, didn't you? I heard, and I thought... well, I'm sure I could love you in the way that you're looking for."

Dream sits down heavily, with his mouth still hanging open. He doesn't know what he's supposed to say! This man is too beautiful to be true, he's sure that he must be dreaming. How on earth could a statue come alive, and why would he choose to grant Dream’s wish???

"I'll make some tea. I know it's a lot to take in." The man says kindly. "I'm Hob. In case you were wondering."

And he walks off to put Dream’s kettle on the stove, carelessly allowing his fabric covering to shift over his body as it pleases. Dream gulps, staring at Hob’s soft swaying arse cheeks. If this is a dream, then he never wants to wake up!

#debellatis #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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effloradox · 4 months

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what would you do, if you only knew (that i can see you)

thomas thorne x ghost hunter+fem!reader (set during season 2 episode 1)

synopsis: being able to see ghosts for most of your life almost seemed to force you into being a ghost-hunter of sorts (not that your boss is actually good at his job), it’s only on a trip to button house and a reunion with an old friend from your student days that your ability actually comes into use after a run in with a particularly dashing ghost

a/n: this is massively inspired by the song i can see you by taylor swift, the plot just came into my head after listening to it and here we are, it was meant to fulfil one of the requests i’ve been sent but it went so far from the prompt that i decided to make it a separate fic and do another fic for the prompt

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re not sure how you ended up in the ghost hunting business. It’s not something you even thought was a real job when you were a kid, it seemed like something you'd see people doing in the cartoons you watched. It was only after a close call when you were a teenager that almost killed you that you realised that you could see ghosts.

It made living in London quite difficult, the sheer amount of people who’s spirit hadn’t moved on was difficult to deal with but you managed to set yourself up with the so-called Ghostmaster General and it gave you a steady stream of work going round the country with him seeing if the buildings were actually haunted or not. You’d never explicitly said you could see ghosts to your employer but you could express enough knowledge that he kept choosing you to go on the trips. When photos of a grey lady surfaced on Facebook and Twitter from a mansion in Hemel Hempstead your boss had called on you immediately to join him on the trip.

Button House didn’t seem to be any different than the countless other manor houses you’d seen over the past few years. It's in a worse state of repairs than you're used to but aside from that it seems like every other fake haunted house you've visited. You’d left your boss to sort out whether you were being allowed inside the house, not wanting to drag the many bags of equipment to the front gates if you were going to have to just bring them back to the van. It’s only when he gives you the go-ahead to go and start setting equipment up inside that you grab a few bags and make your way towards the entrance.

It's with a jolt of surprise that you realise you recognise one of the owners of the house. You’d been friends with Alison at university until the two of you had both finished your degrees and parted ways, keeping in touch only to wish each other a happy birthday or similar milestones.

“Alison, hey!” The woman looked your way at her name, and her face bloomed into a confused smile when her eyes fell on you.

“Hey! Oh my god!” She pulled you into a hug as soon as you were within arms reach and you did your best to reciprocate without hitting her with the equipment bag slung over your shoulder.

“This is your house?”

“Yeah, well it was my great-step-aunt’s house and I inherited it when she died.”

“That’s amazing! Much easier than trying to get lucky with London real estate.”

“So how did you end up doing this?” Alison gestures vaguely to the bag pulled across your shoulder. It’s all you can do to shrug your shoulders lightly, trying to look as blasé as possible as you readjust the strap before it starts to slip down.

“It pays the bills.”

You couldn’t help but notice how nervous Alison was about the whole situation she’d found herself in but you chalked it up to nerves about having so many strangers in her home and didn’t think to push it. She’s kind enough to give you directions up to one of the rooms near the attic that your boss has assigned for the thermal camera currently resting against your shoulder. You agree to a cup of tea and a catch up before making your way to the room.

Everything was going normally with the equipment setup until you suddenly heard a voice shouting down a corridor. It immediately pulled your attention from the camera you were setting up, your eyes trained on the closed door to the room you're in waiting to hear footsteps approaching. When silence lay steady, your focus returned back to the camera.

It takes a great deal of self-control to try not to flinch when a figure suddenly comes through the closed door. You try not to let your eyes flicker away from the camera but can’t help but quickly scan the figure. It’s not the grey ghost you saw in the pictures, the man is dressed like a scout for some reason and the only abnormal thing about him is the arrow sticking out of his neck. You can’t help but wince slightly at that, what a terrible way to go. The ghost is talking to himself apparently in a thick northern accent or that’s what you assumed until another ghost steps through the door.

It takes everything within you to not stare at this ghost. He’s clearly from a few hundred years ago based on his attire but he might be the most beautiful man you’re ever laid eyes on. He was mid-sentence when he walked through the door saying something about finding the others but his voice trailed off when he looked in your direction.

“But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and you are the sun.” The way his voice carries the words is nothing short of reverent and you can practically feel the embarrassment rushing through your body. It's not the first time a ghost has found you attractive but normally they're plague victims or half-mad, they don't normally look as though they've just stepped away from a recreation of Pride and Prejudice.

“Thomas! It's not polite to stare.” The scout almost looks apologetic which is quite sweet given that there’s no way he can know that you can see him but his words have done nothing to deter Button House’s version of Mr Darcy.

“And yet we hang the most beautiful paintings ever created in galleries so that the masses may gaze upon their beauty. Would you deny me a similar experience Pat?”

As nice as it is to have someone speak about you like that, you’re aware that it’s going to be very difficult to get through the night if you have a ghost following you and all but swooning over you. Part of you wonders if you could try and feign being sick but also you know how one-track minded your boss will be about this house and there’s no way he’ll be willing to leave to drive you into the nearest town to get a train back to London.

You hear the familiar sounds of the camera as it’s finally finished setting up facing the door and, as you expected, shows no sign of any heat signatures. You decide to leave your other bag in the room for now, choosing instead to go and find Alison. The two ghosts are mid-debate as to whether it’s polite to stare at someone who doesn’t know they’re being stared at as you walk over to the door.

It’s with slightly shaking hands that you twist the handle on the door, opening it as calmly as possible as you try to remember your way out of the house. You can hear the ghosts talking in the room and the voices don’t seem to be getting any further away but the only cohesive thought in your mind is that you have to track down Alison and ask her what she knows about the house.

“Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.” Alison laughs nervously at her joke but it does nothing to relax you.

“I need to speak to you.”

“Okay?”

“Outside.” Alison must see something in your expression that worries her because she allows you to take her by the arm and gently leads you to the front door. It's only when the front door is closed behind you and you can't see anyone dead or alive around that you find your anxiety easing. When you stop moving, you make sure to have your back to the front door, if only to put yourself at ease.

“Are you okay?” You’re about to speak when a voice cuts through the silence.

“Alison! You must reveal the name of this fair maiden at once! Her beauty outshines the sun in a way I never believed possible up until this very moment.” You have to give credit to Alison, she's very good at hiding the flinch when a voice suddenly appears from through the front door. It's only from a lifetime of doing something similar that you catch it, and you watch her eyes darting to something behind you before looking back towards you.

“Sorry, did you say something?” To give Alison credit, her voice only wavers slightly after the interruption. Maybe it’s unfair of you but when you speak, you make sure to do so in a quieter tone than you would normally. You have to be sure that she can see and hear him before you say anything and if you can make it harder for her to hear you under the loud gushing of the ghost then you’ll do what you can.

“I think there’s something upstairs.” You try to pay close attention to any reactions that Alison has to your comment but it’s very difficult once the ghost appears by your side. Up close he really is gorgeous. It’s almost a shame he’s dead because if you saw him in public you’d want his number in a heartbeat. It’s very hard to not let your eye wander in his direction, especially when he’s so close to you. He hasn’t stopped talking since he appeared through the door and whilst you’re more than used to a chatty ghost, you can see that Alison is getting more and more distracted by him.

“Alison! I must insist you express how ardently I admire this fair lady immediately or I shall never give you a moment of peace!” The threat, however serious he is about it, seems to be the final breaking point for your friend, whose face shoots in his direction.

“Thomas, stop talking for one second!” Even the ghost seems surprised by her outburst, staring at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. She catches her mistake in an instant, staring at you with an almost mortified expression as she waits for your reaction.

“I’m guessing you have more than two ghosts here then?”

“What?” Alison’s voice is tentative, like she’s waiting for you to either laugh in her face or run away screaming. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“I can see them too.”

“What?!” You don’t blame Alison for being surprised, it’s not something you ever told her during your time as students, not even when you had both had a bit too much to drink and your secrets spilled easily. You’d learned early into your time seeing ghosts that telling people the truth was a quick way to alienate yourself from friends and peers alike. It was much easier to lie and say you were just an anxious person by nature who startled easily than to explain that you flinched every time you saw a particularly gruesome looking ghost.

“Sorry for not telling you. Pat seems really nice.”

“Oh my god.” A beat passes as the news sinks in, and then another wave of acceptance seems to reach Alison and with it comes another shout. “Oh my god! You can hear him?” She points in Thomas’ direction and the ghost in question has the good grace to look somewhat mortified by the idea you’ve spent the past thirty minutes listening to him regale you with compliments that he thought you couldn’t hear.

“I can.” For a ghost that’s just spent the better part of an hour showering you with compliments, he suddenly seems unable to string a sentence together. It’s easy to put him out of his misery though. “You’re very handsome by the way. I’m very flattered.” His face goes red at the compliment and, for the first time since he appeared in front of you, he seems genuinely speechless. Alison seems to be in a similar state.

“Does your boss know?”

“Absolutely not! I didn’t want to spend most of my adult life being ridiculed for something no one would ever believe to be true. Have you told anyone?”

“Mike knows. Kind of hard not to tell him with so many of them.” Mike is quickly making his way into your good books with everything you hear about him and you make a mental note to buy him a nice bottle of wine for being such a supportive husband.

“How many have you got?”

“Too many.” You let out a soft noise of consideration before turning to the still shocked ghost standing beside you.

“Would you introduce me to your friends?” Thomas seems to snap out of his shock at your request, bowing slightly and extending a hand in your direction. It’s a sweet gesture even though both of you know you can’t physically take his hand.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“I’ll uh, catch up with you later?”

“You might want to worry about the twenty-something ghost hunters running amok in your house first.” Alison pales slightly at the reminder of what situation has brought the three of you to where you currently are.

“Oh god. I need to go and find Mike.” Your friend is quick to dash back inside her house, leaving the door open for you and Thomas to follow her. Manly you, since he could just phase through the door again.

“Shall we Lady-uh…” It’s only in that moment that you realise Alison never actually told Thomas your name and you’re quick to correct that.

“(Y/N).” You supply.

“Lady (Y/N).”

“We shall.” Thomas walks towards the house first, waiting just beyond the door for you to follow him. Your only thought as you walk through the door is that you hope you don’t run into your boss for the next thirty minutes or so otherwise you might have some explaining to do.

#my writing #fics #thomas thorne x reader #bbc ghosts x reader #fem!reader

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knight-of-flowerss · 1 year

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The hobbit

Thorin x hobbit reader

Reader is bilbos older badass sister who kills anything and anybody with her cast iron pan.

So we know dwarfs don’t get pregnant much, an basically rare to have girls, so how would the others react to reader (everyone lives au) telling thorin she’s pregnant after the battle, now hobbits are small so one imagining they have have up to 4 kids at once and be ok, probably even expected.

So when the dwarfs and surprise her (and bilbo the soon to be uncle along with lady Dis) with her finished nursery, and after the excitement, reader asks were the rest of the cribs are!!!

…

The dwarfs ask what she means and she an bilbo say that hobbits give birth to more then one child, so I wanna see there reactions (including Dis) when reader says she’s pregnant with 4 children I wanna know the reactions of the grate thorin and the fearsome Dwalin!

Bounes if you add when the babies are born (3 girls and 1 boy ) and the reaction of the company

thorin screaming “I can’t hold them all I need more arms or bigger ones!! 😭😭😭”

OMG YES I LOVE THIS SMMMMM ITS SO CUTE AHAHAHHA!!!! I opened this at like 10 o’clock at night so I was tired so I’ve don’t it today after school so I had more time and it didn’t sound loopy 💀

This hasn’t been spell checke btw!

Masterlist

Happy Ending

Anyone’s name: this colour and in bold

Thorin Oakenshield x Hobbit!Reader

You’re little brother Bilbo has always really only kept to himself, occasionally having relatives (but never distant because he doesn’t trust them around his cutlery) around Bag End.

You were his daring older sister, never afraid of anything, selfless, badass. You were staying at your brothers while your burrow got a new door. You offered to help but the other hobbits refused as they were paying you a favour.

You and your brother sat in shock as twelve dwarfs and a wizard wrecked Bilbo’s house. But after the table was set you soon forgot all about it, your brother on the other hand..

When a dwarf named Thorin showed up you couldn’t help but stare at him. He was your height, had long, dark locks and eyes so beautiful that you could get lost in them with just one glance. And when they proposed Bilbo come on this journey with them you immediately invited yourself along.

The journey was harrowing, fighting off ogres, goblins, orcs. Then there was the ‘final battle’ against Azog and his army. It was tough but it was no match for the dwarves and their resilience.

They fought with all there might, defeating the army and Azog and returning home safely.

For almost half a year now, you and Thorin had been married. Half a year of pure joy. And surprises.

You felt sick as a dog for almost 3 weeks now, your body weak. Dís, Thorin’s sister, suspected something was wrong and encouraged you to go and see a doctor of some kind. It had been confirmed though that it wasn’t any fatal illness, nothing of the sort.

You and Thorin where actually expecting.

The two of you were estatic, jumping for joy, but a little bit inside of you was sacred, terrified even. You knew what this meant. You knew you had to push out multiple of the little creatures miracles. But you would go through all that pain for Thorin.

As the months passed your belly grew and grew, never stopping, even for just a moment. The dwarves and your brother offered to help build a nursery for the little lad inside you (they assumed it was a boy because of the very low chances of a little baby girl popping out), at first you tried to help them but they just brushed you off and told you to relax, so, you hesitantly accepted the offer.

While they moved everything into the nursery and decorated it, you took a nap (which ended up being like 3 hours but we don’t talk abt that-). When you woke up you saw Bilbo and the side of you, reaching to wake you up.

You jumped as you hadn’t expected him to be there.

“Bilbo! What are you doing here?!” You whispered-shouted through gritted teeth. “Uh- the nursery- um, it’s ready.” Bilbo stutters, clearly shocked that you wanted to shout at him.

Bilbo helped you up as you where weaker and your belly put more and more pressure on your back.

You stood at the doorway as Dís and Bilbo pushed the doors open with big smiles. In the room stood Oin, Glóin, Dori, Ori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dwalin, Balin, Fíli, Kíli and stood in the middle with a soft smile one his face was your dear husband, Thorin.

You slowly stepped into the room looking around. Little toys on shelves, a play area with a fur rug, a changing station, one crib and more.

When you had finally reached your lover, you turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a cocked head.

“One crib? Really?”

Thorin looked a tad confused, “what do you mean my love? What is the babe supposed to rest in?”

“I think you mean babes.” You replied with a smirk. A bunch of ‘eh?’s where muttered around the room while Bilbo suppressed a chuckle.

Thorin sat with a half confused, half shocked face. “Whatever do you mean my love?..”, “you do know Hobbits have multiple children, do you not?”

Thorin’s eyes widened as your words registered in his head. “What-..”

The pregnancy was terrible, horrendous even, but your spirits where high when Thorin was by your side. You had given him four children, 3 girls and a boy.

(I got the last two names from a D&D website for dwarf names cus I couldn’t think of owt 💀)

Your little boy was named Thráin (III) after his father. Your first girl was called Dísa after Thorin’s sister Dís. Your second girl was named Arrin, meaning ‘exalted’ and ‘lofty’ and your last little girl was named Asta, meaning ‘divine strength’ , ‘love’ and ‘star-like’, she was named this due to her being the hardest out of them all to give birth to and that you and Thorin nearly lost her.

You and Thorin are sat on a couch in the children’s room with a fur blanket o top of yous while your four little toddlers play with eachother with wooden and plush toys.

You lean your head on Thorin’s shoulder as you look at your children and then up at your lover, who was already staring at you. “I am so grateful for the children you have brought me, love. You have made me a father, you a mother and all of us a family, I am forever in your debt my queen, I love you.”

You smiled up at your husband, tears welling up in your eyes as you wear a dopey smile on your face, “I love you too my King,”, you lean up and kiss your husband, you couldn’t ask for a better life.

An amazing husband, a gentle son and three graceful daughters, you loved them all so much, you finally had your happy ending.

I hope you like this cus i finished this while I was ill 😭

@thethreeeyed-raven

#Thorin Oakenshield #Thorin #thorin Oakenshield x reader #Thorin x reader #Thorin fanfic #Thorin Oakenshield fanfic #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic

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illicitlimerence-writes · 1 year

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guiding lights | m. verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x singer!actress!reader word count: 1.7k words request: nope, at least i don’t think so. prompt: putting up decorations ⎯ “wow… that’s… a lot of lights.” from this prompt list. not my prompts, credits to the person who created it! warnings: allusions to sex, language, idk what else a/n: am i ready to jump back into a month-long challenge? nope, but i will try my best. i have tomorrow’s fic ready but i’m not too sure i’ll be able to complete this lol. friendly reminder that my requests are closed!

my masterlist / this is part of the 'superheroes and flat caps' series. find all the parts here! / 25 days of christmas masterlist

she sighed, dropping her luggage once she opened the door, leaning her weight against it to close it as she entered her home. the house was cold, and dark. not even the light in the kitchen was on, which dropped her spirits a little.

it was officially the start of her winter holidays, max’s had started a week prior, -technically two, but he’d had other events that first week - which meant he’d been all alone in their house for a week, bored out of his mind with no company or distractions other than his simulator, netflix, or their daily videochats.

during those last ones, she’d insisted he visited some of his friends, or invited them into their new home, but he refused, said she was supposed to be there to welcome guests, too. it was their first official home, and max couldn’t take all the credit for scoring such a great place like that. their new house was big, spacious, without being too much. she’d drawn a line when the real estate agent showed them a house with not one but two jaccuzis, in the backyard, besides a really large pool. she could see max was really, actually contemplating it, but she shook her head and muttered ‘uh-uh,’ her eyes open in a way that said ‘don’t even think about it.’

so, max was really taking the word ‘vacation’ literally. doing absolutely nothing but sit on the couch and watch movies - a few big releases he’d missed during the year-, and yell at the tv whenever a character did something stupid. he was living his best life.

meanwhile, she was working hard, finishing her new album, planning release dates and other marketing strategies ahead of the new year. and once everything was planned, she was more than eager, ready, to go home.

although this welcome wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she thought of finally coming home to max. it seemed that he’d finally listened to her advice and had gone out of the house, for once. she couldn’t be upset about it, max wasn’t someone that took solitude easily, he enjoyed being around people, although he didn’t express it verbally most of the time.

she turned on the lights as she made her way in, grabbing her suitcase and walking to the washing room, making a mental note to wash all of her stuff the following day. after that, she walked further into the house, and couldn’t help but smile, a soft, content sigh leaving her lips as she took in the fact that this was theirs. not just hers, or max’s, but theirs. they’d jumped into this adventure together, and it still didn’t feel real.

a thud coming from upstairs caught her attention, she frowned as she heard another sound, like something had fallen. she rushed to a closet, where max kept his golf clubs, and grabbed one, soundlessly walking up the steps. there was an open door, the third room to the right, what they’d decided would be max’s space. she got closer, trying to peek her head in, and just at that second, max came out of the room.

she yelled, both in shock and surprise, which caused max to do the same.

“why are you holding a club?!” he yelled/asked, making her drop the object to the floor.

“i thought you were a burglar!” she ran her hand through her hair, feeling her heartbeat quickening, “i saw all the lights out and thought you were out somewhere,” she closed her eyes and placed a hand on her chest, catching her breath.

“jesus,” max’s chest was heaving, and they both stood there for a few seconds, recovering from the scare, and once that had passed, she jumped straight in his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, he turned, placing her back against the wall for support, and looked her in the eyes, saying the words he’d been waiting for since he got to monaco, “welcome home.”

she smiled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him close, she buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent and relaxing under his touch. one of his hands found its way to her hair, he tilted his head and placed a kiss to her neck as he curled his fingers around her hair.

“did you finish the song?” he asked, there was one song left in the album that was not ready yet. and she was okay with it not being in the album, she wanted to perfect it, no matter how long it took. ‘you are in love’ was being a pain in her ass, but this song felt too special, too important for them, for their relationship.

“not yet.” she sighed, “i guess you’ll just have to do more romantic things for me.” she chuckled.

max stilled for a second, before laughing as well, kissing her again as he led her to their room.

after catching up (and making up for lost time), a forgotten thought ran through her mind.

“hey, what were you doing in your office earlier? when i came in?” she asked, looking up at him, her chin resting on his chest, fingers playing with the gold chain hanging from his neck.

“oh!, i was getting something i needed,”

“for what?”

“something.”

“and what’s that something?” she raised an eyebrow.

“a surprise, for you. but it’s not ready yet. actually, i should go finish,” he said, gently cupping her chin and lifting her from his chest, he got up from the bed, putting on clean boxers and sweatpants, and throwing a hoodie on.

“maxwell?” she called for him, max chuckled, it always humored him how she’d find different names to call him when she was annoyed at him, “you’re not seriously leaving me like this, right now,” she held the sheets up to her chest, watching him look back with a smile on his face.

“i’ll be right back.” he declared.

“max!”

“you’ll like it, i swear!”

“payback’s a bitch!” she reminded him, falling down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“i’ll be waiting for it, then. i’ll come back for you when it’s ready!” she heard his voice getting lower as he walked down the stairs, getting farther away from her.

she took her time alone to take a warm shower, doing her extended skincare routine, noticing how some of her products were less ful than what she remembered from the last time she was home. she chuckled at the thought of max experimenting with her products, applying the creams and serums to his face as his thought process told him to.

“it’s done!” max said as he walked in the room, his head whipping around as he looked for her. “baby?” he asked.

“bathroom!” she said, and turned her head to look at him as she finished washing her hands.

“you stole my hoodie,” he noticed.

“what happened to ‘what’s mine is yours’?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“there’s not a ring on my finger yet,” he said, making her laugh.

“there’s not one on mine either. better treat me right if you want me to stay,” she teased, “you’ve got points off for leaving me like that.”

“oh, but this will make up for it, i swear.”

“hm, that’s up to me to decide.”

he grabbed her hand, bringing her close to him, his free hand found her cheek, pressing his lips against hers, she responded softly, sliding an arm on his waist, curling her fingers on the fabric of his sweatshirt. her other hand reached inside his hoodie, grabbing the chain and seeing the small charm again, a smile on her face as she remembered the moment she saw it for the first time.

“no persuading me,” she tapped his nose, “now show me.”

he grabbed her hands, leading her out of the room and down the stairs, meanwhile he spoke.

“so i know this is our second christmas together, but it’s our first in our new home, and we have to make it special, right?” he asked, waiting for her to agree.

“right,” she said warily, not knowing where this was headed.

“we’ll need to get a lot more decorations compared to what we had last year, we have so much space here. anything you want. and i know you looove sparkles, so-” he said, leaving her through the sliding door, out into the garden, where everything she could see was warm glowing light.

little lights everywhere. and i mean, everywhere.

around the trunks of the trees, all along the edge of the pool, the chairs and the roof of the house. even a few christmas trees made completely out of lights.

“wow, that’s… a lot of lights,” she whispered, overwhelmed by the amount of lights everywhere she looked.

“yeah, they’re to guide you home,” he said cheesily, a sly smile on his face. it was meant to be a joke, but she grinned at him, loving how open max had become to express his love for her, to her.

she hugged him, wrapping her arms around him so tight that max huffed out a little, before placing his arms around her shoulders and placing a kiss to the top of her head.

“you know… when i said about doing more romantic things… i didn’t mean like right now. not that i’m complaining but-”

“i know. i just… i don’t know, i feel like since this is out first christmas and other holidays here, i think we should go all out.”

“that’s alright, we can do that.” she nodded, turning her head around, her eye catching a different kind of glimmer. the chain hanging from his neck, the charm with her initial on it, seemed to sparkle, reflecting the lights all around them as he moved. he grabbed her hands, taking a step back and twirled her around. she chuckled, not expecting the movement. she came back to him, placing a hand on his chest as he pulled her close. he started swaying, his free hand meeting her waist. and they slow danced under the moonlight, and all the christmas lights. “thank you. i love it.”

“you’re very welcome,” he smiled, kissing the side of her temple.

“you’re paying the electric bill this month and next, though,” she made it clear.

“yup, i figured.” he laughed.

“we can start decorating tomorrow,” she declared.

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mochimoee · 9 months

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Sanemi x Reader | Valentine's Day

Tags: None, just fluff and sweet Sanemi.

Word count: 700

~♡ Dividers by: cafekitsune ♡~

Valentine's Day was coming up and Sanemi wanted to do something special for you. The two of you have been dating for a little over a year now, so he wanted to do something other than just give you chocolates. He had brainstormed ideas for weeks now until he finally had the perfect idea.

He had decided to speak with Rengoku about learning how to write and wondered if Rengoku would help teach him. Out of all of the Hashiras, he figured Rengoku would be the one he could trust the most. Rengoku of course agreed and thought it was a marvelous idea. They started meeting every few days a week whenever neither of them were too busy.

A few weeks had gone by and it was finally Valentine's day. Sanemi had been working his ass off just about every day just to make sure the note he gave you was perfect. Of course it wasn't as good as most others' handwriting, but it was the best he could do. He got the note written out, picked up a few of your favorite flowers and candies, and headed out to your estate.

You were very excited to see Sanemi today and present him with your gift. You had worked hard all morning to make him his favorite dish, Ohagi. You hoped he'd love it. You put it aside in a little box to keep safe as you waited for him to arrive.

Shortly after finishing the Ohagi and getting changed, Sanemi arrived right on time. Excitedly, you ran to greet him. "Nemi!! Happy Valentine's Day!" You practically squealed while hugging him. He chuckled and hugged you back with one arm while holding his gift behind his back with the other. "Happy Valentine's Day my love." He smiled as you stepped back and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Oh! Let me go get your gift." You went to run to the kitchen to grab the Ohagi, but he grabbed your arm and stopped you before you could. "I'd actually like you to open my gift first, if that's okay" he said nervously while blushing. He pulled out the flowers and candies first to give to you. "Oh Nemi! These are my favorites! Thank you so much!" You smiled brightly as you sniffed the flowers and peeked at the candies. "That's not all" "Hmm?" You looked up at him with curiosity wondering what else he could've gotten you. He pulled an envelope out and handed it to you. You sat the flowers and candies down on a nearby table so you could open the envelope and when you did, you could barely contain your happiness.

"Dear (Y/N)

The past year I've shared with you has been one of the happiest years of my life. Words cannot describe my love for you that continues to grow with each passing day. You have become the light of my life and the one person I wish to spend eternity with. If you allow me, I will continue to work each day to bring you just as much happiness as you have given me. Happy Valentine's Day, my love.

Love Sanemi."

"Oh Nemi… Did you write this?" Your eyes filled with tears of happiness as he nodded his head. "I wanted to do something truly special for you. I hope it's okay. I know my handwriting isn't the best, but it's-" you cut him off before he could finish with a kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he started to kiss you back while placing his hands on your hips. You slowly pulled away and looked him in the eyes. "It was perfect Sanemi. Thank you." a blush started to form on his cheeks as he smiled while looking at you. "I'm glad" he said softly as he went to kiss you again.

The two of you shared a longer kiss this time when you suddenly remembered. "Oh! I almost forgot!!" You ran into the kitchen to grab the box of Ohagi you had prepared for him. "It's not as wonderful as the gift you wrote me, but I hope you'll enjoy it!" You handed him the box as he opened it with wide eyes. He smiled widely at the sight of the Ohagi and picked one up to try. He had a look of pleasure on his face after eating one. "They're perfect, love." You beamed with happiness as you both sat down to enjoy the rest of the day together. All in all it was a pretty successful Valentine's Day.

Ah I hope you enjoyed!! I want to keep working on making some sweet Sanemi fanfics to balance out all the nsfw ones lol

Thanks for reading!

#sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi x reader #sanemi fanfic #x reader #gn reader #shinazugawa sanemi x reader #kny sanemi shinazugawa #demon slayer sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #sanemi fluff #x reader fluff #fluff fanfic

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agoodficforchii · 1 year

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Henna Headcanons

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Alhaitham, Ayato, Diluc, Tartaglia (Childe), Zhongli x Reader (Separately)

Summary: Genshin characters when they see you putting on henna

Word Count: Around 200-300 for each

Warnings/Extra Notes: Mentions of Eid, Mentions of marriage, Reader mentions wearing henna for weddings, Not proofread, Lmk if there's more!!

Alhaitham:

He actually reminded you about getting your henna done

Normally you’d forget about it until the last minute and then panic (no this is not from experience shut up)

And you had forgotten again this year until Alhaitham asked you a question,

“[Name], do you do your own henna?”

You do! You were so proud of it and were about to show off until you realize

Oh no. You didn’t have any and he just reminded you about it.

Probably why he asked you because let’s be honest he already knows the answer to that question

You had been staring at your empty hand for the last minute, while Alhaitham was staring at you. His question made you remember your henna or lack thereof. It also made you realize that it was the last day before Eid, meaning the already crowded bazaar would be even more crowded if that's possible. Alhaitham stared at you for a minute more before getting up from the couch with an exasperated sigh. Snapping out of your trance, you looked over to where Alhaitham was grabbing his keys while walking towards the door.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare or get up so we can get you some henna?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

You practically jumped out of your seat and ran towards the door with a slight blush dusting your face. Whether it was a blush out of embarrassment or because Alhaitham was going out on one of the busiest days of the year just for you, you'll never tell.

Ayato:

You did your henna with Ayaka

Like you were sitting in one of the rooms doing your henna when Ayaka walked by and saw

She found it beautiful so she asked if she could watch you putting it on

You obviously weren’t gonna just let her watch.

So that's how Ayato found the both of you putting henna on each other

Ayato had just arrived back at the estate and all he wanted to do was spend some time with you before having to fill out the mountains of paperwork that awaited him. Walking past a slightly open door he heard his sister asking you a question,

“Ah [Name], am I holding it right?”

Now Ayato would normally leave you two alone but he was also really curious. So, he pushed the door open as quietly as possible to see what was happening. The sight that greeted him was one that made his heart skip a beat. He knew you and Ayaka were close, something which he adored, but seeing you guys interact would always make him fall harder for you. Especially now, seeing you share something important to you with his younger sister. While you were helping Ayaka apply her henna, he noticed your own. He couldn’t help but feel proud seeing how talented you were. He stood there for a few more minutes, unnoticed, before deciding to quickly go and finish his work. After all, how could he not spend all night with you after that sight?

Diluc:

You guys were in the dining room and he was watching you apply your henna

He was so serious about watching it too

Like he would watch you intently, ask questions, and listen to you tell stories about it

While you were talking about when people typically wear henna you brought up marriages

And ohmygod are you saying you want to marry him???

Diluc couldn’t take his eyes off you. Everyone knows that he’s always looking at you or for you. But right now he couldn't stop looking at you because you were applying your henna. He couldn’t help it either! You just looked so cute concentrating so hard on making the most perfect lines you could. You were talking about when you would typically wear henna when you mentioned something that literally made Diluc’s heart stop.

“My mom used to tell me how on her wedding night my father spent hours finding all the little references in her henna. I’m sure she exaggerated, but I can’t wait to pick my henna for our wedding.” You said so casually, even ending with a giggle. You didn’t even look away from your hand.

Those words rang through Diluc’s ears. Our wedding. Your wedding with him. Sure he knew he wanted to marry you, but you mentioning it like you were just talking about the weather did something to him. You were still talking but he couldn’t bring himself to fully pay attention. He was too busy thinking about what kind of ring to buy you.

Tartaglia:

He would be so excited about it

Also wants to help you

But sucks at it, it’s okay though because you’re there

Would want to also get henna done

Omg he would brag about your amazing talent in his letters home

You were just peacefully looking at henna designs when suddenly your front door slammed open. You would’ve been terrified if you didn’t hear Childe’s voice approaching your house. You moved over a bit on your couch to let Childe sit down. He started talking about anything and everything but quickly noticed how your attention wasn’t on him but on whatever you were putting on your hand. He got pouty really fast but recovered even quicker. He decided that he would help you. Well, he tried, but it wasn’t too great. You ended up forcing him to sit quietly and just watch you. He got bored though, so he started begging you to get matching henna designs. You decided to just give the two of you simple hearts because it was the fastest cutest thing you could think of. That led to Childe talking about how his family would love you because of how amazing you are. But hey that’s better than him “helping” you.

“Aww babe, you’re so good at this. My s/o is so talented! Tonia would love this, I can’t wait until you meet her.”

Zhongli:

He made you henna

LISTEN IF HE CAN SPEND HOURS MAKING YOU TEA HE WILL MAKE YOU HENNA

Ahem anyway.

He made you henna and applied it for you because he’s perfect like that

As you were walking home, you prayed Zhongli would already be home. It had been a long day and all you wanted was some tea and the presence of your boyfriend. Reaching your front door, you quickly unlocked your door and rushed to take off your shoes. You threw your keys into the mini tray on top of the shoe shelf near your front door, when you noticed Zhongli’s shoes. Knowing he was home you were now even happier to be there. A strong stench of something hit your nose as soon as you entered the house. It smelled like…henna? You were confused since you hadn’t bought any yet and even if you had, why would your house smell like it? You found your answer after you walked into your kitchen. There was a bowl of henna sitting on the countertop. Zhongli walked in shortly after you, and you knew that this was his doing.

“Hello darling, how was your day?” he asked with a small smile.

You also had a small smile on your face as you spent the rest of your day talking to him as he helped you with your henna.

Notes: lol. hi. haha. ANYWAY a week late but here's my Eid post. The diluc one has my whole heart ngl, when will it be my turn to do that. Hope those of you who celebrated Eid had a good one!!

#character x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #ayato #ayato x reader #diluc #diluc x reader #tartaglia #tartagalia x reader #childe x reader #childe #zhongli #zhongli x reader

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gravessyard · 1 year

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Headcanons - Genshin men with the knowledge that you're a vampire: Ayato (ft. Thoma)

Notes from the Crypt: pretend I totally didn't disappear snddnsk as an apology, I give you this piece. Its the first time im writing for Ayato so I hope you enjoy!

Tags: GN!Vampire!Reader, jealousy, blood mentions, smut, dom!Ayato, headcanons.

• Many people in Inazuma know of your professional relationship with Kamisato Ayato, as you had practically stayed by the young lord's side since he was a child and you a freshly turned vampire. You were bound by contract, you'd be given free access to feed on the fauna of Inazuma in exchange for ensuring Ayato's (and in the future, Ayaka's) safety, or else you'll be sentenced to death, so you didn't really have much of a choice.

• There was one strict rule that you also could never break: you were never to feed from a Kamisato, it was a last resort from the late elder Kamisato to make sure you didn't try to backstab them in any way, and while it was a thorn in your side at first, as the years went by you didn't even give it a second thought. Always disappearing in the night to feed from local wildlife or an unfortunate treasure hoarder.

• Much like you, Ayato also never paid it any mind, relishing in the peace that you brought to him, his family and his household. He had nothing but praise for you, always so willing to listen to his every command and be at his beck and call, he never really took the time to truly wonder what it would feel like to be fed from an individual who lives off blood, as he was always busy with one task or another.

• Your first meeting with Thoma went smoothly, after introductions were made you had the pleasure of showing him around the estate, murmuring your own tips and tricks on getting along with the other workers and the guards as well as telling him that if he were in any kind of trouble to call for you, you'll be there as quick as the Shogun's lightning.

• Poor Thoma may have thought you were joking at first, not thinking too hard on it while he was in the city doing some shopping when he spots something he thought you would enjoy, and after a mumble of your name to himself, he's nearly scared out of his skin when you literally appeared next to him, hand ready to draw your sword at the apparent threat. You're puzzled when you look around, taking in the frightened and confused faces of Thoma and the shopkeepers before you relax and help the trembling housekeeper to his feet, casually dusting him off and remaining by his side while he finishes his errands. Thats the day Thoma found out you're a vampire bound to the Kamisatos.

• You're there when Thoma evolves from a fledging to a respectable worker, watching him form bonds and connections that were simply too complicated for you since the citizens of Inazuma saw you in a more intimidating light than the gentle housekeeper of the Kamisato estate. You werent too bothered by it, you were meant to be threatening and intimidating anyway, whatever helped keep your employers safe, you would pretend not to hear the rumors of the "Kamisato Monster".

• Working with Thoma has been rather refreshing, he was the bright bubbly personality that brought light into your seemingly gloomy existence, as all you've ever known was to obey orders and survive. He was the bridge that connected you and a deeper part of the Kamisato siblings, the line between professional and friendly becoming too blurred to make out until it dissipated entirely and you're now being called upon simply to hang out or be involved in events (you'd actually be given free reign to enjoy said events instead of stand stiffly beside the head of the Kamisato Clan).

• Ayato doesn't know what to make of the feeling that rises in his chest every time he sees you with Thoma, whether in the garden chatting idly or in the city. He knew that your loyalties lied with him and his sister, but he still couldn't stop the growing feeling of jealousy when you're smiling so openly with his housekeeper, regaling him with tales about your undead life that even he didnt bother to know about. That pang of posessive jealousy prompted him to call for you more often, keeping you busy with little mundane tasks like rubbing his shoulders or telling him about your childhood, tell him what you were like before you were turned.

• His inquiries shocked you, if your blood were still pumping through your veins you'd be flushing at the notion that he actually wants to get to know you better, for once he actually wants to get to know you as a person and not see you as just a loyal vampire. You find yourself seeking his company out when he doesnt request your presence, bringing your walls down little by little until he's known pretty much everything Thoma knew, and more. Thoma is excited for you, clasping your hands in his to congratulate you on your growing friendship with Ayato and the simple mention of the word has tears rolling down your smiling cheeks, you never thought you'd see the day your employers become your friends.

• Your friendship with Ayato would eventually become questionable when he caught Thoma mid yawn while sweeping the estate one evening. It wasnt uncommon that the housekeeper would lose a little sleep due to work, but the sight of a healing bite mark on his neck made Ayato's blood run cold. Once again, the shock of jealousy courses through him as he casually asks about the injury. "Oh, this? I gave y/n permission to freely feed from me if they become too tired to hunt. They just kinda took a little too much last night, heh". If Ayato were holding anything in his hand it would have snapped under the vice grip of his clench, smile never wavering as he dismisses Thoma to search for you instead. No amount of hydro would quell the fire that was burning in the pit of his stomach.

• You're changing the bedsheets in his room when he bursts through the door, startling you. "My Lord? Whats wrong?", you tilt your head in confusion, watching as he marches up to you and forces his thumb into your cheek, pulling the skin painfully back to expose your fang, his other thumb hooks into your lower jaw, pulling it down so he can get a clear view of the red that was still staining your teeth and tongue. The look in his eyes was dark as he took in the sight, ignoring the way you were whimpering in his hold, fingers grasping as his wrists yet not making a move to pull him off you, whatever Ayato wanted to do to you, you'd allow it. A few seconds of staring go by before he finally releases you, crossing his arms over his chest to furrow his brows. "So you fed from Thoma? Why's that?", his tone is cold, its the same one you've heard him use to representatives who hit a nerve. You saw the way they would shudder and tremble under its authority, the same way you shivered and felt a chill run up your spine as you rubbed your aching cheek.

• "Huh? He gave me permission... sir", you clear your throat, anxiety rolling through you in waves. Did you do something wrong by feeding from Thoma? You weren't aware that you couldnt feed from him, he wasn't a Kamisato after all so it shouldnt have broken the one strict rule that was enforced on you. Ayato studies you, lavender eyes going from your parted lips to your eyes and back while he gathers his thoughts, the silence only making you want to shrink more into yourself, fearful that you ruined all of the hard work put into getting closer to him. Realization flashes through his eyes for a split second before his face returns to its emotionless state. He takes a step closer to you, you take a step back. He takes a second step closer, you take a second step back until you stumble, falling back onto the plush covers you just laid out on his bed. "M-My Lord... I implore you, I haven't done anything wrong", you can feel the tears in the corners of your eyes, fear paralyzing you while Ayato continues to prowl closer, climbing over you so his face was inches away from yours. "The only thing you did wrong was not ask my permission to feed from me."

• Fear morphs into confusion as you take in his words, studying the look in his piercing gaze. The clouds fogging your mind seem to clear right then and there, the dawning epiphany that Ayato was viciously jealous melts the icy sensation of fear into something more primal. "But... My Lord... I'm forbidden", you whisper, eyes locked onto his while your fingers clench onto his bedsheets. He scoffs softly, hand coming up to pull his collar away from his skin, exposing more of his neck to you. He smirks finally, watching the way your eyes immediately train on his pale skin, how your pupils dilate with desire, bottom lip pulled inbetween your teeth. "Your Lord Kamisato Ayato commands you... to feed from him".

• You moan against his skin, hands pulling him impossibly close while you slowly gulp down mouthfuls of his blood, you had never tasted nectar so delicious in your entire existence. Ayato groans softly above you, face beautifully flushed while his bare hands explore your body, fingers running along every curve while his hips rut against your own, the venom in your bite making his head spin with lust. He takes no notice in the way his blood drips from your chin, or the way it stains his pristine suit, all he's focused on is getting your clothes off you as soon as fucking possible. You whine when he gently pulls you off him, warm blood being replaced by his warm tongue instead as he kisses you deeply, pulling your pants off you and practically tearing your underwear off while you fumble with his pants, trembling fingers struggling to undo his button. He pulls away from your lips with a chuckle, replacing your fingers with his own so he can quickly unbutton them and pull them down just enough to free himself from his restraints, a groan of relief making you shudder with need.

• A whimpering moan is ripped from you when he bullies his cock into you, thrusting shallowly until he bottoms out and stills for a few moments, allowing you to latch back onto his neck so you can continue to feed. You can barely swallow anything with how he sets a vigorous pace, pounding into you. Your screams and moans are muffled through his skin, biting down harder and eliciting a moan from him. He pushes your knees up, allowing him to push deeper into your walls and you finally pull away from his skin with a cry of his name, eyes unfocused. He fucks the jealousy out of his system, eyes never leaving your face, determined to commit your expressions to memory. "Thats right, only I can make you feel like this, ngh... From now on, ah, you're to feed from me only-hah! Is that understood?", he growls, the grip on the back of your knees bruising as you nod dumbly, eyes beginning to roll into the back of your head. "Y-Yes! Ah—yes, M-My Lord!".

• The next time Thoma sees Ayato, he's shocked when there's a bandage on his neck covering the bite you placed on him the previous night. "My Lord, are you alright?", he worries, brows knitting together at the implication that he somehow got hurt, even though it should have been practically impossible with you around. "Worry not Thoma, I gave y/n permission to feed from me, since you seemed to be out of it yesterday. By the way, they'll be coming to me for feedings in the future, so you don't have to worry about that either", Ayato smiles at Thoma, satisfaction practically radiating from the hydro allogene. "Is that so? Thank you for letting me know!", Thoma bows slightly, relieved that you'll have a stable source of blood here at the estate instead of having to go out and hunt. He begins to walk away before pausing at the sound of his master's words. "Oh, could you also bring some fresh sheets to my bedroom? We made a mess last night, be sure not to disturb y/n, they're still resting" .

#tombtales #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin impact hcs #genshin hcs #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact kamisato ayato #genshin kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato #genshin impact thoma #genshin thoma #thoma #genshin x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader

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thestraggletag · 4 months

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Gluttony, a RSS Fic

Surprise, @tickletorso, it is I, your Secret Santa! Here to wish you some early tidings of joy and bring a little smut to this festive season. I hope things there are ok (I read that the weather is awful right now, so I hope you're coping!) and that you're getting the finishing touches there for the holidays. Here is my present, which wrote itself so I absolve myself of any guilt regarding it. It just came out like that. Hope you enjoy, though!

Summary: Mr Gold had always fancied the idea of running into Belle French, the posh new town librarian, at an elegant party, wearing a designer dress and sitting next to him to share a fancy meal. The reality was, he had to admit, not quite how he had pictured it.

Ever since Regina Mills had won her first election as mayor of Storybrooke she had always had at least one scheme in the works. Her first success had been bringing back the Miner’s Day Festival, an inconsequential local celebration that, he had to admit, had turned out to be good to attract some nearby tourism. A few years later she had followed her initial hit with an expansion of the local hospital, a very popular idea by any measure, and later with the reopening of the local library. That last little bit had been good to boost real estate prices, so he had actually supported her actively. And just last year she had overseen the construction of a new playground, just in time for her adopted toddler son, a lovely little chap by all accounts, unlike his adopted mother, to enjoy it.

Sadly for the library, and the librarian, Regina’s love-affair with the public building had lasted about as long as it had taken her to understand what a drag keeping it open was to her carefully-curated budget. Royce Gold wasn’t really surprised about it. Regina tended to be, sadly, a bit short-sighted when it came to her ambitious pursuits, and dismissive of what no longer appealed to her.

Her latest scheme- some expensive vanity redecoration project aimed at “elevating” the town from solid middle-class to upper-middle-class or, even better, upper-class- had recently gone over budget, and Regina had not managed to bully the town council- bully him, mostly- to let her have use of discretionary funds. Instead, she had managed to divert funds allocated to fixing the library’s leaky roof to compensate for what money she was missing.

Royce didn’t care much about that latest obsession of hers. Motherhood had made her ruthless in the pursuit of the sort of perfection that was finally good enough for her wee bairn. Nevermind that Henry looked like a happy, healthy, well-adapted little chap who wasn’t lacking anything that a posher town could potentially offer. Regina, however, was blind to such things and had made the betterment of Storybrooke’s social class her newest quest. She had tried to approach him as an ally first, convinced that he would see the benefits of her way of thinking. She was wrong, of course. He didn’t see the appeal in turning the town into some cookie cutter suburban monstrosity. He rather liked Storybrooke the way it was. He had selected it specifically because of its inconsequential small-town charm, and saw no need to change that. He didn’t mind having to go out of town when he fancied something less mundane or to order from outside whatever extravagant tastes might strike his fancy. Storybrooke was sleepy and quiet, and though there was definitely room for improvement, he didn’t want to change the essence of it. Small, charming and sometimes even a bit unsavoury.

Places like The Rabbit Hole made him nostalgic for the run-down pubs he used to frequent back in Glasgow, when he was an uneducated street urchin with more ambition than sense. Regina didn’t see that in him, or chose to ignore it, thinking that whatever barbarism remained in him from his rough upbringing was a flaw he would be eager to cleanse or conceal, eager to welcome more people of “his class” in town to cover whatever filth still clung to him.

She was wrong, of course. Royce Gold wasn’t a man to lie to himself. He saw no point in it, no gain. He knew who he was, what he was. A bastard son of no one from the dodgy part of an already dodgy city. No polishing or education, both of which he had strived to get, would ever erase that, nor did he want it gone. He had grappled with the notion for years as he pulled himself out of misery one deal at a time, but he had learned to embrace it in the end. He could pretend, put on Armani and Brioni and enjoy a good bottle of Scotch, turning his head at the swill he had once upon a time guzzled down gladly, but inside he was still that small child who had grown up on the streets, grifting and fighting for whatever he wanted to own and keep. And he liked it. He liked the edge it gave him. How desperation and need had sharpened him, like a dagger.

The mayor was blind to it, but he knew well that a bit of savagery still clung to him, coiling beneath his expensive suits. He had just learned to channel it into deal-making and, perhaps, the very occasional bout of violence. Just a little beating here and there to relieve the stress, and only ever with good reason. Like that time he had rendered Keith Nott unconscious after he had found him accosting the librarian.

His thoughts turned towards her. Isabelle French. Belle French. Belle. Not a small town girl by any means, and yet, against all odds, she fit in perfectly. She was a strange gust of fresh air, ruffling the stale stillness of the town with her quirkiness and her cultured background. He knew a posh lass when he saw one and Belle French was definitely posh. A lavish wee bird, the kind that he had never been allowed near when he was young. Private-school educated, with a fancy degree from Cambridge and a rather expensive wardrobe. The kind that only people who knew quality could appreciate, no flashy branding or ostentatious touches. But he had an eye for beauty and quality, and could easily tell her clothing was too rich for most people’s blood. Her shoes alone were decadent, and her good taste he knew was acquired from a lifetime of being around the finer things in life. She had been to his shop and correctly identified several of the most valuable antiques, which would not have appeared so to the untrained eye.

And yet. And yet she had no trouble drinking with the miners, whose rough manners and bawdy jokes she took in stride and who she could, apparently, drink under the table. She had no trouble striking a friendship with Miss Lucas, whose outrageous fashion sense and reputation sometimes scared people away, or with Gus Souris, the shy mechanic who had a rather unearned reputation for aggression after Sidney Glass, who ran the local gossip rag on the side when he was not trying to look respectable as the editor of the Storybrooke Mirror, had blown a minor bar fight- where Mr Mius had been the victim- out of proportion in order to embellish a story. She also seemed intent on participating in all the trite small town affairs Storybrooke had to offer. She had carved a space for herself, in spite of her quirkiness, out of sheer force of will.

He had tried to tell himself at first that all he felt for her was admiration. For how she refused to cow to Regina, or pretended she didn’t understand Mother Superior’s unsubtle jibes at her reputation for wearing short skirts or hanging around undesirable people. Then he told himself that he was a man with eyes and as such he could recognise that Belle French was, objectively speaking, an attractive woman. In the way he liked the most, disarmingly wee, with reddish-brown hair and the bluest eyes he had ever seen. With a sort of effortless elegance that could not be feigned, or copied. She was gorgeous, and he had no problem admitting that. The sort of lass too good for the likes of him.

But at some point he had to come to the painful realisation it wasn’t just her looks. Belle French, if possible, was more beautiful on the inside than she was on the outside. Genuinely kind, volunteering at the animal shelter and lending her ear to whoever had a problem and her hand to anyone who needed help. And intelligent too, not just a bleeding heart with good intentions. With a unfeigned thirst for knowledge and almost obsessive when it came to books and all the wonders that they entailed. He had been smitten by their third conversation, and in love by their fifth. He had gotten a library card only so he could check out books in order to see her, though he had to admit that her book recommendations, along with the improvements she had made to the selection of books in the library, caught his attention as well.

Being in love with Belle French soon became the new normal for him and he told himself nothing needed to come out of it. Through some bizarre miracle the librarian seemed to consider him a friend and did not object to his sporadic visits to the library, often engaging him in conversation and keeping him for longer than he had planned to stay. And she visited him at his shop too, not necessarily to buy something but to inspect any new treasures he might have acquired. And, like the fool he was, he obliged her every time. It was nice, he told himself. And harmless. As long as he didn’t get any silly ideas about where their relationship stood and did not push things further than what was appropriate it would be fine.

He had so internalised his feelings that he barely felt a flutter in the pit of his stomach when he entered the library and saw Miss French shelving books, wearing a lovely Valentino dress in dark blue wool tweed, with flesh-coloured tights and a cardigan to ward off the chill, a wine-red hairband keeping her faintly-bronze curls off her face. Perfection, as always, and he could let himself admire it because he was in control of himself and his emotions.

He was. As long as he did her best to not look at her sleek Santoni ankle-length boots, of course. He knew his limits, after all, and his weaknesses. His disproportionate fondness for her shoes was the biggest chink in his armour.

Like always her eyes lit up when she saw him, a delightful smile spreading across her lips. She smelt like vanilla and bergamot, with a subtle aftertaste of jasmine, a perfect winter scent. He hoped that he was not smiling as hard as he felt he was.

“Mr Gold, how nice to see you! It’s been a while since you’ve ventured into my library. How are you?”

He liked how she called it her library, like that little possessive flair in her.

“I was about to ask you the same. I heard about Regina’s latest stunt and thought I would inquire as to how bad things are.” Anyone else would have likely accused him of behaving like a shark smelling blood in the water. But not Belle French.

“It’s kind of you to ask. I wish I could say the roof could keep for a couple of months till the next budgetary meeting, but it won’t last the winter. Marco confirmed it yesterday. I’ll have to get the cash quickly, somehow. I have a bit of a supplementary income”- he had always suspected so, given her clothes and shoes “but it’s nowhere near enough for something like this. And I have savings, but I’d hate to dip into them. My mamam always stressed the importance of having savings.”

Ah, yes, Colette French, who apparently had been, in fact, French. She had told him early on that she had passed when she was still young, and small stories about her. A lovely woman and a devoted mother, apparently. He rather envied her that.

“I-I might have an alternative for you, then. An offer.” He paused, wanting to get things right. Wanting to get his offer right. “I could, perhaps, be persuaded to lend you the money, at a reduced interest rate, something negligible. After all-” He paused, feeling like he was coming across as too eager- “The library is good for the town’s real estate. Keeping it open works in my best interest. It’s just good business, you see.” Yes, that was good. Sounded convincing and appropriately self-serving.

“That’s a lovely offer, but I’m not looking to make a deal.” Belle smiled up at him, with not one ounce of distrust or fear, which took a bit of the sting out of her rejection. “I’m picking up a temporary job that pays really well, so I’ll just have to dip into my savings a tiny bit, I’ll make it up in no time after the holidays.”

He flexed his fingers around the handle of his cane, feeling a sudden and acute rage towards Regina. The library had been her project, and as the mayor it was her responsibility to make sure the town’s buildings were properly maintained. And yet she got to swan around in pursuit of whatever new fad took her fancy and it was Belle French who had to sacrifice her time and effort to make sure Storybrooke got to keep and enjoy the many essential public services the library provided.

“As a librarian you’re paid by the town to work at the library, not the other way around. And your hours are already ridiculous, cannot imagine they leave much room for anything, let alone a side-gig.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. It’s temporary, and a friend’s father owns the business, so I know I’ll be comfortable. I know what the library means to the people around here, so I’ll do whatever I can to keep it open.”

Whatever she could, apparently, did not involve making a deal with him. Which he was not going to take personally. At all.

“It’s also not the first time I’m left scrambling for a bit of cash. Once, when I was in uni, my dad got into a bit of trouble so I got a gig as an Easter bunny for a private party. Which, I thought, would be rather charming. Only the costume was, to put it mildly, absolutely terrifying and no child wanted to get anywhere near me.”

She was a delightful storyteller, he had always thought so. Funny and engaging, both to the wee bairns that she read to several afternoons a week- he had memorised the storytime schedule so he could sneak in to “browse” and enjoy the cadence of her voice in the background as tots hanged on to her every word- and to adults. She leaned close as she told the story, pausing for dramatic effect at the right time and bursting into laughter at the end, pulling a reluctant bark of laughter out of him and looking delighted at having done so, a secretive little smile pulling at her lips. He would’ve called it flirty, if it hadn’t been directed at him.

“In the interest of looking to avoid you traumatising any more children, could I get you to reconsider my deal? It’d be the best one I’ve ever offered, some might say you’d be taking advantage of me. That would make you incredibly popular around here.”

She smiled, recognising his attempt at humour, but shook her head.

“I’ll be fine without it, I promise. Besides, I wouldn’t want a deal between us. It would… muddy things, don’t you think?”

“Of course.

He was still thinking about the library days later, as he sat behind a rented car making its way across upper Manhattan. A courageous little thing, with boundless optimism. Too good for the town she fought for and certainly too good for him. Which explained her rejection of his help. But at least that grounded him in reality, reminded him where they stood. No use longing for more.

With that finite thought he tried to relax and ready himself for the little soiree he was about to attend. He had dressed himself with care, knowing the subtle power play behind a well-tailored, black Kiton suit paired with an understated Gucci shirt and a bold tie and pocket square combo for a splash of brashness. It was his battle uniform, of as much use to him as his brass knuckles had been when he was a young lad. And to him this evening was akin to a fight.

Though people in Storybrooke thought his money came from his real estate portfolio and his profitable deals, those were mostly ways to maintain himself on top of the power structure of Storybrooke, above whatever elected official- Regina Mills, as of late- occupied the mayorship at the time. His real money came from deals, yes, but those he helped broker between companies behind closed doors in the business world. Some of the biggest mergers, take-overs or joint ventures of the past years had happened because he had acted as the middle-man, making the necessary introduction, ironing out the terms for both parties, smoothing over any perceived wrinkle. He used to actively seek those deals, when he was younger and looking to make his fortune. Nowadays he had to make himself attend a few society parties to be seen and perhaps approached, or at least partially propositioned, and he would decide later whether the deal was sweet enough for him to get involved in. Otherwise he would return to Storybrooke and bask in the simplicity of it. Another reason why he didn-t want things to change. He had sought the town out as a retreat from the corporate world, a place of escape where he could disappear until it was time to show up at another party.

He had come to this one mostly as a favour to the hostess. Corinne Deville was a longtime… frenemy, he supposed, who he kept in touch nowadays mostly so she could be his eyes and ears around the city. She knew everyone worth knowing on the island and her parties, at least, were never dull, stale business affairs. She liked to be a bit outrageous and had the money to pull it off. And she always had good booze and a lot of it, which was enticement enough. He rather thought a rooftop party in early December was a bit of a bold choice, but Corrie was like that, and the Peninsula Hotel, though not his first choice for a Manhattan stay, was acceptable.

He arrived fashionably late, so that everyone could see him as he came in. That way he didn’t need to do the rounds and he got to see who was looking at the entrance, as if waiting for someone, and swiftly turned around and avoided eye contact when they saw him, as if afraid to look too eager or interested. Those people would inevitably approach him at some point in the evening. All he had to do was get himself a drink, something to eat, and seat himself somewhere off to a side, looking vaguely approachable.

But first, he needed to greet the host. Corrie wasn’t one to play hard to get, thankfully, rather effusively swanning over to him to give him her customary two kisses on the air just next to his cheeks. She looked amazing, wearing a black-red orchid mermaid-style Alexander McQueen, with a voluminous stole to protect her naked shoulders from the nippy Manhattan winter air. She was clearly already drunk, yet she almost didn’t look it, managing to walk gracefully in spite of the alcohol and the cumbersome shape of her dress. He knew her too well not to notice the way her eyes were just a bit redder than usual, or the way her grip on her glass was just the slightest bit unstable. Besides, she was holding a Martini, which was usually her third drink, right after a Gimlet and a Tom Collins.

“Royce, dah-ling, so thrilled to have you join my little party.” She smiled, all teeth, like a predator showing its weapons, and ushered him to the bar. “I’ve ordered that expensive Scotch you like to drink, had it brought specially for you. Never say I don’t do things for you. And there is… a lovely and a bit risqué food arrangement, do try it. Some very good, very expensive sushi, with a rather spectacular presentation specially commissioned for this get-together.”

He glanced to a corner of the terrace, where he could see some tables laid out, with a rather large number of people around them.

“Some interesting antique set, perhaps?”

“Rather the opposite, dahling.”

She left him once they reached the bar and, almost against his will, he found himself curious as to what surprise Corrie had prepared for this particular evening. He asked for his Scotch, a 25-year-old Glenmorangie Signet that he hoped Corrie hadn’t blabbed about to anyone else, so he wouldn’t have to share- and sauntered over to the tables set up with the sushi, noticing again the inordinate amount of people lingering around them. Most of them, he noticed, were men.

He understood then when he spotted a foot peeking from behind a wall of people, naked and attached to what looked like an equally-naked calf. He got the gist of it right away. After all, it was hardly a novelty, though he couldn’t recall ever attending a party where sushi had been served in such a way. It was Nyotaimori, the practice of serving sushi on top of a naked woman, a fad from the 60’s born from the economic bonanza of the era in Japan and inspired by some much older Japanese food-play practices having to do with sake rather than sushi. Rather trite, in his opinion, but allowed for a bit of harmless titillation without it actually being very boundary-breaking. Something right up Corrie’s ally, risqué enough to make her party memorable but not too taboo that would get her exiled from the Manhattan social scene.

He grabbed a plate and slowly made his way along the tables, barely seeing the skin on display. It didn’t interest him much, though he was glad to see the entire thing was done in a rather tasteful fashion, with not only the bare bits of modesty guaranteed but also with somewhat of an artistic flair. The models’ important areas were covered by lovely bits of greenery and flowers- and bless Corrie for avoiding the mistletoe and holly typical of the season in favour of something less hackneyed- but there was a theme and a colour palate, with bits of the skin on displayed painted to imitate the swirling brushstrokes of vaguely-oriental designs in different shades, depending on the model.

A glint of gold caught his eye as he added his twelfth piece of sushi to his plate, a model painted in delicate shades of his namesake and blue, which, along with her creamy complexion, reminded him of a porcelain tea set he had at his shop. The colour palate complimented her hair rather nicely, a rather fetching shade of red-brown that reminded him of Belle French.

Rather a lot, actually.

Come to think of it, the model’s softly-blushed skin was also the exact shade of the librarian’s. And she also had a beauty mark on her left inner-thigh, close enough to her knee to be seen when she wore some of her more flirty skirts during spring and summer. He staggered close, almost losing his grip on his plate, his eyes refusing to acknowledge what they were seeing as truth. It was fucking Belle French. Naked. On top of a table. With delicious food spread over her, ready to be plucked and eaten. Surreptitiously, Royce pinched himself. No, not a dream. Sounded a lot like a dream, but no.

After the initial shock wore off- and he managed to pull himself together the slightest bit- he forced himself to think about his choices. Should he approach her? Would it be awkward, would she be embarrassed? He didn’t want to shame her in any way, especially given that this was clearly the temp gig she had gotten to help pay for repairs to the library. And what would it mean for their future relationship? Would this damage whatever small relationship they had? He rather liked their little talks and their small everyday interactions. But she might not want to interact with him much at all if she knew he had seen her naked.

As straight-out-of-his-fucking-fantasies a naked Belle French on top of a table slattered with food was, it was not worth risking the everyday Belle French he got to enjoy every day. She hadn’t spotted him yet, so he could quietly slip away and she would be none the wiser. She seemed distracted by the people around her, mostly young men, circling her like vultures, spending too much time deciding on what piece of sushi to take, pretending to be musing over the selection while their eyes drifted towards her covered breasts. Insolent little things, trying to engage her in talk while the librarian struggled not to make eye contact and keep a placid expression without making it look like she was inviting their advances. She was also trying not to fidget as a man used his chopsticks to try and move a leaf covering her lower right breast under the guise of trying to pick a piece of nigiri. Where the fuck was Corrie and why was she letting something like that happen? Hadn’t any of those wannabe executives learned basic manners? Or the barest notion of consent?

The cherry on top of that absolute clusterfuck was a tall, brawny fellow- someone’s favoured son, no doubt, the lad didn’t look like he could count to ten by himself-, some junior VP that distantly rung a bell, pretending to be too clumsy with the chopstick to try and pick up a piece of maki with his bare hands. The moment he saw Belle flinch at the touch of the man’s fingers he decided that enough was really enough. His cane came out a second later, smacking the offending hand away as he told the eejit, in his most Scottish tone, to keep his hands to himself. The idiot looked like he was going to protest before he realised whose cane that was. Looking like he would rather be chewing glass, but also like he might be shitting his pants, the oaf apologised, quickly scurrying off. He smiled with thinly-veiled satisfaction, setting his cane back by his side.

“Mr Gold?”

He turned to look at Miss French, making sure his eyes never strayed from her face, both to convey that he was not looking at her nude body and to try and read carefully any emotion flickering across her eyes. She didn’t look uncomfortable, to his surprise, at least not more than she had before she had noticed him there. Rather she looked cheery, as she always did with him, and more than a bit relieved. He noticed that most other youngsters fluttering around her had gone along with the big lummox, likely scared off by his presence.

“It’s so lovely to see you!”

“It is?”

The librarian laughed, one of her hands reaching out to touch his on top of his cane.

“Of course. Under rather peculiar circumstances, but it’s nice to see a familiar face here.”

And of course it was. She was naked in a party full of strangers, some of them entirely devoid of manners. Seeing a familiar face, someone who could intercede in her favour since she was limited in her actions by her circumstances, was a comfort. And to have someone like him, who could instil fear into people’s hearts even more so. Which meant he had to stay. He could not leave her exposed to whatever lech or overconfident idiot who decided to let his small prick do the thinking.

“It is rather lovely to see you, Miss French. I do so enjoy our talks, and I had resigned myself to a rather dull evening of empty platitudes and boring business talk. Would you mind if I sat next to you?”

She didn’t seem to object, her eyes reflecting pleasure instead of panic, though she did glance around and confessed she wasn’t supposed to talk to the guests.

“Corrie won’t mind, she’ll be delighted I’m sticking around for longer than I intended. Don’t worry.”

It took him a moment to signal for a waiter to get him a chair, sitting right next to the librarian’s head, his glass of Scotch by her hip and his plate of sushi in his hands. He sat himself at an angle so that he could both look at her in the eye and also glare at any passerby that even thought about approaching Belle, a bit like an old dragon guarding his hoard or, if he tried to look at things in a more benign way, guarding the fair princess. He had amassed a fearsome enough reputation with the present crowd to foresee little trouble staking his claim.

He had prepared himself for an awkward evening, telling himself he would endure the discomfort for Miss French’s own ease, but he had been mistaken. It was surprisingly easy to “get over” her nudity. Being so close to Belle while she was wearing nothing- with bits of her bare skin painted the colour of his namesake- was still intoxicating as hell, but he managed to quickly reign in that sensation and store it somewhere in his subconscious to deal with it at a later date- no doubt in nightly fantasies for weeks, if not months, to come.

He had always thought her attractive to the point of distraction, but it was her mind and her conversation that had always kept him coming back. It was lovely to have her “all to himself” for so long. Their library interludes were always cut short by a patron or some crisis, and she tended to visit his shop during her brief afternoon break right before school ended, which meant she could never stay for longer than twenty minutes. But here she was free, with no one to claim her time and attention but himself, and after a few failed attempts at starting a conversation- she was nude, after all, and he could not imagine himself being very socially graceful in her position- she managed to engage him in a light-hearted discussion about books, starting with a ranking of books by Thomas Hardy based on how depressive they were, both agreeing to put in first place Tess D’Urbervilles but squabbling good-natured about second place. He maintained the honour went to The Woodlanders, while she argued strongly in favour of Jude, the Obscure.

It was a much more engaging discussion than it had any right to be, mostly thanks to the librarian’s sincere passion for the subject, combined with her extensive knowledge. He saw how effortlessly cultured she was, and how at ease she was amongst the wealthy and privileged, even while wearing nothing but a skimpy thong and some strategically-placed foliage and paint. A posh bird like had often admired from afar as a lad, a perfect fit among the Upper East side crowd around them. And yet she wasn’t snobbish like a lot of them where, or like one would expect someone like her to be. She wasn’t putting on airs or feigning interests. She was as she presented herself to be, her manners effortless instead of artificially refined and her intellect sharp from curiosity rather than a need to boast. But it was her generous spirit what was more fetching about her. A sincere concern for anyone that crossed her path, from a drunk miner to a grumpy, misanthrope pawnbroker who no one else liked.

Even when he attempted to do something for her- it was cold out, so he managed to talk a poor waiter into bringing some of the spare braziers he knew the hotel had in abundance and had distributed generously already to the nearby tables were people were sitting and talking, so that she would be more comfortable. She had thanked him and immediately insisted that she didn’t need as many as he wanted to light around her, telling him to distribute them amongst the other living displays as well.

“It’s not fair that they should go cold just because they don’t have a guardian angel to look after them like I do.”

Time passed without him noticing. He waved away the few people stupid enough not to correctly read his body language and try to approach him for conversation, having decided that it wasn’t a night prime for dealmaking like he had previously intended. Instead it was a night for talking about literature and the places they had been, recalling anecdotes from their college years and in general sharing bits about their lives. It was the most he had ever shared of himself with another person, more intimate than Belle’s nudity. She told him about her mother, and how she had come from money. Old money. But she had fallen in love with an Aussie with more ambition than wealth, and had moved to the ends of the world to be with him. Later he had proven himself, building a successful business and allowing her a childhood spent half in Australia and half in Europe with her mom and her grandparents.

But Moe French’s entrepreneurial spirit did not survive his wife’s death, and so he had let his business languish. Her mother, who had fretted for her only daughter’s future during the last months of her life, had set up a considerable trust fund, which had allowed her to go to college in England for her undergrad and graduate degree. And later, when her mother’s parents had passed away, she had inherited a modest investment portfolio, which accounted for the few luxuries she allowed herself as a small town librarian.

He, in turn, shared as much as he could stomach about his rather sordid upbringing. An unwanted mongrel, son of a mother who he never knew and a father he would rather forget. Left behind by both at a young age, to beg, borrow and steal a life for himself. It wasn’t until he had come into contact with distant relatives- two of his father’s cousins, who lived modestly but honestly outside of Glasgow, that he had been given a chance to settle, to get an education. Still, he had learned bad habits that had been difficult to break and he had continued with them in his new life, brawling for cash, gambling and doing unsavoury jobs to raise the money needed to get his law degree. It should have made him uncomfortable to expose their stark differences in upbringing and breeding, but there was nothing but understanding and compassion in Belle’s eyes, something he would’ve mistaken for pity if he didn’t know her well.

“Thank you for sharing all of that with me. It must not have been easy.”

They were so enthralled in their own little world that they both startled when they began to clear the tables in preparation for dessert. It was to be a selection of fruits and tarts, served in the same style.

“But before there’ll be a bit of a break, mostly so that us models can walk about a bit and freshen up. Will you be here when I come back?”

The way she said it, with a hopeful lilt, looking at him from beneath her lashes, had him nodding effusively. Wild horses could not drag him away. He did think the idea of walking around sounded good, and he wanted to refresh his drink. While he was at the bar he had the idea to request a glass of ice water and a straw, so he could offer Belle a drink if she was thirsty while she worked. While he waited, not minding that the bartender was a bit busy at the moment, he felt someone approach from behind, one boney, well-manicured hand sliding up his shoulder. He smelt smoke, and considered himself lucky that the hand currently slipping something into the pocket of his suit jacket wasn’t the one holding Corrie’s trademark long cigarette holder.

“I’m so thrilled you’re still here, darling. And given how you’ve been spending the evening so far I thought I would give you a present. One you’ll like, for a change.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, knowing Corrie was looking intently at him, he fished whatever she had put into his pocket out. It was a sleek keycard, one from the Peninsula.

“As an admirer of fine, beautiful things I thought you might want a more… private setting where to study your latest find. I would not usually condone it, but she seemed so willing, so strangely… receptive of your attention, that I thought it might not go amiss to get you a room for the night. You know, just in case you’re too tired or hungover to go back home safely, of course.”

He could see her grin out of his peripheral vision, something feral with a hint of madness that summed up Corinne perfectly. He rolled his eyes, affecting an unaffected manner, knowing it would piss her off not to get a rise out of him.

“Corrie, I wish you’d stop after the fifth drink. Once you get into the gin tonics you grow somewhat fanciful.”

“Be that way. Keep your secrets. I’m not here to interrogate you, dear. Just doing my one good deed of the year before time runs out. I was cutting it rather close.”

With that she sauntered off, but he paid her no mind. Let her think whatever she wanted. He knew it wasn’t like what she was implying with Belle. They were just two friends, or friendly acquaintances, though perhaps that was too distant in light of all the bits of themselves they had shared with each other that night. But still, nothing like Corrie was suggesting, nothing unseemly, just two people having a friendly and thoughtful con-

Fuck.

Belle was back. They had laid her down on her stomach this time around, a few gauzy bits of nothing covering her incredible ass from his view, her head pillowed in her arms, which meant he could see the soft curve of the side of a small, perfect breast. Along her delicate spine and sloping shoulders someone had arranged bits of fruit, bombons and bite-sized tarts. He narrowed his eyes, swearing he could hear Corinne’s shrill laughter in the background.

He took a deep breath, shaking his head. He was not some slobbering animal. And Belle was a lady. He would keep it together, would march there and pretend nothing was amiss. Would not give the perfection before him a second glance. When he sat down he focused on Belle’s face, the way her eyes lit up when she spotted him, no doubt grateful to have her protector return and keep the mannerless young men from before at bay. When he offered her some water, shyly, she beamed at him, as if he had offered her the moon.

“You’re so kind, Mr Gold. And such a gentleman.”

His ears burned at hearing Belle fucking French, with her exotic accent and posh manners, call him a gentleman. He had to force himself not to preen.

“Please, call me Royce.”

“Only if you call me Belle, as I’ve told you to do before.”

She gratefully sipped at the water offered, making a pleased sound in the back of her throat that threatened to go straight to his groin. Thankfully he was sitting down, which allowed him a bit of coverage. With herculean effort he sought to resume their conversation, which had moved on to a rather spirited debate on the merits of the different adaptations of Around the world in 80 days.

They were in the middle of comparing Cantinflas and Eric Idle’s Passepartouts when the librarian fidgeted the slightest bit, looking uncomfortable.

“What’s the matter? Are you unwell? Do you need me to call someone?”

Belle sighed, shaking her head.

“I’m just hungry. They had to retouch my body paint a lot when I took a break, so I never got to eat any of the power bars I brought specially for that purpose. And it’s not helping that whatever they’ve put on me smells rather heavenly. It’s strange to be literally brimming with food and yet unable to eat.”

He had to agree with her about the food. It smelled amazing, the bombons nestled inside foil wrappers to protect them from her skin’s warmth- warmth he was very specifically trying hard to think about– and the pieces of fruit, cut and arranged into fanciful, artistic shapes, glistened in the dim light of the terrace, looking beyond succulent.

“I could- I could feed you if you wish. It’d be no problem.”

‘It’d be all sorts of problems, but oh so worth it.’

“Oh, you wouldn’t mind? Because that would be lovely.”

“What would you like?”

“I saw some lovely raspberry tarts and some Royce nama chocolate squares that looked amazing. Just not dark chocolate please, I can’t stand it.”

“More for me then.”

Gingerly, making extremely sure he did not touch her skin at all if possible, he picked up a few selections of sweets, arranging them into a plate so she could pick and choose what she wanted. When she made a selection he made sure to hold it out to her so she could bite into it without worrying about his fingers, though he still felt the phantom touch of her breath on his skin even when he tried his best to get himself out of the way. It was a heady, altogether surreal experience: the closeness, the trust, the implied intimacy of the gesture. A dream fucking come true, as far as Royce was concerned, the single most erotic moment of his life and it was happening in public. He had come to the party with the intention of testing the waters for new deals and he would leave it empty-handed and yet a changed man.

‘Best. Night. Ever.’

But as nice as it was, it couldn't last forever. He tried to pretend at first he did not see the signs, the way the crowd around them began to dwindle down, the waiters passing around with trays laden with champagne flutes, offering a “last round”. The writing was on the wall even before he saw the first of the “living displays”, the one closest to the exit, being taken away. Still, neither moved or made a comment about things coming to an end, not even when Belle was the last model left out.

At some point, however, they had to acknowledge that something was happening, because the waiters were beginning to clear the tables, the bar was getting ready to close, and no one had come for Belle. She seemed puzzled by it, but he imagined it had something to do with the fact that no one had wanted to bother him. Perhaps Corrie had said something, or perhaps his reputation had done the talking. Either way it was unacceptable that Belle be made to wait, exposed in cold weather that no amount of heaters could nullify, for someone to finally come get it. He proposed he get his long overcoat so she could drape it around herself and he would escort her then back to wherever she had left her clothes and things, so that she wouldn’t have to walk around half-naked alone.

He loathed to leave her, but there was no choice. He hurried to the coat room, commanding the attention of the poor sod running up and down fetching coats, and managed to get his long Zegna cashmere coat in no time. Pleased with his expedience he rushed back, pausing when he noticed that something wasn’t right. Belle was still in the far corner of the terrace where he had left her, but she had scrambled to a sitting position on the table, using the white tablecloth she had been lying on to cover herself as much as possible as a tall man- the lumbering idiot from hours before, now clearly drunk off his arse- leaned close to her, one hand gripping one of her naked forearms. She was trying to shake him off, her body language screaming her discomfort and unease, but she was clearly reluctant to make a scene, the power imbalance working against her.

Thankfully it wasn’t working against him. He felt no restraint or compunction when the urge to do violence overtook him. Thankfully he had, as always, a handy weapon as his disposal. It took one sweep of his cane, once he was close enough, to get the idiot away from her, the surprise at the unexpected blow to his side making him let go of Belle before staggering back a few paces. A few more blows had him first on his knees and later sprawled out on the floor, and only Belle’s gentle hand on the back of his jacket got him to put his cane down. With enviable nonchalance he signalled for a passing waiter, letting him know that the poor bloke on the floor had had a bit too much to drink and should be scraped off the floor and put into a cab as soon as it could be arranged.

“Right away, sir. Thank you for letting me know.”

He tried not to gloat as three people were called away from clearing the nearby tables to pick up the unfortunate young man, no one making a comment as they dragged the lummox away. Good fucking riddance. Realising that he still held his coat in his hands he turned around and swiftly draped it around Belle, noticing with pleasure that, though she had had a front scene to his violent outburst, she didn’t shy away from his touch. Rather the contrary.

“Are you alright? Was he bothering you for long? Did he say something inappropriate?”

“No, nothing like that. He was just not taking no for an answer, and looked drunk enough to try to do something stupid out in public. Thank you for taking care of him.”

Fuck, it was doing things to him that a prim and proper lass like Belle French was thanking him for behaving in a less than gentlemanly manner. Right out of his fantasies as a lad, the idea of a posh bird that would revel in his most coarse manners, in the violent habits he had had to acquire at an early age. It all threatened to go to his head or, even worse, his groin, so he forced himself to push it to the side and concentrate on Belle's immediate wellbeing. Wrapped up as she was in his coat- and fuck, did she nuzzle the lapel and take a deep breath, as if smelling his cologne in the collar of his coat?- she was clothed enough to get off the table and walk out of the terrace. He accompanied her past what was clearly a staging area for the models, given the remnants of body paint and the leaves and petals strewn on the floor, until they arrived at a large room with screens in the corners, clearly where the models had first disrobed. Only one bag was left, a Jackie Smith tote he recognised as Belle’s. He glanced around, noticing there was no place to shower, just some baby wipes packets with which he gathered the models were supposed to wipe the paint off their bodies before putting their clothes back on. Which wouldn’t do, really. Not at all.

“I-I have a room. Here at the hotel. With a shower.”

She stood there, looking waifish and small in his oversized coat, with paint still on her skin and her hair in disarray, yet even then there was an air of understated elegance about her, something in the way she carried herself. Himself, on the other hand, could not boast the same, feeling like he was sweating as he waffled on about how he got the hotel key as a prank but now she could put it to good use to shower and relax, perhaps charge ungodly amounts of room service. It would serve Corrie right to have her little joke backfire on her like that and-

He paused when he noticed how much closer Belle was than a second before. She was looking up at him with something akin to… expectation, almost, and clutching the sleeve of his suit jacket, almost afraid he would take off. There was a patience to her look, as if she was trying to coerce a shy deer to eat from her hand, and Royce’s eyes narrowed, a puzzle slowly unravelling in his mind. He recognised that look, she had worn it often around him as of late, something tinged with affectionate exasperation, as if she was waiting for him to figure something out, something that should be obvious. A nagging voice that had been whispering in the back of his mind now started yelling, telling him he was an idiot for not seeing what was right in front of him.

Could she… could she fancy him? Was that possible? Was he just so fucking dense and self-loathing that he hadn’t realise Belle fucking French was coming onto him? That she had been for a while? It sounded too much like wishful thinking to be true, but there was also no other way to account for how close the librarian was standing to him, how hopeful she seemed as she looked up at him. He froze, unwilling to accept the reality in front of him and yet unable to deny it.

Thankfully for Royce the librarian seemed to notice and understand his inner turmoil, a soft look overtaking her face before she slowly, carefully, leaned into him, standing on her tippy toes to reach him and making sure he had more than enough time to pull away in case her advances were unwelcomed.

No fucking chance of that.

The magnetic pull of her, in the end, overcame his deep-seated denial, pushing him forward, his attention drifting towards her mouth, so laser-focused on the heat and the scent radiating from her that he almost forgot where they were.

Almost.

When he did, he pulled away, babbling about how this wasn’t a private enough place for her to kiss him while wearing nothing but his overcoat. His self-restraint only went so far and his control had been close to breaking the whole evening. If she kissed him he would not be able to stop. It was a shameful confession, but Belle barely batted an eye, looking briefly deep in thought before she took one of his hands in hers.

“You mentioned you had a room, right?” He nodded dumbly, unwilling to connect the dots himself and assume she was saying what he thought she was saying. “Maybe that would be a better place for this?”

There was no mistaking her meaning, not even for someone like Royce Gold, for whom denial was an Olympic event. When she tugged at his hand he didn’t fight her, hopeless to do anything but follow behind her, vaguely dazed, having only enough presence of mind to offer to carry Belle’s bag, which she politely declined. The elevator ride seemed to take forever, even though they were going down only one floor. Corrie had given him one of the best rooms in the hotel. She never half-assed things and wasn’t known for being cheap.

He held it together till the hotel door was firmly shut behind them, at which point he pounced on her, restraint and decorum entirely absent after four fucking hours of close, unrelenting contact with a naked Belle French. He had been good, so good, but they were behind closed doors and Belle had made it clear that she was not opposed to his advances, so whatever disguise of gentlemanliness he had created over the years was now in tatters and only the unpolished, savage beast from Glasgow remained, intent on quenching its thirst on her. He pressed her up against the hotel door, his mouth eagerly seeking hers out, pleased when she opened herself up to him eagerly, her hands going around his shoulders so they could tangle in his hair. She felt amazing against him, soft and pliant, smelling faintly of something fruity and a scent that was uniquely hers, a mixture of vanilla and the smell of a new book. It was intoxicating, and so he pressed closer, the hand not clutching his cane for dear life wrapping around her waist, resenting the fact that he could not touch her directly. He had relished the fact that she had been wrapped in his coat only minutes ago, when they were outside and she was shivering. But the room they were now in was cosy and warm, with an artificial gas fire crackling nearby. There was, therefore, no need for the librarian to remain bundled so he tugged at the fastened buttons of his coat, humming in pleasure when it was Belle herself that reached down to undo them, shimming out of the outfit altogether a second later.

He could feel her then, gloriously nude but for a scrap of skin-coloured fabric covering her cunt, soft as he had always imagined she would be, skin like silk beneath his fingertips. She didn’t seem to mind her lack of clothing, didn’t shy away from his hands or his lips when he began to explore her throat and the gentle slope of her right shoulder. She was delightfully responsive beneath him, making the softest, most devastating noises as he nipped at bits of flesh, taking care to avoid the big swatches of skin covered by the gold and blue paint.

“You don- Oh, dear Lord- you don’t have to worry about the paint. It’s edible.”

“Come again?”

He couldn’t possibly have heard her correctly.

“Yes it’s-” She sighed when he caressed her spine- “It’s chocolate paint. For safety, mostly, in case the food came into contact with it.”

He blinked, pausing a second to take stock of the situation. He was in a lavish hotel room with Belle French, who was basically naked and, apparently slathered in strategically-placed swirls of chocolate paint. And they were making out like wild beasts. This was beyond his wildest dreams, so far-fetched that it could not possibly be a figment of his imagination. Even his subconscious had limits. Reality, apparently, didn’t.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” His Scottish brogue, reasserting itself as a result of the drink, the lateness of the hour and how absolutely out of his mind he was with lust, made him slur his words. “Fucking minx, been teasing me the whole bloody night. So gorgeous, so lovely to an old monster like me…”

He lost himself in the feel and smell of her, feeling starved for every bit of her he could kiss and touch. She was perfect, everything about her the right size and feel for him, as if she had been made to fit him. Her skin felt warm and soft beneath her tongue, the taste of her pairing well with the taste of chocolate from the paint, and she was delightfully responsive, no pretence or air of artifice in her as she pulled at his hair and whimpered helplessly. There was also no faking the delicious wetness between her legs, the scrap of fabric that was her flesh-coloured thong drenched to the touch.

“Take me to bed.”

He had dreamed about Belle French telling him just that, but not even his wildest dream could have conjured up the reality of it, the way she sighed it, her hands grabbing handfuls of his hair to drag his ear against her mouth, the way it was both a plea and an order. He hastened to comply either way, manoeuvring both of them down the small hallway to the suite, where the king-sized bed stood pride of place. In the small journey there he had somehow lost his dinner jacket, the librarian’s nimble hands working on his tie, undoing the Eldredge knot with an ease that had him imagining her, wearing nothing but one of his shirts, kneeling on his bed and tying his tie, a lovely little domestic tableau with implications that set his blood on fire.

The bed at the Peninsula had standard, if luxurious, white bedding, nothing quite like his burgundy sheets and cream damask comforter, but he barely registered any of it. His senses were full of Belle, who managed to half-shove him into the bed, swiftly climbing on top of him before he could complain about their separation. She sought his mouth immediately, her fingers sinking into his hair to change the angle of the kiss just so. When she let go he whimpered, immediately missing the scratch of her nails against his scalp, but he quieted when he realised she was undoing the buttons of his shirt, having finally done away with his tie and, apparently, his belt. Crafty little thing, this lass, devious beneath her prim and proper facade. And all his, his to kiss and touch, to lay down the bed, legs dangling from the edge while he dragged that little scrap of lace generously called underwear, allowing him to see her in all of her glory. She was every bit as perfect as he had imagined, and so smooth. She was almost entirely devoid of hair from the waist down, a small strip of soft curls the only thing left.

“So lovely.”

She was. Lush curves, smooth skin and the irresistible lure of unfettered enthusiasm. The moment he put his mouth on her she was like a livewire, practically vibrating beneath his touch, the tension and energy in her impossible to ignore. It made him feel powerful, and more than a bit smug, to know that a woman like her, who could have anyone with a look and a gesture, was trembling with barely-repressed desire because his tongue was lapping at her cunt, his hands curling around her thighs, teasing the edges of her labia. None of the young, rich assholes that had circled her like vultures before he had seen her had interested her, only him, old and crippled as he was.

It wasn’t long before he felt her tense even further, her back bowing in a perfect arc and her whimpers turning into loud moans. He thought briefly about denying her the pleasure she was building towards, to drag things out to heighten the sensations, but soon came to the conclusion he didn’t have the self-control to deny her. So when he felt her tumble close to the edge he sunk two fingers into her, the heat and pressure making his already hard cock ache. He was not going to survive her. Thankfully she came just as he thought he was going to lose the last shreds of his composure, her cries distracting him from his more pressing needs. She was beautiful when she came, as far away from the composed, prim lass he was used to seeing, wild and uninhibited. A magnificent sight to behold, one he tried hard to prolong for as long as possible. Eventually, sadly, she grew slack, almost boneless, one hand lazily combing his hair, as if he was some pampered pet who had done a good thing. The feeling was exhilarating.

“Mmmmh, that was…” she sighed, her nails scratching against the sensitive skin of his nape. “Wonderful.”

He smiled against the supple skin of her thigh, feeling smug, like he often did after a beneficial deal being signed. He didn’t even care that he was so hard it bordered on painful, not when he could smell Belle, feel her warmth and revel in the knowledge that he had made her come apart.

“I’m cold. Come up here?”

The hand petting his hair tugged on it, leading him to crawl over to the bed after quickly discarding his pants and socks and, after a deep breath for courage, his underwear. He pretended not to notice Belle staring at his cock as he climbed on top of her, trying to distract himself with the feeling of her hands as they explored his naked back, pausing every time they encountered a scar. He had amassed a small collection of them, mostly in his late teens and early twenties, knife wounds and a couple made with glass. They were all faded, the only one standing out being the curved one on his side, product of a rusty blade he had mostly-but-not-quite managed to dodge, and the one on his right shoulder. That one had gone in deep but hadn’t been able to hit anything major.

“Do any of them hurt?”

Belle’s voice was soft, her eyes wide and the slightest bit watery, likely imagining the pain he must have gone through to acquire each of his marks. He shook his head quickly, wanting to reassure them.

“No.” He paused, wondering if saying anything further would be oversharing. But she had to know. It would be a factor if things… progressed. “My ankle does, sometimes. When it’s raining, or I’ve been overexerting it.”

To her credit she didn’t even try to glance down, her focus entirely on his face, likely trying to read any signs of discomfort that might appear there. He kissed the hand that went to cup his face, for once not mistaking compassion for pity.

“Are you comfortable?”

At that he smirked and, daringly, he ground his hips against hers, bringing her attention to his rather desperate state.

“Not really, but my ankle doesn’t hurt, if that’s what you were asking.”

He was rewarded by a genuine laugh, easing whatever leftover bit of self-consciousness he might still have felt. He leaned down to capture her mouth, eager to devour her whole. She was delicious, still tasting of the raspberry tart he had hand-fed her, and something uniquely hers, which he had already tasted when he had delved his tongue into her cunt. But now he could also feel her beneath him, all the soft curves he had dreamed about pressing against him, her body cradling his like he was something precious. Beneath the buzzing of adrenaline and the thrill of his desires coming true there was an undercurrent of safety he was surprised to feel. He was safe with her, he knew this innately. Safe from judgement or ridicule, safe to expose those parts of him that were weak or ugly without feeling like he was ceding the high ground, leaving himself open to an attack. And that small undercurrent of safety, somehow, heightened everything else he was feeling. Allowed him to let go.

“I can practically hear you thinking, you’re doing it so loud.”

Belle’s voice, throaty from her screaming earlier, sent a shiver down his spine. He burrowed his head against her breasts, anchoring himself in the moment, and apologetically kissed the skin there. One kiss turned to two, and before he knew it he was taking one of her rosy nipples into his mouth and sucking reverently on it, like he had often imagined doing in his own home, usually after a few drinks. She was wonderfully responsive, squirming in the most delightful way, each movement sending sharp spikes through his groin and reminding him that if he didn’t manage to do something about it he was liable to explode. Luckily his lass was bold and brass, and the sort to take charge, and so when he was distracted by her lovely breasts- just the right size for his hands, and so, so soft- she moved one hand down to grasp him firmly and, with the help of a bit of shimmying, guide him to her entrance.

“Oh, fuck, I forgot to ask about…” She hissed when a startled movement made him bump her clit with the tip of his cock. “Protection. I-I mean, I’m clean and on the pill but if you want-”

He had no doubt that there were condoms in the room. It had been, after all, paid for by Corrie to unsubtly encourage him to fuck someone silly in it. The drawers of both nightstands were probably chock full of them, likely in all colours and sizes, and it would take but a moment to crawl over either one to grab what he needed. But the thought of feeling her fully was too good to pass up.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m clean too. Can I- can I really…?”

He couldn’t finish the phrase, nor take that last plunge, but before he could try to shake himself out of his stupor she draped her legs around his hips, hooking her feet right in the dip where his spine met his ass, nudging him rather unsubtly forward till he was, blessedly, balls deep into her, his cock enveloped by silky, wet heat that had him almost coming right then and there. He gritted his teeth and almost bit his tongue off in an effort to not shame himself, body tense for another reason entirely as he fought to control himself. It seemed to take forever but eventually he began to thrust, first tentatively, afraid of hurting her or discovering he hadn’t quite gotten it together as he hoped he had, but need, that itch that was growing to rule every instinct he had, slowly pushed him to go faster, to thrust harder. Belle met him move for move, canting her hips forward, her nails digging into his back in a way that should have felt painful but only enhanced the pleasure building up inside of him. She was, like before, delightfully vocal, and disarmingly demanding, telling him to go harder, to give her more.

“Insatiable little minx,” he grunted, trying not to stare at her breasts as they bounced with the force of their actions. If he got distracted he ran the risk of spending himself inside her without bringing her to orgasm at least one more time and that was unacceptable. “You’ll be the death of me.”

It felt a little bit like he was on the brink of death, of a pleasure so acute it was indistinguishable from pain. His hard-earned self-control was close to snapping and only his pride was keeping him going. Desperate to feel her flutter around him he braced his upper body on his left arm and both his knees, leaving his right hand free to trail down her stomach and dip in-between her thighs, looking for that bit of flesh that he had previously only touched with his lips and tongue. He let her cries guide his fingers, letting her gasps and keens set the pace as he stroked her slowly at first, increasing the tempo and the pressure in response to her needy demands. Finally she tensed beneath him, back arching in a perfect bow as she came, loud and uninhibited, her cunt gripping him tight as it spasmed, the feeling too much for him to bear. His orgasm was quieter, his groans muffled by her hair and skin as he pressed his head against the crook of her shoulder and spilled himself into her for what seemed like forever, a catharsis that felt both physical and mental.

Afterwards he had enough sense to collapse to the side instead of falling bonelessly on top of Belle like he had wanted to. His heart was pounding a mile a minute, and he felt cold and clammy, but a second later Belle was cuddling up to him, draping a leg over his, making sure to keep her feet away from his ankle. He drew her close, greedily seeking out her warmth and the reassurance she brought. He dared drape an arm around her, his fingers ghosting up and down one of her exposed arms.

“Any complaints?”

He kept his tone light, flippant even, but he paid attention closely to her face, trying to read her expression. She looked dishevelled and delightfully smug, satisfaction oozing out of her, stretching out like a cat in a sunspot, but then frowned, her nose wrinkling a bit. He tensed, preparing himself for whatever had put that look in her face. Maybe she was having second thoughts already?

“I’m sticky.”

“Come again?”

“From the edible paint and your valiant efforts to rid me of it. Don’t misunderstand me, it felt heavenly when you were licking the paint off but now that my skin is dry it feels… well, sticky.”

“Oh.” He shook his head, willing his blood to flow upwards to his brain again and allow him to think somewhat coherently. “I’m sure the bathroom’s facilities are more than adequate. These sort of rooms usually come with the full package, a spacious shower and a bathtub with all the bells and whistles.”

Her eyes sparkled and he patted himself in the back mentally for clearly saying the right thing.

“Oh, it’s been ages since I’ve been able to take a bath. The apartment above the library only has a rather pitiful shower stall and I love a good soak in a tub every now and then. Some bubble bath, a glass of wine and a good book… And maybe some company.”

There was no mistaking the look she shot him, eyes heavy-lidded and glittering with promises.

“You don’t suppose the bathtub here is big enough for two, do you?”

Her tone, mellow and just the littlest bit sultry, had him aflame and made his tired body reconsider the time it would take to rise to the challenge once more.

“Only one way to find out.”

#rumbelle secret santa #tickletorso #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Gluttony #thestraggletag fanfiction

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respectthepetty · 4 months

Note

Hi @respectthepetty, what were your top 5 colour moments in bl/ql this year?

Thank you.

@blogiamgoingmad, this is a tough one because I love all the colors I get regardless of how they come to me. In fact, I love color so much, I've written about the best visual narratives in two other posts:

Top 5 - Color-Coded Storytelling in BLs

Reading the (Visual) Rainbow Awards

So for this ask, I made sure to not pick the same moments listed in the other two posts, and this list includes unfinished shows as long as the "color moment" happened in 2023.

Top Five Color Moments of 2023

Honorable Mention: 7 Days Before Valentine - Dark Descent

Since the show isn't finished, and I know Q is going to be completely black before the end, I'm greatly enjoying seeing him get darker and darker each episode as he erases another person from existence at Sun's request.

Even though the lighting still shines brighter on him than Sun, I don't think that is going to last much longer, especially because I think Sun is going to ask Q to erase him which will cause Q to be the darkest he has been. I'm smiling too much at the mere thought of this to be sane, but this is a great visual narrative that I want to see more shows use consistently.

#5 - GAP - Tickled Pink

I love color exchanges (where a character wears the other character's color to show they are in love), but Sam, a Black Brooder, took her sweet ass time wearing Mon's pink in GAP. I was Kirby holding a knife outside her house all season waiting for Sam to prove that she loved Mon by simply wearing Mon's pink.

The last episode was upon us, and I needed to know if Sam was finally going to commit to Mon's pink; then, Idol Factory announced the finale would not be released on streaming platforms until after a paid screening. I was mad, but I'm a pirate by blood, so I watched an unsubbed version, saw Sam wearing pink as her WEDDING DRESS, and forgive Idol Factory for its season of color frustration because if the wedding didn't tell us Sam was committed to her Pink Person, the pink wedding dress sure the hell did.

#4 - Bed Friend - The Blue Light

Uea was great at communicating boundaries with King in Bed Friend, and King was even better abiding by them. So in the second episode, after taking Uea to go get tested after they had sex, King asked Uea to try a bed friends situation out, to which Uea said okay, but then avoided King. Blue Boy King (actually bi-colored) drove Red Rascal Uea home and put him on the spot asking Uea to make a decision as they waited at the red light with the countdown flashing: If Uea said "yes," they would go to King's condo, and if Uea said nothing, he would take Uea straight home. Then, Uea GAVE HIM THE GREEN BLUE LIGHT.

This light was blue instead of green which leaned into the color coding, but it was perfectly timed with Uea opening himself up to the possibility of something more with King. The light changing was a symbolic moment, and it was beautiful.

#3 - Last Twilight - Pink Milk

This series isn't finished, but I hope it continues to give me Mork in pink shirts because pink = 💗love💗, and this is the perfect homage to a BL tradition. Pink milk is a BL staple, but wasn't used that much in 2023. Only Friends referenced it, but Last Twilight purchased real estate in BL Land with its ode to it. Day and Mork had a nice day out together where Day purchased that bright ass pink shirt for Mork after Mork claimed it was too pink like Pink Milk for him to ever wear. Then, after losing each other on a busy street, Mork put on the bright pink shirt so Day could see him and hasn't stopped wearing pink since.

Mork fell first. He fell harder. And we don't need pink milk to know he is a member of the rainbow community. He has pink shirts to let us and Day see him for who he is - a man in love with another man.

#2 - Moonlight Chicken - Alan's Glow Up

Alan was in his feelings for most of his part in Moonlight Chicken. He was still in love with Wen and trying to make it work living with him, but Wen was done done. He was upset that Wen was seeing someone else. He broke a limb being drunk over Wen! He was sad, cold, and alone. Then, he spoke to Jim at the funeral after speaking with Kaipa, and he seemed to brighten up a bit.

Alan's color continued to brighten and become warmer as the series came to a close due to a combination of realizing Wen had really moved on, and that he, too, could do the same.

I won't give his newfound "friendship' with Kaipa all the credit because I truly think being friends with his ex and friendly with his ex's new boyfriend is what really warmed Alan up. Knowing he had a community, which was a theme in the series, was the support Alan needed to glow up.

#1 - The Eighth Sense - Monochrome Metro

This moment actually belongs to @how-to-be-a-tree who brought it to my attention, but Jae Won was color coded black and dark while Ji Hyun was a colorful and light person. When they went on their not-date-date, as they sat opposite of each other on the metro, their sides of the empty metro car reflected their respective color coding.

A few people in the reblogs and tags pointed out it was the BL version of the above meme, but it truly was a moment of pure awe that the show went as far as to color edit the seats to reinforce the story being told. Jae Won wasn't magically a lighter person simply being around Ji Hyun. He was still dark, and it wouldn't be until the end of the series that Jae Won actually became a bit lighter because HE was finally ready for change, which speaks volumes about depression and mental health.

Bonus: Jeff Satur x SHAUN's "Steal the Show"

Because it was gay (canon to me), color coded, and beautiful!

#Top Five Color Moments of 2023 #the colors mean things #color coded people in love #the color exchange #I'm still a bit mad at Sam though #a whole season my girl

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peachirambles · 5 months

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ahhh your writing is so cool!!

Anyway, I was wondering if you could do headcannons for mc who's a classical musician but is too shy to say that they are to tamarack and qiu? And one day mc just plays their instrument for them?

Lots of love,

A classical music fan.

Ohhh this is really cute, mainly because Tamarack is canonically a classical music lover 😭 i know jazz and samba dont count but i just really enjoy instrumentals a Lot so here we go!

This is gonna actually be step 3 in mind since i like the idea of mc starting band in step 2 and then admitting in step 3!

Btw i do hcs and stuff for step 3, but obviously a lot of these might be not canon by the time the game comes out in full so there's that disclaimer neow

Qiu Lin

While they're definitely not as musically gifted as say Tamarack, they definitely do have a high respect for those who play instruments and play them well. So naturally it comes as no surprise to them when they hear that the MC plays an instrument

However, he never actually heard the MC play anything unless they were in band! When they were younger, Qiu never pried or tried to figure out what the MC sounded like by themself when they were starting out. It's something he absolutely wants to kick his 14 year old self for because now the MC is too shy to even play for them

Until at last, the MC wanted to play something for them at their house, and of course Qiu going to say yes! Qiu wasn't an asshole this time around!

Qiu might not be the most attentive or can sit in place for too long, but you bet their ass they did for this song until it was completely done. Granted, it took all of their strength not to fidget or write something down on their phone but they powered through

Afterwards, I do think Qiu would most definitely ask if it's classical and that it's really cool to finally find out the MC's favorite genre. Though I can imagine the MC being like "Huh? Why didn't you ask?" When they find out Qiu has been dying to know and Qiu has to admit that their 14 year old self was too chickenshit to ask

It's also good to keep in mind, too, cause that means if Qiu has a recital and the MC knows the song Qiu has to dance too, they can practice together! Qiu can practice dancing to the music and the MC can practice the song.

Tamarack Baumann

Now, this I feel like starts a bit different than Qiu because Tamarack does really enjoy classical music as well so I can imagine her actually getting the MC into it but because their shy and/or have a crush on Tamarack, they don't tell her about it just yet

They do play band together though qnd while I imagine Tamarack has played solo numerous times, the MC is far too reserved for a solo at the time so she doesn't know either what the MC sounds like on their own and unlike Qiu, she would have definitely wanted to practice in step 2 with them but never got the time

So when it comes up in step 3, Tamarack is jumping for joy, both figuratively and literally. After she calms down a bit, she sets up her living room and gets very cozy to prepare to listen to the mc. She wants to really give them the time and attention they deserve

Naturally when the MC starts playing a classical piece, she immediately recognizes the song but she doesn't speak until after the mini performance. Though the entire time she is bopping her head and humming a little. It's very cute.

After the MC finishes, she immediately starts gushing about how good they were on top of knowing the song and asking if the MC is a fan of classical music like she is. And trust and believe, Tamarack becomes estatic when she finds out they do! Thus they have a very engaged conversation over some baked goods and tea about classical music like what artists they prefer, what's their favorite instrumental group, etc

Also, the first thing that popped into my mind when I got this ask was Tamarack asking the MC if they can play together as a duet, and I think the idea is adorable. Especially if the MC's instrument compliments Tamarack's cello playing. I think they would practice and perform together for friends and family if someone asked.

#our life now and forever #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #olnf tamarack #olnf qiu #candy headcanons

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sk2lton · 1 year

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Heyyy I jus finished reading your Unfortunate Incident where Ayato and Al-Haitham broke something precious/important to us and I was wondering what if instead of breaking it they accidentally thought it was trash and threw it away?

For example like an old friendship bracelet. It was given to us by a dear old friend who isn’t around anymore and since it’s been years the thread has started to break or loosened causing it to look like a flimsy old string/thread with charms

MISSING MEMENTO﹙☆﹚— GENSHIN

they throw away a precious item of yours.

referencing this: unfortunate incident

— warnings: you and al-haitham fight, implied death of a friend (beidou, cyno), not proofread, probably ooc cyno & al-haitham

— characters: ayato, cyno, al-haitham, beidou

﹙☆﹚— KAMISATO AYATO

“ayato!” you called out to him from your bedroom. you had already done three laps around the estate, passing ayato who was located in the living room several times while searching each room.

“what’s got you so frantic? or are you perhaps trying to hone your speed-walking skills?” he lifted his head up from the book in his hands.

“of course! how else am i supposed to evade enemies if i can’t speed-walk? it’s the basis for running!” you sarcastically responded, earning a hearty chuckle from him.

“what is it, dear?” ayato asked you.

“have you seen a journal? i brought it on our trip yesterday, but i can’t seem to find it now,” you explained to him. the journal in question was an old book filled with pages full of drawings, illustrated by someone you looked up to. before leaving to adventure, they gave you that journal years ago and you haven’t seen them since. although time has definitely taken a toll on the precious book, with its spine breaking in several places and its pages which were torn and brown around the edges.

“i don’t think so,” he hummed.

“are you sure? i need to find it,” you groaned, finally returning to the living room so you two wouldn’t have to shout to hear each other.

ayato clicked his tongue, trying to recall any memory of the journal, but failed miserably. “i do not. my apologies, love.”

“no, it’s fine! don’t worry, i’m sure it’s somewhere.” you spoke, reassuring him. ayato could tell that you didn’t actually believe the words you were saying to him. it wasn’t fine and you were certainly worrying.

“come rest for a moment,” he patted the cushion beside him, placing his book down. “i can get in touch with the places we visited while on our trip, alright? i will also help you search the house, but first, you should rest.”

you sighed in exhaustion, falling back onto the cushion. “thank you, i can always count on you.”

“that’s right. now, what exactly does it look like?” he asked.

“the cover was brown, and it seemed to be falling apart from the spine. but, it was given to me by the adventurer i told you about before,” due to the role this person had played in your past, they were often brought up in conversations with ayato since they meant a lot to you. so did any memento of theirs. “ah, wait!” you remembered a key component of its appearance. “on the cover, there’s a symbol of a bear craved into it.”

“a bear? its head?” ayato asked.

“yeah! that’s exactly it,” you were happy to know that ayato remembered it, so maybe it would be easier for him to help you find it!

“oh, i am very sorry. while on our trip, i found it in our luggage and thought that it had gotten there by mistake,” he explained, his hand made it to your back as he softly rubbed up and down.

“then, what did you do with it? you didn’t think to ask me about it?” you weren’t sure how to react. what exactly was he trying to tell you.

“i threw it away. i’m sorry, i really should have spoken to you first. it slipped my mind and i was very reckless,” your breath hitched as ayato spoke.

“you threw it away...” you whispered to yourself. although you were very upset, it was hard to say anything to ayato. he was remaining calm, which helped you remain calm as well, and his genuine apology seemed to reach your heart. because of those reasons, you found it hard to actually get mad at him.

“i will contact the place we stayed at and see if they can find it,” he said softly. you nodded in agreement.

﹙☆﹚— CYNO

“cyno, have you seen my friendship bracelet?” you asked moving cushions on the couch, hoping that it would be under one of them. when you found nothing there, you nudged cyno, who instantly stood up from the couch, as if he alread knew that you were going to ask him to sit up for a moment. you continued to remove the large cushions and check under there to no avail.

“no,” he answered, sitting back down. he watched you continue to run back and forth around the room, searching for this bracelet. despite how quickly he answered no, he soon became concerned since it seemed like you were about to flip the entire house upside down. to stop you for causing a horrible accident, he asked, “what bracelet?”

you gave him a side-eye before ducking under the coffee table. “my friendship bracelet. i took it off to cook dinner, but now i can’t find it!” you explained to him. cyno moved the table, revealing you crouched over under it. he looked down at you confused, and you returned the look.

“get up,” he offered you his hand. “i will help you find it.”

taking his hand, you thanked him. “it’s old. a friend from a while back gave it to me. we lost touch but still. it has some charms on it, but most of them are cracked or have pieces broken off. that’s what i get for wearing it everyday.”

cyno nodded, “okay. have you checked the kitchen already?”

“yes,” you answered.

“can you describe it better?” cyno asked. it was very obvious that he had no clue where your bracelet was, let alone where to begin looking. he stood in the middle of the room with you, awkwardly shifting his weight from one leg to the other as his eyes searched the room. it would certainly be hard for him to spot anything, let alone a small bracelet, if he just remained in the same place. however, he was trying his best.

“the thread is very frayed. like when you almost cut straight through a rope, but there’s those few small strings hanging on. i’m surprised the bracelet’s stayed together for as long as it has. but, i’m glad it’s held on for so long. it means a lot to me,” you explained to him as you headed back into the kitchen. it was just a room over, so it was easy to continue talking to cyno, especially due to the somewhat open kitchen which allowed you to peer right into the living room.

“why’s that?” cyno asked while trying to rack his brain for an imagery of this bracelet. not only had you just given a description of it, but you stated you wore it everyday!

“a friend made it for me. one of the only charms still intact was from the last trip they ever went on. it’s a cute fox. it’s supposed to represent protection,” you explained.

cyno’s eyes stopped searching the room. instantly, he felt horrible. he wasn’t sure what to say in that moment, but he knew that the random thread he had thrown out earlier was certainly your beloved bracelet. most importantly, he knew that it was already gone. in spite of that fact, cyno excused him and went outside where he had taken the garbage after accidentally disposing your bracelet. he tried rummaging through the bag but wasn’t able to find anything.

with a frown, he went back inside. “cyno? you smell... bad,” your hand instinctively reached up to block your nose.

“i am very sorry.” he grunted out.

“huh?” you shot him a confused look.

“i am truly sorry. i accidentally threw your bracelet out,” he explained with his head down.

“what!?” you went to search the trash, but cyno stopped you with his hand gently gripping into your forearm.

“i already looked, i could not find it. i’m sorry,” he repeated his apology. silently, he removed his hand from your forearm and walked into the other room. he wanted to give you some space.

﹙☆﹚— AL-HAITHAM

al-haitham sworn innocence. he did not know where your plush toy was. he has not seen it. and the part he emphasized most, he does not even know what you're talking about. al-haitham has never seen a plush toy in your home. you found his protests to be rather far-fetched, considering the fact that your plush usually sat on your bed at all times. no one else could be responsible for its disappearance, not even you, who refused to take the toy anywhere. it's not like strangers were travelling through your bedroom frequently. it's not possible that someone, who had been passing by, had accidentally placed your beloved plush toy into the garbage. if so, you'd have a much bigger problem than your missing stuffed animal. a rabbit, to be exact. although it had worn greatly over time, turning into pieces of tattered and torn fabric with loose stitches connecting them together.

"are you sure you haven't seen it?" you were audibly frustrated as you pulled your entire room apart, searching up and down for this plush. al-haitham stood in the corner of the room. it was unsure whether the look on his face was amusement or shock, but either way, he was providing no help to your investigate. he had already given his statement, so what more could he do?

"yes, i am sure. i haven't seen any such thing," al-haitham reinforced his statement.

"al-haitham, are you sure? it's a rabbit plush. but it's doesn't.. necessarily look like one now. it's green, and obviously very worn down." you explained to him, using your hands to show him roughly the exact size it would be.

that's when you saw al-haitham pause for a moment. you could tell there was something he was going to say, but instead, he walked out of the room. when he came back a while later, you were none the wiser.

"what was that about?" you asked him, sighing due to stress.

"i thought it was just a bunch of rags. so, to help you out, i took care of them. now, i realize that i caused a slight mishap," he spoke, remaining at the doorway of your bedroom.

"al-haitham, what do you mean? what do you mean you took care of it?"

"i threw them into the trash." you looked at him in disbelief before getting up and walking to the door, attempting to push past him. he didn't budge and continued to block the way. "i already checked it, and it's already been picked up. there's no point."

"you don't get to decide that. you don't know how much that meant to me," you gritted your teeth.

"yes, you're right. i don't know how much that 'toy' meant to you. it was about to fall apart into pieces anyway," al-haitham pointed out. however, you already knew that. you had been planning to fix some of the stitches to save it from falling apart but hadn't gotten around to it yet.

"so what if it was? it was mine! i don't go around throwing out every single thing at your house that i think is invaluable and ragged!" you pushed him again. his hands were wrapped around the doorframe to help reinforce his body. he wasn't moving until he wanted to.

"i wouldn't have anything like that around my house in the first place," he retorted.

"yea, okay, well i'm sorry that a gift from my childhood is so invaluable and uninteresting to you, that you went as far as throwing it away!" you yelled at him.

al-haitham didn't say anything. his eyes simply stared into yours. it was hard to guess what he was thinking and you didn't even want to try. it would just be a waste of time. just like every time you try to guess what he's thinking. you're always wrong. in that long and suffocating silence, he moved to the side and you walked past him without a second glance.

finally, al-haitham spoke up. "you're right, i shouldn't have done that."

the loud bang of the front door slamming resonated throughout your home. al-haitham always realizes his wrongdoings a little too late.

﹙☆﹚— BEIDOU

“have you checked everywhere yet?” beidou asked as you two searched your room. it was lost. a photograph of you and your old friend was lost. despite its frayed edges and dulled colours, it was a special item to you. its been involved in its fair share of accidents, including that one time you accidentally spilled water onto it, making a mess of the ink and paper. even then, the photograph miraculous remained in one piece. you would have expected it to be destroyed after that. so, ever since then, you’ve made sure to take care of it with extra good care. it was hard to make out your face in the photo, but the face of your old friend was surprisingly still visible.

“yes!” you answered her question rather panicked. you were upset, to say the least. no words would be able to accurately describe the heartache you were feeling. it was an important picture to you. the only one you had of you and your friend. to have lost it is like having lost your friend again.

“hey, don’t worry. we’ll find it,” beidou reassured you. you were tense and she noticed this. in response, she put her hand on your shoulder. almost instantly, your shoulders dropped, releasing the tension.

“but what if we don’t,” you mumbled.

“i’ll make sure we do! what’s it look like again? maybe i could get the crew on the search too,” beidou inquired. “are there any distinct marks?”

“well...” you paused, trying your best to recall all the small details of the item. “it honestly looks like a mess. but there’s one part of it that’s very discernible. there’s a heart on the back of the picture.” it was drawn on with paint, so no amount of water would be able to the heart.

beidou paused. “oh damn, i’m so sorry.” she spoke. you gave her a confused look. “i’m really sorry. i think i might’ve accidentally threw it away while cleaning up the lose papers on your desk.” your face, somehow, contorted into an even more saddened expression. she went to the desk in your room, and pointed to a spot on the table. “was it there? leaning on that planter?” she asked. she wanted to make sure— no, she needed to make sure. beidou felt horrible. did she really do that? she hoped not. she hoped it was just a loose piece of paper, like how she had originally thought. maybe, she had got it wrong and your photograph wasn’t even left there in the first place!

“yes, it was there,” you spoke slowly, pausing between words, as if you were still processing. you were unsure how to react. on one hand, beidou seemed so genuinely sorry. on the other hand, it was such a precious memento to you.

beidou sharply inhaled, leaning over your desk, with her bangs concealing her gaze. “look, i’m really sorry. but i know apologizing will only help me. what can i do for you? want me to see if i can find it in the trash or do ya’ wanna punish me?” she said the last part as a joke, and you were thankful for that because it helped lighten the mood as you let out a small giggle.

“let’s see if we can find it,” you answered her. she walked over to where you were and swung an arm around you, pulling you in for a side hug. it was another way of her apologizing.

“okay, got it, boss!” beidou cheered, trying to uplift your mood as much as possible.

#genshin impact hcs #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin x you #al haitham #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #cyno x reader #beidou #beidou x you #cyno #genshin ayato #kamisato ayato #vérités 𖦹 inouïes

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return-of-a-space-cowboy · 1 year

Note

Fairytale prompt 7 please with Prosciutto. A Cinderella tale where darling just wants to spend the night away from their family and unknowingly bumps into prince Prosciutto

Finally I finished it... nearly 7000 words 💀

This was actually quite enjoyable to write.

The hazelnut tree

(Yandere Prosciutto X Female Reader)

Like every day before you scrubbed the stone floors, Subjected to a maid's duty. Unfortunately, you had no choice, when your father died the estate was left to your cruel stepmother who left you with only two options: serve as a maid or leave with nothing. So for the past decade, you had spent cooking and cleaning. Slowly trying to salvage valuables and small sums of money to lead to an eventual escape.

You flinched as you heard a knock on the door. You quickly got up and ran to the door. Opening it revealed a finely dressed delivery man.

"Hello, what brings you here today?" You asked.

"I have come with invitations from the Royal family, all the ladies of the kingdom are requested to attend a three-night soiree so that the prince may find a bride" he explained as he searched through a velvet satchel.

"Residents?" He asked you.

"(L/n)" you replied. It took the man a while but he eventually pulled out three envelopes before he bid you farewell. You closed the door and placed them on the nearby table before returning to your work.

Time passed with the only sound being that of the brush you were scrubbing with. After you had finished you emptied the remaining water in the garden before going back inside and sitting on the lounge to rest your aching body but of course, luck was not on your side as the door opened and your stepmother and sisters entered.

"Slacking off as usual?" Your stepmother asked in an accusatory tone.

"I just finished scrubbing the floors…" you sighed before pointing to the table. You would have gotten up but you were far too sore to do anything, even though you knew that not doing so would result in no dinner.

"A delivery man arrived with invitations to a royal ball today" you explained and your step sisters' eyes lit up with excitement as they rushed to the table and picked the letters up and tore the envelope straight off. They could barely contain their excitement as they read through it.

"Mother, the prince will be choosing a bride at the ball!" One of them squealed.

"Prince Prosciutto… to marry him would be a blessing" the other swooned. You had heard them talk about the prince before. They would sometimes see him in the town and would return talking to each other for what seemed like hours. His light blonde hair that was always finely styled, and his fair, porcelain skin was. His eyes that were an icy blue. They fancied him a fair bit.

They put down the letters before noticing the third.

"What? (Y/N) got an invitation?!" One of them scoffed which caught your stepmother's attention. You leaned forward a bit. Shocked to hear that you had received an invitation.

"Now why would a lowly maid like her be invited?" She asked.

"The delivery man told me all women of the kingdom are invited" you replied. She shot daggers at you with her piercing glare.

"What a waste of the Prince's time, why would he want to associate with peasants? Surely there are enough noble women for at least one to catch his attention. So why throw those filthy, lowly creatures into the mix" she sneered before grabbing the letter and ripping it.

You tried to remain unfazed but deep down it hurt. To be considered less than human, to have your right to three nights to experience something you had dreamt about since you were a child to be torn to pieces.

That night you hadn't expected to cry into the sack you called a pillow but you did. Despite everything they already put you through this felt like the worst. You wanted to leave now but you knew you were not yet prepared. You had to wait it out for at least another year if you wanted to get anywhere.

As the days went on all your step sisters could that about was the upcoming ball. The month was spent by them going out in search of the perfect attire. From their jewelry to their shoes they spared no expense in hopes the prince would choose them. Every now and then you asked your stepmother if she would let you attend in hopes she'd say yes but she refused every time until the night before the ball.

"Yes," she replied.

"Really?" You asked her.

"Of course sweet, dear (Y/n), but only if you are able to complete this list of tasks" she lulled in a sickeningly sweet tone before thrusting the list into your hands nearly causing you to fall. You read the list most were the regular chores while others were different. Like sorting lentils out of soot, counting every stone in the floor, and other seemingly impossible tasks. Yet you managed to work throughout the night and into the day, completing every task on that list.

You showed her all the work you had done. She seemed impressed and that gave you hope.

"That's great but you must be so tired from all that work and it seems you don't have a dress ready. I'm afraid I can't let you come" she feigned worry and her daughters laughed in response. It felt like a knife had been driven straight into your heart. You shouldn’t have had hope, of course, she'd never let anything good happen in your life.

You watched as they left before going to the backyard, sitting under the large hazelnut tree that had been planted atop your mother's grave. You hugged the tree as if she was there as you cried.

"All I wanted to do was attend the ball… I just wanted to know what it was like" you sobbed. You continued to cry for a while but when you finally got up you noticed something odd. A pair of heels made of glass had seemingly grown on the tree you pulled them off. Then you saw the most beautiful silver dress. You carefully removed the dress and brought the dress and shoes inside to try on and to your surprise, they fit you perfectly, as if they had been made for you. The glass heels were unusually comfortable, allowing you to step gracefully with ease as if you were barefoot.

Still, you wondered how you would make it to the ball. You stepped outside and your eyes widened in shock as you saw a stunning white carriage parked outside. You walked to the front where the carriage rider sat.

"Umm, sir could you tell me what's going on?" You asked. He turned to you and smiled.

"You're heading to the ball of course ma'am" he replied sweetly.

"There must be some mix up-" you tried to explain but he cut you off.

"No there is no mix-up, you wished to attend the ball so you shall. Now you should quickly hop in so you're not late" he said. You were confused, left with more questions than answers but you entered the carriage anyway.

'Wish?' You thought to yourself. Yes, it was your wish but how? Such things only happened in fairytales. you looked out the window to see the glow of the castle draw closer and your heart fluttered.

🏰🏰🏰

The carriage slowed and you could see the castle right in front. A velvet carpet was rolled out to invite all the guests. The carriage then stopped and the door was opened. You got out and looked in awe at everything, this didn't feel real. You took slow steps as you made your way to the doorway. This all must have been a dream, this was too good to be true.

Heads turned as you walked into the enormous ballroom. Whispers you couldn't make out reached your ears. It wasn't long before men lined up to ask you to dance with them and you accepted each one. Blissfully dancing the night away. Between breaks, the women complimented you including your step sisters who seemed clueless as to who you were.

Throughout all this The prince watched from afar, curious as to who the woman was now talking about. He tried to approach however you hurried out of the ball before he'd gotten a chance to speak to you, but he did not threaten as he knew you'd return tomorrow night.

You had hurried off to the carriage after seeing the time, knowing your step-relatives would be leaving soon you had to make it home, or else they would know.

When you arrived home. you returned the dress and shoes to the hazelnut tree and went straight to bed. Shortly you could hear the door open and the mutter of your step-relatives. Your step sisters talking about how beautiful the mysterious woman was and how they would need better outfits if they were to impress the prince while their mother tried to discredit the woman.

In the mornings your step sisters boasted about the ball and told you about the mystery woman but when trying to describe her they couldn't. They remember her but her features were hazy. Even your stepmother was perplexed by how she forgot the appearance of such a distinct person.

After that they left early to find another, better dress to wear and returned after noon to start getting ready while you continue with your chores. Once they left you made your way to the hazel tree to find the same glass heels and a golden dress that was even more beautiful than last night's dress. You put them on and got into the carriage once more.

Once again you conversed and danced but you couldn't help but be lured to one of the balconies by the cold breeze that flowed from them. You looked out to the garden, they were already so beautiful. You could only imagine how much more beautiful it looked during the day before a voice interrupted your thoughts.

"You look so beautiful in that dress, from which kingdom do you come from?" A soothing voice asked. You turned to see a fair-skinned man with icy blue eyes and well-kept blonde hair wearing a fine royal blue suit.

"Thank you, sir, I have lived in this kingdom my whole life" you replied which earned a slight chuckle from him.

"Well I have not seen such craftsmanship from here… and I would have assumed that someone from this kingdom would undoubtedly know the face of their Prince" he spoke.

You felt your heart stop for a second, you were embarrassed that you had spoken so lowly to him.

"I'm so sorry your majesty! It was rude of me to speak like that to you. I've not been outside of my family's property in many years" you apologized and explained as you bowed before him.

"I'll consider accepting your apology, but only if you'll accompany me tonight," he said with a smirk. You were flustered, why would the prince want you around him?

"I am so sorry your majesty but I am not worthy of such a privilege" you replied. Another chuckle passed his lips and he got closer.

"No, it would be a great privilege for me to be around you. Last night I had heard so many people speak so highly of you, I had tried to get my chance to dance with you last night but you had left before I had the opportunity to ask" he retorted.

You were shocked that the prince wanted to dance with you, as wonderful as it sounded you really didn't want that kind of attention. You wanted to refuse his proposal but you were afraid of what the consequences might be so you accepted.

You waltzed with him a lot longer than you had with any of the dance partners you had before. During the dance, he asked you question after question. You kept vague with your responses.

"You never told me your name" He stated.

For a few seconds, you remained silently debating on whether you should tell him or lie. You thought back to the morning and remembered how your step-relatives couldn't remember you last night. Perhaps the same would apply with your name.

"My name is (Y/n)" you told him.

"(Y/n) is such a lovely name… it suits you very well" he complimented you.

"Thank you" you replied before looking at the clock and seeing the time it was nearly twelve. You had to leave.

"Your majesty-" you tried to speak but he cut you off.

"You do not have to be so formal with me, just call me Prosciutto," he told you.

"Prosciutto It's getting late, I have to leave" you explained as you tried to pull away.

"But the ball isn't even close to finishing tonight, if you're worried about your family then I'll explain, just point out to them" he explained.

"No, I have to leave now!" You explained in a dire tone.

Prosciutto noticed your apparent stress and pulled you into an embrace.

"Whatever it is that's forcing you not to stay isn't important, if you have a problem just tell me… I'll make sure to solve it" he spoke in a sickly sweet tone with the slightest bit of poison as if he held contempt towards something, making a shiver go down your spine.

You could feel many eyes on you. You managed to escape his grip and make your way to the carriage and leave. You were shaken by what had just happened. Your heart was pounding rapidly.

When you finally arrived home you once again returned the clothes and got into bed just before your step relatives arrived home. They talked more about the lady at the ball. One of the stepsisters even mentioned that she overheard some of the conversations the prince had with her. Tell the other two that the lady's name was (Y/n) but never correlated it to you.

After the ball had ended the prince did not rest until he had a plan set to capture the woman who kept eluding him. He ordered tar and a spare carpet and informed the servants of the plan before finally resting in the late morning.

That morning you served breakfast to your step-relatives. They only talked about the woman again.

"What was her name again? You told us last night but I cannot remember" your stepmother asked one of her daughters.

"Her name was…" she tried to reply but paused for a few seconds.

"Well I actually can't remember either" she continued. From a distance, you sighed in relief.

🏰🏰🏰

In the evening you watched your step relatives leave again before sitting down. Tonight you intended to stay home after last night's ordeal. You didn't need any of that attention. Minutes passed before there was a knocking at the door. You opened it to see the carriage driver that had driven you to the ball the last two nights holding the glass heels and a dark blue dress with diamonds sewn into it, making it look like a starry night sky.

"You'll be late to the ball if you don't get ready now," he told you.

"I'm sorry but I don't want to go tonight" you replied.

"But it was your wish to attend," he retorted.

"Yes I know it was my wish to go and I did but I've had enough" you explained before closing the door. You took a step away from the door before hearing the familiar sound of the glass heels. You looked down to see you were in the dress.

"What?!" You exclaimed before opening the door again where the man still stood.

"I don't want to go, please" you begged the man.

"I'm sorry but I can't change anything, it's your wish and I must grant it" explained.

"Well now I wish to not go," you told him.

"That isn't how it works I'm afraid, the wish must be fulfilled," he told you as he gently took hold of your hand. Even though he used very little force, your body complied with his movements against your will. You stepped into the carriage and the door closed before it began to move. You sat thinking but couldn't wrap your head around this wish thing.

Once you had arrived you had reluctantly left the carriage and were instantly greeted by the prince.

"And I was starting to think you weren't going to show up," he said. You tried to speak but you couldn't.

"It was such a shame that you had left so soon last night, should we continue where we left off?" He asked. As he took your hand.

"No…" you muttered and the look in his eyes changed, you couldn't figure out what it meant but it put you on edge.

"Well we don't have to dance, perhaps we could just wander the garden away from all the guests" he suggested.

"That's a lovely offer but what if people get the wrong idea?" You replied.

"And what do you mean by the wrong idea?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"People will start thinking that there's something between us" you replied, earning a chuckle from the blonde.

"So let them, I don't care what they think," he said as pulled you to the garden.

Once again he asked you questions about your life and again you answered vaguely. Every once and a while he'd point out a plant or ornament that he was particularly fond of before you reached the back of the castle which was a small atrium area.

"I want to show you some friends of mine," he told you as he opened the door for you. You cautiously entered the atrium and you were greeted by the caws of a pair of crowd.

"Hubert, Francine calm down," he told the crows as he closed the door behind him. They quickly flew to a nearby branch less than a meter away from you.

"This is the closest I've been to a bird in my life," you said.

"Crows are very intelligent birds, once you feed them a few times they become very loyal creatures," he explained.

"I've trained them for quite some time, recently the duke of a nearby kingdom kept harassing me to marry his daughter for months on end and do you know how I got him to stop?" He continued.

"How?" You asked expecting him to tell you he had gotten them to harmlessly terrorize the Duke but what he did tell you made you feel sick to your stomach.

"I got them to peck his eyes out, he screamed like an absolute imbecile" he confessed.

"What?!" You exclaimed against your will. Why would the prince do something so horrible, he was supposed to be the future king.

"What, Are you afraid they'll hurt you? If so I can assure you they won't" he tried to reassure you.

"No… why would you subject someone to that in the first place?" you asked, absolutely mortified by how casual he was about it.

"Because he was wasting so much of my time, surely you must have some idea of what it's like?" he reasoned. At that moment you knew you had to leave.

"I should be heading home…" you said but he grabbed your wrist with a brutal force. At that moment he forgot his plan. He had to make his intentions known.

"And again like last night and the night before you want to leave early. Whatever it is you keep leaving for is not as important as right now" he hissed in almost a scolding manner.

"Once you're mine you won't need to worry at all. Everyone and thing will bend on your wim" he proclaimed.

"No!" You screamed as you tried to escape his grasp.

"No?" He asked you as he tightened his grip on your wrist, making you whimper.

"No, you're a horrible person!" you replied. You felt a painful pop in your wrist that caused you to fall to your knees.

"No, let go! You're going to break my hand!" You pleaded as tears escaped your eyes.

"You decide, either you comply or I will," he told you sternly. Without realizing it you had headbutt him right sternum causing him to let go of your wrist. You quickly took the advantage to run but he was quick to chase after you. You nearly ripped every door off offs hinges as you tried to escape.

You finally found the ballroom and with little care, you pushed past others.

"(Y/n!)" you heard Prosciutto's voice call out softly in comparison to how he was just a moment ago.

Once you had left the building you had tried running down the steps only to find tar had been slathered on the carpet, causing one of the glass heels to get stuck you turned around to see Prosciutto and his guards approaching so you got it off your foot and hurried down the rest of the stairs and into the carriage, only just managing to escape. Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to give out. When you arrived home you hurried to get rid of the heel and dress before going inside and lying in bed, your heart still pounding.

Your step-relatives arrived shortly after like the nights before. Theorizing about what possibly happened but never once did they believe the prince was at fault.

It terrified you. Was what you saw a side of him that most never saw? How could people who for a self-centered prince who would take the enjoyment out of people's pain and suffering?

If he found you, who knows what he'd do?

🏰🏰🏰

The news spread quickly. Within only a few days the whole kingdom knew about the search for the woman at the ball. The prince was going from residence to residence in search of the woman who would fit the glass heel. It was only a matter of time before he would arrive.

In the night you pulled out the valuables you had hidden. You had to escape now. You packed for the journey out of the kingdom before you felt a breath on your neck.

"I knew you were up to something" your stepmother hissed.

"I've… decided to leave," you said, attempting to sound headstrong but failing.

"With all of this that was stolen from me?" she asked.

"No, this is my father's wealth! Not a cent of it is yours!" You retorted only to be met with a harsh slap in the face.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that!" She snarled as she delivered blow after blow to you, leaving you disoriented.

"You horrible girl, I should have just thrown you into the snowy streets when he died! You grew up to be nothing but rotten!" she yelled. You felt yourself slowly slipping into unconsciousness as she continued her tirade.

You woke later to find you had been tied to one of the support pillars in the basement.

"Oh God, what does she intend to do to me?" you muttered to yourself.

🏰🏰🏰

Prosciutto looked at the long list of the names of the various households of the kingdom as the carriage rocked on the uneven path. So far his attempts to find his lady had been futile.

He'd have made a bounty for her but he could not remember her name nor how she looked, which was very odd considering that usually he could remember people with ease. Whenever he tried to remember her it was always obscured, like a thick haze in his mind.

"(L/n)" he read the name of the residence he was attending next. The original owner had died and left the home to his second wife and they had three daughters from previous marriages.

The carriage came to a halt. He looked out the window to see the house and put down the list. He then grabbed the velvet box he had stored the heel in before exiting the carriage.

He followed his guards and servants to the door before one of them knocked. It only took a few seconds before two young ladies opened with enthusiasm.

"Welcome your majesty!" They greeted him in union. He knew instantly that neither of them was the woman he sought.

"Thank you and good morning to you both" he replied before he entered. He looked around the entrance. Taking particular note of a painting of a man and what he assumed was his daughter. Something about the young girl in that painting intrigued him.

"Who are those two in that painting there?" He asked.

"That was my late husband" an older lady replied as she made her way down the stairs.

"And the child?" He asked her.

"Nothing of importance, I've actually been meaning to have that painting removed for a while now but is up too high for anyone to reach" she explained, still not giving him a clue as to who the girl was.

"Well, I'm sure you know why I am here?" He said.

"Yes, I'm well aware as to why, may I have a minute with daughters before they try on the shoe?" She asked.

"Of course" he replied and as soon as he said that she and the two girls walked into one of the nearby rooms and closed the door. He followed shortly after to listen.

"Sacrifices must be made to ensure that you prosper," the lady told her daughters.

"No, I can't do that! I'd never be able to walk again if I did that!" One of the daughters exclaimed in horror.

"I agree. You can't expect us to mutilate ourselves to fit the shoe?" The other daughter said.

"You'll not need to walk when you are queen, it is a small price to pay to become " the mother spoke harshly. Now the prince knew for certain that they were not the one.

He returned to the entrance where he waited for them to return. After a couple of minutes, they exited the room. One of the girls was visibly in pain. His eyes moved to the ground where he could see a trail of blood. He was actually quite amused that she'd actually gone through with that sacrifice her mother had spoken of.

The other girl sat on the nearby chair first and let the servants attempt to put the heel on but her toes could not fit. She sighed in defeat before she let her sister take her place. The servants tried again and it fit. She squealed in joy as she looked at the prince who nodded in disapproval.

"Don't celebrate yet, I want to see you walk that bloody trail there and back, and tell me what that so-called sacrifice has done for you?" he demanded in a snarky tone. Her skin paled in horror.

"Now where is (y/n)? Is she, not a resident here too?" He asked the mother.

"She is not a resident, she is merely a servant my late husband left us" she explained.

"So where is she?" He asked again.

"She's in the basement, I found out she was stealing from us and I have her there as her punishment, there is no need to even concern yourself with that rat since she hadn't attended the ball," she said with bitterness in her tone.

"Are you sure she didn't? the lady at the ball always seemed to rush home early, almost like she was worried something would happen if she didn't leave early" he retorted as he began to put all the pieces together.

"I'm sure of it, there was no way she could have. She had no transportation, not even a dress she could wear" she replied adamantly.

"Well surely there would be no harm in having her try it on, I'm just trying to be thorough in my search," he said as he took the now bloody heel from his servant.

"Alright your majesty" she sighed in defeat before guiding the prince to the basement. She opened the door. The light framing you, head hung low in defeat.

"What… What are you going to do to me?" You asked weakly before you lifted up your head to look towards the door. Your eyes widened in shock as you saw the prince holding the heel.

"No" you muttered. The prince smiled as he looked down at you.

"(Y/n) isn't it?" He asked.

"Yes," you weakly replied as you watched him make his way down the stairs with the heel in his hand.

"I'm just here to get you to try this on" he explained softly. As if you were a small animal that could flee at any point.

"But I never attended the ball, it's a waste of time" you tried to reason. He kneeled before you and tried to grab your leg but you used what little strength you had to kick.

"I'm just being as thorough in my search," he told you before leaning closer.

"And… just as a secret between you and me. I know that the lady at the ball doesn't want to be found" he whispered, his hot breath grazing your neck making your body seize up. He took your ankle quickly and tried to get the heel on but you managed to kick it off before he had the chance to fit it.

The glass heel flew in the air before hitting the ground and smashing into millions of tiny pieces. You turned back to see the prince smile.

"I guess that was useless in the end… but that display of yours was quite telling" he snickered to himself before grabbing something out of his pocket.

"Guards I want these women arrested" he commanded in a cold tone before returning his attention to you. Now you could see the small knife in his hand.

"Look at all those bruises… I can't have you looking like that at our wedding, I'll have to push back the date" he muttered as he sawed at the thick rope that bound you to the pillar.

"However if Wench hadn't caught you stealing then you probably would have fled to some other kingdom, am I right?" He accused you but you couldn't respond. You held your head low. Terrified of what your future would hold.

"Was I right?" He asked as he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. You nodded up and down slightly. He was satisfied with your response and returned to cutting the rope.

Once the rope snapped he put his knife away before picking you up and holding you in bridal style. Some would swoon at the idea of being rescued by a handsome prince and being carried back to a castle but this was a nightmare for you, uncertain of what he had planned, and as much as you wanted to run you knew you couldn't, even trying to move your hand was impossible.

He carried you out to his carriage while ordering his guards to stay until he had a wagon come back to collect the prisoners.

A servant opened the carriage door and the prince laid you down with your head on his lap. Soon the carriage began to move.

He combed his fingers in your hair as he stared down at you.

"That beautiful face, I remember it clear as day now" he spoke to himself as he admired you.

"I love you, even if you're too stubborn to reciprocate my feelings, " he said.

"I'll never love you!" You snarled as you turned your head away from his gaze.

"You don't really have a choice, what are you going to do, try to run away again? Because if that is the case I've already planned for that thoroughly. You're never going to succeed much less be even able to attempt an escape" he explained.

"So is locking me up your plan?" You asked.

"You think I'm going to do the same thing that woman did to you? I promise you I'm not going to do something so degrading. After all, you are my dear princess" he tried to reassure you.

"I have absolutely no trust towards you! You threatened to break my hand that night" you retorted.

🏰🏰🏰

The carriage halted and the door opened. Prosciutto didn't spare a second to hold you in his arms again. As he brought you inside the castle he ordered his servants.

"Have a wagon brought to the (L/n) residence to capture the three women there" he ordered one of the guards before walking to one of the maids

"I want you and the others to start immediately on what I'm requesting. She needs a bath run, fresh clothing, lunch prepared, and a notice sent to all those on the list I wrote for the wedding plans" he listed off to the poor maid who looked at you with pity.

He walked you up the stairs and through the halls til he reached a door. He lowered your legs gently til your feet just touched the cold marble floor. He opened the door to reveal a large bedroom.

The walls were a soft green, the fabrics were white with golden details, the furniture was made of maple wood, and a balcony behind a pair of doors. He walked you in and laid you on the large, soft bed.

"This will be the room you'll stay in until we marry. The maids should arrive soon to take you to the bath" he explained before leaving. He closed the door behind him and the loud click of the lock followed.

You tried to stand on your feet but fell to the cold floor after several attempts before you finally succeeded. You checked the door and indeed it was locked. You then looked to the balcony. You made your way there and checked the doors but they had also been locked.

For what seemed like forever you spent searching for an escape, even pushing furniture in hopes there may be a secret passage but it seemed like Prosciutto was true to his words. He really had made any attempt of escape impossible.

🏰🏰🏰

For two weeks you had been trapped in that room. Only allowed out to bathe and eat. Every day Prosciutto would come, sometimes with wedding planners and seamstresses as the days drew closer to the wedding.

Today was the day. Your heart ached as you looked in the full body mirror to see the beautiful white gown and veil on you, it hurt knowing you were going to marry a man you felt nothing but contempt for. A knock at the door got your attention.

"Your majesty, are you ready?" One of the servants asked. You made a deep sigh, resigning your fate.

"Yes…" you replied as you made your way to the door. It opened and you stepped out. One of the maids handed you a bouquet of pink gladiolus, white Rhododendrons, and purple Hyssop. You silently took them before being guided to the carriage. In there you cried, terrified of the future.

Once you arrived at the church you wiped your tears and contemplated on one last attempt to escape, to run into the woods and not look back but you knew Prosciutto would have prepared for that well in advance.

You got out of the carriage and walked in and the organ began to play. Everyone looked at you in awe, some perhaps were envious. It made you wish you could just switch places with one of those unsuspecting women but unfortunately, that was outside the realm of possibility.

You made your way to the podium where he waited with a smile on his lips, his victory would soon be sealed.

"You look radiant today my love" he complimented you but you refused to respond. The bishop began the ceremony. As he spoke you felt your blood boil as you desperately tried to not scream. You remember the many warnings Prosciutto told you when practicing your vows.

'If you so much as stutter at the wedding I'll make sure you regret it. Our wedding will be perfect, you hear me?' He had threatened.

"You are everything that I ever dreamt of and the only one I will ever need. Our love for each other is heaven-sent. From today and onward I vow to be here with you and for you, forever and always" Prosciutto declared, Something you had heard a thousand times from hours of practice.

"Now (Y/n), your vows" the bishop instructed. you swallowed all the words that threatened to erupt and took a deep breath before speaking.

"Today I say, I do but to me, that means, I will. I will take your hand and stand by your side in every moment, both the good and the bad. From this day onward I dedicate myself to your happiness, your success, and your smile. I will love you forever" you recited as you placed down your bouquet and took the other ring from the table. In that moment tears rolled down your cheeks. Prosciutto wiped the tears from your face but only to portray himself as someone who genuinely cared about you. If this had been behind closed doors he would have taken amusement at how pathetic you were.

"(Y/n) (L/n) do you take his Majesty, Prince Prosciutto to be husband for now and forever?" The bishop asked. Your heart was pounding in your chest, wanted to scream no and run as fast as you could but you were afraid of what Prosciutto would do if you did.

"I do" you replied, finally sealing your horrid fate. The prince took your hand with no hesitation and slipped on the lavish golden ring.

"And Your Majesty, do you take (Y/n) (L/n) To be your wife for now and forever," the bishop asked him.

"I do" Prosciutto replied before smiling at you. You took his hand as he had yours before and put the ring on his finger.

"With the power vested in me I now pronounce you husband and wife" the bishop announced. The applause of the crowd echoed through the church as Prosciutto laced his hands into yours and pulled you into a long, passionate kiss. It seemed like forever before he ended the kiss, you only got a second or so to leave before he swept you off your feet and walked you down the aisle and toward the carriage.

"I planned for us a wonderful honeymoon, it'll just be you and I but first I have a surprise for you" he cooed as he sat you down.

For the journey, he told you about the royal holiday home he was taking you to. It was up on the top of a seaside cliff, completely isolated from any town.

After a few hours, the carriage stopped at an abandoned building that had particularly collapsed.

"Why did we stop?" You asked.

"Because we're here," he told you as he exited the carriage and offered his hand to you.

"No, I don't trust you," you told him.

"That's a shame, I put a lot of effort into the wedding gift I was going to show you" he sighed.

"I'm not leaving" You stood your ground knowing that his gift would certainly be grim. At that moment he practically tore you out of the carriage and dragged you inside despite your protest.

Inside you were confronted with the horrible sight of your step-relatives. Bruised, starved, and bound to support pillars much the same as your stepmother had done to you.

You knew it was some sick, twisted form of vengeance that the prince had devised, maybe you should have taken joy in seeing those who had ruined your life in such pain but you could only feel horrible as they screamed out desperate apologies to you.

"They've suffered enough, please let them go" you pleaded to Prosciutto who only nodded in opposition.

"My love, you don't understand? These three have caused you nothing but suffering. Surely there must be some side of you that is happy to see them getting their just desserts?" He asked you.

"No not one inch of me enjoys watching another suffer" you responded before your attention was caught by a pair of crows. The prince's crows.

"Oh God no!" You screamed as you ran in front of your step-relatives.

"(Y/n) my dear, you shouldn't do that" he warned you.

"No, I'm not going to let you do that to them!" You retorted.

"Hubert, Francine" he called before pointing. They cawed in response before flying above and behind, quick to attack them.

"No stop!" You shouted as you tried to fend off the birds before Prosciutto grabbed you and pulled you back. Their hollers and screams grew louder and louder as the crows pecked and scratched at their eyes. You were crying and screaming as you helplessly watched them suffer.

#yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere x reader #fairytale au #yandere Prosciutto

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