#I’ve loved working on all of these commissions and requests | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mooshywrites · 3 months

Note

Could I request headcanons of poly! Astarion, and Halsin with gn human crush genuinely asking them if they're willing to be with them despite their shorter lifespan?

I’ll Love You Forever

Poly!Reader x Astarion x Halsin

Masterlist

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

A/N - I knowwwww this was a headcannon request, but It was just so incredibly sweet that I couldn’t help writing a longer fic for it. It’s still bite sized though! Hope you still like it, your requests are always top tier ;) <3

Word count - 1.2k

Warnings - sfw, angst, mentions of dying/growing old, fluff

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“Not even the Gods themselves could make me stop loving you.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

~Astarion~

Astarion’s eyebrows furrowed as he slipped the needle in and out of the silk fabric. He cursed, sighing as he pulled the thread from the needle, tearing out the last few stitches in his work. The small green leaves he had been embroidering were now a mess of jumbled lines and he had only you to blame.

You had been acting quite… odd today.

Usually you were a bundle of smiles, greeting Astarion and Halsin with kisses and teases in the morning, sleepy eyes and clinginess galore. But this morning, after you had brushed your hair out in the mirror, something had changed. You had found a single grey hair, plucked it out and glared at it like it had personally attacked you. Since then, you’d been quiet, distant.

And Astarion hated it.

Though he acted aloof and annoyed when both you and Halsin would shower him with love and affection, deep down he adored it. Craved it even. All day, the most you had given was a quick peck to Astarion’s cheek before leaving to gather herbs.

Astarion found it hard to admit that your change in behavior had rattled him so. He was still so new to this ‘caring about other people’ thing. But his stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought of you out there picking plants without a smile on your face.

”Get it together, Astarion.” He murmured, threading the twine back through the eye of the needle.

The door of your little cabin swung open, Halsin bumbling in. He was carrying a large basket stuffed full of various cooking ingredients, his own face looking rather forlorn. He set everything on the table as Astarion continued his stitching, finally coming over to see what the Vampire was up to.

“Done with my shirt?” Halsin gruffed, leaning down to leave a gentle kiss on Astarion’s forehead.

”Obviously not.” Astarion scoffed, setting the work down and rubbing his eyes. “I’ve had to restart twice.”

Halsin’s forehead creased with worry, “What frets you, my heart?” He reached down to run the pale elf’s shoulders gently.

”You know what frets me.” Astarion quipped. “They went out this morning all doom and gloom and still haven’t come back. How long does it take to find a bloody herb or two?”

“I noticed it too.” Halsin said grimly. “That’s why I went to get ingredients for their favorite meal.”

Astarion thought for a moment, glancing back at the basket filled with food. “You know, you may be on to something.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

~Reader~

You brushed off your pants, annoyed. Your basket was practically stuffed with medicinal herbs, so much so that not even another leaf would fit in amongst the others.

In truth, you were avoiding returning home.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal when you found the grey hair that morning. Everyone gets them eventually, but to you, that little strand held too much meaning for your heart to handle.

You were getting older.

You didn’t notice it at first, the way your laugh lines deepened, the way your eyes crinkled a little more when you smiled. You had never been afraid of growing old before Astarion and Halsin, in fact, the thought of immortality seemed suffocating to your human mind. But the thought of passing on and leaving them here? That truly stung.

Not to mention, you were afraid.

Afraid the two men wouldn’t love you any more. Not when your limbs grew feeble and your mind grew weak. Would Halsin still sweep you into his arms and kiss you when he came home? Would Astarion still tease you and make it all up with lis lips when you pouted?

Would they still love you as you grew old?

The thought stung your eyes, your vision growing blurry through tears. You wiped them away quickly, deciding it was time to return home. Your boys were probably worried about you, and you didn’t want them to see your puffy face like this.

Instead you thought of other things on the walk home. Chores, future plans for the house, adventures you might take. Anything to distract from your world imploding around you.

As soon as you walked through the front door, a wave of delicious smell hit you. Your mouth watered as you recognized the savory scent. You set down your basket of herbs, seeing Astarion and Halsin talking in hushed voices before the stove. Apparently, they hadn’t noticed your homecoming.

You padded up behind them, clearing your throat, “What are you making?”

Astarion practically jumped out of his skin, turning to look at you. He sighed with relief and then gave you a glare “You scared me, pet. Don’t you know it’s bad form to sneak up on a loved one?”

Halsin just chuckled, pulling you into a warm hug. You melted into the touch, inhaling his pine and honey scent. You didn’t linger too long, afraid the embrace would make you tear up again.

“Sorry,” You offered, pulling away from Halsin, “I guess old habits die hard.”

The room fell silent again as you watched the men cook, working together perfectly to mold together your favorite dish.

“My heart, is something bothering you?” Halsin gently asked, looking up at you as he finished his prep work.

You shook your head, looking down to avoid his concerned gaze. “No. Just tired, I suppose.”

“Might as well come out with it.” Astarion huffed. “We know something is wrong.”

You clamped your mouth shut, afraid you’d lash out at the men if you opened it. It wasn’t their fault they wanted to know. They just simply cared. You would be acting the same if one of them had disappeared, looking upset.

You were about to change the subject when you felt a strange tickling sensation in your mind.

As if someone were trying to peer into your thoughts.

Your head jerked up, glaring at Halsin angrily, “Get out of my head.” You seethed, crossing your arms.

Astarion glanced at Halsin, apparently surprised at his boldness. “Well, what did you see?” He asked, turning to the both of you.

Halsin kept his eyes on yours, his expression tinged with embarrassment, apologies, and… sadness?

“They were thinking of growing old.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

~Halsin~

Halsin’s heart clenched tightly, the images in your mind replaying in his own head over and over. He saw your fear, saw your heartache at the thought of withering away from the life the three of you had built.

He couldn’t even begin to make himself feel sorry for the intrusion of detecting your thoughts, the overwhelming feeling of your sadness choking the Druid’s mind.

Astarion’s expression became unreadable, the room taking on a quiet air.

“I don’t want you to stop loving me.” You whispered sadly.

Halsin’s eyebrows furrowed, his gaze switching to Astarion with confusion. He couldn’t fathom the sentence you had said. Couldn’t imagine a world where that would be true. With Halsin’s long life, he’d never had to think about his mortality before. Sure, there were a few run ins and battles where he’d been faced with the thought of death. But the idea of aging had never hit him the way it was apparently hitting you now.

How terrifying it must be to be a human. To fit such experiences and growth in so few years.

Halsin shook his head decisively, turning back to you. “Not even the Gods above could make me stop loving you.”

“Unfortunately, I agree with the big lout.” Astarion smiled, pulling you close against him. Halsin joined, his frame wrapping both you and Astarion up perfectly.

Halsin heard you sniffle, tears staining your voice when you spoke. “But what about when I’m elderly?” You wailed. “What about when my joints are stiff and my face all… wrinkled?”

“You will always be the most beautiful thing nature has to offer.” Halsin murmured, petting your hair gently.

“Wrinkles? Oh, darling, not to worry.” Astarion grinned, “There’s always the option of the three of us going out in a dramatic blaze of glory. Perhaps cliff jumping?”

Halsin smacked his shoulder, earning a small laugh from you.

“Fine.” Astarion sighed, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “I suppose I can be swayed to love an old bat if its you.”

“Promise?” Your voice asked, feather light and muffled in the hug.

“Promise, darling.” Astarion assured, rubbing the curve of your back in small soothing circles.

“I promise as well, my heart.” Halsin swore, planting a kiss on the top of you and Astarion’s heads.

As he held you both tightly, the smell of your favorite meal wafting through the air, Halsin only had one final thought on the matter. It wasn’t the fear of you growing old that addled him, you would be just as perfect to him if hobbled over and grey, it was the thought of life after you had passed. The loneliness that would leave both himself and Astarion in. Not to mention… how would Astarion feel when the both of you were gone? No… there had to be something to ease this heartache. He had made up his mind

I’m going to need to talk to Jaheira about that immortality ritual.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #halsin #bg3 astarion #bg3 halsin #baldurs gate halsin #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #halsin x reader #halsin x astarion x reader #poly astarion halsin #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate x reader #baldurs gate fluff #bg3 fluff #astarion fluff #halsin fluff

469 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 19 days

Text

Unraveled 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)

Note: thanks for waiting on this one.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The carriage stops outside a brick building. A walk-up in Marleybone, just along Upper Baker Street. An address you couldn’t even dream of living near, let alone within. You peer up at the facade, the orange brick unstained by the coal and smoke of the backstreets.

Gavin appears to open the door and sets a step down before you can emerge. He offers his hand gallantly and you let him assist you down to the road. You thank him as you peer up at the arched front door of 221b.

“You need only knock, miss,” Gavin goes to pat the horse’s haunch as it kicks. “Ask for Mr. Holmes, he is expecting you.”

You grip your bag tight and set your chin. You might not belong but only you are troubled by it. You climb the steps alongside the iron rail and lift the heavy knocker mounted on the thick wooden door. It’s clang rattles even you.

You wait, both hands on the handles of the bag. Gavin appears behind you with the rolls of fabric, breathless as he struggles to keep them from touching the ground. You return your attention to the door as it opens.

“Hello, I’m looking for Mr.--”

“Holmes,” the very man you’re seeking stands before you, “forgive me, my housekeeper... resigned.”

“Not to worry, sir,” you assure him.

“Come in,” he backs up, gesturing you within with his large hand. “And how was your journey? I hope you didn’t come upon any scoundrels.”

“Only upon her destination, sir,” Gavin japes as he steps in behind you.

“Eh,” Holmes tilts his head at the driver, “allow me.”

Holmes takes the rolls of fabric from Gavin. He hugs them effortlessly in on arm as he faces you again, dismissing the driver with no more than a nod. You stand rigidly by the wall, hesitant to go any further. The door closes and the click makes you flinch.

“Allow me to show you around,” Holmes offers, looming in the tight space of the entryway.

“I need only see your sister,” you insist.

“Ah, yes, Enola, you will, but it only polite to get you acquainted with the space,” he rebuffs.

“With respect, sir, I’ve come out of my way and without warning to this appointment. More work does await me at my shop,” you squeeze the leather handles until they squeak, “it is a lovely home, I’m sure, but I’ve come upon business, haven’t I?”

“Yes, but it wouldn’t take very long,” he counters, “yet, if you’d rather keep this formal, by all means, I will take you to my sister.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You bite down, wondering if perhaps you were more curt than you should be. The apartment is rather far from your neighbourhood and the travel time alone will impose upon your ongoing commissions. You don’t expect he considered that. He does seem the type to command rather than ask.

He directs you to the stairs, just across from the door, and waves you onward. He follows as your skirts brush the top of your boots with each step. The wallpaper is tightly decorated with framed newspapers and portraits, cluttered together but not garishly so.

You get to the top and he advises you to go left. You obey as he keeps pace.

“Did you... discover what led to that woman’s fate? Or who she was?” You ask as you take measured steps.

He isn’t demure as he walks next to you, crowded against you as his broad figure allows for little space, “sadly, yes and no. Not her name. Only that she was a factory woman. I won’t say much on the matter as it is ongoing and confidentiality is a part of my contract, I would only gird you to keep your doors locked and yourself alert.”

You chew on his answer. It makes you nervous. You know the woman was found close to your shop and home. The news has been whispered for blocks.

“I will be sure to hede your advice,” you say.

You walk past a door as he stops to knock on it. You spin back, skirts swirling around you, and he glances at you as he plants his hand on the door frame. There is activity from within, scratching and creaking. He sighs and stands straight as he slides his hand down the pillar. He raps with his knuckles again.

“Enola,” he booms through, his voice shaking you. “I told you to be ready.”

You hear furious footsteps and the lock flicks back with similar furor. It opens and a young woman with a slumping bun greets Mr. Holmes. Strands fall loose from the clip and her blouse is half untucked as her sleeves are rolled to her elbows. She has a long oval face, flushed as she shows her teeth.

“I told you, I’m busy--”

“Not so busy that you would waste this good woman’s time,” Holmes insists, “she traveled all this way. We discussed this.”

She flutters her lashes and huffs. Her eyes flit over to you and she softens her expression, “if her time is wasted, it is hardly my fault.”

“Hm,” he hums flatly, “isn’t it? It wasn’t I who fed your dresses to the furnace.”

She smiles, a smug look that pinches her cheeks, “I was cold.”

“Sister,” he warns dangerously, crossing his arms, his breadth wider than ever.

“You know what, I welcome her company. Much preferable to your own,” the woman sneers and turns her shoulder to her brother, “come on, then. Suppose I need a dress for the banquet.”

You inch forward. A flare of resent burns in you at the position Mr. Holmes has put you in. Plainly, this appointment was not upon his sister’s behest. She holds the door for you and her brother exhales deeply.

“All you need do is stand still, I’m certain you can handle that, sister,” he rebukes, “do let me know when you are finished and I will call the carriage.”

“Thank you,” you utter without looking at him. He sets the rolls just inside the door and backs up to watch you.

You enter the bedroom and find it cluttered and cramped. There are books in stacks with more littered around the bottom. A dried-up paint palette and an easel draped over with several jackets and unpaired stockings. There is a four-post bed with scrambled covers and a canopy twisted around the poles. Vials upon vials line shelves and an inkwell stands uncapped over untidy sheets of paper.

“Very well,” the woman shuts the door, “I am Enola, the famous detective’s ne’er do well sister and you are the seamstress who will make me a peacock.”

You stare at her and swallow tightly. You offer your name before you begin, “I’ve only come upon his request--”

“Ah, yes, I’m certain you have. He’s still trying to make a lady of me. I see through his guise, though he doesn’t think it. He underestimates me, see. He lies but I will go along for I will more easily avoid his snare if I do.”

You nod and narrow your eyes. The wealthy can always afford to be so eccentric. You don’t think any woman you know would view a new dress as such a curse. She is young, she cannot know.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll only take your measurements,” you offer, “I can always fit upon the dress form.”

“Do what you must,” she sighs, “shall I strip down?”

You put your bag on a chair as she unbuttons her blouse, “not-- if you--” You look up at her as she reveals a corset and reaches to undo her skirt. You focus on your bag and scoop out your measuring tape.

You approach her as her skirt heaps at her feet. She is tall, her legs on long, her figure lithe. You begin your work silently. She raises her arms as you request and puts them back down.

“Suppose if I wasn’t here, I might’ve become a dressmaker. I always enjoyed stitching,” she muses as you scribble down each number, “it seems lonely work. Quiet work.”

“It’s work,” you say as you take out the envelope and unfold the page to examine the dress again. You hold it up and glance past it at Enola.

“May I see that?” She asks but doesn’t await an answer before she snatches the paper. “Oh, is this really what he chose? No, no, no, this won’t do. I want my shoulders covered.”

You slip the envelope back in your bag, “it is only what I was given. If you prefer adjustments, it is your dress.”

“Yes, my dress and my body,” she crumples the paper and tosses it onto the rug.

You close up your notebook and go to the rolls of fabric, “would it be too much for me to do some piecework?”

“If you insist,” she pouts.

You take out your scissors and turn your back to her. She isn’t rude, per se, but you’re not in the habit of associating with this sort of clientele. You get numbers on a sheet and you sew. A living form is not quite your forte.

-🪡

When you finish, you can sense Enola’s agitated impatience. You don’t blame her. It’s plain she didn’t want the dress or your visit. It is more so upon the shoulders of her brother. Mr. Holmes. You’re similarly irked that he would put you in this position.

Enola is already fiddling with some instrument before you can go. You emerge and pull the door shut after you. You stand in the hallway, bag at the crook of your elbow as you hug the fabric. You move with hampered steps towards the stairs. As the top creaks beneath your weight, your name is called from further down the hallway.

“Ah, are you set then?” Mr. Holmes asks as he stops just outside a door, “I was thinking, to make up for your efforts, you might want to stay for tea.”

You look down at your armful and back to him, “that’s very generous, but--”

“I believe I paid an adequate fee for the appointment,” he strides slowly towards you, “but I am open to a barter if it was not sufficient.”

You feel the heavy sovereign tucked into your jacket. You crook your lips and raise your chin, “no sir, it will do for today and the making of the dress. The fabric... I don’t have any as rich as the style requested.”

“Another service I may require of you. If you wouldn’t mind to select the material, I would be happy to reimburse the expense.”

“Would there be a colour? A fabric preferred? Velvet? Satin? Chiffon?” You prompt, “I solely work in cotton and wool, as I forewarned.”

“Perhaps we might find a fabric seller at Covent Garden? You could accompany me on my next sojourn--”

“I don’t know if I would have the time. I could write down some fabrics which would suit the silhouette we agreed upon,” you offer.

“Mmm,” he hums, “you are rather professional. How about tea, then? Melinda from across the road sent some mutton over.”

“The hour should see me back to my shop,” you shift your bag.

“You are fastidious,” he stops before you and puts a hand on the fabric, “please, allow me, you are overburdened.”

“I’m--”

You can’t argue as he takes the fabric from you. You let him have it if only to avoid disaster you lean back on your heel. He angles the rolls under his arm easily and grins. A curl strays down his forehead.

“I suppose you are right, given recent events, it would be best to see you home before the evening sets,” he says, “I would gladly see you home safe, miss.”

He is overly polite, or perhaps you aren’t used to it. It is his home, he supplied the carriage, and he has paid generously. It makes each denial feel trite.

“If you must, but I would be just fine on my own comportment,” you accept.

“It isn’t any fuss, I will fetch a jacket and the driver,” he extends his arm past you, “after you.”

You spin on your heel and face the staircase. You descend with your hand on the railing. As you come to the bottom, you wander towards the entry way and take in the fineness of the decor. Is much more becoming than your slanted rooms.

Mr. Holmes places the rolls just beside the door and takes a jacket from the rack. He pulls it on and tells you to wait before he disappears outside. You linger as you are, sliding your bag down to your hands.

When he returns, he reaches within to retrieve the fabric first. “Gavin is bringing up the carriage,” he declares and offers his free arm, “shall we?”

You consider him. You wouldn’t want to be unkind. You step through the door, pulling it shut as you accept his bent arm, your hand in the crook. He accompanies you down the narrow steps, each step crowded by his.

Gavin appears in the driver’s seat and reins the horse to a halt. The beast looks miserable. Mr. Holmes escorts you to the door and releases you to open it. He helps you with a strong hand and you sit within with your bag on your lap. He shoves the fabric in ahead of him, his head bowed as he fits through the small door.

He closes it with a snap and settles on the bench on the other side of you. You stare across at the cotton, expecting he’d have taken that seat instead. His leg is on your skirt.

You keep your hands on your bag. He knocks on the ceiling and the carriage rumbles into motion. You rock with it along the street, silent as you wring the leather handles.

“I hope my sister did not cause too much stress. I know she can be a lot but she’s old enough now. She should start behaving as a lady,” he spreads a large hand across his thigh. “Perhaps, once she finds a husband, that will be easier.”

You nod, uncertain of a proper response.

“Not to mean... I don’t mean to assume, I am known however for my observations, and I have concluded you are not married,” he continues, “I gather if it were the case, you might not have a shop to sew in.”

“Suppose not,” you reply dully.

“It is only to say that my opinion of my sister isn’t general. A woman such as yourself is admirable.”

“A spinster?” You supply.

“I didn’t--”

“I’ve chosen not to marry, that is true. I am not bothered by that fact,” you say, “isn’t that what you deal in, detective, facts?”

“Fair,” he shifts on the bench, “but not everyone can detach emotion from facts.”

“And why should I be emotional about that fact? I am much more happier than any woman could be with a husband,” you stare at the opposite wall of the carriage. “And I will assume, sir, as I am no detective, that you have neither taken to the altar.”

He curls the fingers on his left hand, “I have not.”

“And I’m certain you enjoy your bachelor lifestyle in your grand apartment,” you return, “while my own is not so extravagant, I find solace in it. On that, I think you might understand me.”

He takes a breath and lets it out with a thoughtful hum, “I suppose we are similar in some way.”

#sherlock holmes #dark sherlock holmes #dark!sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #unraveled #enola holmes #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series

305 notes · View notes

silksongeveryday · 8 months

Text

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 200!!!

(huge thanks to this person for the art suggestion!! <3)

I genuinely can’t believe that I’ve made it to 200 days, it’s truly been wild how time flies by like that and the amount of doodles I’ve made during that time. Over 200 doodles (217 to be exact if we’re counting double pictures/extra doodles) have been made over the past 200 days. :0

And thank you all so much for the love and support! Not only have we reached 200 days but also 1400+ followers about a week ago! <3

But, having said that I’d like to make a few announcements—some good, some not so great—about a few things regarding the blog, myself, and other stuff.

Putting it all under the cut so the post isn’t long if you’d like to know more

______________________________

Announcements!

My pfp!

1.) I’ll be changing my pfp again!! I’ve officially decided that after every 100 days or so I’ll change up the pfp so it’s up to date with my doodle style (assuming it changed at all lol), but generally it’ll look relatively the same as the last!

Possibly more admins?

2.) As of right now I’m looking into the idea/possibility of having a second (maybe third?) person help me with daily doodles! As much as I’d like to keep doodling everyday there are some days that it can be tough or some situation might be happening. (i.e. recently got injured)

See, the problem is I don’t exactly have a proper way of trying this out??? My idea was to maybe do this through dms or more preferably Google Forms. I also don’t really know what form of communication afterward would be best either, suggestions to help me work this out would be great! (as you can tell I’m not very good at this stuff lol)

Commissions!

3.) After much consideration and a lot of thought, I’ve decided that in the near future, I’ll be opening commissions again for the first time in years. I don’t have everything set up quite yet, but expect more info in the near future!

About requests:

4.) You may have noticed recently that I haven’t been doing as many doodle requests recently. Sure, there’s usually quite a few in a row at once but you may have noticed I’ve also been doing “non-requested” doodles aka ones that I just do on my own.

Expect this to become a very normal thing going forward. I probably won’t be doing as many requests as before because frankly with the amount of requests I get daily when it’s open is a lot to handle sometimes. Does this mean requests will be stopped entirely? No, I’ll still do some occasionally, but not as much as I have in the past.

Also I’ll likely be doing strictly anonymous requests.

About Burnout:

5.) Alright let’s address the elephant in the room.

There have been quite a few instances where people have wondered if I would ever have burnout and have occasionally joked about “dying” from said burnout because “Silksong will never release, you’ll be doing this forever” etc etc.

In the past I’ve been fine, motivation has been great, but recently I’ve noticed it a little bit.

Unfortunately life has its own plans so it can be a little hard for me to make a doodle that day, expecially recently since I’ve been experiencing personal/medical issues. It’s part of the reason I’m hoping to get a second (maybe third) person to help me do daily doodles so I can take a little bit of the load off my shoulders.

So what does this mean for this blog?

Not much right now. But in the future, there may be some changes. My current plan is to keep going on daily doodles/posts for the length of a standard year, so roughly 365 days. After that, if things in personal life keep up the way they have, I may have to stop daily doodles and instead will post only if I have time. That likely means doodles every other day or every three days or something. At the very least I’ll still post a doodle once a week.

Not to worry though! I’ll still try my best even after I reach day 365 :)

I’ll discuss how things work a little more on my main @miizori later, but that’s as much as I can think to explain rn.

———————————————

Just a few more things I wanted to say!

This community has been so cool to interact with, so much tamer than some others I’ve been apart of in the past. I’m genuinely thankful for how much support and how nice everyone has been. I truly didn’t expect to get this far, I was fully expecting to have stopped like 10 doodles in lol. I especially love to see all your comments in the tags and people sharing their art. You’re all so cool :)))

I have a dtiys from back when I reached 300 followers that’s still available if you’re feeling up to it!

Also my main (again, @miizori) is where I make updates on doodle stuff, regular art stuff and so on if you’re interested at all in that lol

I think that’s all that I can remember wanting to say, so thanks!! I look forward to more doodles for you all :)

#hollow knight #silksong #hk hornet #hollow knight hornet #silksong hornet #hk shade lord #shade lord #hollow knight shade lord #hollow knight fanart #hk fanart #silksongeveryday

492 notes · View notes

rbbrbikerthorp · 8 months

Text

A New Neighbour Moves In

[Please note: all characters are 18 plus and any reference to boy or girl is purely descriptive or used in dialogue between the characters.]

Mitchell was living the life much like any typical 23 year old male would. He’d graduated university, he had started his career in recruitment for legal and financial services and was starting to earn good monthly commissions on top of his basic salary. He’d used all the money inherited from his grandparents to buy a 1-bedroom flat in a new development, just on the edge of the city centre. Mitchell didn’t have a steady girlfriend – he wasn’t in a long-term relationship place. As he told his mates at the gym, he was a ‘date them and ditch them’ once he’d managed to ‘get them in the sack’ kind of bloke.

It was a Monday morning and Mitchell needed to get to work. First, he had to navigate his way carefully out of the flat where he’d been invited to spend the night. The girl he’d met in the club the previous evening had taken a shine to his blue eyes, rugby toned body and wavy blonde hair. “Another notch on the bedpost,” Mitchell thought as he tiptoed his way out of the girl’s bedroom. Mitchell made it a policy to only meet women in person and he would never exchange contact details. It meant that none of his ‘conquests’ had any idea of how to find him and, as he was enjoying his ‘tom cat’ life so much, he sure didn’t want to be found. He went on his Uber app and requested a taxi. In less than two minutes one had pulled up in front of him. He took one last look up at the window to check the curtains were still closed and the car pulled away from the curb.

He arrived back at his flat in plenty of time to get ready for the day ahead. He shaved his weekend beard growth and then turned on the shower. Whilst the water warmed up, he took a moment to admire himself in the mirror. He loved how beefy his legs looked from the years of playing rugby first in secondary school and then in the university’s first team. His regular attendance at the gym meant he had a well-defined chest and arms. Women loved his bum as it stood out, firm and muscular. Yes, at that moment as he entered the shower cubicle Mitchell was very content with his life, but on this day, things were about to change.

As Mitchell locked his front door, he noticed piles of boxes outside the flat next door. As he turned towards the lifts, he ran into a large man. He barely stopped as he fell into him. Stepping backwards he said, “I’m really sorry, I didn’t see you there.” As the guy regained his balance, Mitchell noticed the man’s shaved head, jeans with bleach marks with tall black boots with white laces tucked into them. Even though he thought of himself as a tough, well-built guy, he stuttered feeling inadequate and intimidated by this stranger. “I…I…I’m Mitchell,” holding out his hand, “n... n… nice to meet you. So, you’re moving in next door? I… I… always wondered who my new neighbour would be? It’s been vacant for ages.

The man smiled, “I’m John and yes, it was quite a steal really. Apparently last owner had been shacked up with his fiancé for the last few months and they were about to get married. I made an offer a bit less than what they were asking for, but, because he needed to put money down as a deposit on a new house, he had no choice but to accept.”

“Well,” Mitchell replied being polite, “I… I… I’ve got to get my bus.”

“Yes, I can see you’re dressed for an office. As you can probably see I’m not a suit person myself.”

Mitchell laughed nervously. Why was he feeling so unsettled by this guy?

“Look, why don’t you drop by when you get home from work. I always like to get to know my new neighbours.”

On the spur of the moment, Mitchell couldn’t think of an excuse not to accept the invitation, so he said, “why not? Must go!” As he walked away, he could sense the man was staring at him. He shouted, “good luck unpacking” and then lowered his voice a little, “weirdo.”

John couldn’t help admiring his good-looking young neighbour’s physique, and he shook his head hearing Mitchell mumbling that last word. He began to create a mental picture of what Mitchell might look like wearing less formal clothing. Tattoos were common on young men of a similar age these days, so John wondered if he had acquired any ink yet. He was sure to find out later when Mitchell would drop in for a chat and John would explain was his lifestyle was all about. John set about unpacking so that he could prepare for his young neighbour’s visit.

It was around 7:30 in the evening when John heard a knock on the door. He opened it to find Mitchell had changed out of his work suit into a t-shirt and sports shorts. “Come in.” It felt more like an order to Mitchell than a pleasantry.

“You got everything unpacked I see.” Mitchell said trying not to stare at the many pairs of tall lace-up boots all lined up by the door; taking in the various bomber jackets hanging on the coat rack and the skinhead themed pictures and posters on the walls.

John noticed Mitchell’s “That’s nothing lad, I’ve got way more kit in the bedroom.”

Mitchell really didn’t want to know any more about what might be in John’s bedroom, “takes all kinds I guess,” he thought as John handed him a beer. The two men chatted, but as Mitchell sipped away at the beer, “wow”, he thought, “this stuff has a real kick.” He found himself becoming more relaxed and more willing give direct answers to John’s questions; about his job, his personal life, his family and friends. Mitchell was hoping that by dressing as though he was going to the gym and John would bring their chat to an end and let him go on his way. Mitchell was starting to fidget as you do when you’re about to stand up. However, John had different ideas, “stay right there lad, and I’ll get us another beer.” Mitchell suddenly found himself wanting to stay and slumped back into the sofa.

“So wh… wh… what do you for a living?” Mitchell asked with a slight stutter and slur as John handed him another glass of beer.

John smiled, “I’m glad you asked. To put it simply I change people.”

“Change people?” Mitchell asked thoroughly bemused.

“Yes, I change people. I take ordinary people, with very traditional upbringings and boring lives and I change them into whatever takes my fancy.” You, young Mitchell are just the sort of person I look for to mould into something more, hmm, you know ‘out-there’.”

Mitchell had downed half the glass of beer at this point.

John continued, “maybe I’ll slowly take them from the lives they are currently leading and over a few hours, a few days, maybe a few weeks transform them. They might end up as a…”

John could sense Mitchell’s fear about what might happen to him but continued, “The next person I change may end up as filthy mohawked punk, a dirty greaser biker, a Leatherman, a goth, a rubber slave. Who knows? It’s whatever takes my fancy at that moment. After a time, I get bored and need a new challenge, so I sell them on to people into the lifestyle and I move on to my next…”

Mitchell couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He opened his mouth to challenge what John was saying but he discovered it wouldn’t move. His heart was pounding, his anxiety levels were on the rise – no matter how hard he tried he was unable to form any words.

“Mitchell, I want you to calm down! Mitchell is such as pompous name, so from now on you’re gonna be called Mike. Now, I will carry on. John pulled out an amber charm which he swung from side to side, glowing eerily in front of Mike’ glazed eyes. When I combine this fine-looking stone with a special ingredient I have – oh you know I added a few drops into your beer, my victims become more… open to the changes I want to make to them. More compliant.” Mike’ eyes were affixed on the stone. “That’s right, just follow the stone, from side-to-side, follow the stone, transfixed by its glowing beauty/” John was comfortable in the knowledge that Mike would soon be his personal boy toy. “Isn’t that the most striking, bright and coloured stone you’ve ever seen Mike?”

He tried to open his mouth in one solitary second of defiance, but all he could managed was a barely audible squeak. His independence, his free will, his ability to fight and think freely had departed. There was no resistance left in Mike. His mind was now mush, the lad could only obey and conform.

John pulled Mike to his feet and dragged him to the bathroom. Once there, he placed him in a chair. “Right Mike, I’ve been thinking all-day about the life I want to give you. How do you fancy being my skinhead son? I’ve always wanted someone I could call a son, but being gay it was never going to happen, and I think you will make the perfect skinhead.” John didn’t wait for Mike to reply - he couldn’t; he did however see the confusion and distress in Mike’ eyes. He chuckled to himself.

John walked over to the bathroom cabinet and took out several items: some electric clippers, scissors, a pack of Mach 3 razors and a can of shaving cream. Turning his head to look at the boy, he smiled, “Only real men have hair. So, yours needs to go Mike. I’ll start on your legs and then your chest, all of that lovely blonde hair on your head and not forgetting the parts in-between. I’m going to enjoy getting rid of that wavy blonde hair. When I’m done, you’ll have a perfectly smooth bonehead.” John cut through the lad’s t-shirt revealing a well-defined torso. Staring at the blank canvas and thinking what he would do to it, he couldn’t help but squeeze one of Mike’ nipples. John detected the tiniest of yelps, so he squeezed the other nipple. There was no reaction this time, Mike’ mind was lost. He continued to stare into the amber jewel that was hanging in front of his face.

John turned on the clippers, starting with the boy’s left leg. Hair started falling in clumps on the floor. Once the left leg was done, he moved on to the right one. Soon John was wiping them down with a cloth, applying a astringent lotion so that the smooth skin shone in the bathroom lights and after a few more applications, regrowth would never be a problem. Then it was onto the chest. Although Mike was only in his early twenties, he’d already got quite a covering of fur, which John’s clippers made quick work of. Mike’s arms were also denuded of hair. John turned off the clippers and, with the same cloth, applied more of the special lotion to the recently clipped areas.

John stood up and smiled. He paused for a second, “this is the last time there will be any hair growing on your head.” He pressed the on switch, and after hearing the familiar ‘clack’ he began ploughing all the way through the boy’s golden locks. In no time at all Mike was motionless sitting in the chair with a zero-grade cut. John picked up the can of shaving cream, squirted it into his hands and rubbed it copiously all over Mike’ head. He took the necessary time to ensure all the fuzz was removed and Mike’ head felt like a cue-ball. In no time at all there was a shiny hairless skinhead son sitting in front of him.

Looking down, John smiled as Mike’ identity lay on the floor in clumps. He looked up at Mike who was sitting perfectly still, with the same glazed eyes and dazed expression on his face, oblivious to the changes being made without his consent. He took the cloth, poured some more lotion into it and rubbed it into his son’s head.

“Stand,” John ordered. Mike complied, happily obeying his skinhead master. The sports shorts were pulled down over the now smooth legs and John stood back as he grabbed the clippers. “Now boy, I need you to get nice ‘n’ hard so I can make sure I get all your hair… down there...” He watched as slowly but surely there was movement in Mike’ groin. John grinned as in no time at all full mast was achieved. “Very nice boy,” John said out loud, “I bet you were popular with the women. Is that six, possibly seven inches? Good and think as well. Unfortunately for you, you’re not going to have much use of it as my son, but it will look amazing with a thick gauge PA, and a Jacob’s ladder.”

‘Clack’, John turned on the clippers and began the removal of the last remaining hairs on Mike’ body. He had to hold himself back as he rubbed the special lotion into the skin around the groin and on the mounds that had once been covered in thick hair. When he was satisfied the boy was as smooth as the day he was born, John left the bathroom to get something from his bedroom. When he returned Mike hadn’t moved, he was still lost in the stone “Now here I have the perfect thing to complete you. Now stay perfectly still.”

Later, John walked into the main room of the flat dressed in full skinhead gear. As he gazed at his newly denuded skinhead son, he felt his manhood straining inside a pair of skin-tight bleachers, which were turned-up and touching the top of a pair of 30-hole red ranger style boots. He was looking lustfully at the 23-year-old standing to attention, still wearing the expression, he had when the amber jewel turned him into the compliant vessel he now was. “It’s time for the next stage in your transformation lad.” With that John walked over to a cupboard an opened the doors.

The cupboard contained piles of skinhead gear from boots to bleachers to braces to bomber jackets. First, he instructed Mike to put on a yellow jockstrap. “You’ll be wearing this non-stop for a few days – it needs to get in nice ‘n’ ripe.” Then he passed the boy a t-shirt, which Mike willingly slipped over his head. “These are your bleachers; they’ve got two zips – front and rear – you’ll soon find out why,” he grinned, “slip them on.” Mike pulled up the tight-fitting jeans that had been liberally splashed with bleach. Mike didn’t take any notice of the fact that they’d been cut off just below the knee and turned up so that they would show the full extent of the boots he would almost always be wearing when he wasn’t in his work gear. John walked across to Mike carrying a pair of red braces which he attached to the bleachers, pulling them right up his bum crack – so much so that Mike let out a little groan. To finish this stage of the transformation, John handed Mike the left boot. It was black with 20 eyelets and partly laced. John talked Mike through how to ladder lace the boot tightly and perfectly. John fitted a padlock at the very top of the boot before handing over the right one. When John was happy with the way that one was laced, he fitted another padlock. “Stand!” Mike stood up. “Turn to look in the mirror, see the Skinhead son I’ve created. This is what you are now a proud skinhead and my skinhead son.

“Now, we can begin your training. Kneel!” Mike complied. “I know your tongue will still be a bit tender, so I’ll be gentle. Open!” John commanded, and with that he slid his cock into Mike’ open mouth. “Move your tongue slowly, showing how much your love the bottom of your skinhead dad’s cock. Make sure you keep your lips tightly closed as I don’t want you to spill anything.”

He sat back as his cock was held between Mike’ virgin lips and soon found himself about to cum as the hard stud, he had introduced to the lad’s tongue work its magic. The combination of it all and the sensitivity soon had John unloading his massive load. “Swallow!” Mike swallowed quickly trying not to “spill’ as he had been instructed. John soon slid from the lips of his new son and quickly zipped up his own bleachers. “Yes,” John thought, studying the boy who, in addition to the tongue piercing also had a stud in each lobe and four more studs all the way up each of his ears. Mike would serve him well as his skinhead son, but first he needed to complete the lad’s transformation. “Right son, let’s go – I need you to see a friend of mine.”

With that John grabbed a green bomber jacket with orange lining and threw it to Mike, “put it on,” he instructed. Mike slipped on what he would get to know as an MA1 and followed John out of the flat. Right away he found it strange walking in heavy soled, tightly laced boots, but he didn’t complain – he couldn’t.

The skinhead and son waited a few minutes at the bus stop before one came along heading in the direction of the city centre. They alighted just before the main shopping area. It was an area that would be unfamiliar to Mitchell, but Mike was oblivious to everything now. He obeyed his skinhead dad, just as any good son would do. The two skinheads walked side by side into a small industrial estate. One of the units had a sign saying, ‘Anaconda Tattoo Studio and Piercing’. John walked ahead of Mike, as they got to the door, John walked in but for a second Mike hesitated. John knew this sometimes happened, especially with all the distractions of the outdoors. He pulled the amber stone out of his pocket and held it in front of Mike. “This way boy,” he ordered. Mike complied; his eyes once again completely transfixed on the glow of the jewel.

Once inside the tattoo studio, John turned to Mike, “stand here son. I need to talk to the owner.” Mike waited as instructed. Despite tattoos being made popular by the countless athletes and celebrities who adorned their bodies with intricate permanent markings, the old Mitchell would have never crossed the threshold foot into a tattoo studio. But here was Mike waiting to submit to whatever his skinhead dad was discussing with the owner.

John came out of the back office followed by a hulk of a man who was wearing tight leather trousers, a black vest, which exposed his muscular arms covered in tattoos, shaved head with long unkempt beard and on his feet were heavy biker boots. “Son this is Griff, he’s going to give you some more piercings and your tattoos. But first, you are to strip down to your jockstrap. When you’ve done that, go over there and sit in the chair. From now on you will do exactly what Griff tells you to do. He’s going to give you your first marks to show the world that you’re a proud skinhead. After you’ve got your first ink, he’s going to give you some more metal. I’m going to leave you for a bit, but I’ll be back to see the finished work.” Turning to Griff, John said, “he’s all yours.”

Griff walked over to Mike wearing only his jockstrap sitting obediently in the chair. Since John had already removed all the boy’s hair, Griff simply wiped clean the areas to be tattooed and then laid the first outline template on the skin. His machine was then started up, some ink was added, and the needle started to buzz.

He then began applying the needle over the site of the first tattoo, Mike felt a dull pain but didn’t flinch. Once the first tattoo on the boy’s left arm was completed, Griff went on to add the other tattoos as instructed by John. He started work on a full sleeve on Mike’s right arm, which would take four or five visits to complete. Then he added a bulldog to the rear of the lad’s right calf. Finally, two swallows were added to the back of the each of the lad’s hands. Griff whispered into Mike’s ear, “that’s all I’m doing now lad. John has booked half a dozen more sessions, so you’ll be coming back to get your neck, back and chest inked, and I can finish off the full sleeve. Now stay still. There’s a couple more things to do. Griff pushed away his tattoo cart and returned with another.

Griff looked at the docile boy in the chair. I think we will start with the nipples. Griff played, stroked and flicked them for a few moments until they were firm. He then slipped a needle through the left nipple, at which point Mike squealed. He then installed a barbell through the hole left by the needle and screwed a ball onto either end. He repeated the process for the right nipple. “No touching lad.” Griff then turned his attention to the lad’s groin and applied a topical cream to the so-called policeman’s helmet (bell-end to others). “Right, we’ll give that a little while to take effect and, in the meantime, we can sort out your nose piercing. This will hurt, but only for a second.” Griff then picked up a clean needle from his trolley and quickly passed it through the front part of the septum. Mike’s eyes began watering, so he knew the boy was feeling the pain from the intrusion of the needle. Carefully he inserted a ring into the boy’s septum, and then said out loud, “That will take six weeks or so to heal, then John wants it swapped for a bigger ring.” Now, the cream should have dulled your senses on your knob so let’s add the final bit of metal you’re getting today. He wiped the area to be pierced with an antiseptic skin cleanser, put a mark where the piercing was to be made, and begin the piercing process. The most painful moment for Mike in the piercing process was when the piercing needle punctured his urethra. One the needle was through, Griff inserted a circular barbell and spoke again, “don’t worry if you feel a bit of discomfort – a dull, throbbing pain that’s to be expected.

At that moment the door opened, and John walked in carrying a large shopping bag. “He’s all done, just as you instructed John. Don’t forget to leave the starter jewellery in for six weeks – no less, and make sure you use the aftercare solution. After that we can do a bit of stretching to your liking.”

As the days turned into weeks. John had started his son on the path to being a smoker. First, he gave him a gum to chew to introduce nicotine into the body, then he encouraged him to vape. When he felt there was an addiction starting, he told the boy to smoke cigarettes, starting him on five a day, and quickly moving onto ten, then fifteen. Within a couple of weeks, he was getting through a pack a day.

Mike also kept up his weekly visits to Griff, as more of his skin was covered with ink. Over the period, the full sleeve was completed, the Union flag was tattooed on the back of Mike’s next, the word skinhead was tattooed in script of his back and the letters that made up the word skinhead were inked on his knuckles and finally a Celtic cross was inked on the left pectoral. On the most recent visit Griff replaced the rings in his septum and PA with heavier gauges. As per John’s instructions, he also replaced the studs in his ears with rings and the ones in the lobes with spreaders. Mike joined his skinhead dad in a new gym, one that was run by an ex-boxer friend of John’s. John made sure to get Mike in the boxing ring so that his pretty boy face could get roughed up a bit. John wanted his son to look a bit freakier.

Mike didn’t look like the sort of person who would work in an office anymore, so he was signed up to work in the city council’s recycling centre – they were always in need of people to sort through other people’s waste. Five days a week he stood by a conveyor belt dressed in dirty Hi-Viz gear, and safety boots separating glass, metal, plastic, paper and cardboard into different bins.

After work, the boy would return to his skinhead dad’s flat, which was much bigger now that the wall had been knocked through joining what was Mitchell’s flat and John’s flat together. This night was special because as soon as he got home, Mike got out of his stinking workie gear he’d be in since just after dawn and into the skinhead gear his dad left out for him. Tonight, skinhead dad would be introducing his skinhead son to the lads in the pub. Mike dressed in his bleachers, a black Fred Perry, yellow socks and red 20-hole boots. Mike was ready in time for his dad to return home. John walked through the door and saw the perfect skinhead son standing there. “C’mon son. You’re gonna meet your skin bruders.”

#ranger boots #tattoos #bleachers #conversion #skinhead #workie

359 notes · View notes

the-phantom-peach · 2 months

Text

Hi folks!

I wanna thank everyone whose submitted asks so far! It’s always nice to chat with you guys and see your wonderful ideas. I just wanted to announce some new rules to prevent overfilling the ask box, preventing some asks from our friends getting answered~^^:

1) Please Refrain from Submitting Off -Topic Drawing Requests (unless explicitly asked) Most requests I’ve gotten so far are totally fine! Topics relating to Persona and Zelda (or other fandoms I’ve previously stated I’m interested in) are all I’m willing to accept for now. I’m so sorry for those that have already submitted some requests. I’d love to do them but my schedule is too full to fulfill all of them fairly, specially for fandoms I have no experience in.

2) Please also refrain from sending overly detailed requests. The reason is obvious, but if you’d really like to have your request drawn, you can request a slot for a commission and I’ll gladly work together with you on it!

3) Please Be Patient! Please do not resend a request or ask if I don’t get to your submission quickly. I have 50+ submissions at a time and it will take a minute to get yours! :)

These rules apply for the time being until I get more time or specifically ask for other requests. Thank you so much for all your sweet submissions thus far! I hope this isn’t taken the wrong way, I just hope to commit the appropriate amount of time to interact with everyone <3

#seriously thank you for all your ask submissions #it’s really fun to see how you guys think and feel about things #I just hope to do a better job of responding <3 #peachie asks #peachie mumbles

131 notes · View notes

your-local-hoemie · 1 year

Note

Diluc, childe and xiao with reader that likes being praised in bed please!

Ns!fw. 18+ only!!

Ohohohohohohoh

Genuinely excited to do a nsfw request but Ik full well I’m gonna be squealing into my pillow jdjfjfidb

I know this ain’t gonna be good but I’m hoping I’ve read enough of this stuff to at least know what I’m doing 💀

Warnings: Lots of sexy touches and words (idk what warnings to put ya’ll it’s gn so I couldn’t be too specific aaaaa) established relationship, very soft smut! Gn!reader, swearing, praise, slight power play in Childes, uhhh that’s about it I think??

Characters: Childe, Diluc, Xiao.

Childe~

Something feels cursed about using “childe” in a nsfw but we’ll bypass that for now

He’s so horny for you most of the time

He knew that whenever he encouraged and praised you during your sparring, it always sparked something in your eyes

And he liked it

So of course why wouldn’t he use the same tactics while he’s buried in between your legs <3

They way you moan out his name and dig your nails into his skin whenever he reminds you how good you’re being for him makes childe go wilde (I’m sorry)

Something about the way you craved his approval and praise just did things to him

Like you wanted to be good for him and no one else

Maybe he’ll give you a reward for being so good~

“You’re being so good for me baby~”

The ginger mumble out his words against your neck causing you to shiver at the vibrations.

You both had been sparing today and going a lot harder at it than usual causing one fight to end up with him pinning you to the ground with a massive smirk.

“You’re not half bad at this y’know? I’m almost inclined to say you’re good”

Hearing those words, your cheeks flushed pink as you rubbed your thighs together. Something about the way he praised you while making you feel so powerless had your whole body craving more.

Of course Childe being the little shit he is, noticed your reaction and being the kind, wonderful boyfriend that he is, decided to test the waters a little~

Less than 30 minutes later he has you pressed up against a wall, his hand working it’s magic on your sex while he leaves pretty little bite marks along your neck and shoulder.

Feeling overwhelmed with pleasure you couldn’t help but moan out his name and beg for him to keep going no matter what.

“I love it when you’re this desperate for me Y/N”

“You’re being so good for me sweetheart, just a little longer, I know you can do it~”

As his praises continued to flow and his toying with your body didn’t look like it would be ending any time soon, you knew that it was definitely for the best to cancel tomorrow’s commissions for the sake of your poor legs~

Diluc~

He’s a gentleman so he’d natural want to praise his precious love~

He’s a very strong man so when he’s not making sure that you’re ok he’s whispering in your ear and telling you how well you’re taking him <3

Man definitely has size to him

So of course he’d want to praise you for being able to take him all in~

He’s so gentle towards you too!

When he’s not making sure you’re ok then he’s making sure to tell you that you’re doing a good job and making him feel amazing~

It had been a long day at angels share after the KOF swore in a new member and venti decided to sneak into the tavern leaving both you and your beloved feeling frustrated to say the least.

Which is why you were now happily kneeling in between Dilucs legs as his strong hand gently caressed your head while you pleasingly took his length into your mouth.

“Darling you’re taking me all in so well~”

His words were always so sincere and caring towards you, always making sure you knew how much he loves you and his gentle encouragement gave you the confidence you needed when it came to seggsi time!

“Mmm..I’m so lucky to have you, you know that, love?”

“You always know how to make me feel amazing~”

You’d never be able to admit it but you’ve grown to always find yourself feeling certain…ways when ever he praises you.

And he’ll never admit that he knows~

Xiao~

Inhales

My bOY!!!!

He’s so scared that he’s gonna hurt you

So he always makes sure to check up on you ever chance he gets!

He also makes sure to tell you how good you make him feel~

After all he’s been through it’s rare for him to have moments of relief so of course he’s want you to know how much you’re helping him~

He’s not experienced but he’s smart

Give him some time and he’ll learn everything you enjoy!

He isn’t one for making much noise in bed but if you ask him to praise you more then he’ll happily oblige~

“A… Archon’s Y/N, you’re taking me so well~”

Xiao’s and your relationship was unique to say the least.

Never in a million years would he of thought that a mortal would make him feel so many new emotions and sensations.

After first meeting you on the plains outside wangshu inn and then continuing to bump into you repeatedly afterwards, he started feeling his affections for you grow and very slowly he grew brave enough to admit them to you.

To think all of that seemed like such a long time ago now as both of you are flustered, breathy messes in Xiao’s rarely used Inn room after today seemed to shower you both with crushing tension that not even Xiao could fight against for too long.

“Y… you feel so good..”

Xiao had a habit of softly biting your neck whenever he praised you, letting out soft hisses of pleasure whenever you started to quicken your pace along his length while you gripped onto his dark, soft hair.

Occasionally you’d feel him let out a deep growl from his chest when you called out his name in pleasure, almost like just your voice was enough to drive him wild~

“I’ve never felt anything like this before”

“Please don’t stop yet Qingxin, you make me feel so good I… I need more”

It was a rare sight to see the adepti so needy and in such pure bliss like this.

You couldn’t help finding his flustered pouts absolutely adorable when you tease him later about all his sweet words but neither of you can deny your special connection and Xiao would do everything in his power to remind you of that.

Naked or not~

Ya’ll I’m sorry if this is bad, it’s my first time writing seggsie stuff and I’ve been working on this for days 💀

I shall start working on the other requests now as I’m starting to feel better and ya’ll are being generous with the ideas :p

510 notes · View notes

jhuzen · 1 year

Note

could u write kaveh diluc or kaeya with an obsessive m reader? like yandere type (or just obsessive whatever u want) I love the way u write them ur my fav blog

following elysium [m.reader]

maaaaan i haven’t written anything yandere in a good while now. but i can’t say i don’t miss it. this takes me back to my obsession with yandere character arc (*coughs in yan asogi that i still obsess over in my drafts*) so this request will let me know if i’ve lost my touch. also, why pick between three when you can have all lolololll

𖦹 dark themes, yandere male reader (ranging from manipulative, to overprotective, to soft), manipulation everywhere (like a lot, i swear i’m not good at it irl or am i jkjk), obsessive themes, some mentions and allusions of death, some isolation, scare tactics, love bombing

𐂂 obsession is a lethal poison, and yet you’ve survived a gallon of doses.

Kaveh

Your sweet naïve little Kaveh was quite the adorable one, always so considerate, so willing to please and so eager to do what he can in order to satisfy you, a mere admiring client of his. A man that he knew that personally sought him out to the ends of Sumeru just to meet him and commission him. Just because for some reason, you had heard of him from the outskirts of this vast nation.

Oh truly what an honor it is.

If only he knew it took one smile from him and a small greeting from exactly just a year ago when he officially met you, that sent you spiraling into a mad obsession that longed to pursue him; if only he insisted to look inside the office you’ve kept him off of, he would have seen the altar that could rival any other archons out there; if only he had a lick of awareness in him, he would’ve seen that your devilishly charming smiles were indeed the work of something far more sinister.

Alas, he was your sweet little architect, unaware of your leering stares, gazes so predatory it could leave any prey scampering off, ready to pounce at him and just break him.

But you are a man of class, you knew your way around people’s hearts, and Kaveh’s weakness was the positive feedback he gets from his clients. He’s helping out of the goodness of his heart, after all, mora is not so much of an issue (to the point of him even incurring a debt), and he was even just as generous with you, refusing the pounds of mora that you were willing to lay at his feet (though you send him away with heaps still).

And as your gaze flitted from the blueprints of your master’s bedroom renovation to the man currently in charge of it, a small smile wormed its way to your face. Truly your esteemed genius architect is a lovely one, how lucky were you that you met him on that particular day.

“Hm… I don’t think with the way we’ve recently renovated your hallways, your bedroom pans out at all,” his bottom lip stuck out into an adorable pout, and it took every cell in your body to control the maddening urge to kiss them, to bite them until you even get a taste of him.

“Is that so?” You casually leaned over, drawing yourself nearer than normal. And heaven swallowed you whole when you got a whiff of that familiar honey scented shampoo that Kaveh often used (you’ve made a note of buying more in stock once you’ve enacted the final steps in your little plan).

However, even that lovely scent wasn’t enough to keep your attention away from the way Kaveh stiffened, from the way his grip around the parchment of your blueprint significantly tightened to the point of ripping it apart, from the way his breath hitched.

“I— A-Ah! Um! Yes—!”

From the way his voice cracked — those red eyes peered up at you — to the way those gazes of his became increasingly fonder and more frenzied, much like yours, but less subtle. Kaveh was always bad at hiding how he truly feels, and it made it easier for you to trap him in your little cage, to snip away his wings until he’s fully tied down to you.

You tilted your head, cocking an eyebrow as you put him in his place, rendering him almost speechless when he briskly turned back to the blueprint, wide-eyed and flustered. How adorable.

“Well, I trust that you know how our transactions are, my dear,” your tone was suave and smooth, practiced to perfection, and the same way with your movements that were calculated for precision, ensnaring your poor unsuspecting Kaveh. You took a lock of his hair in your hand, twirling it around as you attempted to find his averted gaze. “Go all out. Mora is not an issue.”

Kaveh’s head stuttered as he nodded, his trembling hands barely able to release the poor blueprint from his vice grip. He somehow didn’t know why, but there were recent changes about you in the few and far between times that he sees you for your personal consultation. Kaveh thought it sweet really, that you would go out of your way to contact a grand and comfortable enough transportation to take him to your home instead of making him walk a hundred miles just to do so (despite his initial insistence to do it instead).

You were the first client that has been so generous with praises and mora when it comes to your payment, and while the architect can afford to be modest about accepting your financial payment, even he couldn’t hide the metaphorical wagging of his tail should you even grace him one compliment for his efforts. Don’t get him wrong though, he knows he’s good, how else could he have graduated with honors if not?

Nevertheless, your approval was something Kaveh continuously sought, until every letter of commission you sent him suddenly had him mistaking it for a letter of something more… intimate, something that held a rather romantic connotation.

He took your kindness for something more, unknowing of your ulterior motives, blissfully unaware about the obsession that gets you high, and absolutely clueless about the fact that ten of your men — the ones that greeted him so jovially as they gave him a ride to your grand home — had their eyes on his every move on the days he would be off back home, acting as your eyes, all perfectly ready to execute someone should they harm a hair on his head.

Thoughts of you became even more intrusive the more he met with you, Kaveh found you addicting, and he even felt ashamed of the fact that he did so. You’re his client! He shouldn’t be so emotionally involved in the first place. He was there to do his job that you commissioned him for.

But a moment of clarity soon encompassed him when he realized that he has previous engagements to this. That he shouldn’t be staying the night at your home once more to work on renovating your bedroom.

“Ah… I just remembered…” Kaveh’s frown was unmistakable, and suddenly the feeling of eagerness of him meeting up with his friends at the usual tavern was replaced with blatant hesitance at the thought of leaving you. But he quickly shook it off, turning back to you, “Hey… I hope you don’t mind if I can postpone our work for now…”

Where did you get that wine?

Your gaze lifted from the swirling burgundy in your glass, “Oh? How come? Need some inspiration?”

“I just remembered I promised to meet with my friends tonight. It’s only once a month.”

Your lips almost turned down into a disdainful scowl but opted for a small, reserved disappointed frown, “Ah. I see. How disappointing that is,” you murmured, but it was enough for Kaveh to hear. Deceitfully disheartened, like practiced and the way Kaveh’s eyebrows furrowed in concern was enough of a reaction.

“It wouldn’t be for too long though! I’ll be back tomorrow!” The hesitation crept up on him and it showed in the tone of his voice. Desperation soon followed when his body turned to face yours, a sign of vulnerability and submission in this situation. “It’s not… it’s not as if I’m leaving or anything.”

You heaved a sigh, “But that would be too much on you, making you come all the way back and even after spending some time with your friends too.” You can only thank the lucky stars that you were a son of a theatre actor from Fontaine, it sure came in handy.

“No, I can definitely make it! You’re my best client, I can’t afford to—”

Kaveh’s frantic saving was quickly interrupted when you decided to go in for the kill, “Like I said, I don’t wish to run you ragged… and my family will come and visit soon.” You snapped your fingers, looking at Kaveh with feigned curiosity, “Ah, yes. Might you know any other capable architects? Surely I can’t expect the same work like yours, but someone who would not disappoint would be enough.”

His red eyes immediately went wide, completely baffled at your suggestion. You were willing to replace him? Just like that?

“I…” Kaveh looked down, suddenly meek. “I don’t know anyone who can do that much,” he muttered despite knowing otherwise. He was kind to his fellow architects, but surely he can afford to be selfish about you just this once?

He failed to see the way your eyes shone with satisfaction, contrasting you disheartened tone, “Hm… pity that is…”

Well. Missing one night wouldn’t hurt, right?

Kaveh looked back up at you, “I… I suppose I can afford to just show up next time. We do these hangouts all the time anyway,” his words completely contrasted his claim of scarce meets earlier, but it was more than enough for you to know how quickly he gave in. “Ah, whatever. I’m sure those guys can handle themselves.”

“Are you certain?” You asked, tilting his head up with a hand on his chin, almost getting lost into those ruby reds of his. “I’d hate for you to miss such an important engagement.”

And before he knew it, he willingly embraced the shadows, engulfing every part of him, leaving none untouched. It swallowed him whole, like a limitless void, with no one left to even save him, forgetting anyone else but you and only you.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind staying with you.”

You tapped the rim of your glass on his lip, pouring that familiar wine in the small gap of his lips that you’ve graced him on the many nights he would stay to work on your home renovations. You watched with pure delight as Kaveh’s eyes grew hazy and unfocused — left with nothing but with the manipulated admiration for you.

“Good. Let’s enjoy the night, shall we?”

𐂂

Kaeya

The infamous Cavalry Captain has no one to blame but himself, really. Even as your superior, he knew no bounds when it comes to reserving himself. He always flaunted himself at you, like a fashionable bird that that preened its wings on the daily just to show off. He was flashy, mouthy, and unbearably attractive.

Being placed under him was hell for all the different reasons. You were constantly in his presence — and you had to shoulder the patience of the kindest archon in existence to resist anything remotely impulsive. You had to be near him in proximity, always around him, accompanying him from the most mundane errands to the most hectic missions.

And while Captain Kaeya was he shining beacon between you and him, you were the dark shadow that walked behind him. It wasn’t your fault, he asked you so himself.

“This guy’s going to shadow me, hope you have no objections to that, Acting Grandmaster,” was what you heard on that one fateful day, before finding your pristine uniform getting remotely crinkled as he dragged you away without breaking a sweat.

Since that day, no person in Monstadt can claim that they’ve seen Kaeya without you, or you without him. It was almost like fate, except it was a fate that forged a bond from the depths of abyss — a bond that embodied nothing but a push and pull relationship, the distance and proximity, the obsession and submission.

You had to watch him put himself out there, when you can just as easily drag that information from someone if you asked with a blade on their throat; that usually gets people talking. But he dismissed you easily, and let you stew in the cesspool of madness that his actions slowly created.

And you were none the wiser, you cleaned up the messes he made, you made sure to silence the people once they came into their senses that they’ve been bested by yet again the sniveling calvary captain of the order.

All of his commands, you obeyed without complaint.

And oddly enough, it brought you a sense of comfort. That he trusts you this much, that he’s willing to let you go rampant in exchange for his safety — one that you never failed on doing. All of it, to keep him safe.

Until recently, you found it inconvenient to let him off without a leash. Seeing him come home from an excursion with scratches that decorated his poor body — adding further into those battle scars that you’ve once had the displeasure of seeing when he asked you to aid him into wrapping himself with a handful of bandages — and it wasn’t the greatest sight. You fussed over him like a mother hen, never once letting him out of your sight.

You were rewarded with a grateful side-hug from the captain, and it was enough to fuel your mission in protecting him.

“Ah! Captain! Should I accompany you today?” You asked as you approached him with a blinding grin — in fact so blinding, he had to squint his one good eye. For a shadow, you sure are bright. Perhaps Kaeya was mistaken when he said you were going to be his behind-the-scenes guy.

Kaeya found you adorable, in all honesty. You had an exuberant energy within you that went unparalleled, and on days that he personally needed someone to pick him up when everything weighed down on him, it seemed like you almost had a sixth sense for it and was almost always by his side. Not that he minded — he was grateful above all else. And on days when the drunkard bard or Rosaria weren’t around to keep him company, he trusts that you have some reserved liquor in your home so he can drink away his problems and still be fine in his sleep.

If only he knew how hard you stared at him, obsessively looking him over while you slowly drowned in your fantasies — one of which him finally being chained to you, devoted and stuck waiting at home while you defend his honor without him having to harm himself in the process.

“There you are, missed me already?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

You did. You couldn’t sleep a wink, knowing that you weren’t around to protect him.

You scratched your head and laughed, “Aw, don’t be so mean captain. I only care about your wellbeing!”

“Hm~? How sweet… sure wouldn’t hurt to have you around every now and then.”

You have been. You prowled around his remote home, kicking stones and staring longingly in the window, ready to pounce at anyone who seemed vaguely threatening.

Kaeya thought how endearing you might be if you were to be his, but with the mission he carries on his back, he wonders if it’s even worth it having you, only to betray you in the end. He wonders if you can betray your own homeland for him.

You would, without question. You will lay a hundred corpses of the Order’s knights at his feet should he ask.

“Don’t tease me so much, captain,” your pout was enough to lift his spirits from that asinine thought. “Now, where are you going? I’ll go prepare my things.”

“Just heading up to Dragonspine to meet with the chief investigator. It shouldn’t be too hard, so you can just stay here and enjoy a bit of downtime, yeah? Go bother my brother if you want, you have my full permission.”

You frowned and Kaeya suddenly felt a chill crawl through his spine. You never did expressed such a disappointment even on the most difficult situations, and it suddenly feels like he made a mistake in refusing you. Perhaps it was because you towered over him so easily, perhaps it was because you could catch him without even trying that Kaeya suddenly felt so small in comparison to you.

The tension lasted for a good minute, silence engulfed the both of you and Kaeya has never felt so uncomfortable in his own skin. Should he have taken his answer back? But really, there was no need for you to escort him in the first place.

You then broke the silence with a quiet, dispirited sigh.

“Okay, but please keep safe, alright?” You patted the captain’s cheeks, sending him a small smile before heading off.

Kaeya didn’t like the way the guilt gnawed in his chest.

And while you also didn’t like an act of betrayal, you found it necessary at times — times when lessons had to be taught. The Acting Grandmaster said so herself, that experience is the best teacher.

Kaeya trudged through the coldness of Dragonspine, completely hating the fact that he had no company now. Maybe he should’ve just agreed to your proposition, and you looked so sad too! Like a kicked puppy that was told to sleep outside in the cold night. He couldn’t bear the thought of you looking so sad — you were his partner, of course you should’ve come!

Alas, the feelings of being attached to someone burdened him so, and while he sought your brightest and warmest of smiles, he couldn’t muster the courage to see it fall on the day that he fulfills what he knows would be his inevitable fate in the long run.

However all his rumination came into a halt the moment he heard a roar that thundered quite literally just beside him.

Kaeya had little time to think the moment the beast emerged from the towering trees of the mountains, his head blanking as he watched it lunge towards him with great speed. His hand that went up to the hilt of his sword suddenly froze the very moment he realized he was a little too late.

Closing his eye shut, he braced for the impact until suddenly, the beast roared and he could hear the familiar sickening sound of a blade piercing through the flesh.

Mere seconds were all it took for him to regain his breathing, his ears ringing as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. He now wonders if he really should’ve taken you up on your offer on escorting him in the first place, sure would’ve eased the guilt he felt inside and maybe he wouldn’t have to space out in the middle of his trail.

“Captain! Are you okay?!”

His eye flew open, seeing your angelic face that held nothing but pure concern for him. He glanced back at the slain beast and back to you, pupils dilated — you were here. Here. And you protected him.

He stayed still, watching in bated breath as you dropped your bloodied greatsword that stained the thick coat of snow. You smiled a little, brushing away a few strands of hair from his face, “There’s my captain. Are you alright? Did it hurt you?”

“Y…You’re here…?”

You blinked before laughing, bashful and what Kaeya can consider as remotely adorable in any other day, “Ah… yeah. I know you said I can’t come… but I can’t help it! What if you were in trouble and I wasn’t there to protect you? So I came and good thing I did!”

Kaeya’s lips trembled, before lunging in to hug you tight, almost sending you tumbling into the snow. You quickly returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him tight. You patted his back, rubbing circles to soothe your poor little captain.

“There, there. From now on, let’s stick together, okay?”

The captain nodded into your shoulder, looking up to look at the unmoving beast that laid in the snow.

He does wonder though… since when were wild beasts in this mountain leashed?

𐂂

Diluc

To the citizens of Mondstadt, their uncrowned king remains as cold and as untouchable as he can be. He rarely interacted with anyone, and was almost always either cooped up in his manor, or out in other nations to further propagate his empirical business in the wine industry. He was always on the move, and people admired him for that.

And you were willing to bet your entire life that their admiration would grow tenfold when they realized that Diluc was the unsung Darknight Hero that terrorized every monsters that hoped to wreak havoc in the lives of the citizens.

Alas, the situation remains as it were, with him completely aloof to the people, leaving either a terrifying impression, or one that could leave someone seething at his unwelcoming tendencies.

But you would be remiss to blindly agree to that. In fact, you vehemently denied those claims as you remained by his side, like a loyal watchdog for him to command as he so pleases.

He was your savior first before your now superior. Diluc was your beacon of hope on the very day he rescued you from the cold rain, ostracized from your nation that you once loved and now left with a gaping void on your chest. You could still remember the feeling of that cold rain while you trudged within the Dawn Winery’s vicinity, when suddenly the rain stopped pelting harshly on you as a pair of shoes entered your field of vision.

You could still remember his words echo within your ears.

“You’re going to get sick. Come inside and let the rain pass at least.”

The rest was history after that, and now you sat as the elusive and capable butler of the famed prolific young man of the Ragnvindr clan. Though in fairness, you weren’t particularly elusive, and Adelinde can attest to that.

She has never seen someone handle their Master Diluc so delicately. She could sing her praises to you endlessly, with your attentive nature, and you willingness to serve Diluc without even an ounce of hesitation. You’ve certainly earned your keep in their eyes, and even the pyro vision wielder can see your dedication towards him.

There was always something with the way you carried yourself the moment you started working under the Ragnvindr house, you first started off as a mere novice in caring for the house, until you rapidly climbed up the ranks as Diluc’s personal attendant, aiding him in his home as well as his monthly international trips to ensure his safety.

Really, it wasn’t much to be praised for. You were only doing your job, and it’s a job that you found yourself intensely passionate for. To be with Diluc was an honor, to serve the man that saved you from your untimely demise, returning his actions with so much more than what was on offer.

Your service was something that toed between your gratefulness and a borderline obsession.

You gave what you can and Diluc was nothing but completely enamored with you, from your lofty smiles that felt like heaven, to your assisting hands that traced against his shoulders on mornings where you helped him get dressed for the day. All of it was slowly drawing him in. You were perfect, too perfect in fact, and it haunted poor Diluc that knew nothing but pain and betrayal.

“Master Diluc, I believe there is merit to getting some sleep after working so hard,” your smile was light and airy, and it was already a breath of fresh air from the contrasting suffocating environment that was filled to the brim with mindless drunks.

Diluc made a quiet noise of agreement (his mouth barely had the strength to move after talking to so many patrons of his), yet his feet begged to differ as it led him up to his office without skipping a beat.

You folded his coat in your arms and trailed after him, “So then why am I seeing you opening the door to what I believe is not your bedroom door?” You inquire with a croon, lovingly watching the way his hand hesitated to find the doorknob. It was a sign that he heeded your little advice and your little heart that was filled to the brim with love for your master couldn’t help but swell with pride and increase in rate, almost spilling over.

“I have… some reports to attend to. If I can finish it tonight, it would be less burden on me tomorrow,” Diluc reasoned, but it was clear that he was slowly caving into your whims, just the way you like it.

He was inexplicably weak towards you for some reason — something not a lot of people could achieve despite working for him or with him for a good while.

“Would it be wise to tend to them while completely exhausted?”

Once again, you’ve put him in a difficult place. You’re a cunning man, unfortunately for him, able to wriggle in some moments of logic into his brain that prioritized his duties over his own wellbeing. And for some reason, concerning as it is, his brain feels intoxicated as it sways to your will, completely subservient and willing to abide despite the fact that you were his servant and he was the commanding authority in your relationship.

Diluc feels it sometimes — the unsettling feeling of being squeezed tight, like a python coiling around his body as it suffocated him with love and care. His movements are restricted and he was unable to break free from that tightening grasp.

It was almost hard to breathe, but at the same time there was sick sense of comfort that was lodged into the back of his mind. He liked it. It was the affection that he was deprived of, leaving him writhing in the loneliness that he was forced to soldier through. And when you came to him on that one night, you gave him what he needed but not asked for.

You made him feel like he’s worth something, and it made him want to vie for a life worth something as well. It was a feeling that he could get high off of, and you were willing donor to whatever it was that he lacked.

And before he knew it, he sat at his tub comfortably, completely bare and vulnerable while you continued to wash his hair with such gentle hands. Never has he known a touch so kind like yours and he was ready to get lost within it.

“Feeling better?” Your voice coos at his ear, sickeningly sweet and yet he submits himself into it with reckless abandon. Your hands moved from his hair, leaving the most addicting touches as you traced your fingertips from the nape of his neck right to his shoulders that were filled with tension.

“Much,” Diluc muttered, head turning up as his half-lidded eyes met yours, still filled with that irresistible fondness that he grew to be addictive of. “Thank you, [Name].”

You smiled, succinct yet saccharine while your hands worked away the kinks and knots away from your master’s incredibly tensed muscles.

For him, you would give your all, even if it meant to face death. You would throw away anything else because a world without your endearing master is a world not worth living for. You will serve him until the world falls to your feet, and if given the chance, you will do what you can to protect him even beyond your useless life that long passed.

He was your savior and now you were a devout believer — one that worships his master with little to no hesitation. You can beat any other nun or the beloved deacon of that measly church with how much love and devotion you were willing to show him. Hell, even if you can’t, if it’s what Diluc wants, you would do well with dying as you try and make the impossible completely possible just for him.

Your love through subservience was quick to snuff out the wings your master once embodied to soar freely. He slowly caved into you, in need and constantly hungry for more, unaware of his growing dependence on your presence.

“It’s no problem, my lord. I will serve and tail you until the ends of this world. And even in my death, I am yours to command and to have.”

Diluc mirrored your smile, albeit much more tired than your sweet one.

He was the willing prey and you were the loving predator.

The unmistakably perfect match.

#i just realized the line up is reversed alphabetical #hm #ok maybe my sanity will be alright #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x yandere reader #yandere male reader #kaveh x male reader #kaeya x male reader #diluc x male reader #jhuzen’s stupid scenarios #jhuzen’s stupid one shots #LMAO idk if yall noticed but i took some inspo from the usual tropes of love interest that u see in otome games #the rich rich classy guy for kaveh #the himbo but not rlly secretly for kaeya #the caring and gentle servant for diluc #hope i pleased u with this anon #and tysm i feel honored to be a favorite of yours <3 #even tho my ass is a slow poster hoowee

509 notes · View notes

grandline-fics · 5 months

Note

Hello! I loved your sanji fic and was wondering if you can write another one where readers hearing aids broke and in the meantime of usopp fixing them, reader just stays in the kitchen as they feel safer there with Sanji. (Requesting this because my hearing aids broke during school and I’ve been feeling a little down lately ;-; also a little extra if you want to add into this, sanji realizes they are really sad without it and like he tries to cheer them up by writing on a paper that he wants to learn sign language. Or like he knows a little sign language and tries to communicate with them and it makes reader really happy and they help teach him more signs. Maybe he asks how to sign I Love you and signs it to them—jkjk

But feel free to write whatever you feel comfortable with \(0v0)/

DESCRIPTION: When your hearing aids break, Sanji’s there to keep you company and cheer you up

WARNINGS: depictions of a deaf/hearing impaired reader, some angst mostly fluff

CHARACTERS: Sanji

WORDS: 849

A/N: I'm so sorry you've been feeling down because of your own hearing aids being broken but I hope you're doing better now and that this helps. Really hope you like it <3

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

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

You knew that it was an accident but still you couldn’t help but feel upset by it all. Upset at Luffy for getting too excited about an island coming into view and knocking into you as you were passing your hearing aid over to Usopp so he could do some routine maintenance on them causing them to fall to the deck. You were upset that you didn’t act fast enough and that Nami came storming forward to scold your Captain only for her foot to crush the very thing you needed to hear the lecture. You didn’t need to hear the impact or look down to see that your hearing aids were broken, her and Usopp’s expressions said it all.

Now you were left sitting in the kitchen, waiting for Usopp to work on the lengthy repairs while the others were off exploring. That was another thing to feel upset about. Slowly you lifted your gaze from the table you’d been resting your chin on to look at the cook who’d volunteered to stay behind too.You couldn’t help the sickening guilt twisting in your stomach as you watched him work on meal prep for the evening meal when the others returned. Sanji didn’t have to stay here and you knew he’d been looking forward to going to a new island in search of new ingredients for his cooking and yet now because of you- in some aspect at least- he didn’t get to go.

You tried to tell yourself that Sanji was a grown man and was capable of making his own decisions but deep down you knew he was only staying behind because of you. While the two of you had feelings for each other and were prone to flirting, nothing had actually happened between you both. You sighed slightly, wishing that you could make this whole sorry mess up to him in some way. Suddenly Sanji’s gaze lifted from the vegetables he’d been cutting and he looked to you with concern and he offered you a reassuring smile. Quickly you folded your arms on the table and lowered your head to rest against them. It made you feel worse to see him smile at you that way.

Sanji’s smile fell when you hid your face away, dejected and not your usual bright self. This was why he insisted on staying with you, he knew you would blame yourself for this. He also knew that had Nami or Luffy stayed behind instead they would have clumsily tried to apologise and cheer you up in their own way which would no doubt make you feel worse. As he finished the last of the prep he slowly worked out how best to approach this. Just because your hearing aids were out of commission until Usopp worked his magic didn’t mean you’d suddenly changed. You were still you.

With your head still down you didn’t fully sense Sanji’s approach, thinking the subtle vibrations of his feet against the ground to be just him moving about the kitchen as normal. However you felt the dim thud of something being left on the table beside your elbow. Peeking out from behind your arm you were met with the sight of your favourite drink and snack waiting for you while Sanji casually slid into one of the free seats at the table with you. He couldn’t help the wide grin on his face when he saw the sadness flit away to be replaced with excited delight. After smiling brightly and pulling the food closer you set about enjoying what he’d made for you.

Sanji smiled softly, it was a good first step in cheering you up but there was still more he could do and there was something he’d been working on. He just hoped he didn’t mess this up. Seeing that you’d almost finished your comfort food he lightly tapped your hand to get your attention. When you met his gaze you saw that he was suddenly anxious, tense and you became concerned. Then you watched him lift his hands and shakily begin to sign.

“I was going to surprise you when I was better.” He began nervously, deciding to speak the words as well. It was a relief that you knew how to read lips, the last thing he wanted was for anything to be lost in his clumsy movements. “But if anyone needs cheering up, it’s you. Your face is too beautiful to be hidden away and sad. I’ve been learning from a book Robin had but maybe you could teach me properly?”

Extremely touched by the surprise gesture that he’d no doubt been learning very hard to accomplish, you couldn’t help but break out into happy tears and nod. Only Sanji would go above and beyond like this and it was all for you. “Thank you.” You signed and wiped your tears away to look at him properly with warmth and gratitude.

“It’s a date.” Sanji replied with his usual charming smile before reaching over to take your hands into his and placing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

#one piece #one piece fic #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece scenario #one piece imagines #sanji x reader #sanji x you #black leg sanji #one piece fanfiction #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #sanji vinsmoke

219 notes · View notes

greynatomy · 9 months

Text

A Chance

Lexie Grey x Fem!Reader

My first grey’s anatomy imagine! Decided to write a fic on what inspired my name.

If you have any requests/ fix ideas you want me to write, take a look at my commissions page on ko-fi. You can find it on my Masterlist pinned to the top of my page!

Let me know what you think!

-grey

masterlist

———

Throughout Lexie’s intern year, Mark and Lexie have been dancing around their romantic feelings to each other.

… Or so everyone thought.

Derek and Meredith got so fed up in the two that they decided that they would take matters into their own hands.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?”

Mark looks up from his tablet at the nurse’s station. “What?”

“You give her all these looks and won’t even ask her out.”

“She doesn’t feel the same way.”

“I call bullshit. She gives you the same looks.”

“Really?” Mark looks at him, intrigued.

“Yes, so ask her out sometime soon.”

After a few seconds of thinking, “Help me plan the perfect date.”

———

At the cafeteria, Meredith sees Lexie sitting at a table on her own eating her lunch. She observes her sister for a bit, seeing her smiling very big at her phone, making her wonder what was it that is making her so happy. She swiftly walks to her sister and sits down on the unoccupied chair.

“Uh, hi?” Lexie confusedly looks at Meredith.

“When are you gonna stop ignoring your feelings from Mark?”

After hearing those worlds, Lexie chokes on whatever she was drinking. Caught completely off guard to what her sister just said.

“I do not have feelings for Mark! What made you think that?”

“Oh, yeah? Come on! You give each other these looks that screams that you want to drag each other in an on call room.”

Wide-eyed, Lexie couldn’t even think of what to say.

“Look. I don’t know how to came to that conclusion, but I can assure you I don’t have these feelings that you’re saying I have. I’ve never even thought about him that way.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Nope!”

“Well, why not? Mark is totally in love with you.”

“Until he says that, I won’t believe him. But if he did I would reject his advances because that would make me unfaithful.”

With that, Lexie walks away.

“Unfaithful?” Meredith asks herself.

———

It’s now a few days after. The workday was done for Lexie. She was ready to just go home and sleep the night away until she has to come back to work, don’t knowing of a surprise coming her way. Or multiple surprises.

As she’s walking out to the exit of the hospital, she hears quick footsteps behind her.

“Hey, Lexi.”

“Hi, Mark. What’s up?”

“Uh, well, I was just wondering if you have some time after work tomorrow? For some dinner.”

“Like a date?”

“Yes.” He replied confidently.

Not far away, Meredith and Derek are watching the interaction.

“She’s definitely going to say yes.” Derek stated with a smile.

Meredith looks at him sheepishly. “IforgottotellyouthatwhenItalkedtoLexieshesaidthatshewouldturnMarkdownbecauseshedoesn’tseehimanywayromanticatall.” She said very quickly all in one breath.

“Say that agin, but slower.”

“I forgot to tell you that when I talked to Lexie she said that she would turn Mark down because she doesn’t see him any way romantic at all.”

“What?! Why didn’t you tell me.”

“I don’t know! I didn’t believe her, but I should’ve believed her cause she said something about feeling the same way would make her unfaithful.”

“So, she’s in a relationship?”

“I think so.”

“So, Marks gonna get his heart broken?”

“Probably.”

Back with Mark and Lexie, Lexie is speechless while Mark looks hopeful.

“Look, Mark.” She pauses, trying to find the right words. “I am flattered, but I don’t feel anything romantic towards you.”

“What? But Derek said that we look each other the same.”

“Well he was probably seeing things cause I don’t look at you any other way but friendly.”

“Can’t you just give me a chance. Just one date and after you can tell me to stop if you still don’t feel the same.”

“I can’t. Besides…” Lexie looks away, which happens to be over by the door. At that moment she sees someone walk in holding a bouquet of flowers, wearing an army uniform, taking the beret off their head. Lexi becomes wide-eyed, not believing who she’s seeing.

At the same time, the person looks up, meeting Lexie’s eyes. Her eyes light up, holding up the bouquet of flowers. Lexie completely forgets about Mark and runs past him, jumping into the arms of this woman.

“Oh my god! How are you here? I thought I wouldn’t see you until next week?” She said into his neck, arms clinging onto her.

“I lied.” She said, chuckling into her hair. “Wanted to surprise you.”

Meredith and Derek took this time to walk up to Mark who had a confused and hurt expression on her face as Lexie pushed past him, essentially forgetting about their conversation.

“What just happened?” Meredith was the one to break the silence.

“I have no clue.”

“I asked her to give me a chance at on date to see if her mind changes, but she said no.”

“That’s probably the person she’s in a relationship with then.”

“She’s in a relationship and you didn’t tell me?” Mark asked Derek, hurt.

“I didn’t know until a couple minutes ago. Meredith knew, but didn’t believe her.”

“Even if she’s in a relationship, I usually still get the girl.” Derek looks at him with a face that says ‘really.’ “Right… sorry.”

A few more moments of watching the two embrace, Mark clears his throat cause the two to break apart and look at the others.

“Oh, yeah. Come here.” Lexie says, grabbing the woman’s hand, pulling her towards the group. “These are my friends Mark, Derek, and Meredith.”

“Meredith, your sister?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you all.”

“How do you know Lexie?” Marks straightforwardly asks.

“Uh, well we met in high school actually. Sophomore year, specifically.”

“So, been friends ever since.”

“Best friends. She’s actually my ex-girlfriend.”

“You guys dated?” Mark asks, at the same time Lexie says, “You need to stop calling me your ex-girlfriend.”

You look at her with a smirk. “It’s true though.”

“I’m confused.” Derek speaks up.

“She always introduces or calls me her ex-girlfriend whenever we meet new people.”

“I’m still confused.”

“We’re married, but she technically is my ex-girlfriend because now she’s my wife. And that makes us in-laws.” You clarify, looking towards Derek and Meredith.

As the in-laws converse, Mark is stuck in his own head, reeling back to all the times Lexie could’ve reciprocated his same feelings, but now that he really thought about it, she never showed any signs of it.

“Well, we should go. I’m exhausted and I’m sure this one is too.” Lexie said, the whole day of work finally getting to her. “And Mark. I hope you find someone that is right for you.” With that, she grabs your hand and intertwines it with yours, pulling you to her car.

You both walk away, oblivious to the three staring at your retreating figures.

“We all didn’t read the situation correctly, I guess.” Meredith speaks up, still staring at her sister and husband.

“Don’t worry Mark, you’ll find someone.” Derek pats Mark on the shoulder. They both leave him, walking away, holding onto each other.

Mark is still staring at the both of you, seeing you pick Lexie up bridal style, her arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you into a kiss, smiling at each other as you pull away.

Still wishing that Lexie was his to love, Mark is content that she’s happy and loved, even it it’s not with him.

#grey’s anatomy x reader #grey’s anatomy #grey’s anatomy imagine #grey’s abc #lexie grey x reader #lexie grey #lexie grey imagine #meredith grey #derek shepherd #mark sloan #merder

286 notes · View notes