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funficwriter · 7 months

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Fontaine Characters with Violinist Reader!

A/N: This disappearing thing of mine is annoying, I'm trying to stop it. However, I finally got a bit of spare time to play Genshin and I am so, so in love with Fontaine. I think it's gonna be a wonderful arc. I haven't felt this much jubilation since Liyue or Inazuma!

Warnings; None, really.

Lyney, Lynette, Neuvillette, Navia, Furina, Wriothesley (no particular order)

Lyney

First off, this boy is no stranger to performing, an activity he loves. Naturally, he's going to be most interested in fellow performers, including you!

If you're the type to get anxious before, or even during a performance, say goodbye to that with him. He'll guide you through plenty of destressing rituals to help you relax beforehand.

(This included, but wasn't limited to; Taking deep breaths, doing tongue twisters, asking you to play meme songs on your violin, or tickling your sides because 'laughing is a great way to be loose'.)

Even during, should you freeze up and he's in the audience, he'll do a quick but loud magic trick to get everyone's eyes off you. Even one that makes him look like a fool, so long as you have time to put yourself together.

He'd LOVE to have you on stage with him! He adores your music and would ask you to sync it up with dramatic moments in his magic.

If you compose you own stuff, he's pretty much your biggest fan. The guy who never misses a concert. The loudest clapper. The biggest braggart.

"That gorgeous, graceful violinist we had the pleasure of watching? What if I told you that they're coupled up with an equally electric performer? That is, me~."

Lynette

It's easy to think that her brother outdoes her in terms of being your fan, but quietness hides a lot. If you think she doesn't care as much, you're so, so wrong.

She learned several music skills just to be closer to you, including sight-reading. BTW, she's got a killer voice and loves to sing out your compositions. Sometimes it helps you come up with alternative movements within them.

She can also play piano, to a good level of accompaniment. With time, one would think she is also a music assistant; It's not uncommon for her to be on your stage.

Lynette is VERY attentive to your instrument. Does it need rosin? A new bow, perhaps a re-hair? You just say the word, and she'll happily take it to the repair workshop if you have no time.

"By the way, Y/N prefers real horse hair, the thinnest you have. Don't worry. They're talented enough to thrive on it.".

She makes it a point to let you know how much she loves what you do: "All other music in Fontaine pales in its beauty next to yours. Please, keep playing.".

Neuvillette

You play the violin? (he crosses his legs and assumes his royal position). So when are you going to get married? Will you be okay playing a few pieces, even while being the spouse? /Half-joking, tbh.

For him to say that he is the lover of a music pioneer as important as you... Will never not be a moment of joy for him.

First off, what a sugar daddy. I hope you made a list of the expensive violins you wanted but couldn't afford. Because now, it's yours, never mind the Mora. Your very case may as well be coated with gold.

He won't die on this hill, but he would love it if you could play a bit during the parties he hosts. He loves live music to begin with, but after hearing you, it feels like no other pro could hope to sound as good as you.

(And side note, he likes how mesmerized everyone is with you lol)

If you're the type to remember your patron's personal preferences, and compose/play in accordance to that, just for him? Put hearts in his eyes. He's no longer joking about the wedding thing.

While he loves showing you off, he'll never force you if you're shy/nervous. If anything, he would also feel very special if he got to heard songs not out yet, compositions just for him...

"Perhaps this is Lady Furina's way of rewarding me for my years of service. Bless our Archon for giving me such a talented, show and heart-stopping partner.".

Navia

She likes that the Spina del Rosula is represented by passionate, talented people!

If you like sweets, I say just join her team. It's guaranteed pastries after each request lol.

Her detective work is cool, but can get a bit drab after a while. She likes asking you to play some violin ambiance, partly because it makes her feel cool, and partly because your music changes the atmosphere for much better.

Navia is a woman of decorum, but she'll often have trouble staying still during your concerts. It doesn't matter if there are rules to how loud a woman can cheer, she's happy for you and will make sure you know that.

She becomes even more proactive than usual. If a concert of yours falls on the same time as her work, she'll scour the ends of Teyvat for its solution, so she can see you.

With time, she might request you to play pieces that her father loved. Once they're brought back to life, through your own strings, she can't help but be a little emotional. She must have done something wonderful to have you.

"How beautiful, how poignant as you, my dear Y/N! This calls for macaroons! Which flavor would you like today?".

Furina

"Yes, Neuvillette, I know they perform and all, but why can't I keep them to myself! They're so darn great, I want that everyday!"

Of course, she's not gonna stop you, but beware; I feel like Furina would almost turn you into her own personal violinist lol.

She'd keep requesting your presence over her other personal entertainment and somewhat bombard you with song requests. Buuut if you're looking for a varied repertoire, she's your gal!

One reason she requests so much is because she so impressed with how you not only fulfill them all, you do it so creatively and beautifully. You don't just follow the note as it is... Once you're acquainted with what she likes, you modify the tune a bit to be more her taste.

She's so cute when she claps; The way her hands go so fast and she's about to get up from the seat, the huge eye and smile... Why, you might start reconsidering her offer.

"Bravooooo, Y/N!! Bravo! That was everything, I can't go on without an encore!"

If the tune is more happy-go-lucky, she will get up and dance along. Will also do it in circles around you because she's your little orb :3

Wriothesley

"Forgive me for intruding... But I was overhearing, and your playing is terrific. Electrifying. Do you happen to perform on Saturday nights? That's when I can leave the Fortress for a bit.".

Of all your fans, Wrio is one of the quieter ones, but not so much that no one knows it. For one, he's a Duke, he's bound to enjoy good music. And heavens knows he needs some fun in his life.

Here's a fun thing (ngl this is what I was excited to write): At first, it doesn't sound like he can make it to your recital. You see him on his desk, surrounded by paper mountains that only ever seem to grow. He doesn't want to make you sad, but his remark lets you know that he's not coming: "Would it kill some of these people to tone it down for a bit so I can go see my partner perform?".

So imagine your shock when you step on stage, and see him on the first row, sitting tall and handsome, shit-eating grin on his face and waving. You really bought it for a moment.

"Hehe... Did you really think I can't even make a bit of time to see Fontaine's best violinist in action? You actually bought that?".

I HC that he has insomnia, and has tried any things to cure it, but to no avail. It's rumored in Fontaine that his is incurable, but little do they know about how he lays down next to your sitting form. Little do they know of the soft lullabies you composed just for him, or how peacefully he dreams afterwards 💜

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fontaine #lyney x reader #lynette x reader #furina x reader #neuvillette x reader #navia x reader #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fluff

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ballad-of-birdy-lamb · 5 months

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there needs to be more lucy gray stuff on tumblr i swear 😭😭 it’s actually hurting me, im in love with her. anyways…could you write some fluff headcanons w lucy gray and a fem!reader pls? thx :)

I ❤️ Lucy Gray

Lucy Gray Baird x Fem! Reader (headcanons, fluff, romantic)

She is likely the type of person to not care if someone is a man or a woman. If she likes you, you're around her age, and you're kind, you might as well date

Before dating, she was very willing to drop hints. If there was a sign of interest you had in her, she took the opportunity

After dating, she is just as sweet as before, a bit toned down but still loving

Lucy Gray expects you to go to her shows, all of them if you can

Piggybacking off the last one, she'll write songs for and about you. They'll be ballads talking about your kindness and the things you give her

Roses are some of her favorite gifts, she loves the taste and they always smell good. Another good option is handmade gifts, letters, poems, hell, food is all she adores

If you give her poems, she is very willing to turn them into songs. But only sings them for you since they're special

She has sung to you and played the guitar for you. But in a cool way

She NEEDS to feel like she can trust you. She couldn't trust Billy Taupe and she couldn't trust anyone in the arena, so you still have time to prove to her that you're trustworthy

After the Games, violence was an absolute no in her life (it was a no before but it's absolute after everything). If you find a way to bring that brutality back into her life, she'll leave as quickly as she had come

If you get her gifts that are a bit expensive, she'll send you some goat cheese for free!

To all that have requested before this post was, I’m working on several longer fanfics and plan to release the headcanons first then the full fanfics when I finish them!!

Link to my tbosas masterlist

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aphroditelovesu · 5 months

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Since requests are closing in a few days, I just wanted to put another one in. No rush go get it done of course!

I want to request a oneshot/reaction where Alexander gives reader a really, REALLY expensive necklace. Maybe it's a wedding present, a just because present , or something following the birth of the twins. You can decide what you want to do with that 😁!

Also, I keep picturing a necklace made of opal??? Not only is it a stunning gem stone, but it was also thought to be the tears of Zeus in ancient Greece, which would be an interesting tie to Alexander. Again, it's just a suggestion. You can use whatever gemstone you want!

Thanks, and take care ❤️❤️❤️!

--O-

❝ 📜— lady l: this had been sitting in my drafts for a while and I finally decided to write it. I got a little carried away, so it's a little big, but I hope you like it and if you want to order anything else, feel free, anon! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: none, just fluff and very soft!Alexander.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

❝word count: 1,308.

Alexander wanted to find something to give you. Something expensive and extravagant, something that would leave you impressed.

He felt like he owed you that. Not only had you given birth to his children, but you were loved by him and he wanted to please you. He thought of several options: a horse, silk clothes, food and even drink. He still wasn't sure what you might like.

Until he had an idea after talking to Hephaestion. He was the one who gave you the idea of giving you a necklace made from a special and rare gem. And he knew it was the right choice to make.

It was no easy task to get a merchant to have the necklace he liked and deemed worthy of you to wear around your delicate neck, but after the fifth try with a different merchant, he finally knew what your gift should be. He decided to gift you with an opal necklace, a jewel that reflected the beauty and mystery of his passion.

It would change color and he would know that it would look beautiful and graceful on your neck. Everything about you was beautiful and graceful, so the necklace would only stand out on you and no one else.

This opulent piece was adorned with the most dazzling opals that could be found in the entire Empire. Each stone sparkled with vibrant colors, dancing like the aurora borealis reflected in the starry night. The necklace was a unique treasure, a harmony of opalescent hues, displaying hues of celestial blue, emerald green, and royal purple.

The merchant who sold it told him a story about the necklace and it was this story that convinced him to buy it. According to the Persian merchant, legend said that opals were gifts from star spirits, who bestowed their blessings on those who used them with love and wisdom. The necklace was not just a piece of jewelry, but a source of magical power. Its colors and reflections were believed to contain the essence of nature, connecting the wearer to the spiritual realms and bringing fortune and protection.

Whoever owned the opal necklace was seen as a keeper of ancient secrets, an heir to the ancient magic that flowed through the precious stones. It was said that opal possessed the ability to amplify intuition and creativity, allowing the wearer to see beyond the ordinary, opening doors to new possibilities and inspiration.

After this explanation, Alexander knew that this necklace must be yours. Not just because of your story, but because of who you were. From when you really came. No one was more worthy than you.

There was also another version of the story that convinced him to buy it. Knowing how religious Alexander was, the merchant also told him that the opal was made from the tears of Zeus. Long ago, at the beginning of Greek civilization, when the gods walked among mortals, Zeus, the mighty king of the gods, shed tears of joy and sorrow over human fate. These tears, upon touching the earth, transformed into radiant stones known as opals, carrying within them the duality of emotions of the great god.

Thus was born the opal, a legendary gem forged by Zeus' own tears. Each stone was shaped from divine emotions, capturing the essence of heaven and earth. Its unique iridescence reflected not only the colors of the rainbow, but also the contrasting feelings of joy and sadness, hope and despair, harmonized in an eternal dance of light and shadow. Ancient sages believed that the necklace was not just a manifestation of beauty, but rather a link between mortals and the gods. It was said that whoever wore the opal necklace would be enveloped in the protection of Zeus and would have the divine wisdom to navigate life's challenges.

And maybe when little Aella grew up, he could give her a necklace similar to the one he chose for you.

He smiled at the thought and with the necklace inside a small wooden box with gold ornaments, he walked to the room you shared in the Babylonian palace. Straightening his posture, Alexander knocked on the door and after hearing a soft ''come in'', he opened the door and smiled widely when he saw you sitting in a padded chair with Aella in one arm and Cyrus in the other. He fell silent when he realized the twins were asleep.

You looked at him and smiled softly when you saw what he had in his hands. Alexander placed the box on a table next to the bed and approached you, carefully taking Cyrus in his arm. You smiled lovingly when you saw him cuddling the baby in his arms.

Whispering, Alexander says, ''I have something for you.''

You smiled and asked curiously, ''What is it?''

Alexander carefully picked up the box with the arm that wasn't swinging Cyrus and placed him on your lap, looking at you expectantly. You smiled and opened the box with a little difficulty due to the sleeping child in your arms. Your eyes widened when you saw the lush opal necklace. You had never seen such beautiful jewelry.

Alexander, who was watching you like a hawk, smiled at you.

''Alexander, that's…'' You swallowed and took the necklace in your hand, carefully observing its details. The necklace was a magnificent piece, a heavenly masterpiece that captivated the eyes of all who dared to gaze upon it. Every aspect of the necklace was a symphony of intertwined beauty and magic.

The centerpiece of the necklace consisted of a main opal, a generously sized gem that radiated an unparalleled iridescent glow. This central opal was an explosion of celestial color, with soft, shimmering hues that moved like an aurora borealis trapped within the gemstone. Its tones ranged from the deep blue of twilight to the lush green of enchanted forests, and occasional glimpses of the deep red of divine fire.

Around the main opal, a series of smaller opals were skillfully arranged, forming a necklace that seemed to have been woven by the stars' own hand. Each smaller gem had its own color personality, some glowing an ethereal blue, others a crystalline green, and still others with purple and gold hues reminiscent of the sun setting over distant mountains.

The structure of the necklace was as intricate as the reflections of the opals. Delicate strands of gold wove between the gems, creating a sparkling frame that complemented the iridescence of the opals. Small, intricate metal sculptures, decorated with designs that resembled star constellations, adorned the necklace, giving it an aura of ancient magic.

''Do you like it?'' Alexander asked after you remained silent, observing the necklace with a strange expression.

''I loved it.'' You whispered, admiring the necklace. Alexander walked over to you and took the necklace from your hands and placed Cyrus back in your arms, careful not to wake him. He stood behind you and removed your hair from your neck, placing the magnificent necklace around your neck. You closed your eyes when you felt the touch of his calloused fingers on your skin and sighed when the necklace was placed on you.

''I'm glad, it suits you.'' He kissed your neck affectionately and you closed your eyes, smiling.

Alexander leaned closer to your ear and whispered, ''When I heard the story about the opal… I knew it would have to be yours and yours alone.''

You opened your eyes and turned your head, looking at him. ''And what is this story?''

Alexander smiled widely and after kissing your forehead, he began to tell you both stories he had heard from the merchant. You just listened in silence, delighting in his words, with your sleeping children on your arm and the weight of the beautiful necklace around your neck.

Your small, loving family.

#history #yandere history #yandere historical characters #yandere alexander the great #yandere alexander the great x reader #alexander the great x reader #tlq #the lost queen #reaction #imagine #o- anon #yandere imagine #yandere reaction

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blurredcolour · 1 month

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VI. "Trust Me, Doll..."

"Trust" Series Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x WAC!Female Reader

War is hell and every time it seems you and Bucky adapt to your new normal, the game is changed yet again. When at last Victory in Europe is achieved, the pair of you can finally focus on forging the way ahead.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Grief, Mentions of Death, Imprisonment, Pregnancy, Childbirth in Retrospect, Child Rearing, Motherhood, Era-Typical Sexism and Marital Expectations, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [Unprotected Vaginal Sex, Sex While Trying Not to Be Overhead] - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note(s): This is it! Oh wow, we made it, kids! Thank you to each and every one of you for your incredible engagement with this series it has truly been an inspiration! I love all of you and have more Bucky thoughts brewing!!!

As always, letters/telegrams have image descriptions that can be accessed by clicking the 'ALT' button. Special thanks to Marina @precious-little-scoundrel for helping me untangle numerous plot points in this series. I could not have done this without you, darling! This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 7444

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Your sudden return home in mid-February had been decidedly awkward. Without time to send a letter of warning, you had spent a lot of coins on a phone call in a telephone booth at the hospital in New Jersey while you awaited the arrival of a WAC commanding officer to process your discharge.

To say your mother had been surprised to hear your voice over the line was an understatement. Mercifully, your father had already left for work that day and you had only had to break the news to her. Given the frosty welcome you had received from him by the time you managed to reach the steps of your childhood home, you hated to think what his reaction would have been if you had informed him that his unwed daughter was kicked out of the Women’s Army Corps for being pregnant without the softening interference of your mother.

It was truly disorienting to be back somewhere so very familiar when you were so utterly different. The war had left its marks here too, though. A gold star banner hung proudly in the front window, in honor of your brother, and your mother’s garden out back had mostly been turned over to the growing of vegetables, with a huge stockpile of jarred preserves now overflowing the pantry. But the two bedrooms at the top of the stairs belonging to you and your brother, separated by a small hallway that was really no more than a glorified landing, were exactly as you had left them in 1942. As if they were frozen in time. Dusted and cared for, but ready and waiting for you to pick up your old lives.

Only your brother was never coming home, and you had returned home but entirely changed. After the relentless pace you had maintained since enlisting, the thought of remaining at home in idle leisure was too off-putting to even contemplate. You allowed yourself a few days of adjusting to the violent change in time – at least when you had traveled to England you had been afford several days at sea to transition. Flight across the Atlantic had been utterly jarring, and it had taken great discipline to turn your nighttime back into day.

But once you had re-acclimated to the North American clock, you had promptly ventured out to find yourself gainful employment at a nearby grocery store. The owner, Nick, was a friend of the family. A kind man who did not seem interested in asking too many questions about why you were back early, was simply eager for the help around his store. It was most definitely not as mentally taxing as the work you had previously undertaken as a WAC, but it was money, and that was sorely needed as babies were expensive.

Your mother seemed fretful about you working in your ‘delicate condition,’ but the demands of the position paled in comparison to the one you had just left, and you rarely worked more than six hours a day. There was still plenty of time to sit with her, improving your knitting skills as you started on a baby blanket. Your mother was duly impressed you had picked up such a feminine skill abroad and seemed more than happy to pass along helpful hints.

In all truth she did appear to be struggling, dwelling frequently on memories and nostalgia for happier times. It was difficult to say how your father was coping in the wake of your brother’s passing. Any hours when he was not at work, he was spending behind the closed door of your dead sibling’s room, all manner of noises and the odd curse word seeping through the cracks, but neither you nor your mother were quite certain what he was up to.

You had sent a letter to Bucky immediately upon your arrival, as promised, still not divulging the full extent of the situation, but it had been stocked with reassurances and re-direction. It appeared he had not yet received it based on his letter that reached you in mid-April.

Damn that man, but you did love him so. Baby animals – had he guessed the true nature of your discharge then? Gnawing ruthlessly on your lower lip, you found yourself pacing around your room, one hand rubbing at your lower back, sore from standing all day with the growing weight of your swollen abdomen.

‘Or is he simply fishing for more information, unconvinced?’ You wondered to yourself, sighing heavily.

He was simply too intelligent for his own good. Another man would simply have taken your words at face value and left it at that. But there was a reason you had not fallen in love with another man. Had not given yourself to another man.

With another deep sigh, you dug out your writing supplies and drafted a reply that acknowledged his statements but neither confirmed nor denied them. There was no desire on your part to entrap or obligate him into anything. That was the last thing you wanted – to pin a man who so cherished his freedom down against his will. Particularly after enduring his current stay in a prison camp.

As the weather grew ever warmer, it became increasingly difficult to conceal your predicament – no matter how baggy or oversized your dresses were. Your engagement ring only went so far in polite society to protect you from judgemental stares and by the end of April you were forced to quit your job and confine yourself almost entirely to the house. May seemed to drag on, though you certainly managed to knit a wide variety of nearly perfect baby clothes for different stages.

Perhaps the brightest spot came one evening when your father emerged from the room opposite yours and left the door open for the first time since you came home, revealing not the preserved bedroom of your brother, but a fully prepared nursery, complete with an assembled crib, rocking chair, dresser, and change table. As you stood in your doorway in shock, eyes brimming with tears, he shoved his hands into his pockets and gruffly muttered, “baby needs somewhere to sleep after all,” before trudging down the stairs to the bedroom he shared with your mother.

June burst onto the scene with the Allied invasion of France and the good news only continued with the signing of the GI Bill on the 22nd. Your years of service and honorable discharge earned you, and your very active and rapidly growing baby, subsidized medical care. It could not have been timelier as appointments became more and more frequent, your due date looming at the end of July.

Much like her father, Clara Mae had a mind of her own when it came to her time of arrival. She was born in the middle of the night on July 22nd at the local veteran’s hospital – one of the first GI Bill babies, the nurses informed you.

The choice of her name had been rather easy, derived from Bucky’s middle name - Clarence. While you could not give her his family name, or even list him as her father on the birth certificate without his signature, you could at least give her this for now. He had already given her his mischievous eyes and unmistakable ears. Time would tell what other of his features she would share. If the grey-blue of her eyes would settle in the color of the stormy sea like his. If the slight dusting of fuzz of her head would grow into luscious, dark curls.

Sitting there in sore, stunned exhaustion as they carted her off to the nursery, you looked up as your mother sidled over, the broad grin of a recent grandparenthood still splitting her face.

“We have to write Major Egan right away and let him know. Oh he’ll be so thrilled, a sweet little girl to come home to now!”

The force with which your face crumpled, physically unable to bear to weight of all your falsehoods and desperate attempts at inner strength one moment longer, sent your tears scattering down the front of your hospital gown. Your mother snapped her mouth shut, completely taken aback by the abrupt shift in your mood, before she collected a wad of scratchy hospital tissues and tenderly wiped at your eyes.

“There now, I know. It’s been a tremendous effort, and things are very difficult.” She soothed and cradled your head to her breast, rubbing your back softly.

Despite becoming a mother yourself not a full hour ago, it seemed you were still very much in need of one yourself.

“What if he doesn’t want me, mama?” You gulped and looked up to her pathetically as you finally gave voice to perhaps the greatest fear that had been stalking you since the realization that you were pregnant had come crashing down upon you. “We’re not even…it’s not even real…” Your eyes dropped to the false engagement ring that mockingly glinted up at you from your left hand.

She sighed deeply before her hands grasped your face and forced your gaze to meet hers. “Well, pumpkin, I’d say that a man who writes to you despite the difficulties is one of the good ones. And usually it’s the good ones that do the right things.”

You frowned and shook your head slightly, as much as her tight grip would allow. “But I don’t want him to do the right thing. I want him to marry me because he wants to…”

There was another maternal sigh before you were gathered close in her arms once more. “Let’s hope for the best then. I’ll get Felix from down the street to bring his camera. We’ll send a photo of sweet Clara Mae and see if she can’t work her magic on him.”

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The Allied invasion of Western Europe had felt like a gift from above, flooding Bucky’s life with a new sense of purpose, and shattering the grim monotony that had calcified everything around him. The gnawing hunger, the biting cold, the evasiveness in your letters, the constant worry and uncertainty he felt for both himself and you. There was surely only one explanation, at least only one rational, sane explanation for your early discharge. But he’d had far too much time on his hands to postulate and theorize all manner of possibilities and their catastrophic outcomes.

June 6 had brought an abrupt and decisive end to that, a sharp divide to their life in camp, and a need for preparations now that the Commonwealth forces were closing in from one side and the Russians from the other. It was early September when he received your life changing letter, two small photos tucked securely between your folded, scented pages. One of you, looking so very beautiful it made his heart ache fondly. And the second of a very tiny infant with remarkably familiar ears.

He huffed fondly and turned back to the letter to read it properly as you finally confirmed what he had long suspected.

Shaking the envelope once more produced a square of paper with the stamp of his daughter’s – his daughter’s – footprints on it.

Cradling it in one palm, he could not help but gawk at the small scale of her. She must be truly tiny…only 20 inches.

“Your girl finally explain herself?” Buck leaned over his shoulder, and he nodded, holding up Clara’s photo.

His friend barely contained a snort and Bucky scoffed in return. “I know – poor girl’s got my damn Dumbo ears. Couldn’t even deny she’s mine if I wanted to.”

“She’s beautiful anyway, despite your influence.” Buck smirked and handed the photo back carefully. “Congratulations. What’s her name?”

“Clara Mae.” An involuntary grin of pleasure overtook him as he said it, quite enjoying the way it sounded. You had picked well.

“Your girl did an excellent job. Be sure you tell her so.”

“You know I will.” He replied with a firm nod.

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The twelve weeks it took to hear from Bucky were both a blur and an agony. Clara did her utmost to keep the household, and you in particular, thoroughly occupied. You were somewhat relieved that your parents were sleeping on a different floor than her, that it gave you a chance to dart across the hall and mollify her discordant wails with a fresh diaper or a feeding. But on those nights when even you could not seem to sort out what ailed her, your father stepped in and patiently walked her up and down the length of the porch until she melted into the crook of his arm.

Truly, for such a small being, she had the entirety of her grandfather wrapped around her littlest finger. Clara was the first he greeted upon returning home from work and the last he kissed goodnight. None of this would have been possible without his willing arms, nor your mother’s endless wisdom when it came to washing bottles and diapers and Clara’s vast wardrobe of tiny clothing. But in the quiet moments, when she was busily suckling in your arms or just as you were falling asleep, your thoughts would always fly across the Atlantic to barbwire fences and Bucky.

You hoped your letter reached had him. You hoped it had all of its contents still, that none of them had been lost while being reviewed by the censors and whomever else pried into your mail. His reaction? Well you could not even dare to hope what that might be. It would cause your entire body to tense almost painfully and prevent your lungs from filling with air.

Every day you did your best not to look too eagerly as the postman delivered the mail, flipping through the envelopes calmly, hiding your disappointment when his reply was not there. Your agony came to an end, at last, in mid-October. Hearing your soft gasp, your mother offered to take Clara on her morning walk – it was generous to be sure, but you were also more than aware that she enjoyed the attention warranted by pushing the gorgeous girl through the neighborhood in her pram.

Settling down at the kitchen table once they had left, you sliced open the envelope anxiously.

Tears of relief were tracking down your cheeks by the time you reached the end of his letter, making it difficult to read his words clearly. He had replied. He was not angry, nor dismissive. He called himself Clara’s father. And there was an oblique, very Bucky-like proposal in there. Your watery laugh echoed in the empty kitchen before you sniffled in a very unladylike way. God, you missed him so very much. By the time your mother and Clara returned, your tears of relief had been replaced by sobs of longing that had her tiptoeing through the house, deeply concerned his letter had been one of rejection.

Looking up at her apprehensive face as she peered through the doorway, you smiled through your pain and nodded. “It’s good news.”

“Oh, well…good.” She gave you a somewhat bewildered smile and found a handkerchief for you to once more clean yourself up before you gathered Clara close.

“Your daddy says he loves you, peanut. What do you think of that?”

Clara’s face stretched into one of her toothless grins that came just as easy as Bucky’s did, and you fought the urge to cry again. “Yeah…me too.”

Your reply to Bucky’s letter was accompanied by a holiday card fingerpainted by Clara, now that you were confident in the mailing time of roughly six-weeks, as well as another set of dry goods for him to share with his friends. Time continued to march on and in an effort to better document Clara’s rapid growth, you purchased a user-friendly camera, having Felix give you some lessons.

Mid-January, Clara received a gift from her father – a stunning ink drawing of him done by one of his roommates apparently. It had been over a year since you had looked upon his face and the breathtaking detail captured by the man who drew it, A. Jefferson based on the signature, inflicted an intense barrage of memories. You promptly went to a five-and-dime store to purchase a frame for it, setting it on the dresser in Clara’s room next to a model of a B17. You made a point of showing it to her every day, telling her stories about her daddy – only the appropriate ones of course, wanting her to know him.

That it was also self-soothing was simply a bonus.

That letter was the last one you received from him. As Clara’s features sharpened into Bucky’s, and his dark curls framed her face, it was his gaze staring up at you from your arms as the weeks ticked by with no word. When the abnormally harsh winter yielded to spring once more, there was still no reply to your January letter. The war was all but won, the Germans quite literally surrounded, the Russians in Germany and yet there was nothing.

It was mid-April when the dreaded Western Union vehicle pulled up in front of the house, your heart leaping into your throat.

‘Please let him be alright.’

Your mother had been in the kitchen, working on lunch, but silently appeared at your elbow, ghosts of her own heartbreak etching her features.

“Deep breaths. Anybody can send a telegram, not just the War Department.” She murmured and knelt down beside Clara on the rug to play with her as you forced your leaden feet to move towards the door.

Accepting the yellow envelope from the infuriatingly neutral-faced boy, you confirmed that it was indeed addressed to you before impatiently tearing into it.

Exhaling shakily you smiled in relief. Major Cleven must have escaped. That he would have spent the money to send a telegram to update you on Bucky, and to share a message from the man himself, was quite moving. You could not help the chuckle that escaped you, however, at the fact that this was twice now that Cleven had terrified you in the process of trying to share good news.

“All is well?” Your mother asked softly from the living room, and you turned quickly with a smile.

“Yes, he’s ok, his friend somehow made it back to England and wanted me to know he’s doing alright.”

The smile she gave you in return contained no small amount of relief.

The Russians were in Berlin by the next time Western Union made its second delivery at the beginning of May.

‘Please, when we are so very close to victory, please.’

Even less patient with this envelope than the last, you felt a swell of elation at just the first word.

And he meant it. It was not entirely as soon as either of you would have liked, given that Victory in Europe happened not a week after that telegram, on May 8, 1945, but Bucky certainly did come to you and Clara as soon as it was possible.

It was a hot afternoon in early July, the wind having abandoned everyone when the sun rose that morning. Clara was in a bit of a mood courtesy of the heat and her desire to move about the house independently. Certainly, she had been crawling for months, terrorizing everything and everyone in her path, but as of late she had been pulling herself to her feet and trying desperately to take those first few wobbly steps towards upright freedom. She certainly could manage it while gripping tightly to your fingers for balance, but today her chubby cheeks and granite eyes were screwed tight in consternation as she swatted your hands away to go it alone.

“Alright peanut, off you go then.” You smiled encouragingly, sitting back on your heels as beads of sweat gathered at the nape of your neck.

Letting go of the edge of the coffee table, she wavered and wobbled, overcorrecting her round little infant body before landing heavily onto her bottom with a squawk of frustration.

“So close, so–”

The rapping of knuckles against the wooden frame of the screen door cut off your statement and you scooped her up, perching her against your right hip as you rose to your feet.

“Let’s go see if that’s the postman with Grandma’s package, shall we?” You smiled and tickled her soft tummy with your free hand, earning a giggle accompanied by her gap-toothed grin as you headed over to the front door.

The man standing there in uniform was most certainly not the postman, however.

“Bucky…” You whispered in shock as he stood before you, in the flesh, after nearly two years of constant worry and concern.

All that separated you now was a flimsy screen door, which you lurched forward to shove open. His eyes were wide as he stared at the pair of you, Clara peering at him curiously. The movement of your left hand caught his eye and his brow furrowed as his gaze landed on the ring you had been hiding behind since April of last year, making you swallow painfully.

“It’s not real.” You murmured quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong impression, and stepped back to invite him inside.

The sound of his bag hitting the floor was all the warning you had before he was pulling you tightly against him, burying his face into your hair. Pressing your face against him in return, you clung to the back of his uniform jacket, wondering if he had always smelled this good or if he had bought new cologne since returning stateside. A sudden strangled sound came from his throat, and you straightened quickly to see Clara had a ruthless grip on his tie and a wicked grin on her face.

“Ta.” You said firmly, holding out your hand and she surrendered her stranglehold on the piece of fabric which you carefully tucked back into his jacket.

Bucky smirked down at her slightly, but his eyes were filled with barely concealed wonder. Clara, for her part, did not seem the least bit fazed by him whatsoever. Her chubby little fingers moved to trace the shiny buttons of his jacket before stretching up to brush along the coarse hair on his upper lip.

“You like my mustache, Miss Clara?” He grinned and pretended to devour her finger as it strayed too close to his mouth, sending his daughter into a fit of giggles and making your cheeks ache from smiling so wide.

An involuntary yawn suddenly overtook her, and you glanced at your watch, nodding as the time confirmed your suspicions. “It’s nap time, I’ll just take her upstairs.”

“Can I come?” He asked softly, making no move to release his hold on you and you nodded quickly, pressing your lips to his cheek softly before leading him to the stairwell at the back of the house.

“This place looks exactly how you described it…” He murmured softly, threading his fingers through yours as he followed.

Looking back to him, startled, you swallowed down the swell of emotion that had been threatening since you had first laid eyes on him. “I told you about it once, in that…hotel room in London…almost two years ago.”

“And I’ve imagined it almost every day since.” He assured you easily as you climbed the stairs, making you shake your head in awe.

Glancing through the open door into your room curiously for a moment, he followed you into Clara’s nursery, grinning softly as his eyes landed on the drawing he had sent.

“You gave it to her.”

Setting Clara into her crib, you turned back to him. “We talk about you every day.”

Bucky’s eyes met yours and he smiled gratefully before reaching out for your left hand, his thumb stroking along the band of the ring there.

“You know, this isn’t very believable, doll.” He muttered and you felt yourself tense as you eyed him, suddenly nervous in his presence after all those months apart. You had been separated longer than you had even known one another. “I’d have bought you a much bigger rock.” His lips curled into a smirk.

Laughter, something that felt so foreign to you after its long absence, bubbled up from your chest while tears simultaneously flooded your eyes. His hands cradled your face as his lips met yours at last, the kiss distinctly salty despite the best efforts of his thumbs to swipe your tears away. Laying your hands atop his, it began to sink in that he was really home, he had truly made it back to you. And Clara. There was no more need for constant fretting and pleading mantras. He was here.

“In fact I did.” His statement, a continuation of his discussion about your fake engagement ring, felt disorienting as it interrupted your inner musings, and you watched in confusion as he sunk to one knee right there in Clara’s bedroom, slipping the piece of costume jewellery from your ring finger before tucking it one of his pockets.

It was not until he produced a much shinier ring, with a larger and very real diamond, that you registered just what was happening. He addressed you properly, by your full name, before asking the question.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Yes of course I will.” You nodded vigorously, watching him clumsily slide the heavier ring onto your finger before his mouth was on yours once more, demanding and possessive.

Pressing against him, you would have completely forgotten yourself if not for the sound of your mother calling your name from the bottom of the stairs, tone laced with confusion and worry – surely from finding the front door open and a piece of strange luggage in the front hall. Bucky pulled his lips back and pressed his forehead to yours, hot puffs of his breath caressing your face.

“Parents’ house…”

You let out a small laugh of chagrin. “Parents’ house.” You confirmed before pulling back and guiding him out, leaving the door slightly cracked so you would hear when Clara awoke.

Miraculously she had slept through the entire exchange, a superpower she had surely inherited from her father. Descending the stairs, introductions were made, and you did not miss the way you mother’s eyes lit up as she took in the new ring on your finger. Your father was slightly more difficult to win over, still smarting from the perceived mistreatment of his little girl. You were more than a little convinced he might be taking Bucky to the toolshed to shoot him when he asked for the man to accompany him out there for a chat after dinner.

Your aggressive scrubbing of the dishes in the sink as you watched anxiously out the window amused your mother to no end.

“He’s just ensuring Major Egan has your best interests in mind.”

“He’s not gonna kill him, is he, mama?” You worried your lip and she laughed, wiping Clara’s sticky fingers clean after her joyful decimation of a bowl of sliced strawberries.

“He will do no such thing.”

By some miracle, the pair of them immerged unscathed twenty minutes later, shaking hands and sharing a laugh. You rediscovered the ability to exhale and prepared Clara for her evening walk, which Bucky insisted on joining. Even though you assured him you had a perfectly good pram, gestured to where it sat on the front porch, he insisted on carrying Clara on his hip, much to her delight.

Not only was the vantage point much better, but she had unfettered access to all the intriguing bits of his uniform to occupy herself with as the pair of you followed the usual route around the neighborhood. While no one had taken it upon themselves to be overtly rude to you, something about seeing all six foot two inches of Major John Egan carrying his carbon-copy daughter with you on his other arm seemed to go a long way to repairing your somewhat tarnished reputation around town.

People who had politely nodded or offered no more than tight-lipped smiles were now openly waving and calling greetings as you passed.

“Sure are popular around here, doll.”

“I assure you, it’s the pair of you.” You smirked at him and Clara who was busily tugging at the flap of his breast pocket. “Everything alright after your visit to the toolshed?” You asked now that you were far enough away from the house that your father would not hear.

He nodded easily. “Your father and I are of like minds. You and I are going to the registrar’s office tomorrow to get a marriage licence and then we’ll get this little one’s birth certificate sorted as well.”

“He wasn’t…too harsh on you?” You asked with more than a little trepidation.

Bucky looked to you softly. “No more than I deserved.”

“You deserved no harshness, we both know full well how this happened…”

“I sure didn’t stop you. Couldn’t have, even if I had been able to think straight.” He smirked and kissed your temple. “So we did it out of order, that’s fine. It’ll all be how it was meant to very soon.”

Sighing fondly you continued your progress until Clara was slumped against his shoulder, barely able to keep her eyes open. By the time you returned to the house, your mother had set up a small camp bed in the nursery for you and moved Bucky’s things to your room for the night – everyone agreed there was no way he could possibly be expected to sleep on the sofa. He was simply too long. Wishing one another good night in the hallway with a lingering kiss, you pressed your lips together as your mother cleared her throat expectantly from the landing below and slipped into the nursery for the night.

It was difficult to say how long you had been asleep when a faint noise, your ears now well trained to listen out for the smallest of disturbances, woke you. It was most definitely still dark when you raised your head, immediately looking to the crib to see Clara sleeping peacefully on her stomach, index and middle fingers of her right hand suckled soothingly by her full lips. Shifting your gaze in the dimly lit room, you jumped slightly to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe, clad in his boxers and undershirt, silently watching her sleep, expression pensive.

Sliding to your feet as gracefully as the low bed and your thin cotton nightgown would allow, you padded over to him quietly to whisper, “everything ok?”

“She’s just so small…” He replied in a hushed voice, gesturing with his hands, eyes still fixed on Clara’s sleeping form, and you smiled fondly.

Reaching out, you gently manipulated the distance between his palms to represent how small she had been as a newborn. “She was only that big a year ago.”

His eyes tore from the crib to study the small gap between his hands before lifting slightly to drink in how little you were wearing, how thin the material was to try and make sleeping in the summer months bearable. His eyes briefly flicked to yours, revealing the rapid dilation of his pupils before his mouth descended onto yours ravenously.

Sliding one arm around his waist, you pressed with the other against the centre of his chest to guide him back across the hall, closing the door to your bedroom behind you as you quickly surrendered and parted your lips for him. He grunted eagerly, pressing his fully hard length against you through the thin barrier of your clothes, making you gasp at the rapidity of his response.

“The damn sheets smell like you, I’ve been hard all night.” He groaned and you quickly smothered his mouth with yours, well aware just how loud he tended to get.

If you were lucky enough to get away with this, you were going to have to be as quiet as possible.

Rucking the hem of your nightgown up over your hips, he pivoted to deposit you onto the edge of the bed, settling between your thighs as you worked one another’s underwear off. Pressing skin to skin, his head fell back, and you quickly slid your palm over his mouth to smother his eager sighs, rocking your folds along the length of him as you gnawed on your lips and swallowed your own keens. Bucky’s eyes bored into yours hungrily as he mirrored your movements, almost daring you to keep quiet as he continued to moan against your hand.

Silence became impossible for you too as the blunt tip of his cock snagged on your entrance and he rocked his hips forward, slowly sinking into your warmth. Falling back onto the mattress, you slapped the hand that had previously been propping you upright over your own mouth to smother your eager groan as your eyelids fluttered in the struggle to remain open. Shifting forward once he had settled fully inside you, Bucky’s face hovered just above yours, eyes still pinning yours as he began the eager push and pull towards ecstasy.

Desperately trying to keep your hands in place over your mouth and his, your back arched at the long forgotten and very heightened sensation of being so very stretched by him, trembling with each brush of his pelvis against your sensitive bundle of nerves. His hands planted onto the mattress on either side of your head, fisting into the sheets as his hips snapped demandingly into yours, each sharp exhale from his nostrils cascading across your knuckles as you felt the tension building within you.

Sweat glistened on both of your skin, the efforts in the lingering heat of the night only making you both slick as you writhed beneath him, heart hammering inside your ribcage. And still his eyes would not leave yours. The one time you gave into the urge to clench them shut, he sent them flying open once more with a sharp nip to the meat of your palm and you quickly wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him closer, deeper.

You could feel him clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth, desperately driving into you until your body shattered in release, nearly going limp with the force of it. Bucky nestled his face tighter to your palm as, with two more erratic thrusts, he followed suit with a harsh cry, thankfully still smothered. Slumping forward, utterly spent, you cradled him close a moment before shuffling and maneuvering to rest against the headboard with him properly nuzzled against your neck, and his legs mostly on the bed.

Stroking his hair lovingly, every so often scratching your nails along his scalp, you could not help the fond smile as his harsh breaths evened out and the weight of him grew heavier against you when sleep overtook him. Sighing softly, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to join him in rest.

The next time you opened them you were alone, tucked beneath the sheet, the soft light of dawn filling the room. The distinct sound of Clara’s giggles carried from across the hall, and you sat up, grabbing your summer housecoat and peered into the nursery to find the pair of them perched on the camp bed engaged in a very entertaining game of wooden blocks it seemed. Bucky had retrieved the model of the B17 from the dresser and was frequently swooping it down to destroy whatever Clara’s clumsy little hands built, much to her delight.

“Ah, Mommy’s up.” Bucky’s statement revealed that you had been caught and you smirked, stepping into the room to kneel on the carpet beside them. “Did we wake you?”

Shaking your head softly, you kissed Clara’s head and then Bucky’s cheek. “Did she wake you, though?”

He shrugged. “Probably my turn anyway.”

You smiled tenderly, laughing as Clara clutched at his arm to demonstrate that she had assembled a new construction in need of his attention. Watching fondly, you blinked slightly to see a new addition to the dog tags, crucifix, and medal that he normally wore. Amidst the collection was now the faux engagement ring you had sported for over a year. Reaching out, you traced your finger along it, raising an eyebrow in silent question as his eyes met yours.

“To remind me of that time I was overly reckless.” He murmured and you swallowed painfully, pressing your lips to his firmly.

Sliding his arm around your waist, he pulled you snuggly into his side, continuing to entertain Clara easily.

“We’ll get the licence today but, what kind of wedding would you like, doll?” He asked quietly.

“Just a date at the courthouse is fine.” You assured him with a nod.

“You don’t want a big wedding or anything? Honestly doll, anything you want and it’s yours.” He assured you softly.

You laughed watching your daughter gnaw on the corner of a wooden block. “Seems a bit hypocritical to put me a white gown don’t you think?” You smirked and shook your head when he looked ready to defend your honor. “I don’t need all those fancy things John, I just need you.”

When he finally came up for air, your lips more than a little swollen from his attentions, he huffed a laugh.

“Not sure what I’m going to do with the parachute I smuggled home now, though…”

“Well, Major Cleven’s getting married soon, isn’t he? I’m sure Marge would appreciate it. She seems lovely from the letters we’ve exchanged.”

He turned to you wide-eyed, struck silent, and you could not help but laugh. “Never underestimate the ingenuity of women, John.”

Bucky shook his head in awe. “Trust me, doll…I would never be so foolish as to underestimate you.”

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

"Trust" Series Masterlist

Tag list: @gretagerwigsmuse, @precious-little-scoundrel, @rubyfruitjungle, @storysimp, @mads-weasley, @xxanaduwrites, @bcon24, @fxxiva, @slowsweetlove, @hockeyboysarehot, @darylas, @carpediem1219, @blueberry-ovaries

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john egan imagine #john egan fic #john egan #john bucky egan #mota fic #masters of the air fanfic

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princessaxoxo · 3 months

Text

⟡₊ ⊹ 𝒶 𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ ℴ𝒻 𝓈𝓊𝑔𝒶𝓇: 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝐼𝐼 ⟡₊ ⊹

sugar daddy!henry cavill x burlesque dancer!curvy reader

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

❥ 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: an enticing encounter at a burlesque club leads to an interesting offer.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

❥ 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: After surprising you with a day out, Henry takes you out for an enjoyable evening and goes to watch you dance.

❥ 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 18+, teasing, flirting, kissing, vulgar language, lil bit of fluff

❥ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.5k+

❥ 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

Not long after your lunch with Henry, he requested your address for Thursday evening. At first, you were skeptical, but after your agreement with Henry and agreeing to go out with him, you happily obliged.

Unexpectedly, he gave you a call the day before your night out with him, asking if he could drop by. As this was all new to you, you nervously stuttered out a yes. After ending the call, you looked down at the outfit you were wearing; it wasn’t special, as you planned to stay in and figure out what to wear for tomorrow.

Along with your worn-out college t-shirt and bootcut leggings, your hair looked a little unkempt. In what seemed like a very short amount of time, you quickly combed out your hair and styled it as cutely as you could. After going through your closet, you chose a pair of pants that accentuated your posterior and a tight blue v-neck top.

Before you knew it, you heard a car pull into your driveway, and as you peered out your window, Henry was getting out of his car. Not long after the doorbell rang, you walked to the mirror for one final check to make sure you looked decent before going downstairs to open your front door.

"Good morning," he said with a smile, and you smiled back. "I wanted to come by and ask if you had a gown for tomorrow night already."

When you embarrassingly told him no, he said, "Let's go buy you one then, wherever you decide."

Anywhere you decide? That might include a thousand shops—places you never would have imagined yourself able to shop for clothing. Naturally, you replied okay and asked him to stay inside for a little while so you could finish getting dressed and go.

After putting his hand on your lower back and guiding you into his vehicle, Henry proceeded to his side to get in the car. "Which store do you want to go to?" Since he was more than prepared to spend money on you for what you desired, you reasoned with yourself: Here is your chance. You mentioned the most expensive store you've wanted to visit for a very long time, without hesitation. "Perfect," he stated simply.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

As Henry opened the door for you and you walked in, you became overwhelmed. Inside were white walls with marble flooring and shelves lined with purses that were arranged one after the other. Little round tables with decorations were positioned in the center. As you proceeded farther inside the shop, you noticed that the jewelry was housed in cases on the opposite side, right across from the purses.

Someone from the staff approached you and asked if you needed assistance. Saying nothing more than "a new dress," you were led by her to the recently arrived dresses. How could you choose just one? You wondered, because they were all so beautiful.

There were several colored heels arranged next to the dresses.

The associate added, "Just let me know if you need any help," and turned to go.

Henry asked whether you spotted anything you liked as you looked over the different gowns. Honestly, there were a lot of items you liked. Saying "yes," you started choosing the gowns that most appealed to you. Henry would always get the item for you when you went to grab it.

You had selected four gowns and were prepared to try them on. Gorgeous shades of pink, burgundy, gold, and silver. One by one, you were finding it quite difficult to choose. Henry was waiting for you as you emerged from the dressing room.

"Which one have you chosen?" You sighed in response to Henry's question. "I couldn't decide."

With a confused look on his face, he asked where the dresses you picked out were. As you pointed at the associate, he walked directly toward them. You weren’t sure the words exchanged between the two, but he came back with all four of the dresses you selected. “Have you had the chance to look at the accessories and shoes yet?”

When you told him no, he got an associate to show you the best accessories and shoes in the store.

Once more, it was difficult to decide what you wanted. You chose from a plethora of different colored heels. Regarding the black pair you were wearing at the time, you questioned the associate, "What do you think?" She said the heels looked great right away, so you didn't really believe her.

It occurred to you; perhaps you should get Henry's input. As you turned to face him again, you noticed that he was already looking at you. He began walking toward you when you made a signal for him to come closer.

“How do they look?” Fortunately, you had previously gone and had your toes done. If you hadn't, you would be self-conscious about how they looked. He briefly looked at the shoes before returning his gaze to you and staring at you for a little while longer. "Unable to decide?" You chuckled at his question. "Basically."

"Black." With his eyes fixed on yours, he declared, "I favor the black heels the most."

"Take every pair of heels to the front as well," he stated, turning to face the associate.

There was a part of you that started to feel guilty because this was undoubtedly over a thousand dollars. "I want you to look at the accessories and jewelry."

At first glance, you were drawn to a set of silver drop earrings and knew you just had to have them. As you browsed the accessories, you noticed that the long mesh burgundy gloves would go perfectly with the burgundy dress.

The moment Henry saw that you were interested in the burgundy gloves, he turned back to the matching dress. And it occurred to him that he needed to purchase a tie that complemented your attire.

When you were done and came back to him, he led you to the register, where you were shocked to see him pay for the outfits, shoes, and accessories. "What made you do that?" you questioned. "Since you were unable to choose, I want you to have them all."

"Thank you, Henry."

At the sound of his name falling from your lips, it sounded angelic. He realized he wanted to hear you say his name as he pounded into you.

It was becoming more difficult by the moment for him to keep his composure while staring at you. "Baby doll, you really need to get used to this."

A blush emerged, and the two of you started to exit the shop.

With his hands full of your belongings, he still managed to hold the door open for you. Henry didn’t want the day to end just yet. "Would you like to have lunch? I know this restaurant right down the street." Lunch did seem appealing because you realized you hadn't eaten anything yet. "Yes, lunch sounds great."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

On the morning of your date with Henry, you were nervous and excited. You went about your morning as normal, but from the moment you woke up until it was time to start getting dressed, butterflies had been swarming around in your stomach. You had made the decision to curl your hair in waves as you started getting ready early.

Luckily, your hair behaved itself and looked fantastic. Once your hair was done, you started applying makeup. You wanted to avoid going for an overly dramatic look since you chose the burgundy dress. It would look nice to go with a neutral look, adding eyeliner, and wear matching burgundy lips.

With every step of your makeup routine, you took your time.

Once you were done, you unhung your dress and slipped into it, doing your hardest to shimmy it past your posterior and thighs until it was fully up and you could get your arms through the straps.

It was ten minutes to six when you looked at your clock and realized how quickly the time had gone by. Quickly adding the lengthy drop silver earrings, you quickly slipped your hands into the long mesh gloves and placed your feet into the black six-inch heels.

A knock at your front door caught your attention as you were taking one last glance in the mirror before reaching for your purse.

After taking a deep breath to ease your nerves, you exited your room to go and greet Henry.

Henry was taken aback when he saw you. He was at a loss for words. In every aspect, you looked stunning. After that, he was drawn to the way your body fit into the dress, your curves, and the way your breasts were perfectly pushed up. He wanted to hold both of them in his hands and kiss each nipple, expressing his desire for both.

"Shall we?" Henry asked, holding out his hand for you to take. Putting your hand in his, you said, "Yes."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Henry guided you into the restaurant with his hand on your lower back. The interior was magnificent. A light blue hue with clouds was painted on the ceiling. The restaurant featured gold round tables arranged around the room, with a chandelier suspended in the center of the space. Every table had champagne glasses, and the entire restaurant was filled with the sound of a soft but beautiful melody.

Henry was conversing with the hostess as you were preoccupied with examining the restaurant. You were soon drawn away from your attention at the restaurant by the sound of his breath close to your ear. "Let’s go."

Henry walked behind you until you arrived at the table together. He stopped and pulled your seat out for you. "Thank you."

Henry asked for wine, and it was brought right away to the table.

He had his hair slicked back and his beard freshly trimmed. A blush and a chuckle appeared as you glanced over his gray suit and noticed that his tie matched your outfit. "My dress and your tie match."

He stated, "I know, I planned on it," without lowering his gaze from where it was fixed on you. "I saw your interest in these and knew you would wear the burgundy dress," he continued, taking hold of your left hand.

You thought to yourself, Did he really pay that much attention? That would have gone unnoticed by most. You also didn't expect he would give you such meticulous attention simply because he was your sugar daddy.

"You look absolutely beautiful, if I hadn't said it already tonight," Henry went on to say.

A blush appeared; it seemed that each time he spoke to you, he made you blush, and you were growing to love it.

"You look handsome, and thank you."

Similar to the first time, you both settled into a comfortable conversion. You soon realized that perhaps you shouldn't have worn the gloves when dinner arrived, but Henry grasped your hands and asked, "May I?" After you nodded, he took off your gloves and planted a kiss on your hand.

Heated waves from his kiss penetrated your entire body. And you thanked him breathlessly.

It was not what he had purchased you or where he had taken you that brought you fulfillment, but rather the fact that everything between you two felt natural. Something you hadn't experienced before.

Your curiosity was piqued by the suggestion, "There is a bar outside that overlooks the city if you'd like to go see it," and you enthusiastically agreed, albeit a little tipsy.

He was closer this time, his body against your back, unlike before.

As soon as you two got there, he led you up to the railing, and you gasped at the view of the city. You began to intentionally rub your ass against him, still feeling the heat of his body behind you.

Henry's slacks tightened as his cock hardened, and he leaned forward. "Are you happy with this view?" Henry sensed you rubbing your ass against him once again as you said, "Yes, it's breathtaking."

Henry whispered, "Yes, it is," as he looked at you. Then you felt his lips lingering over your neck and your hair being pushed to the side. You spun around and gave him a glance. You wanted to feel the softness of his lips against yours.

"Kiss me," you said.

The kiss was hungry; you hadn't even realized that you'd been driving him wild the whole night. As he started to lick along your neck and suck on your sweet spot, his hand gripped one of your breasts. Tiny whimpers began to escape your mouth.

Henry and your attention were diverted as someone suddenly cleared their throat. "I apologize, but you aren't allowed to do that here." Henry and you both began to laugh at the employee’s comment.

He nodded in agreement as you said, "I think we should go."

As you were on your front porch, laughing and nodding your head, trying to remove your lipstick from his face, Henry stated, "I'll be in touch, and if you need anything, call me," before he planted a final kiss on your cheek and turned to leave.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

"Okay, sugar, it’s fixed; now hurry and get your pretty self into it.” The seamstress at the club rushed you to the dressing room. The diamond one piece that you were wearing tonight for your performance accentuated your curves; it was also paired with a diamond garter belt and shimmer stockings.

As you walked out, Natasha walked up to you, saying, “You have a visitor."

Noticing Henry waiting for you, you walked up to him. "Hey, why are you back here?" you asked as there were a million girls rushing trying to get ready for the show tonight.

"I have something for you," In his hands was a velvet box, which he opened to reveal a diamond necklace. Grinning, you asked, "Are you going to put it on me or keep it in there?" He instructed you to turn around without hesitation, and then he quickly attached the diamond necklace behind your neck.

It'd only been a couple of weeks since that first date night with Henry and you grew accustomed to him giving you allowances and occasionally surprising you with expensive gifts.

"Are you going to stay?" Leaning forward, you pressed your hands to his chest. "I will be upfront, of course." Henry walked out to take his seat as your name was called to come on stage.

Henry took his promised seat in the front row as "Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend" began to play. The way you wore the diamond necklace he proudly bought you drove him crazy, and he wanted to be in the greatest spot to watch you perform.

His mind started to drift to the way the necklace would appear around your neck while you bounced on his cock.

You moved to the front of the stage so that he could see you teasingly shake your ass in front of him. As your relationship developed, it became more playful and flirtatious, and you relished watching him get worked up over you.

After the performance Henry met with you again, telling you, “Baby doll, start packing your favorite clothes and bikinis. I'm taking you on a trip to greece.”

˚₊⭑‧꒰ა [Tag list] ໒꒱ ‧₊⭑˚

@shellyshellshell @armystay89 @angelcavill66 @ellethespaceunicorn @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @caramariehurst @bbcoraline @identity2212 @plaidcat4815 @luxeydior @beck07990 @kittymiaow @kingliam2019 @chloe92 @nighttimestan @juliaorpll78 @ktficworld @milknhonies @toooldforobsessions @secretdream2 @pono-pura-vida

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oliversrarebooks · 4 months

Text

The Rare Bookseller Part 34: Fitz's Curtain Call

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June 1905

TW: mind control, captivity

"So here's how I see it, sir," said Fitz, walking down the hallway of the auction house alongside Miss Lily. "You want money, a motivation I'm well equipped to understand. I want an easy life with a rich, soft-hearted vampire. Putting aside the part where you kidnapped and brainwashed me, our interests align."

"They do indeed," said Miss Lily with a wicked grin. "I'm so glad you turned out to be so very reasonable."

Fitz, of course, was trying to cover up his terror with bluster, a technique he had honed very well over years of confidence schemes. He could feel the tug of the vampire thrall, feel it dampening his urges to escape or resist, feel it lulling his mind into submission. And it felt good, that was the worst part about it -- so easy to let his mind drift away from him, to dream about his newfound desire for fangs to sink deep in his neck. That particular fantasy was hard to deny, something akin to hunger or lust, filling his all too eager thoughts with the image of offering himself, and --

Shit. He had to stay focused. God damn these annoying, powerful, sexy, desirable vampires.

The enthrallment he'd been placed under hadn't done enough for his nerves. He still felt like he did the night before a big opening. Normally, the danger of an audience not liking him was that he'd be going hungry. Now, the danger was much, much more acute.

"Penny for your thoughts?" said Miss Lily, ruffling his hair. "You think too much for a thrall."

"Yes, the blessing and the curse you've afforded me," he said. "...Not that I'm complaining about the spell I'm under. Sir." He was fairly certain he still had something like wit to his name, and didn't want to encourage Miss Lily to change her mind on that point.

"So then, what are you thinking about?"

"The preparations for your little vampire soiree, sir," he said. "I was hoping I'd get a chance to take a shower and comb my hair. After all, it might be my final curtain call."

"So dramatic." Miss Lily laughed. Well, easy for her to do when she wasn't the one being sold. "Don't worry, you have an appointment with our chief stylist."

Fitz's eyes narrowed. He watched as a vampire led a group of empty-eyed thralls down the hall, all of them dressed in simple linens and looking like they hadn't been washed in days. "Are you serious about having a chief stylist, or are you pulling my leg, sir?"

"Oh, I'm very serious. I told you several times that you're prize merchandise."

"Lovely. So how does one style prize merchandise for vampires, sir? Am I going to be trussed up and placed on a silver platter, with an apple in my mouth for garnish?"

"No."

"Of course not, the platter wouldn't be silver. Gold, then, sir."

"It's actually traditional for high quality thralls to be put in fancy ball dress to be sold off."

"Well, you're in great luck, sir. Despite my intimidating masculinity, I actually pull off a dress very well." He was speaking from experience on this, as he'd had to wear all sorts of women's costumes for various theatrical and hiding-from-cops reasons. "They're all very low cut, I assume, to better show off the neck?"

"Oh, you do catch on quickly."

Miss Lily showed him in to a large, sumptuous dressing room, the kind that would be the envy of any of the small-time theaters he'd performed in. There was an impressively formidable vanity covered in all sorts of makeup, some of it very expensive-looking, but what really caught Fitz's eye were the racks of elaborate ball gowns. Miss Lily certainly wasn't pulling his leg about that particular detail.

"Hello, Florence!" said Miss Lily with the cheer of a woman who was about to have a very lucrative evening. "I've brought my special project for you!"

"Special project indeed," said the older woman, scrutinizing Fitz with a practiced eye like a jeweler appraising a stone. "Well, he's handsome, at least."

"Oh, you've got a good eye," said Fitz with a grin. "It's vitally important that I'm dressed to impress, sir, and I want to accentuate my finer points, of which I have many. Whatever will make me irresistible to Miss Lily's friend with the deep pockets."

Miss Florence's eyebrow lifted. "This is the thrall you're preparing for Alexander?"

"Alexander keeps telling me he wants a companion thrall, one who reads and plays instruments. He hates the recent trend of meek and muted thralls," said Lily. "Fitz here is very much the opposite."

"Exactly, sir," said Fitz, strangely eager to please these vampires, launching into his little spiel. "I can read, I can play guitar, I can do magic tricks, I can do real magic if you give me enough preparation time, I can tell your future, I can juggle oranges, I can wash windows, bake bread, mend fences, sew, and I play a mean game of poker. Plus, the handsome face, of course."

"Oh, my dear sweet devil. Be quiet, young man," said Miss Florence, placing her hand on his head, and suddenly he felt a deep compulsion to follow her command and stay perfectly still. She was looking him over more closely now. "He's far more charming when he shuts his mouth."

"They say that about me, too," said Miss Lily. "Perhaps that's why we get on so well."

Fitz couldn't help the small laugh that escaped him. He did respect Miss Lily, in a way, apart from the thrall that was placed on him. She played a good con game, and judging by the sheer expense of the outfit she had on tonight, she was raking in the cold, hard cash. Selling people for money was several bridges too far for him, but in another life where she weren't a vampire and had at least a faint impression of a moral compass, they could've gotten along.

"Anyway, I'll leave him in your capable hands," said Miss Lily. "Despite his talkative streak, you have absolutely nothing to fear from him in terms of obedience. He's a pushover to any kind of thrall, or even simply praise and flattery."

And any good thoughts about Miss Lily evaporated, as Fitz scowled at being described as an easy mark. It was far more true than he'd like it to be.

"Is that so?" said Miss Florence, petting his hair. "Can you be docile and still for me, child?"

"Yes, sir," he heard his voice say, meek and mild. He already hated Miss Florence's powers, his words catching in his throat and his muscles disinclined to obey his commands. The forced meekness and artificial calm made him feel so vulnerable. But he had no choice but to allow himself to be led to the dresses. Miss Florence was rummaging about, pulling this and that dress and putting them together on a rack.

"Here, I've put out appropriate dresses that could potentially fit and which might appeal to Miss Lily's friend with the deep pockets, as you so crassly put it," she said. "Go ahead and pick which one appeals to you."

Several days of thrall and prison related brain fog had made Fitz's decision-making skills -- dubious at the best of times -- particularly rusty. He didn't really know anything about his prospective buyers. He didn't really know anything about vampires and what would appeal to or discourage them, apart from necks pumping with blood. He could choose based on his complexion and hair, but --

"Focus, child. What calls to you?"

Fitz could feel Miss Florence's power over him lifting a bit. "I need to know what is most likely to appeal to the best target buyers, sir," he said. "For example, if older vampires are more well-mannered, I might go with older styles, but if --"

"You should choose what you want to wear. It's the only choice I allow thralls to make in this room," she said, her irritation apparent.

"Sir, what I want to wear is whatever will help me avoid being chained in a dank basement by a sadist, or a surgical removal of my personality, or -- " Fitz felt the spell being cast on him again, stopping his voice.

"I'll allow you to try this one more time. You are to choose what you want. Not what you think an unknown patron would want, or what Miss Lily thinks you need to wear. What you want."

What he wanted? Fitz could start with freedom, even a few more days of it. That night of the magic show could easily be his last night as anything resembling a free man, and for all he knew, tonight was the last night he'd get to laugh and joke and pretend as though everything was fine.

When it came to what he wanted, a fancy ball dress didn't rate very high on his list of priorities.

Pointing this out would simply get him another swift dose of thrall dampening his voice, so instead he did what she wanted and perused the rack for something that might look flattering on him. If this was truly going to be his last night as anything resembling Phantom Fitz, he might as well go for the flashiest dress available.

Or perhaps he'd be purchased by a vampire who would appreciate his dramatic flair and show him mercy.

Perhaps he'd be purchased by a vampire who would appreciate breaking a confident human.

Regardless of the risk, he pulled out a very low cut dress made of crushed velvet in a deep red shade, the color of fresh blood, with golden trim. It was a stunning gown, exactly the sort of thing he might find alluring if he were a bloodsucking fiend. It was also suitably dramatic for a night that felt like both a beginning and an ending.

He checked the bust area as he looked it over, wondering how much padding he might need to wear with it, if it would accommodate him at all -- and he realized that it actually seemed cut for a man's figure. It did make sense that they stocked gowns cut this way, if they expected all of the fancy grade-A thralls to wear them.

"There you go," said Miss Florence, laying her hands on his shoulders, the hypnotic silence settling over his mind once more. "Now drop, and be calm and utterly still for me."

It was like cotton fluff filling his mind, dampening his thoughts. He could feel himself straining against it, so anxious from not being able to process and plot and scheme, but with no way of expressing that. He expected the peaceful nature of Miss Florence's power might be nice if he actually relaxed, but he had no intention of doing so. Not here. Not when so much was at stake.

He was pulled along into a bathroom, where he was unceremoniously stripped and dunked in a bathtub, scrubbed thoroughly with a thick pink bar of floral-scented soap. It felt nice to be washed, and he felt himself zoning out despite his resolve, mind wandering to the dreams Miss Lily had filled his head with. Dreams of the life he could live with a handsome and permissive vampire, of nights in an elegant mansion with a mysterious, dark master. The best case scenario.

Miss Florence sitting him down in front of a mirror and producing a pair of long scissors was what snapped him out of it. His golden hair, the feature he was so vain about -- and she was going to -- He heard himself involuntarily make a sound of distress, mind clawing against the vampire's spell.

"Oh, hush now, child," she said, as if she were talking to a fussy little boy getting his first haircut. "I have more experience cutting hair than any human barber."

While that was likely true, that didn't stop Fitz's chest from tightening as she chopped his hair far shorter than he liked to keep it. Vampires didn't want to have to deal with hair maintenance, he supposed, another unwelcome reminder of how little freedom he would have.

It was only hair. There were more important things to be concerned about. But his heart ached.

After rubbing his skin with sweet-smelling lotions, she brought him back into the main room and took out a small measuring tape. She began obsessively measuring every possible part of his body, from around his head to the size of his feet, in a way that seemed almost more like a ritual than an efficient way to measure him for a dress. Every time she brushed him, he felt the cottony prison for his mind growing thicker and more inescapable.

He was at least lucid enough to remember how to put on the undergarments required to wear fancy women's dress, with some assists from Miss Florence, particularly where it concerned the corset. Soon, the gown was being slipped over his head, and he found himself staring into his reflection in a large floor mirror as Miss Florence made adjustments to the dress here and there.

He looked stunning. And not just in the way he tried to convince himself every morning in the mirror, papering over his many flaws with cheap vanity. No, he actually looked fantastic in the deep red gown.

He only wished it were for a show and not for being sold to vampires.

And then the tailoring was done and he was whisked off to the vanity, Miss Florence applying makeup with a practiced hand. She was doing a much lighter look than the stage makeup he often applied himself, just enough to accentuate his skin.

"Now then, child, focus on me," said Miss Florence, dangling a ruby pendant in front of his face. It reminded him of the fatal pendant Miss Lily had used on him in his ill-fated five dollar bet. "You will remain calm during the auction."

Fitz felt something in him tug hard against that idea. How could he possibly remain calm when...

Miss Florence put a firm hand on top of his head, slowly swinging the pendant in front of his eyes. "You will remain calm during the auction. Repeat."

"I will remain calm during the auction, sir," his own voice droned.

"You exist to be a vampire's thrall. Repeat."

No, no, he was so much more than... "I exist to be a vampire's thrall, sir."

"You will know true obedience."

"I will know true obedience, sir." He could practically hear the echo of Miss Lily's voice convincing him how rewarding and pleasurable obedience would be. It had never been his strong suit. But the trance locking his mind said otherwise.

"Now, here is your final gift," said Miss Florence, taking his wrists with gentle hands, and snapping golden handcuffs around them. "You'll feel so much better once you've been sold off to a proper master, child. I can tell."

The amount of mesmeric power he was under made his twinge of despair seem distant, a storm cloud far away on the horizon. "Yes, sir."

Previous Masterlist Next

Next week is Christmas, so I plan to post a few Christmas specials (including at least one for Rare Bookseller) instead of a new part of the main story! The main story will resume in the new year, but until then, I have various AUs, asks, and a brand new series I hope to post.

Thanks for all your support for this silly little vampire story! I'm truly grateful for the reception I've had.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king

#whump #vampire #mind control #whump writing #whumpee #rare bookseller #vampire whumper #crossdressing #fitz #lily

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felassan · 11 months

Text

A former BioWare Design Director has tweeted his take on the recent BioWare and SW:TOR news. tweet compilation, as it's interesting and illuminating insight:

"My take on the SWTOR/BioWare split For SWTOR: This is a Good Thing For BioWare: This is a Big Loss A thread:

My point of view is someone who worked for BioWare Austin on SWTOR from 2009 as an Assistant World Designer through 2022 as Design Director (with some Anthem, Shadow Realms, and <NDA> years sprinkled about).

BioWare Austin (BWA) was its own studio for many years, founded in order to make that game. MMO’s are expensive, y’all.

We didn’t really collaborate with BioWare Edmonton (BWE) on the dev side much, because there was no need to (with some exceptions – they had built the original on-rails space shooting component, for example).

As a business, in this model all revenue and expenses roll up into the greater whole (BioWare), which then roll into EA’s Group, and so on.

After many years, this model shifted and changed, for a large variety of reasons I won’t get into. BWA would no longer be a separate entity, but under the same core leadership as BWE – One BioWare (BW).

What this meant realistically was you had a boxed product business that had been tried and true for years, combined with a live service MMO business that wasn’t really understood by the boxed product folks. Arguably by EA either, to be fair.

You see, MMO’s can be fairly predictable if they run long enough. We knew the SWTOR business very well. We knew how to turn every dollar invested in the game into several more. SWTOR was (and continues to be) a very profitable business, with loads of heart behind it.

But an older game isn’t sexy. It’s not new. It doesn’t get marketing orgs excited or social media teams jazzed. It’s a ‘legacy game’, despite the mountains of income coming in that other franchises are built off of.

And you FELT it, as a member of the team. It’s a fantastic dev team, filled with incredible talent. How then, with such a close-knit team, did you always feel less-than?

Well, just take a look around. Look at BW’s social media posts and count the proportion of SWTOR game/fan/anything posts compared to ME or DA. Remember that BioWare 25th anniversary book? The beautiful 328 page recollection of BioWare’s history, and celebration of all franchises?

For a game like SWTOR that had been live already for 9 of those 25 years at the time of publication, how many pages, dear reader, do you think had any SWTOR imagery or content at all? Ten. Teams notice this. They feel it, and it feels like shit.

Does BW despise SWTOR? I don’t think so – they don’t understand it, and it was someone else’s game. Does EA despise SWTOR? I don’t think so – it’s a legacy live service, and again, was someone else’s game.

As a dev on SWTOR, you feel like your game is a burden to all of the layers above you, but you persist. You put so much heart and passion into the game, and you thrive on the fans and tremendous partnership with LucasFilm.

So to bring us back to current news, imagine a team excited about a game, with incredible plans, that have felt ‘less-than’ by their own studio and company for years, being unleashed.

Being part of an org that KNOWS the MMO business, and understands those player communities and the incredible stories and connections they form.

This feels like an exciting new chapter to me, and I’m optimistic about what this means for that team and the game. SWTOR is, to the best of my knowledge, the longest-running Star Wars anything, ever. It’s a special game and I’m so happy to see where the team takes it.

As far as BW, it would have certainly be in their best interest as a business to maximize exposure and support for SWTOR publicly over the years, since the SWTOR revenue has allowed for the…unusually long…dev cycles to continue for the last several games.

But now without SWTOR, there will be less places to hide heads, R&D, and time. You’ve got blockbuster single-player experiences hitting high Metacritic scores with…2-3 year dev cycles? And the BW pattern has been…double? Triple that?

I think it will be interesting to see how the EA/BW relationship continues to evolve in this new world. /end"

[source]

#sw:tor #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #mass effect #next mass effect #anthem #video games #long post #longpost

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reynasdream · 6 months

Note

OOO BRO I just saw your lil post about writing for reverse 1999 and lemme tell you how FAST I dashed over here like I could be in the Olympics LMFAO

ANYWAYY BOOKIE I was LOWKEY WONDERING if you would be comfortable enough to doing Tennant and Dikke (separate!) x Ace detective! (Fem or Gn) Reader?

LIKE.. IDK imagine reader like Goro Akechi from persona 5😭 BUT OF COURSE that’s only if you’re comfortable and confident w it!🫧

HAVE A AMAZINGGG DAY THO!!

HELLO MISS!

⤷ pairings: dikke x reader, tennant x reader

⤷ content: all pairings are separate, reader is gender-neutral with no specified pronouns, mentions of homocide, very slight suggestiveness in dikke's part, not proofread

DIKKE

⤷ she had heard of you before from the townsfolk. to be completely honest, she had never really thought much about you other than that you were a smart and incredible, yet expensive detective.

⤷ you had helped solved several cases in the past despite your young age. you had started ever since you were a child, however, your work was more..."unofficial".

⤷ you were more recognized by her when you had gathered evidence to solve a major unsolved homicide case. she became more interested in you, and when she had the time, she sought out for you.

⤷ she didn't want to hire you, however. she simply wished to know you and your work better.

⤷ she asked to meet you at a small cafe, one where you two wouldn't easily be noticed by the townspeople.

⤷ after speaking with each other for a while, you two decided to have these meet-ups at least once every two weeks. the meetings became more often, but of course, you couldn't meet all the time because of both of your duties.

⤷ still, she enjoyed your company and knowing more about your career and cases in the past.

⤷ it didn't take long for her to realize she was in love with you.

⤷ one random day she decided to just confess to you. she invited you to the same cafe, but she tried to make it more special by giving you a gift and a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

⤷ she tried hinting that she liked you, and you did catch on, but you didn't say anything, thinking you were wrong.

⤷ that's when she just confessed to you. her face was tomato red when she confessed, and she attempted to hide her face with her hands.

⤷ if you accepted her confession, she'll take you outside and kiss you behind the building...maybe it'll lead to something more?

⤷ if you rejected her confession, she'll be okay with it, but she'll still want to be friends with you. she just won't be able to hang out with you so much, because now she's moving on and hanging out with you will only make her feelings toward you intense.

TENNANT

⤷ she knows you are not an easy one to fool with her..."charms".

⤷ she essentially spies on you, observing your personality and actions to determine who you are.

⤷ assuming you're wealthy, she'll most likely try to cheat you out of your wealth.

⤷ when her charms prove as useless, she may resort to her arcanum skills to manipulate you.

⤷ if they don't work on you somehow, then she'll be less ticked off and more intrigued by you, similar to dikke except with more malicious intentions.

⤷ she will befriend you, and work her way up to a higher status as your friend in order to manipulate you.

⤷ that's when she realizes that she has fallen in love with you, and she'll try to win you, this time with less...deceiving intentions.

⤷ she will try to win your heart, and although it definitely doesn't seem like it, she's rather desperate.

⤷ i mean, you're gorgeous, smart, and rich. it's not a surprise that she wants to be with you.

⤷ one day, she decides it's time for her to confess her feelings. her real feelings.

⤷ she invites you to a fancy restaurant, even offering to pay for everything. she gives you a couple luxurious gifts and treats you even more well than usual.

⤷ when she does confess, she is very much different from dikke. she speaks with full confidence, not bothering to hide her flushed face as she tells you her feelings.

⤷ if you do accept her confession, she would be delighted. she'll often take you out on fancy dates to restaurants, museums, operas, or other places considered as "sophisticated".

⤷ if you don't accept her confession, she'll understand, but that doesn't mean she won't be upset. she'll try to move on but she definitely won't forget you and your cute little face.

#reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #dikke x reader #tennant x reader #dikke #tennant #dikke reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 dikke #reverse 1999 tennant #tennant reverse 1999 #reynasdream -`♡´-

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shepherds-of-haven · 9 months

Note

in a high school/anime slice of life au, what would the ros do for valentines day? and i don't mean what would they do for a date, i mean who's making homemade chocolates for their crush and confessing on the day of, who's ignoring the whole thing, who's returning the favor on white day??

Ooh, interesting question!

(For those not familiar, in Japan (and therefore in slice-of-life anime), Valentine's Day is typically when girls give chocolate/sweets either as giri chocolate (obligation/courtesy gifts) or honmei (gifts intended to be received as a romantic gesture), and on White Day one month later, boys are supposed to repay or return the gifts they received on Valentine's Day back to the girls, sometimes with the thought that their 'return gift' should be 2-3x the value of the original.)

As for how the characters would react if they were in this kind of slice-of-life high school anime AU...

Blade: he would be so indifferent to these holidays lol I'm not even completely sure he would be aware they existed? He'd certainly reject any gifts he received from people he didn't know, and he'd "return" the gesture on White Day with the absolute bare minimum (like a little store-bought bag of chocolates) because his mom forced him to or something

Trouble: "oh damn, I love chocolate! Thanks!" :D

*completely oblivious that this gesture could be anything but friendly, inadvertently and ruthlessly crushing the hopes of several admirers*

He'd attempt to bake his own chocolates at home for White Day, but they'd end up looking so nasty and mutilated-looking, like

They'd actually taste decent, though!!

Tallys: she would bake elegant little cookies or brownies purely as courtesy or giri gifts for all of her friends, of all genders, but she might secretly slip in something special (like a heart-shaped cookie) into the bag of the person she secretly had a crush on! No one would ever know, though!

Shery: she would make the CUTEST cookies and chocolates in little pastel-wrapped baggies for all of her girlfriends 🥹 She'll give some to the boys too, but it's more like a "oh I just had so many left over, please enjoy 🥰" because it's the female friendships in high school she'd treasure the most, and she wouldn't want any boys to get the wrong idea!! These gifts would be so perfect that they'd be the envy of all who saw them!

Riel: he wouldn't pay any attention to the holiday whatsoever (until he got a box of chocolates from some hopeful first-year and brutally rejected them out-of-hand so as not to waste anyone's time...) He gives off an intimidating aura, but would actually really appreciate receiving little candies and sweets and things as giri choco from people like Tallys or Shery because he LOVES sugar, so he would use these as fuel for his late-night cram sessions! 👓 For White Day, he'd buy them expensive, thoughtfully-chosen white-gold jewelry, because Riel Syndran ALWAYS surpasses expectations!!! If you give him a gift he'll return it six-fold, not just two or three times in value!!!

Chase: realistically, he'd probably be swamped with gifts on Valentine's Day and bombarded with all kinds of confessions, and he'd probably indiscriminately accept each and every one of them with a big grin and an easygoing demeanor that would just make more and more people feel like it's safe to confess to him because he seems so receptive to it! Realistically, though, he could be ambling down the hall loaded up with flowers and chocolate and see someone like crying in a nook because they got rejected (like by Blade or Riel lol), and he'd stop to have a chat with them and would probably hand them a bouquet of flowers, like "Here, I don't need it! Cheer up!" --Inadvertently winning himself yet another heart. I think he would sincerely appreciate and enjoy the gestures, but the materials themselves wouldn't, like, mean anything to him specifically, if that makes any sense. Ironically he'd probably treasure even giri chocolate from close friends way more than romantic honmei from near-strangers, and his reaction to the gifts from friends would be markedly different and more excitable (usually for trolling purposes, but also sincere enthusiasm). Like getting chocolate from a random admirer would be like "Oh, thanks so much, I appreciate it! :)" whereas getting some chocolate from Briony or Trouble or Blade would be really dramatic and embarrassing, like "REALLY??? YOU MADE THIS FOR ME??? 🥹🥹 I DIDN'T KNOW YOU LOVED ME SO MUCH 🥹🥹 Ahhhh I knew you had a soft spot for me~~~ I'm so happy right now~~~ 🥰❤️"

For White Day, I feel like he'd just pretend he "forgot" about the holiday to dodge having to show favoritism to any one admirer/suitor, lol, so none of his romantic pursuers would get anything--but somehow he'd get away with it due to his 'lovable scamp' reputation! He'd probably treat his friends to dinner or something to repay them for their giri chocolate, though!

Red: Like Chase, he would politely accept each and every Valentine's Day gift offered to him, regardless of its implicit meaning, which inevitably would lead to all sorts of messy romantic entanglements and misunderstandings that Pan and Neon would give him hell over. "Why the hell did you accept chocolate from that girl if she said she likes you??" "Well, she made it herself, it seemed rude to just reject it..." "BUT NOW SHE THINKS YOU'RE DATING, AND SO DOES THE OTHER ONE WHO GAVE YOU CHOCOLATE" "yeah I'll probably have to clarify at some point..." "SOME POINT"

He's very conscientious about returning the gesture on White Day, though he tries to be as "neutral" about it as possible (i.e. getting everyone the same generic gift en masse) so as to avoid the situations he got himself into last month! (coward)

Ayla: YAWN, Valentine's Day is just a capitalist holiday designed to sell candy and sugar!! She's not the biggest fan of sweets, so she's whatever about this holiday and White Day. You're definitely not going to catch her dead preparing or giving anyone stupid chocolates... What a waste of time!! So cringey!!

But she is curiously a bit more clingy towards her gal pals on this day and is like "can't we just go to dinner/have a sleepover, just us, and forget about all this? 😒"--leading to some to suspect that it all might make her feel a bit insecure, worrying that her precious friends are going to get into relationships or fall in love or receive admirer's chocolate and and leave her behind!!

Briony: THIS IS HER FAVORITE THING EVER, she's so excited about this holiday!!! She might be the only one in the entire group who would consider using Valentine's Day as a way of expressing her feelings or confessing her crush to the object of her affections by making them a special gift... it would look a good deal shabbier and more homemade than Shery or Tallys or Lavinet's offerings--she couldn't temper the chocolate to make it shiny, so it looks a bit dull and claggy--but the heart is definitely there!! Whether or not she actually has a crush on anyone, though, she's going to go all-out and make as many gifts for her friends and classmates to show her appreciation and love towards them as well! She'd be the classroom's little Valentine's Day fairy, floating around and trying to spread Valentine's cheer!

"Riel, aren't you going to wear a heart pin on your lapel, the class rep passed them out so we could celebrate--"

"No"

"But--"

"Purposefully make a hole in my blazer? Are you insane? The colors don't even match"

"But it's Valentine's Day! 🥺"

Lavinet: huhuhu, this holiday is her time to bask in the attention, because she inevitably gets a lot of gifts and chocolates from admirers every year! 😎 However, she'll only buy expensive, elegant chocolates for her friends (she won't make them herself) and then she'll wait and see what the object of her affection does on that day. She doesn't want to chase too hard or obviously!!! If the crush does something nice for her (even though Valentine's Day is traditionally when she should offer a gift), then she might whip out a very sleek, wrapped gift and carelessly say something like, "I saw this and thought of you! (AKA Don't read too much into it!)" But, of course, him being the only person to receive such a gift from her would be a sign in and of itself...

If he doesn't do anything worthy of her gift that day, she keeps it for herself and eats it without ever telling anyone it existed in the first place LOL

Halek: he probably skips school that day because he overslept and just decided the day was a lost cause, so he successfully dodges both Valentine's Day and White Day. 😂 If he doesn't, he makes the most badass, haute-couture, gastro-molecular confections and treats, is eager to show them off to as many of his friends and classmates as possible, then overthinks it because someone (Naolin) is like "Are you sure you want to give that to so-and-so, the level of attention and detail you put into that might give them the wrong idea of your intentions..." So then he ends up only giving it to, like, Trouble, who as the safest option is like "DUDE THIS IS SICK" and then scarfs it down without appreciating the artistry of it 😭😭 Meanwhile Chase is still like "do... do you have a crush on Trouble??" Red: "yeah there were gelee pearls on top of that handmade profiterole, he definitely does"

#Shepherds of Haven #Valentine's Day #White Day #AU #modern AU #high school AU #anime AU #slice-of-life AU #slice of life AU #slice of life #all characters

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doll-elvis · 6 months

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have you ever read child bride by suzanne finstead? do you find it accurate.

thank you very much for this ask ꨄ︎!!

I have indeed read "Child Bride” and as for its’ accuracy I wouldn't go as far to say it's entirely inaccurate but I do have several bones to pick with Suzanne Finstad as a biographer as I believe she has let her bias (obviously not liking Priscilla) get in the way of her better judgment, which in turn, has corrupted the overall validity of her book. For example, giving Currie Grant a platform to tell his version of events regarding Elvis and Priscilla in Germany, including a claim so egregious that I truly have trouble understanding why so many in this fandom praise this book 😭

I think a lot of Elvis fans consider/recommend “Child Bride” as the antithesis to Priscilla’s “Elvis and Me” which is fair considering Finstad highlights some very valid criticisms against Priscilla i.e her hiring a second, much more aggressive, lawyer to get more money out of Elvis, and her introducing her family (Lisa Marie and later on Navarone) to the “church” aka cult of Scientology etc. etc.

- however -

The book as a whole comes at the expense of Elvis and what I mean by that is that Suzanne Finstad is not someone who has his best interest at heart (I mean look at what she has said in some of these recents documentaries about Elvis) and in order to push her narrative that Priscilla was some fourteen-year-old s*xual deviant, she has made some incredibly inflammatory statements about their relationship, and it literally starts with the title of her book (referring to Priscilla as Elvis’ “child bride”)

And the main reason as to why I cannot comprehend how fans praise this book is that Finstad goes with the story that Currie Grants tells, which includes him saying that Elvis (24) and Priscilla (14) were having penetrative intercourse after their 3rd or 4th date ⬇️

excerpt is from “Child Bride” by Suzanne Finstad

So this is why I tend to cringe when I see other fans praise this book… I know it’s not their intention but they are inadvertently promoting a falsehood that says Elvis was committing statutory r*pe against a fourteen year old Priscilla

Not only does that go against what Priscilla and others have said about the physical relationship she had with Elvis in Germany, but it goes against the pattern that Elvis followed for almost every single (long-term) relationship prior to Priscilla and even after

A girl that Elvis deemed “special” or in other words- good enough to marry- was not a girl that Elvis was going to have penetrative s*x with, especially not when he had the more worldly starlets of Hollywood and the showgirls of Germany and Paris at his disposal

PRISCILLA PRESLEY: “In the past, he said that he wanted a virgin (to marry)”

DEBRA PAGET: “He always said he’d marry a virgin”

LAMAR FIKE: “Elvis respected virginity. He used to tell Alan, “I’ll never break a virgin. There are too many whores around”

We saw this with Dixie Locke, we saw this with June Juanico and Anita Wood, all of whom, in their many years of dating him never had penetrative s*x

We even saw this with women like Linda Thompson and Ginger Alden who he waited several months with before consummating

So because of that I have an incredibly hard time believing that Elvis would abandon his morals after just 3 or 4 dates with Priscilla, especially when he was having s*x with age appropriate girls like Elizabeth Mansfield, who often took Priscilla’s place in Elvis’ bed after she left

Another issue I have with “Child Bride” is that she has often either misquoted people, or written things that contradict what they have said to other biographers- basically many things haven’t added up when cross referencing between books

I have mentioned this one before but it is just so blatant, that I feel compelled to mention it again ⬇️

So here we have Joe Esposito re-telling a throwaway comment about Priscilla made by Elvis

excerpt is from “Good Rockin’ tonight” by Joe Esposito

And then here we have Suzanne Finstad’s retelling of that comment, where she has misquoted Esposito in order to make Priscilla out to be the s*xual aggressor

excerpt is from “Child Bride” by Suzanne Finstad

Instances like this give me extreme pause when determining if a biographer could be trusted or not- and when I was reading through her book again this comment about Sheila Ryan nearly made me bust out laughing

excerpt is from “Child Bride” by Suzanne Finstad

“Sheila never had an orgasm when she was with Elvis”… like are we talking about the same Sheila Ryan or-? ⬇️

excerpt is from “Baby let’s play house” by Alanna Nash

All in all, “Child Bride” definitely makes for an interesting read (mainly the second half of the book) but it’s one that I will probably never pick up again as I cannot get over Currie Grant’s involvement, especially his claims about Priscilla and Elvis that are completely unfounded

Scandal sells quite frankly and I no longer underestimate what people will say for money, ESPECIALLY when it comes to Elvis- I mean look at the claims made by Dee Stanley who got a whopping $100,000 from the National Enquirer to tell stories about a woman she never even met (Gladys)

So I would not be surprised in the least if Currie has been handsomely compensated for selling his stories to biographers like Finstad, because again, scandal sells, and him approaching Priscilla first isn’t nearly as page-turning as Priscilla offering up s*x in order to meet Elvis

#this one is a doozy #suzanne finstad really wrote that about our girl sheila #bffr #thank you again for the ask!#elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #elvis #elvis asks #elvis fans #elvis fandom #elvis history #elvis books #elvis photos #suzanne finstad #priscilla presley

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prettyyyathieee · 8 months

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✧˖°.Reo Mikage is your reckless love✧˖°.

Warnings ⚠️: Cheating! Toxic love! Angst! Very Detailed...Snu but without the actual snu. Some curse words as well.

Female reader x Reo Mikage

A/n : Call me stupid but there's something about toxic loves I literally cannot get over.

I literally hurt myself writing this, so I hope it hurts you guys more. KJZXNCVSDHFA I'm kidding. But yeah, I'm kinda proud of this one.

What they didn’t tell you about rich people is they all have their own “rich people” bubble. It’s that special connection or network wherein just by being part of it you could access penthouses for free, get jobs at well-known companies for free, or just simply be gifted free expensive things whenever you show your face.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…magical

You and Reo Mikage were part of the same bubble. Forced into it. After all, having a hundred acre “house” with a couple more “houses' ' on it and several generations of inheritance that will eventually fall on your lap without you breaking a sweat or proving something means connection with only the wealthiest, at least nearly wealthy in your status.

You were always stuck in your own little lavish bubble, protected by your overbearing daddy. It wasn’t that you were taking your privilege as something that you rightfully owned, it was just that you were, in the broadest sense, unaware.

Unlike Reo Mikage, who was the first to show the pretty rich girl how privileged she was. It was hypocritical of him to say you were “privileged” when perhaps his family may even be richer than yours.

Be that as it may, it was Reo Mikage who showed you the real world or shall I say, the fun parts of the lesser side of the city. The arcade where your father would have an aneurysm if he caught you talking to the ‘smoking hoodlums’ as he called them, the fast food restaurants you could run into and cause a scene at 3 am, and of course, the parking lots where you almost had a near-death experience after chasing one of his soccer balls without paying attention to your surroundings.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…all sorts of new experiences

Family businesses turn into lucrative opportunities. Just like how the gatherings of business launches turn into talks of new investments and piles of master-crafted, hand-me-downs of gold jewelry.

That was your life. Until Mikage Reo turned it upside down and set it aflame by tarnishing yours and his reputation.

You might be thinking of fancy candle-lit dinners or masquerade ball dates but no. Unlike his polished facade or his way of hiding his weaknesses like an innate businessman, Mikage Reo was not that kind of person when he was with you. He wasn’t one for showing you extravagance because he knew it would not phase you.

No, with you, Reo Mikage did not feel the need to boast or be competitive at all. He didn’t feel unguarded or upstaged because you were the exact opposite of him. Amazement was readable in your eyes whenever he showed you the ways to have fun without having to involve money– which was all you were really used to. (Although he did a little too much by showing you how to eat and run)

And of course, it was a very interesting experience getting to know your future sister-in-law’s fiance.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…thrilling

Aside from the “dates” you both indulged yourself in, as much as it shames you to say it there was something about doing the “wrong” things that made it so fun. It’s not like it was weighing on your conscience that much either. You know for a fact every other rich person in your family’s country club had a secret lover behind their partner’s back. You’d also bet all of your family's bank account combined that your very own fiance had a secret lover as well.

He hid him or her so well and so carefully that you pitied him because here you were, on the Mikage heir’s lap in an abandoned music room feeding each other expensive cocktail shrimp that you stole from the buffet table.

You always found yourself at inconvenient places at times like this. Whether it be a charity party or a business party, whenever you and reo were in the same building, not even responsibility could hold either of you from hiding yourselves in each other’s arms.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…romantic in a sense

I say in a sense because what exactly is romantic in secretly hooking up with your future sister-in-law’s fiance? Both of your family’s had bad blood because of some petty rivalry that occured even before your parent’s time. So as children, you both weren’t allowed to even go near each other. They only found truce in your fiance’s family, and that did not end well. Not that they need to know

But yes, your fiance’s sister is a great woman. She was smart, pretty and had a good family name. That was all she was to Reo however, a name. Just another name in the endless spiral of rich people to build connections with.

With you however, Reo really did feel something. Unlike his fiance you were responsive, actually appreciative of his efforts. Although his efforts to his fiance were simply bouquets of expensive roses and champagne while his efforts to you were time and unreplicable memories. Unlike his fiance you weren’t cold. The attention he craved, the compliments he was starved of and the rawness of being in love, nothing could rival it for him, not even soccer. And of course, unlike his fiance, you were a girl he could corrupt. And oh how he loved that.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…what stripped you from your innocence

‘Reo, Reo, Reo’ It was all him in your mind.

The way he ‘innocently’ caressed your exposed legs under the table and under your dress. The way his eyes would slowly dart from your eyes to your lips, to your neck to your shoulders, traveling lower and lower.

It was Reo you held at night, not your fiance. It was Reo you share kisses with all of your passion combined, not your fiance. It was Reo that taught you what desire truly is. Reo showed you things nobody could and would never dare to.

Truly, Reo loved the innocence slowly being poured out of your eyes for him to drink. And he enjoyed every drop of it. There was just something in the way you felt around him. So right, so wrong and so real.

He was sure nothing could ever satisfy him ever again.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…exhausting

It was exhausting having to hide your relationship from everyone, and that includes every person you trust because your relationship with Reo would surely be the downfall of both your families. It was hard but only because Reo was passionate about you.

Reo loved touching you, he couldn’t resist it. His excuse would always be “you’re just too irresistible” saying it with a pout you could do no more to refuse his advances. It was nerve-wracking at first. However, after enough time it became weird going a day without spending at least an hour with skin-to-skin contact. And so came the days where Reo wanted to occupy all of your time and vice versa.

Let’s get this straight though, being with him wasn’t exhausting, avoiding him was.

Trying to act like you both didn’t know each other even when you stare at each other from across the room was exhausting. Hiding behind thick clothing with a mask around your face was exhausting. Trying not to show each other off to the world was exhausting. Having to be careful of all your actions was exhausting. But most of all…

Having another woman claim him was exhausting.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…degrading

They knew. You didn’t know how but they all knew. You could see it from their eyes. Even with Reo convincing you they didn’t have a clue, you knew they knew. Your parents knew, evidenced by their disappointed stare. His teammates knew, given by their curious stares. Heck- even the maids knew as evidenced by their snickering whenever they thought you weren’t there, behind their back.

Maybe you were overthinking, it wasn’t you they were staring at, it wasn’t you they were laughing at. You tried to convince yourself, just like Reo did. But alas, as he was blind and you were not. At least, not after someone made you realize.

Her long slender hand grasped upon your shoulder, the engagement ring on placed upon her fourth finger glared at you. Her languid eyes looking directly into your shaken ones. There you saw it, evidence.

Apathy has never felt so horrifying.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…confusing

No amount of begging could get your parents to absolve your future marriage, even after your temper tantrums and threats to hurt yourself. They simply locked you away in your room and had your maids care for you, all while making sure you did not have any means to contact Reo.

Although, when time finally came to let you out of house arrest the news you were greeted with made you question your whole relationship.

Because while you were suffering, rotting away in your room, Reo left for some soccer program.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…wrong

You knew that from the very first day you understood his advances. Yet as Eve had realized, nothing was sweeter than eating the fruit of the devil. And your devil came in the form of Reo Mikage.

It wasn’t all his fault. Sure, he made you think nothing of your whole relationship was wrong because it was born out of love. Sure, he made you endure all sorts of degrading stares and disgusted sneers all while he built his career in soccer.

But you knew he really did love you. Because no one else ever knew what you knew.

Nobody, but you, would ever know about the semi-huge part of the reason he joined blue lock was because he wanted to end your suffering. To cut off the evil vines he was slowly suffocating you with.

And nobody but you knew about the letters he wrote to you everyday while in blue lock, delivered by a boy named “Nagi Seishiro”.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…the one experience you will never regret.

You don’t think you’d ever get over him. Not when your news feed was full of his existence for the first few years. He had a knack for soccer, something you wish also didn’t apply to you.

They say grief is the badge of honor for past loves, a sign you’ve loved well but lost. What do we make of longing then? A sign you’ve loved wrongly? It sure felt like that.

Your heart still aches more than a few years later. You would readily admit that you still want Reo but you would never do that to yourself once more.

You’d never heal from him, true enough, however, it was the same for him. Which made it bearable for you, as awful as that sounds.

Reo could never ever rid himself of loving you, not even after the thousands of beautiful girls the world could offer him. Nobody could ever compare to you, nobody could ever be as fit for him as you.

“I see, I see. This next question is for Mr. Reo Mikage” The reporter asked, which caused Reo to stop pestering Nagi and to turn to the audience with a wide smile on his face.

It was a female reporter, a pretty one at that. He gave her a flirtatious wink as she blushed and hid her face behind her bulky mic which prompted a bunch of hoots and teasings from his teammates.

The reporter cleared her throat before she spoke to the mic. “Ehem, thank you for the opportunity-”

“The honor’s all mine, pretty girl” Reo smirked before biting his lip and scrunching his face from the laughs that erupted and the hands hitting his back.

The reporter squealed for a bit before gathering herself together by taking a few deep breaths.

“Um…so…uh” She stuttered. Nodding graciously at Reo’s beckoning face.

“This pertains to your…uh let’s say ritual? Fans have noticed that before each and every game you kiss the bracelet on your wrist…does it have a reason or perhaps a story?” She asked Reo so sweetly that some of the blue lock guys blushed. But those who were close to Reo winced.

Everybody could feel the room turn a little colder as the mentioned player’s smile dropped. The silence only lasted a couple of seconds before Reo, ever the professional business heir, fixed his face instantly making others wonder if what they saw was real.

“It’s personal. Next question.” He spoke to the mic before giving it to the teammate next to him. He was out for the whole interview after that. Not focused nor attentive. Everybody could see that the question may have put him in a tight spot.

Before it was even over, Reo stood up, much to the worry of many, then stormed out without so much as a ‘goodbye’. There in the hallways, Reo buried his hands across his folded arms. He honestly thought everything was in place now, you out of his, out of shame and misery.

Yet as soon as somebody mentions that godforsaken bracelet, he can’t think straight.

“Y/n…What the hell am I supposed to do?” He asked the air, though if you asked him, he’d say he was asking what’s left of you, the ghost of you. He caressed his bracelet with his thumb before pressing a kiss to it. After all, it’s one of the things you left him before he ghosted you.

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