#I love him so much. I haven’t been this happy about my own art in a long time

[napkinmouse]

Him ♥

#crab #lineless art #art #cartoon #character design #him #I love him so much. I haven’t been this happy about my own art in a long time

[mikeystrawberry]

Today is Dungeons & Daddies’s 5th Anniversary!

I haven’t been listening for nearly that long but the podcast and all its characters means a lot to me. Happy Anniversary!!!

Throwing the cropped sections under the cut because there’s a lot of stuff going on and I know Tumblr likes to throw half the pixel quality out the window. And also so I can ramble a bit about this piece!!!

This piece has been months in the making, possibly an entire year. And by that I mean I’ve had a sketch of the comp scribbled on my whiteboard for ages because I wanted to save this specifically for 5th anni art. Now onto design stuff!

(First off a random thought: I really love how the garlic knot came out, I kind of want it as an enamel pin.)

I knew I wanted to make this a stained glass piece since the beginning, but I was also going to add flowers at one point but quickly dropped the idea. It felt like too much and I also didn’t want to fuss over flower language assignments for everyone. I was also going to add Doodler tentacles, but also dropped that idea pretty early. Kind of on accident, right at the end, I figured out how to make it even more stained glass-like but taking a duplicated lineart underneath the regular layer and turning the brightness all the way down, then setting it to overlay and adding a guassian blur. It’s very subtle but it adds that tiny bit of depth that makes it look more real. As for shading on the lineart/gold, I tried adding more highlight on the characters who died but once I evened everything out it wasn’t as noticeable anymore so I’m throwing that thought here so the attempt at least known lol.

The order of characters only changed a little bit from my original comp, I flipped the Wilsons and the Oaks so the rainbow could work. As for the anchors, specifically in season 2, I lined them up to the teens since the season 1 anchors lined up with each dad:

Tony —> Scary: his death was the beginning of Scary’s betrayal arc and also Willy killed him.

Guitar Pick —> Taylor: it’s not really aligned with Taylor at all, but the anchor was with Glenn so I put it next to his blunt.

Scroll —> Normal: was only because it was the last left to give him, but there’s the whole scene of him and Hermie in the Green Room so it still works!

Garlic Knot —> Link: one of two that he broke, but the more significant of the two with him telling Grant he never wants to see him again.

Small notes on the season 1 anchors: I put the layer of mold in the overnight oats but you can’t really tell with the overlay. And to make the supper bowl more interesting I added the fantasy sodas mix they dumped into it. The lure of actually drawn before so I just traced my own art lol.

As for the other smaller triangles, it took me a bit to figure out what I wanted to put there. I didn’t even think of adding the vehicles until two days ago but I’m so glad I did. I don’t really have my own take on the mascot version of the Doodler (yet?) so I borrowed the design from one of the stickers in their merch shop. Teeny was terrifying as just a front facing head so I made him cute again.

In the outer circles, I put what I felt was the most significant quotes for each family. I really wanted to use “It’s okay to be angry, it’s not okay to be cruel” but it was just a little too long.

That’s all I can think of! If you read all the way through, thank you for indulging me in my excitement to gush over this piece.

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndads fanart #dndads s1 #dndads s2 #dndads glenn close #darryl wilson #henry oak #ron stampler #jodie foster dndads #nick close #nicholas foster #nicky swift #grant wilson #sparrow oak #lark oak #terry jr #taylor swift dndads #lincoln li wilson #normal oak #scary marlowe #hermie unworthy #bill close #paeden bennetts #barry oak #willy stampler #meryl streep dndads #robert wilson #hildy russet #stud stampler

[strangersmunsons]

Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 5 Prompt: Love Notes 💌 ~ 2,300 words Eddie writes you an anonymous love note. it doesn't go according to plan.

Dear ____

I hope you’re not too weirded out by this. To be perfectly honest with you, it seemed like a really good idea when I saw this pink paper in the art room and swiped it, but now I’m not so sure…

Ah, fuck it. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we? The pen has been put to paper — I might as well nut up and finish the job.

I really like you. I think about you all the time.

You don’t know me, but we had a class together two years ago. And on the first day, when I was still fresh off a jilt by a different girl, you came in and sat down. I didn’t think much of anything at first; you were just another body in the classroom, and I was wallowing in self-pity, nursing my metaphorical wounds. But as the minutes passed, I found myself glancing over at you — at first just once, then again, and then again, and then I was staring, and all I could think was: she’s really beautiful. And then I couldn’t stop looking.

Day after day I’d watch you in class and in the hallways and anywhere else you and I happened to be occupying the same space. I still do. There’s just something about you that keeps drawing me in. You seem so genuinely good and kind, like you would never hurt anybody, not even a guy like me. But I still can’t bring myself to approach you, because I look at you, and then I look at myself, and I feel like I don’t deserve to be loved that way, by someone as perfect as you. I can’t take the leap no matter how badly I want it.

I have dreams about you. I dream about what it would feel like to hold your hand, to put my arms around you, and to feel yours around me. If my subconscious is feeling particularly indulgent, I might get a kiss. But mostly in these dreams we just exist together, which feels like the most unattainable fantasy of them all. They’re the sweetest dreams to have but the worst to wake up from. 

I’m not sure why I’m confessing this all to you now. Everyone else is sending each other candy grams and roses; I suppose it means I’m not as immune to this Hallmark-conspired holiday as I thought. If nothing else, I hope this gives you at least an inkling of how wonderful you are, in case you ever had any doubts. You’re a sweet girl. Anybody would be really lucky to be with you. Especially me.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Deliberately omitting his signature, Eddie sets his pen down and stares at the paper in front of him, rereading the fucking novel he just wrote you.

See, now this is far too much. 

Cheeks violently red, he slumps over the table in embarrassment. God, he sounds like such a serial killer! He can’t give this to you, no way. Even if it is anonymous.

…can he?

On one hand, you might find it touching. On the other hand, you might find it both disturbing and grossly predative. 

If it’s truly any one thing, it’s honest — Eddie has spent the past two and half years being completely and utterly infatuated with you. He’d call it love, if he’d ever said a single word to you. But instead he’s camped out here in the library during his lunch period, spilling his guts out all over this cotton-candy pink paper, with no intention of revealing his identity. 

He sighs, and with nimble fingers, folds the paper into a shape that resembles a heart. Tucking the love note into the pocket of his vest, he wrenches himself away from the table and stalks out of the library. His expression is sour; to the outward observer, he looks mightily pissed off, although what he’s really  experiencing is a fierce combination of ambivalence and humiliation towards his own actions. You’d never guess that his heart is thumping wildly against his chest as he speeds through the empty hallways, getting closer and closer to your locker, still uncertain of what he’s going to do when he actually gets there.

But he knows that if he’s going to do something, he needs to do it now, because lunch will be over in mere minutes, and then everyone will start pouring out of the cafeteria.

133…134…135…there it is.

Eddie stares at your locker as though in a trance. He fishes the note from his pocket and simply clutches it in his fist, mind racing.

Can I? Should I? If she’s disgusted she won’t know it’s me. No. No. Maybe I shouldn’t. Bad idea. BAD. Or maybe…I should…

“Whatcha got there, freak?”

A beefy arm shoves him violently from behind, knocking him to the ground. His fingers automatically close around the note, instant panic setting all his nerve endings on fire.

No. Oh God, no. 

He quickly tries to haul himself back to his feet, but he’s outnumbered. Two jocks pin him to the ground by his arms, thwarting any desperate punches he might have swung. A third yanks the note from his hand, smoothing out the meticulously-folded paper he’d poured his soul onto. 

There’s a roaring in his ears, but it’s not enough to completely drown out the bell ringing in the distance. Then the student voices start floating down the hallway, alerting Eddie to the fact that, not only is he about to suffer greatly at the hands of these meatheads, but he’s unfortunately also going to have an audience when it happens.

The third jock holding the note reads it silently, a slow, evil grin splitting across his face. He starts howling with laughter. “Shit, Munson! I mean, I figured you’d be desperate for pussy, but this? This is a whole new level of pathetic.”

“Give it back!” Eddie snarls, desperately trying to free himself. 

The third jock doubles over, cackling, then reads aloud in a nasally, mocking voice, “I have dreams about you…”

One of the goons pinning Eddie down snorts, and loosens his grip. “Hold up, I wanna read it —” 

Eddie, sensing his chance, breaks out of their grasp, and makes a move to snatch his note back. Before he can, the third jock crumples it into a ball and tosses it over his head to one of his friends; Eddie makes a wild grab for it, and misses.

High school students start to trickle in, drawn to a fight like flies to honey, crowding at the edges of the scene. 

The four boys play a game of Eddie-in-the-middle, the onlookers puzzled but intrigued, watching the mysterious paper whiz back and forth through the air. Growing angrier by the second, fed up with the childish antics, Eddie finally stops trying to catch the note. Instead, he cocks his fist back and lets it smash into the third jock’s nose.

There’s a collective “oooh!” from the mass of students. Eddie and the jock scuffle, both now determined to fuck the other one up as badly as possible. One goon steps in to help his friend, while the other scoops the wadded-up paper off the floor, so he can finally skim the content of Eddie’s heart for himself.

And then suddenly, the most devastating thing of all: the asshole is hollering your name over the din.

For the first time ever, Eddie finds himself hoping that the bully he’s fighting actually kills him. Because death would be better than this.

“Where’s she at? She’s gotta hear this — hey, guess what! The freak is in love with you!”

Eddie wheels around in horror. The other goon grabs him from behind, rendering him motionless again, but it barely registers. The crowd has parted like the Red Sea, everyone stepping aside to make a clear path for you to walk through. You approach nervously, looking completely bewildered as to why you’re being summoned. Eddie wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

The goon thrusts the paper out to you. “Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer,” he sneers.

“More like a stalker,” the third jock interjects, voice thick from his swollen nose. He steps in front of Eddie and gives him a bloody smile, flexing his hand menacingly. “Hold his face steady for me, would ya?”

“Stop it!” you shriek suddenly, snatching the paper without bothering to look at it. “You’re such assholes!”

“That’s ENOUGH!”

Principal Higgins has finally decided to do his job, it seems. He marches through the crowd — “Get to class, all of you!” — and pulls the two boys apart. 

“My office. Now.”

He corrals the four boys down the hallway, towards the office, as the other students scatter about, flushed with excitement. None of them cast a backwards glance at you, head bent, reading the crumpled note with a furrowed brow.

~

An hour later and Eddie’s finally trudging his way through the parking lot.

He’s been sentenced to three days’ suspension. The guy he clocked made it out with one after-school detention, which he’ll most likely get out of due to basketball obligations, and the other two got off scot-free. Principal Higgins’s reasoning was that Eddie, because he’s the only one who did any ‘real’ damage, should get the worst punishment.

Sure, he threw the hardest punch. But the idea that any of those three are suffering worse than he is right now is downright laughable.

The hot, bitter embarrassment of it all is making his skin itch. There’s a lump in his throat; he can feel the start of angry tears prickling in his eyes. He sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he starts driving — the last thing he needs right now is an excuse for one of Hawkins’ finest to pull him over. God knows how much they love doing that.

“Eddie!”

He doesn’t turn around, rage and shame making him want to disappear. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now, or ever again, probably.

“Eddie! Wait!” 

A light hand caresses his back, then curls around his bicep. He whips around, already on the defensive; you flinch backwards at his aggressive stance.

As soon as he sees that it’s you, all the tension in his body dissipates. His eyes widen and his lips part in shock; his skin becomes dead-white, then bright red in the span of about four seconds.

“I’m sorry,” the words tumble out of his mouth. “For the note — for everything. You weren’t supposed to know it was me.” He stares down at his feet, unable to look at you. 

“Did you really mean it? All that stuff you said?”

Eddie shifts his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. “Well…yeah.” He rubs his clammy forehead with his hand in distress, heart rate spiking again. “I’m sorry, you probably think I’m the biggest fucking creep, I wasn’t even sure if I was going to give it to you —”

“I don’t think you’re a creep.”

Eddie falls silent. His eyes finally flit up to meet yours, and he’s surprised to find that you don’t look…angry. Or repulsed, or even annoyed. Your gaze is soft, the corners of your mouth pulled slightly down in a worried frown. You look concerned. 

Is that for him?

“You swear you weren’t playing a joke on me?” you ask.

Eddie starts, taken aback. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do something like that to you, ever. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

You nod slowly, seeming to believe him. You swing your backpack off your shoulder so you can unzip the front pocket, and pull the dreaded love note from inside. Eyes roaming the paper once more, a small smile appears on your lips. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.” Then your expression turns more serious, and there’s a slight tremble in your voice. “And I’m so sorry that those jerks did that to you. That was terrible. But you don’t have to be embarrassed about me reading it. I love the note. Thank you for writing it.”

He can scarcely believe this conversation is happening. He’s thought about you standing in front of him like this for years — imagined what it would be like to have you look at him and really see him, the way you do right now. Now that he’s living it, it’s almost too much for him to handle.

You hesitate, like you’re unsure of what to say next. “Um, to be honest, I didn’t think you even knew who I was.”

“How could I not?” he says dazedly. The notion that he might not know who you are is absurd to him.

You shyly avert your eyes, like you’re overwhelmed by the praise. Pressing on, you tell him, “You did get one thing wrong, though.”

Eddie cocks his head to the side, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I’m not perfect — certainly not too perfect for you to come and talk to, or — or ask out. I think you’re a good guy.”

Is there air left in his lungs? It doesn’t feel like it. “Oh,” he manages faintly. He’s too scared to say anything else, that a single incorrect word will break this spell.

You give him a gentle smile. “So…are you busy right now?”

Eddie hides his shaking hand behind his back, blushing furiously. “No, I’m not busy right now. Actually, um, I’m not even allowed back here for the next three days, so…yeah, I’m — I’m pretty open.”

You nudge his arm playfully. “Do you wanna go do something?”

Even through his leather jacket the contact makes his skin tingle. “Yes!” he practically shouts, then lowers his volume. “Sorry. I mean, you read my note. So you understand that this is kind of a big deal for me.”

You laugh, and not unkindly. 

“Well, let’s get going then. We have a lot of time to make up for.”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #we're an hour late! sorry bout that

[steftastan]

Carian Stroll

“Tell Blaidd, and Iji…I love them.”

Before this piece, I had been wanting for a long time to create my own piece of Elden Ring fanart featuring Ranni. I had tried several sketches unsuccessfully, just wasn’t particularly feeling the ideas I had sketched up until that point.

One day of usual internet scrolling, I stumbled upon this gorgeous piece of art by Shimomura Kanzan.

I knew immediately I wanted to do something like this for my Elden Ring fanart. In fact, if you look at this piece, there is tons of inspiration that I drew from the original artwork, such as the style of the yellow leaves and the main subject matter being a prominent silhouette of the brightest value, placed at approximately the bottom third of the image.

The main character is cleverly shrouded amidst various layers of trees and foliage, giving us the impression that we're peeking into candid moment of their life. In the case of the fox, we caught it during a mid-day snack. In the case of Ranni and her party, we caught them in a leisurely stroll, while Iji outfits the dreaded Fingercreepers with their iconic rings.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to capture a happy moment, but Ranni goes as far as to ask us to deliver to Iji and Blaidd the message that she loves them dearly as her quest draws near its end. I would imagine they all must have had fun moments together as a family. Hey, maybe even the hands liked to be around them?

The process

I started this on my iPad using the procreate app. Sadly the full process is not captured on video, as I switched to Photoshop for the rendering phase of the illustration. This video is a fun window into my chaotic process and how I iterate on the fly on the same canvas. I probably wouldn't do that in a professional setting where you often need to have color keys and iterations to be reviewed and analyzed. I like to I cut myself some slack when doing personal art to keep things fun.

Trying and failing some more

This illustration was not a straightforward path. I haven’t been very diligent about personal art, and at some point I started deviating too much from my reference by adding too many levels of depth to the background and suffocating the piece. I got into a weird loop where I would randomly open the PSD, play around with the values, pushing Iji to the back, then bringing him back, cranking all the levers on Ranni, etc., decide it would look horrible, then begrudgingly determine I’d never complete this image and go on with my life.

As artists we likely have unfinished work sitting everywhere, be it in our sketchbooks, canvases, or hard drives. But it’s a different kind of sting when you feel like you can’t even nail the fundamentals.

Anyway, so a couple weeks ago, I decided to give it another go, but this time I would get rid of all the unnecessary stuff, even stuff that I had been trying to render for ages. I would not hold on to anything, I would try and recapture what drew me to Kanzan's beautiful painting to begin with.

After it became a matter of pushing and pulling pixels until the image was finished!

That’s about it. I didn’t go crazy in depth but lately I’ve been enjoying reading into artists’ processes and I’d be remiss to not share my own thought process also.

Thank you for viewing!

#elden ring #lunar princess ranni #blaidd the half wolf #war counselor iji #illustration #artists on tumblr #fromsoftware #digital art #video game #fanart #Youtube

[sanjisprincesswifey]

Happy Holidays <3. Can I get Law, Luffy, or Sanji for ur Secret Santa event and for a female reader? That Grinch Law post was too cute :]

Love ur content btw <333

happy holidays to you, sweet love! thank you so much for enjoying my content :)

you’ve received law + christmas lover x grinch character

❆: pushing my nerd law agenda, slightly suggestive, reader is implied female, 1000+ words!

the tinging smell of cinnamon and citrus burned through law’s senses.

when he had adhered to the complaints of his subordinates, agreeing to dock on the wintery island, he quickly came to realize how terrible of an idea that was.

if he could reverse time and punch himself in the face, he would.

the streets and store windows were decorated from floor to ceiling with wreaths, garlands, and so many lights law swore he would go blind.

it’s not that he hated all the extravaganza of this holiday, it just…wasn’t for him. too noisy, fragrances that could cause migraines the second they appeared, and not to mention the affection that he was doomed to receive.

as law rounds the corner of a main street, the band that he previously wasn’t paying any mind to, now boomed off the stone buildings and rattled inside his head.

he finds sanctuary in a small shop that was similarly dressed as the many others he passed by, but was quiet as he stepped inside.

the store contained many items: handmade jewlery, art, postcards, basic touristy crap that wouldn’t interest him any other day. but now that he had you on his mind, consider his interested piqued as he diligently observes the items for something you’d like.

“captain?” you call, tapping his shoulder.

speak of the devil.

when law turns to you, his boiler suit had been discarded for a simple red dress with white frills lining the edges. instead of scolding you for removing your uniform, he was at a loss for words. a lump remaining in his throat as he gives you a once over.

the curves of your body so effortlessly hugged by your outfit, features he has not yet been able to fully appreciate.

“not a fan of all the joy?” you joke, innocently smiling up at him. you bite at your bottom lip so sweetly, he has to fight back a groan.

he awkwardly chuckles, reaching to scratch the back of his neck. “it was just, uh, a bit too loud for me,” he explains, nodding his head as you pass by him. “you know me.”

it’s your turn nod, squeezing his bicep slightly. “yeah, i do,” you hum, taking your own opportunity to look around the store.

his gaze is obligated to follow you and his legs soon join.

should he compliment you? tell you how…pretty…you look today?

wait…how would he even say that?

what is the protocol here? you had only been dating for a couple months.

you’d probably laugh in his face, like the loser he is.

“law?” you say a bit louder, recollecting his attention.

his steel gray eyes glance over to you and then to the box of coins that are displayed on the table below.

“don’t you collect these?” you smile, holding up a commemorative coin that you were clueless about.

law nods, an uncharacteristically, goofy smile etching his face as he picks up a couple, inspecting them with incredible attention to detail.

“i do, i haven’t seen these before though,” he exasperatingly says, eyeing the item as if he were a kid in the candy store. “you know, they don’t even print this kind anymore.”

you fight back a giggle, “wow, really?”

enthusiastically nodding, he begins to educate you on the history of these specific coins, unraveling long tangents that you couldn’t understand even if you wanted to.

there’s a faint blush in his cheeks as he searches through the box, displaying for you each kind of coin.

you notice a pile set aside; they must’ve been for him to purchase.

“getting those?” you question, putting an abrupt end to his speech.

“think so, don’t have them yet so might as well, right?” he picks them up from the table, observing them in his hand right as you reach up to cup his hand.

by his widened eyes and averting gaze you can tell he doesn’t understand what you’re doing. but he don’t pull away from your touch, just stands there, confused as you snatch the coins and hurry to the register to pay.

his brows furrow as he watches you and the clerk exchange niceties, then berries, and finally he hands you a bag with the goodies inside.

wiggling the bag in his face, you take his hand and lead him out of the store.

“just snagged your christmas present,” you tease, tongue poking from the side of your mouth.

the music from before resumes, but this time law doesn’t mind as much. he feels your fingers entangle with his, guiding him with you as you lead him to a much more private street.

this street had been adorned with icicle lights, a gentle yellow hue coating the area.

you don’t release his hand from your hold and with his tightened grip on you, you figure he doesn’t mind all that much.

taking the opportunity, you lean in closer, resting your head on his arm as the two of you stroll down the narrow path.

a flush colors his face when he stiffens just a bit too much to go unnoticed by you.

“still so nervous,” you coo, the softness in your tone enough melt his heart.

“when you’re wearing that i can’t really help it,” he laughs. “kinda been speechless since i first saw you.”

“ah,” you sigh, leaning up to plant a soft peck on his cheek. “look at me, being wooed by the surgeon of death.”

“not just today,” he interrupts, clearly stuck in his own train of thought. “from the moment i first met you, i couldn’t stop thinking about you and what you do to me.”

you glance down the street, satisfied that the few people who once occupied the area had vacated. the blue feathers of law’s jacket collar ruffle underneath your touch as you drag him with you into a secluded alleyway.

his fingers thread through your hair while his other hand hits the wall to protect you from collision.

“and what do i do to you?” you whisper against his lips, keeping only centimeters between you two.

before he gets the chance to respond either verbally or physically, his transponder snail starts to ring which draws a long exasperated sigh from the both of you.

“i was actually enjoying myself for once,” he grits before the onslaught of cries come from his prone-to-trouble crew members.

“look who loves christmas now,” you joke, pinching his cheek.

though he rolls his eyes, by the smile that perks at the corners of his lips you can tell it’s just for show.

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #one piece #one piece x reader

[bambiimutt]

hiii!!! Can you do masky as a father figure to edgy emo/scene teens? 👀

Father Figure Masky

Of course I can my love!! I actually haven’t thought of doing something like this so I’ll give it a shot!!

ೃ࿔*:･

Not any tw’s if I missed any please let me know. Just some wholesome Tim! Lots of fluff!

-I feel like he probably finds you in a Library. He doesn’t go often but when he usually spots you. you’re always reading a book or sometimes drawing. He never sees your parents so he assumes you must be old enough to be out on your own.

-he’s typically in there for.. well not really anything. To get away from the noise. From the typical people. He usually sits in a corner, book in hand slightly slouching in his chair, legs crossed over each other. His satchel usually sits beside the squeaky chair, occasionally he pops a pill, swallowing down water and going back to whatever he’s reading.

-you come in one afternoon, grabbing the book you’ve been reading the last couple of weeks and heading towards your spot. But when you arrive you’re met with a few teenagers from you school. “Shit.” You’re quick to turn on your heel before they see you and try to find some other quiet corner to sit in. And when you do someone else just so happens to be sitting there.

-you clear your throat. “Uhm..” Tim looks up from his book, eyebrow cocked. It’s you. “S-sorry. Uhm. Do you mind if I sit here. I won’t bother you or anything.” He’s silent for a moment, his fingers curling at the page before he closes the book. You’re quick to roll your eyes when you don’t get a response “hellooo?” You wave your book in his face before he speaks “g’ahead” he moves up slightly and watches you carefully. He takes note of your funky hair, how it isn’t natural. The piercings on your face and the clothes you wear.

- this is all where it kinda started. You’d start sitting with him whenever you knew he was there, he’d learn why you were always here, how your parents just never treated you the greatest and the only way to escape was to come to the library.

-you finally ask him one day why he takes so many pills, why he needs so much medication. And oddly enough he feels okay to open up to you about those things.

-I think he would feel some sort of comfort. He likes that your different then others. In a way you’re like him, but maybe not so violent. And he tries to keep that part of him away from you. He tries to just be the happy him, but it’s hard when he’s been out all night blacked out stalking innocent individuals.

-he ends up buying you some art supplies. He first took note of your artistic skills from the moment he seen you. He likes the weird things you draw, it almost eases his mind to know he’s not the only one with weird stupid scary thoughts.. though you are more of a edgy teenager.. he’s just not normal.

-your name in his phone is kiddo. He probably sends you stupid fucking memes he finds on the internet that he thinks are so Hilarious but they’re actually so fucking cringy.

-Calling him dad for the first time. Yeah it kinda just slips out and he’s shook. You think he’s angry, uncomfortable but he’s in pure SHOCK. Really? You look at him like that? That’s so… sweet. He cares for you deeply and wants to see you go far. So the fact that you see him like that.. damn you might have just wiggled right into his heart.

-it takes him some time getting used to it but at some point he fully allows you to call him dad. He’ll pick you up from school, he’s always the one to listen to you when it comes to bullies at school, he buys you lunch, makes sure you have school supplies that you need. You call him asking him to pick you up because you don’t wanna be there anymore? He’s on his way.

-“can you take me to the MCR comeback concert?”

“Fuck no.”

-Trust me he’d love to take you to those things but his money goes to his medications and his house, he’d rather have a roof over his head then be surrounding by teenagers crying and screaming. Butttt.. that doesn’t stop him from buying you things that you’re interested in. Band shirts, new hair dye, comics, etc.. he even goes out of his way to make sure you have new things, new phone.. whatever you want. I think he’s taking the dad role straight to the heart.. but it makes him happy.

-if you were ever in a situation to be put up for adoption. He’s 100% willing to adopt you. But if you’re old enough to be moved out, he’s got a bedroom all set up for you.

-he takes his road trips.. and fully takes pride on the fact that he listens to dad rock. He sings horribly to the music while you groan and plug your ears, and searching frantically for your headphones “dad please! Shut up!”

-he does let you play your music majority of the time though, and he actually doesn’t mind any of it. He thinks it’s pretty cool.

-“I bought hair dye..” you look at Tim and sway side to side, hands behind your back. He stares at you from the couch before shutting his eyes and sighing “alright, grab a plastic bag and get to the bathroom.” He always dyes your hair. And he’s always wrapping the damn plastic bag around your head too tight. “Gotta make sure that dye stays in there” and gives you the meanest dad back slap.

-if you ever graduate, he’s in the back of the stadium watching you proudly from afar. And of course he has gifts for you, what kind of father would he be if he hadn’t. Once you’re both in the car he’s got a small box and a large bag ready for you. Some new clothes, items and those damn concert tickets you always talk about.

-he’s a good papa. He’d never judge you for your interests nor what you looked like. He thinks you’re super bad ass and he’s proud to be such an important figure in your life.

#creepypasta #masky x reader #ticci toby #ben drowned #jeff the killer #tim wright #tim wright x reader #masky marble hornets

[mint-yooxgi]

{16} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor, Smut (Save a horse, ride a cowboy)

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on ??? 👀)

Words: 15,600

Warnings: Blood, lots of it. Minor cutting of skin mentioned. Mentions of past insecurities. Praise, slight body worship, face sitting, minor breast play, intense emotional intimacy, marking/biting, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), possessive natures, love confessions. (I think that’s all). This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Here it is! The next part!! Thank you all for waiting so patiently for me to finish this part, I really hope it lives up to everyone’s expectations!! I’m really proud for the build up in this one, I think it’s honestly more important/significant than the actual smut, so I tried to emphasize that. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Mini Masterlist

The next day, you wake up actually feeling fully rested for once. Your head no longer throbs, and you find that there’s a slight spring to your step. Seems as if Hongjoong really eased your worries yesterday more than you both realized.

Getting ready for the day takes you no time at all, and you figure you’ll spend it doing something exciting. Since they have another council in a few days, perhaps you can convince one of them to take you out of the house for a little bit, even if it’s just for an hour or so.

An idea strikes you then. Perhaps you’ll ask Yunho to take you out to see Brego once more, considering you haven’t seen your horse in a little while. Besides, you’d be together the whole time, so it’s not like Miyeon could just show up out of the blue and attack you.

Which is exactly how you find yourself brushing up against that all too familiar yellow string in the early hours of the afternoon.

Is everything alright, Petal? Always, your comfort and wellbeing are the first things on his mind.

Of course, you smile, quick to reassure him. I was just wondering where you were.

Oh, the genuine surprise you can hear in his voice has you chuckling, and you know that it’s pleasant on his part, nonetheless. You’ve never really inquired about where any of them are in the house before, simply wandering around until you spot one of them, or they find you. I’m in my art room, Petal. You’re more than welcome to come and join me, if you’d like.

Your breath hitches as your heart positively flutters in your chest. You have been meaning to ask him to show you his art room as of late, but you just haven’t found a way to bring it up. You never want to seem pushy or entitled about entering his own space, which is why it makes you so unbelievably happy now that he’s invited you into his studio.

I’ll be right there, you smile faintly, already thinking to yourself how this is a much  better way to spend your day than you originally had planned. Perhaps if there’s time, you can still do both. It is quite early in the afternoon, after all.

Keeping your mind open to him, you begin to make your way towards their side of the house and upstairs to Yunho’s art room. Once outside the door, you raise your hand to knock, only for Yunho to suddenly be standing before you in the open archway. A soft smile rests on his face as he chuckles at your surprised expression.

“I heard you coming,” his voice is low, a gentle rumble as he steps aside for the moment. “Please, come in.”

His heart positively warms as he sees you smile faintly at him, slowly crossing the threshold into the room. The whole while you had been walking over here, he could hear the excitement lingering in your thoughts at him showing you his art. A fact of which could not have made him giddier, or any more nervous than he already is.

Sure, Yunho is more than willing to show you anything and everything of his art if you ask, but there will always be that lingering uncertainty within himself surrounding how you may react. Which is why your eagerness is like a breath of fresh air to him.

Stepping into the room, you are careful not to let your gaze linger for too long, except to stare at your feet. You do not want to simply barge in and assume you can look at whatever you’d like. Besides, you’d rather have him show you the parts of himself that he’s comfortable with.

Either way, you both strongly acknowledge the significance of this moment, especially as your thoughts wash over him unashamedly through your mental connection. Another fact which makes his heart sing in his chest, a fondness shining in his eyes as he closes the door softly once more.

“You can look around, Petal.” He chuckles softly, noticing how you have still yet to lift your gaze from your feet. “I don’t mind.”

Finally, you raise your head to meet his eyes, and the softest look he’s ever seen you give him rests on your features. Yunho’s heart positively flutters in response.

“Would you like me to look around, or would you like to show me?” Your tone is low, voice barely above a whisper as your eyes sparkle with that lingering anticipation that he’s only ever dreamed of seeing from you directed towards him.

Yunho smiles, a gentle pull of his lips upwards as he gazes at you with such love in his eyes.

“Come then,” he extends his hand out to you, “let me show you.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, you take a step forward, placing your hand in his.

Gently, he guides you through the room, showing you some of his earlier paintings that he’s kept throughout the years of various buildings, plants, and animals. With each new painting, you can see his art style taking shape, noticing the improvement as he compares them to later pieces he’s completed. There are many different types of art, too. Paintings, drawings, sculptures: anything and everything you can think of, he’s created at some point or other. 

Each reaction you give him, expression full of awe resting on your features, combined with the shameless way your thoughts echo throughout his head, he drinks in. Yunho absolutely revels in your praises, both subtle and not, and with each passing minute, that worry from earlier dissipates, only further proving how perfect you are for him.

You then take a moment to fully take in the room after he’s shown you the majority of paintings resting against the walls, as well as the canvases rolled up in stacks in the corners. A red velvet antique couch rests off to the side beside the large bay windows, the sunlight filtering in unashamedly and shining off of all of the pieces that you can see. A few easels rest off to the side, one sitting in the middle of the room facing away from you as a stool and a small table with art supplies scattered across the top rest beside it. That must be the piece he’s currently working on.

There also seems to be a few closets lining the room, seeing as one is full of supplies as you peek through the opening. The other remains closed for the moment. A few shelves line the wall closest to the hallway door, filled with little sculptures and sketchbooks, one of which he pulls off of the one shelf.

“Here,” he hands you the black sketchbook. “This is my most recent one.”

Carefully, you take the book from his outstretched hand, an excitement shining in your eyes.

“May I?” You can’t hide the eagerness in your tone as you grasp onto the sketchbook for dear life.

Yunho smiles. “I want you to.”

“Okay,” you mirror his expression, gaze drifting to the black cover as you turn the first page.

A gasp escapes your lips as the first drawing you are greeted by just so happens to be a peony. One of your favourite flowers.

Turning a few more pages, you notice how this sketchbook seems to have a common theme. Each new drawing that is revealed relates to you in some way or other. More sketches of your favourite flowers are on the next few pages, along with your favourite fruits, a picture of your shelves which house your own collection of books and trinkets, as well as some of your favourite animals. Though, the further you get into the sketchbook, the more intimate the drawings become.

Sliding a finger beneath the next page, you drag your hand up the side of the book. What appears to be a case study of your own hands stare back at you, though that’s not what catches your eye first. No, the largest sketch right in the middle of the page is of two hands, intertwined together with their fingers locked in embrace.

You recognize it immediately.

Sparing a glance up at Yunho, you notice he’s moved to sit on his stool resting just beside his easel for the moment. He smiles at you, somewhat nervously as your gaze once more darts down to the sketch of your intertwined hands on the page.

Your lips pull upwards softly in the corners as you stare at the memory, preserved on paper, of the first time you ever held his hand. Your heart skips a beat as you recall that very moment now.

You turn the page.

This time, the sight you are greeted with is another sketch of your hands, only this time, they seem to be weaving flowers together steadily. You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat as you watch the image come alive in your mind, seeing yourself creating that same flower crown which hangs proudly beside the large windows, on full display to any and all that enter the room.

The next image you see is of you, standing right next to Brego as you lean into him. You recognize the field you’re standing in as the one right outside of the stables, and you know that these are his own memories being drawn on the pages in real time. 

Your heart begins to race in your chest.

A few more pages are simple sketches of you, candid pictures from times where he’s been looking at you, or you at him, that Yunho has wanted to commemorate as best he can for the time being. One is of you sitting around that table at the mall with all of them, and how you looked as excitement flashed in your eyes. Another is of you standing between bookshelves, condemning such a vile man as you passed your judgement for all to hear. Though, the one that makes you smile the most is the one in which you seem to be holding a tiny little kitten in your arms, an awe filled expression on your features as you smile at whoever it is you’re looking towards. Of course, you know it’s him.

Turning to what appears to be the last page filled in the sketchbook, your lips part as a silent gasp escapes you. There, staring back at you from the page, is your own soft expression, an extremely fond look in your eyes as you gaze almost lovingly at the person on the receiving end.

A warmth blossoms in your chest as you understand this to be the very day they told you about Miyeon, and the way you embraced Yunho as soon as he got back home. The fact that he wanted to commemorate this, all of these moments with you, makes your heart simply flutter inside your chest.

“Yunho,” the way you breathe his name, such tender affection dripping from your tone as you meet his gaze with that look he’s always only dreamed about being on the receiving end of, has his own heart thundering away in his chest. “These are beautiful.”

Another wave of relief washes over him, and he cannot fight the smile that stretches broadly across his lips. “Thank you, Petal.”

“Thank you,” softly, you close the sketchbook. “For sharing this with me.”

“Of course, Petal,” his gaze is soft as he looks towards you. “Though, I’m not done yet.”

“There’s more?” The excitement he can hear bleeding into your tone has him chuckling softly.

“Plenty,” he nods, that loving smile still pulling at his lips. “There are three more that I want to show you right now. Wait here.”

“Okay,” you find yourself repeating your word from earlier as he stands quickly from his stool.

Making his way towards the side door that’s still closed, Yunho is quick to open it and step inside. The small room is filled to the brim with artwork - canvases and the like - all depicting you or the things that you love. For now, though, he’ll reveal them to you slowly, as he can tell you’re already overwhelmed by your emotions at being shown his other pieces for the moment.

Grabbing two canvases, he’s quick to make his way back to you.

Hearing him approach, you turn back around to face him after gently setting his sketchbook back onto the shelf he got it from. You notice him lean one of the canvases against the side of the small table before motioning for you to come closer.

You do.

The angle you stand at still keeps the main canvas on his easel currently out of sight, but that does not matter all too much to you right now. Especially not when he turns the canvas currently held in his hand around to face you.

A small gasp escapes your lips as you see a bouquet of your favourite flowers staring back at you. The detailing alone, even of the ribbon of your favourite colour wrapping around their stems to tie them all together, has your jaw dropping.

The painting doesn’t even look like a painting at all, for the image that stares back at you appears as if it’s a picture, printed out and displayed like a photograph.

“Thank you, Petal,” Yunho grins, hearing your thoughts wash over him shamelessly as you still have yet to close your void to him since entering the room.

“Yunho, this is…” you attempt to find the right words as your eyes flit over every inch of the canvas before you, “incredible.” You meet his gaze, eyes shining as you do. “You’re incredible.”

“Thank you, Petal,” Yunho’s heart leaps inside his chest, a warmth flooding through his veins as he smiles. “Your words mean more to me than you’ll ever know.”

“This all means more to me than you’ll ever know,” briefly, your eyes dart around his art room before meeting his own once more.

Yunho doesn’t even need to look into your mind to know how truthful those words you have just spoken are. Still, the significance behind them floods his very soul, causing his breath to catch in his throat, tears threatening to begin lining the corners of his eyes at any second.

After another minute of observing the painting, Yunho slowly puts it down to grab the other canvas he has leaning against the table.

“You’ve already seen a version of this one before, but I couldn’t help myself,” he admits, turning the canvas around to face you as a soft smile paints his lips.

Your eyes widen in awe as you see one of the same sketches from the book you’ve just looked through staring back at you.

There you stand in that open field, holding onto Brego as you lean into him. Your head is turning towards your horse, a gentle expression on your features as his mane sways in the breeze. Again, it looks as if someone took a photograph and printed it onto the canvas before you.

Your throat tightens, suddenly overcome by your emotions as you place a hand over your chest. You can feel the way your heart pounds beneath your skin as your eyes shine with such awe and adoration.

“I love it,” you whisper, voice gentle as you meet his gaze. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

Yunho’s heart simply flutters in his chest as a bashful smile stretches across his features. “Thank you, Petal.”

“Seriously, Yunho,” you breathe, the fondness dripping from your tone. “I appreciate you sharing this part of yourself with me. I am honoured to see every piece you have shown me today.”

This time, you don’t fail to miss the way he suddenly has to blink back tears as he places the canvas gently back against the table.

“I’m just glad you like them,” his voice is raw, rough from the emotions coursing through his veins in this very moment.

“Like them?” You meet his gaze. “Darling, I love them.”

Yunho swallows thickly, your words meaning everything to him at this very moment. There’s a certain light now shining behind his eyes. A light of which you think you’re beginning to understand.

Finally, he has found that one person that he can share every part of himself with, and who is glad to learn everything there is to know about him. Finally, he has found you, that long since added piece of his soul needed to feel like he is two hundred percent himself again.

You are his Muse. His Petal. His everything. And he will stop at nothing to prove that to you. To prove that his love is true.

“Come,” once more, he extends his hand out to you in offering. “There’s one final piece that I want you to see.”

Briefly glancing down at his hand, you notice the way his fingers tremble slightly in what appears to be nervousness. Sending him a soft, reassuring smile, you step into his embrace.

The feeling of your hand gently wrapping around his own has his heart racing inside his chest, making this moment all the more real for him. This moment, and what he’s about to show you, could not be any more significant to him right now. From the way that he sees you smiling at him, he knows you know it, too.

“I just finished it last night, and I think it’s the crown jewel of my collection,” he admits, allowing you to take a step toward him. “Close your eyes.”

You blink once in mild confusion before doing as told.

In an instant, you can feel him coming to stand behind you, slowly guiding you around the table and to face the final canvas he has resting on the easel in the centre of the room. His grip is firm, but not so much as to hurt you, more so from his own nerves racing throughout his entire body.

Taking a deep breath, Yunho leans in to whisper in your ear. “Open your eyes.”

Immediately, you do as told, blinking a few times to clear your vision as your gaze focuses in on the canvas in front of you. The way your breath hitches in your throat as you observe the painting before you is synonymous with the way your legs give out beneath you. Yunho’s hands immediately move to support your waist as your back presses against his chest.

You don’t even realize you’ve started crying until you raise a hand to cover your mouth, feeling the first of your tears on your skin as you look at the most beautiful piece of artwork that you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

There, resting on the canvas in perfect colour, shines your image, smiling with a crown of flowers resting on your head. A familiar clearing surrounds you in the background as the sun illuminates your figure.

Radiant would not even begin to describe how you look in this painting right now.

“Yunho, I-“ your voice catches in your throat as you slowly lower your hand, heart racing inside your chest as an unbelievable warmth swells within you, filling your lungs with every breath you take. “I don’t know what to say."

Finally, you manage to steady yourself on your feet, Yunho’s hands still gripping firmly at your waist as you lean into him.

“Do you like it?” His voice is low, rumbling out right by your ear as you sense a hint of nervousness to him as he clings onto you for dear life.

“I-“ your voice catches in your throat, overcome by your emotions for the moment, “I love it.” Your reply is breathlessly, and you can feel his grip tighten around your waist.

You take a hesitant step forward and out of his arms, before halting in your tracks. Yunho follows your every move, a fond expression on his features as a warmth blooms in his chest.

“Is this-“ you turn to glance back at him from over your shoulder, “Are you sure that’s me?”

Your voice trembles the slightest bit from the emotions swimming through your very soul. Emotions of which Yunho can feel echoing shamelessly throughout his own mind. Emotions of which have a warmth unlike any other flooding his veins as he is overcome by your awe, your gratitude, but more than all of that, your love.

“Of course it’s you, Petal,” he smiles, eyes shining as you turn back around to face the canvas. He takes this opportunity to step forwards and wrap you back into his arms, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Why would you ever think otherwise?”

“I-“ your voice catches once more in your throat as you swallow, “I don’t think I’ve ever looked that beautiful in my entire life.”

“Nonsense,” Yunho chuckles, his arms tightening around your waist ever so slightly. “You always look like that, Petal.” He leans in closer to your ear, voice dropping subtly. “Beautiful. Radiant. Regal.”

Your breath hitches, and you find yourself resting your one hand over his arms wrapped around your waist.

“I don’t-“ you attempt to blink back your tears. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s because, Petal,” he chuckles, pulling you closer into his chest, that sense of nervousness long since having fled from his body as he completely revels in this moment with you. “This is how you always appear to me. I painted you exactly as I see you; exactly as you are. I am just glad I could finally show you your true beauty through my art.”

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears.

“Am I-“ you blink once more, another tear falling from your eyes, “am I really that beautiful?”

Yunho’s gaze softens as he rests his head gently against your own, his lips tugging upwards slightly in the corners.

“Of course you are, Petal,” he squeezes you slightly while still holding you in his arms. “Do not ever doubt that for a single second.”

Turning around in his embrace, you stare deeply into his eyes. Your lips part slightly as your gaze shines with such tender love and affection, that Yunho gladly drowns himself in it. A look which he knows is mirrored on his own face right now as he holds you to him.

“I’m beautiful?” Your eyes search his own as your hands come up to cup his cheeks.

“Every second of every day,” he confirms with a soft tone, a faint smile tugging at his lips as his own hands tighten their grip on your waist.

“I’m beautiful.” This time, it’s not a question that you pose, but rather a statement. A statement which makes his heart swell in his chest as you say so, because he knows you’re starting to believe it, too.

“Yes,” he nods eagerly, breath hitching in his throat as he continues to stare deeply into your eyes. “You are, Petal. Always.”

“I am beautiful,” you breathe, and you watch as a brilliant smile takes over his features, eagerly nodding along with your words once more as a single tear falls from his eyes. “And you have made me believe it.”

Immediately, Yunho pulls you into his embrace. One of his hands rest on the back of your head as he cradles you to his chest, while the other wraps securely around your waist. You can feel his chest shaking with his sobs as he holds you to him, a happiness unlike any other surrounding you both as you cling onto each other for dear life.

“Thank you,” your voice is raw with your own emotions as you whisper into his ear, tears falling freely down your cheeks and soaking into the material of his shirt. “Yunho, thank you.”

His grip tightens subtly on your body, burying his nose into the side of your neck and inhaling your scent deeply. A comfort unlike anything that he’s ever felt before settles within his very bones as he attempts to catch his breath. His heart swells, happy to know that you finally believe what he and his brothers have always known to be true.

You are beautiful. Mind, body, and soul. Always.

“I’m glad I could make you believe,” he whispers, voice strained with the weight and implications of his own words. 

A few of his own tears land on your shoulder as he pulls you in impossibly closer, absolutely revelling in this moment with you. There is no greater gift you could have given him today than sharing in these tender moments with him. The fact that you have opened your heart up to him in so many ways, over such a short period of time, has him overcome by a deep happiness that he has not felt in centuries. Not to mention how receptive you are to his art: to him.

“I am so in love with you, Petal,” he breathes out, pulling away to stare deeply into your eyes. “I will spend every day of the rest of our lives proving that to you, in whatever ways that I can. You mean everything to me. I love you. So much.”

Your hands have once more found purchase on his cheeks, cradling him gently in your palms as you search his face for any signs of hesitance or uncertainty.

You find none.

“Yunho,” the way you breathe out his name has his heart fluttering away in his chest, skin tingling as he feels you beginning to brush your thumbs over his cheeks softly. “I am in love with every part of you.”

Yunho’s breath hitches in his throat, and despite the fact that he does not actually need air to breathe, he forgets how to for the moment. Tears gather in his eyes once more as your words wash over him, and he knows that were his hands not firmly gripping your waist right now, they would be trembling uncontrollably. Even still, he can feel his whole body beginning to shake as he stares into your eyes.

“My Queen,” his voice nearly catches in his throat, the first of his tears spilling over from his eyes for the second time in the past five minutes. 

You do not hesitate to wipe them away before pulling him into your embrace once more.

For a solid minute, the two of you revel in each other’s touch, simply basking in one another’s presence. Nothing could take this moment away from you, right here, right now. All too soon, you’re leaning away to stare deeply into his eyes.

“Please, do not cry, My King,” the way you hear his breath hitch slightly as you say this has a gentle smile tugging at your features.

“I cannot help it, My Queen,” he blinks, leaning further into your touch as you brush the remainder of his lingering tears away. “You have just made me so unbelievably happy, that I cannot control my emotions.”

“Then, what I’m about to say should make you even happier,” you smile, staring deeply into his eyes with such fondness shining within your own.

“Simply being with you makes me happy, Petal,” he says honestly, fingers digging a littler firmer into your skin. “Any time spent with you is time well spent.”

Your heart swells with warmth in your chest, pulling him in that much closer to you.

“You took the words right out of my mouth, Universe.” You hum contently as your gaze flits all over his face, eyes briefly lingering on his lips. “My Universe.”

Yunho swears his heart has stopped beating for the moment as your words settle over him. A roar of happiness wants to escapes him, but he fears it might shatter the windows were he to allow himself the pleasure of releasing it. This moment could not be any more significant to him, nor could what you have just said mean any more to him than it already does. Honestly, this day could not go any better than it has, and to him, it’s only just begun. The fact that your thoughts still echo shamelessly through his own mind is simply icing on the cake.

A fleeting thought of yours has him glancing down at your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own. He pulls you impossibly closer.

You smile at him, such tender love and affection dripping from your gaze. Only, instead of leaning in like he thought you would do, you slowly pull away, creating a little bit of space in between your two bodies.

“Thank you for today, Yunho,” you begin, sliding your hands down his neck in order to rest your palms over his shoulders, and feeling him shiver beneath your touch. “I will cherish these memories for as long as I live.”

Yunho smiles softly, giving your waist a small squeeze beneath his grip. “Will you keep me company for a little while longer?”

“I would love to,” you reply, stepping lightly out of his embrace.

“Actually, if you’re alright with it, I would love to draw you right now,” he admits, a hopeful gleam resting inside his loving gaze.

Your heart skips a beat. “I would be honoured.”

Five minutes later and you’re sitting on one end of the couch while Yunho rests on the other. That all too familiar black sketchbook is in his hands, a pencil gently scratching against the page. Though, he doesn’t have you sitting in any particular pose for the moment, simply stating that he wants to preserve this moment in its raw glory for years to come.

For the next forty minutes, the two of you softly converse between each other as he draws you. Neither of you want to disturb the moment you’ve created, simply happy to bask in each other’s presence with idle small talk filling the silence. In fact, the original reason for seeking him out practically slips your mind, perfectly content to spend the day with him like this instead.

Still, you have yet to close off your mind.

“Alright,” Yunho’s voice manages to pull you out of your thoughts a few minutes later as you watch him sit forward on the couch, “I’m finished.”

Immediately, you scoot closer to him, wrapping your arms around one of his own as you lean into him. Glancing down at the page, you see a beautiful sketch of yourself staring back at you, and once again that sense of awe and wonder fills your veins.

“You’re incredible,” you breathe, resting your head against his shoulder as you continue to observe the image before you.

“Thank you, Petal,” a blush begins to creep up his neck, his whole body warming as he feels you clinging onto him. “I’m just glad I can capture your beauty like this, and that you like it.”

“I love it, Yunho.” You turn your head ever so slightly to glance at his profile, a tender smile gracing your features as you place a lingering kiss onto his cheek. “I love you.”

You can feel the pleased growl reverberate throughout his entire body as you say this, only causing you to chuckle.

“I am curious, though,” you begin, and you notice the way he gently closes the sketchbook only to turn his gaze to you in the next moment. “Is there anything you’ve ever wanted to paint but you have yet to do so?”

Something within his eyes flash as he meets your gaze. “You, Petal.”

You blink, “you mean like me posing for you?”

“Not quite,” he chuckles. “Though, I would never say ‘no’ to that if you offered.”

Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, gaze drifting to the canvas in the middle of the room with your image proudly displayed on it. “I don’t understand.”

“Sure, I’ve painted your image before,” he hums, noticing how you lean slightly away from him to stare into his eyes. “However, I long for the day where you will allow me to paint you.”

Once more, you blink. Until realization hits you.

“Oh. Oh,” your eyes widen ever so slightly as a heat blooms on your cheeks. “You want to paint me. My body.”

“More than anything,” he breathes, his hands subconsciously tightening around the sketchbook still clutched in his grasp. “Only if you’re comfortable with it, though. I would never expect it of you, nor do I want you to ever be uncomfortable-“ his words get caught in his throat as he watches you lean slightly away from him in order for you to slip off your shirt. His eyes nearly bug out of his head, “what are you doing?”

Folding your shirt and draping it over the back of the couch, you turn back to him.

“You said you wanted to paint me, no?” Your smile is soft, the slightest of quirks to your brow.

“I did,” he confirms, his voice slightly strained as he goes to clear his throat. Briefly, his eyes flit over your now exposed torso, breath hitching as he sees you wearing a yellow laced bra. His favourite colour. “I do.”

“What better time than the present?” You inquire, meeting his gaze once more. “My back should suffice for now. Then, we can take it from there. Okay?”

The fact that you’re even letting him paint your back for the moment fills him with a sense of love unlike ever before. Not only that, but the fact that you trust him enough to be this vulnerable with him has a warmth unlike any other flooding his veins.

Yunho will never forget this, for as long as he lives. The intimacy of this moment alone has his head spinning. Besides, the added implication that you’ll possibly allow him to paint more than just your back for the moment has a content rumble building in his chest.

“As long as you’re comfortable, Petal,” his words are slightly strained with the significance of this moment, his emotions swirling unashamedly through his chest as he meets your eyes.

“Of course I am, Universe,” you smile at him reassuringly. “I trust you.”

The way you can visibly see his throat bob as he swallows his emotions has you placing a gentle hand onto his arm once more.

“As long as you are comfortable, Yunho.”

Turning his head to meet your gaze, he gives you a soft nod, his eyes shining with his overwhelming emotions. You can see the joy clearly represented there, but also the love, affection, and care swirling within as well. Not to mention the excitement.

“Where would you like me to sit?” Your voice is soft as you tilt your head slightly in inquiry.

In the blink of an eye, Yunho has made a simple wooden chair appear in front of him.

“Is this okay?” He turns to look at you once more, carefully observing your features to see if he can find any hint of discomfort or hesitance from you.

He finds none.

“This is perfect,” you shoot him a reassuring smile as you move from the couch to the chair. You cross your arms over the top of the back, resting your chin over them in the next moment. “Will this be okay for you?”

“Of course, Petal,” he replies softly, the tips of his fingers reaching out to trail gently over the skin of your shoulder blade, and causing a shiver to run down your spine. “Just let me grab my paint, and I’ll get started.”

Just as Yunho goes to stand from the couch, your next words nearly have him stumbling over his own feet.

“Oh, so you are going to use paint, then?” There’s a hint of curiosity in your voice, and even as he searches your thoughts, he cannot seem to figure out what other implications you could be referring to.

Besides, he doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

“What else did you think I would be using, Petal?” He chuckles, moving to step around you in the next second as he goes to place his sketchbook onto the table.

You catch his gaze, and the intensity he sees swirling within you orbs has him freezing in his tracks once more; Yunho stands completely mesmerized by you for the moment, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“Sure, you can use paint if you still want,” you shrug, seemingly nonchalantly. “I just thought since it’d be your first time painting me, you would want to use something a little more intimate.”

Yunho’s gaze darkens as he licks his lips, “intimate how, Petal?”

“You’re the artist, Universe,” you grin deviously. “What do you think I mean?”

Oh, there are many different interpretations to your words. Ones which Yunho gladly, and shamelessly, indulges in right now, thoughts flitting through his mind of all the different intimate ways he could paint you in him.

At the way you see his eyes swirl with that all too familiar blackness, you chuckle.

“Use your blood, Yunho,” you watch as his eyes flash black, a pleased growl escaping him as he maintains eye contact with you as your words wash over him. “I want you to paint me in you.”

“My Queen,” he breathes out, attempting to control himself for the time being. “Do you understand the meaning behind something so intimate?”

“I do,” you nod once, a knowing smile stretching across your features as you move to undo the clasp of your bra behind you. Once the offending material has been removed from your body, you’re leaning forward, resting your chin on top of your crossed arms over the back of the chair once more. “Which is why I am offering myself to you, My King.”

“Those are dangerous words, Petal.” Yunho swallows once more, slowly stalking back towards you with dark eyes.

“Then these will be even more so,” you grin, your own eyes flashing as you watch him take a seat once more on the couch behind you. You glance at him from over your shoulder, “because once you’re done, I’m going to paint you.”

Yunho doesn’t even attempt to suppress the pleased growl that rumbles from his chest as he pulls the chair right between his open legs. You can feel the warmth of his body radiating against your back as he strokes a tender hand down your spine, his thighs encasing your own.

Carefully, you extend your back upwards, stretching your spine and displaying your bare skin to him fully. A dangerous smirk tugs at your lips as you spare him another glance form over your shoulder, noticing how he barely suppresses the darkness swirling in his eyes as he studies the beautiful blank canvas before him.

“Paint me in you, My King,” your voice is but a low drawl on your lips, causing a shiver to race down his spine. “Mark me as yours.”

“As you wish, My Queen,” a pleased rumble is all you receive from him in response as you feel him lean into you.

Your whole body jolts as you feel him place his lips against the skin of your back, right in-between your shoulder blades. Slowly, he trails sensual kisses upwards against your spine as his hands find purchase on your sides, thumbs stroking at the skin tenderly. Your breath hitches as you feel him bite down lightly on the back of your neck, right where it meets your shoulder.

“Mine,” the word is but a low growl against your skin, and you cannot help the way your heart positively flutters in response.

Yunho smirks hearing your reaction loud and clear.

Reluctantly, he pulls away from you, his hands leaving your sides for the moment as he meticulously rolls up his sleeves. He can tell even without looking into your thoughts that anticipations claws away at your chest, given the way your breathing becomes just the slightest bit unsteady as you wait for him to properly begin.

Slowly, Yunho raises his one wrist, allowing one of his nails to sharpen into a point as he drags it across his skin. Immediately, blood begins to swell against his flesh, the vibrant colour contrasting against his skin. Dipping two fingers through the substance, he takes a deep breath, attempting to steady his racing heartbeat for the time being, and focus in on the task at hand.

For too long has he dreamed of painting you in him like this. Nights have been spent shamelessly fantasizing about how, and what he would paint his marks on your body with. Already, he has the design in mind, and there is nothing more intimate, nor significant than what he is about to do.

The first touch of his fingers against your spine is nothing more than a gentle caress, the blood causing tingles to erupt along your skin despite the warmth that you feel. Each stroke is fluid. Precise. A design unlike anything you’ve ever felt before being drawn over your upper back, just to the left of your spine. A design of which rests directly over your heart from behind.

With each drag of his fingers over your flesh, Yunho paints his name on you in the ancient tongue, claiming you in any and every way he knows how. Languidly, his fingers trace patterns over your skin, swirls like wisps of smoke and vines branching out over every inch of your exposed back as he continues to claim you as his own in such an intimate way.

His touch is soothing, and so, so sensual, that you find your breathing deepening along with his own. Your hands clutch onto the top of the chair for dear life as you attempt to ground yourself, not wanting to think about how good his hands feel tracing along the curve of your spine for the moment as he works meticulously on the design on your back.

With each press of his fingers, Yunho can feel your heartbeat syncing with his own. A fact of which that could not make him any happier than he is right now. You still haven’t closed off your mind to him, either, so every single fleeting thought of yours echoes throughout his own as well. The way he can sense how much you’re enjoying this, which is just as much as he is for the moment, has a pleasure unlike any other flooding his veins. The fact that you shudder when he shares his own thoughts, his emotions and desires with you, has a pride unlike any other swirling within him.

It seems as if he’s not the only one having trouble controlling himself right now.

The whole time he works, Yunho unashamedly allows his eyes to bleed black, absolutely revelling in each new design that he creates against your skin. Slowly, each red swirl branches out, covering you in him, just as he’s always dreamed of. 

As it should be. As it will always be.

His thighs tremble, doing his best to hold onto his last bits of sanity as he takes a deep breath in. The way your scent is now intertwined with his own in such a way makes his head spin, a pleasure unlike any other flooding his veins. Already, Yunho finds it hard to control himself, and the added fact that he can smell your arousal beginning to permeate the air does nothing to help the way his already semi-hard cock twitches once more beneath his slacks.

He clears his throat.

“Almost done,” his voice rumbles out, strained and low.

You nod softly as you swallow the sudden dryness in your throat.

“Do you-“ your voice catches slightly as you lick your lips. “Do you want to do the front?”

Yunho’s breath hitches, his thighs tightening ever so slightly around your own as his fingers pause momentarily in their movements over your back.

A brief silence passes over the both of you. Enough to have you turning to spare a glance at him from over your shoulder. What you see staring back at you has your breath hitching in your throat.

There Yunho sits, eyes swirling with that all too familiar blackness as his intense gaze is already locked onto your own. His chest heaves with every silent breath he takes, whole body tense as his hands begin to shake.

“Yes,” he practically moans out, lips parting as his breath comes in ragged pants. “Please, My Queen. I would love nothing more.”

Turning back around, you raise your head, sitting to your full height as your back straightens.

“Let me know when to face you,” your voice is low as you stare forwards, and you don’t even need to look at him to know that he’s heard you loud and clear.

Not even two minutes later, you feel his fingers lift from your skin.

“Whenever you are ready, My Queen,” Yunho breathes, his chest rising dramatically with each inhale that he takes, “you may turn around and face me.”

It’s as if the whole world moves in slow motion. Carefully, you begin to rise from the chair, your own legs trembling slightly as you turn to face him. 

The whole time, Yunho keeps his gaze locked on your face. He wants you to know that he respects you enough to not sneak a peek at your body, nor does he want you to think that that’s the only reason he agreed to paint your front. He is an artist, after all, and he can control himself. At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself for the time being.

Throughout his many years of perfecting his hobby, Yunho has seen many naked and exposed bodies of all shapes and sizes. However, never has he ever had to exercise such restraint as he does with you.

To him, there is no greater significance, nor moment than this one right here, right now, with you. The fact that you trust him enough to be exposed and vulnerable in this way has a love unlike any other flooding his veins, drowning him in a warmth that he has never before felt in all of his long years of life.

You are the greatest masterpiece he has ever had the pleasure to lay his eyes upon, and the fact that you are allowing him to touch you in such a way, claiming you as his own using such intimate and sacred means, has his hands shaking once more. His head spins, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Gently, his hands move to rest on your hips, careful not to smudge the trails of blood wrapping around your sides for the moment. Looking up at you with such a tender gaze, his eyes shine, throat bobbing as he swallows the sudden dryness within at the feeling of your hands coming up to cradle his face tenderly in your palms.

For a moment, nothing is said between the both of you as you continue to gaze lovingly at his face, eyes taking in every feature before you.

“Is there something wrong?” Yunho voices gently, worried he may have done something to make you hesitate for the moment, or uncomfortable.

“Not at all,” you smile softly, shaking your head. “I was simply admiring the art.”

“Petal,” Yunho’s gaze softens, his breath catching in his throat as his heart swells with an unbelievable amount of fondness in his chest for you and you alone.

Slowly, carefully, Yunho guides you onto his lap, pulling you as close as he can for the moment while still giving him ample space to work. He needs to feel you pressed up against him now. He cannot continue any other way.

However, before he can so much as reopen the cut along his arm, your tender gaze captivates him once more.

Softly, his thumbs brush against the skin of your hips, gazing tenderly into your eyes as you keep his face cupped in the palm of your hands. Neither of you move, too caught up in the moment with one another, absolutely mesmerized by the way the other’s eyes shine beneath the light of the afternoon sun.

“You are a Goddess amongst mortals, My Queen,” he breathes, nothing but the sincerest form of truth dripping from his honeyed words as he continues to stare deeply into your eyes.

“How lucky I am, then, to find solace with My God,” your own voice is low, nothing but a mere whisper as you both lean in closer to one another.

He glances down at your lips as another moment of stillness passes between the both of you. That is, until he’s breaking it once more.

“Please,” he swallows once more, heart fluttering in his chest, “kiss me, Petal.”

Your lips are on his own without a second thought. 

The pleased hum you can feel reverberate against your lips has you smiling into the kiss, Yunho pulling you even closer into him for the time being. The way you hum against him as you feel his hard cock pressing delicately into your core has his grip tightening around you.

A small gasp escapes you as he helps you grind down into him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he deepens the kiss. The way you whimper into his mouth is simply music to his ears.

Desperately, your hands tangle in his hair, threading through the soft locks as you pull him closer into you for the time being. The way his tongue feels, slowly moving against your own has a fire igniting within your veins, burning beneath your skin with every beat of your heart. A heart which you know echoes his own right now.

Carefully, you pull yourself away. Enough so, that you begin to trail gentle kisses along the skin of his neck, biting down and creating your own marks for all to see.

“Petal,” Yunho groans, eyes fluttering shut as he feels you lave your tongue over a particularly firm bite you’ve just given him. “I still need to finish.”

Yunho can feel you smirk against his skin before leaning away from him. The devious look he sees shining in your eyes has him twitching once more beneath you. A fact of which he just knows you feel, especially as your smirk widens.

“But of course, My King,” you settle yourself back into the first position he had pulled you into on his lap with ample space between your two bodies for him to continue. “I would love nothing more.”

The pleased rumble that escapes his chest has you smiling once more as you watch him reopen the cut on his arm to continue right where he left off. Only this time, there’s a thicker air of tension surrounding the both of you.

With each movement he makes, your eyes shamelessly follow him, flitting between his face and roaming all over his still covered torso in front of you. From the way you lick your lips, Yunho doesn’t even need to look into your thoughts to know that you like what you see. A fact of which that has a pride unlike any other swirling within his chest.

Slowly, meticulously, Yunho connects the swirls and branches from your back over the skin of your chest and stomach, wrapping himself around you in every and any way that he can. Another design is drawn directly over your heart, depicting the symbol for Queen in the ancient tongue, and once it’s complete, another pleased growl is escaping Yunho’s chest. His eyes flash black once more.

Gently, his fingers trace over your collarbones, connecting the lines from your back in two large swirls over your upper chest. Each new line branches outwards, intricately wrapping around your entire body as he continues to paint you in him in such an intrinsic way.

For a brief moment, Yunho pauses. Slowly, carefully, he takes your one arm in his hands, raising it up and bringing the back of your hand up to his lips. The tenderest of kisses is placed onto your skin before he turns your palm to face him, repeating the motion until he’s trailed his lips up your arm as far as he can go. Turning his head, he’s quick to mirror each kiss onto the skin of your opposite arm, too, stopping only briefly to press his lips onto the skin of your wrist and feeling your pulse flutter beneath him.

In the next moment, Yunho begins tracing designs down your arms, wrapping the swirls and branchlike vines down your skin and all the way to your wrists. He can feel your eyes on him, watching his every movement, and only causing his whole body to heat from your intense stare. Already, he’s finding it so hard to control himself, and with the way you’re looking at him right now, he finds the task even more difficult to do so.

Yunho is smart, though, saving the most sensitive of places for last as he finishes wrapping the design around your stomach. Finally, he moves back upwards, branching his blood outwards from the symbol over your heart.

This time, when he places his fingers against your skin, his touch is light, nothing more than a tender caress against you. Slowly, meticulously, Yunho guides his fingers over the sensitive flesh of your one breast, following the gentle curve of your body.

His breathing deepens, eyes flitting up to your own to check in with you and make sure you’re still okay. At the way he sees you staring down at him, eyes hooded as your own breathing deepens, Yunho has to swallow the sudden dryness in his throat.

The closer his fingers get to the skin of your hardening nipple, Yunho can feel the way you shiver beneath his touch. A pleasant thrum begins to echo through his veins with every pulse of his heart, and the fact that he can feel your own beating in time with his is simply icing on the cake. There is no greater feeling to him right now than sharing such a tender moment with you.

All too soon, he’s completed the swirl around your one breast and is moving on to the other. Again, his fingers are but a gentle caress against your skin as he traces the swell of your tender flesh, eyes dark as he keeps them locked with your own.

Teasingly, he allows his fingers to ghost over the skin of your opposite nipple, feeling it harden beneath his touch.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “May I?”

“Please,” your response is but a breathless plea as you arch into him.

Immediately, his mouth is on you, encasing your one nipple as he laves his tongue over the pert bud, suckling gently all the while. At the whine he hears you let out, Yunho cannot help but to hum contently against your flesh, savouring this moment as he allows his eyes to flutter shut.

He pulls you closer.

Carefully, he releases your one nipple after giving it a final flick with his tongue, moving over to give the same attention to the other. The way your hands tangle themselves in his hair, pulling him closer into you as you feel his mouth attach itself to your skin once more has another pleased rumble escaping him.

The whole time his lips are on you, his eyes never leave your face, wanting to catch every single beautiful expression you give him and commit it to memory. The way you keen into him as he suckles gently on your flesh has his eyes swirling with that all too familiar darkness once more.

Shamelessly, Yunho’s fingers dig into the skin of your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer as you begin to slowly grind yourself against his aching cock once more. At the way you feel him moan against your skin, you smile.

In the next moment, you’re gently guiding him off of you, pulling him back using the hair at the nape of his neck to meet your gaze once more. Without another thought, you place your lips onto his own, not bothered in the slightest by the small bit of his own blood you can see shining along his mouth. The fact that you go so far as to trace his bottom lip with your tongue has a pleased growl escaping his throat, you immediately swallowing the sound.

Your breaths mingle as you pull away just the slightest, chests heaving as he begins to nip at the skin of your jaw.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, placing an open mouthed kiss onto the skin of your neck. 

“Radiant,” he bites down on a particularly sensitive spot which elicits the sweetest of moans from your lips.

For only a moment, his lips part from your skin. Leaning back, his eyes glance down at the mark on your chest before staring deeply into your own, the fondest of gazes shining within, hidden behind that all too familiar swirling darkness filled with nothing but desire for you.

His thoughts echo shamelessly throughout your own mind and your breath hitches as he reveals the meaning of the symbol he’s painted directly over your heart.

“Regal,” his grip tightens once more, the word but a growl on his lips as he feels your hands come to rest on his chest.

Not even a moment later, your fingers begin to toy with the buttons of his shirt.

“May I?” You meet his intense gaze, staring at him with a soft look shining in your own.

“Yes, My Queen,” he replies almost immediately, tone but a whisper on his lips. “Anything for you.”

“Good,” you smile, slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt, “because I still need to claim you.”

The moan that escapes his throat is nothing short of desperate as he tosses his head back. His eyes squeeze shut, that all too familiar tightening of his abdomen causing his whole body to tense as he attempts to control himself.

Never could he have imagined the effect those simple words of yours would have on him. Given the context, too, Yunho finds his head absolutely reeling. Pure desire courses through his veins, heart feeling as if it’s about to beat right out of his chest at any moment.

The feeling of your hands roaming over his bare torso draws him back to reality, and he opens his eyes just in time for another shiver to caress his spine. The dark gaze he sees swirling behind your own irises has his whole body shaking as you slowly push the material of his shirt down his arms. The way you lick your lips as you see his own body fully revealed to you for the first time has a pride unlike any other coursing through his very soul.

“You’re so pretty, Yunho,” your voice is low, as if sharing the most intimate of secrets with him as awe paints your features. “So pretty, and all mine.”

The snarl of approval that tears from his lips has his eyes flashing black in an instant.

“All yours, Petal,” his voice rumbles out, words but a growl on his lips. “And you’re mine.”

The way his grip tightens once more over your thighs elicits the sweetest of giggles from your throat.

“I’m yours, Universe,” gently, you stroke his hair back from his forehead, placing a tender kiss there in the next second. “Now, let me claim My King just as he has claimed His Queen.”

The second snarl that tears from his throat is nothing short of feral, mouth parting as he attempts to control his breathing for the time being. His fingers dig into your flesh, holding onto you for dear life just as he attempts to hold onto whatever last bits of sanity that he has for the moment.

“Are you-“ he pants, tongue darting out to wet his lips once more, “are you sure?”

You cup his face gently in your palms, a loving smile resting on your features as you continue to straddle his lap. “More than anything, Yunho.”

A moment of silence passes between the both of you as you stare deeply into each others eyes. An understanding unlike ever before washes over the both of you, feeling connected in a way neither have felt in your entire lives.

Slowly, you raise your arm, wrist on full display as his eyes lock onto an untouched piece of your skin.

“Will you do the honours?” Your voice is gentle, a tender caress as he glances into your eyes once more.

Yunho takes a moment to look at you. To fully and truly look at you. Here you rest, the love of his life, his Queen, offering yourself to him in ways Yunho has only ever dreamed about. The fact that you want to claim him in the exact same ways that he has just claimed you has a warmth flooding throughout his very soul.

Nothing can take this moment with you away from him. Absolutely nothing.

Yunho takes the time now to search your eyes - your mind - for any sort of hesitance or uncertainty on your part. He finds none.

“I would love nothing more, My Queen,” he breathes, hand coming up to gently cradle your wrist.

Once more, Yunho places his lips over the skin of your wrist before bringing his opposite hand up and gently tracing a soothing line over your skin. He meets your eyes briefly once more in one final confirmation. At seeing the subtle nod you give him, he sharpens his nail into a point, creating the faintest of cuts along your flesh.

Of all of the sensations you expected to feel against your skin, you never expected this. You were sure it was going to sting slightly, especially the initial breaking of your skin. However, you weren’t expecting it to simply tingle, a warmth blooming within your veins wherever his fingers grace your skin.

You just know that he has something to do with it.

Of course, Petal, his voice resounds in your head, the gentlest of caresses to your mind as you find yourself leaning subconsciously into that phantom touch. I swore to never hurt you, even in such a way as this.

Without question, and without any hesitation, Yunho takes away any and all pain his intrusion would have caused.

You smile, thumb gently caressing his cheek for the briefest of moments before you’re shifting your position. Leaning back slightly, you observe the plains of his chest, noting every dip and curve of the blank canvass before you.

Taking a deep breath, you begin.

The whole time you work, your own hands shake, though from a completely different reason that his own had. Yes, you yourself cannot believe that this is actually happening right now, but more than all of that, you do not want to mess this up.

You start slowly at first, fingers gently trailing over the skin of his exposed chest until you find your own rhythm as you work. Shamelessly, your eyes trail all over every expanse of his body revealed to you, and you can feel the prideful rumble that builds within his chest every time you do so.

Yunho’s eyes flutter closed, heart thundering away beneath his skin as he feels your delicate fingers tracing patterns over his own skin. What truly makes his head spin is the way you recreate the same swirls and branches over his own flesh in your own blood, paining him in you in such an intimate way as he painted you.

His breathing deepens, chest practically heaving with each inhale he takes. Not only is this moment so, so significant and meaningful to him right now, but the way you’re staking your own claim on him using your own blood has his head spinning. The way he can smell your own scent now mingling with his own drives him insane, and the way your arousal permeates the air only adds to the emotions swirling inside of him right now.

His waning sanity already feels so close to snapping.

Gazing down at his chest with hooded eyes, you pause momentarily in your movements. You know he knows that you’re not done, but there’s a question lingering in your mind which has his heart warming more than you’ll ever know.

A moment later, an image is appearing within your thoughts of a design similar to the one on your own chest. Meeting his gaze, you already know that this is the matching symbol to the one you already wear, especially if the way his eyes shine with such a tender love and fondness as he stares into your own is any indication.

Without another second of hesitation, your fingers are back on his skin.

The care you put into every movement does not go unnoticed by him as you work to recreate that same symbol over his own heart. A heart which thunders away beneath the skin of your fingers. A heart which pulses alongside your own, beating for you and only you.

There, directly situated over his heart, resides the matching symbol to your own in the ancient tongue. Your King to match His Queen.

An overwhelming sense of happiness and love floods his veins. The meaning of this claiming could not be any more clear, and the fact that it was you who suggested it be done in each other’s own blood has a warmth unlike ever before growing within his soul. A soul that belongs to you, along with everything else that he is.

The feeling of your fingers slowing over his skin draws his attention back to this moment here in time with you. He can tell that you’re close to finishing, that pleased look resting on your features enough to have his whole body heating as you continue to stare down at him with a hooded gaze. Your breathing has long since synched, chests heaving with each inhale you make.

His thumbs begin stroking over the skin of your thighs.

“My Queen,” his voice rumbles out, low and rough from the emotions swirling within him at this very moment. 

The way your whole body jolts as he pulls you further into his lap, your aching core settling directly overtop of his hard cock once more, has a pleased rumble building in his chest. Your scent floods his senses, his entire body screaming in need for you: the need to touch you, to please you in every way he knows how, until the only thing left in your mind is him begins to drown his every thought. He needs to feel you pressed up against him. 

He needs more. Yunho craves it more than anything. Whatever you’re willing to give him, he will take. Shamelessly and selflessly. And then some.

Yunho closes his eyes, attempting to control the last bits of his sanity for the time being. The last thing he wants to do is to make you uncomfortable, or scare you away. Especially not after this tender moment he’s just shared with you.

His whole body begins to shake.

“Yunho,” the way you breathe his name does nothing to help his waning sanity as his mouth parts in a breathless moan.

“Please, Petal,” his voice is strained from the way he desperately holds himself back from absolutely ravishing you for the moment. “Please, let me touch you. Let me claim you in every way I know how. Let me drown you in a pleasure only I can provide for you, until all that you can think about, until all that you know, is me.”

The way your breath hitches has another shiver running down his spine.

“I want to watch you lose yourself on me over, and over, and over again as we become one,” he meets your gaze, his eyes the darkest you’ve ever seen them. “I want to watch you succumb to the pleasures of your own body, taking everything and anything that you need from me. I want to be there every step of the way to help guide you through an ecstasy that I have created just for you.”

“Please,” Yunho’s lips part, “won’t you let me?”

“Yes,” the word escapes you breathlessly before you even have the chance to hesitate. “As long as I get to do the same to you.”

“Petal,” his heart warms, gaze softening as he stares deeply into your eyes. “You already have.”

You blink, clearly caught off guard by his words. He chuckles.

“Just let me take care of you, Petal,” he leans forward, placing a brief, tender kiss to your lips. “Let me please you.”

“Alright,” you smile, brushing his hair back from his forehead once more. “But only after I’m done claiming you first.”

Yunho’s heart skips a beat as he sees you begin to move off of his lap in the next second. Sinking down onto your knees, you slowly, teasingly, trail your hands up his clothed thighs, his skin tingling everywhere you touch. The dark gaze he sees swirling within your eyes makes his head spin, his throat bobbing as he swallows the sudden dryness within.

“Petal, you don’t have to-“

“Shhh,” you coo, hands slowly moving upwards to begin undoing the button on his jeans. “I want to.”

A low moan escapes his lips as he feels you palming his throbbing erection over his jeans, his eyes locked on the way your hand moves over him. His hands grip the sides of the couch for dear life as you meticulously drag the material of his pants down his legs, ridding him of his final pieces of clothing in the next minute. The way you lick your lips as your eyes lock onto his weeping cock has him twitching against his lower stomach.

“So pretty, Yunho,” your eyes dart up to meet his own as your hands slide teasingly up his thighs once more, “and all just for me.”

The moan that tumbles from his mouth is low, chest rumbling in approval as he feels you gently grab his aching cock in your one hand. Slowly, you drag your thumb over his leaking tip, pumping him a few times as your lips attach to the skin of his inner thigh. He nearly comes from the feeling of your teeth sinking into his flesh, your tongue laving over the sensitive mark in the next second.

“I’m all yours, My Queen,” another moan escapes him as he feels you trailing open mouthed kisses along his inner thigh. “All for you.”

The way your grip tightens ever so subtly around his cock, your eyes flashing, has him twitching once more in you hand. Already, he’s been close to coming at least three times today, and you’ve barely done anything to him yet.

Yunho wouldn’t want it any other way.

You take your time, marking up his thighs with your mouth, nipping and sucking on the tender flesh. All the while, your one hand never leaves his cock, stroking him in time with the movements of your lips over his skin. Though, just as he watches you lick your lips, eyes hungrily gazing at his throbbing erection, he stops you.

Immediately, concern is washing over your features, worried you’ve gone too far, too quickly. “Are you okay?”

Little do you know of how much your concern for him makes his heart warm.

“More than okay, Petal,” he assures you with a smile, helping you back onto your feet. 

He can see the questions forming on your lips, as well as in your mind, but before you can utter a single word, he steals your breath with another passionate kiss. Pulling away, he rests his forehead against your own.

“Another time, I promise, My Queen,” he breathes. “I simply do not want to come before the time is right.”

“Oh,” a pleasant heat blooms on your cheeks at his words, a sly grin tugging at your lips. “That worked up, huh, Universe?”

“You have no idea,” he breathes, caressing the side of your face gently in his one hand as his thumb strokes over your skin.

In the next moment, he’s shifting on the couch, laying down as you watch him with curious eyes.

“That, and I do not think I can wait a moment longer,” he pulls you closer by the thighs, eyes dark as he scents your arousal once more. “I have to taste you, Petal. I need to feel you dripping onto my tongue and drowning me in everything you.”

The way your own breath hitches in your throat is synonymous with how you can feel yourself clench around nothing. Your thighs begin to shake.

“Please, My Queen,” his eyes briefly glance up into your own, nothing but a desperate look shining within as he pulls you in closer to him, “sit on my face.”

You lean over him slightly, hand grasping onto the back of the couch as you begin to raise your one leg. Only, you find yourself pausing momentarily as you stare into his eyes.

“Are you sure-“

“More than anything in my entire life,” his voice is desperate, pleading as his gaze darts to your core situated practically right beside his head. He takes another deep breath, a shuddering moan escaping him as you scent absolutely overwhelms him. “Please, Petal. I want to make you feel good.”

Your heart positively flutters within your chest, and your movements now seem to almost have an eagerness to them as you situate yourself above him. Immediately, his hands are gripping at your thighs, helping to guide you over his mouth and making sure you’re comfortable all the while. A fact which makes your heart warm at the tenderness he still shows you despite the position you find yourselves in.

Sparing a glance upwards, Yunho meets your gaze. His eyes are dark as his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, an eagerness shining within his own as you slowly lower yourself onto his awaiting mouth.

Yunho licks his lips, eyes drinking in your dripping entrance as he pulls you into him. A content hum builds in his chest, rumbling just beneath the surface as he inhales deeply once more.

The first brush of his tongue over your folds has a moan escaping you while his eyes flutter shut in bliss. His grip tightens, pulling you impossibly closer as his lids flash open, eyes pure black as a pleased snarl escapes his throat. Without another second of hesitation, he dives back into you.

Shamelessly, his mouth laves over your folds, drinking in every drop of sweet nectar you provide for him, and absolutely adoring how you keen above him. His hands hold you steady, your thighs shaking around his head as he caresses your entire pussy with his lips, tongue delving greedily between your folds as your essence begins to drip down his chin.

The first flick of his tongue over that sensitive little clit of yours has your whole body jolting, a whine of his name slipping past your lips. The way your one hand comes to tangle itself in his locks, tugging at his roots as he repeats the action lets him know you’re enjoying this almost as much as he is. Only, the fact that you bring your opposite hand up to cover your mouth has a frown pulling at his features.

Immediately, his one arm reaches up, tearing your hand away from your mouth as his sucks you clit between his lips.

Don’t you dare hide your beautiful sounds from me, his voice rumbles out throughout your head, and Yunho can feel you clench around his tongue. I want to hear everything.

The whine of his name he receives in response is like music to his ears.

Slowly, his hands begin to trail up your thighs, fingers digging into the skin of you ass as he pulls you in closer. His eyes flash black at the first curse he hears you moan out, loving the way your hips begin to grind down against his mouth, meeting every movement of his tongue over your wet folds.

That’s it, Petal, he groans, the vibrations sending pleasant shockwaves echoing throughout your core. Just like that. Lose yourself on my tongue.

Your chest heaves, breath coming in ragged pants as you feel yourself clench around nothing once more. You never realized how intense it could be hearing his voice echoing shamelessly throughout your head, tone nothing but a low growl as he laves his mouth over your dripping cunt.

At one particular flick of his tongue over your clit, you’re practically folding in on yourself, a loud moan escaping you.

“Fuck, Yunho,” your voice is airy, breathless as your thighs tighten the slightest bit around his head, “just like that.”

The growl that he lets out is nothing short of pleased as he pulls you in impossibly closer, suckling your clit into his mouth once more, before repeating the same movements which had you keening above him earlier.

So fucking sweet, My Queen, he moans against you, cock twitching as his eyes flutter closed for the briefest of moments. Absolutely addicting. I could get drunk on you.

The whine that escapes you strokes his ego like never before, his tongue gliding through your folds as your juices drip down his chin.

So fucking beautiful, his eyes shine with nothing but adoration as he looks up at you, that all too familiar darkness swirling within as he watches you toss your head back in pleasure. He hums as he feels your fingers tighten in his hair. You are perfect in every way, My Queen. So unbelievably perfect, and all mine.

“Yours,” you moan, eyes closing in bliss as nothing but pure ecstasy begins to flood your veins. “Fuck- all yours.”

The snarl that escapes him is nothing short of feral as his grip tightens on your ass. The way your thoughts still echo through his own mind has a pleasure unlike any other flooding his veins, and he can tell just from the way your hips begin to rhythmically grind against his mouth that you’re getting close.

That’s it, My Queen. Let yourself go. His voice is nothing but encouraging the closer and closer you get to your release, feeling him beginning to caress your mind just as tenderly as his lips caress your clit. 

The added stimulation has your entire body shaking, that coil winding tighter and tighter within you with each passing second. You lean into him more than you know, and Yunho would not have it any other way.

Your fingers grip onto his hair for dear life as your whole body trembles, the edges of your release creeping even closer.

Go on, Petal, his voice is but a desperate plea as he continues to caress you in every way he knows how. A desperate snarl builds in his chest, needing to see you come undone for him like this. Bloom for me.

Your whole body stills, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm washes over you. A loud whine of his name escapes your lips, walls rhythmically clenching as your release floods his every sense, Yunho dinking up every last drop you offer him with a pleased growl on his lips.

Slowly, languidly, he laves his tongue over your folds, not wanting to waste anything that you have to offer him as he absolutely revels in everything you. The way you look, chest heaving with his design over your body as you attempt to catch your breath is a sight he knows that he will commit to every memory of his, eyes shining with a deep fondness as he pulls the slightest bit away. Gently, he trails his lips over the skin of your inner thigh, kissing lightly along the sensitive flesh there as you come down from your high.

The way your fingers begin to lightly thread through his hair, a pleased hum escaping you in the next moment has a pride unlike any other swelling in his chest. The added way your legs tremble as you move off of him has a pleased rumble building within his throat once more.

In the blink of an eye, he’s sitting up, pulling you back into his lap as his lips find purchase on your own. 

This kiss is much more relaxed, his tongue softly stroking against your own as he allows you to taste yourself on his lips. His hands are back on your thighs, and he can feel the warmth from your chest radiating against his own as he keeps but a hairsbreadth of space between your two bodies. The way he can hear your subtle praises floating through his mind warms his heart like you wouldn’t believe.

Parting from your lips only for a moment, Yunho absolutely adores how you come to rest your forehead against his own.

“I love you,” he breathes, staring deeply into your eyes. Eyes of which he knows are reflecting that same look of care and adoration as his own.

“I love you,” your tone is soft, voice a mere whisper as it tenderly caresses his ears. Your one hand gently moves to cradle the side of his face, a loving smile pulling at your lips. “Now, become one with me, My King.”

Yunho’s eyes flash black once more, his heart thundering beneath the skin of his chest as he claims your lips with his own.

“With pleasure, My Queen,” he hums against your mouth, breath hitching as he feels you take his throbbing cock into your one hand.

Pumping him a few times, you line him up with your entrance, steadying yourself with your free hand on his shoulder. His own grip tightens around your thighs, gaze flitting downwards as he feels your thumb tease over the head of his cock.

You lock eyes for the briefest of moments.

“Still okay?” His voice rumbles out, and you can hear the tender love and care he has for you bleeding through.

Your heart warms, a soft smile painting your features as you nod. “Very okay.”

Again, your thumb strokes teasingly over his slit and he has to bite his lip to suppress his moan.

“Are you okay, Universe?” You turn the question back on him, and this time, it’s Yunho’s chest that swells with that unquestionable warmth as he hears that same tender love and care dripping within your own tone.

“Never better, Petal,” he smiles, eyes crinkling slightly in the corners.

You mirror the expression before placing your lips on his own for the nth time this day.

Slowly, you begin to sink down on his cock, parting only briefly from the kiss as you let out the sweetest of whines. The way he feels stretching you out has your eyes squeezing shut, lips parting as you cling to him for dear life.

Yunho, on the other hand, is faring no better. The way your wall feel, warm and wet, sliding down and enveloping his cock draws a low moan from his lips. He can feel himself twitch within you once he’s fully seated, holding onto you desperately as you clench around him.

“Fuck, My Queen,” Yunho’s head falls forward, forehead resting against yours as he attempts to control his breathing for the time being. “Fits perfectly.”

“Feels so good, My King,” you hum contently, eyes still closed as you clench around him once more. “So full.”

His lips part, another moan tumbling shamelessly from his mouth as your words wash over his very soul.

Another moment passes by like this with the two of you simply holding one another in each other’s arms. Nothing is said, nor does it need to be, as you continue to bask in this tender moment, sharing in this intimacy as one.

“Whenever you are ready, My Queen,” he breathes, fingers digging a little firmer into the skin of your thighs.

You nod, taking a deep breath and feeling your chest rise and fall along with his own.

In the next second, you begin to move.

A low groan escapes his lips as he helps to guide your movements over his cock. The way you clench around him again has his eyes swirling with that all too familiar blackness as he takes in every single expression you offer to him. Leaning in, he claims your lips with his own once more.

Slowly, carefully, Yunho begins to trail his hands up your sides, causing a pleasant shiver to caress your spine. Of course, he’s careful not to smudge his designs, but at this point, he doesn’t care. The only thing on his mind is pulling you closer, and making you drown in the pools of his ecstasy that only he can provide for you.

“That’s it, Petal,” his eyes shine as he meets your gaze, thighs twitching beneath you as you continue to move over him. “Just like that.”

“Yunho,” the whimper of his name falling from your lips is like music to his ears.

“So good to me,” he breathes, his one hand caressing along your spine before his fingers are digging into the skin of your back, right over where his name is drawn on you in the ancient tongue. “So perfect and all mine.”

“Yours,” you repeat the word from earlier, nothing more than a breathless moan escaping your lips as you feel the tip of his cock brush up against such a tender spot inside of you. Your breath hitches, walls clenching involuntarily around him as he smiles at you. “And you’re mine.”

“That’s right, My Queen,” his voice edges on a pleased growl as he meets your gaze, pulling your body flush against his own as he leans further back into the couch. “I’m all yours.”

“Fuck, Yunho-“ your eyes flutter shut as his cock brushes up on that special spot inside of you once more. “My King.”

An unabashed moan tumbles from his lips as your voice washes over him, cock twitching inside of you as his grip tightens around your body.

His breathing deepens, gaze dark as he watches you move above him like this. A moment later, his lips are back on your skin: biting, licking, sucking - anything to have you keening against him. He has to see you fall apart again. He has to be the sole reason for your ecstasy once more.

“You’re doing so well for me, My Queen,” his fingers press a little firmer against the skin of your back, your blood mixing with his own against his skin and drowning his senses in everything you.

Picking up your pace, you allow your head to fall forward, succumbing to the pleasure he is providing for you at the moment. Burying your face into the side of his neck, you cling to him for dear life as he continues to guide your movements over his cock, nipping at the skin of your ear.

“That’s it, Petal,” his voice is but a low growl against the skin of your neck. “Lose yourself on me. Lose yourself to the pleasure only I can provide for you.”

His lips are back on your neck, sucking tenderly at the flesh there and feeling your pulse rushing beneath the skin. He smiles.

Your one hand comes to rest over his chest, right over his own mark as you lean the slightest bit away from him. This new angle has you gasping, eyes rolling as you continue to move over his cock. Each stroke along your inner walls makes your head spin, lips parting and brow furrowing.

Slowly, carefully, Yunho reaches down between your two bodies as his thumb begins to flick at your clit. The way your whole body positively jolts, a whine of his name falling from your lips has his eyes flashing black once more.

“That’s it, Petal,” his breathing is ragged as he attempts to hold onto his last bits of shredded sanity for the evening. He has to see you falling apart on top of him - because of him, once more. “Let yourself go. I’m right here.”

Again, he caresses your mind with the tenderest of touches, feeling your thighs begin to shake against his own.

That all too familiar coil begins to wind itself tighter within your lower abdomen, and with each flick of his thumb over your clit, combined with the sinful way his cock fills your tight little hole, you know you won’t last much longer. From the way his growls become more frequent, you can tell that he won’t, either.

“Come on, My Queen,” his words are but a snarl on his lips, gaze locked on where your two bodies meet as he can feel your essence beginning to drip onto the skin of his thighs. “Come for me. Come for Your King.”

Your whole body trembles, the nails of the hand you have resting over the skin of his heart digging into his flesh as your lips part in a silent scream. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, clinging onto him for dear life as your orgasm washes over you for the second time that day.

Not even a moment later, Yunho is following close behind. The way your walls feel spasming around his cock, combined with the way you desperately cling onto him, has a low groan of your name falling from his lips.

He holds you close, bodies pressed firmly against one another as he releases deep inside of your walls. You can feel yourself clenching around him as you attempt to catch your breath, head falling forward to rest on his shoulder. 

Lovingly, his hand strokes along the skin of your spine, tracing the design along your back softly.

“You did so well for me, Petal,” his voice is low, right by your ear as he begins to place tender kisses along your bare shoulder. “So good to me.”

“Yunho,” you curl in closer to him, face buried in his neck as you hum contently. “I love you.”

“I love you, My Queen.” You can feel his entire chest rumble with a pleased hum, his grip tightening ever so subtly around you.

For the next few minutes, neither of you move, both simply content to revel in each other’s embrace. Still, Yunho brushes a tender hand along your back, your breathing syncing with his once more as your hearts continue to beat as one.

“Are you alright, Petal?” His voice pulls you back out of your own thoughts and back to reality as you finally lean away from him for the time being.

A soft smile is sent his way. “More than okay, Universe.”

“Good,” he hums, a smile of his own painting his features. “I’m glad.”

“Are you okay, Yunho?” Once more, you find yourself repeating those same words from earlier in the day.

“Never better, Petal,” he repeats his own words yet again, a large smile taking over his features as he continues to gaze lovingly at you.

A minute later, you reluctantly separate yourself from him, feeling your combined releases dripping down the skin of your thigh as you stand back on shaky feet. Immediately, Yunho is there to steady you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he transports the two of you to a bathroom. One that is unfamiliar to you, but at the way he swiftly draws a bath for the both of you, you know that you must be in his room right now.

Walking over to you, Yunho gently caresses the side of your face with his hand.

“Make yourself comfortable, Petal,” he smiles softly. “I’ll be right back.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s disappeared from in front of you. You hardly get one foot in the tub when he’s reappearing, two glasses of water held in his hand.

The image makes you smile as you sink into the warm water, gladly accepting the glass in the next moment when he offers it to you. In the blink of an eye, he’s sliding into the tub beside you.

Placing the now empty glass to the side, you lean into him, loving the way his one arm automatically wraps itself around your shoulders. The security you feel as he pulls you into his side has your heart swelling in your chest.

Then, your eyes are catching on the intricate swirls still adorning your arms.

“It’s a shame to already be washing such a beautiful design away,” you comment, raising your arm slightly above the water as a slight pout pulls at your lips.

“Don’t worry, Petal, I have plenty more where that came from,” Yunho chuckles, placing a tender kiss onto the side of your temple. “Besides, I will never forget how you looked today, or the meaning behind it. For as long as I live, I will always remember.”

A heat blooms on your cheeks. Grabbing his one hand in your own, you bring the back up to your lips, placing a gentle kiss against it. Slowly, your thumb begins to brush over his skin, resting your head against his shoulder as your eyes flutter closed.

“Can I let you in on a little secret?” Your voice is soft, allowing the sound of the trickling water to surround you both as you bask in each other’s presence for the time being.

Yunho hums, pulling your intertwined hands into his lap so that he can run a finger gently over the small scar on your arm. In the blink of an eye, he’s healed the cut, beginning to slowly wash his blood from your skin in the next moment.

You smile, “neither will I.”

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[ohforficsake]

Talk Refined

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Summary: Orpheus and Eurydice. A Blacksmith and a Warrior. A Lawyer and the Lady He Meets at a Bar. Two souls fated to find each other across lifetimes. Here are just a few of those stories.

Pairing: Ezra x f!Reader. Reader is able-bodied and takes many forms. Described as having hair that can be pinned back in one instance, generally open description in others.

This is my submission for @wannab-urs Hozier Drabble Challenge! My character was Ezra, and my prompt was "Talk" off of Wasteland, Baby!. This was such a fun challenge, thank you so much for organizing it, Gin!

Word Count: ~5.8K (I blew past drabble, I'm so sorry)

Rating: Explicit 18+ / brief fingering / brief handjob / unprotected piv / language / main character death / Minors DNI

A/N: This was so incredibly fun to write and I actually had a huge smile on my face when I finished it that I'm pretty sure is still there. I'm incredibly happy with how this turned out. I've never written for Ezra before, so this was a really interesting exercise in finding the voice of a character that I found quite challenging to get to the heart of. Ezra folks, I really hope I did your boy justice.

Notes on literary references and the source of Orpheus' speech (not written by me) included at the end.

I'm also kind of just launching this super hot off the press, so please forgive any typos you may find and definitely message me about them once you're done reading.

Massive thank you to @beskarandblasters for the beautiful cover art for this story! 💚 Go hit Kel up if you're looking for a lovely header for your work!

Dividers by @cafekitsune!

Part I: The Darkness of the Night

He’s called Orpheus in this lifetime. Blessed with his mother’s tongue. 

No way of knowing he forever will be.  

A twist of phrase. A glint in the eye. 

A white patch at his hairline is the only mark of his father. As if licked there by the rays of Apollo’s creation.

And he is his mother’s boy, plucking at lyre strings and humming low, branches bending to his ambit as he harmonizes with the rush of Zephyrus’ wings through tall grasses.

But you are a rich distraction indeed.

A distraction perhaps of the West Wind’s own making, for the god has always been a soft touch. 

The breeze toys with your chiton as you drift in and out of dreams. 

Molding gossamer to your form.

A promise of something just for him.

Orpheus reaches to run his knuckles down your arm, awaiting your stirring before he takes fingers over your shoulder, up to cup your cheek.

You turn to press against the warmth of his hand. The pad of his thumb softly skimming your bottom lip.

It sends sparks racing across your skin.

He hums a laugh and fits closer to you, warmer now than the midday sun. You slant your eyes up at him, greeted with a smile before he bends to press a long kiss to your mouth.

His lyre is discarded in the grass now, wildflowers poking up through its strings.

The hand on your cheek moves to pull at his red linen handkerchief around your neck. Tied there in the morn to guard the late-hour transgressions of his lips from judgmental stares. 

Again revealed to him now.

He tucks the cloth into his zoster before his fingers dip under the gauze of your robes, cupping one breast before his lips replace fabric.

“The dryads, my darling,” you whisper a warning into the heated hollow of his mouth.

“Fret not, my love,” he chides with a whisper.

And you whimper a wanton, insincere protest as his hand adjusts to move lower still, nimble fingers inching your hemline up until your thighs are bared to him.

“Surely such creatures would sympathize. Look favorably on newlywed dalliance.”

“For they understand pleasures such as these,” he murmurs as his fingers slip over your core.

"The nymphs haven’t our flesh," you gasp against his curls as he bends to nip at the lush of your breast.

"They have our desires."

"The nymphs know fertile things in ways we never shall, my darling Eurydice," ghosts hot against your skin. 

"And surely they know what comes of something flush with want."

The press of his length against you causes your hips to tilt into his hand as your languid knees fall open.

"To deny that nature is to deny the nymphs themselves, little dove."

He tips his face to brush petal-soft lips against your frantic pulse as he shifts over you.

"For you see, they don’t care."

And the breach of him causes your back to arch, nails digging into the corded muscle of his arms.

You bend enough for your eyes to land on the grove of oak trees.

Unsure if begging forgiveness. 

Or reveling in their jealousy.

But there are other eyes on you this day. Watching the deft way your husband wrings pleasure from your form. 

The way he rolls you over on a bed of meadowsweet to press deeper still.

Holding your body to his as he pulls music from your throat.

Other eyes, indiscreet in their desire and relentless in their pursuit.

Other eyes that lead to your journey across the Styx.

Lead to Orpheus’ torment.

They say there are ways to speak with the dead.

But words will not pacify the poet when the possibility exists to feel you beneath him again.

A body that writhes under his own. Skin soft against the way his burns.

The way you welcome the thick weight of him.

All of him.

Into the warm clutch of your wet cunt.

And Orpheus, driven by his desire and blessed with his mother’s gift, marches boldly into the depths of grief.

“You powers divine of the subterranean kingdom, where all of mortal creation must one day sink to our doom, if you will give me permission to tell you the truth unvarnished by shifty pretenses…”

“I’d hoped to be able to bear my loss and confess that I tried.”

And the dance of his fingers over gut string pricks the ears of the damned as he gives verse to his flesh’s torment.

“In the name of these confines of fear, in the name of this vast abyss and your realm of infinite silence, I, Orpheus, implore you, unravel the web of my dear Eurydice’s early passing.”

A prayer for relief.

“This is the place that we all are bound for, our final dwelling, and yours is the longest reign that the human race must endure.”

Through vulpine teeth.

“Eurydice too, when her due of years has been ripely completed, shall own your sway. Till then, I beg you to let me enjoy her.”

And it moves the hound to cease its lashing. 

Moves the one eternally punished to rest upon his stone. 

Moves the dead of Winter to cave to the tender brush of Spring’s hand.

And you are called forth by a voice between what should be your ears. 

And Orpheus begins to move.

Daring to hope for your sweet clutch again as your footsteps grow louder against stone.

As you take the form he knows, more corporeal with every footfall.

The tenderness in your ankle made manifest with flesh.

And his cock throbs with the thought of you.

His wife.

His muse.

But there’s a pause in the lilting cadence of your step.

Where you’ve stopped to grab for the fallen handkerchief that slipped from his belt.

And the panic flooding his breast moves him against all hope.

And he turns.

And you reach for him.

Before disappearing for the final time.

With forgiveness swimming in your eyes.

Part II: Pilgrim, Stranger, Wanderer

He’s called Doran in this lifetime.

A name you learn upon ducking into the blacksmith’s workshop with another man’s name on your lips. 

“Callum!” You call, greeted instead by a shock of white hair where blonde should be.

Round brown eyes where you expected green.

“Apologies,” you offer, “I am looking for the smith.”

“Callum was called away to his family in the north country.”

His answering voice like honey just starting to crystalize. 

“I’m called Doran,” he bends his head in customary greeting.

And you note the broad spread of his hand against his chest.

“I apprenticed under Callum, in what feels like a lifetime ago now, I admit.” He offers a small smirk. “He asked that I mind the forge in his absence.”

And you give him your name but not your full belief in this story.

“May I help you with something, dove?”  

You straighten against the rake of his eyes. “My horse requires particular shoes. She is of a larger breed and nothing standard will suit.”

And you turn your back to him leading the way outside.

Doran whistles low at the sight of your mare, a sturdy Friesian glossed blue in the morning sun.

“She is a stunning creature,” he purrs, gently taking his fingers over her strong neck.

Pausing to thumb the iris stamped into the leather of her bridle.

“She’s no delicate thing,” you watch as he circles the horse. “Her grandsire was a draft who pulled the High King’s carriage.”

He fits one massive hoof between his knees, gently brushing away the feathers at her ankle before she starts fighting his touch. 

He adjusts her gently, inspecting her irons before she protests in earnest.

“It’s apparent,” he says, quickly dropping the horse’s foot and jumping aside before she stamps and shakes her head, “that her blood runs hot.”

“She does not favor the touch of men,” you answer, soothing a hand over her hindquarters. “I should have forewarned you.”

“A fair lady is entitled to her opinions when she is that beautiful,” Doran gives her a wide berth.

And takes his eyes over you instead. 

“You are the nobleman’s daughter.” He squints against the sun. “The warrior?” 

“I am.”

“Now,” he pulls a rag from his pocket and rubs at his hands, “I know well the dangers of feminine beauty but a warrioress is altogether new to me. You are not riding into battle soon, I pray?”

“One in my position exists in a constant state of preparation. But there is no rumble of battle on the horizon.” 

His smirk dimples one cheek now.

“I shall have the shoes for your láir within the week. And I shall pray you need not fly away before then, little dove.”

“May I make half the payment now for your services? This was the custom with the old smith.”

“The only payment for my services I can insist upon is merely the chance to sit in your presence a moment longer. Would a fair lady allow a humble blacksmith that much?”

And you see straight through him. Through to the tools on the wall. 

But the broad set of his shoulders under ash-smudged linen. The way he moves, lithe and light on his feet as he dances between his stock of iron bars and his cache of hammers. The bright wideness of his eyes that betray sincerity or something of its kin.

A humble one no. But this one, perhaps.

You drop a pouch of coins onto his anvil. “Where?”

“Meet me here. In the morrow?”

And you tell him “maybe” in the moment as you climb into your saddle.

But you arrive on foot the next morning. 

_____

You meet him three mornings in the week it takes him to forge your mare’s irons. 

On the first day he tells you of his travels through Spain and France. Of scrambling up the masts of the ship that brought him to your shore. 

On the third, he recites The Bard’s work with such nuance that you’re not entirely sure he isn’t the man himself.  

On the fifth day he leads you out to the ruins of an old monastery, up a winding staircase until you’re forced to stand so close on the crumbling parapet that you can feel the heat of him at your back.

Your head spins from something other than the height.

On the seventh day he places four horseshoes, lovingly wrapped in burlap and bound with hemp cord, into the hand he has cradled in his own. 

Warm and worn.

“Can I see you again?” He murmurs, barely a foot between you.

“Is that wise?”

“I have been mistaken for many things, little dove.” He brushes two knuckles over your cheekbone. “Nary a man has included wise among them.”

And you scoff but press into his touch all the same. 

“Forgive me my boldness,” he takes his fingers under your chin, “but I must pose the question.”

“Your mare does not favor the touch of men.”

“But,” he purrs, “do you?”

And your lips form the word “goodnight” but you don’t dare move.

Your eyes flash with a want that does not go neglected. 

“Must you take your leave?” He thumbs your bottom lip.

“I must.”

“But what of my payment,” he hums.

“As I recall you beseeched me pay with my time,” you tilt your head, reveling in the brush of warm breath against your skin, “I dare say I’ve tendered more than my share.”

“And yet I am in debt every time you take your presence from me,” he smirks. “There is something of you, little dove, that I fear has a hold on—”

You steal the words from his lips with your own.

And the unabashed delight dancing over his features when you part makes you kiss him again.

You fling your arm to rest the irons on the first surface you can find, desperate to wind your hands in his hair as his fit to your waist.

He urges your mouth open with the soft slip of his tongue. Humming when you let him inside.

“Little bird,” he pants when he tears his lips from you, forehead thumping hard against yours. “I confess if you stay past this moment I shall not be able to exercise any measure of restraint.”

“Is restraint what you desire?” You angle heavy-lidded eyes up at him. 

“Not in the slightest,” he swallows hard, fist still gripping at your hair. “But you are a gentle lady with a good name, and I—”

“I want you, Doran,” you murmur. “This.”

And his head falls back on his shoulders with a tight, pained hiss.

“I confess I have given in to the fantasy of hearing that fall from this lush mouth many nights since first we met.”

And he expects heat to rise to your cheeks at his admission. But the hand that cradles your neck finds no such warmth.

“Do you know how it works?” He hums low, running his palm down your sleeve to lace thick fingers with yours. “Pleasure?” He brings your knuckles to his lips, eyes glinting in hearthlight. 

And there is sincerity evident in his gaze.

For you are a gentle lady with a good name. 

“Mmm, have you felt this?” He takes your hand, gliding it over the rough wool of his trousers.

To the hard line of his length underneath them. 

Your breath skips.

You are no stranger to amusement of the flesh. But never before have you felt so—much. 

“Feel me, birdie,” he hums, rolling his forehead against yours, “what you do to me. I fear there isn’t any blood left for the rest of me.” He kisses you again. “Only for you. This. Just for you.”

“Your bed, Doran,” you murmur against his mouth.

The hand over yours encircles your wrist and he leads you through to his chambers.

He pulls you tight to his body again, mouths locked as his hands roam your form, unable to settle upon what features his fingers must traverse first. 

You push the braces from his shoulders and he helps you with the buttons of his shirt, your hands skating up the smooth expanse of tanned skin before tugging at your own shirttails.

Your lips find his neck as he unbuttons his trousers. You’ve already stepped out of yours.

“So eager, birdie,” he wraps you in his arms, and your skin burns with his touch. “Surely you’ve seen it with beasts, yes?” He salts your neck with kisses. “It’s quick with them, you see. It doesn’t have to be. Doesn’t have to—”

A moan cuts off his babbling from where you’ve taken him in hand. 

“Although I may yet need to beg your forgiveness,” his hips buck into your hand, “my stamina may yet waiver, upon this first time.”

His tongue slips into your mouth again and finally he finds himself enough to back you up until your thighs meet his bed. 

“It’s been so long. So long, birdie, since I have held a woman.” He leans you back with his body as your hands fly to his hair. “Longer still since I have held one as soft. Supple and pliant as you.” His lips map your collarbone, nose skimming the valley of your breasts as he takes one in hand.

“Never before is a long time indeed.”

He sucks at tender, pebbled skin, drawing an arch in your spine as he shifts to settle between your legs.

“I give you my word that I will indeed take my time with you but I offer a preemptive apology in the instance that I fail upon this first time.” His fingers slip down to toy with your folds, groaning against your ribs at the wetness that he finds there. “Perhaps we are no different than animals indeed.” 

You hear only half of his babbling. 

The static of anticipation under your skin crackles in your ears as your hips tip into his hand. His thumb slides over your clit and you cry out. 

“You see, sometimes a man just needs to bury himself deep.”

He slings your legs over his hips and sits up on his knees, stroking his length with your borrowed wetness as your hands find his thighs.

There’s a dark edge to his voice now. Heavy-lidded eyes locked on the core of you.

“This need. It’s far stronger than I ever will be.”

“Now, Doran, I need—”

He doesn’t make you wait.

And he keeps his word in the moments it matters. Slowly rocking his hips to stretch you open on his cock before your body begs him deeper.

Large palms settle around your waist as he builds in pace, alternating slow with fast. Tenderness with force that drives the bedframe to knock against the wall. When his thumb winds circles against your clit you cry into the night as pleasure rips through you. Greedy lips crash against yours as his weight blankets your reeling form. Fevered moans in his chest thrum through you as he savors the way your walls pulse around him. 

He buries his face against your neck and you feel the bite of his teeth as he snarls, drawing closer and closer to the edge.

He cants his hips just so at the last minute, pulling himself from your heat a moment before his seed streams hot over your thigh.

You soothe a hand over the nape of his neck as his hips spasm with the last of it, wide hand cradling your jaw and tipping your face to his.

Kisses softer now. 

Grateful.

“You are a rare bird indeed,” he murmurs against your ear, lips ghosting over your neck. 

He finds himself enough to rise from bed and kneel on the floor, searching for his handkerchief amongst the tangle of his clothes. 

Yours peeks from the pocket of your trousers, red against brown wool, and you lazily twirl a corner of it around your finger and draw it out.

Doran catches it from your hand, gently cleaning your thigh of his spend before pressing a kiss there. 

“I shall return this to you clean,” he holds it up briefly before craning to press a kiss to your lips. “Don’t trouble a hair on your head with moving, birdie,” he bids you before disappearing to the kitchen.

You trouble the hair on your head all the same as you pull the jostled pins from it, tousling it out of the style your nurse had so meticulously placed it in this morning. 

Doran returns with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He fills them as you prop yourself up on your side and he settles on the floor. One arm slung up on the mattress.

Adoration in his eyes as he tips his glass against yours.

“You didn’t tell me this was not your first time. Although I do find it rather a pleasant surprise,” he rubs a hand over the curve of your waist with lust-hazed eyes.

“I could scarcely utter a word amidst your chatter,” you tease with a grin as you take another sip of your whiskey.

His smile dimples his cheek. 

“Are you—”

For once he hesitates to speak.

“Are you promised to anyone?”

You catch his hand and bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss to his palm before he thumbs your cheekbone.

“None but myself. And my duty.”

He hums in acknowledgment. 

You finger the white patch at his hairline, twirling a clinging curl. 

“Angered a horse as a child and she made it known with her hooves,” he offers. “Frightened the color from that spot, I’m afraid.”

“There’s character in it. I’m quite fond.”

He turns in and rests his chin on the bed, hand back to trailing over your curves. 

“Dove?”

And you frown at the nickname.

“I am nothing so delicate, Doran.”

“A shrike then, perhaps,” he smirks, knuckles ghosting over your stomach. 

And something about it makes your heart preen.

“Has a man ever,” his fingers dip lower over your abdomen, “put his mouth on you?” 

It sends a fresh jolt of pleasure racing up your spine. You turn onto your back without thought, basking in his touch as fingers trail over your mound.

“Right here?” The pads of his middle and ring fingers wind softly against your clit.

“No,” you gasp.

“Then may I have the pleasure of being the first?”

And he is the first in a way that has you wishing for him to be the last. 

The only.

_____

Your handmaid was sympathetic to your cause, having been driven from her own house for true love. They share a small cottage on your father’s land now.

Your mother, though she did not know the intricacies of your continued dalliances with the blacksmith, knew the shift in your demeanor was a man’s doing. And she always was a soft touch for love.

Your father.

Was your mother’s concern. 

And so your nurse covers your footsteps with a tickle in her throat that needs clearing.

Ushers you back into your chambers before morning light with a knowing smile.

“I always thought you would make a pass for the stable hand,” she confesses one day as she pours heated water over your hair. “The blacksmith is a surprise.”

“An unpleasant one?”

“Not in the slightest. He’s handsome.”

You can tell there is more to the sentiment. 

“Yes, and?” You ask with a raised brow.

“Rakish.”

“Perhaps rakish is what I need,” as you rub water from your eyes. 

“No lady with sense needs rakish, my darling girl,” she chides as she rubs soap at your scalp. “But a lady with sense should indulge in it from time to time.” 

This draws a smile across your lips.

“He treats you well?”

“He treats me to pleasure the likes of which I have never known. If I offer this kingdom the breath in my breast every time I leave its gates, the least I may be permitted is the choice of a lover.” 

And so she fixes you bitter tea every morning that you return from your rakish man.

_____

The pair of you take to late night meetings at the old groundskeeper’s shack on your parents’ land. 

Where the splashing of the brook over rocks and the churn of the water wheel stifle the way he makes you cry out in pleasure.

And for one so verbose, he does excel at discretion. Raking ashes from the forge through the patch of white in his hair. Bending shadows around himself as he slips from town and into the forest at the edge of the estate. 

The pair of you carry on for months. Until summer sun yields to the darkening blanket of fall. 

A welcome change that lengthens your stolen hours.

“I’d wager that we were lovers in lives past,” he muses one night, lips pressing kisses against a scar on your shoulder. “You know me, little bird. The very depths of me.”

“Perhaps,” you roll over in a luxuriant stretch, “you are easy to know.”

“The Townsfolk would perhaps beg to differ, my darling.” He rests his hand on your cheek as you curl into him.

“Must you go in the morrow?” He asks softly.

“I’m afraid I must. For it is my duty. To ensure the safety—”

“—of the kingdom,” you both finish.

“In that case, I have made you a gift.” He reaches over your form down to the pocket of his cloak, and produces a small canvas pouch.

He sits up with you, pulling your back to his chest, arms around your middle as he watches you. 

A small silver disk threaded on a chain falls into your palm. An iris stamped into the pendant.

“Doran, it’s beautiful. You made this?”

“It is perhaps more crude than a silversmith’s work,” he helps you fasten it around your neck, “but I wanted you to have something to remember my touch in the absence of it.”

You turn towards him such that he can see you in the firelight. Ash on your jaw from where you held him to your neck, perched atop his hips while he ground deep. 

Silver pendant hanging just above the valley of your breasts. 

“Beautiful,” he smiles, pressing a kiss against your lips, thumbing at the smudge on your chin. “I have always thought there to be something undeniably sensual in the furl of iris petals,” he rumbles, “how fitting for them to be your favorite.”

“Your imagination is swift, Doran.”

“You have not beheld what I have, dearheart,” he pulls you down against the bed linens once more.

Holding you against his heart. 

And he is quiet for a long while, fingers running softly over your stomach, nose buried in your hair.

“What of my safety?” He asks. 

A plea to keep you here. 

“What shall I do?”

“I have no doubt you will find another iris that unfurls for you in the meanwhile,” you hum. Eyes slipping closed. 

“There is only one, my love. I shall wait for your return.”

_____

A grand crowd lines the streets as you and the men of your battalion ride towards the village gates the next morning. Full of cheers and blessings.

And you offer the customary wave and nod.

But your heart hammers against chainmail. 

Eyes darting through the crowd.

Willing a shock a white to appear. 

And as you near the gates he greets you.

Warm brown eyes and a grin of pride. He rushes to push through the crowd as you approach on your mare, eyes never leaving each other. 

You slip one foot from your stirrup and he jams one of his into it and stands, briefly.

Long enough to cup the base of your skull and lay a parting kiss against your lips.

You hurriedly pull your red handkerchief from behind your breastplate, pressing it into his palm as he drops away.

Crushing the cloth to his heart as you slip through the gates. 

And it will yield the ire of your father and the warm, joyous tears of your mother.

But they matter not.

For you do not return home under your own power. 

You return home under a shroud. 

Your nurse slips into the night, treading your path with your necklace in hand.

“She was found with her hand over her heart. And this underneath it.”

And the blacksmith. 

Wrought with grief.

Is never seen again.

Part III: The Helper. The Protector.

He’s called Ezra in this lifetime. 

Brought to this bar by a group of associates keen on celebrating his win in federal court this afternoon. 

And he knows it’s an excuse to drink on the firm’s dime.

He was an associate once too. 

But they helped draft the brief that saved their client $44 million. A few drinks is a small thanks. 

Ezra sticks to the corners, entertaining chatter only when approached. Kindly redirecting the advances of a first year who’s too young to realize flirting with a partner is career suicide.

He’s content tonight to sip his bourbon and observe.

“Okay, but I told you that Bismark case was horseshit and the judge was going to see that!” One associate who is two drinks too deep roars.

“That was so fucking risky, I still can’t believe you put so much weight on that,” another chides.

“Fucking WORKED though!” And the first man spreads his arms wide.

Knocking you into the sip of red wine you were about to take from your seat at the bar. 

“Jesus, fuckin’—” you start before taking a deep breath and glancing down at the patch of deep burgundy beginning to spread on your white blouse. 

Fuck.

“Boys, boys, this lovely lady didn’t consent to hearing your opinions on bullshit 4th Circuit rulings, okay?” Ezra appears, stretching an arm between you and the men. “Let’s be a little more careful, take it to a booth, yeah?”

“Miss, I apologize on their behalf,” he starts and you take another centering breath because you really are not here for some hotshot lawyer’s apologies. This is your spot, and they’re fucking with your Thursday night nightcap.

But the brown eyes you’re met with are wide and sincere.

And something at the very core of you thrums momentarily with something you can’t name. 

“Please, allow me to replace your wine and cover your tab for the night.” He’s already calling the barman over before you can assure him that’s really not necessary because they’ve fucked up your night already and you just want to go home. 

“Could you please arrange a fresh glass of wine for this lovely lady, place her tab on the card I gave you, and may I have a shot glass of white wine. I need the white wine as quickly as you can, please. Thanks very much.”

And you’re still staring at those brown eyes.

Bristling and dumbstruck at the same time. 

“Ezra,” he holds out a hand in belated introduction, and you offer a firm shake and your name in exchange.

“Sorry, a shot glass of white wine?” You quip as the bartender places it in front of Ezra.

He slips a red pocket square from his jacket and dips a corner into the shot glass.

“Apologies, may I?”

And inexplicably you turn in towards him on your bar stool as he dabs at the stain on your shirt. 

Just over your heart. 

“White wine will keep the stain from setting,” he proffers.

You crane your neck to the side, trying to settle your focus on cut glass bottles and not the stranger tending to the fine layer of cotton just above your left breast. 

He’s gentle though. Respectful in a way you perhaps didn’t anticipate. 

He smells of hinoki wood and worn leather.

“Right as rain,” he announces and takes half a step back before offering you the handkerchief. “If you want to hold that there to blot some of the excess.”

“Um, yeah, thank you. Thanks,” you hold the cloth over your heart as the bartender returns with your fresh glass of wine. 

Ezra settles on the barstool next to you.

“How…did you know that?” 

“About the wine?” He swallows a sip of bourbon. “Must’ve read it at some point and it just stuck.”

“Seems you’re a good man to have around in a crisis then,” you smile and tip your glass in his direction. He gently touches the side of his against it, before tapping the heavy base against the bar and taking another sip. 

Everything he does is briefly fascinating. 

“I apologize again for these kids,” he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, producing a business card which he slides over to you face-down. “You should be all good with that,” he gestures at the handkerchief, “but I insist on you sending me the dry cleaning bill. If I’ve recalled incorrectly and it does stain, I will procure a replacement for you, you have my word.”

“That’s really not necessary,” you start and yet find yourself unable to stop, “and I’m not even sure it’s possible this is vintage—”

“Alexander McQueen, I know.”

You turn all the way towards him on your barstool now. 

And his eyes glitter with your fascination as he runs his hand through the patch of white at his hairline.

“What are you reading,” he tips his head to the side as if to glimpse the cover of your book but he doesn’t break your gaze. Cheek dimpled with a half smile. 

“Ovid. Metamorphoses.”

“For fun?” There’s a hint of surprise in his voice but it’s far from belittling. 

“It’s…” you start before a smile splits your face, “yeah. For fun.”

And he echoes your grin.

“I re-read it for fun last year. I think the passage about Orpheus’ death is my favorite.”

“Fascinating,” you swallow a sip of your tempranillo. “Why that one?” 

“Well, I believe it’s a commentary on both the unbridled rage of passion and a testament to the obstinate nature of true love.”

“Obstinate?” You incline your head incredulously. “That’s quite a choice.”

“And yet it holds true, does it not? Orpheus, arguably one of the most talented figures in Greek mythology,” and he’s gesturing broadly now, “able to enchant the very souls of feral beasts and move trees to bend their limbs just to be nearer his music.”

He jabs his finger into the bartop between you, “he moved Hades, both the realm and the deity himself, let’s not forget, correct?”

And you nod, amusement playing across your features. 

“The earth and the underworld fell at his feet. And he shunned it all out of love for Eurydice.”

“And so what moral value do you place on obstinacy?” You ask.

“Obstinacy in love is the only way to experience it. To feel it so completely that you forsake everything else. Defy the world. For love. Fidelity to the wife that you betrayed by turning back.” Brown eyes are wide with his conviction.

He adds, “even Shakespeare said let it be virtuous to be obstinate.”

“Okay, in a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT context!” Your turn to erupt now, with arms thrown in the air where you’re met by his wide smile. “You cannot cherry pick that out of Coriolanus choosing to abandon his family out of sheer stubbornness, and frankly, contempt for his own people, to extol the virtues of love! Let it be virtuous to FORSAKE that love, is the whole point of that line.”

And this is the moment.

That Ezra falls in love.

And you’re not far behind.

Time slips from this point on. Patrons file in and out. More wine and whiskey is poured. Associates drunkenly clap him on the back as they make their way home, but none of it registers.

The world spins around the pair of you.

Until finally the bartender insists that he close his tab. 

And you both step out onto a city street wet with the aftermath of a brief summer downpour. 

“Thank you,” Ezra starts, “for the absolute pleasure of your company.”

He holds a tentative hand out, which you shake with a heartfelt “likewise.”

“Oh, your handkerchief,” you pull it from your pocket and hold it out to him. 

“Keep it.” He smiles. 

And you both spin on your heels. Proceeding in opposite directions.

But the warp and weft of the red cotton square that you keep rubbing between your fingers forces you to stop in your tracks. 

You turn around.

And look back. 

Meeting Ezra’s gaze from where he hasn’t moved a step.

He thumbs the corner of his lips, brown eyes locked on yours.

And you both move. 

Urgent steps pulled by Fates’ string.

Colliding as you throw your arms around his neck and he locks you against him with biceps around your ribs.

Lips crashing together with the relief of a thousand lifetimes. 

Lifetimes that you’ve known each other.

Lifetimes that you’ve lost each other. 

And this lifetime. Having found each other again.

Taglist of folks who may be interested, as always, please do let me know if you'd prefer not to be tagged, or if you'd like to be added!

@morallyinept @iamskyereads @tinytinymenace @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot

@oliveksmoked @nerdieforpedro @julesonrecord

Subpart headings are the meaning of Ezra's name in that section.

Orpheus' monologue included herein in italics is quoted from David Raeburn's 2004 translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, published by Penguin Classics. The text of this translation just felt so Ezra that I had to include it in that form. If you'd like to hear it read by Hozier himself, head on over to his instagram circa summer 2020's Poetry Fridays for this and some other wonderful work.

This story references the version of Eurydice's death as precipitated by Aristaeus.

Láir means mare in Irish Gaelic.

"Let it be virtuous to be obstinate" is quoted from Coriolanus by William Shakespeare.

#prospect ezra #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x female reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #hozier drabble challenge #ohforficsake #talk refined

[exlibrisseverus]

work in progress

I’ve been working on this drawing, sleep-deprived and with many cups of coffee. Was not in the best mood but had a good work flow. But then it happened, the nib of my Apple Pen broke off as I accidentally dropped it to the ground. I was so mad… I’ve tried to continue drawing on the ipad, with my fingers, almost had an inner meltdown of frustration. Went to the gym to compose myself, didn’t helped much, was still angry with myself.

Much later I remembered that i still have my old rusty tiny little wacom bamboo tablet. Well it’s not the perfect condition but better than nothing. Feeling myself motivated again to continue.

-> Oh and the ironic thing with this is that I’ve been imagining scenarios where students in the HP universe break their wands on accident or through clumsiness, finding it funny, giggling to myself. I was kinda like: “Oh yeah, that silly moment when Ron broke his wand, lol” Until my clumsy, sleep-deprived ass accidentally breaks it’s own

“muggle artist wand” (aka apple pen).

RIP comrade 💐 🪦 🫡

P.S: Thank you guys!

I would like to thank you very much for your kind words. I’m quite overwhelmed, I haven’t expected to receive so much kindness and encouragement.

To be honest, being an HP fan was something I did quietly, mostly in private for myself, brooding over my art and headcanons, collecting merch. There were hardly any people around me with the same interest in HP, and I also was too reserved to look around online any further. This is the first time I'm starting to interact more directly with other HP enthusiasts.

I’m very touched that other people showed interest in my art.

Drawing Sev is for me all about expressing my love towards him and i try to do him justice by portraying him in such a way that he feels real to me. And also that it makes me happy when I look at the drawing later.

I wanted to end by saying that I'm relaxed about ships, I don't reject anyone based of their fandom preferences or OCs. I also have my own OC, of course. I’m cool with almost everything as long i can see Sev. Especially when i can see this beautiful overgrown bat.

Really, thank you from the bottom of my heart for the support. Hugs and thanks for reading. 💋

(editor me: by Merlin, that bisch wrote an entire novel lol)

#art wip #wip #digital sketch #severus snape #my art

[mixelation]

have some reborn au i wrote last night. itachi pov, both double times as the start to tori's book club adventures and itachi's fake dates

there's a joke about not microwaving styrofoam.... i just wanted to note before someone "corrects" me that i know there are some supposedly microwave safe styrofoams (like, for example, some types of cup noodles) but in general i would avoid microwaving styrofoam because they can leech toxins into your food and like. melt.

--

Itachi was relieved when Tori pitched an idea for their first date herself. 

“Hey,” she said, snagging his arm in the ANBU breakroom. ANBU Rat looked up from intently watching her lunch in the microwave. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Itachi told her, although part of him was pleased. Gossip in ANBU ran fast. Rat would surely be telling everyone about Tori spontaneously appearing to talk to him. 

He didn’t ask about how she’d gotten into ANBU. If Tori decided she was going somewhere, she went there. She had her lab coat on, which meant she’d probably just wandered over there from R&D. Tori loved talking about how people just listened to people in lab coats, and no warning signs or fancy fuinjutsu was going to stop her. 

“And you make yourself hard to find,” Tori countered. 

This comment was undoubtedly bad for their budding relationship’s PR. Itachi quickly course-corrected. 

“Why don’t we talk over dinner?” he suggested. “I get off at six.”

Tori’s eyes narrowed, suspicious. The microwave dinged and ANBU Rat removed a take-away box. 

“My treat,” Itachi offered. “We haven’t caught up in a while.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tori agreed. She’d always been easy to bribe with a free meal. She turned on her heel and pointed accusingly at ANBU Rat. With evident disgust in her voice, she asked, “Did you just microwave styrofoam?”

Itachi decided Rat would be a valuable witness, as she’d be able to report Itachi neither chastised Tori for sneaking in nor did he do anything to prevent her from telling Rat off over her microwaving etiquette. This was clear favoritism. 

Itachi’s shift ended late, which wasn’t unusual, and he found Tori in one of the chunin breakrooms flipping through a book catalog. She filled him in on her conundrum on their walk over the restaurant: she’d enjoyed her trip to the fan convention, and wanted to start her own fan club in Konoha to recapitulate the sort of mindless fun only a group of people united in love for bad genre fiction could share. 

“Kakashi said he’d join whatever club, but he refuses to talk Icha Icha with me and the Konoha chapter won’t let me in anyway,” she complained. She flapped the catalog at him. “So I have to find a different series.”

Itachi chose a restaurant with outdoor seating along a busy street. Through some minor genjutsu, he convinced a couple to leave early and then a waiter to clear their table immediately so they could be in full view of the passing crowds. If Tori noticed, she was too busy gesticulating with the catalog and reciting prices to say anything. 

It was true that Itachi was a connoisseur of bad ninja fiction, a hobby cultured over long days of uninterrupted travel with Akatsuki. He hadn’t allowed himself much time in this lifetime to read, but he still remembered his favorite inane plots and ridiculous depictions of ninja. It would be interesting to see if his old favorites had stayed the same or not in this timeline, and he found himself missing his old hobby. 

“I’d be happy to join,” he said, perfectly sincere, when the waiter left them with their menus. 

“Oh, good,” Tori replied, eyes brightening. “Okay, so we have three people. Do you think we could convince Deidara?”

Deidara had… mixed opinions on consuming bad art intentionally. As far as Itachi could tell, Deidara was in a constant tug-of-war between his artistic principles and his own personality, and the appeal of bad media seemed to go completely over his head unless he were in the mood to be mean about something. This was fine for a bad movie night, but maybe not the mood Tori was looking for with her little book club. Then again, Itachi was fairly confident he could simply tell Deidara a single opinion on art, and this would incite a lively debate lasting hours. 

“I figured if we host it at our place, he’ll be forced to join,” Tori said, drumming her fingers on the table in thought. 

“That could backfire,” Itachi pointed out. Deidara was so dedicated to his art that he often didn’t care if he lost his own possessions to it. “You can’t expect Deidara to let a quiet evening continue to be quiet if he even suspects he’s been manipulated into it.” 

“Well, maybe we should pick a series first,” Tori backtracked. 

They ordered, and Itachi leafed through the catalog while they waited for food. Tori told some story he could barely follow about how when she was growing up, some books would come with cheap costume jewelry attached to them, and she always begged for those books even though she knew she wouldn’t like the story. 

“They were always about unicorns, and unicorns are just fantasy horses. And I am not a horse girl, Itachi,” she said very seriously.

Itachi assumed she was talking about her previous life. When Tori shared details of her childhood in this timeline, they were usually more disturbing, but at least they made sense. 

“Although it was a great marketing tactic,” Tori continued, picking up her chopsticks and clicking them together thoughtfully. “Imagine if Icha Icha did that. ‘Free anal beads included with every purchase’--”

The waiter chose this moment to arrive with their food, and Tori’s cheeks went pink. Itachi had to duck his head to hide a smile. 

“I thought you said Jiraiya was afraid of anything anal,” Itachi said when the waiter left. That had been one of her favorite rants. Apparently Jiraiya’s homoerotic obsession with Orochimaru manifested as internalized homophobia or something, according to Tori. 

“Ugh,” Tori replied, performatively holding a hand over her eyes. “Listen, just tell me what PG-13 series we could read so I don’t embarrass myself in public again.”

“So do you want me to exclude the ones with horses…?”

Itachi eventually suggested a series which was one of his personal favorites. The first installment lent its name to the whole of the series, and was called Kitty Girl Stabby Ninja. The plot followed a kunoichi sent to assassinate a male missing-nin from her village, but a jutsu gone wrong turned the kunoichi into a cat instead. She was then adopted by the missing-nin, and shenanigans ensued. It was, as far as Itachi had gathered from interviews with the author, written as an inside joke among friends, and she’d simply kept going when the book had received unexpected popularity, writing about increasingly absurd scenarios about people (and once, the concept of a ninjutsu itself) being turned into cats. In Itachi’s opinion, what made the ridiculous shinobi-themed adventures fun rather than puzzlingly inaccurate, was that the narrative never once took itself seriously, except in a handful of a character interactions and emotional beats. The overall result was that the series was a light, charming read. 

“There’s four books out now,” Itachi said, watching Tori’s face as he talked, “and I believe a fifth one should be out soon. I haven’t been following it recently.”

By “recently” he meant “in this timeline.”

Tori had been listening to him with the sort of intense concentration she used when listening to mission briefings, her brows furrowed and her gaze focused on the food in front of her. It was one of her funnier quirks, how seriously she could take relatively unimportant things like a book club. Itachi had thought it made her seem flighty and bad at prioritizing when he first met her, but given it seemed to incur no cost to her ability to concentrate on her actual job, he’d decided it was more endearing, the way Kakashi’s perpetual lateness could seem almost charming after you’d just accepted it as part of personality. 

“No, you’re right,” she told him. “The catalog had a full-page advertisement for the new one. I guess it is pretty popular.”

“I believe it spurred several sister series,” Itachi said. “And the author started hiring ghost writers at some point, so there will always be a new book a few months away.”

Tori hummed, pleased. 

“That means the lore must be intricate,” she said. “That always makes for good fannish activity. Bonus points if it’s also slightly incohesive– that’s what really gets people fixated.”

Itachi didn’t know how to comment on that. But Tori seemed happy about the idea, so he held back a comment about the drop in quality that also happened with the introduction of ghost writers. 

“Alright, I’m convinced,” Tori declared. “We’ll start a Kitty Girl Stabby Ninja book club. I wonder if there are official clubs? I know Ebisu somehow got their Icha Icha club to be officially sanctioned despite the whole secretive ninja village thing, but that one seems a little different because… well, you know…”

When the waiter cleared their plates, Itachi asked for a dessert menu. 

“I think we should share this,” he said, pointing at an item at the bottom of the menu. It was their special house sundae, which he had been coveting for months now. It had three types of ice cream, every in-season fruit you could think of, and both white and dark chocolate shavings. The only thing that had prevented him from ordering it sooner was that it was too much for one person, even him.  

“Ah, I see your game,” Tori said, eyeing him knowingly. “Sure, I’ll help you eat your weight in dessert.”

Itachi could feel the tips of his ears going pink, but it wasn’t like he’d invited her out just to have an excuse to order a sundae. No, he’d just concluded that sharing an ice cream in public would be an undeniably romantic thing to do and also sufficiently in-character for him for his parents to believe it. The fact that he’d also once had a dream about the sundae was simply an added perk. 

“How many people do you want to recruit?” Itachi asked while they waited for their dessert monstrosity. 

“Ten people or fewer, I think,” Toro replied. “Too many and then the discussion can’t be as good. But I figure the first few meetings will have more, and people will drop out because they don’t like the book or they don’t have time or, like, Deidara will scream at someone. And then eventually we’ll get it down to a few dedicated people.”

Itachi thought it would be equally likely that Tori herself would assert something like Only a moron would microwave styrofoam and rub someone the wrong way, or Kakashi would be so intentionally annoying at someone that they’d hide from public for the rest of the week. He held himself back from saying anything, though, even though he’d be entirely correct, because their dessert arrived. 

The ice cream’s size was so great that the waiter needed both hands and they had to clear a space on the table themselves. Tori’s eyebrows rose only slightly as she took it in. A woman at the table next to them grinned knowingly at them. Good, good. 

“Your place is too small for ten people,” Itachi observed, grabbing his spoon.  

Tori seemed to think this over for a few moments. Then she said, “But there’s nowhere else, unless you want to volunteer your place.”

Itachi held back a wince. His parents would probably agree, but then he’d have to go through the awful process of navigating his parents’ attempts to monitor his personal life, and then also dodging the inevitably of Sasuke wanting to join and him having to say no. No, this would suck any ounce of joy he might find in a silly activity like a book club. 

“I thought so,” Tori said, without him having to verbalize any of this. “Maybe we could pressure Kakashi into it, but I don’t think he has much space either. Plus he’d be tempted to like… lock us out on purpose or something and pretend he forgot.”

This seemed plausible. 

“Kushina-sensei would let us,” Itachi offered. Tori immediately made a face. 

“No one’s going to want to meet at the Hokage’s residence,” she protested. 

“Why not?” Itachi asked. 

“Because the Hokage could be there,” she said, and Itachi noted she’d only eaten a single strawberry off the sundae. “No one’s going to want to talk about their dumb headcanons under threat of the Hokage overhearing.”

“None of the potential members you listed will care,” Itachi pointed out. 

Tori frowned, very carefully shaving off ice cream with her spoon in some sort of exact ratio with chocolate. Itachi was right, of course. If anything, Kakashi would be more open at Kushina-sensei’s house, and no one from Team 4 would care. Hokage-sama was a less intimidating host than Itachi’s parents, anyway. 

“But I want to recruit normal people,” Tori said eventually. “Random career chunin. Civilians. You know, new people.” 

“Alright,” Itachi said. “Like who?”

Tori stared back at him. She held her gaze while he had several bites of ice cream, her face slowly screwing up as she wracked her brain for “normal” people she thought she could conceivably approach about a book club. Itachi was fairly certain she wasn’t going to think of anyone. 

“Perhaps one of your labmates?” he suggested. 

Tori averted her gaze, looking mildly peeved. So she was still failing to make friends with anyone in lab. 

“I don’t think it being at the Hokage’s residence will be more of a deterrent than the presence of any of your other members,” Itachi said slowly. “You picked… an intimidating group.”

Tori actually rolled her eyes. “Like you’re all that intimidating,” she said.

“My performance review says I’m unapproachable and mean and my reputation prevents people from commenting on it in pursuit of a solution,” Itachi countered, which actually provoked a laugh from Tori. He didn’t think this review was very fair, because he was almost always correct so why would anyone need to argue with him, but he acknowledged Hokage-sama kept having increasingly stressed talks with him about it.

“Okay, so you’re awful,” she allowed, “but Kakashi? Please. Anyone who’s met him knows he’s just a weird dog man.” 

“I think your perspective might be skewed,” Itachi told her. 

He did not point out that Tori herself had an extremely strong personality, and that the only reason she didn’t already have her own reputation was that forbidden jutsu were by necessity kept secret, so very few people knew how routinely she churned them out. It wasn’t as obvious as his or Kakashi’s or Deidara’s because she was a smiley fifteen year old girl who intentionally carried herself like a civilian, but once you peeled back the several layers of facade, Tori was someone who’d crafted her personality under Orochimaru and the Akatsuki. It was probably why she wasn’t good at making friends– the other shinobi in R&D could undoubtedly sense there was something deeply wrong with what was going on with Tori under the surface. 

Part of what was deeply wrong with her was that she wanted to rope a bunch of normal, unsuspecting people into a book club where she’d probably start spouting conspiracy theories, but that wasn’t the point. 

“Are you trying to use this club to pretend you’re still clinging to your civilian life, because you feel that’s what your normal should be?” Itachi asked. 

Tori’s lips thinned. In a perfect deadpan, she said, “What the fuck, Itachi.”

Too far then, okay. Probably something he shouldn’t push in public, especially when he was pretending to be on an extremely romantic date. 

(This meant he was right, though.)

He deflected by saying, “Have you considered Kushina-sensei and Hokage-sama might want to join?”

Tori groaned loudly. “I just said–” she started. 

She didn’t want any commanding officers at the club. Itachi pointed out her only guaranteed members right now were himself and Kakashi, who were both celebrated Jounin and ANBU captains. Deidara was also a rather infamous Jounin. Tori seemed to get frustrated with his completely sound logic, and switched to asking him what snacks he thought they should have. 

“I think I’ll have to come up with discussion questions too,” she said. “Do you want to help with that?”

“Discussion questions? Why?” Itachi asked. 

Tori’s lips quirked up. “I forgot,” she teased. “You’re uneducated.”

Itachi didn’t think this was fair. The Tori of this timeline had never had any sort of formal schooling. 

“Don’t pout,” Tori told him, performatively sticking her nose up. “You know it’s true. Anyway, the point of discussion questions would be to provoke conversation and keep people from going off topic. We wouldn’t necessarily use them all, but they’d be there for structural purposes.” 

Itachi ended up eating most of the ice cream himself, and he felt uncomfortably full as he offered to walk Tori home. She shot him a confused look.

“Why?” she asked. “I’m out of your way.”

“I want to…” Itachi started. Mostly he wanted to be seen with her, doing boyfriend-like things. “I want to walk off…”

She laughed at him again, needing no further context to understand what he meant. It wasn’t mocking, but rather that she found his predicament genuinely funny. 

“Fine, let’s go along the river, then,” she decided. 

It was a slightly longer walk, but it was undeniably prettier, with the promenade lined by trees. The sun was setting, and the orange glow reflected back at them from the water. It was much more romantic too, he decided. Couples in romance novels were always walking along bodies of water.

That wasn’t bad at all, Itachi decided when he left Tori at the corner of her street. It had been fun, even. That had really been no different from spending time with her as a friend, although perhaps next time he should come up with an excuse to hold her hand. Itachi very rarely had time to spend casually with friends, but he always enjoyed quiet time spent with Shisui, and, he supposed when he thought about it, he did largely enjoy time with Team 4. 

Why didn’t everyone just date their friends? This was the best idea he’d had in a while.

#reborn au #my writing

[briskunt]

ike eveland hero/villain voice pack: no-spoilers review

got my hands on this voice pack recently and figured it would be prime content LMAO. i’m going to write down basic observations and hopefully it’ll convince y’all to support our boy 🙏

⚠️ BLIND REACTIONS TO THE VOICE PACKS BELOW! ⚠️

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

hero pack

first off this is one of the longer (if not longest ⁉️) standalone voice pack i have in my collection. hell, it might be twice as long as some other vps i have

ike has a lower voice than usual here. very warm blanket

but also a rougher type of ike, i think. he’s still the sweet guy you expect, but with a little more weight and responsibility, you know? most of the time people default him to “cute ike” so this is a really nice look into “cool ike” as well as cute

CORNY SCHWORNY SOUND EFFECT

speaking of i would be doing the audio boy a disservice if i didn’t mention the audio quality. ike vps have excellent atmospheric sound design and when i compare this one to his past vps, you can tell he had fun picking out sfx and mixing them

i’m impressed how much worldbuilding there is and how naturally it’s been implemented. this is an immersive vp

if you like when ike gets assertive and speaks up you’ll be happy. and if you like when ike gets royal-flash levels of chuuni dork you’ll be happy

CORNY SCHWORNY SOUND EFFECT RETURNS

might be my editor brain being nitpicky but he uses the same phrase to transition twice in a row and it set me off

oh holy shit he calls you that?

oh this voice pack would do numbers with a demographic

easily one of my new favorite vps. i don’t have every ike vp so apologies if this doesn’t apply, but out of my collection this one hits a niche that none of the others do: a cool, nonchalant-badass, resolute typa ike. don’t misunderstand though, he’s still as dorky as ever. honestly i think this is the dorkiest i’ve seen him in a vp

this pack is less fanservice, more story. yep, there are moments that seem romantic, but it’s very easy to imagine the relationship between ike and the listener as something else. it’s versatile and i really enjoy that considering how many voice packs go into the whole heterosexual-romance thing. i wasn’t kidding about the worldbuilding. it’s simple but effective, and illustrates the setting excellently. close your eyes when you listen to this one, it’s a good experience. ike put a lot of detail and effort into the voice performance and sfx, and it shows

if you liked luca’s pampering/scolding voice, you might enjoy this one too. definitely recommending for anyone that loves when ike takes the lead, or anyone that appreciates an ambiguous relationship between liver and listener! honestly, this would be an incredibly safe buy for even folx hesitant on buying voices. ike flexes some aspects of his wide range not just as a voice actor but also as a writer and sound designer. if you’ve heard that quilldren get well-fed from ike voices then they’ll be FEASTING on this one

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

villain

the wallpaper is only included in the villain pack. this art WILL make you sick in the head. i really love the rendering and lighting. you can recognize a lot of elements from his 1.0 outfit like the pattern on the left of his mantle, the pins (?), and his book. i’m glad i’m not tempted to change my wallpaper, because in every wallpaper included in the pack, ike or shoichi’s face would always get cut off by the clock on my iphone’s lock screen. beautiful artwork stunted by how niji awkwardly cuts off wallpapers

okay fuck what i said earlier now THIS is the longest standalone voice pack i own. and it’s not even close. looks like someone outdid himself

again low voice ike tskr tskr whatever. it’s lower than the hero pack. i haven’t compared it to the halloween eki stream, but it’s basically a faster-paced, perkier(?) eki voice

(to be clear it’s not eki. this is villain!ike. i think. will not update if it actually is him, i ain’t spoiling that)

surprisingly domestic here

he says a lot of big words

it’s giving cyrus from pokémon. you understand.

oh my god the backstory

LESGOOOOO THE LAUGH

oh he’s a little fucked up in this one

just a heads up: i’m sure it was plain before but the villain pack has way darker themes than the hero one. do i think it’s intense? not really. but if you have #yandere blocked then you might want to skip this one

once again the relationship is ambiguous here but imo it sounds more romantic than the hero one. this might be an overstatement, but if you can’t handle dubcon in general i’d also skip this. again, nothing explicit happens but if you really can’t stand when the villain has a good guy in their clutches, skip this one

anyways. that rasp is worth the warnings 😳

this is definitely a voice pack for a demographic

and i also understand why my friend popped off in the gc about it LMMAOOOOO

look. it’s a sfw voice pack. but if you’re a kinky son of a bitch you’ll find something to enjoy here. he talks down on you a bit and the subject matter sure is the subject matter.

i think of this as a more intense version of the hero pack. the setting is completely different than what you get in the hero pack and feels a lot more visceral. for example the sound effects are a bit more “realistic”, and the listener is in a dangerous place without any backup. to be clear: the listener is not evil in the villain vp.

i worry that i’m being too heavy-handed about warnings but considering some folx’ boundaries online it bears repeating! if you can’t handle yandere or dubcon, be careful. but if it’s only a mild discomfort to you, it should be fine.

regardless i doubt there will be another one vp like this for a long time. if you soaked up the eki stream like a sponge? GET THIS! if you like ike being mean and deranged get this. if you’re down horrendous sure, get this i guess, and then follow it up with ike’s white day ex if you have it? i feel like that would be a good pairing.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

overall

if you’re into voice packs then i’d say getting one of these is a must-buy. if not for the romance, then for the story and worldbuilding. if. if not the story then because hero!ike is a darling and villain!ike is hot.

even if he’s not your oshi ike’s packs are always a delight! and these are some of the most fun i’ve had with one of his releases. idk what else to say. if you like the guy even a little, it’s worth listening to. he’s definitely in his wheelhouse on both hero and villain. if this is your first ike vp you may be surprised how high the production value is considering it’s all by one guy

get hero if you want a lighthearted conflict, immersion, and a connection to the listener that isn’t necessarily romantic. get villain if you want more drama, more danger, more… uh… i wouldn’t really call it degradation but he has his moments. there isn’t a connected story, so feel free to get both but don’t sweat it if you don’t!

#ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #luxiem #luxiem x reader #4402 reviews: voice pack

[trans-luis-serra-navarro]

Hi I LOVE luis and I LOVE Serennedy and I’m SO HAPPY you have asks on!!

Anyways I was laughing to myself this morning about Luis’s first words to Leon being in English. Ik it’s just for the benefit of the players of re4r BUT I like to think that he only had to take one look at blonde, thicc, gun-clad Leon and go “yeah that’s an American, better speak English” like logically that’s a Spanish man in his isolated Spanish village, so he had no other reason to NOT speak Spanish there!!! He clocked Leon so fast lolol.

That’s not really question but wanted to share my brainrot. So uhhh, read any good Serennedy fics lately?

TUMBLR DELETED MY EXTREMELY LOMG ANSWER TO THIS AND I AM S O MAD BUT YOU HAVE SUCH A BIG MASSIVE BRAIN I JUST H A D TO DRAW YOUR CONCEPT

((Also not to plug my own art or anything but my main is @wisecrackingeric-2 if you wanna see more stuff like that!!!!))

BUT OH MY GOD?? Y E S ?????????? HOW HAVE I NEVER THOUGHT OF THIS BEFORE HOLY CRAP Leon’s big bodacious behind and jokes aside I REALLY WISH we got to see more of Luis using Spanish in casual conversation!!!!!! Like clearly he’s both VERY fluent in English and Spanish and uses them both interchangeably but GOD I WISH WE GOT TO HEAR LIKE A FULL CONVERSATION BETWEEN HIM AND MENDEZ OR SOMETHING. Like that opening scene in seperate ways???? MUWAH. IT WAS SO COOL. ANYWAYS YOUR ACTUAL QUESTION YES I HAVE S O MANY FIC RECS I CAN GIVE YOU!!!!!

‘Nothing Fades Like The Light’ by @greasedcowboy is genuinely possibly my favourite fanfiction of all time. I’ve never had to go lay down on my bathroom floor because of a fic until this one HXNEHENDIX

‘Another Time’ by @hamartia-grander is S U C H AN INCREDIBLY WELL PACED time travel fic with the most GUT WRENCHING plot twists EVER’

‘I Carry All My Sins’ by @mooseonahunt I don’t. I don’t even wanna spoil this one. Just. Just read it totally blind

‘Loves For Show’ by @theprestigegirly Is S U C H a good fake-dating slowburn fic which is H I G H PRAISE coming from someone who usually isn’t a fan of the genre!!!!!!!! Seriously if you like beautiful wording and gorgeous depictions of raw human emotion this one’s for you!!!!!!!!!!!!

‘We’ll Be Alright’ by @ugetelynx IS SO GOOD. GOD ITS SO GOOD MAN. It’s a S U P E R unique AU and the way Lynx weaves the story and takes you along the path of these two slowly learning how to live a life with one another- MWUAH. LITERALLY SO GORGEOUS. Prepare to have your soul ripped out of your ribcage

‘Redemption Of The Guilty’ by Sylanna!!!!! Again another one where I’m like just!!!! Go read it!!!!!!!! I don’t wanna spoil it!!

‘Digital Man’ by @geddy-leesbian CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU (<- going insane pounding my fists on a wooden table)

‘Renovations’ by Gayhorrorboy IS SO CHARMING AND FULL OF GENUINE LOVE FOR THE SUBJECT AT HAND!!!!! I’ve been watching my friend work on this fic for MONTHS now and I can say with confidence it was made with so much love and care I can’t reccomend it enough!!!!

I W O U L D be tacky and add my own fics to this list but I haven’t stooped that low yet HANDHDNSJX if you’re curious though my AO3 handle is just WisecrackingEric!!!

#asks #ericsart #resident evil fanfiction #serennedy

[loveandmurders]

I read the “Why am I not dead already?” Which had Bo having a fight with his S/O and asks Vincent why wasn’t she dead (I prefer to keep it g/n please)…. Could you do a Vincent one? Similar thing too on how the reader was telling Vincent “Why am I still alive? Why haven’t you turned me into a wax statue like the rest of the group I came here with?” Keep up your great work 🖤🤘🏻❤️‍🔥

Hello there! I’m so happy you sent me this request and I hope you’ll enjoy this <3

You can find Bo’s version here.

Gender neutral reader with no physical description.

WHY AM I NOT DEAD ALREADY (Vincent’s version)

Warnings: mention of murders, Bo being an ass, two cute insecure babies, angst/comfort

It had been a few months you were now living with the Sinclairs. You even had your own bedroom in their house.

You came to Ambrose with a touristic bus, and you never left. Like the rest of the group; except you were alive when none of them were.

You were the little artist of the group, drawing and looking around with bright curious eyes. You caught Vincent’s attention right away and you got spared.

But you didn’t know for how long.

You were sitting in the House of Wax, in front of three people of your group, now turned into wax sculptures.

You were staring at them, as if they could answer your silent questions.

Bo hadn’t been very nice with you this morning; and he had reminded you to be good or you would end badly.

Vincent hadn’t been there to stand up for you. And truth to be told, it wouldn’t have changed anything.

You had asked yourself quite often why you were still there, and Bo’s words only reminded you even more that you clearly were an accident.

There was no way you should still be alive in the Sinclairs’ plan.

And it worried you. You didn’t want to get killed now you had started a relationship with Vincent. You truly liked him and enjoyed your time with him, and the little dates and cute cuddles with him.

You were afraid you were naïve and Vincent was just toying with you, ready to kill you when you wouldn’t think about it.

You sighed and were so caught up with your thoughts that you didn’t hear the masked twin walking closer to you.

He was surprised to find you in front of those sculptures, and by how silent and thoughtful you seemed to be. You looked a little bit sad as well, and it broke his heart.

He knew he wasn’t offering you the best of life, and he was really afraid you were “dating” him only because you thought he would kill you otherwise.

He hated how he couldn’t find the right words to let you know that he had fallen in love with you pretty much the instant he saw you the first time. And how his affection toward you only grew, because you were perfect to him.

He silently sat next to you, on the ground, and he softly reached for your hand that he brought on his lap.

You had tensed a little before relaxing again under his familiar touch. He brought your hand to his masked lips and you gently smiled at him, even though the questions swirling inside your head were hurting you.

You stayed like that, silent. But it wasn’t really comfortable like it usually was.

Vincent wasn’t an idiot and he knew that something was wrong because usually, your head would be on his shoulder and you would be tenderly kissing his neck and shoulder before cuddling closer and settling on his lap.

You were very affectionate with him and it never failed to flutter him, but at the same time he absolutely loved it. You could even make him forget about his art when you were snuggling against him and loving on him.

He was touch and love starved, and you were making him happy like never in his life.

And even if Bo was still a little bit suspicious you would run away, one day, he liked you because Vincent was so full of joy and energy and renewed passion for life now you were around. Lester also loved the warmth you were bringing to Ambrose and enjoyed chatting with you.

Vincent turned toward you and started to sign: What’s wrong, my love?

You shook your head; you didn’t want to talk about it because you weren’t sure how Vincent would react.

Even if you liked him, your instincts never failed to remind you that you were now living with killers who could so easily hurt you. Vincent could destroy you - you really believed he was the most dangerous out of the three boys -, and you didn’t want to upset him.

But Vincent wasn’t going to let the subject go that easily. Even if he understood boundaries, he needed to know. He couldn’t stand the idea of losing you.

Did I upset you? If so, I’m very sorry and I’d love to make it up to you, he tried again and you nibbled on your lips.

“You promise you won’t be mad at me?” you asked and his eye widened at this question. He really didn’t want you to be afraid of him.

He was quick to shake his head and to lift his mask so he could kiss the back of your hand, as to show you he could only love you.

You took a deep breath.

“Why am I not dead, Vinny? Why didn’t you turn me into a wax sculpture like the rest of the group I came with? Why did you keep me around?” You babbled without looking at him. His mask was preventing you from knowing what he was thinking anyways.

Vincent’s heart dropped at those questions.

He had really hoped you would know by now that if he kept you around was that because he couldn’t imagine going back to an existence without you by his side.

He was silently panicking, trying to find the appropriate answer, the one that would appease you and prove you that you have nothing to worry about him, or Bo or Lester.

But his silence was actually frightening you and you finally looked up at him.

“Oh so you’re going to kill me at one point” you said and you smiled very weakly at him. You really should have known better.

So far, you had always tried to convince yourself that if you were still alive it was because you were special or something like that; but the boys were probably getting lonely and Vincent just needed a pet for a little while before getting rid of it.

But you should have known better: you had never been special to anyone before; so why would it be different now?

You looked down at your lap but Vincent grabbed your chin to make you look up at him. He shook his head.

You’re my partner, I would never hurt you, even less kill you, he finally signed because he thought the easiest was to be straight forward.

You nibbled on your lips once again and he gently moved a finger over them so you wouldn’t hurt yourself.

“I don’t understand… I mean even Bo said this morning I needed to obey or I would get killed. And there are so many tourists, and hot and smart people coming by to Ambrose, so why would you keep me?” you continued to voice out your fears.

Bo is an asshole, but he likes you more than you think Vincent replied but he made a mental note to kick Bo’s ass for having said such things to you. Vincent needed you to feel safe around them, more than anything.

He would go insane if you ever tried to leave him.

And you are hot, and smart, and crafty and affectionate and a ray of sunshine in there. It… It is impossible to not fall in love with you. Vincent finally admitted. It was the first time he told you he loved you, but he knew you needed to hear it even if you weren’t ready to say it back.

You watched him with wide eyes. You weren’t certain he was saying the truth or if he was manipulating you. It was hard to know with Vincent but the way he gently tried to bring you closer to him, the way he softly stroked your hand, the way he was so worryingly looking at your reactions… It was saying a lot.

You were too shocked to answer at first.

Say something, please? He pleaded with you and you went back to reality.

“So I’m here because you love me?” you said, even though you couldn’t believe someone as amazing as Vincent could be in love with you.

When I first saw you, I thought you were an angel. And your laugh was the most beautiful sound I ever heard. It was the first time I didn’t think my art could do justice to someone. You were so lively, so curious about everything around here. Even Bo was amused by all the questions you were asking. Turning you into a wax sculpture would have been a waste. Even though I wanted to keep you here, as my muse. I’m so grateful you have started to feel affection towards me. 

“Your muse?” you repeated, completely taken aback by everything Vincent was telling you.

He nodded, I’m awfully late in my House of Wax projects because I spent hours drawing and sculpting you, but it’s never good enough for me to show you. You are beyond perfection and my art can’t reach it.

You were absolutely speechless so you simply wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him. He brought you closer, making you straddle his lap so he could have you all against his chest. His hands were tenderly stroking your back and sides.

“So no one will hurt me here?” you asked, just to be sure

I promise you you’re safe. I’ll have a discussion with Bo but he would never dare touch you, Lester either. And we all keep an eye on you when tourists are around.

You didn’t ask if they were watching over you to protect you or preventing you from escaping them.

And you…? He started but stopped mid sentence, not sure how to ask you to appease his own insecurities.

“And me?” you wondered

Do you really like me or do you just pretend so I don’t kill you? And before you could answer he quickly added: I mean it wouldn’t change anything about what I feel for you. Even if you didn’t want me anymore, you would still be safe. It would just be very heartbreaking for me to have to keep my hands from you after you let me worship you for months.

Worship was definitely the word and you would lie if you said you didn’t adore it.

“I was scared at first, you know. You killed all those people with your brothers and I didn’t know what you were going to do with me. So yeah, I was docile because I wanted to live. But then you’ve always been good to me, and no one ever treated me so well actually. And you’re a genius, I love to talk with you and watch you create. You’re really amazing and I really like you, even though a little voice in my head never stops telling me that one day you’ll grow tired of me, because everyone always do and you are a killer” you tried to explain

Vincent was very flustered that you called him “a genius” and “amazing”, and he almost felt shy. He couldn’t believe you liked him either, but it warmed his heart. He couldn’t get enough of you, and he was so relieved he could continue to treat you like his personal little divinity.

I’m afraid you will change your mind when you’ll see my face though he admitted but you shook your head

“I strongly disagree… And as long as you have me, I’ll have you too” you reassured him as you leaned your forehead against his.

He held you even more tightly and let out a little sound of happiness, like a soft purr and you truly smiled.

You stayed like that for a little while, enjoying each other’s warmth and affection.

You both felt quite safe, reassured and appeased after this conversation. You were glad you had it, even though you were aware you might need to have it again from time to time, just to be certain that he was still in love with you, and that you weren’t afraid of him.

“Vinny?” 

“Hmmm?”

“I wanna see the drawings you made of me. And before you say no, because they aren’t good enough. As your muse, I feel like I have the right to see them”

Vincent looked up at you, a little bit surprised by this new side of your personality.

You were going to be such a playful tease now Vincent had reassured you… Not that he minded one bit, quite the contrary actually.

Taglist:

@feathery-ass

@g0thl3zz

@erasable-mustache  

@cavern-creature

@peachycupotea

#House of Wax #house of wax x reader #house of wax x you #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x y/n #vincent sinclair x s/o #vincent sinclair headcanon #house of wax headcanon #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #slasher headcanons #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o #slasher x you #slasher x y/n

[oleander-nin]

A/N, not important: YO THIS IS IT! I'M DONE! This is my last request from the follower special. I'm so tired. I hope I did Raph justice, he's always difficult for me to write. Also, I've never written a kiss scene like this before, which is probably obvious form how bad it was. Anyways, I'm going to go do homework now. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: Fluff, bad characterization, kissing

Words: 1429

Prompt(s) requested: 7(Running in the rain)

Summary: Raph didn't mean to wait this long, but it's now or never. He really hopes he isn't too late.

Raph sits at the island counter in the kitchen, a warm cup of tea in his hand. His eyes wash over the scene in front of him, taking in the details. The lair was warm and cozy, a stark contrast to the wet, cold surface. He could faintly hear the rain thrumming against the concrete above. It was peaceful, with everyone being holed up in the lair. You were there, sitting with his brothers. Mikey was showing off another one of his drawings, your praise for his art singing high. Raph smiles behind the lip of his mug, happy everyone was getting along so well.

They all knew you were leaving soon. Off to college as most kids your age were. Raph puts his mug down and stares into the golden liquid, a small frown on your face. He never did conjure up the courage to tell you how he felt and now he was certain he never could. How could he, after you told them all you were leaving for college. 30 minutes from now, you would be on a bus heading to the airport so you could make it to college.

The large snapper chewed on the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t help but feel bitter about it, even if it was technically his own fault. Maybe if he told you earlier, or even told you at all, you might’ve stayed. Or, you might've at least picked a college closer to home. But now it was too late, and the person he loved was leaving. Would you still visit? Would you still call? Raph hoped so. He really really hoped so.

Leo walks into the kitchen, waving at his older brother. At Leo’s approach, Raph scoots over slightly to make room for the younger turtle. Leo sits next to Raph, resting his elbows on the counter and his chin in his palms. 

“You haven’t told them.”

Raph avoids his brother's gaze, sipping on his tea as a distraction. The liquid inside was quickly depleting from the amount of times Raph had done this. He really needed a refill. Or a better excuse. He couldn’t stomach seeing you before you left, possibly forever. “Raph knows.”

“You should probably do it soon, you’re running out of time.” Leo says, looking past the doorway and into the living room where everyone else was situated. Even Donnie had been hanging out with you all day, despite claiming he was too busy.

Raph only sighs at his brother’s words. Leo was right, he knew he was. You were leaving, and here he was, avoiding you. This was the worst way to do it. His voice sounds defeated as he speaks in his low tone. “Raph knows.”

Leo watches as Raph swirls the rest of his tea in its cup before drinking it in one final gulp. Raph gets off the chair he was sitting in and sets the mug carefully in the sink, grabbing the dish soap and washing it out. Leo says nothing, and neither does Raph. It was a heavy silence, much thicker than the airy tone of the room just next door. Raph could hear your voice sounding loud and clear as you swapped stories with his youngest brothers.

He puts the now clean mug on the dish rack as you wrap up a story about something one of your coworkers did, April’s loud laughter echoing around. Raph could sense Leo’s stare, his scales itching at the feeling. He knew he was being a coward, and wasn’t acting like a hero at all. How could he fight bad guys if he couldn’t even tell you about his stupid crush?

Raph doesn’t know how long he stood there, staring into the sink as he contemplated what to do. Telling you wouldn’t help anything, you were still leaving. But, it might just make the visits back home just that more sweet. Raph exhales slowly. He would tell you.

When Raph turns around, he is hit by the stark realization Leo was gone. Raph listens for a moment, expecting to hear your voice sounding loud through the lair, but all is silent. A pit forms in the snapper's stomach as he carefully walks forward, peeking his head through the doorway. You were gone. Raph looks back and forth between the lair. His brothers were still there, as were the Casey’s, April, and his dad, but you were nowhere to be found. Raph felt sick.

“Where’s (Y/n)?” He asks, already knowing the answer. You had left. The faces of Mikey and Casey Jr. confirm this, both looking uncomfortable. Donnie glances up from his phone at the eldest brother, nodding his head towards the door.

“Oh they just left. If you hurry, you might be able to catch them.”

Raph nods, thankful for his brother's advice as he takes off with nothing more than a hushed goodbye. He couldn’t let you leave, not without saying goodbye. He couldn’t understand why you didn’t in the first place. Raph pushes the growing thought out of his head. In reality, you probably tried, but ended up getting ignored by him in his half lucid state.

Raph lifted open the manhole cover that led to the surface, runoff water pouring onto his face. He shakes it off with a grimace, climbing out of the sewers and standing in the vacant alleway. The downpour quickly drenches Raph despite having only been outside for mere moments. The water doesn’t stop him however, as he quickly starts to make his way to the bus stop, and by association, you.

He would tell you how it feels even if it killed him. He had to.

Raph quickly makes his way to the rooftops, running and jumping despite the slick surfaces from the rain. Was it dangerous? Yes. Did Raph care in the slightest? No. His goal was to get to you before you left, and he planned to complete it. 

The bus stop comes into view and Raph skids to a halt a couple rooftops away. Water was running down his face and into his eyes, making it hard to see. The cold water makes him shiver as he scans the ground for your figure. He couldn’t lose you, not yet.

His body almost crumples in relief when he sees you approaching, your raincoat, boots and umbrella making you easy to spot. Raph jumps down into the closet alley to the bus stop, waiting patiently for you to walk by. He didn’t want to scare you, but he couldn’t risk being seen.

Once he notices you’re about to walk in front of the alley opening, he calls out your name. Your head turns, and your eyes meet. Raph smiles warmly at you, gently taking you by the hand and pulling you into the shadows of the alley. Your bus arrived in nearly seven minutes, so he had to make this fast. Short, sweet, and to the point.

“Can Raph kiss you?” Raph panics slightly at the words that tumble out of his mouth without permission. That was too short. Raph stumbles over his words a bit at your confused face, trying to explain himself. “Raph- I love you. I’ve loved you for such a long time, and I can’t let you go. Not like this. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Your hands cupping his face was not what Raph expected, nor the smug smile. You pull him in for a kiss, your lips meeting his in a gentle succession. Raph’s knees nearly buckle before he steadies himself once more. The snapper’s heart swelled in his chest, and he had to keep himself from pulling you back when you separated.

“Wait for me.” You whisper against his lips, the bus that would start your journey beginning to pull to a stop. Raph thought it was a silly request, he would wait a lifetime if it meant he got to see you again. Raph kisses you again as an answer, his large hands hovering just above your sides. He was terrified he might never let go if he held you now. You pull back from him, your eyes shining with fresh tears to match the falling rain. You give Raph a final wave before heading to the bus, disappearing around the corner to load on. Raph watches your fleeting form, frozen for just a moment. He quickly makes his way onto the roof, watching as the bus drives off, taking you with it. Raph wanted you back already, the pang in his heart growing stronger every inch the bus gained.

#raph #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt raph #raphael #rise raph #raph tmnt #mikey #donnie #raph x reader #tmnt raphael #rottmnt raph x reader #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt raphael #raph rottmnt #raph/reader #reader x raph #rise raph x reader #rise tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #rise of the turtles #rise x reader #raph tmnt x reader

[hayleythesugarbowl]

In This Together || Remus Lupin x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • my other remus x reader oneshot ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: oneshot where when remus resigns from the position of defense agains the dark arts teacher and leaves hogwarts, he decides it’s finally time to tell you the truth about himself and his ‘furry little problem’

word count: 2.1k

warnings: none, just remus being remus

a/n: this takes place in harry’s year 3 so its older!remus since I haven’t seen as many fics that take place with him in that era as it’s always marauders era. anyways i figured i’d write to fill the void and i hope someone enjoys this!! 🎀🍓

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     You sipped your tea slowly as you gazed out the window of your cottage and let the June breeze tickle your face.

     It had been nearly six hours since you’d received an owl from Remus saying that he would be returning from Hogwarts early. 

     Dearest (Y/n),

     I hope you are doing well. I am afraid things have not gone as planned at Hogwarts. I am coming home very soon. Unfortunately I must not stay here any longer but if there is one consolation it is that I cannot wait to see your face. I have missed you so much. I will explain everything when I see you. 

     All my love,

Remus

     You hadn’t the faintest idea what could have caused him to return home early. You’d thought the school year still had multiple weeks left, and had almost driven yourself mad these past few hours worrying about what could be amiss.

     All you knew was that Remus had been so excited about teaching at Hogwarts. He’d practically spent the whole of the weeks before he left talking about it. You had loved hearing about his enthusiasm for Defense Against the Dark Arts and knew his students would be in good hands. 

     You’d only been dating for three months back then, but as you thought about it now, smiling at the memory, you realized how much it felt like you’d known him forever. 

     You couldn’t deny how happy you were that he was returning early, even if just by a few weeks, since you’d only seen him briefly during holidays since the school year had started. But you couldn’t shake the worry that crept into your mind. 

     You brushed a strand of hair out of your face and watched the movement of a bird flying circles around a tree outside as you waited. 

     You could smell the loaves of banana bread, freshly cooked and cooling on the counter behind you. You owned a bakery in the village, Charmed Confections, and your new magical banana bread recipe was soon to be a featured item there. You continued to daydream about your menu when a loud bang suddenly filled your cottage and you spun around instantly. There, standing on the wooden floor, was Remus Lupin, in the same worn robes you’d seen him in when he left for Hogwarts last year and just about every holiday since then—his favorites. 

     “Remus!” You ran over to him.

     “(Y/n), I’ve missed you.” 

     You jumped into his arms, his familiar scent of cinnamon and scrolls greeting your nose. He held you tightly but you thought you didn’t imagine how he winced as he did so. You leaned back and looked up at him. He was smiling down at you, but he looked weary. You couldn’t help but see the evidence of lack of sleep on his face and could tell he’d had a lot on his mind. 

     “Just as beautiful as I remember,” he complimented you, brushing your hair back from your face. He leaned in and kissed you softly. You wrapped your arms around his back tighter and he sucked in a breath sharply. 

     You pulled back and looked at him concerned. “Remus, are you ok?” 

      He let out sigh, “Yes, love, just tired. That’s all.” You weren’t convinced. 

     “Would you like some tea?” You gestured to the pot of tea on the counter behind you. 

     “Tea would be lovely.” 

      You walked into the small kitchen to pour him a cup as he carried his bags across the room, taking off his cloak and sitting down in a small armchair. You handed him the steaming cup of tea and sat down across from him.

      You were unsure how to begin. Suddenly you could almost feel the distance between you, as if he’d been gone for years instead of months. You couldn’t tell if it was the time apart or whatever happened at Hogwarts that was causing it. You knew all sorts of crazy things happened there every day—especially since the famous Harry Potter began attending. You looked back on your days at Hogwarts fondly, remembering your time there.

     “So,” Remus finally said, “tell me everything.”

     You shrugged, “Oh, you know, same ol’ same ol’. Running the shop, baking for the shop, missing you.” You nudged his foot with yours and Remus looked down, smiling.

     “But what about you, what happened at Hogwarts?” You fidgeted with the ties of your top. 

     Remus took in a long breath. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you this for days but I suppose there’s no easy way to do it,” he looks at you and then back down at the floor, “I-I resigned.” 

     What? You couldn’t believe it. Whatever explanation he had for leaving the school, you never thought it’d be this. He loved teaching the young witches and wizards at Hogwarts how to defend themselves against dark magic. You could practically feel him beaming about it every time you read one of his letters. It was one of the things you loved most about him. His passion for nurturing and bettering the lives of others.

     “Why?” Is all you asked. 

     Remus looked at you and you saw the reluctance and fear in his eyes. Your hands tightened on the fabric of your skirt. He didn’t say anything right away, and you could see the muscles in his jaw bounce as he clenched his teeth. 

     “Remus?” You tried again. 

     “(Y/n), I-I’ve been dreading this moment but, it’s not fair of me to keep this from you and I-I have to tell you something. I—” His voice shook and he broke off.

     “Ok, now you’re scaring me,” you said. 

     Remus went to place a hand on your leg, but stopped and drew back abruptly. He continued.

     “Do you remember the time back when we first started seeing each other and I told you that I was spending the weekend with some old friends in the country?”

     You nodded, not understanding what he was getting at.

     “And a month or so after that when I was visiting my cousin?”

     “Remus, what does this have to—”

      He sighed. “I wasn’t. Visiting my friends—or my cousin. Any of it! I was—I-I can’t.” He broke off, struggling with himself.

     This time you reached out and touched him, laying a hand on his arm. “You can tell me anything, you know that right?”

     “I’m afraid—if I say this, you won’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

     You looked at him in confusion. How could that ever be the case?

     “I would never—you didn’t…cheat on me did you?” You hated to even think it, much less say it aloud. You trusted him so much. But he was starting to freak you out.

     “No, love, nothing like that,” he hurriedly assured you, “not in a million years.” 

     That slowed your heartbeat if only a little. “Then what is it?”

     He steeled himself, “I’m…a werewolf, (Y/n).” He let that sink in for a minute. What? You’d read about werewolves, of course. And you knew how they could be any witch or wizard, only transforming when the moon was full. But you’d never given them much thought. And Remus, he was…

     When you didn’t respond out of pure shock, he continued. “That’s what took me away all those times—not my cousin. Not my friends. Myself. I couldn’t bring myself to show you the truth or—or risk hurting you,” he flinched, “so I left until my—my sickness passed.”

     “So Hogwarts..” was all you could get out, unable to process the rest.

      “The reason I resigned is because there was an incident involving Professor Snape and a few of my students and the news of my—condition— will soon spread far and wide. Parents will not want their children being taught by me after they know what I am.”

      “How long have you…?” You trailed off.

       His face turned bitter. “I was bit when I was four—my parents and I, we were able to manage it. It was tough at Hogwarts but Sirius and James and Peter made it easier.”       

     You’d heard all about his childhood friends, of course. You knew how close the four of them were. He talked about them all the time—telling you stories of James and his broomstick, Peter always bringing snacks for the group, and noble Sirius and his innocence in all of news surrounding him lately. 

     “They became anamagi to be with me whenever there was a full moon,” he continued, the ghost of a smile barely visible on his lips, “but once, when I was 16, they thought it would be funny to lead Professor Snape to where I stayed hidden. They got carried away, I suppose. I almost killed a boy, (Y/n). And—I could never have forgiven myself if I—”

     “It wasn’t your fault, Remus,” you assured him. His hand was shaking now and you steadied it with yours. He looked at your hands touching as if they were burning, but didn’t pull away. 

     “I completely understand if you’re mad or disgusted and want me to leave right now, but I had to tell you the truth before it ate away at me any longer and you deserve to know—”

     You held up a hand, “Woah, slow down. How could I ever be disgusted by you?”

     “I’m a monster, (Y/n).”

     “You’re not, Remus. You’re a caring, intelligent, kind, selfless man and I love you, sweetie, and I could never love you any less. This doesn’t—and won’t ever—change the way I feel about you. I just wish you’d told me sooner. I could’ve helped.” The thought of him all alone and miserable made you sick. 

     “I didn’t want you to see me like that and I could have hurt you. I can’t control myself when—”

     “Hey, it doesn’t matter. I’m here, and I want to help. Always,” you assure him. “Is there anything I can do now?”

    You stood up and noticed how he winced when he turned to look at you, reminding you of the way he acted when he first got home. You slowly walked over and undid his robes gingerly, working until you could see the scars marring his back and shoulders. 

     “Remus…”

      “Please, don’t worry about me. They should heal up in a day or two. It hurts now, but it was worth it if Sirius stopped me from hurting Harry and his friends.”

      Still, you picked up your wand from the counter and mumbled a few spells quickly that hopefully would help him heal quicker. You began pulling his robes and shirt back over his back and he looked up at you carefully as you did so, watching your face intently. 

     He looked into your eyes, as if barely believing you were real. “So you really don’t, hate me?”

     “Of course not, if anything, I love you more for being vulnerable and honest with me.” You couldn’t stand to think about how tormented by this he’d been and how you hadn’t been able to be there for him.

     “I just, I don’t want to be a burden to you or keep you from being with someone better than me. I mean look at you. You could have any guy you wanted,” he smiled wryly.

     You grinned, “Too bad I want you then, because you’re kinda stuck with me.” You laughed and hadn’t realized tears had begun to fall down your face until Remus lifted a finger to your cheek and brushed them away. “We’re in this together now, you know that right?”

     “How did I get so lucky?” He said. 

     “I just have one question,” you sniffed. “Why did you decide to tell me now?” 

     Remus looked at you shyly. “Because you’re the one, (Y/n). The one I want to spend the rest of my life with. And I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

     You sat down in the couch next to him and he pulled you close by your waist, wrapping an arm around your side. He looked at you as if for confirmation that this is what you wanted and you nodded. He kissed you softly. 

     You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned your head on his shoulder gently.

     “I’m not hurting you am, I?” You asked.

     “I’ve never felt better.” He mumbled contently. You closed your eyes, enjoying being this close to Remus—closer than you’d felt in months—in a year, even. He was silent for a moment, and then, “I love you, (Y/n).”

     “I love you too, Remus.” 

     And within moments, you were asleep, feeling so content and warm in Remus’s arms, your legs moved so now they lay on top of his. He looked down at you, not wanting to let you out of his sight, until he too was overcome with tiredness and drifted into the most peaceful sleep he’d had in years as he laid his head atop yours. 

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ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you guys enjoyed this! i love remus so much and i have been wanting to write this for a while. let me know if you want me to write for any other harry potter characters and have a lovely day/night <3💋🎀

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #harry potter #sirius black #peter pettigrew #james potter #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #x y/n #oneshot

[ryuichirou]

Replies

More replies about the girlies…! And about the Leech parents.

Anonymous asked:

So it’s from AA cup to F cup?

Judging by how they ended up looking, I guess it’s from AAA to FF lol

I am kind of bad at cup sizes though, and also bad at consistency, but at least that was the idea!

Anonymous asked:

How big are the cup sizes of the other genderswapped twst characters (I.e. the staff, Neige, Chenya, Rollo)

I actually talked about their cup sizes as well as what type of bra they would wear in this reply!

But to update: now I think that Crewel is an A and Trein is a C. I don’t know, just feel like it, maybe it’s because of Cruella and Lady Tremaine lol

Also here are those who I didn’t mention: Vargas is easily the biggest one out of the staff, so around D (+wears a sports bra, naturally); Sam isn’t big, somewhere between A and B, and doesn’t usually wear a bra; Crowley is a C… she just is. I can’t really explain any of this lol  

Anonymous asked:

Why does it look like fem Ace and Deuce are scissoring each other?

They always are…constantly…even though they’re bad at it…

They aren’t on this sketch though, but maybe Ace suggested it, that would explain Deuce’s reaction lol

Anonymous asked:

When you’re so thirsty, you grabbing your own boob *eyeballs floyd* On a serious note, I can’t get over how well you draw breasts. I get mad just drawing them under clothes 😔

Yeah, Floyd is probably the one to do that all the time without even thinking about it. She likes to squeeze lol

Also, thank you very much, Anon! I don’t draw them very often, so I am very happy to hear that you like how they look. Looking at tons of pictures and art (R18 obviously included hehe) and sketching helped me a lot…

Anonymous asked:

women...... you draw them so fine omfg

Thank youuuu 🥰 I love them

Anonymous asked:

I love the size, shape, and little difference between each woman. Not only in the pretty 👀 but in body shape and hair situation as well. Thank you for sharing such a beautiful (and dangerous) garden!

Thank you so much, Anon!

I am very excited to share, I’ve been thinking about them for so long before actually finally drawing them all… so it means a lot to hear that you like them <3

Anonymous asked:

was looking back through my liked posts and I saw your drawings of meleanor, and of some of the other twst extras, and it made me curious since now that book 7 is coming out in english will you be drawing more or the new characters like prince Levan, or the knight of dawns? Also a bit of a self-indulgent ask because I want to see sebeks hot ass grandfather in your artstyle :>

We don’t play the game, Anon, so the EN release doesn’t really concern us; we haven’t watched book 7 yet at all.

But when we do, I’m pretty sure I will draw at least some of the characters from it! Definitely more Meleanor and definitely Sebek’s grandpa because how fucking dares he be voiced by Koyasu of all people. I kind of wanted to draw him even before that point (just like Meleanor, I couldn’t resist, to be honest lol), but didn’t really have time for him…

Anonymous asked:

do you have any more leech parents thoughts or possible scenarios?

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Anonymous asked:

I like to think that papa Leech would also be quite happy with Vil, even though admittedly this is based entirely on a headcanon. Since the boys found out in a vignette that one of his favorite movies has Eric Venue starring in it, I like the idea that papa Leech became a big fan of him. I guess this means that more than liking Vil himself (although he is very charming in his own right), he would like the chance to get closer to his favorite actor through their kids relationship

To the first Anon, I’m sorry for the late reply, I’ll share more thoughts in a moment. Starting with the Vil scenario!

I agree with you, second Anon! We talked about it in this reply, but very briefly.

Whether it’s Jade or Floyd who brings Vil to their house, Papa Leech is going to be super excited because he’d recognise the boy instantly. Somehow, their dinner with the Leech parents would end up looking more like a handshake event lol With Papa Leech asking a lot of questions about Eric and stuff. Even if Vil isn’t dating any of his sons, just the fact that he is their senpai would make Papa Leech super excited. Mama Leech would probably apologise for his behavior, but not in a genuine way, but just to make the situation even more awkward for Vil. Thank god Vil knows how to handle it… probably… maybe…

Vil would also make such a pretty betta merman…

But ALSO!!! If Floyd or Jade (or both) bring Idia to meet their parents, Idia would be absolutely terrified; he would be terrified either way, but the Leech parents are especially intimidating and scary. But they would love him a lot! Not only because he is the Shroud’s oldest boy (connections are important), but because of how his demeanor and his frankly exciting sparkly look. They would stare at him without blinking, showering him with attention. And they would tease him a lot, maybe even more that they would tease Riddle. Because Riddle is just an overly serious baby, but Idia? He is so visibly uncomfortable and scared; teasing him is absolutely priceless. Papa Leech would sit very close to him and look very intimidating, maybe touch his hair, ask him what he is so scared of. Ask about which one of their sons Idia likes the most (neither… please let him go…), a lot of other questions that sound like “there is no correct answer, you are screwed either way, but I am having fun, so you’ll at least survive maybe”. And then Mama Leech would tell Papa Leech not to freak out this poor boy, start stroking Idia’s hand, talk to him in a sweet motherly tone that doesn’t sound even remotely comforting. Somehow… these two are even worse than Jade and Floyd…

A couple of very short HCs!

Mama Leech is a huge gossip. She knows everything about everyone.

Mama Leech doesn’t cook, but it’s a secret, because she wants to keep the image of a perfect traditional wife.

Papa Leech used to operate on land too when he was younger. He still does sometimes, but very rarely.

Papa Leech thinks Azul is a great influence on his boys and wants them to learn everything they could from this friendship before getting rid of him (if he stops being such a great influence).

While the family bond is strong, the entire Leech family is aware that one of them might betray the rest at any given moment. That doesn’t mean that they don’t cherish family tradition and history.

#replies #headcanons