#floral embroidered pillow

[miarren-chill-klaine]

Traditional Living Room in Seattle

Inspiration for a large, traditional open-concept living room remodel with a medium-tone wood floor, green walls, a regular fireplace, a wood fireplace surround, and a wall-mounted television

#pillows #floral motif #couch #hand embroidered pillow #black pillows

[keisobe]

: 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 — (𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦 + 𝐥𝐨’𝐚𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲)

— from avatar 2 : way of the water (spoiler free!!)

contents. f! reader, reader is a na’vi, established relationships, teen romance, small kissing scenes, use of a pet name, all fluff + wc. 701

notes. this was really fun to write, though i struggled to write lo’ak around this time ㅠㅠ hope you guys enjoy tho!

NETEYAM 𖥔 ݁ . ༅ — “good girl.”

“hey!” your ears perked up when you heard a familiar voice, stopping you from observing the array of herbs and gleaming seeds that you needed to restock for your medical supplies.

turning your head, you see neteyam running through the patches of glossy leaves and fresh soil— a bright smile adorning his blue face. you couldn’t help but smile back, resuming back to arranging the seeds and herbs into different pouches as his footsteps became more distinct.

neteyam lingered behind you, amused by your fluid fingers hastily grinding apart certain herbs and seeds to make them into a fine powder— he was always fascinated by how attentive you are in becoming a healer. one day you’ll make an amazing tsahík.

“do you have the medicine for tuk?” he asks, swatting off the insects that flew near your dewy skin. you nodded in reply, rummaging through the purple woven basket that neteyam gifted you. the basket was embroidered with personal designs that were done by neteyam; it nearly took him a month to make.

“yes, i just made it a while ago,” you assured, the sounds of bottles clicking against each other and the intense fragrance of heady floral aroma filled neteyam’s senses.

“here it is,” without looking at him, you held the vial of green liquid behind you as he took it from your grasp— resuming back to stocking up on medicine.

neteyam knelt down to your level, leaning towards your pointed ear.

“good girl,” he muttered, patting your head gently before sweetly running his fingers through the locks of your hair.

your cheeks burned with an obvious blush, completely flustered by his word choice. but before you can comment on it, neteyam presses a quick peck on your slightly agape lips, returning back into the forest to tend to his little sister.

LO’AK 𖥔 ݁ . ༅ — “so pretty.”

the marui was lit with a burning lantern, only you and lo’ak lay awake in the night. he was longingly staring at the enchanting scenery through the entrance— milky white splotches and dashes of blue adorned the sky. you sat beside him, resting your head against his shoulder.

“this will never get old,” your voice cuts through the nightly air, the glowing waves sloshing beneath both of your feet.

lo’ak only hummed in reply, his eyelids feeling heavy with exhaustion. after swimming for most of the day, he couldn’t help but feel an ache penetrating through his muscles— recalling back to the crazy stunts he did to impress you.

you instantly noticed his fatigue and decided it was time to sleep. lo’ak felt your warmth disappear from his bare shoulder, he groaned from the loss of contact— a bubble of irritation coursing through his veins.

still, you managed to drag him deeper to the pod, despite all his slurring whines and poor attempts to blink away the sleep.

with a warm woven blanket and a plush pillow, you gently tucked lo’ak to sleep. he felt your fingertips smooth out the wrinkles of the sheets— slowly lulling him to sleep. your touch traveled towards his face, brushing off the stray braids that threaten to hide his yellow eyes.

for a little bit, you hummed a calming melody that your mother would always sing to you, helping you doze through the bad dreams. lo’ak watched the way your hair glistened under the dusky sky and the flutter of your lashes when you hummed the favorite part of your song.

he reached towards the hair that fell from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“so pretty,” lo’ak whispered, running his thumb on top of your balmy lips. warmth prickled onto your cheeks as he said that, relieved that the darkness could hide the color that developed on your skin.

before you could wish him a good night, lo’ak was fast asleep— a low purr exhaled from his mouth. you smiled at how peaceful he looked in his sleep, grazing a soft kiss onto his lips before your eyes wander back to the night sky.

© 2022 keisobe – please do not copy any of my writing and repost or translate to other sites.

#✩.*˚ — ina’s works🎂 #ੈ♡˳ — (atwow) 📁 #* ੈ♡˳ — (neteyam sully) 🎞️ #* ੈ♡˳ — (lo’ak sully) 🎞️ #— ౨ৎ ࣪ . ⊹ : drabbles #avatar fanfiction #neteyam x reader #lo’ak x reader #neteyam sully x reader #lo’ak sully x reader #avatar imagine #avatar headcanons #avatar way of water #avatar 2

[princessbrunette]

HOLD ME, KISS ME ♡

♪ the little dippers — forever ♪

WANTED: JOHN BOOKER ROUTLEDGE - SUSPECTED MURDER - $1000 REWARD - DANGEROUS! IF SPOTTED DO NOT APPROACH!

pairing: outlaw!johnb + sheltered!reader ⋆₊⊹♡

synopsis: your wishes come true when a beautiful boy is found sleeping peacefully in your barn. much to his surprise, you don’t care about who he is or what he has or hasn’t done — you just want to ensure he stays forever.

cw: mentions of prayer, religion and god (for plot purpose) reader has two parents, western!au, innocence kink, slight manipulation, mentions of crime, breeding kink, smut ♡

“Please deliver me a man, save me from this loneliness. Make him kind, and strong, and handsome. I vow to make him the happiest man alive.”

Your forehead rests against your clasped hands where you kneel beside your bed, speaking out loud as there was no one else to speak to. Your parents had gone on a trip for two weeks, leaving you in charge of the farmhouse all by your lonesome.

Isolated didn’t feel like the correct term. You were grateful, happy to live off the fat of your father’s land in the middle of nowhere, but sometimes you wished you had someone to share it with. Someone your own age who was there to see you. You had become the perfect host, thrilled when your parents would bring home guests once in a blue moon. You’d tie ribbons in your hair and pick the perfect dress and set the table like your mother taught you. You often imagined setting the table for a family of your own.

Your own farm house. The thought sent you off to sleep each night, walking through the home in your mind as if it were really real, feeling the creaking of the painted wooden porch beneath your feet as you enter, the distant cooing of your baby being comforted by your husband in the next room. White shabby-chic panels across the walls with oak furniture and knitted throw pillows and lots and lots of warm light. The kitchen table would have the perfect lace floral embroidered table cloth draped across it which you’d serve the heartiest dinners on each night. The babies room would be painted mint green, no— maybe pastel yellow, with handmade toys and a music box that played your song and oh, the master bedroom… where you and your husband rest your head would be flooded with natural light. A haven. All yours.

The details to the decoration often changed, new inspiration plucked from the papers that father would bring home and new favourite colours integrating themselves into your home plans but one thing remained the same each time. Your husband. He never had a face, but it wasn’t important. He was warm, strong without having to prove just how macho he was, kind— you could feel his love from the next room on. That was all you really wanted. You could forget the house, forget the land, live in a barn for all you care — you just wanted to experience a love like the ones in the fairytale books stacked high in your room.

It had been a week already of this routine you’d grown used to. You wake up, feed yourself and then the chickens, come inside, clean yourself and then the house, paint, crotchet or read — however the mood takes you, eat lunch, tend to the crops, brush the horses, maybe milk a cow, come inside and cook dinner, bathe, think about your dream husband and grind your wet messy cunt into a pillow, feel guilty, beg for forgiveness and then sleep. It was an easy life, and you couldn’t complain— but you couldn’t help feel the world had more to offer.

Your mother often told you that gifts from above come when you least expect it, you just had to keep your eyes open. You always wondered how one might find these gifts with no idea where to look.

Your gift arrived bright and early the next morning.

Well, not technically as early as it should have been, infact you probably nearly missed it. The roosters calls at 6AM each morning, but on that very day you had decided to sleep in. A few hours wouldn’t kill them, you think as you pull a plush white pillow to lay over your ear— it’s not like the chickens would starve.

At 11:45AM, you stumble bare foot onto the grass outside, setting out on your walk to the barn a little way up the land. Your pert nipples harden, awakened by the cool morning breeze as the thin white fabric of your nightdress blows in the wind. With the sunlight shining directly on it, it was sure to be totally and utterly see through— and you suppose that was one upside to living in the middle of nowhere, yards upon yards from civilisation. No one would see you. Sigh.

You feed the chickens, totally blind before it even occurs to you that anything might be astray. Infact, you don’t even seem to notice that the barn door was left ajar, as opposed to how you usually leave it bolted by a wooden slab to prevent the animals from wandering off or being massacred by foxes. You suppose that’s the price you pay for sleeping in, you live in dreamworld for the next few hours.

The Earth seems to stop turning for a moment when you see him.

You’re more curious than anything, wide eyed, holding your breath as to be totally silent despite having been humming and speaking to the chickens only a moment prior. You tiptoe through the hay, shards of straw sprouting between your painted toes and pin-needling your sole as you draw closer to the man. A fallen angel, your first thought.

He’s half curled up onto his side in the hay behind the stable for your white pony. He has thick-ish arms crossed over his chest, his hat laying over his face seeming to be serving as a purpose to block out the light. You figure as you hadn’t woken up him before, a closer inspection couldn’t hurt. Unhurriedly, you sink down into a squat beside him, knees pointed upwards and feet taking your balance. A real man, in your barn? It couldn’t be. You chew on your bottom lip, goggle-eyed and inquisitive as you cautiously lift the hat away from his face.

He doesn’t wake and you’re for some reason thankful. It gives you time to observe him, the breath all but knocked from your body as you take in just how beautiful he is. He was perfect, and just like what you were hoping for when you wished to be delivered a husband.

Dark eyelashes kissing at the rim of his closed eyes, pale lips and freckles, sunkissed across his nose. Your eyes trail over and across him, now with his face in mind taking in account what he looks like as a whole. You were still in disbelief, a real man sleeping in your barn. But then again, as your eyes skim lower and you notice the blood seeping through his shirt over his stomach — you wonder if he was sleeping. Surely he wasn’t dead? Only God could be so cruel to deliver you the perfect man without a pulse.

So, you press two cold fingers to his neck, searching for the rhythmic beats signifying life. As soon as you do so, the man jolts awake — wide brown eyes meeting yours.

“Jesus.”

This is where the stare off commences— you were sat in a squat giving him a straight shot up your night dress with dome like eyes and parted lips, observing him like he was some sort of alien life form that had happened upon your barn infront of your very eyes. Your chest rises and falls, and his gender fails to betray him as his eyes fall there for a moment, subconsciously noticing the way your bare tits strain against the thin fabric with each exhale. Somewhere in the back of his mind he can’t help but acknowledge that you’re a pretty thing, totally his type. In any other scenario, he might’ve seen you at a local tavern and introduced himself, getting you tipsy and loose, making you giggle beneath his soft gaze and coarse hands in some dimly lit booth before realising he’s far too respectful to take advantage of you like that.

With his eyes open, the picture is complete — and he truly is as beautiful as you thought. He had a puppy like quality to his eyes, they were big and brown but from the sunlight streaming in you could see specks of orange which intrigues you. You wish to look closer, but you feel it’s not the time. His adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow and he tears his eyes away from yours to look around, still disorientated from sleep. He touches his wound with gentle fingers and he winces, going to push himself up on his elbows.

You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it, warm deep voice raspy from rest as he dives into a sequence of begging.

“Does anyone know I’m in here?”

“No, I—”

“Okay, that’s— okay, please — hey, please don’t tell anyone. I won’t lie to you, I’m in a little bit of trouble with the law, nothing super bad I swear just — I needed somewhere safe to sleep so I ended up here. Didn’t take anything and uh— and I’ll be out of your hair now that I’m up.” He rambles, continually glancing at the barn doors, expecting Sheriff Shoupe to bust them down and take him in at any moments notice. You say nothing for a moment and he pushes himself to his feet, eyes squeezing shut at the soreness of his injury. “Think it’s easiest if I just—”

He cuts himself off this time, because you slip your hand into his— stopping him from going anywhere. His eyebrows jump up and he freezes on the spot, staring down at your doe eyes with a wide and confused gaze of his own.

“…Hi?”

“You just got here? Why’d you have to go?” You sound sad, and he actually can’t believe what he’s hearing. Not only did he break into your barn, on private land — but he’d totally overstayed his non-existent welcome, and now you didn’t want him to leave?

“P—pardon me? Ma’am?” He tries to be respectful, when what he really wants to ask is along the lines of ‘What the fuck?’.

You scramble to stand up and he helps you using the hand that you’re grasping. “Well, you won’t get far with a wound like that. It could get infected. Maybe you could come inside, let me dress it. You can refuel… maybe stay a few days?” The last part sounds wrong coming from your mouth. He’s a stranger for goodness sake— everything your parents had taught you about safety went against this and plus you were practically begging. You might have been embarrassed, if there wasn’t such a nagging feeling in your stomach telling you that this was meant to be.

He scoffs out a chuckle, because he thinks there’s no way you’re serious— but when he sees your wide eyes bouncing between his own, searching for something he couldn’t quite put a finger on— he realises you’re being completely genuine and his expression melts into a more worried gaze, shuffling a little closer on his feet.

“Look, I really appreciate your hospitality, but you have done more than enough, really. Just the fact you didn’t have the sheriff busting in to drag me away is something I will be very grateful for. Believe me. But I can’t drag you into this. Anyway, don’t you have family? That you live with?”

You sigh, looking down at your intertwined hands that you had yet to release, staring as if you were trying to memorise the feeling of a man’s touch incase you really couldn’t convince him to stay.

“Well yes, but they’re on a trip you see — and they’re going to be away for another week and I’m not sure how much more I can take. I’m awfully lonely, and I know you’re a stranger and all but I could really use the extra set of hands… plus it’s the least you could do… for breaking in…” You feel you’re pushing it with that last part, but decide to proceed with it anyway, any means necessary to get him to stay. He bites his bottom lip in thought as you stare up through your lashes and he thinks screw it. He’s sure you’re not setting him up, a little thing like you would be far too weak to pull that off.

“Okay, I… don’t see why not then.” He doesn’t sound certain, but you make such a good offer he’d be a fool not to accept. He bends down and swoops his hat off the floor, holding it to his chest and you take his hand once more, guiding him out of the barn.

He presses his lips together in an awkward smile at the way you confidently lead him, almost having to break into a jog to match your eager pace. Once nearing the house, you tell him your name and he nods — taking in the scenery.

You’re sitting him down in the living room before he can blink, and he takes in the setting around him. A real cozy place, a family home for sure — with a pale blue couch, a scratchy patchwork blanket draped over the back and floral cushions. There’s photos of you in multiple spots around the room, an only child — he gathers. The main photo sits on the mantelpiece, framed, a set of parents curtaining your smiling face in the image. You seem to be a few years younger, fuller in the face, still cute as a button.

He doesn’t quite realise you’d gone anywhere until you’re returning — the contents of an old first aid box rumbling in your grip. You give him a reassuring smile and lower to kneel by his feet, opening up the container and fishing around for some cotton pads.

“Do you have a name, mister?”

He clears his throat, trying to gage your reaction once he speaks, attempting to work out if the name rings any bells. “Uh, yeah. John B. John B. Routledge. You might’ve… actually heard of me. If you have, uh— I’m sorry.”

You don’t seem to react in any kind of alarming way, a smile grazing your face as you pour rubbing alcohol onto a soft white pad.

“Heard of you how? Are you famous?”

“…You’ve never seen those big ‘Wanted’ posters up in town? Kinda got my picture up on one of them.”

You peel up his shirt revealing tanned, toned skin and a wound that had crusted over with blood. You press the pad to it and he winces, knuckles turning white in his lap and head lulling back against the seat for a moment.

“Sorry.” You furrow your brows apologetically before continuing to mop up all the dried blood. “Oh, and I’m not allowed up in town. Not by myself anyway. So, I don’t keep up to date with all that… stuff.” You pull away, rifling through the box for another clean pad. He nods, eyes jumping to look at his wound and then back to you, watching your face for any discomfort regarding his presence. Oddly, there was none. If it wasn’t clear before, it’s wildly apparent now that you’ve truly been sheltered your whole life. There was this innocence you carried that was hard to come by, a lack of judgement that was sweet but made him worry for you slightly. You were lucky he had a good heart.

“That’s… probably for the best, actually. You know, they like to tell lies. I’m being falsely accused.” He speaks a little slower, and enunciates the last part as if you might not understand, and as expected— you hang onto every word, lips a little parted and wide eyed. It’s pretty cute, albeit inappropriate considering he’s a stranger.

As he speaks, you wrap his wound, pressing the sticky part down onto his skin before gently pressing the cotton covering his injury. “Well I’m really sorry about that John B. You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” You chirp, before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss over the dressing, pulling back to offer him a sweet smile. The lines on John B’s forehead smooth out, his concerned expression melting into his own gentle smile of disbelief.

He wonders what the odds are that he’d stumbled upon a real life angel. Well, it was that — or you wanted to chop his body into tiny pieces whilst he slept and add it to your cauldron. He couldn’t quite figure it out yet, but you were pretty — and he was a total loverboy, so stupidly he was willing to take that risk.

He pulls his shirt back down over his now dressed wound and you begin to clear your things back into the first aid box.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Like, anything you need help with around here?” He offers and you look up at him, brows furrowing with adoration.

“Goodness, no— I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“Said you needed an extra pair of hands earlier.” He challenges with a smile.

“I only said that to get you to come inside. With your injury, I couldn’t possibly put you to work.”

He scrunches his face a little with a half scoff, half smile and shrugs one shoulder. “Please, this thing? It barely even stings. Come oooon.” He croons with a smirk, and you really feel the full effects of his charm now— the warm timbre of his voice headed straight to your clit giving it a heartbeat of its own.

“Fine.” It comes out airy with a giddy smile and you take his hand yet again, almost getting distracted by the coarseness against your palm, the sight of bulging veins along the backs of them.

Your bare feet are treading lightly over soft wood chip once more as you lead him toward the destroyed fence round the left side perimeter of the farm.

“So… I suppose you could carry all the planks back from the fence that fell down in that awful storm last week. I was gonna wait for my daddy to get home to get him to do it ‘cus I’m much too weak for something like that.” You point, and John B’s brown fluffy head follows your finger to the destination at hand. He nods, a doable task.

“Well a girl like you shouldn’t be lifting a finger anyway.” He turns his head back to face you with a smile, eyes squinted in the sun. He looks radiant, no sign of pain anymore and you look down at your night gown, scrunching it in your clammy hands with an uncontrollable grin at the floor, harbouring such an innocent crush on the boy already that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

His gaze stays on you for a tick whilst you step quietly and he speaks up again, tilting his head a little inquisitively. “I really, really hope this doesn’t sound rude… ‘cus I don’t mean to be. But… are you not… married?” He trails off, thinking of all the times he’s been walloped round the head in taverns for asking questions of a similar nature. Your smile doesn’t go away, your gentle nature not retiring for a moment.

“Oh no, no. I don’t meet boys often. Thats why I’m happy you came!” You chirp, hand reaching out to softly squeeze his arm. “Can be like husband and wife whilst you stay round.”

He just laughs in response. Not necessarily in a mean way, but the same way you laugh when a child tells you they’re going to be an astronaut when they grow up.

The brutal beating of the sun does nothing to stop the honest work you’d put the self proclaimed outlaw up to, he seems to be deep in thought often — carrying the planks to and fro. You slip inside for a while to change into something more appropriate, a sweet and floral sundress that ties up at the straps and hugs you in a more womanly way. You’d rubbed your lips together as you fixed your hair in the mirror before bringing him a sandwich in the early afternoon. “You are adorable.” He grins when you do so, and it wasn’t quite the reaction you’d hoped for on your dress but it still made you warm in the face. He simply brought out a true primal bodily reaction from you— that’s why you’d skipped the panties under your dress. He was making you excited and slippery down there and you just didn’t see the point. You stay out for hours at a time to chat with him. Your affections grow.

John B. Routledge finally returns back to the house when he’s all finished and you let him lay down for a nap on your couch, finally getting some real rest in. Whilst he does so, you spend hours preparing a hearty meal — the type you reserve for when mama and papa have guests round. As the pie browns off just a moment longer in the oven, you come to the man’s side, kneeling beside him and stroking his fluffy hair back.

“I made dinner. Sure you’re really hungry.” You whisper and his eyes flutter once more, the arms that were crossed over his chest stretching out as he wakes. You sit back to give him space, and when he opens his eyes you’re there with a smile — the orange beam of sunset haloing your head. Something about an angel drafts through his mind once more and he stretches.

“Oh boy, I slept longer than I was meant to huh?” He sits up and you shrug, leading him through to the kitchen where you’d laid the round table. Steaming seasoned vegetables in a bowl, freshly picked by you. Warm bread, baked and scored by you with flowers the centrepiece of the table. A jug of gravy there too. There’s a tray of mashed potatoes waiting, creamy and delicious looking. Routledges stomach audibly growls and he chuckles at this as he sits down, taking in the scenery you’d laid out. “You… have spoiled me. All this for someone who breaks into your barn?” He chuckles as he lowers himself into the seat.

You follow him round the table with a giddy smile. “Told you I like havin’ guests.” You perch your bottom on his leg, an arm wrapped around his neck as your feet swing. It felt right. You’d always wanted to sit with a man this way, you’d seen it before in the picture shows. Man and wife, domestic bliss. His brows jump up and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Oh… sweetheart, you shouldn’t do that. I am a— a stranger, after all.” He tries to do the responsible thing, even though there was something about your innocent brashness that was turning him on beyond belief. Your eyebrows knit in the centre, a line between them and your bottom lip seems to have doubled in size from how it pushes out.

“But I like you?” You mewl, rejected. It all seems so simple to you, which is probably feels super unfair. No one had taught you how to address men because you were so sheltered, and now it was giving you all of these complicated feelings that John B would have to deal with.

“And I like you — a whole bunch. You know I’m super grateful for you taking me in and… all that good stuff. But sitting right here is gonna… make me excited. Because I’m a guy. Go ahead and hop off for me.” He taps your lower back gently and you huff, feeling upset and rejected about the whole thing. His eyes are all wide and hopeful as he stares at you, like he wanted to make sure you were okay. The way he handles you so sweetly made your stomach stir despite your current mope.

You drag your feet to the oven comically and he stifles a chuckle at how dramatic you were, despite his sympathy. You place your hands into oven gloves and take out the pie— perfect and golden. You walk it to the table and John B sits up a little straighter, eyes darting between you and the food.

“Did this all by yourself? You have got a real knack for cooking. Should put you on the TV.” He grins, switching on the charm to attempt to loosen up your silent sulk. You nod, eyes casted down childishly and he reaches out to touch your arm. “Thank you, pretty girl.”

A small smile slips out, and he flickers his eyes over to the heart shape you’d scored onto the pie, his own lips twitching up into a smirk. “That for me?”

“Maybe.”

“Hmm.”

You end up giggling, his smile too infectious and your bad moment is all forgotten as you serve him a slice, plating up for him and then yourself before you eat. John B digs in ravenously, it’s almost erotic — the way he’s groaning at how good it all tastes, gravy dripping from his lips as he licks more off his fingers. He was clearly less proper-mannered than you, but you liked that. Table manners were for boring old people anyway. Maybe everything about him got you going, but you had to really concentrate on getting some food inside you instead of just watching the show of eating he was putting on.

Once you’re finished, and he’s finishing up on his third helping — you let your giggles die down from the wild goose chase story he relayed for you, one where he of course wound up the hero which only made your heart beat harder for him. Your socked foot begins to prod at his ankle, sliding up his leg until it rests in his lap. He doesn’t seem to mind, the food having lowered his guard just that bit as he leans back in his chair, undoing his belt. He adjusts his hips on the seat as he does so and your thighs clench.

“So what did you think?” You ask, though you think it’s clear that he liked the meal from the empty plates and unbuckled belt. He lets out a long satisfied sigh, gazing at you for a moment with a kind smile.

“I think, whoever gets to marry you is a lucky son of a bitch.” He presses his lips together, almost like he was disappointed about the idea of you with another. You blink, the hands resting beneath your chin dreamily slowly falling to play with eachother on the table.

“Why not you, John B?” You question sadly, giving him those eyes again. The ones that tug on his heart and made him wanna give you everything and anything you ask for. He lifts a napkin, bringing it to his mouth as he shakes his head dismissively, closing his eyes with a frown.

“Mm—mm.” The tissue fabric muffles the sound. “You don’t wanna marry me, believe me — okay, I’m an outlaw. Your parents would never in a billion years accept me. Anyway you… you deserve someone less rough and tumble, you know? Like a prince from a storybook. A bubblewrap life. Not… whatever this is.” He gestures to himself, more so the browned blood stain on his shirt.

You sigh, determined. “My parents would understand. They’re — they’re generous people.”

“Really? ‘Cus they don’t even let you leave the house.” He quips quickly in response, smirking at your naivety and you fall silent for a moment. His face flattens just a tad from guilt. You were far too soft for that kind of tone.

When you look up at him again, your face is more solemn — wide eyes searching his for a shred of understanding. “You don’t understand, John B. There are actual scary, dangerous men out there that would take me and do terrible things to me.”

The outlaw leans his elbows on the table, his lips stretched into an amused smile at the irony. There wasn’t an inkling of threat about the gesture, pure amusement coursing through the energy between you from his side alone. “And how do you know I’m not one of those scary, dangerous men. Hm?” His voice is warm, it seems to rumble straight from his chest. You release a shaky sigh.

“Well you haven’t hurt me yet?” Your voice lilts out, and you engage in a long stare off. There’s a different kind of tension in the air now, it’s hot and feels heavy on you. It oozes into the nooks and crannies of your balmy skin and slithers between your thighs. You can’t take the heat and you stand, beginning to bring his dishes to the sink to wash. It’s quiet for a while, John B watching you with this thoughtful and almost knowing smile as you tidy up around him. Even he couldn’t run from how good ‘domestic bliss’ felt.

You let yourself indulge in the fantasy too. Wife cleans up, husband sits behind at the table and sips at the drink she poured him. You wanted nothing more than to experience this everyday, and your heart sinks sadly at the fact that this will probably be the last. You lose yourself to thoughts and daydreams as you scrub away, to the point you nearly don’t hear him stand up, slowly walking to lean against the sink beside you.

You smile at him politely as he eyes you, and return your gaze to the plate in your hand. You mustn’t dwell. He moves, and soon he’s behind you, a hand resting against the sink beside your hip, head craning round to look at you from the other side. “You’re really serious about this husband and wife thing, aren’t you?”

“Very serious, sir.” You bat your lashes at him earnestly and his cock stirs in his pants at the title, unexpected but not unwelcomed. Bless your heart, you were only being courteous. He presses his lips together in thought and the side of your face warms with his slow exhale. Turning your body, you face him fully now. “I just think it was divine intervention that you wound up in my barn. You’re like an angel sent to take away my loneliness.” You’re shy, a little bashful about your beliefs and without thinking he cups your cheek in reassurance, thumb swiping slowly over the skin.

His eyes take in your every detail, and your lips part with a wobbly breath, nervous. “May I kiss you, John B?” You address, just as his thumb strokes the delicate skin below your eye. He grins, slightly amused by your formality and simply nods his head.

You stand on tip toes to reach him, socked feet almost knocking at his boots as your body presses to his, lips meeting. You’re a little messy, inexperienced— which comes as no surprise to the boy as he tilts his head, welcoming your mouth at another angle and taking control in order to guide you. You’re mostly a quick learner, slowing your pace to something much more sultry and he nearly can’t contain his excitement. He wants to be a gentleman, but as soon as he introduces his tongue — you lose composure, needy and all but panting into his mouth right then and there in the kitchen. He pulls away and breaks the string of saliva that connects your lips with his thumb, stroking it over your moist bottom lip as you stare at him readily.

He tilts his head, eyes wide and almost innocent as he gestures away. “You… want me to show you what husbands do with their wives?”

You nod so hard your eyes nearly roll back like one of those baby-dolls.

John B is the one to take your hand this time, leading you slowly and carefully through the house. You partially think he’s giving himself time to rethink what he’s about to do, but from the way your pussy is drooling into your panties — it feels set in stone. He finally reaches your bedroom and you watch his head move left and right as he takes it in, cheek lifting with a smile at the China dolls on the wall and the frilly white bedsheets. It’s clear your room hasn’t changed since you were a little girl. The sun is just starting to disappear behind your lace curtains and he switches on the lamp, sitting you down.

The man joins you, easing himself down at your side and cupping your cheek as he begins to kiss you again. He takes it slow, but the passion and need only grows as the splayed hand on your back begins to slide upwards until its cupping the back of your head and he’s beginning to slowly lower you to lie down like you’re made of glass.

Naturally you shuffle up the bed and he follows, hovering over you and leading with his tongue this time — the wet muscles wrapping around eachother languidly making you moan, legs falling wider apart.

“I wanna make you feel really good, okay? That okay with you?” He asks gently and you nod, sucking in a breath. You’d waited for something like this since you knew what pleasure was, craved the touch of a man with strong coarse hands and a wet mouth. Routledges thumbs swipe across your tits through your dress, massaging them until your nipples were poking painfully through the fabric as he burrows into your neck, licking and sucking.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as he tugs gently at your dress, eyes meeting yours once more.

“Let’s get this off, yeah?”

He tugs the garment up and over, puffing out his cheeks as he blows air out his mouth, brows raised at the sight of your naked body. You look so soft, so pliable beneath him. He was already hard just from kissing you, but this made him feel like he might combust. “Took your underwear off?” He smirks, pressing kisses to your stomach and between your tits before bringing his face up to eye level with you, same kind but teasing smile on his face. “Have you been needing me aaall day? Hm?”

You turn your head to the side, flustered and clammy with a whine— eyes screwed shut. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Oh, now you’re shy?”

“No, s’just — when you speak like that— n’say stuff like that… makes me hurt…” You’re breathless, hips twitching and bucking slightly as he grins, pearly whites showing.

“Aw.” Is all he manages before continuing his descent down.

He’s a real tease, spending an ungodly amount of time on your tits— sucking, licking and biting your nipples until you’re arched off the bed, teary eyed and wincing from sensitivity. It’s then, and only then he starts to kiss lower, pushing himself down your pristine sheets until he’s settling between your legs, gently easing your ankles upwards so that your knees faced the sky, your cunt fluttering and open right infront of his face.

“Well she’s very pretty.” He smiles up at you, thumbs coming up to spread you. He leans in slowly, hot breath fanning over your heat before he simply presses the softest kiss to your clit. He draws back again as you whimper, running the pads of his thumbs up along your spread folds. “Hear that? So wet, pretty girl.” He marvels in a whisper.

“Just want you to make it better.” You mewl and he nods slowly in understanding, tongue swiping over his lips as he observes you.

“That I can definitely do.” He confirms before leaning in, licking and sucking at your clit as his thumb automatically rolls downwards to massage your hole. You gasp, knees shooting up towards your chest as he eats you, similarly to the pure fervour and passion he only recently devoured the meal you cooked for him. You wondered how any appetite remained.

When he sinks his middle finger inside you, your stomach tenses — a high pitched noise of relief and utter devastation leaving you. You had no idea how badly you’d craved fullness to this very moment, and you weren’t even halfway there. He’s smiling against you, glancing up as you flutter around his single digit and make plenty of noise for him. “Yeah? Think you’ve really been needing some of that, little girl.” He nearly laughs at your extreme reaction. He had to admit, it was fun doing this with someone so inexperienced. Everything to you seemed like the best thing ever.

He eats and eats away, proving himself to have quite the monstrous appetite for your slick . Your feet rest on his shoulders at one point, lost in pleasure as you whine and writhe and to keep you out of the way, the outlaw pushes your legs up and pins them there, nose deep in your gloss.

“Feels too good— feels— hurts!” You cry, because you don’t know how to put that you’re simply aching to cum.

“Doesn’t hurt, sweet girl. Just let it happen.” He corrects in that low reverberation that you’ve grown to love. After a series of ‘Uh’ and ‘Mm’s, you feel yourself hitting that peak — the one you usually reach all over the soft cotton of your pillow, but ten times the strength.

As soon as he senses this happening, he doubles down and continues repeating the same action with his mouth over and over until you’re squealing and pushing him away, curling into a ball as your completion dribbles out of your quivering hole.

He grins, real proud of himself as he pushes up on his hands to near you, gently shushing you the same way you would to soothe a baby to sleep. “I know, that was a lot huh?” He coo’s, rubbing your back with his warm hand as you suffer the aftershocks, clenching and whimpering, a smaller clammy hand reaching out to his shirt to grab a fist of it.

He forces you softly onto your back, stroking a hand over your warm forehead. For someone so convinced the two of you shouldn’t be together, he sure did look at you like you were his entire world. By the gaze shared, you would never know the two of you only met that morning.

“What now, hm?” He smiles, quiet. You open your mouth to speak, and your voice rasps from the loud and explosive release that had you calling out.

“Wanna… make you feel as good as you made me feel, John B.”

He licks his lips, thinking over it. If it wasn’t already clear, his dick was throbbing in his pants just from pleasing you— and had you wanted to end things there he would be sure to take a trip to the bathroom to finish in his hand. Maybe swipe a pair of your underwear from the basin for inspiration, but that made his stomach tense with guilt.

“Think I can manage that, yeah.” He nods before reaching slowly for his belt. “Sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Good, good.”

His belt is still undone from after dinner so he slides the snakey leather from its loops with one hand, the act more attractive than you anticipated which made you clench once more with need. He sits on the edge of the bed and you usher up beside him, pressing your naked body to him and ghosting your drooly lips over his jaw line as he sighs, working his length out of his pants.

“Oh my.” You breathe, as soon as you look down. Now you hadn’t had much experience in dealing with the male anatomy, clearly — but you knew for certain John B had to be miles larger than the average man. His cock stood tall, straight — slightly mauve towards the tip with a beautiful blue vein drifting down his shaft like a river on a mountain. His balls sat beneath, heavy and pink — inviting in a way that made your mouth water primally.

“Yeah? This is… what m’working with.” He chuckles, sounding a little nervous.

“How do I…” You mutter after a moment and he’s quick to take your hand, pressing your fingers so that it forms a cup and bringing it to your mouth.

“You wanna spit for me, pretty? Right here.” He encourages and whilst you don’t understand, you do as he wishes, letting a bubbly glob of saliva drool out into the cupped crevice of your hand. You look up at him with wide unsure eyes, searching for praise or reassurance that you’d done as he asked. He presses his lips together at the sweet and submissive expression, shifting his hips a tad in excitement. “Mm, fuck.” He punctuates with an airy chuckle, ticking his head in a single shake.

He brings your hand down and begins to smear it all over himself, releasing a shaky exhale as he does so. “So, uh… you’re gonna wanna move your hand. Just like this.” He sighs as he works your hand up and down his shaft, slowly jerking him off. Your eyes flicker between his face and pretty dick to make sure you were doing it right. As you do so, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips, muttering a “So sweet, bubba.” Against your mouth.

This only encourages you to gain confidence, doing whatever feels right. You twist your hand— squeezing just a tad harder towards the tip as that seemed to be what made him release that heavenly groan, jaw constantly agape as he watches your hand.

“Theeere you go sweetheart. Easy right? Like milking a cow.” He kisses your temple briskly once more before his eyes screw shut, chest heaving with quicker breaths. You get carried away, fascinated by the pearly precum that seeps from his slit as you work him with your hand and following your own judgment you lean down. You figure if he used his mouth on you, you could return the favour.

His eyes open with a loud shudder when you tentatively wrap your plush lips around his tip, working your hand up and down to try and squeeze more of the interesting salty flavour from him. You let out a long drawn out moan of your own as you feel your clit throbbing with desire, liberating his precum from your mouth to let it dribble back down his shaft in messy bubbles.

He winces, placing a hand on your shoulder and removing you with such an abrupt speed that you nearly flew off the side of the bed. You sit up straight, slick mouth pouting as your eyes flicker between his, worrying that you’d done something wrong. There’s a second of just looking at eachother, before you stumble over some words.

“S—Sorry. Did I hurt—”

“No, no God no. I uh— I just wasn’t sure if I should make a mess all over that pretty face just yet.” His wide eyed expression melts into a reassuring smile, thumb rising to swipe lovingly at your cheek. You lick your lips, savouring the taste of him and nod — not quite sure where to go from there.

Your silence makes him question, and he eyes you. “Is there… anything in particular you want now?”

You think, blinking your doll-like eyelashes off into the distance before nodding once more— pushing off away from him and scurrying to the head of the bed where you lay yourself gently on the pillows.

“Hm?” He follows up in confusion, craning his neck round to watch you.

“Would… like a baby now, please.” You spread your legs a little, shy and bashful in your request like you wasn’t sure if you’d asked impolitely. His face falls as he stares at you for a moment before closing his eyes, rubbing over his face with an exasperated chuckle, elbows on his knees.

As you stare at him with with an upset little pout, already ashamed by your forwardness. “Like husband and wife?” You try to justify and he sighs out his nose, turning his body fully to you.

“Oh sweet girl.” He tugs you gently lower toward him by your hips, rubbing his thumbs at your waist. “We just met.”

You launch into full fledged begging, whiny and high pitched with tears threatening to dive over their trough. “I’ll make you so happy John B, I’ll make all your problems go away and you won’t have to run anymore. Please?” You were deadset on this man giving you your dream life, and you’d officially pushed shame to the side in order to get this. His brow is permanently creased, staring with those big wide puppy dog eyes, continually stroking your skin in hopes to calm you.

“Are you… sure that’s what you want? You’re still young. So much time for all that.”

“Just want it now. I’d never be lonely again.” You sound defeated, staring down away from him now. He felt bad, he’d always hated disappointing people. Once upon a time he was a fixer, always running to his friends aid to make their problems go away. That urge never died, just burned low and quiet like an old candle flame. He wanted to make your problems go away too.

“Okay.” He presses his lips together. “I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.”

He watches your devastated expression lift into a radiant grin, and it was like watching the sun appear from behind a grey cloud after weeks of downcast weather. “Yeah?” You chirp toothily as he crawls over you, leaking tip grazing your tummy and then your folds as he buries his face into your neck.

“Uh-huh.”

When he pushes his tip inside, John B says a prayer for the first time in his life.

He’d never really followed any religion. His father had been the type to say it was all a bunch of ‘Mumbo jumbo’ and that he should believe in the human psyche instead, or something like that. But as your wet folds swallow him and you release that high pitched mewl at the inevitable stretch — he finds himself asking God — please, please don’t let me knock this young girl up.

There’s a warm blanket of chills that cover his spine as he slowly sheathes inside of you, feeling like he was pushing deeper and deeper into a black hole that would selfishly keep sucking him inside for the rest of his life. It felt too good, calming — like falling asleep. He was euphoric.

“So — so big inside me!” Your cry knocks him out of his thoughts and he kisses your shoulder before looking down to watch himself push in all the way to the hilt.

“Feel okay, gorgeous?”

You nod, a pained whine falling from you as you dig your nails into his skin, walls fluttering around him like they were constantly trying to accommodate for this thickness. “Fuck.” He groans, before sliding back a little and starting to thrust. Yeah, he wasn’t gonna last too long— he needed to get to work on you fast.

As he gently fucks into you, your plush tits recoil with the movement and he can’t close his mouth, sounds and sighs leaving him without permission. A hand slides between the two of you, the other pulling his shirt up to grip between his teeth— giving himself a better view of the way he strokes at your clit — your legs being spread exposing it, making it easier for him.

You clench, and shudder — that sweet face contorting with each time his tip ever so slightly grazes your cervix, careful not to bruise it. You really were beautiful, that type of homely beauty he’d thought of marrying in his lonely nights of travelling through desert and grass. The type of girl you work for, the type that deserves spoiling, princess treatment. The more he fucks, the more he’s convincing himself that impregnating you might not be the most awful thing after all. Why should he chase away security?

Your fingertips grace his chest, and he takes your hand — pinning it to the bed as your fingers intertwine, using the grip to aid his rolling thrusts— speeding up the pace and force now he knew you could take it like a champ. His mouth opens to speak, and his shirt drops out of it.

“Taking me real good baby. You like getting fucked, don’t you?” He coo’s and you can only nod, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes before rolling down to your temples. Poor thing, lost for words.

There’s a wet slapping sound with each thrust, your cunt equally gushing as it was thirsty — hungrily welcoming each inch of his, and even demanding more by locking your ankles around his lower back. Perhaps you did it for comfort, or perhaps because you suspected a hesitance, the threat of him pulling out last minute too much for your baby-crazed brain.

“Jesus. Sweet little puppy.” He breathes like it’s a revelation beneath your ear, the curly tuft of hair above his shaft tickling you as he continues to rub your clit.

“S’gonna happen again, John B. The big feeling.” You strain, eyes clamped shut and sniffling— too overwhelmed by your impending orgasm. He kisses each eye lid and watches you closely, experiencing you unfold once more.

“Thats my good girl. Let me have it, pup. Gimme a good one.”

You’re an explosion of whimpers and moans, thrashing under his firm grip once more— and he’s not sure when your orgasm ends, if it even ends at all— he doesn’t care, the release pushing him close to his own. He speeds up his pace, hand that was at your clit now wrapping around your lower back, forearm pushing your lower half up and against him, forcing you to just keep taking him.

He was like a beast from a fairytale book, fucking wildly into you with a primal determination that had you struggling to breathe. You’re crying now, full out crying because it’s just so much. There’s still one last thing you require, and only he can give you it.

“You wanna make me daddy, huh?” He demands, that gentleness in his voice gone. It’s nearly unrecognisable from him, and you preen beneath the rough touch.

“Mhm!”

“Words.” He barks. He didn’t mean to be mean, he just got a little bossy when he was close. You’d come to learn that.

“Please give me a baby. Please just — make you a daddy! Need it!” You’re squealing, voice shaking from the hard ‘plap plap plap’ of his balls slapping against you. You feel you might pass out if this goes on much longer.

He releases with a long groan, lips dropping to the centre of your chest and back arching upwards. You register his sounds before you feel it, hot slimy ropes of him— shooting up inside you, warming your walls. You moan too, because it feels so good to be full. It feels right, like this was what had been missing after all.

Everything is a blur for the next few minutes. It’s like you black out a little, because maybe you forgot to be breathing like you should have been. You briefly recall John B scooping you up and helping you through that, ignoring the gooey seed dripping from you to cradle you like a baby, humming a calm “Breathe, sweetheart. In and out. With me, c’mon.” Your gentle boy was back, and through your haze you smile.

Once you’re tucked at his side beneath a soft cotton blanket, his hand stroking over your head after cleaning you up, a whispered conversation ensues.

“Do you really like me John B? Like, you really think I’m beautiful?” You inquire, gazing up at him with stuck together black eyelashes. The question was so innocent, yet he could tell it was so meaningful.

His expression doesnt falter, a gentle smile sat comfortably on his lips as he continues to pet you. “Baby, I think you’re the ponds swan. Just… gotta get to know you a little better, okay? ‘Specially if I really did put a baby in you.” Only then his smile falters, brows knitting as the reality sets in. Oh Lord.

“Okay.” Your eyes flutter closed, happy to leave it at that, happy to fall asleep right by his side under his watchful eye. It was unnerving how safe a lonely girl could feel with a stranger.

“Okay. Good girl. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.” He quietly reassures, watching you drift off. He’s not sure if he’s trying to dispel your fears, or his own.

#outlaw!johnb #john b fic 🎀

[toraashi]

floral swing. (xiao, kazuha)

notes from tori: hello all, i haven’t written in so long nor have i been active for a reason. i have no excuse for the first, but the second!! i saw taylor swift last weekend and then when i got back from my trip i got covid :( so yeah, very busy fortunately and unfortunately, but i’m back now! this isn’t very good, but i hope you enjoy anyway!

warnings/info: gn!reader, fluff, kissing, short, that’s all, i am obsessed with the floral swing furnishing in the teapot

kazuha.

“Can’t we stay in here forever, Kazuha?” You breathed, melting into the pillow-soft cushions of a floral swing, your head pressed into the man’s legs. The swing pushed and pulled beneath you like the lull of ocean waves brushing up against the shore. Kazuha’s fingers did the same, weaving through the crisp wind that tickled your skin and stroking over your cheeks, your fluttering eyelashes. He hummed, and the sound harmonized with the chirp of nearby birds. 

“It certainly eases the mind,” The words blended pleasantly in your mind as another cool breeze washed across your face. In the traveler’s teapot,  life was devoid of tribulation. All that existed was the sun, unerringly warm against your skin, Kazuha’s fingers dripping through your hair until you were just on the precipice of blissful sleep, and—

The press of something firm against your lips, ambrosial granules flicking onto your tongue. A fruit. 

“Zaytun peaches, have you had them?” Kazuha always knew what was on your mind. His voice had to be a lullaby, and you welcomed the offering, the peach's skin velvety against your tongue, it’s flavor sweetened by flecks of sugar. “With a sprinkle of sugar, just how you like.” The follow up statement was laced with self-satisfaction, and you smiled against his fingers, chewing thoughtfully and letting your drowsy eyes flick open to gaze at his features leering over yours. The sun cast a halo around his hair, and your hand rebelliously reached for the scarlet strand nearly brushing against your nose. 

“Do you want a taste?” You murmured, watching a range of emotions flick through his ruby eyes. First: him attempting to read your intentions, your feelings. Second: confusion. Third: realization, and finally, a soft desire that burnt against his cheeks. Within a few seconds, you were wrinkling your nose at the ticklish sensation of his hair finally brushing the tip, swallowing thickly before feeling his words on your lips.

“I suppose a taste wouldn’t hurt,”

xiao.

You could only think one thing as you gazed upon the adeptus in your lap, his lashes fluttering, his cheeks flushed a soft, docile pink.

“You’re so lovely, Xiao.” You charmed, words softer than wind chimes. Xiao was favorable to compliments if you whispered them lowly and fervently. He was much like a bird that way, needing to be carried gently into affection, perhaps out of fear that something disastrous would happen if he indulged too much.

And gentle you were; it was hard to coax him into relaxation regardless, and you strived to keep his peace as long as possible.

Xiao hummed, a sign he’d heard while you leaned and pressed yet another featherlight kiss to his nose, moving leisurely to his cheekbone to plant another. His trust in you was intoxicating. Just a few months ago, and the action would’ve made him recoil. Now, however, he barely flinched when you dragged your lips to the bow of his, kissing his upper lip like a breeze. As if to soothe the action, you traced your thumb down his round cheek as you withdrew, scouring his face for any unfavorable reaction. Instead, you earned a pleased sigh, one which you echoed.

The silence enveloped your pair like a warm blanket, the cool grass between your toes, the weight of his head on your lap, the tickle of his hair against your thighs. Your seat — a cushioned floral swing — rocked back and forth, draping vines framing the scene before you, embroidered with white petals. Pressing your lips together, you smiled quaintly, eyes drooping closed at a blissful breeze wafting over your sunkissed cheeks, pretending like the sliver of time was eternal, like Xiao would never leave your side, like he’d be between your fingers until the stars fell from the sky—

The worn fabric of Xiao’s glove against your cheek pulled you from your reverie, and your eyes fluttered open as his thumb smoothed a growing wrinkle between your eyebrows.

“Are you troubled?” The somewhat archaic lilt to his speech, the concerned glow to his golden gaze: it immediately softened your disposition, and you offered a smile, plucking his fingers from your face and bringing them to your lips, adorning each one with its own kiss.

“At your side? Never?”

#xiao x reader #kazuha x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #xiao fluff #kazuha fluff #xiao drabble #kazuha drabble #i might make a part 2 #if this idea stays in my head too long

[harfanfare]

Unique Kisses: Scarabia!

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Kalim A. A. (shut-up kisses)

You lost the thread ten minutes ago.

You are on the decorative veranda of the Scarabia. You occupy large pillows with hand-embroidered floral embroidery. In front of you is a tray with refreshing, sour drinks and plates of sliced fruit prepared by Jamil. Kalim scarcely touched them, for his story takes all his attention.

There is a chessboard with pawns on it. You were supposed to play another game with Kalim, but he had made his last move a good ten minutes ago. You want to finish this round. You are winning, but to beat your boyfriend again in this game you need his attention. And return his focus to very, very good placement of your pawns.

It is hard to stop him from talking. Kalim is too excited about today's event for you to easily shift the conversation to your board game.

You love listening to him chatter. He has an emphatic and effusive voice and describes everyday life with a happy, optimistic perspective.

Aside from his stubbornly focused attention on the conversation, the problem is that Kalim keeps changing the subject. His sentences are clusters of basic slogans, quotes, and exclamations, and that's...

Well, you'd like to learn how to read minds just to be more involved in his story.

When you try to get his attention, he apologizes and paraphrases the last part of his speech in no better form. After two sentences, he forgets about your note. The beam on his face makes you only nod at him as he gloats about the next part of his story.

“Kalim…”

“I didn't know what he was going to say then. But then he surprised me. Because, you know, they say that Octavinelle students are very hard to deal with, but that one seemed nice! I met him... when? Oh, I remember! Because the day before, Jamil and I went to get a cake on their new menu! It was wonderful! We can go there tonight so you can try it too. It tasted very much like the shortcake Jamil had prepared... like, two weeks ago, maybe?”

“Kalim.”

“Oh, I'm sorry! Back to the topic. After that meeting, I mean, the next day, when I asked Mr Crewell for help on this project, we went to the library to learn about this effect... what was the name...? De... De... Dea...? I don't remember! Ah! And on the way to the library, we met Rook, who-”

“Kalim.”

“Yes? Just listen to what he told me! He-”

You bite your cheek to keep yourself from sighing. If you want to finish your game, you must get his attention the other way.

You reached him, needing to come closer on two pillows. You touch his shoulder, and he pauses for one second. It takes two more before you press your lips to his. You can almost feel the words die on his tongue as he gasps softly.

He wants to say something. He opens his mouth, but you are the one in control. You silence him again by moving closer to him to occupy him with a kiss.

It only lasts three seconds.

Kalim lost the thread.

You drift away from him. And just before you is a rare sight of a wordless Kalim. A cheery smile slowly spreads across his face.

You tap the chessboard, and for the first time in an hour, you're sure that Kalim's attention is solely on you.

“Let's finish this round first, okay?”

Jamil V. (movie-like kisses)

“It's a truly beautiful sunset…”

The sky is already orange, with shades of red - and finally warm navy blue – that are beginning to appear in the further stripes of clouds. The colourful ombre of the sky pleased not only artists but also passers-by…

“There's no one here but us…”

…Two passers-by. Jamil tried to create such an atmosphere by putting Kalim in the hands of his family. As expected, he immediately suggested that Jamil should take a vacation, because the next party was being held in his large house and created for Al-Asim's closest family.

When Jamil knew he will be free for at least one night, he decided to go somewhere with you. One of the choices was the beach you are currently on, which you have strolled around for almost all day.

Time flies when talking to a loved one.

“The sea is heaving in the wind...” you add, squeezing his hand a little more. You feel Jamil's grip on your fingers tighten in response. You take a deep breath, taking in a lot of sea air in your lungs. "It seems too good to be true. Should we suspect that Floyd is about to jump out of the water or...?”

Jamil shakes his head. His other hand touches your cheek, and the tips of his fingers draw subtle, invisible marks on your skin. "Don't think about it. Focus on me. On us.”

He doesn't need to use hypnosis, and his wish gets granted anyway.

It was hard to think about that when his gaze and the way he covers your mouth are filled with attention and greed.

The purpose of this whole spectacle of emotions, which rage even more as his hand slowly trails down your back, is to make you want to take another step. And to make sure that he is in control and that he doesn't even need to use his magic on you. If you were hypnotized, you wouldn't know what command he uttered, but now you are fully aware of his every move. You don't even have the willpower to prevent it.

So you give in to it, even though you tell yourself that next time you will be the one in control of that kiss. You don't like the wicked smile on Jamil's face as you gas for air.

The Prince Charming's spell breaks as the corners of his mouth twist mischievously, though, in a few minutes, Jamil will still be playing nice guy when you will walk across the beach again... No, he won't be playing—he will put into the moment everything that he can give himself.

“Ach, weren't going to take pictures of the horizon?” Jamil asks and you wonder how he could change his tone of voice to this... normal tone, in seconds. You narrow your eyes at him. "Why are you looking at me like that? Should I help you take it? Your hands seem a little shaky... Ah, or would you rather admit that I've thrown you off balance, hm?”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #scarabia x reader #kalim al asim #kalim x reader #jamil viper #jamil x reader

[addisonstars]

"my favorite everything"

written for day 25 of september for @jegulus-microfic with the prompt "pillow"

496 words!

“Reg, if you put one more pillow or candle into the shopping cart, I am going to divorce you.” James says as Regulus tosses in what has to be the 5th pillow into the cart. 

“But it’s fall, how could I not,” Regulus whines. “Our place needs to smell of cinnamon, pumpkins, and be decorated with blankets to accentuate the mood. It’s finally fall, my favorite, James.” Regulus pauses, and adds, “and no you wouldn't dare.” 

“I will if we end up having to take something back because we didn't have enough room in our house. You remember that we have a 2 bedroom flat, not a mansion.” James notes. “I don’t think we’re gonna have enough room to fit these pillows that we are getting,” he glances down at their buggy, “and the ones we already have.” 

Regulus smiles, pulling the cart and James along to the next aisle. “Never say never my dear Jamie.” He picks up a jar filled with autumnal colored floral, nods and sets it in the cart. Jame picks it back up and sets it back on the shelf. Reg, without even turning around, sets back in the cart. James gives up and rolls his eyes. 

James however, smiles because seeing Regulus happy makes him happy. So it’s really a win-win situation. He decides not to factor his bank account into this equation. 

He looks in the cart, his eyes darting over the items making a mental list of what they have and what they still need. “I think the only thing we need now is some candy corn.”

James wrinkles his nose in disgust. “That piece of corn-syrup you call candy corn is not coming into my house.” 

“But-”

“No.”

“I want some though.” 

“So?” James states simply. “I want to have room to sit on the couch and not have to move the pillows every time I sit, but here I am.” 

Regulus pauses for a long moment. He picks up the orange pillow with a white embroidered pumpkin on it and sits it on the shelf. He takes out five out of the ten little pumpkins, along with the cheesy fall colored sign. He puts them all back where they belong and returns with three bags of candy corn. 

“Compromise.” Regulus raises his eyebrows. Holds out his hand for James to agree. 

James lifts his hand, “three bags? Not even two?” 

Regulus lifts his hand to the pillow he set back on the shelf right there. James swats it away and shakes Regulus’ hand. “Remind me never to go seasonal shopping with you. This was a nightmare.” 

“But I’m your favorite nightmare.” Regulus pouts, leading James out of the fall aisles, heading to checkout. 

“You could say that. You’re my favorite in general.” James picks up Reggies free hands and encloses it on his own. 

“You’re my favorite everything Jamie.” Regulus looks up to James with a sparkle in his eyes, a gentle smile on his face.

FALL IS FIANLLY HERE. I REPEAT, FALL IS HERE!! hc that regulus loves the sugary goodness of candy corn and loves to decorate the house based on the seasons because regs parents never did.

-a.s.

#regulus black #james potter #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #jeggy #james x regulus #regulus x james #married jegulus #domestic fluff #jegulus fluff #jegulus microfic #jegulus fic #pillow #addisonstars

[mahiiimahiiii]

A/n: Hi folks! This is from my late night writing folder- I wanted an excuse to write nobility durgetash. May I present:

Our Lady Of Debauchery...(and other things)

(Durgetash)| DUrge x Lord Enver Gortash | named durge

Our music choice:

+*+

Tyrants palace, known to the locals as a den of debauchery was filled. Carriages of all colors and sizes flocked to the grand staircase, each holding its precious cargo- nobles.

The tyrants right hand wasn't used to this.

Wynne, child of bhaal sat on a dressing room chair attended too excitable human staff attempting to style her recently washed and un-pressed hair.

As a drow, her hair had two settings- unruly and wildly beautiful curls, or silky and pin straight hair (often times recently pressed with a steel comb). She held back tears as they continued to pull her hair into an updo, lining it with pins and sweeping her bangs into waves. She looked like the ads of women she so envied as a child, whatever that was to a drow. They set curls next to her eyes spinning her around to apply makeup... It would've been simpler to using a transforming scroll at this point

Her study as she liked to call it was colored a deep green, the walls embelised with a golden flower pattern, and dark wood paneling. Instead of a bed it held a shelved nook coated in lavender sheets and pillows. A hearth and a lavish blue rug lay to the other side of the bed with a dark wood desk with matching chair, a large plus armchair sat next to the hearth and sat at her vanity, decorated with bottles of cremes and combs.

The girls whispered about the guests, a young elven magistrate with long silver hair was found out to be a bachelor, he gave lord gortash a run for his money. Orin would be making appearance was well as another famous lord from across ferun, sent an invite for the temptations he would bring. She only had one plan and one target, the next in lead for the flaming fist. The dread fours mole has been chosen, a lord named Ravenguard.

This would be the first step in their plan, it should and it must go well.

The dress fit over her shoulders and was pulled down, corset pulled taught by two other women. This was abnormal, she felt uncomfortable in all the layers. .

She had forgone the heels deciding that a nice pair of embroidered flats should suffice.

She must admit this dress was lovely, and she would be it's first tester. The sage green complemented her soft brown skin and silky silver hair, pink florals decorated the base and hems, a delicate embroidery.

Gortash had chosen this dress for her, as often the lording would prefer for the future lady gortash to be at least fashionably adept.

She would just prefer to wear a button down and loose slacks

She sighed clipping in her singular pearl earring, a heavy teardrop shape, another gift from her lover. She made the final adjustments, dusting rouge onto her nose and oiled charcoal onto her lids, her eyes darkened by the deep colors. The assassin sighed with contempt taking a final look in the mirror. She looked decent enough to perhaps pass as a noble.

Wynne cleaned her hands off, the trail of the dress lagging behind. "Is master gortash ready? Our appearance is within ten to twenty minutes."

"He's been ready ma'am, waiting for you in the parlor for a bit now"

She chuffed, lifting up the train of her gown greatly disturbed by the lack of movement. How she hated this, Enver Gortash will never hear the end of this. He was no lord to her, simply an officer of the law seeking out the greater ideal of grand design, something she sought out for purpose. It was lucky- when she suggested to her long time lover about it. It was even luckier when the szarr family had allowed her to use the Library without incident. Or it could be the blessings her father continually blessed her with as the more successful child.

And now, one little dance, one small appearance, one night of suffering- and then it will be back to pants.

"Enver? Darling? Are you ready?"

She called out.

A confirming hum sounded from down the hall, his eyes lit up when he saw her. their warm and rich depths drinking her in . His hair was slicked back, this was not a good look for him.

"You look gorgeous! My beautiful huntress..." He cupped her chin kissing the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. "You look delicious...ugh, what a shame we have an event to attend." His eyes glittered.

"I hate this." She frowned "I hate your hair that way. I hate heels, I hate dresses, I hate people, I want to go lay under my blanket and have a large glass of wine and dwarf meat pies."

"Come now, don't be a downer. Does your blade not hunger for a cull? You'll be getting a sweet bloody treat later on- I'll let you keep the flesh."

She paused, thoughtful. "I do like flesh....."

"That's the spirit darling. Come now, we should be announced soon." He shook out his hair, no longer slicked back but slightly long and unruly. She liked it that way- as wild as his dark eyes.

From the parlor the manor house changed, dark flooring to beautiful creme tile, matching creme walls and chestnut panneling. Gold, and blue accents and paintings of nymphs and sleepy goats lined the walls.

One portrait was new, a woman with brown skin, deep burgundy eyes with a sad expression, her lips held a solum pout. Her hair was silvery blue, almost ethereal- she wore a simple blue dress and held items of selune.

"My heart- is that portrait new?" she admired the details as they passed. They walked arm in arm one of his hand petting her hand attached.

"It is indeed" he rumbled "I asked for your likeness- is it to your expectations?"

"Do I always look that sad then." She tilted her head, attempting to force a smile. Her lips found it hard to mold around.

He shrugged "I suppose, perhaps that's what the artist saw in your face. Asked them to use the portrait you gave me."

"ha! My father's portrait of me hm? I do look sad in that photo, mainly because I was hungry ."

"Perhaps we shall take more photos. Maybe we will capture your beautiful smile-" he plants a gentle kiss on her lips, his stubble gently scratching against her smooth skin.

They exhaled, contented, and anticipated the rush of noise following their announcement

"Enver, I am never doing this again. "

"I don't expect you too my darling"

The doors opened up and their names were announced

*Lady Wynne, paladin of selune and Lord Gortash of Wyrmere*

She shifted, uncomfortable at the attention. "I would much rather a discreet entrance but if this is the... Tradition. I shall do it."

She waved to the eyes and turned her way a cheesed smile plastered on her face.

"Think of it as any other scenario where I ask you to blend, remember you can be out of the dress after the first dance. Then our goal is to take out the target." He hummed, one hand on her waist. "Now because we are hosting this gala we must sit at the head of the table.

"Ugh just say I'm sick for that- Ill with the plague or some shit."

"Of course my darling." He helped her down the grand staircase, wary of her footing in the dress. She managed to look like she was floating down the stairs, she had an impression to make, this was her first noble circle appearance after all

The hall was loud, filled with a symphony voices each as distinct as a snowflake. Temples and churches sent their representatives, a contented looking, tall teifling escorted you to your seats. Her smile bright and her hands warm. Karlach her name was. One of Gortash's best.

Karlach was it? Beautiful creature she was. Would be a joy to see her innards.

Unfortunately within the realms of polite company such actions or thoughts are shamed.

Wynne smiled and introduced herself to the swarming hive of chatter, hands shook, flesh on flesh. Her ears rang with sound much louder than before: string instruments.

A dance had begun a good sign to keep her eyes peeled. A slight ping from her earring sent her catching Envers eye, he nodded toward the floor, before stopped by a shorter man dressed in a brilliant green frock.

They shook hands and fondly discussed things like old friends. The tyrant waved her over a tired "hold-it-together" smile on his face.

"Here's the lady of the hour!" He hummed taking her hand "lady Wynne, this is ... Lord? Astarion"

"Please - it's just Astarion, Astarion Anuncinn. At you and the lord's service." He paused "I am.. unfamiliar with the custom of meeting drow - is there a specific greeting?"

Her ears wiggled in odd excitement, "while I find it imensly charmed that you would ask, a handshake is fine. Our culture is no different than the norm."

The magistrate paused for a second, his eyes were gentle and thoughtful. "I'm sorry I hadn't meant to offend you" curls framed his face, silvery like spider silk, or a fine Iron. His milky white face bloomed with a faint pink in his cheeks, beautiful streaks of watercolor. How he'd make a pretty corpse.

"I can assure you none was taken. Now, astarion was it? What do you do for work?"

She hadn't expected to become this social. Hadn't expected someone charming such as the magistrate. His voice sung of an un-quenchable desire for something. Knowledge? Hunger? Power? Men and their secrets.

"hm? Me?" His hand was gloved "my lady, we have been hardly introduced- and you're already prying! How naughty." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles delicately. "Charmed. would you like to go somewhere quiet to discuss then?"

"Oh no!" She hummed "I'd like to leave period."

He raised his brow, something sparkling in his eye. "why does a sweet treat like you want to leave? I'm sure you'd be the belle of the ball"

"That's the point- I do not like the attention." His hand covered hers in a comforting way, his hands were cool, a low thrumming pulse emminating from them, though not sure from whom it was.

He hummed slowly, almost quizzical. His long lashes lowered and looking through them, "then why are you here."

She had never expected a question so personal. "I suppose.. it is my duty ultimately, as is every noble. Though I do not consider myself amongst their *ilk*"

He adjusted his ruffle collar "neither do I, I appear for my father often. He's less inclined to show up to parties like this." He paused for a moment "would you like to dance? Or perhaps we can find another quiet area to experience each other's company... Completely."

She hummed rocking back on her heels. "I am unsure how these parties work. Would you be willing to teach me?"

His smile was wide, cupids lip pulled taught and ready to fire. "I would quite like too."

*Don't get too carried away love. Remember to have a job to do*

He held out his hand, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. Wynne gingerly set her hand in his.

A string quartet played a slow and alluring rhythm as he spun her about. Careful and mindful of her feet- soft padded heels clicking against the floor

Perhaps this was the last time in her life she would have fun. Perhaps she should savor it.

Who knew.

#baulders gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 durge #my fics #new fic #fic writing #my fic #durgetash #durge #possible #astarion x reader #gortash x durge #gortash x dark urge #lord gortash #bg3 gortash #enver gortash #dark urge x gortash #bg3 fic #fic wip #bg3 dark urge #dark urge #nobility #Spotify

[cyanoticfireflies]

What if Angel doesn't sit still well so whenever it's a quiet(-ish) moment at the hotel his spider instincts kick in and he starts using one set of hands to weave bracelets, cross-stitch bookmarks, embroider borders on the pillow cases? He tries to hide it from the others because Val didn't like Angel having hobbies that weren't in line with his "image." But eventually Angel gets comfortable enough to start sharing with the group. Why yes, the pillows on the couch in the lounge area *did* get cuter. Alastor's cannibal cookbook has the most innocuous floral bookmark sticking out of it - it has a fringe! Every single member of the OG hotel family has a matching friendship bracelet. (Charlie smuggled Sir Pentious's to him through Emily.)

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust

[yujo-nishimura]

The Escape - Part 31

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 - Part 26 - Part 27 - Part 28 - Part 29 - Part 30

Warning: angst, darkness, character is in despair - please bare with the sadness of the situation, of course I will always provide a very happy end for my characters. ;)

It has been three days since your arrival in Alabasta, yet the intentions of Crocodile and the circumstances that brought you here remain unclear. The whole situation feels like a bewildering nightmare, leaving you grappling with a sense of confusion and uncertainty. It is as if you have stumbled into a surreal realm where reality and fantasy merge.

In this disorienting state, your mind often drifts back to the previous night, to the intimate encounter shared with Buggy. It was a fleeting moment of liberation, where you felt a newfound sense of control and freedom. The memory of that evening lingers, a stark contrast to the current situation that you are in.

Now, you find yourself seated in a lavishly adorned room. The floor beneath you boasts a gorgeous blend of white and gray marble, while the bed you rest upon is adorned with beautiful silk sheets and an array of luxuriously soft pillows. The opulence of the surroundings stands in stark contrast to the confusion and turmoil within your mind.

Within the room, a spacious closet awaits, filled with an abundance of clothes unlike anything you have ever possessed. Crocodile had insisted you wear the attire of local dancers, garments that exposed your belly and accentuated your décolleté. It was an unfamiliar style, one that made you feel both vulnerable and exposed.

Connected directly to the room was a private bath, adorned with opulence. A large golden bathtub in the middle of the room, of course made of marble. The sink exuded elegance and sophistication. An array of towels, meticulously embroidered with intricate floral designs, unnecessary beauty for your prison. In addition to the lavish amenities, your room boasted more than just the oversized bed and closet. A magnificent bookshelf was placed next to the door, housing a collection of captivating adventure stories, the diaries of former captains, and volumes chronicling the rich tapestry of history.  The curtains at the window are a rich shade of red, crafted from satin, and delicate tassels hold them in place. 

In the confines of the room, you felt like a princess locked within a castle. The door remained securely locked, while iron bars adorned the windows, effectively sealing your fate and preventing any chance of escape. Twice a day, a notorious butler would enter, delivering food on a tray, but your appetite waned, and you found it difficult to eat even a morsel of food or a sip of water. Instead, you remained seated on the bed, consumed by thoughts of Buggy and the haunting question of why he had abandoned you.

Over the past three days, Crocodile had resorted to various tactics in an attempt to break your spirit. From intimidation to fear, manipulation to feeble acts of kindness, he deployed a range of strategies. Upon your arrival, he callously threw you into this unfamiliar room, unsure if you were within a casino or if his tyrannical rule had overtaken the very palace of the nation already. However, such details mattered little to you, as your focus remained fixed on Captain Buggy. Where was he? 

You crawled to the bed upon your arrival and remained there for the duration of that first day. This first day brought a surprising shift in Crocodile's demeanor. He approached with an air of kindness, bearing a tray laden with bread, fruit and meat and an abundance of water. It was the first time since your captivity on his ship that you were afforded the luxury of consuming to your heart's content. However, the sudden indulgence left you feeling nauseous, prompting you to run to the bathroom to vomit all the nutritions out again. Crocodile, perhaps in a rare display of genuine concern, tried to offer you comfort by rubbing your back which you denied him and then he tried running you a soothing hot bath. The bath was a momentary respite but as the night wore on, your tears mingled with the sheets and you were overwhelmed by the lingering pain and longing for Buggy that continued to haunt you.

For the next two days, you maintained a resolute silence, refusing to engage with your captor. Ignoring his presence each time he entered the room only served to stoke his anger, further fueling his frustration. As evening approached, you eagerly awaited his arrival for dinner, determined to demonstrate your unwavering defiance. You had no intention of giving him even the slightest indication that he had gained any control over you.

Though weakened by your circumstances, you recognized that regaining your strength was crucial for formulating an escape plan. You knew that with proper nourishment and restful sleep, your former vitality would be restored. It was only a matter of time before you could once again gather the energy to plot your escape. 

As the door creaked open, you prepared yourself on the bed, instinctively seeking cover and aiming to display the least amount of attention to your predicament. Crocodile walked towards you, dressed in his signature long fur coat, a cigar nestled to the right side of his mouth. However, instead of bringing a tray of food, he presented a transponder snail, placing it before you on the bed sheets.

"You've been stubborn in your refusal to believe me, rejecting my offer to join forces. It seems your faith lies still in the notion that a certain clown will come to your rescue," Crocodile remarked, his voice laced with a mix of intrigue and contempt. "Well, here's your chance to prove yourself wrong."

Reluctantly, Crocodile settled on the bed beside you, causing a surge of vulnerability to course through your veins. The clothes he had provided, having stripped away the shirt and pants you had arrived in, only served to heighten your sense of exposure and unease.

"Come now, don't you want to reach out to your captain?" he taunted, his words twisting your stomach into knots, a sickening sensation that permeated your being.

"How? The Buggy Pirates don't possess a transponder snail..." you protest, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Are you sure?" Crocodile's grin widens, a sinister expression etched upon his face. In that moment, you remember—the day the Marines launched their assault, the fierce commander attempting to drag you away. It was then that Buggy had entered your room that evening, radiating with delight as he proudly announced the acquisition of a transponder snail. The realization dawns upon you, causing a gulp to catch in your throat.

"Do you still believe it was mere coincidence that I found you? How do you think I managed to infiltrate that ship?" Crocodile's words hang in the air, the weight of their implications sinking deep into your consciousness. "Go ahead, call him... His number is still stored in there."

You gaze at Crocodile, still grappling with disbelief, yet doubt gnaws at your heart, chipping away at your resolve. With hesitant hands, you reach for the transponder snail. The buzzing sound fills the room, followed by a familiar voice on the other end, weary yet unmistakably Buggy's. Despite the slight distortion, you recognize the harsh timbre, instantly identifying it as his.

"Crocodile? Hello? What do you want?" Buggy's voice echoes through the speaker, his tone laced with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Your attempt to respond falters, a gasp escaping your lips as Buggy mentions Crocodile's name. The speaker slips from your trembling hand, a choked cry caught in your throat.

Tears stream down your face, cascading uncontrollably. "Why...?" you manage to utter, your voice breaking amidst the sobs. In the background, you hear Buggy's voice, now tinged with fear, but his words remain unheard as your anguish consumes you. "Y/n, is that you?" You find yourself unable to respond, your body frozen in place, as Crocodile's laughter fills the air. He cruelly retrieves the speaker and places it back on the snail with a silent, mocking "gatchan."

The sound of his laughter shatters your heart into a thousand pieces. Overwhelmed by sorrow, you collapse onto the pillow, burying your face in an attempt to shield yourself from the tears that stream down your cheeks. The weight of despair engulfs you, and it feels as if all hope and innocence have been irreversibly lost in this very moment.

"I'll leave you alone for a while," Crocodile's voice unexpectedly softens, carrying a semblance of kindness and understanding. But you no longer wish to see him, or anyone else for that matter. The pain is too raw, too consuming. The world around you feels bleak and devoid of solace.

#one piece #buggytheclown #one piece buggy #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #long fanfic #buggy x you #nanowrimo 2023 #long reads #sir crocodile

[pseudepigraphon]

Image description: A textured illustration in bold shades of pink, magenta, blue, and purple. Three people-- a short-haired person in a fur-collared jacket, hand cocked on their hip; a bearded, fat person in embroidered robes sitting cross-legged; and a third person, thin with an afro, laying on their side, elbow propped up on a pillow, hand on their cheek, in a shirt with padded shoulders-- all lounge comfortably, making conversation, on a floral carpet in a large room with striped floors.

Behind them is a large window with tracery of creatures, humanoid and not, wings, curling flowers, and a sphere splitting into two. Outside the window can be seen as if from orbit a planet covered whirling blue-and-red clouds, a moon of its orbiting it, and two flaming streaks of light descending towards the planet, one by the other. Framing the window on one side is a portrait of a woman with flowing dark hair and an eyepatch, smiling serenely against a vague architectural background. On the other side is a flowing and abstracted, but undeniably figural, statue of something with a leaning head, a large pensive eye, and crest. End ID.

a scene from a dream i had recently, a sort of campy space opera

#this thing rotted in my files for ages because of the flare-up but IT LIVES #newt art #newt originals #i mean i suppose. it's not any of my worlds but it came from my own unconscious mind

[to-hypnos-we-dream]

How to Turn Your Bed into an Altar to Hypnos

Hypnos, the Divine God of Sleep. The God we give half our lives to as we rest every night.

I recently decided to transform my bed into an altar for Hypnos, and now my dreams have become more vivid and I wake up feeling that His energy is stronger around me. It's also easier to talk and pray to Him as I lay, I can become soothed easier as now it's a sacred space to Hypnos.

Offer your Bed as a Sacred Space to Hypnos

Start by cleansing your space of negativity whether with prayer, magick, or using cleansing tools such as sage. After, proceed to offer it to the God. This was my personal prayer as I offered:

"Lord Hypnos, Deity of Dreams and Rest, I offer my bed as a sacred space to you. May all placed on it be an offering, and may all done on it be devotion. May your spirit be welcome to it and may your calm be felt through the blankets and pillows."

2. Decoration

Now your bed is a sacred altar to Hypnos, now you can have fun and bring to Him specific decorations for your altar. Hypnos has association with flowers, so I bought floral blankets to lay upon it. He is also associated with blues, purples, reds, sliver, black, and white. Maybe this can be incorporated by colors of blankets or even stuffed animals. You don't need to be strict, as long as it remains a place of comfort and calm and holiness, it will make you and Hypnos happy.

3.Spending time with Hypnos

Now that my bed is an altar, I find myself laying on it while reading or playing video games. While I do these things, I feel His love and it makes me so happy. I also find myself napping on my bed more often as it just feels so safe. While having a partner or friend over, spending time on the bed either cuddling or anything else can also be seen as an offering or celebration to the God of Sleep Himself. As I cuddle my partner on my bed, I whisper my thanks to Hypnos for allowing my dreams to be reality. It overall just feels so nice and makes me so happy.

4.Tidyness

I always had a difficult time keeping my bed tidy, now it's much easier as I desire to keep my altar nice and clean. I spray it with lavender scent every day and I make sure to clean blankets or pillows when needed.

5.Creativity

One of my associations with Hypnos is creativity. I know how to crochet and making creations for my Bed Altar(like blankets) is absolutely adored by the God.

6.Other things you can do

-Make prayer cards and put them between your mattress

-dry lavender over your bed

-put a dream journal under your pillow

-make stuffed animals for your altar

-make blankets or pillow cases for your altar

-have an offering box under your bed for offerings like honey or poppy seeds and etc

-use sleeping masks

-get a pillow stuffed with feathers(one of Hypnos's symbols)

-get a "sacred sleep robe" aka a robe you offer to Him and wear for Him

-Embroider symbols onto pillows or Pjs, or blankets

-listen to soothing music while resting

#hypnos deity #hypnos worship #hellenic deities #hellenic pagan #hellenic polytheism #pagan #deity worship #helpol #hypnos devotee #hypnos devotion #hellenism #hellenic gods #guide #altar #magick #witchcraft #witchblr #witch community #pagan witch

[moral-terpitude]

Misadventures - Part 4

You threw your drink at the wall · it started raining wine and glass so · stay and warm me with the Gentleman Jack · gold locks on the cage · turn your diamond keys

Oh good, I just checked and I posted the previous part Feb 2. Seriously have lost track of time and thought I hadn’t posted since December.

Word Count: 2402

[Series Masterlist] [Preface] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

It took a week before she heard from him.

Updating social media as a creative person was the bane of Quinn’s existence. Marketing and promotion weren’t reasons she wanted to do tattoos, the appreciation and love of art was, but Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, those were all free marketing.

So she begrudgingly spent her day off in bed, editing, cropping, and uploading until she didn’t want to stare at a screen anymore.

Quinn stretched, fishing the phone out of the sea of the comforter that she had dozed back off in, for a messenger notification.

Thomas?

When the fuck did Facebook decide we needed to be on a first name basis with people?

Thomas.

She squinted at the photo before tapping on the name.

Thomas Shelby.

Jesus Christ, Quinn, get it together.

Quinn felt the blankets shift as her tiny, well at one time he was tiny, companion jumped up on the bed, sensing her movement beneath the covers.

“Hi Mr. Bee,” her voice croaked, still raspy from the night as the black long haired cat curled up next to her, already purring. He nuzzled his forehead against the bottom of her chin, before turning her arm into his own pillow.

“Oh, so this is how it’s going to be this morning, huh?” She rubbed his belly as he continued purring, rolling on to his back as Quinn’s phone lit up once again.

Quinn sighed, wriggling out from under the covers and throwing everything in the basket. Beelzebub watched her with skepticism as his nap was disturbed. Which led her to actually check the time and see that it was 3:45pm.

“Shit! Totally not prepared for this today.” Quinn whispered as she dug through the closet, the only clean casual clothes being a pair of cropped leggings and a floral embroidered hoodie. It would have to do.

She felt like an idiot as a smile spread across her face, typing out the address of the complex and instructing him to park in the alley since it was easier to go out the side door.

“Teeth. Face. Clean. God damn it.” She had said this year she was going to start getting up early and doing something with her days off.

It had been a couple months into the year that that had been abandoned.

“Do I look okay, Bee?” The only solution for her mane of hair today was to pile it on her head and hope for the best.

Usually Hannah would braid it if Quinn asked nicely.

It looked cold out so sandals were out of the question, as she slipped on a pair of moccasins and her furry companion only blinked slowly, now returned to the warm spot in the middle of the bed from his adventure to drink in the bathroom sink while she threw herself together.

“Thanks for the help, Bud.”

By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, the container of detergent and laundry sheets bouncing around in the midst of the clothes, she saw the black Range Rover already idling on the right side of the alley.

She opened the rear passenger door, tossing in the basket, to hear him talking through the voice controls of the car.

“Then fucking call Johnny and have him go fix it if no one can get out there. Christ, John, I don’t know what you expect me to do from here.”

Quinn climbed in the passenger seat and hooked the seatbelt, surprised to find herself gawking at how good he looked in a suit.

Whoever tailored it definitely deserved whatever they charged.

“Sorry,” he mouthed, putting the car in drive.

She shrugged, popping the AirPods in her ears to avoid eavesdropping. However, due to proximity she found out quickly that it was unavoidable.

“Okay, Tommy. The other thing is…”

“What, John. Out with it, eh?”

“Two of the cargo containers at the port in Camden Town were emptied out last night. Not even a fucking manifest left inside. The cameras quit working around 10:30 and came back on at 5 this morning.”

“Everyone goes off duty at 10,” Tommy sighed, as a red car cut him off in traffic.

“And comes in at 6, yeah.” John finished the thought, as Tommy lay on the horn.

“You good, Tom?”

“Fucker cut me off and can’t parallel park for shit. Listen, pull the schedules and see if anyone called in last night. Check and see if any of the exterior cameras happened to still be up. Call me back when you find something out.”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

���Bye, John.”

There was silence for a few blocks before they entered the parking garage for the market. Quinn decided whatever the conversation was about, it wasn’t good. Clearly there had been some kind of robbery, and she was positive it was none of her business to be asking questions about it.

“Hi,” she smiled, deciding that it was the most neutral starting point for conversation, before immediately deciding to wreck it, “I would ask how your day is, but it seems shitty from what I gathered, so, I won’t ask.”

Tommy glanced at her as she stared out the window, watching as the cars whizzed by with each level they went up.

“Yeah, well, tomorrow’s a new day, eh?”

Quinn nodded, tucking the headphones back in her pocket as they exited the vehicle.

“That’s a good point.”

Tommy watched Quinn from a distance, after they agreed that splitting up would be quicker, as she wandered in and out of the different sections of the market. It was like she was unsure but knew exactly what she was looking for all at once.

When she would pause to look at something, her fingers would find their way into the back of her hair or she would chew at her nails until she either picked something out or moved on.

She had lingered, barely, at the counter of exquisite looking chocolate and baked goods before moving on entirely.

There was something, endearing, for lack of a better term, about how casually she was dressed, Tommy realized. She was already small, but the looseness of the sweater almost consumed her, and—

“Do you have butter?”

He hadn’t noticed that she had fallen in stride next to him, brows raised as she waited for an answer, and it made him wonder if she had asked more than once before he noticed what she said.

“Yes.” He smiled, holding back the chuckle that threatened to escape, although she was serious it seemed like an absurd question.

They wove in and out through the thrum of people, as she glanced around quickly.

“Okay, then I’m all set.”

“Don’t I get to know at all what you’re making?”

“No,” she shook her head, “that would ruin it being a surprise.”

“What if I’m allergic to something?” He made a feeble attempt to look in the basket, trying to overturn the bundle of asparagus to see what else she was carrying.

“Well,” she swatted his hand away out of the basket, and propped it on her other hip, “are you?”

“No.”

Quinn tried not to laugh at the seriousness in his demeanor.

How the fuck did she end up wandering around with someone that actually has to wear a suit in real life? Suits were for weddings and funerals with the people she knew, and sometimes it was just a dress shirt and slacks at their best.

“Then, I’m not telling you!”

She huffed as she took another step, attempting to keep up with his stride.

“Why?”

Her brows knitted together as she looked up through her lashes, “Because you’re being facetious and speaking in monosyllabic sentences.”

Quinn watched out the window for most of the ride, not that she had never seen that part of the city, but it’s different when you’re used to going to the same places all of the time to finally see somewhere different again.

“Radio works fine, if you want to put something on.” Tommy offered, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see her perched leaned against the door, the sunlight catching the fine hairs that had gotten loose and making an orange halo play around her face.

She smiled, “I don’t mind the quiet, really.”

“Nice place.” Quinn glanced around as she sat the bag on the counter, retreating to the entryway of the apartment, a small mud room where the washer and dryer were located, to unload the basket of clothes.

“Thanks.” Tommy hung the suit jacket on the back of the tall chair at the kitchen island, before putting the groceries he had bought away.

“What’s the trick with this thing?” Quinn peeked around the corner of the fridge, eyes wide, awaiting a response.

Tommy stepped into the door way, looking past her to see the lid of the washer open. “It has to be closed or the water won't run. Fucking safety mechanism, can’t put anything to soak.”

Quinn nodded, letting the lid catch, before changing the settings to cold water, and, with a sigh of relief, pushing start.

“Fuck. That’s so much better.” She stretched, returning to the kitchen, in a printed black tee shirt, “it’s fucking warm in here.”

“Ninety-one?”

“Dennis Rodman? Chicago Bulls?” Her eyebrows shot up as she spoke, eyes widening as she searched his face for some ounce of recognition.

Tommy shook his head.

“Big,” she gestured, holding her hand up as far as she could reach, “black, guy. He was a power forward in every position he played. Number 10 for the Detroit Pistons, 10 for the San Antonio Spurs,” she continued stirring the sauce in the pan, before setting the spoon down to continue ticking off each number on her fingers, “91 for the Chicago Bulls, 73 for the LA Lakers, 70 for the Dallas Mavericks.”

“None of it rings a bell.”

“He’s fucking eccentric and I love it. He went to North Korea to visit Kim Jong Un in, uh, 2013? He played in the NBA for 14 seasons, with five championships, and was a two time all star. Dennis Rodman?”

“I’ve not watched much American sports.”

Quinn paused, taken aback at his statement, “You haven’t caught a Yankees game on TV?”

“No,” Tommy shrugged, as he continued loading the already used and no longer needed items into the dishwasher before closing it once again.

She must have dirtied every utensil possible while she was cooking, and he wasn’t going to stop her. It seemed like a fair trade at this point for getting to see her.

“Oh, we are gonna change that.” She added the already sautéed scallops to the pan once again, giving them a stir.

“Why, do they play tonight?”

Quinn looked at him, as he stood, arms crossed and leaned against the counter, the light smattering of freckles on his skin somehow more apparent than it had been before.

Something about their surroundings, maybe because she was occupied, maybe because of the warm deep tones of every bit of the place, rich wood, dark stone counters, leather furniture, she just felt comfortable.

“No,” she shook her head, grabbing the hot pad before pulling the baguette out of the oven, “but, we’ll go to a game sometime. It’s different in person.”

She flitted about the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers until she found what she needed, not bothering to ask where anything was.

It didn’t take long before there were two plates sat at the island.

“Bon Appetit,” she laughed into the glass as she took another sip of the water, balanced carefully on the chair with both legs crossed.

“Holy fuck,” his remark caught her off guard, not able to discern from his tone if it was a complement or not.

“Is it bad?”

“Fucking no, it’s amazing.”

She smiled, feigning embarrassment as she hid behind her free hand.

“Don’t tell me someone ever told you you can’t cook.”

She cleared her throat, “uh, once. Well, a few times actually. I ended up taking a cooking class when I moved here because it bothered me so much. The chef basically asked me why I was there.”

Tommy could feel the shift as she finished speaking. She gave a half-hearted smile before turning her attention to her plate, the light in her green eyes dimming a tad as she did.

“Well, they were a fucking idiot, eh?”

She tilted her head, watching him, some wave of normalcy coming over her at the way he sat, sleeves rolled, not daring to put his elbows on the counter.

Would this have been what it was like, if things had never all gone to shit with Gerard? Just a normal night.

“Yeah,” she agreed, finally taking a bite of the food, “he is. He was. Anyway.”

She cleared her throat, and Tommy could read people well enough to know it was time to stop talking about it.

“How,” she sighed, “it’s not any of my business, I guess.”

Tommy shrugged, giving a shake of his head, “I’ve gone and pried, go on, eh?”

“How are your kids?”

Tommy blinked, nodding as he looked away, eyes scanning as he thought.

“The horseshoes,” she nodded at the tattoo on the inside of his arm, “I noticed them the other day, but I wasn’t sure if it was parents names or kids or…” her eyes flicked to the photo hanging on the fridge, from the last time they visited at the beginning of summer, in Central Park.

“I don’t like that they’re so far away,” her heart twisted at the way his expression changed, looking more pained, “it makes it difficult. They’re with their mom and closer to family that way though.”

She had the thought, for a brief second, that maybe she could ask a bit more, but it was stolen away as his phone started ringing from its spot discarded on the counter.

“Fuck, sorry.”

Quinn shrugged, returning to her food as she thought about his words as he answered the phone.

Their mom. It did sound politer than calling her an ex or baby mama, and he didn’t wear a ring.

Quit daydreaming, Quinn, not like anything’s going to happen anyway.

[pappydaddy]

style (j.m.)

a/n: so, i had this idea when i was wandering around my room in my new cute bra that i am in love with this morning and i wrote this in like two hours... i was thinking about it all day so i had to write it in my big-ass gap between classes (school work who? we don't know her, only fics).

anywho, this will be part of the 1989 collection whenever blonde releases the re-record (that's when i will publish the masterlist to the collection), but i couldn't not do this to this song - it would have been illegal and i am a criminology major after all...

i hope you like this one lovelies and for the people waiting on requests, i am working on them! trust me, they should be coming out shortly lovelies💛!

tv show/movie: outer banks

pairing: jj maybank x fem!kook!reader

not requested

synopsis: good-girl kook y/n and bad boy pogue jj, something that y/n doesn't want to go out of style. no matter what brought them together.

taglist: @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @popeheywardssecretgf | @lexi-2004 | @i-always-come-back-xoxo | @rootbeerfaygo | @luvhanns | @thelakespoets | @lonely-simplicityty | @smarie7543 *line through your user means i could not tag you lovely!

warnings: fwb kinda gig, secret relationship (a little), infidelity (kinda), steamy make-out, mention of being half naked

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

- not my gif -

Perhaps what they say is true, the good girls always go for bad boys. Or, perhaps the thrill of a secret romance with the boy who seems to bring trouble everywhere he goes is far too strong for anybody to resist. Whatever it is, Y/N loved it. She loved the thrill, the high, the rush she gets. Maybe that’s why she and JJ work so well together. The classic dynamic - the constantly in style romance. 

  Y/N questioned this all, just like normal, as she paced around her room after a long day. After getting up at five in the morning and doing nothing but tending to her studies, she was finally winding down for the night. Clad in her floral embroidered soft cupped (sheer) bra, her phone still in hand, her mind was ablaze. She knew they didn’t arrange to meet up tonight, but she kind of wished JJ would pull up in John B’s van with the headlights off to sneak her out of her parents' fortress of money and greed.

  Alas, here she stood, half-dressed in her favourite (and JJ’s favourite) short a-line skirt and low-cut top combination, her lips painted her classic red (a sight she loves to see smeared on JJ’s lips). She had dropped countless hints to him that her parent’s business trip had been extended for another week, but yet, he’s out with Sandra Hanson - the bitch from Gym class. “Tomorrow she is so getting a soccer ball to her new nose.” She grumbled. 

  It had taken a lot of persuading and Y/N intercepting her papers from getting to Kook Academy to convince her parents to keep her in public school. The argument being that she could use the fact she chose to continue with public education as an entrance essay topic and the fact she is taking all AP courses (except gym) as a leg up. Ironically enough, the only other Kook at public school was Sandra who had gotten kicked out of the academy for disorderly conduct.

  Groaning, she flopped down onto her bed, phone tumbling out of her hands from where the picture message Kie had sent her of Sandra and JJ looking close still sat on her screen. A ping made her look at it again, this time Sarah in their group chat, the same one Kie sent the picture in. ‘that bitch’ Sarah had typed. 

  ‘I know but they seem to be doing some sort of school work’ Kie typed back instantly. She had been picking the keys for the car up from her mother at the Wreck and spotted the two. JJ’s back was to her, failing to realise one of his friends and Y/N’s best friend was there. 

  ‘jj? doing school work? unlikely’ Sarah replied, the pings dinging in Y/N’s ears as she laid there. Groaning, she covered her face with a pillow, the bed bouncing from the movement. ‘idk tho why would jj suddenly take interest in Sandra when hes obvo obsessed with y/n something’s up’ Sarah double texted. 

  ‘they are leaving. in separate cars’ Kie updated. As much fun and no matter how much Y/N finds her head spinning in delight whenever JJ is involved, she couldn’t help but remember times like this. When she can’t get a read on him. It has been weeks since they officially talked or hung out. It had been sneaky note slipping when eating lunch with the group, partnering up in gym, and late-night texts sent hours apart. Nobody knew about them. They knew they were smitten with each other and liked each other, but nobody knew about them and it was driving Y/N crazy. 

  They went in these circles all the time. Hot, heavy, and constant for a month then barely anything for weeks until JJ comes to her, telling her that her little outfits at school were driving him crazy or telling her he missed her. She hated this part of it. It was enough for a little voice in her head to tell her to not let him into the house next time, but she always did anyway. 

  Huffing, she stood up from her bed. There was no point in staying up later than it already is just to wait around in an empty house for a boy who wasn’t gonna show up. Plugging her phone in, she shuffled around the room, deciding a nice unplugged bath was needed. “Whew, didn’t know I would be greeted like this.” JJ’s muffled voice startled her. Looking to her partially open window, she saw him crouched on her roof, a boyish smile on his lips. That same boyish smile that got her to do anything he wanted. 

  His eyes landed on her bra-clad breasts and stayed there while she walked over, unlocking and opening the window the rest of the way. Without hesitating, JJ crawled in, making her step back. And then, it was just like he was home and Y/N had that voice in her head again. Sighing out in comfort and relaxation, JJ shrugged out of his leather jacket, tossing it to her desk chair without taking his eyes off her. “I hardly think it’s fair that you’re standing here half naked and I’m fully clothed.” He mentioned, hands gripping the bottom of his white t-shirt. 

  “I hardly think it’s fair that I was here thinking you would be coming to see me when you were tramping around town with Sandra Hanson tonight and Audrey Glassman last night.” She remarked, crossing her arms over her chest. Covering her sheer bra, but consequently pushing her boobs together. 

  JJ deflated, hands leaving his shirt before coming up to run through his hair that was actually slicked back like it usually is when he plans to see someone. There was a pang in her heart when she realised that it was meant for Sandra tonight. “Look, yes, I hung out with them, but Y/N, I couldn’t get you off my mind for the past few weeks. It’s been driving me mad. I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I was with them.” 

  Y/N rolled her eyes. She knew she should tell him to leave. She knew she should, but she didn’t. With a sigh, she let her hands swing to her side, eyes flicking up to meet his. She swore that for a second, she was feeling what her grandmother felt whenever she gushed about the time she met James Dean. The same handsome sparkle she sees in the old picture of the two (she was pretty sure they dated but, her grandmother won’t confess). “Yeah, I’ve been there too a few times.” She admitted. 

  It was true. JJ always seemed to occupy her mind. Even when she was with other guys. The way he cannot seem to keep his wild eyes on the road when they’re driving somewhere. The way he fits right into her house as if he lives there too. The way his eyes sparkled when he looked at her. It was never sexual (well, rarely) whenever she thought of him. Sure, she thought of his touch, but it was the comforting feel of his hand on her lower back as he’s guiding her to their private date spot in the dark or the light feeling of his fingertips pressing into her upper back whenever he feels protective over her (usually whenever Rafe is nearby). 

  “What do you say, Baby,” JJ asked, walking towards her. “You forgive me? Nothing happened with either of them, you have my word and I might not have much, but I do have that.” He told her, grabbing her hands, holding them up as he came chest to chest with her. His forehead leaned down, resting against hers as their noses brushed.

  Her eyes fluttered closed as she relished in the feeling. His breath fanned over her lips as he watched her intently, not doing anything until he knew for sure she was okay. Slowly, almost non-existent, there was a nod. “Yeah.” She breathed out. 

  “Good,” He breathed out in the same way. “Now, let me show you exactly why you were on my mind when I was with them.” He whispered seconds before their lips crashed together in a feverish kiss. It was messy, hands roaming everywhere, lips mushed together so hard it almost hurt. Tongues and a little bit of spit moving from mouth to mouth, but they didn’t care if drool was rolling down either of their faces. 

  Chests rose and fell rapidly and it was only a few seconds in, but that’s how passionate they are. Hands gripping the bottom of JJ’s t-shirt, Y/N pulled it up, her knuckles dragging along his abs (both for her pleasure and his) making his muscles ripple and his back hunch slightly. Humming into the kiss at the feeling, Y/N nearly ripped the shirt off him, JJ pulling away to get rid of the barrier before resuming the kiss with more vigour, forcefully lifting her up into the air, her legs wrapping around his waist as some sort of automatic response. 

  The air in the room was already thick with the smell of arousal and sex. Their skin became sticky as they worked each other up. It was as if they were a force when together, possessing the power to make any room seem like a sex room specifically used for sex twenty-four seven in under ten seconds. 

With her back pressed into the wall suddenly, JJ's weight pressing her flush against it, he rolled his pelvis into hers making her tear her lips away from him, the feeling of his clothed, jean-clad pelvis rolling against hers that was basically only covered by her panties due to her skirt riding up send shock waves through her body. His lips latched onto her throat without a second thought, inciting another gasp from her - a sound that drove him mad.

  Sure, she should have told him to leave, but that wouldn’t have fixed anything. There is no way to pull them apart. No matter how many times she tells him to leave, they just keep coming back because they will never go out of style. Never. Now, be that the sheer magnitude of their passion and feelings or the pull of the stereotype they so perfectly fit, Y/N had no idea, but she never wanted it to stop.   

#pappydaddy writes #pappydaddy #obx #outer banks fics #outer banks fic #outer banks angst #jj outer banks #outer banks #jj oneshot #jj imagines #jj x reader #jj angst #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank angst #jj maybank blurbs #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank fics #jj maybank fic #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank imagine angst #jj maybank oneshot

[youngbounty]

How to Vampire

I know it’s a bit late, but I was at camp and didn’t have time to finish this before the date. I hope you enjoy this regardless. Vampire AU. Enjoy! @asobaroweek

The agony was unbearable. He writhed in agony, unable to pinpoint the source of the searing pain, and utterly clueless as to how it had come about. All he longed for was a respite, a chance to escape the all-encompassing torment. The anguish was unrelenting – throbbing in his limbs, throbbing in his skull, throbbing in his chest. It even seemed to inhabit his very being. Each breath was a struggle, his mouth and throat dry and on fire. He could not find release, and even the faintest attempt to scream was met with futility. Paralyzed and helpless, he was a prisoner in his own body.

His body was engulfed in flames of pain, leaving him questioning if anyone could aid him. With his eyes firmly shut, he remained oblivious to the world around him. The searing sensation ravaged his body, intensifying with each passing moment. His heart struggled to pump life into his fragile frame in the unsettling silence. However, this hope was short-lived, as the acidic torment threatened his existence. Despite his heart's desperate attempts to survive, it was unable to overcome the destructive force plaguing his body. The final beats echoed in his ears before succumbing to a deafening silence.

'Am I dead?'

Inhale. Exhale.

'I seem to be breathing, so at least I'm alive.'

Movement. The hand moved towards the chest, with fingers wiggling before finally clutching onto the soft cotton fabric.

'Blanket. I must be in bed.'

With a gentle hand, the blanket was moved aside to reveal the bare chest, devoid of any warmth or signs of life. Continuing upwards, the hand reached the neck to check for a pulse, but it was absent. However, a moment of silence was interrupted by...

'What's this? This mark. Did someone bite me!?'

As his eyes opened, he became aware of his surroundings. He lay on a plush bed, adorned with two large, pristine white pillows and a velvet blanket, embroidered with black thread that formed an intricate, sprawling tree with roots stretching towards the bottom. The room had a dim, cozy atmosphere with warm hues, exemplified by the light red curtains that adorned the windows. Despite the lack of light, he could still distinguish each object in the room, including the Mahogany dresser, mirror frame, bedside tables, bed frame and wardrobe, all radiating a sense of elegance. The carpet, a warm shade of orange-red, welcomed his feet with every step. The walls were decorated with floral wallpaper - a sophisticated blend of black and red hues over a soft white undercoat, adding to the room's luxurious charm.

As he stepped onto the velvety carpet, he made his way toward the window, curiously peeking out. The inky darkness enveloped the outdoors, save for the radiant moon, beaming down upon him with a serene smile. The picturesque garden lay before him, illuminated by a soft, pale light that accentuated its undulating flowers, verdant foliage, and towering trees. It was a sight of sublime beauty that left him spellbound.

'I must be inside the guest room of a very wealthy person,' he thought to himself.

Struggling to articulate, he rasped, "Did he-" before breaking into a fit of coughs. Clasping a hand over his mouth, he suddenly felt an unnerving sensation. Brushing his index finger over his teeth, he discovered two pointed canines that surpassed human sharpness. Panic etched across his face as he hesitantly murmured, "Am I-"

With a click, the door slowly opened and the young man swiveled around, alert and watchful. The soft gas lights illuminated the room in a blazing glow. Suddenly, the air crackled with an overarching aura of intimidation as a towering, older gentleman entered, exuding an air of authority. His eyes were a mesmerizing shade of icy blue and his swaying locks boasted a lustrous lavender hue. Dressed in a white button-up shirt tucked beneath a dazzling gold-trimmed blue waistcoat, he wore a striking ascot beneath his chin. Meanwhile, his off-white slacks flared out to his sizable boots, matching the indigo hue of his vest. Glistening at his hip, a sword glinted menacingly. The young man instinctively froze, his mind racing with a thousand unanswered questions. Was this the man responsible for bringing him here? And most pressing of all, did he...?

The man spoke in a reassuring tone, "There's no need to fear. How are you feeling?" 

The young man struggled to ask who the man was but was overcome by a coughing fit, feeling strange and unable to speak. 

“Forgive my discourtesy of not offering you a drink before speaking,” The man apologized and poured him a goblet filled with red wine-like liquid that had a unique fragrance. Without hesitation, the young man drank it all, thirstily. 

“Who are you? Who am I? What am I?”

"My name is Barok van Zieks. You are now a vampire, transformed last night, and cannot remember anything before that," the man explained calmly. 

Kazuma couldn't believe what he was hearing and looked in the mirror to find that his dark black hair had a choppy appearance, his dark brown eyes seemed lifeless, and his lips dripped red with the fluid the man just gave him. 

"Is that blood?" Kazuma asked, wiping his tongue across his lips. 

"Yes, human blood is essential to our survival. As you've just experienced, you can't survive or speak without it," Barok answered.

Kazuma met his gaze in the mirror as he processed this life-changing news. Despite not remembering anything from his human life, being a vampire didn't seem as terrifying. He asked, “Who made me like this?”

Barok replied, "It was me. You were on the brink of death, and I had to use my venom to save you." 

Kazuma felt the bite mark where he had been bitten by Barok. He questioned, “why did you save me?” 

Barok closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts, and replied, "I couldn't let you die. If I did, I would never forgive myself." Kazuma noticed a badge resembling a cross on Barok's chest. 

In gratitude, Kazuma bowed to Barok and offered, “Then, I thank you for saving my life. If there is anything I can do to serve you...”

“I only ask you allow me to teach you about being a vampire. I expect your memories to eventually return in about a year. In the meantime, I intend on ensuring you know everything there is to know about being a vampire, hunting for food, surviving in the night and how to defend yourself from hunters.”

“Hunters?”

"Trained humans hunt and kill vampires, and I once faced one sent to kill me. There will likely be more to come."

“This Hunter, was he the reason I almost died that day?”

With a pained expression, Barok responded in a defeated tone, "You could say that." He turned his face away, unable to meet Kazuma's gaze. "Your friend was there too, desperately trying to save you from the fatal fall. Despite his valiant efforts, it was simply too late. No doubt, he's in the throes of unimaginable grief. It was he who implored me to save you... I would even say he begged."

“My friend?”

"Ryunosuke Naruhodo is not only your partner, but a dear friend. As a Vampire Hunter, he only targets those who pose a threat to humankind. Despite his efforts to prevent the Hunter from attacking me, the man's arrogance got the best of him and things escalated quickly."

“I see. He sounds like a very good friend. Where is he now?”

“Likely preparing for bed. It is past Midnight. Humans are not Nocturnal like us. He will be sleeping very soon.”

Kazuma's yearning to see his dear friend and partner grew stronger as he asked, "Can I see him please?"

“Of course,” Barok nodded. Kazuma hastily searched through the closet and found a Yukata to wear, wanting to dress more appropriately since he only had a pair of pants and no shirt. “Follow me.”

Kazuma trailed behind Barok as they made their way down the hallway, his eyes transfixed on the countless portraits adorning the walls. Vivid depictions of the tranquil beach, lush park and magnificent mansion caught his eye, but it was the portrait of Barok's parents that particularly piqued his interest. Despite his intrigue, Kazuma remained focused on following the older vampire, his footsteps echoing through the luxurious cavernous foyer. As he took in the exquisite decor, he couldn't help but wonder at the sheer magnitude of the estate. Had he ever seen anything quite so opulent before?

As they ascended the grand staircase to the first floor, Barok pointed out the location of the living room to Kazuma, directing his gaze to a sizable sofa where a young man was engrossed in a book while clad in a Yakuta. The moment he caught sight of the newcomer, the young man leaped to his feet and laid aside his book, hurrying over to greet Kazuma.

“You're awake! I feared you'd never open your eyes again?” The young man cried, filled with elation and tears welled up in his eyes.

“A-Are you... Ryunosuke?” Kazuma asked.

“Y-Yes,” Ryunosuke replied, brushing off the tears. “Lord van Zieks said you'd likely not remember me after the transformation. How do you feel?”

“... I don't know. Happy that I'm not dead, but mostly confused,” Kazuma replied, feeling misplaced. His hand reached to his throat. “My throat also feels scratchy.”

“Most likely from thirst. That bottle I gave you isn't going to be enough to fill you. You need blood, live human blood.”

“I-I see... where do I find one?”

“Erm....” Ryunosuke responded, his hand unconsciously rubbing the nape of his neck.

“You are looking at him right here,” Barok said, glancing at Ryunosuke.

“Him!? Ryunosuke!? You want me to drink HIS blood?” Kazuma asked, eyes dilating.

“It's alright. I told Lord van Zieks I'd be willing to let you feed from me when you first wake up,” Ryunosuke replied.

“O-Oh,” Kazuma said. Uncertain of his emotions, he pondered whether it was ethical to feed from his closest companion. Would he have consented to this arrangement in human form?

“Before understanding the art of hunting, it is essential to learn to feed. As vampires, human blood is our only means of sustenance and therefore, we must treat it with reverence. Feeding from a human without their explicit consent is strictly forbidden. Similarly, humans respect their food when they grow, hunt, or rear it in their farms. As a sign of respect, we never consume humans entirely and refrain from exhibiting gluttony. Instead, it is vital to nurture and care for our source of food. Ryunosuke serves as an excellent first source to learn this practice. If you can regard your prey with the same affection as your closest confidant, I trust that you shall always honor and cherish our source of nourishment.”

With a nod, Kazuma realized the truth in those words. Though he hadn't previously considered it, humans raise and care for livestock, such as chickens, goats and cattle, before consuming them. If humans could display such care and affection towards their food, why should vampires not hold themselves to the same standard when consuming humans? Kazuma now saw the value in choosing his partner and best friend as his first source of nourishment.

"How exactly do I feed?" Kazuma queried.

"First, ensure that your prey is relaxed and comfortably fed. You can discern this by checking the shape of their body. As an example, Mr. Naruhodo consumed a satisfying dinner a mere few hours ago," Barok advised.

"I must say, it was quite delicious. Thank you," Ryunosuke chimed in, grinning. Kazuma could sense the aroma of his friend's recent meal.

"You had beef, mashed potatoes, beans and broccoli," Kazuma said.

“You can sense what I've been eating?” Ryunosuke asked.

"Remember, our sense of smell is far more advanced than that of humans," Barok interjected. 

"I see," Ryunosuke acknowledged.

"Kazuma, to locate your bite, rely on your sense of smell. It is essential to choose a spot at the back or side of the neck and refrain from biting near the front where the jugular can be found. Such a bite could damage the voice box, esophagus, and windpipe-- critical structures necessary for respiration and nourishment. It's crucial to remember that humans require breathing and sustenance to survive. Biting the carotid artery could prove fatal, resulting in the wastage of a valuable food source. Only consider biting that area when transforming a human into a vampire."

“Wait, you mean there's a particular way you bite when you feed?” Ryunosuke asked, his eyes broadening.

"Precisely. Drinking blood requires precision. Biting the artery is not recommended as it can become dangerous for both parties. Therefore, we aim for the Jugular Vein. It's crucial to make a small nick which will instantly allow blood to flow like a fountain into our mouths. Once sated, we use our tongue to seal the wound with saliva and stop the flow of blood."

“Alright, a small pierce of the vein located on the side or back of the neck, then close the holes with a swipe of my tongue,” Kazuma said with intent in his countenance. He faced Ryunosuke. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I ever could be,” Ryunosuke reassured Kazuma, who inhaled deeply, honing his sense of smell to locate a stronger and richer flow of blood.

One thing Kazuma came to learn was that he couldn't just smell through his nose, he could feel blood flow through his teeth. There were two types of blood flowing from Ryunosuke's side of the neck. One felt stronger and richer, while the other one felt slow and poor. He bit the flow of blood that was stronger and richer, trying to be careful to not bite too hard.

Ryunosuke winced in agony, his grip tightening on Kazuma's arms as warmth flooded Kazuma's mouth in a delicious rush. The flavor was unparalleled, surpassing even the red liquid Barok had given him when he first awakened. As the liquid flowed down his throat, it soothed the scratchiness and calmed him, the sensation reminiscent of a baby nursing at its mother's breast. Kazuma felt the pulse from Ryunosuke's neck and the steady beat of his heart, both sensations oddly familiar to him. Perhaps it was a remnant of the agony he experienced during his transformation or the nearly deadly fall that nearly killed him as a human.

Kazuma's stomach eventually filled as he attempted to remove his mouth from Ryunosuke's neck, only to remember the holes still pouring blood into his mouth. He hastily licked the wounds before they sealed immediately, allowing him to safely remove his mouth and wipe the excess blood away.

“It seems you forgot to cover the holes before pulling out your canines," Barok observed.

“My apologies. I had forgotten for a moment,” Kazuma replied.

"Make sure to cover the holes next time. This is your first feeding after all."

Ryunosuke stretched his arms and let out a loud yawn. "Surprisingly, it didn't hurt as much as I thought it would," he said. "It's unlike any other attack I've ever experienced."

"Perhaps the difference in experience was because those vampires had malicious intentions to attack and kill you, rather than simply feed from you," Barok explained.

“O-Oh... I suppose that's true, huh?” Ryunosuke's lips curved into a grin as he rubbed the back of his head.

Kazuma's inquisitive tone filled the silence as he asked, "So... you're a vampire hunter. Was I...?"

"As I recall, our paths intertwined at Yumei University and then you encouraged me to join you in vampire hunting. It's a legacy that runs deep in your family, Kazuma. You were one of the most accomplished and formidable vampire hunters in the land," Ryunosuke stated with a gleam in his eyes. Moving towards the sofa, he picked up a bow and quiver with silver arrowheads and continued, "I supported you as your partner and archer. I would attack from afar, while you wielded the Karuma, your cherished family sword, with fearless abandon."

"Karuma?" Kazuma inquired with a hint of recognition. Ryunosuke affirmed the name with a nod and reached for a sheathed sword that was cleverly concealed from Kazuma's sightline. As he handed the weapon to his companion, Kazuma took it gingerly, examining it with caution.

"Be careful with that. Remember, you're a vampire now, so the silver will hurt more than it used to," warned Barok.

Knowing Ryunosuke recently lost blood from Kazuma's feeding, Barok suggested, "You should eat before going to bed, to replenish your energy."

"I hadn't thought of that. Thanks for the tip," Ryunosuke acknowledged with a grin, before turning to Kazuma and giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Good to have you back, partner."

With his fingers wrapped around the hilt of Karuma, Kazuma was awash with a warm and buoyant sensation. The sword felt like an extension of his very being, a tool to aid his transformation from seasoned vampire hunter to newly-made vampire. Kazuma knew that if he was to have any chance of survival in this strange new world, he would need to learn how to be a vampire. The very notion of it filled him with a curious mix of apprehension and excitement. As he weighed the possibilities of ever returning to his old life as a Vampire Hunter, Kazuma realized he needed to master the art of being a vampire first, assuming he even could.

Over the next few weeks, Kazuma devoted himself entirely to training under the tutelage of Barok to improve his vampire abilities. He quickly learned that sustaining oneself on human blood alone was necessary for survival, but certainly not the only solution. He understood that like any other living being, vampires needed a diverse set of nutrients in their diet to remain healthy and energized. Similar to how varied food options are critical for animal survival, this concept applied to vampires too. While human blood was incredibly rich in essential nutrients such as iron, Vitamins A, E, B, folic acid, and carotene, animal blood was equally valuable for its distinct vitamin content, such as the inclusion of Vitamin C, Vitamin D, sodium, potassium, and cholesterol. Kazuma learned how certain human lifestyles contributed to the quality and composition of their blood, and thus, how some human donors could offer more of certain types of nutrients than others. For instance, individuals who remained indoors and didn't exercise regularly would not possess as much cholesterol as the blood of creatures such as owls or fish. Kazuma was also aware of the adverse effects of consuming blood from addicts, specifically nicotine-contaminated blood from smokers. The addiction from human smokers could easily transfer to a vampire if they drank their blood. This was the same case with individuals who drank excessively; if a vampire drank blood from a drunkard, they would experience the effects of intoxication too. The danger of getting addicted to human blood was one of the reasons why many considered vampires to be monstrous creatures. Tragically, Dracula, a historical vampire, had not been aware of the risks when he consumed the blood of Englishmen who smoked pipes. “What about garlic? Crosses?” Kazuma asked. "Raw garlic and many fruits and vegetables are acidic, which can be harmful to us as silver is. Therefore, caution must be exercised. Although silver is commonly found in crosses, our kind can handle crosses made of different materials such as wood, gold, and even rock. Interestingly, many vampires are Christian, debunking the myth that vampires are inherently evil and spawned from the devil. In reality, vampires have coexisted with all forms of life since time immemorial," Barok replied, while he and Kazuma were collecting mushrooms for Ryunosuke in the woods. Kazuma inquired, keen to learn more about their unique weaknesses, "What makes silver and certain acids in fruits and vegetables harmful to us?" "Pure silver can be harmful to our bodies as we are more sensitive to silver nitrate contained within it. When used on living skin, it exhibits healing properties, but on dead skin, it can be fatal." “Is it the same with acidic juices?” “Yes.” Kazuma's eyes traced the constellations above and he couldn't help but marvel at the ethereal beauty of the stars and crescent moon. Bathing in the celestial glow, he was struck by how the moonlight reflected off his vampiric skin, illuminating it with a silver sheen. Overwhelmed by the moment, he gathered his courage and posed the burning question. "Is it impossible for us to survive in sunlight?" "Not impossible, but we burn much quicker than humans do. This is why we are accustomed to being active at night. Our bodies simply cannot handle prolonged exposure to daylight." Barok explained, meeting Kazuma's inquisitive stare. "But if we aren't any different from humans, then why do they persist in hunting our kind?" After plucking some mushrooms, Barok took a momentary pause, looking up at the tree. Then he answered, "Humans fear what they cannot comprehend, and since we feed on them, this fear is natural. It is no different from other creatures in this world. How many animals attack humans out of fear of being attacked themselves? It is instinctive, just like wolves hunt in packs for food and to defend themselves." "Animals are not capable of speaking our language and similarly, we do not understand theirs. Fear is natural, but as humans, we speak the same language. So, hasn't our kind tried to communicate with them?" “.... we have. My brother paid the price for it as did your fa-” Kazuma came to a halt and turned around to see Barok, who had his face covered. Upon closer inspection, Kazuma noticed that Barok's facial expression bore signs of deep misery and melancholy. He approached his master and tenderly placed his hand on Barok's, which was visibly shaking. As Barok gazed at the intertwined hands, he saw the pain in Kazuma's eyes too. Kazuma's voice broke as he spoke softly, "I beg for your forgiveness. It was never my intention to bring back these distressing memories." Barok shook his head, responding with resolute compassion, "Please don't blame yourself. You're yet to retrieve your lost memories and it may take another year." Kazuma observed the fragile hand of Barok held in his own with a deep sense of sadness. He closed his eyes and attempted to remember something, anything from his past. But all was in vain. However, one thing he was certain of was that Barok was about to reveal something important. Kazuma was aware that he belonged to a vampire hunting family and his father was one of the finest vampire hunters. Sadly, his father's attempt to reconcile with the vampire community had tragic consequences, and Kazuma could feel the agony of his father's loss. Barok spoke in a low voice, "I shouldn't have said anything." Kazuma opened his eyes with teardrops streaming down his face. He asked in a trembling voice, "You were going to mention my father, right?" Overwhelmed with emotion, Kazuma broke down, "I've no memory of him, yet the thought of him being lost hurts me." Barok held Kazuma with both his hands affectionately and said, "I understand your pain." He continued, "I feel responsible for not protecting you from this distress." "But, I owe you my life." With a sudden change in tone, Barok exploded, "At what cost!?" Quickly, he composed himself and added apologetically, "Forgive me." Kazuma clung to Barok and asked, "Do you regret saving my life?" Barok vehemently denied, "Never. I only wish I could have done more to spare you this misfortune." He paused and added with hope, "Perhaps, everything will make sense when you regain your memories." Kazuma's heart swelled with warmth as he gazed at the stars and the moon. He felt a strong connection to Barok and never wanted to leave his side. Kazuma longed to uncover the secrets of his life, including the identity of his father and Barok's role in his past. Although he had never felt anything for Barok before, he now felt a strange, comforting warmth. Kazuma imagined being held tenderly, with their lips meeting in a gentle kiss, but he didn't want to risk spoiling the moment. Upon returning to the manor, Kazuma retrieved a bottle of blood that Barok had stored in a wine bottle. Although drinking blood from the bottle didn't satiate his hunger in the same way as consuming it from live creatures or Ryunosuke did, it was a satisfying snack for him. As Ryunosuke yawned, Kazuma noticed that the sky was turning lighter, indicating that sunrise was approaching and it was time for him to sleep. Barok was already in bed, sound asleep. Ryunosuke rubbed his groggy eyes and greeted Kazuma. "Good morning, Kazuma." Kazuma replied, "Morning," taking another sip of the blood. "What did you and Lord van Zieks do last night?" Ryunosuke inquired. "We picked mushrooms and he taught me about how silver, certain fruits, and sunlight affect us," Kazuma answered. Ryunosuke acknowledged it with a soft smile, "That's good." After a moment's pause, Kazuma hesitantly confessed, "I think I may have developed feelings for Lord van Zieks." Curious, Ryunosuke asked, "Oh?" Kazuma was surprised by Ryunosuke's response, "Is... that strange?" Ryunosuke explained, "Not really. You've had feelings for him when you were human as well." Kazuma was bewildered by the revelation, "I... did?" He wondered about his relationship with Barok. "How long have I known Lord van Zieks before becoming a vampire?" Ryunosuke replied, "It's hard to say. Technically, it was only a few months to a year, but you have known about him much longer. Your father and his brother were very close." Kazuma pondered, "So, I developed feelings for him in the few months to a year I've known him." Ryunosuke clarified, "It's more of an attraction than anything. You never called it love." Kazuma probed further, "What did I call it?" Ryunosuke replied hesitantly, "A uh... attraction." Kazuma sensed that Ryunosuke was hiding something, and there was more to his answer than he let on. Kazuma was hesitant, "Should I tell him?" Ryunosuke replied, rubbing the back of his neck, "Ah um... I suppose it wouldn't hurt?" Kazuma's voice trembled slightly, "Would he reject me?" Ryunosuke responded, "Not... really. Lord van Zieks admires you very greatly. However, you... haven't recovered your memories so..." Kazuma interrupted, "So...?" Ryunosuke explained, "He might be under the impression that your feelings for him will vanish the moment your memories recover." Kazuma was confused, "But, you said that I had feelings for him before?" Ryunosuke admitted, "He doesn't know that and... many complicated things happened during the few months to a year we knew each other." Kazuma was curious, "What do you mean?" Ryunosuke fell silent, and a pained expression crossed his face, giving Kazuma the impression that something had happened between him and Barok prior to his transformation. It was as if there was an unspoken pain that hung heavy in the air. "Did... I hurt Lord van Zieks?" Kazuma asked, his voice trembling with fear.

"No, no, don't worry about that," Ryunosuke replied soothingly, trying to calm Kazuma down. "There were a lot of complicated factors involved in trying to solve your father's murder. You should try to get some rest now."

"I feel like you're avoiding the question," Kazuma said, his tone slightly accusatory.

"I'm not trying to avoid it, I just think that once your memories come back, everything will become clear," Ryunosuke said, trying to reassure Kazuma. However, Kazuma could sense some hesitation in Ryunosuke's tone, making him doubt his friend's words. With a sigh of fatigue, he trudged wearily towards his bed, suppressing a shudder at the thought of resting in a coffin, as some myths would suggest. The reality was somewhat more mundane - Kazuma's bedroom was located in the windowless basement of the manor, not a coffin in sight. He slipped beneath the sheets, his eyes growing heavy as he struggled to find sleep. Yet, despite his exhaustion, his mind was far from quiet; it wandered restlessly, plagued by the memories of a life before his transformation into a vampire. Moreover, Ryunosuke's claims about Kazuma's supposed attraction to Lord van Zieks only added to the confusion, leaving him bewildered and unable to make sense of his own emotions.

"Kazuma, are you okay?" Barok's voice jolted Kazuma out of his daze, and he found himself staring up at a worried Barok as he loomed over him, blocking out the sky.

Despite Kazuma's best efforts, he was unable to utter a sound. The agony was simply too great for him to bear. Gasping for air, he forced himself to take shallow breaths, while his heart beat erratically in his chest. Finally, overcome by the pain, he shut his eyes and prayed that he would survive.

Barok gripped Kazuma's limp form tightly, tears streaming down his face. “Don't you dare leave me, Kazuma! Please!” he begged, his voice choked with emotion.

The pain was excruciating - Kazuma tried to speak, but only succeeded in coughing up blood. He tried again, forcing the word past his lips. "B...," he gasped, before collapsing back into Barok's arms.

Kazuma gasped, coughing up blood, and then he felt a pair of cold lips pressed against his own. He couldn't believe what was happening - was Barok actually kissing him? The kiss was so intense that Kazuma felt his breath catch in his throat, his eyes closing involuntarily as his mind was consumed by the sensation of Barok's lips on his own. The kiss was so powerful that Kazuma felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, lost in the sweet oblivion of Barok's embrace.

“Forgive me... and my selfishness.”

Kazuma groaned as he opened his eyes, wincing at the slivers of light peeking through the boarded-up window. It was still daytime, but he was too tired to stay awake for long. As he drifted back to sleep, his mind was consumed by the dream he had just had. Were those memories from his human life, before Barok turned him? And if so, had that kiss actually happened? It had felt so vivid and lifelike...

As Kazuma woke up that night, he noticed Ryunosuke savoring his tea and pudding. Barok had already gotten up much earlier. Kazuma could see that it was dark outside, indicating it was close to Ryunosuke's bedtime. As he looked out the window, he pondered about his past life as a human and what his relationship with Barok might have been like.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Barok asked.

Kazuma looked toward Barok and inquired, "What was my human life like? And how did I factor into your life?"

Barok closed his eyes, being deep in thought. Kazuma felt anxious just seeing that, wondering why Barok would have to think about it before speaking. However, he did eventually speak.

"I suppose that question was going to come sooner or later. We've known each other for quite some time – perhaps some months to a year."

Kazuma revealed that Ryunosuke had relayed the same information to him earlier. When Barok turned to Ryunosuke, he explained,"I only told him that you both knew each other for a while and that you admire him greatly," which Barok acknowledged with a nod.

"How did we come to meet each other, and what led to us developing a close relationship?" Kazuma inquired, as he looked at Barok with interest.

Barok revealed his mixed feelings towards Kazuma's question and showed signs of sorrow. "Rather, I looked up to you, although I understood your hesitation towards forming a close relationship with me. Our paths crossed when you were on the hunt for me, bearing the belief that I was responsible for your father's death at the time. As a vampire hunter, I knew your kind would be suspicious of me, but it was further complicated by my own loss - I believed your father slew my brother."

"If I understand this correctly, you believed my father killed your brother, and I believed you killed my father?"

Barok's voice trembled as he confessed to Kazuma, "He was a vampire hunter and one I thought betrayed me." He closed his eyes, filled with regret for his actions.

Kazuma's question pierced the silence, "You said this happened at the time. Does that mean you never killed my father, my father never killed your brother and my father didn't betray you?"

Barok nodded solemnly and replied, "Correct. It was a foolish mistake on my part. We found the one responsible and then..." He trailed off, the memories still haunting him.

Kazuma's heart sank as he watched Barok's sorrowful expression and probed, "And then...?" Barok revealed the truth with a heavy heart in silence. Kazuma answered, "I fell, right? The vampire hunter that was trying to kill you that night, was it the one that killed my father?"

Barok continued with grief etched on his face, "And, my brother, whilst framing me for all of his crimes. You jumped into action to avenge your father and..."

Kazuma's anger flared with the realization, "Why my father!? I can understand your brother perhaps, but why my father? He was a fellow vampire hunter, right!?"

Barok couldn't give a satisfactory answer, "I don't know. When you questioned him, he simply never answered. I couldn't find answers from him either before your fall."

Kazuma's troubled expression deepened as he asked, "Where is this vampire hunter now?"

Barok replied with uncertainty, "There's no telling. He either assumes you've died or have transformed. It is why Ryunosuke is here at all."

Ryunosuke revealed his role, "I've been keeping guard of the manor whilst you both are asleep. The both of you are much weaker in daylight."

Kazuma's concern for their safety prompted him to inquire, "Have you noticed anyone or anything strange since my transformation?"

Ryunosuke replied with calmness, "Not so far. Though, it's likely that Stronghart could be biting his time or doesn't know where Lord van Zieks lives."

Kazuma learned more about their enemy, "Stronghart. That's his name?" Ryunosuke affirmed with a nod of his head.

Barok pledged to protect Kazuma, "No worries. If he ever comes here, I won't allow him to hurt you again."

Kazuma showcased his determination, "Teach me how to fight. Surely, there must be some part of me that still knows how. I wish to get stronger."

Barok reassured Kazuma, "I'm certain your skills in combat are just as impressive as before. Being stripped of your past memories from your transformation doesn't strip any skills you obtained whilst human. Regardless, I would love to pare swords with you."

Grateful, Kazuma bowed to Barok and expressed his gratitude, "Thank you!"

Kazuma honed his sword skills while adapting to his new life as a vampire. Despite the inherent difficulty, dueling with Barok was entertaining and pushed him to his limits. They utilized silver swords during their sparring sessions, which taught Kazuma how to wield them effectively as a vampire. Throughout his training, he rediscovered lost skills and uncovered his innate talent as a Vampire Hunter.

Barok lauded Kazuma's progress and said, "Impressive, Kazuma," which made him feel proud of himself.

After sheathing his sword, Kazuma inquired, "What kind of hunter was I? Aside from Ryunosuke, did I work with anyone?"

Barok revealed, "You once worked under Stronghart's apprentice, until we saw through the lies. He was a friend of your father's-- or at least, we thought he was."

Kazuma commented, "He sounds like a piece of work."

Barok hummed as Kazuma gazed up at the full moon, prompting him to question, “are werewolves and witches also real?”

“Funny you should ask of such,” Barok replied, amused.

Kazuma persisted, “Are they?”

Barok speculated, “I suppose it's possible, though I've never met one.”

Despite his condition, Kazuma smiled at the full moon and remarked, “I doubt I'd ever see a moon this beautiful if I was a werewolf.”

Barok mused, “That may depend on how you would define a werewolf. It's much like claiming vampires can never see the sunlight. Don't you think?”

Kazuma agreed, before confessing, “Would it offend you if I told you that I have feelings for you?” He moved closer to Barok, holding his arm.

Barok turned to Kazuma, who appeared fearful and shy, almost blushing like a human if it were possible. He smiled and reassured him, "Of course not." Barok embraced Kazuma, who hugged him back tightly. However, Barok suggested they wait until Kazuma regained all his human memories.

Kazuma revealed, "Ryunosuke said I had feelings for you even then," cutting Barok's interjection. Barok closed his eyes and seemed to frown slightly. Kazuma asked, "Sir?"

Barok apologized, "Forgive me for being lost in thought."

Curious, Kazuma inquired, "What were you thinking about?"

Barok hesitated but eventually divulged, "The last moment before changing you into this."

Kazuma's mind wandered back to his dream, where he had gazed at the dismal sky, rain pouring down on him, as he writhed in agony. The one thing that shone through all of that pain was the arrival of Barok who had come to his rescue and bestowed a gentle kiss upon his lips. But Kazuma was hesitant to ask whether the enchanted dream held any truth. He imagined how torturous it must have been for Barok, who, if Kazuma's feelings were reciprocated, would have suffered terribly and experienced intense fear. The mere thought of being in Barok's place filled Kazuma with dread.

Kazuma tenderly caressed Barok's face, his lips meeting his. The kiss was mutual, and Barok's hand roamed through Kazuma's silky hair before their lips parted. His fingers brushed over Kazuma's jawline, and he held his chin delicately. Kazuma yearned for another kiss, the desperation evident in his expression, but Barok shook his head.

Barok whispered, "I won't take advantage of you until you've regained all your memories, I love you too much to do that." His confession slipped out without realization as his eyes widened in surprise.

Kazuma asked, "How long have you loved me?"

Barok confessed, "For a while," holding Kazuma gently to his chest, who snuggled up as if he was lying on a comfortable pillow. He never wanted to leave this embrace.

As Kazuma slept, he pondered over Barok's words, "I won't take advantage of you until you've regained all your memories, I love you too much to do that." Although touched, he felt disheartened knowing he couldn't be with Barok at the moment. He placed his hand over his mouth, reminiscing the tingling sensation from their kiss, and cried himself to sleep before sinking into a peaceful slumber.

Gasping for breath, he felt a familiar pain on his neck as he clung onto the back of Barok's cloak. The realization dawned upon him that Barok was feeding on him in a way he knew too well. He wondered why he was the one chosen for this, and questioned if this was when he was transformed. But, he knew it wasn't possible since he was close to death at that time. As he struggled to breathe, he wondered if this was a memory he couldn't recall.

After Barok withdrew his fangs from Kazuma's neck, he licked the two small wounds and cleaned up the remaining blood that had dribbled around his neck.

"Have you had your fill, Barok?" Kazuma inquired kindly.

Barok nodded with gratitude. "Yes, thank you."

"Don't make it a habit of getting into trouble just to be fed," Kazuma warned. "Remember, our mission is to make Stronghart pay for everything."

Barok exhaled a heavy sigh and mused aloud. "You're still as stubborn as ever, Kazuma."

"To know one is to be one," Kazuma retorted with a smirk. He reached for a basket of fresh fruit on the table and gladly took a bite.

"But have you considered the danger you're putting yourself in by joining us against Stronghart? He won't hesitate to take your life," Barok warned, his tone growing gravely serious.

Kazuma shrugged indifferently. "So what? I'm not one to back down from a challenge. Besides, I know I can handle him."

"Don't be too sure," Barok cautioned. "Stronghart is much stronger than you think. Underestimating him could cost you your life."

"Of course, I'll train as hard as ever. You and Ryunouske will see my progress," Kazuma declared with determination.

Barok frowned and asked, "But what if you get hurt? Have you considered the consequences?"

Kazuma scoffed at the idea. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make that bastard pay. Nothing will stand in my way."

Barok turned his face away and Kazuma took notice. He probed, "Is everything alright? You seem uneasy."

Barok turned away in embarrassment and admitted softly, "I'm afraid of losing you, Kazuma."

Kazuma softened and assured him, "Don't worry, Barok. If anything happens, I'll leave it to you."

Barok turned his head to Kazuma's sudden outburst, prompting him to explain. "We both have suffered from losing someone dear to us because of Stronghart. I know you're just as determined to take him down as I am. If anything happens to me, I trust you to make sure he pays."

Barok responded with a hint of skepticism, "Such confidence you have in me."

Kazuma's resolve intensified as he banged his fist on the table, holding a banana in his hand. "I'm serious, Barok. If Stronghart ever managed to control me with his venom, I beg you to make sure I am not turned into his pawn. I would rather die than be used by him!"

Kazuma expressed his concern to Barok, "I don't want to become a puppet to Stronghart's venom. Can you promise to prevent that from happening?"

Barok hesitated before responding, "I promise to make sure you're not under his control."

Once more, Kazuma found himself sprawled across the muddy ground, raindrops pounding against his battered body. His aching neck sent shockwaves of agony pulsing through every fiber of his being. Struggling to grasp his surroundings, he found himself lost in a blur of confusion. Who was Stronghart? What did he look like? How had he found Kazuma, vulnerable and defenseless, lying on the cold, unforgiving earth?

But his train of thought shattered with a deafening crack when Kazuma was suddenly pinned against a rough-hewn boulder. Agonizingly, he felt his bones snap and shatter, screams of harsh, guttural pain tearing from his raw throat. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kazuma struggled to get a visual of this merciless assailant. Was he staring into the abyss of Stronghart's ruthless eyes? Through the mist of excruciating pain and flashing redness assaulting his vision, Kazuma could only see a black, faceless shadow looming over him. His world turned to utter darkness as bone after bone was relentlessly shattered until, finally, he could no longer move. In a last burst of clarity, Kazuma pleads for the pain to go away. A distant chorus of voices lifted in the rain, echoing through his pain-addled mind.

“Kazuma!” Ryunosuke's voice pierced through the chaos.

“Don't you dare...” Barok's threats rang out, sending shivers down Kazuma's spine.

And then, amidst the tumultuous noise, Kazuma heard the sickening sound of flesh being rent apart by vampiric fangs. He knew, with a sense of mounting horror, that it was Stronghart who was attacking him. Unlike Barok's previous assault, he was aiming for a different location - the artery. Panic building in him with each passing moment, Kazuma could feel the last vestiges of his strength slipping away. It was a race against time to survive this onslaught.

“Barok!” Kazuma's anguished scream split the air as he felt the noxious venom of the vampire coursing through his veins. Tears streamed down his face as despair consumed him. This couldn't be happening, he thought frantically. He was on the verge of being transformed into Stronghart's loyal minion.

In a sudden movement, Stronghart lost his hold on Kazuma's body. In that fleeting moment, Kazuma caught sight of Barok, his eyes blazing with anger. However, before he could process the situation, he found himself tumbling towards the edge of a cliff. The ground below rushed up to meet him, and he was swallowed by darkness as he lost consciousness. Through the haze of the venom coursing through his veins, Kazuma fought to remain steadfast in his resolve. He couldn't allow himself to be turned into Stronghart's slave. He had to find a way to resist the transformation.

Kazuma remembered the night when Barok had kissed him.

“Forgive me... and my selfishness," Barok apologized before biting Kazuma in the same spot as Lord Stronghart, causing a new wave of venom to replace the old. Meanwhile, Kazuma's thoughts are clouded as he reflects on the situation.

'I trust and love Lord van Zieks. I wouldn't mind being under him.'

Kazuma didn't have to fight since he only had to wait for the venom to take effect. Despite the pain growing more severe and starting to affect his heart, he didn't care because he was willing to serve someone he believed in.

"I feel responsible for not protecting you from this distress."

"Do you regret saving my life?"

"Never. I only wish I could have done more to spare you this misfortune."

Kazuma woke up in tears, still emotional from the events that occurred. Barok had not only saved him from certain death but also from being turned into a vampire under Stronghart's control. Kazuma realized how dangerous the situation was and how risky Barok's actions were. Drinking the venom from Stronghart and replacing it with his own was no easy feat. A human would have died quickly if the blood was taken from an artery. There was a possibility that Barok could have killed him.

Barok knocked softly before entering the room and approaching Kazuma's bed. Without a word, he held Kazuma tightly, comforting him as he wept uncontrollably. The tears streamed down Kazuma's face, but Barok held him with utmost care and tenderness, as if he were holding something incredibly precious and fragile.

"I recalled the day you saved me," Kazuma confessed hoarsely.

"Your memories appear to be coming back, Kazuma," Barok said softly, gently holding his face. "It might be quite a lot to take in."

"It's not selfish of you to want to save my life," Kazuma said, his voice raw from sobbing.

"Selfish?" Barok looked confused.

"You wanted me to forgive you for being selfish for changing me," Kazuma explained.

"It wasn't that. I was selfish because I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, no matter what," Barok said, his voice full of emotion.

"Why?" Kazuma asked.

"You know why." Barok leaned in and kissed Kazuma deeply, his love for him evident in the passionate embrace.

"When I first met you, your only priority was avenging your father. But after that, something beautiful blossomed between us," Barok whispered, his breath warm on Kazuma's cheek and neck. "Despite being a vampire hunter, you always made sure to take care of me. It had been so long since I had felt someone genuinely care for me like that. And on top of it all, you were Lord Asogi's son - so strong and pure."

With Barok's lips near his ear, Kazuma confessed, "I felt so strongly about you when you drank from me." He grasped onto Barok's gown and rested his head on Barok's shoulder.

Barok asked, "Is that so?"

Kazuma hummed in response and questioned, "Will you make me wait before I can have you?"

Barok turned Kazuma's head to face him. Their eyes locked as their lips nearly touched. "I love you. I always have. Even though I may not remember all of our memories together, I know that I have and always will love you..want you," Kazuma confessed in a whisper and brushed his lips against Barok's with an ardent look in his eyes.

Their lips met in a passionate embrace, each kiss feeling as deep as the last, if not deeper. Barok's body quivered as Kazuma's lips locked onto his - he could never resist him, no matter what. The desire he had for Kazuma had been building up inside him for an indefinite amount of time, like an ache that just wouldn't go away. Before either of them realized it, they were lost in a passionate make-out session on the bed. Their limbs intertwined, hands grazing each other as they gave into their lustful desires with frenzied open-mouthed kisses.

Barok was breathless as he lay atop Kazuma, his hands moving in circles around his exquisite face as their foreheads touched. Kazuma smiled dreamily, tempting Barok to claim him as his own. With such a handsome face and captivating lips, it was easy to succumb to his allure. Even after all this time, Kazuma still remained as breathtakingly beautiful as ever.

"You have much to learn," Barok stated, as he planted a gentle kiss on Kazuma's lips. "There's still so much you need to remember about us."

Kazuma replied, "I hope to convince you to take me."

Barok considered it for a moment, and responded, "We'll see."

After Kazuma had calmed down, he resumed his training with Barok that same night. They would typically hunt in the forests outside London, which allowed them more freedom to hunt since there were fewer restrictions on their actions. Kazuma was advised by Barok to wear a cloak and mask during these excursions to avoid attracting Vampire Hunters.

Thankfully, Barok kept a close watch on Kazuma even from a distance, which allowed Kazuma to camouflage himself behind the leaves and trees during their hunting expeditions. Kazuma successfully spotted his prey from a distance- a lone deer with strong antlers. Kazuma then stealthily approached the deer, climbed a nearby tree, and landed on the deer's back, biting onto its neck. The deer ran at first, but eventually slowed down and rested.

Kazuma savored his dinner- the sweet taste of deer blood. He had only wanted something light and juicy, not the strong taste of human blood. As he drank from the deer, he petted it to keep it calm. The animal eventually relaxed to the point of lying down to rest. Once Kazuma finished his meal, he licked the wound shut and then kissed the deer on the head while petting it lovingly.

After finishing his meal, Kazuma heard a sound deep within the forest that wasn't coming from Barok. Using his heightened senses, he detected that the noise was coming from a far-off location where humans were present. Kazuma hid behind the deer and climbed up a nearby tree to remain concealed from the human's view. Only two humans were present, who appeared to be Vampire Hunters. Kazuma remembered Barok's advice of never trusting a Vampire Hunter without knowing them personally, so he remained hidden.

A young woman was the first to appear and noticed the deer. She had long blonde hair tied in a braid - pinned around her head and was wearing green slacks, a tailed coat, and a matching cap. The woman approached and inspected the deer, gently touching the animal.

"We's got one 'ere, and this buck's feelin' warm, innit?" the girl asked the fellow behind her, donned in a brown trenchcoat, his mustache twitching. From the looks of it, he was munching on some newspaper-wrapped fish and chips.

"Is it alive?" the man asked in return. 

"'E's alive, right. Vampire's probably lurkin' 'round 'ere. I know I saw 'im."

"The vampire is probably just hunting for food. We don't know what we're dealing with, so stay alert," the man cautioned. Kazuma remained hidden behind the tree, searching for Barok, but couldn't find him. "Let's look for the devils. Don't let them drink from you."

"You got it, Boss!" the girl responded, giving her boss a salute before trotting horizontally out of Kazuma's sight.

Kazuma continued climbing the tree while the two Vampire Hunters searched around for him and Barok. Kazuma couldn't see Barok. He realized that it was because Barok was skilled at hiding. He wasn't confident that Barok was watching over his location. All Kazuma knew was that he had to avoid being seen by the Vampire Hunters.

"I'm gonna 'ave a butcher's at this side," the girl said, turning to the right as her boss glanced over at her.

"Oi, Gina, don't go gettin' yourself lost now. These vampires ain't to be messed with," warned the boss with a stern tone. Gina, however, seemed to shrug it off with a semi-careless attitude.

Gina's instincts led her closer to Kazuma's hiding spot. She appeared to be aimlessly wandering, but managed to get closer and eventually ended up under the tree where Kazuma was hiding.

"Let's 'ave a butcher's. The boss said these bleeders 'ide themselves in the trees," muttered Gina. She rubbed her chin and searched upwards with her lamp, hoping to catch a glimpse of any lurking vampires in the shadows of the branches.

With his cloak and mask on, Kazuma's hiding spot was revealed when the light from Gina's lamp shone on him. In a panicked response, Kazuma attacked Gina, covering her mouth and pinning her to a tree so she couldn't call for help. In the process, Gina dropped her lamp, which Kazuma caught as the light faded out. A struggle ensued, and Gina managed to kick Kazuma in the chest, causing him to fall backwards and lose his hood, revealing his hair.

"Oh, cor blimey," gasped Gina as Kazuma rose to his feet, causing her to back away in fear. She fumbled for her gun, loaded with silver bullets. "Easy now, you bloke! I'm warnin' ya," she said, her eyes widening in shock. "Kaz's a goner. There's no way you're 'im."

“Do you mean Kazuma?” Kazuma inquired, unsure if it could be true. He slowly removed his mask as the girl's hands trembled in anticipation.

"Shut it," Gina cried, her eyes brimming with tears. "It can't be true, it just can't," she wailed. Suddenly she scrunched her eyes tight. "This 'as to be one o' them vampire tricks!"

A strange feeling crept into Kazuma's throat, making him realize that he must have held an important place in this girl's life. "I've recently been transformed, and I'm afraid I don't remember you," he admitted. "My master told me it could take a year before it comes back to me. Have we met before?"

Hearing Kazuma's confession, Gina bowed her head and lowered her weapon. "Blimey, Kaz. Why'd you let it come to this? You know I wouldn't have... " she cursed. She covered her face, tears streaming down her cheeks as she let her gun drop to the grass. "Just get on with it."

"I'm alright," Kazuma replied, gesturing towards the deer. "That should keep him fed when he wakes up."

Gina hesitantly removed her hand from her eyes, shooting him a look of disbelief before glancing down at the ground. It was clear she was struggling with something. After a brief pause, she let out a heavy sigh and finally posed the question, "Alright, mate. Who's your Master?"

“Barok van Zieks.” "'Ere, the Reaper? And, you ain't gonna drink from me?" "I already ate. I'm just on the lookout for my master. I can't seem to locate him after drinking from the buck," Kazuma explained. Gina furrowed her brow and crossed her arms, appearing deep in thought. Breaking the silence, she asked inquisitively, "Wot 'appened? 'Ow did ya...?" "During the fight, Stronghart tried to change me. It was almost successful until my master drank his venom and inserted his own. He saved my life and now I owe him everything," explained Kazuma solemnly. "Cor blimey, Stronghart!? Ain't he the leader of the Vampire Hunters?" “That's correct! He's also a Vampire Hunter,” Kazuma realized, feeling foolish for not catching the inconsistency. “Does that imply that a vampire is heading the group of Vampire Hunters, either to eliminate other vampires or maintain control over them?” “Kaz... that...” Gina heard her boss call out to her from a distance. "Gina!" Gina gave Kazuma a steely look and said, "Oi, you sure you ain't spinning me a yarn? This ain't a load of codswallop, yeah?" “That's all I remember and... As a fellow Vampire Hunter, you must know that newly turned vampires don't remember their human memories for the first year," Kazuma reminded Gina, who was lost in thought as she rubbed her chin. "Yer reckon you're gonna be gettin' peckish again, do ya?" Gina inquired. "I'll be needing human blood soon, possibly by morning. Are you offering to provide some?" Gina's grip on the strap of her bag tightened as she confessed, "I need to know if everything I was told is a bleedin' lie. Suz said you were as good as brown bread. That's wot Lord Stronghart fed us." “Gina, where in blazes are you!?” Gina's boss sounded worried when he called out. “Meet me at the cliff where the Reaper calls-o'da shots," Gina urged, grabbing her lamp and scurrying to her boss. "I'm right 'ere, but it's like you're killing me with all this chatter!" "What were you doing? Your lamp isn't on." “Obviously. I was tryin' to switch it back on when you interrupted me with your call." "Okay, as long as you're fine. I apologize for being so concerned. I thought another Hunter went missing under my watch," Gina's Boss said in relief. "Yer right," Gina muttered, her eyes flickering with conflict. Her boss must've been pondering about Kazuma. "Those Vampire Hunters reckon Kazuma's flown the coop, eh?" She continued, "But anyhow, I didn't lay me eyes on no vampires." "I agree. They must have run away. We should head back home. Staying here won't change anything, especially since the deer is still alive.” “Yes, boss!” Gina and her boss vanished from the dense forest, breathing a sigh of relief. Meanwhile, Kazuma leaned back against a tree, feeling the ominous presence of Barok as he rested his forehead against the rough bark. “Where were you, Barok?” Kazuma inquired. “I was hiding and watching over you. Although I had considered intervening, it appeared that your friend was hesitant to harm you. She's a truly good friend,” Barok replied. “I believe so too. She brought up a name - Suz?” “Susato Mikotoba. It's probable that she assumes you and Ryunosuke are deceased.” “Stronghart is both a Vampire Hunter and a vampire. How is that possible?” Kazuma asked in amazement. “Similar to how you evolved from a Hunter to something more, he intentionally transformed himself to eliminate the vampires he despises. His abhorrence towards them has never waned since his transition.” Barok elucidated. “Gina wishes to meet me at that cliff to give me her blood.” “She's likely confused. The Vampire Hunters have fed her false information, which contradicts what she's seen. You didn't act on hunger or thirst. You merely took what you needed and spared the deer. It's possible that you shared with her some insights about your father's truths before disappearing.” Kazuma understood that Gina was torn between what she had been taught and what she had seen. He planned to meet with her at dawn near the cliff, where he had previously battled Stronghart and had almost become his victim. However, he was concerned that Gina might bring her superiors or even Stronghart himself. Nonetheless, Kazuma trusted Gina, as she didn't seem to have any intentions of betraying him based on her behaviour. Kazuma kept his promise and waited near the cliff the next morning, feeling the urge to feed on human blood. Gina arrived with her bag, holding onto it tightly. Kazuma had removed his hood but kept his cloak on, not wearing his mask this time. Gina appeared apprehensive, as if expecting a difficult encounter. "I ain't lettin' ya turn me into no bleedin' vampire, ya got that?" Gina half-threatened, trying to hide her nerves at the thought of being turned into vampire chow. Kazuma provided an explanation, "If I were to do that, I wouldn't get as much blood." "Don't blabber 'bout 'ow it works! Just do it!" Gina bellowed, making a sour face. “Alright. Initially, it may hurt, but Ryunosuke mentioned that eventually it will numb.” "'Oddo is alive... blimey, just do it!" With a soft chuckle, Kazuma gently massaged Gina's shoulders, easing her into a state of relaxation. Skilled and patient, he honed his senses until he found the perfect vein, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck. Gina's face contorted in pain at first, but slowly her muscles began to unknot beneath his touch. Kazuma listened carefully to the soft sound of her deep breathing as she fought to relax, feeling the unique texture and sweetness of Gina's blood as it flowed into him. Compared to Ryunosuke, her blood was thinner, with a delicate and interesting flavor like nothing he had ever tasted before. As Kazuma drank from Gina's pulsing vein, he experienced a wave of recognition flood through him. Memories of their time spent together training as Vampire Hunters in London came rushing back to him, along with her rebellious spirit and fierce loyalty to her friends. Despite their current circumstances, Kazuma knew that her heart was pure and her intentions kind. It was no surprise that she had initially hesitated to harm him upon discovering his transformation. They were comrades-in-arms and good friends, and Kazuma could feel that bond as he drank from her. Satiated, Kazuma withdrew his fangs, ensuring that he had closed the wounds before gently licking away any remaining traces of Gina's blood. As Kazuma stepped back and broke contact, Gina blinked in surprise and instinctively reached to the tender spot on her neck where the feeding had occurred. "Yer ain't like any o' them bloodsuckers. Vampires go on a rampage without askin' questions and suck their victims dry," Gina declared with a scowl. "Maybe they were preying on addicts," Kazuma pondered. "Lord van Zieks mentioned that vampires who feed on smokers or alcoholics may exhibit signs of gluttony." "The whole lot of them we've met have been just like that!" “Not Lord van Zieks. Ryunosuke says we've been working together with him for quite a while, did I ever mention that to you?" Gina went into a bit of a ponder and said, "Yeh, you was tellin' me that if Lord Stronghart was the one who snuffed yer old man, then the other bloodsuckers gotta 'ave a boss that ain't the Reaper." "If Lord Stronghart is indeed a vampire, then he's most likely the one responsible for creating these other vampires," Kazuma mused. "I wonder if Masters have power over the vampires they turn and control them." Barok, who emerged from the woods, chimed in to answer. "Yes, they certainly can," he replied. “Blimey! Y-You're...!” Gina exclaimed with a hint of shock, taking a few steps back in surprise. "I've never done that before - never made anyone my master," Barok confessed, catching himself before he revealed the true depth of his emotions. He chose his words carefully. "But with Kazuma, it was different. I had to keep my promise to him... to prevent Stronghart from becoming his master." “So, Stronghart 'ad a go at convertin' 'im, didn't 'e?" “He did and I owe my life to Lord van Zieks. He was the one who saved me," Kazuma exclaimed gratefully. "Right, it's time we gave the boss the news!" proclaimed Gina. "Unfortunately, Gregson is in a very risky situation with Stronghart. Any sign of disobedience and Stronghart may hurt him just like he attempted to hurt Kazuma," Barok explained to Kazuma as he touched the bite mark where he had transformed Kazuma. "In fact, Stronghart could even be using you as leverage against Gregson," he added gravely. “M-Me?” Gina exclaimed, taking a step back in fear. “You weren't claimed by any vampire before, but now that Kazuma has bitten and claimed you, you're under his protection. Stronghart won't interfere, but he'll know who claims you,” explained Barok. Kazuma had an epiphany. “So, Stronghart will know that I'm keeping Gina alive?” The other vampire nodded. “Yes, but he never thought you were able to save her. You're lucky she survived with the lowest chance of survival.” “I'm ready to face Stronghart, if need be,” declared Kazuma. “Same. Now that I know the whole bleedin' truth, that bloke's gonna pay, mark my words!" declared Gina, her determination unwavering. Barok shook his head, “No, Kazuma. You can't face Stronghart again. Last time, you were almost killed. You're not ready yet.” “We don't have to face him directly,” Kazuma replied calmly. “We can use the element of surprise. As of now, Stronghart doesn't know that Gina is alive or that she has been claimed by me. Maybe we can use that to our advantage.” "'Ere, 'ang on a tick, 'ow d'ya reckon ya gonna turn that to yer advantage?" inquired Gina, crossing her arms skeptically. "Where does Gregson think you are right now?" Kazuma inquired. "Pfft, I dunno. I just snuck out while 'e was kipin'!" "What if you went missing that night and couldn't be found?"

Kazuma suggested. "Gregson would probably organize a search party and assume you went on a vampire hunt to find the one that made a meal out of that deer." “Meanin', 'e'll be scourin' around that there forest where the deer was spotterd, eh?" “Forgive my discourtesy of my impatience, but could you please explain how that relates to your plan to defeat Stronghart?" "Oi reckon wot Kaz means is, if I went missin' and they're thinkin' I went missin' in that forest where the bleedin' deer were spotted, the boss would send out a search party round there, wouldn't 'e? And if I ain't back in a jiffy, Stronghart would get in on the nitty-gritty, you know what I'm sayin'?" “Exactly! With Gina held captive by a vampire, Stronghart will assume that the captor is..." Kazuma concluded, his eyes turning to Barok. "Me,” Barok said, the realization hitting him. “Don't forget that Stronghart has no idea I'm involved,” Kazuma added, as Barok raised an eyebrow. Gina smirked and poked out her index finger, "Or that you didn't do a bleedin' thing to me," she teased. Barok continued, “If I'm understanding this correctly, our plan is to use Gina's disappearance to lure Stronghart here during the daylight hours. He'll be caught off guard by an attack from two Vampire Hunters, especially if he thinks one of them is already dead.” “Right, and if Stronghart needs Gina as leverage against Gregson, he'll have to search for her no matter the time of day,” Kazuma added. Barok nodded in agreement, then closed his eyes and said, “It's getting close to sunrise. We should rest now if we're going to follow through with this plan.” Kazuma noticed Barok's hesitance and trepidation, the shadows of doubt looming in the depths of his eyes. This was their only opportunity to vanquish Stronghart, once and for all - a moment they had long awaited. Yet, despite this, fear seemed to grip Barok in a tight embrace, his concern for Kazuma's safety taking precedence over everything else. The memory of that fateful night lingered still, haunting him with a terrible fear that he could not shake. The young vampire could sense his master's anxiety, the weight of his worry almost tangible in the air around them. Kazuma couldn't help but imagine himself in Barok's shoes, the thought sending a chill down his spine. He longed to comfort his mentor in some way, to assuage his concerns and calm his nerves. Gina accompanied the two vampires to Barok's manor after an exhausting Vampire Hunt and a late night. Finding respite in one of the guest rooms, she fell into a deep slumber. Meanwhile, Kazuma retreated to his own room to devise a plan for defeating Stronghart. Despite his incomplete memories, he refused to let that setback impede his mission, determined to see it through to the end. Kazuma heard a knock early in the morning, feeling instantly exhausted. It was Ryunosuke at the door, his panicked expression sending chills down Kazuma's spine. "Vampire Hunters are approaching," he cried breathlessly. Kazuma groaned wearily, feeling the weight of the impending danger. "Are you sure?" he asked, hoping against hope that it was a false alarm. "Oi, get yer arse outta bed and get a move on!" Gina exclaimed. Kazuma groaned but rose from his bed, shuffling down the hallway towards her.

Barok hurriedly took Kazuma by the wrist and led him down the hall to a hidden entrance in the manor. The entrance was located at the back of the fireplace and required crawling on hands and knees to get inside. Barok pushed the door open and crawled inside, with Kazuma following close behind. The entrance was secured with a small key, ensuring their safety. The tunnel beyond was pitch black, but with vampires being nocturnal, they were in no danger.

“It seems your plan to lure Stronghart to attacking during the daylight worked too perfectly,” Barok said.

“Is he the one that's on his way here?” Kazuma asked.

“Who else? From Ryunosuke's description of the Hunters, I have no doubt Stronghart is among them.”

“It's not too late, though. We still have a chance to follow through to our plan.”

“Have you forgotten that the sun is just as much our weakness?”

“No. We just have to be flexible with what we have right now,” Kazuma insisted. 

Using his heightened senses, Kazuma detected Gina's presence within the manor, preparing for a potential attack. Meanwhile, suspicious intruders were approaching the building - presumably Stronghart's doing. Despite the advantage the opposing vampire had of hiding under the shade of numerous trees, Kazuma was determined to outsmart him. Armed with a silver sword and with the support of Ryunosuke and Gina, who could attack from sunlit areas, Kazuma had a plan to face Stronghart.

That was when Kazuma remembered the garden. Of course! They could lure Stronghart to the garden area. This would be a risk, but this was their only chance to defeating him.

Kazuma suggested, "Why don't we use the garden?"

Barok called out, "Kazuma!" as he chased after him down the tunnel. Kazuma took a sharp turn before eventually climbing up a ladder, with Barok in hot pursuit. "Kazuma, what's your plan? What do you plan on doing in the garden?"

Kazuma replied, "We can lure Stronghart into the garden and take him out there."

Kazuma reached the top of the ladder and slid a small part of the wall open using a small hole. He climbed inside and found himself behind a cupboard, where he squeezed his way through to the food pantry. Retrieving his cloak from atop the cupboard, Kazuma secured it around himself in case he needed protection from the sunlight. Suddenly, Barok emerged from behind the cupboard and firmly took hold of Kazuma's wrist.

Barok expressed his concern, "This is too dangerous! Stronghart almost killed you the last time and he's hunting us down now! You haven't even trained for half a year and you think you can take on the person who transformed you into this?" 

Kazuma retorted, "We don't have any other options! We can't let Ryunosuke and Gina face him alone!" 

"At least Ryunosuke and Gina aren't us! They might be taken as prisoners in the Hunters Camp, but those Hunters will kill US!"

Kazuma protested, "What if Stronghart tries to convert Ryunosuke or Gina?" 

Barok argued, "Not in front of others!" 

Kazuma countered, "But he'll have plenty of time once he takes them! We can't abandon our friends!" 

Barok got agitated, "I won't let you risk your life again!" He clenched Kazuma's wrist tightly, snarling.

Barok's demeanor was akin to that of a vampire, exhibiting forceful aggression and speaking with a venomous tone. However, beneath the surface, Kazuma recognized an underlying fear, stemming from Barok's past trauma of nearly losing him to Stronghart. Barok was unable to bear the thought of losing Kazuma again, or being so close to experiencing that pain once more.

Despite Barok's attempts to obstruct him, Kazuma refused to be deterred. He glared at Barok and confronted him, "You're a coward for hiding me. How much longer do you plan to do so?"

Barok was initially shocked at Kazuma's sudden aggression. However, Kazuma broke free from Barok's grip, sensing the presence of Vampire Hunters in the manor. Kazuma swiftly armed himself with a wok from the cabinet, just as a hunter entered the kitchen and raised his silver hammer. Kazuma used the wok to shield himself from the attack before delivering a swift kick to the hunter's legs, causing him to trip.

The hunter found himself on his back, catching a glimpse of Kazuma's face. With a tremble in his voice, he cried out, "Kazuma!?"

"Who are you!?" Kazuma shouted back, gripping onto the wok.

"Don't you recognize your mentor, Jig-?" gasped the hunter, realizing it was Kazuma's old teacher. But before he could finish, Kazuma slammed him with the wok. Observing the silver hammer at his feet, Kazuma picked it up, relieved that the handle wasn't silver.

Confused, Barok tried to clarify, "That was Jigoku, the apprentice of Stronghart. He's the one who brought you to London."

Kazuma glanced down at the man and detected a peculiar smell emanating from him. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a bite mark on his skin, which he identified as Stronghart's.

Kazuma had a sudden realization. "He's one of Stronghart's blood donors."

Jigoku's words hit Kazuma like a ton of bricks. "Why are you with him, Kazuma!? He killed your father!" Kazuma realized Jigoku had been in the dark all along. He had no idea that Stronghart had attempted to kill Kazuma and turn him into a vampire. “Listen, I don't know what that Reaper told you but-”

Kazuma took Jigoku firmly in a chokehold, his voice low and dangerous as he spoke. "Let me answer your first question with one of my own: which do you prefer - the artery or the vein?" Jigoku's pupils shrank in fear, and his body trembled under Kazuma's grip.

“Y-You-You're...”

"Well?" Kazuma growled, his teeth dangerously close to Jigoku's neck. "If you're just trying to stall, I could always answer your question for you."

"Get away from me, you beast!" Jigoku yelled, pushing Kazuma off him. Kazuma licked his lips, anger flashing in his eyes. Jigoku reached for his hammer, but Kazuma struck him with a wok before he could grab it. Jigoku fell and saw his hammer within reach. But before he could grab it, he felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck, causing him to scream in agony.

The sound of footsteps caught Jigoku's attention. He turned his head and saw a muscular man brandishing a silver cane. "What's happening here?" he demanded, his eyes landing on Kazuma, who had sunk his teeth into Jigoku's neck.

"Stronghart!" Barok growled, baring his teeth.

"If you're smart, you'll tell your student to let go of my apprentice," Stronghart retorted, his gaze icy.

Barok's eyes flicked to Kazuma, who had his teeth sunk into Jigoku's neck. "Kazuma," he said, and Kazuma released his grip.

Suddenly, Kazuma struck Stronghart with a silver hammer on the side of his head. The blow left Stronghart seething in pain and covering his face. Before he could react, Kazuma hurled Jigoku at him and spat in his direction.

“Too thick for my taste,” Kazuma sneered as Stronghart rose to his feet, shoving his injured apprentice aside. 

"You still haven't learned, have you? You're no match for me," Stronghart taunted with a sickly grin, launching an attack at Kazuma. Kazuma barely managed to dodge in time, thanks to Barok's intervention.

Barok pulled Kazuma by the wrist, making them run out of the dining room and into the entrance where the staircase was. Kazuma made a turn toward the door in the back where the garden is. Unfortunately, Stronghart was faster than Kazuma and began striking him with his silver cane. Kazuma felt the pain from the silver from the back of his head before being dragged by his foot, then thrown against the glass door, breaking it in the process. The sun burned through Kazuma's exposed skin. The glass didn't help. Blood was seeping from the cuts from the glass.

"You're a fool. You will die under the hot sun," sneered Stronghart, pulling out his bow and aiming his silver-tipped arrow at Kazuma, who was too injured to move out of harm's way. But just as he was about to release the arrow, a shot rang out, hitting the spot where his heart was. Kazuma flinched and braced himself for the impact of Stronghart's arrow, but it never came.

Stronghart let out a piercing scream when a silver arrow hit him squarely in his heart. He turned around and saw Ryunosuke standing in the sunlight with another silver arrow in hand. In one swift motion, Ryunosuke took aim and fired another arrow at Stronghart.

"Ahh!" Stronghart screamed as he collapsed on the ground, writhing in pain with blood pooling around him. Suddenly, he felt himself being dragged into the sunlight of the garden by Gina.

"Let's 'ave a butchers at who's croakin' in the daylight, ya bloody vampire!" Gina smiled wide.

“Lord van Zieks!” Kazuma cried, his eyes fixed on Barok, who bravely shielded him from Stronghart's silver arrowhead. The arrow pierced him around his waist, causing Barok to grimace in pain.

“Geh,” Barok groaned, trying to remove the arrow. He let out a mighty cry before he finally pulled it out. Gasping for breath, he found solace from the scorching sun inside the manor. Kazuma trudged to his side, visibly shaken by what just happened.

“Barok, if you die...” Kazuma's voice trailed off as he threatened.

“I won't die from just a flesh wound. I'd rather suffer this minor wound than lose the love of my life,” Barok smiled faintly through his pain.

“Don't lie to me! Stop trying to protect me!” Kazuma cried, his eyes welling up with tears. “Why can't you let me have you, Barok? It's not fair!”

“It's not that simple, Kazuma. I'm not sure if your feelings for me will remain the same once your past memories return,” Barok replied, trying to reason with him.

“You are wrong! I love you, and no memory will erase that. I don't care if I once loathed being a vampire. My love for you is stronger than any memory from my past,” Kazuma said, as Barok lifted his hand to cup his face.

“Kazuma...”

“You can't protect me all by yourself, Barok. Let me help you,” Kazuma pleaded, using his sword as a cane to slowly and painfully make his way toward Stronghart under the shade of a nearby bush.

“Are you really going to finish this? You're nothing but a monster,” Stronghart chuckled sickly, his eyes fixed on Kazuma still hobbling toward him.

"'Ey Kaz, don't go an' burn up on us, ya 'ear?" Gina cautioned Kazuma.

Kazuma and Stronghart engaged in a sword fight. Stronghart used his cane to strike Kazuma's sword, but Kazuma parried the attack. They continued exchanging blows and blocking each other's strikes while utilizing whatever bits of shade were available.

"What's your intention with this? You're aware that you'll die from the heat of the sun," Stronghart questioned with concern.

Kazuma smirked and replied, "Do you think I'm not aware of that?" He then charged towards Stronghart with his sword in hand, and as they both fell into the blazing sun, he chuckled. "I cannot allow you to hurt anyone else. Even if it means risking burning here, at least I know that you won't take anyone else I love away."

Stronghart's body writhed in agony as he gasped, "you bastard," struggling for breath. Kazuma pinned him down, feeling the searing heat emanating from Stronghart's back. The pain intensified to the point where it became almost unbearable, causing Kazuma to cry out in anguish. Resigned, Stronghart began to fade, his consciousness slipping away as he prayed for it all to end. Finally, Kazuma succumbed to the darkness, the pain of his injuries overtaking him.

Kazuma's eyes fluttered open to a surreal dream world, where Barok lay next to him on a plush bed, a contented smile on his face. Kazuma's senses were awash with the heady scent of lavender and rose, while a soft hand traced his cheek soothingly. He felt himself drifting away in the wake of pure happiness, relishing the moment. However, this idyllic dream didn't last, fading into blackness before reality hit. He was lying in a darkened room, and Barok was there, his wound fully healed. Kazuma drank in the sight of Barok's warm form wrapped around his own, relief and joy washing over him. As Barok's eyes slowly opened, Kazuma felt his heart fill with wonder and gratitude, his dreams and reality merging into one.

Barok surrendered, conceding, "You win."

Kazuma, unsure, prodded, "What do you mean?"

Barok's hands held Kazuma's face as he pleaded, "Please, you can have me. But please, promise me that you will never hurt yourself like that again." Kazuma felt the weight of Barok's defeat.

Kazuma mumbles, "I should apologize for pushing you."

Barok shakes his head, "No, you were right. I was being unfair. We shouldn't protect each other alone. I should trust you more and consider your feelings. I apologize for putting my desires before yours."

Kazuma agrees, "We both need to work on putting the other person first."

Barok seals their reconciliation with a kiss, whispering, "I love you. Let's sleep some more." Kazuma nuzzles into Barok's warmth and dozes off soundly.

With one another, they need not be apprehensive of any challenges that may arise. Kazuma's memories may return in due course, but his devotion to Barok will endure unwaveringly. Barok's love for Kazuma will also remain steadfast, undiminished by the passage of time. Meanwhile, Stronghart's physical remnants may be located as numerous ash particles strewn along the Thames.

#Ace Attorney #BaroAso #AsoBaro #asobaroweek2023 #Day 6 #AU #Commitment #Vampire AU #I've read a lot of vampire stories where Barok is the vampire and either Kazuma or Ryunosuke are the human lovers #Either that or Kazuma is the vampire and Ryunosuke is the human lover or vice versa #Never had a love story where both are vampires

[abc04]

[Image Description: A brown wooden bed with cream colored bedding. The quilt has embroidered bundles of various flowers, notably orange, yellow, and pink ones. The sheets are white with light gray floral patterns. The first photo is of the bed, the second is from a different angle and includes a brown plush teddy bear on the bed, the third is a close up of the quilt, and the fourth is a close up of the pillows. /end ID]

Chris Loves Julia Reversible Floral Embroidered Quilt & Shams from Pottery Barn Kids

#our posts #uploads #sfw agere #rooms #bedding #milly

[thedeadthree]

CHARACTER NATURE AESTHETICS

hi! i was tagged by the darlings @risingsh0t, @blackreaches, @chuckhansen, @leviiackrman and @dihardys to do this cutest tag game for a few loves! ty so much! <3 (x)

TAGGING: @griffin-wood, @queennymeria, @marivenah, @confidentandgood, @yennas, @aartyom, @swordcoasts, @florbelles, @shellibisshe, @jackiesarch, @jacobseed, @belorage, @virassan, @shadowglens, @heroofpenamstan, @multiverse-of-themind, @celticwoman, @inkrys, @adelaidedrubman, @roofgeese, @steelport, @flyntz, @arklay, @roberthouses, @aceghosts, @alexandbear, @pheedraws, @loriane-elmuerto, @rosebarsoap and you!

Cottagecore

homemade bread, throwing seeds out for the chickens, a tabby cat, patchwork quilts, puffy skirts, ceramic dishes, fresh flowers in a glass jar, herbs hanging from the ceiling, freckles, grey eyes, Athena, old recipe books, a cookie tin filled with recipe cards from grandma, home-sewn pillows, a plate of cookies, the smell of rosemary cooking in a pot of water on the stove, a floral tea pot, salt and pepper shakers, pansies, bartering with neighbors, biking to town, stained glass windows

Zen Gardencore

rocks raked with precision, bonsai trees, holy temples, moss covering statues of gods and godesses, reading ancient texts, being blessed by your ancestors, trusting and family devotion, watercolors on paper, ink on skin, poetry and art, hot springs, cherry blossoms, little flames flickering behind paper curtains, the smell of incense burning, figurines carved from jade and gold from centuries ago, rain, a mist seeping around your ankles as you make your way to school, a chalkboard, scraps of cloth made into art, origami, your father’s heirloom sword you long to one day pick up like your favorite Disney Princess, tranquility and peace, stubborn and proud

Junglecore

exotic animals, tree house, waterfalls, learning the calls of native birds, bright colors and natural materials, bracelets made from wooden beads and bones and feathers, collecting mushrooms (if you know you know), shirts with the sleeves cut off, leaving plastic bottle caps out full of water for frogs to soak in, cutting jeans to make them into shorts, wading in the river, cutting your own hair, bamboo wind chimes, upcycled art, fish in plastic jugs, air plants, climbing up trees using the vines, harvesting your own fruit

Forestcore

deep silences of the oldest trees, darkness, log cabins, deer antlers mounted on the wall, rearticulated skeletons, hand-dried pelts, pots of stew cooking over a fire, pancakes in a cast iron pan, brown boots worn from hiking, an old walking stick, bonfires at night, roasting marshmallows and making s’mores, strange markings carved into the bark of trees, ferns that curl up when touched, hearing animals dart here and there but never being able to catch more than a quick glimpse of them out of the corner of your eye, finding half-eaten acorns and mushrooms, large tracks from something you can’t identify, bow hunting

Beachcore

seashell collection, model boats, jars of sand, windswept hair, the feel of the wooden boardwalk on your bare feet, big sunglasses, light blue walls, rope hammock, pillows with anchors embroidered on them, flip flops, shining sun, fish tank, sea animal plushies, a steering wheel from a boat on your wall, plates and mugs with seahorses on them, bracelets with plastic shell and dolphin and turtle beads on them, postcards from the ocean, wind chimes made of sea glass

Mountain/Meadowcore

watching the rabbits down in the valley, reading a book in a window seat, checking the sky for storms, knitting heavy quilts for the winter, many layers of clothing, waking up to see the sunrise and sitting outside for the sunset, enjoying the company of ones-self, mountain goats, clovers, laying in the tall grass underneath the sun, field mice, crystal and gemstone collection, a tin filled with buttons and sewing needles and thread, fresh-brewed coffee in the morning, scones

Cottagecore

homemade bread, throwing seeds out for the chickens, a tabby cat, patchwork quilts, puffy skirts, ceramic dishes (prefers gold), fresh flowers in a glass jar, herbs hanging from the ceiling, freckles, grey eyes, Athena, old recipe books, a cookie tin filled with recipe cards from grandma, home-sewn pillows, a plate of cookies, the smell of rosemary cooking in a pot of water on the stove, a floral tea pot, salt and pepper shakers, pansies, bartering with neighbors (if she wants for something she will have it), biking to town, stained glass windows

Zen Gardencore

rocks raked with precision, bonsai trees, holy temples, moss covering statues of gods and godesses, reading ancient texts, being blessed by your ancestors, trusting and family devotion, watercolors on paper, ink on skin, poetry and art, hot springs, cherry blossoms, little flames flickering behind paper curtains, the smell of incense burning, figurines carved from jade and gold from centuries ago, rain, a mist seeping around your ankles as you make your way to school, a chalkboard, scraps of cloth made into art, origami, your father’s heirloom sword you long to one day pick up like your favorite Disney Princess, tranquility and peace, stubborn and proud

Junglecore

exotic animals, tree house, waterfalls, learning the calls of native birds, bright colors and natural materials, bracelets made from wooden beads and bones and feathers, collecting mushrooms, shirts with the sleeves cut off, leaving plastic bottle caps out full of water for frogs to soak in, cutting jeans to make them into shorts, wading in the river, cutting your own hair, bamboo wind chimes, upcycled art, fish in plastic jugs, air plants, climbing up trees using the vines, harvesting your own fruit

Forestcore

deep silences of the oldest trees, darkness, log cabins, deer antlers mounted on the wall, rearticulated skeletons, hand-dried pelts, pots of stew cooking over a fire, pancakes in a cast iron pan, brown boots worn from hiking, an old walking stick, bonfires at night, roasting marshmallows and making s’mores, strange markings carved into the bark of trees, ferns that curl up when touched, hearing animals dart here and there but never being able to catch more than a quick glimpse of them out of the corner of your eye, finding half-eaten acorns and mushrooms, large tracks from something you can’t identify, bow hunting

Beachcore

seashell collection, model boats, jars of sand, windswept hair, the feel of the wooden boardwalk on your bare feet, big sunglasses, light blue walls, rope hammock, pillows with anchors embroidered on them, flip flops, shining sun, fish tank, sea animal plushies, a steering wheel from a boat on your wall, plates and mugs with seahorses on them, bracelets with plastic shell and dolphin and turtle beads on them, postcards from the ocean, wind chimes made of sea glass

Mountain/Meadowcore

watching the rabbits down in the valley, reading a book in a window seat, checking the sky for storms, knitting heavy quilts for the winter, many layers of clothing, waking up to see the sunrise and sitting outside for the sunset, enjoying the company of ones-self, mountain goats, clovers, laying in the tall grass underneath the sun, field mice, crystal and gemstone collection, a tin filled with buttons and sewing needles and thread, fresh-brewed coffee in the morning, scones

Cottagecore

homemade bread, throwing seeds out for the chickens, a tabby cat, patchwork quilts, puffy skirts, ceramic dishes, fresh flowers in a glass jar, herbs hanging from the ceiling, freckles, grey eyes, Athena, old recipe books, a cookie tin filled with recipe cards from grandma, home-sewn pillows, a plate of cookies, the smell of rosemary cooking in a pot of water on the stove, a floral tea pot, salt and pepper shakers, pansies, bartering with neighbors (a waste of time), biking to town, stained glass windows

Zen Gardencore

rocks raked with precision, bonsai trees, holy temples, moss covering statues of gods and godesses, reading ancient texts, being blessed by your ancestors, trusting and family devotion (HUGE NO), watercolors on paper, ink on skin, poetry and art, hot springs, cherry blossoms, little flames flickering behind paper curtains, the smell of incense burning, figurines carved from jade and gold from centuries ago, rain, a mist seeping around your ankles as you make your way to school, a chalkboard, scraps of cloth made into art, origami, your father’s heirloom sword you long to one day pick up like your favorite Disney Princess, tranquility and peace, stubborn and proud

Junglecore

exotic animals, tree house, waterfalls, learning the calls of native birds, bright colors and natural materials, bracelets made from wooden beads and bones and feathers, collecting mushrooms, shirts with the sleeves cut off, leaving plastic bottle caps out full of water for frogs to soak in, cutting jeans to make them into shorts, wading in the river, cutting your own hair, bamboo wind chimes, upcycled art, fish in plastic jugs, air plants, climbing up trees using the vines, harvesting your own fruit

Forestcore

deep silences of the oldest trees, darkness, log cabins, deer antlers mounted on the wall, rearticulated skeletons, hand-dried pelts, pots of stew cooking over a fire, pancakes in a cast iron pan, brown boots worn from hiking, an old walking stick, bonfires at night, roasting marshmallows and making s’mores, strange markings carved into the bark of trees, ferns that curl up when touched, hearing animals dart here and there but never being able to catch more than a quick glimpse of them out of the corner of your eye, finding half-eaten acorns and mushrooms, large tracks from something you can’t identify, bow hunting

Beachcore

seashell collection, model boats, jars of sand, windswept hair, the feel of the wooden boardwalk on your bare feet, big sunglasses, light blue walls, rope hammock, pillows with anchors embroidered on them, flip flops, shining sun, fish tank, sea animal plushies, a steering wheel from a boat on your wall, plates and mugs with seahorses on them, bracelets with plastic shell and dolphin and turtle beads on them, postcards from the ocean, wind chimes made of sea glass

Mountain/Meadowcore

watching the rabbits down in the valley, reading a book in a window seat, checking the sky for storms, knitting heavy quilts for the winter, many layers of clothing, waking up to see the sunrise and sitting outside for the sunset, enjoying the company of ones-self, mountain goats, clovers, laying in the tall grass underneath the sun, field mice, crystal and gemstone collection, a tin filled with buttons and sewing needles and thread, fresh-brewed coffee in the morning, scones

Cottagecore

homemade bread, throwing seeds out for the chickens, a tabby cat, patchwork quilts, puffy skirts, ceramic dishes, fresh flowers in a glass jar, herbs hanging from the ceiling, freckles, grey eyes, Athena, old recipe books, a cookie tin filled with recipe cards from grandma, home-sewn pillows, a plate of cookies, the smell of rosemary cooking in a pot of water on the stove, a floral tea pot, salt and pepper shakers, pansies, bartering with neighbors, biking to town, stained glass windows

Zen Gardencore

rocks raked with precision, bonsai trees, holy temples, moss covering statues of gods and godesses, reading ancient texts, being blessed by your ancestors, trusting and family devotion, watercolors on paper, ink on skin, poetry and art, hot springs, cherry blossoms, little flames flickering behind paper curtains, the smell of incense burning, figurines carved from jade and gold from centuries ago, rain, a mist seeping around your ankles as you make your way to school, a chalkboard, scraps of cloth made into art, origami, your father’s heirloom sword you long to one day pick up like your favorite Disney Princess, tranquility and peace, stubborn and proud

Junglecore

exotic animals, tree house, waterfalls, learning the calls of native birds, bright colors and natural materials, bracelets made from wooden beads and bones and feathers, collecting mushrooms, shirts with the sleeves cut off, leaving plastic bottle caps out full of water for frogs to soak in, cutting jeans to make them into shorts, wading in the river, cutting your own hair, bamboo wind chimes, upcycled art, fish in plastic jugs, air plants, climbing up trees using the vines, harvesting your own fruit

Forestcore

deep silences of the oldest trees, darkness, log cabins, deer antlers mounted on the wall, rearticulated skeletons, hand-dried pelts, pots of stew cooking over a fire, pancakes in a cast iron pan, brown boots worn from hiking, an old walking stick, bonfires at night, roasting marshmallows and making s’mores, strange markings carved into the bark of trees, ferns that curl up when touched, hearing animals dart here and there but never being able to catch more than a quick glimpse of them out of the corner of your eye, finding half-eaten acorns and mushrooms, large tracks from something you can’t identify, bow hunting

Beachcore

seashell collection, model boats, jars of sand, windswept hair, the feel of the wooden boardwalk on your bare feet, big sunglasses, light blue walls, rope hammock, pillows with anchors embroidered on them, flip flops, shining sun, fish tank, sea animal plushies, a steering wheel from a boat on your wall, plates and mugs with seahorses on them, bracelets with plastic shell and dolphin and turtle beads on them, postcards from the ocean, wind chimes made of sea glass

Mountain/Meadowcore

watching the rabbits down in the valley, reading a book in a window seat, checking the sky for storms, knitting heavy quilts for the winter, many layers of clothing, waking up to see the sunrise and sitting outside for the sunset, enjoying the company of ones-self, mountain goats, clovers, laying in the tall grass underneath the sun, field mice, crystal and gemstone collection, a tin filled with buttons and sewing needles and thread, fresh-brewed coffee in the morning, scones

#only if you want to of course! 🖤 #oc: lioslaith mac ruaidhrí #oc: adda de trastamara #oc: zoya de tancarville #oc: holland willoughby #leg.ocs #leg.tagged #leg.txt #if you have done this already please feel free to ignore! and if i missed you please take this as your tag! #THANK YOU SO MUCH BELOVEDS <3 #i will for sure be doing this with more ocs..! this was so cute to do! #ajsnkak lioslaith in the last two sessions on picking mushrooms IM SCREAMING.. she wishes not to kansxkajs #(they are at times fae affiliated and alive and like.... as the heir of an empire she wishes not to make enemies of potential allies..?) #i also realized i liked zoya better (the name meaning is more fitting! its 'from zeus' and her being descended from -> #a vampiric divine being her name meaning 'from a god' FIT SO WELL for her you know?) #i still need to figure out what her class is but ill get to play her in 3 days so ill determine that then! <3 #i love that holland aligned with so many of the aesthetics here <3 that ex personal assistant was MEANT for life in stardew <3 #zoya LOATHING beaches and cottages asnjkhnxdk but that dearest the most in love with the zen garden..! love that for u! #even the chaotic/lawful evil aligned (it varies on her mood that day ajnxksn) need *peace* u know <3 #also SCREAMING how much zoy VEHEMENTLY loathes trusting anyone especially her family.. so that's why that was a HARD no asnk #given her back story its so on brand! also loving for adda that she also felt the most at home with the garden aesthetic! #shes also lawful evil aligned jsanxn (at times lawful neutral bc though power hungry she still loves her people <3)