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dooberific · 6 months ago

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❝ 𝘏𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘴 ❞

lighter lorenz x afab!reader

genre: slice of life

summary: your most consistent “customer” always ends up crawling back to you

wc: 2k

“I should charge you extra for this, Lorenz,” you drawled, popping the screen door open with your hip as you walked back out onto the porch, a pair of scissors twirling on your finger. With practiced ease you snapped them into your hand, pointing the sharp tip in his direction.

“I don’t take well to traitors.”

You could see his eyebrows raise behind his sunglasses, a low whistle passing his lips.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time, boss.”

“You better, I’m not one to give chances freely.” You teased before nodding your head towards the steps of your porch.

“Now take a seat, scruffy, we’ll see if we can’t make a Champion out of you yet.”

You grinned as he plopped dutifully down on your porch steps, long legs stretching out comfortably as he leaned back on his elbows. His head lolled back in your direction, vibrant shades of teal green twinkling over the gold rim of his glasses as he grinned in the same boyish, lopsided fashion you had grown to expect of him.

“That’s a big claim to make, saying you can make someone a champion with a pair of scissors.”

Your eyes rolled as you sat criss crossed behind him, plucking the sunglasses off his face before sliding them onto your head, watching the sharp recoil of his features when the burning orange glow of the setting sun assaulted his uncovered eyes. You pinched his bangs between your fingers, spreading the strands between the pads of your thumb and index before allowing them to feather back against his forehead.

“Well it’s certainly easier to win when you can actually see.”

He righted his head with a conceding sigh. “You’ve got me there.”

Your hands carded through his hair, thick waves of dark green-teal sliding between your fingers. It made you a bit angry that he had achieved an envious degree of volume and softness that a woman would kill for knowing that he was probably still using some 14-in-1 product that could strip grease off a floor, wash dishes, and his hair with the same bottle. Perhaps it was your sign that genetics could flourish under any circumstances, and that Lighter was simply god’s favorite delinquent.

“A barber with a waitlist, huh?” You mused, drawing a strand of his hair taunt between two fingers. The scissor blades shined like gold in the dying light, severing any split ends as you trimmed a few millimeters off.

“The city sure is a unique place.”

He hummed. “It’s not all bad, I guess.”

Part of you was inclined to disagree with him. You weren’t particularly fond of the city in any regard except for the variety in products offered. It was too noisy, too busy, too much stress over even the simplest of things.

It was a far cry from where you sat now, the evening sun warming your skin as the desert air of the Outer Ring carried the dry scents of sage and willow to your lungs, the landscape doused in a golden glow that stained the earthy reds of the stone in vibrant hues. The whistles of distant warblers and the rumble of engines zipping down the highways, the rustling of the tumbleweeds rolling over the packed earth, the gentle snipping of the scissors in your hands as stray hairs broke loose under the sharpened blades.

A melody of a deserted land that seemed so foreign and rogue to most evoked nothing but an easy sense of homely comfort. One that bathed the simplicity of your task in a halo of nostalgia, the texture of the porch under your legs, your chipped nail polish undercut with rich hues of raven green, the comfortable silence that filled the air reserved for close relationships.

Your nails tickled, featherlight touches brushing over the shell of his ear. He shuddered, goosebumps rising harshly on his skin under his jacket.

You dusted the stray hairs off his shoulders as you stood with a small groan, the grooves of the porch tattooing your legs with the texture of the worn wood. “Alright, I’m done.”

You pocketed your scissors, jerking a thumb towards the screen door. “Come in and wash up, can’t have you itching on the ride home.”

You held the door, propped against it as you watched him shed his jacket, shamelessly enjoying the tight planes of his muscles shifting under his t-shirt as he tossed his jacket over the porch rail, chased by the vibrant red of his scarf.

“You should be careful making offers like that,” He said as he sauntered past you, plucking his glasses off the top of your head. “You never know what kind of unsavory folks could wander out of the desert.”

You raised a brow in playful disbelief. “Maybe you should be careful accepting invitations to shower at strange women’s houses,” you countered as the door slammed loudly in its casing, though if it was the sound or the sharp way your hand connected with his ass that made him jump you weren’t fully sure.

You shot him a wink as he whipped around. “You never know what kind of unsavory things they could want in exchange~”

To say you enjoyed any chance to tease the legendary red scarf of the Sons of Calydon would be a massive understatement. It had always been that way, even from the first time Big Daddy showed up on your doorstep with him and asked you to whip him into shape.

He was thinner, hair shaggy and skin littered in bruises that stained it shades of red, purple and yellow. He didn’t talk at all then, shoulders hunched forward as you trimmed away months of disrepair, gave him a proper shave and shower and sent him off after a warm meal. It was purely transactional if not somewhat born from the pity that stirred in your gut at the hollow, glazed look in his eyes that lingered for months on end.

He would come back every few months for the same thing until his head stood a little taller, shoulders prouder, a healthy tan kissing his skin alongside the occasional bump or bruise brought on by one of his scrapes as new champion for the Sons of Calydon.

Conversation flowed a little more freely and lightly, the atmosphere of your simple home a backdrop for peaceful evenings even when your scissors weren’t needed, one of warm blankets draped over your bare legs as you sat on the porch swing, hot tea warming a ceramic glass between your chilled fingers as the cries of coyotes mingled with the deep purple sky, nothing but the stars as their witness.

Lighter still dutifully sat on the top step, boots thumping against the wood in tune with the crackle of the radio that whispered in from your kitchen where you left it running. You’d tease him about the girls in Blazewood or whatever pretty little number you had witnessed walk up to him on the street until his ears would stain with a hearty red flush, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he refuted your words and attempted to redirect the conversation.

If he really hated the teasing talks as much as he claimed you were confident he wouldn’t keep showing up with a case of Nitrofuel asking if you were free for the evening.

You placed a couple bowls on the table, the heat off the contents curling pleasantly under the yellowed bulb of the dining room light as you heard the shower shut off.

“Feeling like a new man yet?” You called through the door as you dropped some silverware in the bowls.

“It’s hard to beat a fresh cut.” He replied as the door to the bathroom swung open, his hair falling limply over his forehead still damp from the shower. Give it another few minutes to air dry and it would surely begin to curl and bounce back to life.

“I’d like to see one of those fancy city barbers have better customer service!” You stated matter of factly, waltzing up to lean on the doorframe, the light dancing over the apples of your cheeks as the floral scent of your Carlishe shampoo met your nose. The girls would give him a fit over it later to be sure.

He’s smiling at your small talk, a hand rubbing the line of his jaw thoughtfully as he squinted at his reflection in the mirror.

“You still keep those extra razors?”

You snorted. “Of course, how else can I service all the scruffy vagrants that wander through my door?”

You vanished from the doorway for a moment, and he could hear your feet thumping across the hardwood floor as you came and went, your face mischievous as you shouldered into the little bathroom with him and hopped up on the sink counter.

You brandished the single bladed razor with smug pride, a finger rising to crook in his direction as your lips curled invitingly. “Come here, Mr. Lorenz, and let me finish you off in a proper fashion.”

He was like putty in your hands and he stepped closer, hands braced on the sink at your side as your own hand came up to trace the curve of his jaw. It felt like old times, you mused to yourself, painting a thin layer of shaving cream against his skin. You used to do it all the time, though it was a bit more challenging when his skin was tender from the bruises that blossomed beneath the surface.

He didn’t hold eye contact with you then like he does now, vibrant hues of green smoldering under thick lashes trained on the curve of your lips, the delicate way your teeth teased the lower in concentration as you glided the blade across his skin with a skilled hand.

The scent of the spice in the shaving cream tickling your nose as it mingled with the florals of the shampoo, his breath warm as it fanned over your cheeks.

“If you keep staring like that,” you tapped the razor off in the sink, running the blade under the water as you turned back and met his gaze head on.

“I might think you like me a little more than just as your barber.”

“And what if I said I did?”

It came out in a breath, and you weren’t sure for a moment if it was accidental or intentional, some form of truth rolling in seas of green that you would never claim to be able to read. You stared at him for a long, silent moment, a challenge brewing on the tip of your tongue.

“You won’t.”

It was flat and to-the-point, a truth spoon fed by force down his throat like a bitter medicine to an unruly child. You placed the razor neatly on the side of the sink.

“You’re not brazen enough to jump into something without hesitation,” you elaborated, a hand rising to brush loose hairs behind your ear as you met his gaze once more. “And I think you value me too much as a friend to act carelessly.”

He huffed, fingers tapping on the countertop. “You say that like you’re confident that you know me or something.”

Your shoulders shrugged. “Not like you’ve been much of a stranger in the past.”

He couldn’t challenge you there if he tried, his very presence in your home right now a glaring reminder that the two of you had never been fully unfamiliar, always toeing some invisible line between friends and something a little past that. Maybe it did give him pause to think of upsetting the delicate balance of the game you seemed perpetually locked in.

You slipped off the counter, sliding past him without a word. You were like sand filtering between his fingers, there one moment and gone just as quickly if his grip relinquished even for a moment.

“I don’t mind waiting, I consider myself a rather patient person.” You spoke, your back turned to him as you plucked one of the bowls off the table. You spooned a helping into your mouth, humming thoughtfully as you turned, waggling your empty utensil at him.

“Jus’ be a good boy and don’t go cheating on me with another barber in the meantime.”

His grin was as crooked as ever.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Rey 2025

#zenless zone zero #zzz #zzz x reader #lighter zenless zone zero #lighter lorenz #zzz lighter #lighter zzz #lighter x reader

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strawberrykidneystone · 8 months ago

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tonight

sevika x female reader

summary: after a long day, there is nothing like plopping down on the lap of your scary girlfriend

a/n: save me sevika…. SEASON 2 IS SO CLOSE AHHHH

tags: 2nd person, fluff, alcohol, smoking, gambling, poker

ao3 version

after a long day of haggling with customers and delivering orders from your mechanic shop, The Rusty Nail, you needed a break. thankfully, one of Sevika's goons scurried in during the day to drop off a handwritten note from her:

The Last Drop tonight. Stop trying to pay for your own drinks.

-Sev

the note was written on a rough piece of scrap paper and it looked like there was a small heart that was drawn next to her name that had been haphazardly erased, which made you giggle. gently putting the note in a shoe box behind the counter that you kept all of her previous notes in as well, suddenly the day went by much faster with something to look forward to.

trudging into the tavern, you quickly walked over to the wooden bar and leaned your forearms onto the counter. you held up a hand to the bartender and they nodded, knowing your usual without you having to say it. while you didn’t frequent The Last Drop very often, they definitely saw your girlfriend often enough to make note of your order.

and of course, your drinks always went onto sevika’s tab no matter your pushback. oh well, the cost of your drink was quickly stuffed into the tip jar as appreciation.

your drink was set in front of you onto a napkin with a straw stabbed into the ice with a gruffness that was familiar in the undercity. you felt a pair of eyes searing into your back, feeling your girlfriend’s impatience from a mile away.

grabbing the drink and taking a quick sip, you strode over to the dark corner of the bar. like a beacon calling to you, there sat sevika slouched back in her usual creaky chair with a half-way burnt down cigar hanging out of her mouth, telling you how long she’d already been here. she was manspreading and glanced at her cards every so often, an unbothered aura surrounding her even though you knew that she clocked you the moment you stepped inside of the bar.

she had a tell playing cards that you’re pretty sure that only you had noticed. her right eyebrow quirked ever so slightly when she glanced at her cards, you would miss it if you blinked or didn’t know exactly what you were looking for.

that’s why you usually win at cards with sevika.

that and sevika liked letting you win.

the only person that she would let win against her.

you slipped your way through the crowd, keeping a tight hand over the top of your drink as you pushed through the maze of people. sneaking your way over in a very cat-like fluid motion, you stood in between sevika’s legs before perching on her left inner thigh.

sevika’s mechanical arm automatically wrapped around your waist and pulled you further up her thigh, close enough that the side of your torso was touching her chest. you wiggled your hips to adjust properly onto her leg, receiving a warning side-eye from your lover to behave. you leaned forward and checked the cards in her right hand, a perfect royal flush. she squared up her cards and stuck them down the front of your shirt, earning an annoyed look from you. she had a habit of sticking her cards somewhere inside of your clothing, insisting on having her hands free when you came over. it was a pretty full table, so it would be a while until her call anyway.

you set your drink on the floor slightly underneath her chair and leaned into her, resting your head on her metal shoulder. the cool bronze was a welcomed relief from the general body heat that was slightly stuffing up the bar. she ran her hand down your waist and squeezed the squishy flesh of your hip, the pointed tips of her fingers tickling your side.

you ran your hand over her mechanical arm, feeling the tactile textures for any imperfections or places that needed some TLC. finding none, you raked your eyes over her body to look for any new injuries from her own day of work. satisfied that she was completely fine, you pecked her cheek before settling back into her. she hummed in appreciation and reached her mechanical arm down, bringing up her cloak from freely hanging down from her shoulder to resting around your shoulders.

plucking the cigar out of the corner of her mouth, she stubbed out the lit end. you told her that you didn't mind her smoking even when you first met her, yet she still insisted on not smoking around you even as other patrons in the bar created a haze with their own smoking. the scent of nicotine reminded you of her and god she looked hot when she smoked. the two exceptions she made to this "rule" were when you begged her enough to shotgun into your mouth or after a particularly long love-making session, she would lean back against the headboard with one hand resting behind her head, a cigarette in her free hand and you tucked into her side.

one of the new faces at the table laid all of his cards on the table with a grin. the whole table leaned forward to see his hand, it was a perfect flush. sevika smirked and nodded to you, giving a playful tap to your hip. you dug her cards out of your shirt, flourishly sliding the cards on the table one on one. a collective groan came from the table as sevika barked out in laughter, the winning pot of coins being pushed towards her. she cupped your face with one hand and squeezed to make you pucker your lips and roughly pressed her lips to yours in a searing kiss. wrapping your arms around her neck and pushing yourself completely flush against her, chest to chest as you got lost in the kiss, your lips dancing in perfect rhythm.

parting from the kiss, she pressed the tip of her curved nose against yours and made deep eye contact with you, savoring the moment of winning with her favorite girl at her side, her gaze giving you butterflies in your stomach.

"c'mon baby, let's go home," she murmured and landed a playful smack on your ass, earning a squeak of shock from you. she held out her flesh hand to help you up, which you happily took and stood with her clock still hugging your shoulders. she stood up with a grunt and grabbed the bag of coins off of the table, tucking it into her side. she curled her around your waist and walked with you out of the bar and into the cool night with her winnings and the love of her life.

a/n: uppercase letters??? in my fanfic??? who am i

#sevika #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #arcane #arcane fan fiction #ao3 #strawberrykidneystone writes #strawberrykidneystone #sevika x reader #reader x sevika #sevika x female reader #sevika x fem!reader #arcane ao3 #sevika fluff

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michanvalentine · 4 days ago

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I was just thinking—for fun—about how I picture Astarion’s radiant hopeful ending after the six-month celebration following the events of Baldur’s Gate 3. Sometimes you come across such absurd takes that you just go “meh,” honestly. Like, him living in the sewers, lol—why, exactly? Or him setting himself on fire the moment Tav/Durge passes away, because let’s face it, our character is apparently the only valid reason for this poor little vampy-boy’s existence (level 12 adventurer and hero who defeated the Netherbrain, sure).

Naturally, I’m focusing on the single ending—not because I don’t enjoy the romance, but because it sparks my imagination more.

I picture this vampire spawn with his small, well-kept apartment in Baldur’s Gate. A ground floor with a cozy sitting room, a hearth, and lovely wide windows letting in the light of lanterns and the chatter of the city’s nightlife. A staircase leads down to the bedroom and bath in the basement—safety first, of course, since sunlight isn’t ideal during naps. Two kinds of curtains hang from the top of the windows: a lighter, hand-embroidered one made by him, and a heavier, darker one to block out the sun.

Near the hearth is a little sewing corner and a mannequin proudly displaying his latest tailoring projects. At the foot of the small workspace sits a basket filled with spools of thread and fabric samples. On the table: patterns, needles, scissors, thimbles, and everything else he needs to work. There are always flowers on the mantel and the table—some brought straight from Shadowheart’s meadow. He wrinkles his nose, but keeps them anyway; he likes remembering how vibrant their colors are.

On the other side of the hearth is a small bookcase and an armchair full of pillows. There’s a brightly colored fuzzy throw he enjoys for the texture. That’s where he relaxes alone when he has time to read something interesting. Gale makes sure to bring him a new tome every month. There’s a stack of boring books on the floor—those come straight from Waterdeep and he can’t bring himself to throw them away. The good ones are neatly shelved, except for the one he’s currently reading, which rests on the armrest, waiting to be picked up again.

Nearby is a three-legged wooden stool, carved with floral patterns—useful for sitting by the fire or as a footrest. Halsin gifted it to him. The sideboard is well-stocked with plates, glasses, tablecloths, pots, cutlery, and all kinds of utensils. Not just any kind—he likes them refined, even if he doesn’t use them. Gotta impress the guests! And even though he doesn’t eat human food, there’s always bread and cheese on the kitchen counter. Sausages hang from the hooks. One drawer hides rigged cards and dice—only he knows how to make them work.

Next to the sideboard is a small rack for vintage bottles. Only the finest wines (many stolen) in House Ancunin! Guests are few and carefully selected from his inner circle. He values privacy and discretion, especially with those he doesn’t fully trust. He has standards! Lol. That’s why he’s rigged some traps at the entrance. Trust is good, but caution is better—especially when he’s away or asleep downstairs.

The bedroom features a luxurious canopy bed—probably the most expensive item in the house—draped with rich fabric all the way to the floor. Pillows everywhere, in every color and shape. He usually sleeps naked, in black silk sheets. The wardrobe is filled with outfits for every occasion. Many he made himself, some were custom-made by Figaro when he wanted to treat himself, and some he just flat-out stole from rich bastards. Astarion Ancunin is a fashion icon, after all.

Naturally, there are also simpler, comfortable clothes suited to his work. At the foot of the bed is a magically trapped and locked chest (crafted by Gale just for him), where he keeps gold and rare or magical items looted from evil rich folk—who didn’t deserve them anyway. He’ll put them to good use… more or less. One day, that chest will also contain the amulet or cloak that lets him walk in the sun again—he and his old adventuring party are still working on it.

In one corner of the room is a tall mirror with a refined frame. He likes it as a decorative piece—but hey, with the right company in bed, it can always come in handy! Lol. In the other corner is a battered dartboard with at least two daggers stuck in it. Mounted on the wall is a rack of weapons. A pair of curved daggers were gifts from Avernus, courtesy of Karlach and Wyll. A dagger with a Spartan hilt came from another plane, sent by Lae’zel. He doesn’t like it, but he trusts her taste when it comes to efficiency and effectiveness.

The bathroom is, of course, well-equipped: a full tub (not connected to plumbing), with a stack of soft, fragrant towels beside it, and a rug he enjoys stepping on when entering or exiting the bath. There’s a carved floral stool there too—another gift from Halsin. A couple of shelves display his beloved collection of oils and soaps. Also proudly displayed: a set of brushes for every need, because we know how meticulous he is about his hair.

His work as a vigilante (or paid assassin) is slowly paying off, thanks to word of mouth. His clientele includes people from all social classes. Rarely, but when he feels personally involved, he’s accepted jobs in exchange for goods (that he doesn’t eat). Once, a woman abused by her so-called rich lover gave him a chicken as payment. He cursed every god, then accepted, warning her not to tell anyone. He then gave the chicken to the orphan kids who plague his soul begging him to mentor them—just because he once gave them tips on how to properly pickpocket rich fools. Especially foreign merchants with heavy coin purses.

Since then, the brats look up to him and beg for adventurous stories, dreaming of becoming like him. He treats them with disdain, but he secretly loves seeing those little misfits seek his attention and try to apply what he teaches (with hilariously poor results). Not before being begged with: “Pleeeease, Mister Astarion!”

In the colder seasons, when the sun sets early, business picks up—he has more time to be active. He also has more time for the Elfsong when he’s in the mood for fun. Everyone knows him there—he’s the life of the party. Cards, dice, gossip (while gathering intel), flirting just for fun, and sometimes... upstairs shenanigans. All on his terms, of course.

Few people know the real him, and for now, that’s fine. Not everyone can be among the privileged few with access to his home, his life, his intimacy. Alfira, who often performs there, knows and accepts this. Same for his friend Lakrissa.

Once, he saved Chef Roover from a drunk, ill-intentioned outsider by draining him dry. Roover raised an eyebrow and ordered him to help mop up the piss (the guy had wet himself in fear). After that and a few explanations, Alan Alyth tried to hire Astarion as a bouncer. He agreed to “make troublemakers disappear”—nothing more—in exchange for unrestricted access to the tavern’s lower floors for his business.

Now Astarion has taken over the old Emperor’s chambers, giving them a new purpose. Still under renovation, but clients can drop by the bartender, say the code word, and be sent downstairs... Astarion has big plans for himself and his enterprise. Maybe someday he’ll add a small hedonistic lounge to share with friends who enjoy the same bloody pleasures. In moderation, of course. After all, it’s nice to inspire hope in people, not just fear, right?

And then there’s Jaheira, who drops by nearly every day under the pretense of helping with renovations, delivering materials, or suggesting more “reasonable” interior design. Really, she just wants to play mama wolf and make sure he stays out of trouble, while slipping him extra gigs on behalf of the Harpers or the Flaming Fists. At least she doesn’t nag at his house—and tries to keep Minsc out of it—but Astarion knows it’s just a matter of time before the ranger shows up in his kitchen out of nowhere, bloody, half-dressed, and with a dumb story about how he got there.

And of course, there are the Gur, who frequently seek his advice about vampire spawn kids or local monsters. If they can offload more work onto him, all the better! At least they’ve stopped hunting him, and sometimes they even help lighten the weight of vampirism. He’d never admit it, but a lot of them are actually fun—and nearly as good at cheating at dice as he is. Once, they held a kind of tournament where he almost lost. Damn cutthroat vagabonds!

So yeah, just a little headcanon about poor, helpless, useless Spawn Astarion, who supposedly can’t survive a day without Tav/Durge. xP

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #spawn astarion #headcanons

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littlemssam · 4 months ago

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Mod Updates & Translations

As always delete old Mods Files and the localthumbcache, when updating my Mods!

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Choose Painting Style (Texture) Added French by MOLLORY, Russian by wild_guy, and Chinese by Licer.

Dress Code | Custom Lot Traits Added Japanese by Licer.

Force to Leave | New Door Interaction Added Support for new Employees from Businesses & Hobbies Pack.

Improved Drink Trays Update of French by MOLLORY, and update of Chinese by Licer.

Live In Business Added Support for Pottery Items. Set to Sell should not show up on Objects like StandMixer etc.

Live In Services Update of Chinese by Licer.

More Away Actions Added new Pottery & Tattooing Skills.

Online Learning System Added new Pottery & Tattooing Skills.

Riding Companion Dog Update of Chinese by Licer.

Spend Weekend With Added Japanese by Licer.

Transfer Inventory Update of Chinese by Licer.

Ultrasound Scan Added Object SimData since Object Tuning now have them.

Unlock/Lock Doors for chosen Sims Added Support for new Employees from Businesses & Hobbies Pack. Update of Russian by Rick.

RSM - Purchased Items delievered via Mail Added Support for new Businesses & Hobbies Books.

RSM (Horse Ranch) - Better Saddle Control Added Chinese & Japanese by Licer.

RSM (Horse Ranch) - Buy Horse Treats via PC Added Chinese by Licer.

RSM (Horse Ranch) - Lead Horse Added Chinese & Japanese by Licer.

Other Mods - ATM Cards and Credit Function! Added Object SimData since Object Tuning now have them. Renamed Mod and Addon is obsolete now, pls remove the File "LittleMsSam_Updated_Zooroo_ATM!_Addon_NonCoolKitchenFix".

---

My Site with all possible Download Links: lms-mods.com

Support Questions via Discord only please!

#littlemssam #sims 4 mods #updates #translations

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akshayaquapri · 4 months ago

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pforestsims · 1 year ago

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Lo and behold, the amazing @episims has made "It's Myshuno" into a functional thing! I had no furniture appropriate for bingo halls so I decided to make some. I also gave Myshuno cube & marker a makeover and Epi has created multicolor mod for those, so when Sim starts playing, one of four color options is picked at random 😀

Bingo Hall Set

& Myshuno Cube & Marker Default / Multicolor Mod

Download: SFS | BOX

*Bar dining table requires bar table mod by @morepopcorn that allows placing bar stools at bar tables (with custom BHAV also by Morepopcorn) - mod is included.

*I recommend my default for Myshuno, you can find it here. Last but not least, you need Epi's Myshuno fix (SFS).

More pics under the cut:

*This is for The Sims 2

Archive was updated 20.06.2024:

- Added 'Bingo Hall Speaker' (decor) Hobbies/Misc, 8 S.

- Lowered the Bingo Hall Coffee Table surface a little bit, so it's now compatible with diningtable-height OMSP (it was almost compatible but object shadows would sink into the top).

- Edited TXMT settings for decorative score cards so these are less bright.

Bingo Hall Chair (livingroom chair) seat is repo'd to Ektorp sofa. I also included a base game-friendly edit that pulls recolors from Satinistic Loveseat - these are two versions of the same chair and cannot be used together. Frame has 5 different looks - left wall mount, right wall mount, left & right extended frame - all in one mesh. That's why each recolor package contains multiple recolors.

Place the chair near a wall (right or left side), then enable setquartertileplacement On cheat to add another chair close to the first one (upper right pic). Sims are able to move between these chairs /and also between chair and wall.

Included coffee table is in fact 1x1, bar dining table is 1x2 - you can place these with shorter or longer side facing the wall - only front side of the dining bar table is functional though (as shown in the pic below).

Use setquartertileplacement On cheat (CTRL + F activates it) to align wall-mounted dining table with the wall /Coffee table is different size and cannot be aligned this way/.

Polycounts:

Cube & Marker default: cube 272 poly, marker 176 poly, 128x128 px textures. Multicolor mod contains 8 textures, there's also a 'standard' default containing two textures.

Chair is 830 poly, Tables are below 600 poly, decorative score card is below 500 poly. Textures 256 x 256 px.

New - Bingo Hall Speaker /or whatever this thing is called/ pulls textures from basegame Club Distress Avignon table and Value Counter. Polycount: 382.

#sims 2 #the sims 2 #ts2 defaults #buymode #ts2 decor #ts2 cc

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quapriprinting · 2 days ago

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verbrannt74 · 5 months ago

Text

Time for something new! - or old, since here could be your wolf character in retro games' style, low-poly and with pixelated texture.

🐺 Multi-slot (3 slots) YCH – 3D low-poly wolf character model

🔸 Price per slot: 50$

🔸READ THE INFO BELOW BEFORE CLAIM! ⏬⏬⏬

No additional accessories or extra parts (wings, horns, tufts, etc.)

Non-symmetrical coloring is okay

Minor model adjustments are possible (like body thickness, cheeks shape, tail length)

Fine details may be simplified or lost due to the low texture resolution

If you're unsure whether your character fits, please ask before claiming a slot!

🔸 What you get:

poses list (see the 2nd image)

38 static renders

3 turnaround animations (mp4 & transparent gifs) ⏩[look at them!]⏪

.blend files included (you should have a PC & Blender 3.6+ to open them)

10 static poses

256x256 px texture (I'll colour the original grayscale base)

.txt file with simply guide

***

🔸 Model usage rules

Allowed Uses

You may use the model for personal projects, renders, animations and non-commercial purposes*

You may modify the textures and rigging for customization (please don’t heavily redesign the model into something unrecognizable)

You may showcase renders of the model in your portfolio, social media, or online galleries (crediting me optional but appreciated)

Prohibited Uses

Do not resell, trade, or share the .blend files or textures with others

Do not claim the original model as your own

Do not use the model for NFTs or AI training

Additional Terms

I keep the right to use the base model for my portfolio and other personal projects

I keep the right to use coloured base model for my portfolio

* Purchasing the YCH grants you a custom-colored version of the model, but not exclusive rights to the base mesh. Write me a note before claiming if you want to use it for commercial purposes.

🔸 By purchasing this model, you agree to these terms.

***

🔸 Payment within 48 hours after claiming. After payment I'll start the work & send the files to you after finishing.

I use folders on Google Drive.

🔸 Payment via PayPal this time!

(via my intermediary)

No refunds after receiving the files.

🔸 or via Hipolink

(using !bank cards)

No refunds after receiving the files.

170 notes · View notes

77gigabytes · 11 days ago

Text

Homesick {Sylus x Reader}

So... This one is a bit weird because it's technically x MC as well ( ‘◇’) because Y/N and MC are separate people. Anyway, just have a read lol. I hope you enjoy it either way ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And my fault for not properly reading the World Underneath stories, but I just found out that the twins were experiments and tried to assassinate Sylus ≧◡≦

-Seven

|| Masterlist ||

Was there really any point anymore?

"You don't understand, Y/N."

You loved Sylus you really did.

"MC... She makes me feel human."

But apparently, that couldn't compare to MC.

When he told you that MC had been his lover in his past life, and every other life, you didn't believe him.

"Sylus, surely, you can come up with a better excuse than that?" Was your first response after just having bared your feelings to him.

In such a vulnerable moment, surely, he wouldn't be so cruel as to play with your feelings like this, right?

"I appreciate the creativity, I do," you cradle your temples in one hand, "But all you had to say was that you don't like me back."

You really don't know what compelled you to confess in the first place.

You had been so content just being with Sylus, Mephisto and the twins - your little family.

It didn't feel like that at first.

After all, you were taught never to trust anyone in the N109 zone, but they picked you up off the street half dead and patched you back up.

And from then on, you never left.

So why did you have to confess...Now of all times?

Maybe it was some sort of possessiveness.

The more MC got closer to Sylus, to Mephisto, the twins... the more you felt like a tiger whose territory was being encroached upon.

She had your hackles raised and everything, and eventually, she pushed you into a corner with no escape other than to get devoured.

She walked straight past you and got so close in such a short time.

What made her so different? Because she was his lover in a past life?

Maybe you didn't understand after all

"Must you love her in this life as well?" You mumbled the words, but of course, Sylus heard them

He looked at you like you grew another head, like the idea of anything else was unfathomable.

You simply clicked your tongue and walked away.

Pursing such futility is madness.

❖· ────── · ·

Now at Onychinus' base, you realise just how much you've made this place your home.

As you're walking around the base, you pick up your throw blanket with little crows from the sofa; then the custom controller the twins got you from the games room. You've tucked your spare windbreaker from the coatroom over your arm. And in your drawer, you spot a piece of card paper - Sylus' birthday card.

One that you never gave him… because MC did it first. After all, she was the one who found out Sylus' actual birthday.

Although… You were more than content to celebrate it every day of April with the twins, but…

Anyway, you run your hand over the texture of the paper and tuck it back into the drawer.

You can leave this one behind. Maybe it'll reach it's rightful owner someday.

But… now, you've also realised just how much she's made this her home as well.

A mess of Pile It Up blocks here; a can of cat food for the stray cats there.

You shake your head and do one final walk around the base.

You come to a stop in front of Sylus' room.

With a deep sigh, you quickly place your belongings on a nearby table and open the door.

Just one more time… you say to yourself

Your eyes flit around the dark room. All black and red decor except… Colourful stuffies and meow badges lining his shelves.

You clench your hands and let out a shaky breath. You rush to leave the room pulling the door closed with a soft click.

Just as you're gathering your things, you hear voices from the hallway.

Your hand immediately goes to the holster on your waist.

"I told you so! The bossman was with miss hunter! Mephisto was there too, we didn’t need to worry."

Your body goes lax. It's just the twins.

"Oh hey! Y/N's here, Kieran."

Kieran comes from behind Luke after having locked the door, and you muster up the best smile you can.

"Hey." It comes out weaker than you'd like. Almost a whisper.

You clear your throat. They've got the worst timing, you think

"What's all this, sis?" Luke rhymes.

Kieran lets out a soft chuckle, "Yeah, you movin' out or something?"

You smile a little, just to ward away the tears that are building up in your eyes, "Yeah, I can't have all my stuff lying around." You lift your arms and motion to all your things, "The big boss scolded me last time, remember? Something about not leaving a trace, right?" You pretend to think and act like you hadn’t learnt your lesson, "Or was it just to keep the base tidy? Oh well."

Luke brings a hand up to his face and pretends to look around the place, "Hmm? I don’t know what you're talking about. I don’t see anything here. It’s squeaky clean."

You laugh and take a few steps to nudge him with your shoulder and he grins.

"Anyway, I can't stay for long," You say, "I just came to fetch these."

Their shoulders droop a little, "Aww."

You place your things back onto the table and open your arms to the boys.

Kieran comes first, "We just got here and you’re leaving already?”

“Yeah,” You say and squeeze your arms around him tighter, “I’m gonna go home.” You release him and move to Luke.

“But you are home,” Luke’s voice is muffled in your shoulder.

“My real home, dummy.” You release him and turn to your things, “I’m gonna sleep in my own bed for once, without having to hear the both of you yelling at video games.” You tease.

“You can’t even stay for a round of Interstellar Warfare? We want the spaceship upgrades to beat Boss.”

You shake your head as you gather your things, “Not even for a round, Luke, I’m sorry.”

When you turn around, they’re quiet… brooding little chicks; your little brothers.

“Oh,” You sigh and free up one of your arms, “I know, I know,” You coo, “Being away from your family - your big sister - will be too much.” you tease as you reach under Luke’s mask to pinch at his cheek.

He turns away with a “Tch.”

“We saw each other yesterday, and the day before! Why are you two pouting like this, hmm?” You ask

Maybe they felt that something was wrong. That something was changing. Maybe their hearts knew that they weren’t going to see you again after today.

But you’ve already made up your mind.

“Ok, I have to go.” You pat Kieran’s cheek over the mask, “Stay safe.”

You turn back to Luke, “And you,” you point to him, “Don’t cause too much trouble.” you pat his cheek too.

They just give you an exasperated sigh, but you can almost see their smiles behind the mask, “Of course, little boss.” They say in unison.

“Oh yeah, tell the big boss that I took that M-38 from the armoury, actually, wait, maybe don’t. He might get mad.” You wink and stick your tongue out.

They make a zipping motion above their mouths and you smile.

You walk towards the front door and they follow behind you like lost puppies. You never would have thought that they ever attempted to assassinate Sylus. It makes you chuckle at how close they’ve gotten.

As you exit, you turn around to say “Make sure you feed Mephisto all those nuts and bolts that mess up his gears!”

They smirk from the front door.

“I love you both!” You plop your things into the back seat and stick your head out, “Good bye…” you give them a soft wave and their smirks drop.

You just duck into your car and drive away.

Being away from your family really may be too much.

❖· ────── · ·

After that day, you took every effort to change your name, your appearance…everything. Not a single trace of who you were before.

I guess that’s one thing that you’ve learnt from Sylus.

You used to help track people down with him, having learnt and even executed each and every one of his methods yourself. So, fortunately, making a counter to them was easy.

Now days, you were living a quiet life tucked away in the country side with a big plot of land, a few animals and a garden.

But still, your heart wasn’t there.

Even with your new lover, something was missing.

…

Today, you’ve gone to visit the markets by the beach with your lover.

You’ve wandered off to look at the stalls while he stayed in line to order some food.

You didn’t have to worry about leaving him by himself. For once you were glad that you don’t have to constantly look over your shoulder.

You’ve done well to take that target off your back.

In the midst of it all, you’ve somehow wandered all the way to the seaside.

With the waves lapping at the shore; the sun high in the sky and the gulls calling from above.

It was a rare sight back in the N109 zone; Something as beautiful and serene as this.

But you’re glad… As much as you miss it, you’re glad.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, salty air meeting your senses.

You hear footfalls behind you…your lover, you think.

Although a little heavier than usual… must be the sand.

“You’re a hard one to find, kitten.”

Chills.

All the way down your spine.

Your body whips around - all the years of training still very much engrained in your body.

“How…”

Your eyes are wide as Sylus stands in front of you.

Your breath hitches in your throat and your heart’s racing out of your ribs.

Nonchalantly, he swipes a finger across his lips, “Well, You happened to keep all your pin codes and passwords with some variety of 0418 or 1804 - My birthday.”

You swallow thickly. Is this what it’s like to be on the other end of Sylus’ wrath?

But he’s right, most of your passwords were some variety of his birthday. Some stubborn part of you not wanting to let go of your past and now it’s come back to bite you.

But you didn’t want to forget him. Never.

“And,” he continues, “You also sold that M-38…” He takes a step towards you, “The only one in the world.”

You curse in your head and take a step back to keep your distance. Careless.

“I’ll have to give it to you, it still took me longer than I would have like to find you.” He hand reaches for your wrist, “Why did you do it?”

Snapping back to reality at his touch, you push him away, “It doesn’t matter.” You shake your head, “Go back to Linkon or Onichynus - wherever you’re staying these days.”

“The twins miss you.”

You freeze at his words.

You’re so selfish.

“Mephisto won’t stop plucking out his feathers.”

Hurting your family like this.

“Stop.” You mumble.

To Sylus or to yourself, you don’t quite know.

From a distance, you hear your fake name being called by your lover.

It pulls you out of your daze and you turn to his voice to rid your mind of Sylus.

Sylus doesn’t miss the way your eyes soften when they reach the man across the beach.

“Who might that be, sweetie?”

You turn back to him with a cold hard glare, “Like. I . Said.” You enunciate every word, “It doesn’t matter.” You push at Sylus’ arm, “Go back.”

“No, no.” Sylus chuckles,” I would like to meet him. Is this the man you’re working for now?”

“Sylus.” You bite out a warning.

He meets your hard gaze but then smirks smugly and begins to walk towards your lover.

“Sylus!” You call out, trying and failing to catch his arm.

His strides are much bigger than yours.

“Sylus! Stop!” You just barely catch the back of his coat and tug at it.

“I insist. He must be a impressive man for you to have left Onichynus.”

You rush to get in front of him, “Sylus, stop! Please!” your voice breaks as you hold your hands out to block him. “Please, just stop.”

Sylus falters as he sees your eyes glisten with tears. He merely looks at you and you take the opportunity to speak.

“I cut myself off from you… and the twins. From Onichynus for a reason.” Your chest heaves as you speak, “It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made in my life - To leave my family - my heart -behind.” The wind bites at your wet cheeks but you continue, “So please. Please, just let me live peacefully.”

Sylus is wide-eyed at your confession and at your tear-streaked face. Almost as much as he was when you confessed your feelings to him.

Your lover calls your name once more and he’s jogging towards the two of you after seeing the altercation from a distance.

You take quick steps away from Sylus, leaving him frozen in his spot.

It takes all of your willpower not to look back at Sylus. You have to remind yourself that you’re looking ahead. To your future in front of you. You can’t go back no matter how much your heart yearns to.

Your lover meets you halfway and wraps an arm around your shoulders, “Are you okay, pumpkin?”

You nod despite the tears and wrap your arm around his waist, “Yeah… Yeah, I will be.”

“Who was that?” He asks taking a quick glance back at Sylus.

“I don’t know.”

"He seems to know you.”

“I don’t know him anymore.”

“Okay, okay.” He yields,” Let’s get you home, darling.”

So... How are we feeling? \ (•◡•) /

Let me know what you thought about it, I've never really written one where MC and reader and separate people, but I like the overall idea so I thought I may as well write it haha ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-Seven

|| Masterlist ||

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hyorijie · 8 months ago

Note

Hi, I don't know if you're doing any requests at the moment, but if you are, can you do an Alastor x Reader where Reader and Alastor were Ex-lovers from their past life, and then they meet again, when Charlie decides to host a Halloween speed dating event, and the two are paired together?

I loved your request, I hope you like it. ♡

Between masks and shades

Alastor x Reader - Halloween date

Tags Ex-lovers, Speed dating, Halloween decorating, Awkward conversations, memories, masks, Alastor is not good with his feelings, resolutions, a bit of angst.

The darkest season of the year was beginning to make its way into the underworld. The air thick with malice, it seemed to tremble with anticipation, as if even in this corner a rare thrill was allowed with the arrival of Halloween.

Amidst the loosely controlled chaos, Charlie, Princess Morningstar, glimpsed a unique opportunity - what better time than Halloween to unite the hotel's inhabitants in something different? While convincing them would not be easy, she knew she could excite anyone with enough conviction.

So the idea was born; a Halloween party with a twist, something that would allow the damned souls, if only for one night, to rest in peace from their eternal woes. And its main attraction would be a "Speed Dating" event, an opportunity for ghouls, lost souls and other hotel tenants to establish a connection, a spark of humanity, or at least a fleeting distraction in the midst of purgatory.

Festive posters began to appear in every nook and cranny inside and outside the hotel, covered in cobwebs and smiling pumpkin drawings. They said in big, bold letters, "Find your soul mate! Halloween Speed Dating Event." You found yourself standing in front of one of those posters, looking at it with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. Since your arrival, fitting in had been a painful process.

This place, with its crushing atmosphere, seemed to mock your attempts to live in peace, leaving you mired in frustration. But above all, what kept a spark alive in your heart was the memory of someone special. A love lost in life, a face that kept appearing in your dreams, so clear you could almost feel its presence. That love, irreplaceable and taken away from you, was the only thing that still made you resist in the midst of the gloom. And without realizing how, you were already walking into the hotel lobby, the festive decorations absorbing you in their charm.

Pumpkins glowed with an orange glow, and autumn leaves seemed to float with a life of their own, giving the space an enchanted air. You had the feeling that the hotel itself was breathing. Suddenly, a floating tray glided towards you, with a decorated mask and next to it, a card, it looked like something custom-made. The startling glow called to you, and engraved in incandescent glare could be read, "To know true love, you must know the soul."

You took the mask, feeling the smooth texture under your fingers, and put it on, noticing how it fit your face perfectly, almost transforming who you were into someone else. It was then that a cheerful voice echoed through the room.

—Welcome! — A glowing figure at the front of the room exclaimed. It was Charlie, his hair contrasting dramatically against a golden mask and a red dress that seemed to glow with his enthusiasm. —Thank you all for participating in this event. The dynamic is simple; ten minutes per appointment. As the bell rings, they switch tables and continue to get to know each other.

Some residents looked around with the same mix of skepticism and curiosity as you, but Charlie's energy was contagious, filling the room with unusual anticipation.

The tables were arranged in small circles around the room, each decorated with candles, offering a warm ambiance in the midst of what for many was a rather uncomfortable gathering.

With the mask on your face and a slight tremor in your chest, you approached your first table. Your first encounter was with a demon with an arrogant bearing, who seemed in his element. He wore a flashy outfit, crossing one leg over the other as an arrogant smirk played across his lips.

— I suppose you've already noticed —he said, leaning towards you —that I'm not exactly the discreet type. Eternity is best enjoyed when you don't limit yourself.

He spoke of himself with a confidence that bordered on haughtiness, recounting his exploits with an almost disinterested looseness in your response. His eyes sparkled with a mischievousness that was intended to be seductive, but in reality only generated discomfort that bordered on displeasure. Nevertheless, you listened to him with a polite smile, but your mind was far away from there, wishing the minutes would run out.

This is definitely not my type. you thought.

Finally, the bell rang and you hurried to change tables, letting out a sigh of relief. In front of you, you found a petite, vibrant figure, whose single eye glittered with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Her voice was quick and high-pitched, almost a torrent of enthusiasm that seemed to overflow from her.

—This is kind of exciting! I can hardly wait to meet you! — she exclaimed, her words flowing with an energy that was hard to follow. — Did you know I love cleaning, I could spend hours organizing things and looking for bugs!

Her enthusiasm was so palpable that, while endearing, it began to overwhelm you. You struggled to keep up with her chatter, but each passing second increased your confusion, caught up in her maelstrom of words.

Despite your good intentions, every second of that conversation felt like a messy whirlwind of words and energy. The bell rang again, releasing you from that strange appointment, you felt an immediate indescribable relief. After just two encounters, you were exhausted and decided you needed a break.

The bustle of the tables, the hurried interactions, and the unusually lively tone of the event were beginning to wear on you. You got up from the table, sketching an apologetic smile, and slipped into the shadows of the lobby hoping to find the restroom or some secluded corner to regain your composure.

However, as you walked down a dimly lit hallway, something caught your eye. A slightly ajar door. Curiosity got the better of you and, without thinking too much, you pushed it, inside, a small room could be glimpsed. And right in the center of the room, a demon was sitting in a velvet armchair.

He held a newspaper and beside him rested a steaming cup of tea on a delicately carved small table. He was elegantly and neatly dressed, accentuated by the red of the dress. Instantly you knew who he was; infamous radio demon. He was such an enveloping and disturbing presence at the same time, he made the air in the room feel charged with a barely contained intensity.

He seemed oblivious to the bustle of the event in the hall, immersed in an absolute tranquility contrasting with the frenetic atmosphere of speed dating. He didn't look up when you walked in, so immersed in his reading or perhaps... as if he had been waiting.

—Well, well... you seem to have found something much more interesting than speed dating —commented a deep, resonant voice, full of strange musicality. He lowered the paper with a smile that had the clear purpose of disarming anyone who confronted him, a sly, calculated smile.

You felt the air in the room grow thicker. Alastor's calmness, his relaxed posture and his gaze that seemed to see beyond appearances, was disconcerting. There was something about his presence that not only unsettled, but created a kind of almost hypnotic fascination.

— I didn't expect to find something like this at the event...—You finally answered, your voice sounding more fragile than you would have liked.

Alastor tilted his head, studying you with a curiosity that was hard to decipher. His smile never disappeared, and there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. Though you had heard of Alastor and knew on good authority of his fearsome reputation, you were unprepared for the intensity of his presence in person. His look...everything about him projected a sweet, veiled menace beneath a layer of impeccable politeness.

All the rumors had not been exaggerated; he was absolutely dangerous. And yet, seeing him at that moment, wrapped in unnerving tranquility, made you feel captivated by the enigmatic atmosphere that surrounded him.

You noticed a soft melody, a jazz that seemed to emanate from the walls. The subtle melody, one that added an unexpected calmness to the space, as if this little corner was protected from the hustle and bustle. Your senses relaxed enough to make you forget, for a moment, where you really were.

Calmly, you decided to sit across from Alastor, in a delicate balance between curiosity and caution. It was then that you noticed that he was not wearing a mask, unlike the attendants, but in his case, he didn't need one. His very presence was shrouded in a mystery that not even a mask could intensify. Subtly, he finally slid the paper away, the amusement on his face was carved in an appraisal, a subtle communication of asking himself what to do with you.

— I don't remember seeing you anywhere, which makes me wonder...are you lost, my dear? — he uttered, his voice further emphasizing the resonance that achieved an electrifying static around him. It was a rich, melodious, enchanting voice.

Despite his question, you still felt you were in the speed dating frame, you forced a polite smile, trying to answer naturally.

—No, I'm not lost, I guess. I just took a break from the main room and, without realizing it, ended up here. I guess it's my turn... right?— You replied with slight doubt settling in your tone. Alastor, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow, amused at your response.

"Your turn?" he repeated, as if he found the very idea extremely hilarious. Curious, he thought, watching you with an intensity that made you feel naked.

—My dear —He continued, with that smile that now seemed to widen just a little more. —Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not part of that little speed dating show. I don't usually get involved in such... ephemeral activities. —His voice deepened as she uttered that last word, as if reminding him of how insignificant he found such events. Then he paused, allowing you to process his words.

— But I must admit, I was intrigued. How did you get here? —You looked at him carefully.

Now somewhat more alert, you looked at him intently. His every word, his every pause, seemed carefully chosen, like a game in which only he understood the rules. There was something about that controlled calm that you found disconcerting. Still, your polite nature held you steady.

— Well, I wasn't looking for anything in particular. I'm simply following my intuition, and that brought me here...— you said, with a studied but sincere naturalness.— And here we are.

Alastor let out a soft, resonant laugh, one that seemed to drift through the air like the jazz melody that filled the room, enveloping the words in a subtle undercurrent of irony.

— Oh, of course... here we are. — he repeated, settling back in his chair, his interest clearly piqued by your words. His eyes narrowed just slightly, flashing with that teasing sparkle as he continued, —So, what do you think of this evening? I should imagine you've had some... rather memorable encounters.— The mocking tone and innuendo in his voice brought to mind some of the more flamboyant characters you had met that night.

You thought of the arrogant demon and the chaotic Nifty, and a wry smile tugged at your lips.

—Memorable is a good way to describe it. —you admitted sincerely. — Although, to be honest, I'm not sure this kind of event is my thing.

Alastor watched you silently, with a look that, oddly enough, seemed to soften. There was something akin to approval in his eyes, as if your answer had fulfilled some unseen expectation.

—Wise choice,— he commented, leaning a little closer, letting a hint of satisfaction show in his tone. —The true meeting of souls rarely happens in ten minutes... and certainly not in a room full of masks.— Leaning forward, his gaze deepened, as if in that moment he could see beyond your words, into some corner of you that he was barely aware of having shown.

— I'm surprised, then, that you haven't run off yet.— he added, in a kind of subtle challenge that made you raise your chin in intrigue. You looked back at him, searching his expression for some clue beyond his words.

—And why haven't you? —you replied, returning his challenge with the same intensity.Alastor interlaced his fingers calmly, never taking his eyes from yours, as if analyzing every nuance in your expression before answering.

—Ah, my dear,— he replied at last, his voice dark and melodious.—I don't run away from anything. I simply observe, I enjoy myself... and, on occasion, I find something or someone worth a closer look.

Again, the silence became dense and palpable, but far from being uncomfortable, it felt like a space suspended in time, an intangible place where you both lingered in that delicate game of words and glances. The soft music seemed to dissipate, blurring reality and making you feel that, for the first time in the night, you were in front of someone -or something- that really captured your attention, daring you to stay, to discover what else was behind his invisible mask.

—So...— continued Alastor, leaning in a little closer, his eyes like dark mirrors in which you seemed to lose yourself, — What are you really looking for in this little game?

Under the spell of the soft music and the intensity Alastor exuded, you let the moment take hold of you. The atmosphere was a refuge amidst the chaos, a corner of introspection where, for an instant, the frenetic event around you ceased to exist.

You found yourself questioning what you were really looking for, a question so elementary and simple, but which at that very moment felt immense.Without knowing why, you caught yourself reflecting out loud. The words flowed as if they were waiting for that exact moment to be released, loaded with an almost painful honesty.

—I don't know...— you said, with a hesitation that was more real than you had felt in a long time, — I'm not here looking for someone, or love, if that's what you mean. — You hesitated for a second, but in the end you decided to lower your gaze, looking at the texture of the table as if in it you could find answers.— But something, I don't know what, brought me here.

The confession slipped from your lips like a whisper, a secret released as much to yourself as to him. It was a thought you had not articulated before, and as you said it aloud, you were overcome with a sense of relief, yet also uncertainty.

The silence that followed was so palpable that you could almost touch it, but in an unexpectedly comforting way. It was a dense silence, but far from being uncomfortable; it was the kind of pause that, far from filling you with words, seemed to invite you to immerse yourself even more in that unique and sincere exchange. In the semi-darkness, the light barely managed to bring out the gleam in Alastor's eyes, who did not look away from you.

His eyes watched you with an intensity that, for the first time, you did not perceive as a power play or a calculated maneuver. Behind his enigmatic smile there was something deeper, a spark of genuine interest that puzzled you, as if your vulnerability had resonated with something he understood in his innermost being.

You didn't know what it was exactly, but in his silence and the way he looked at you, you sensed an unexpected connection.Alastor barely tilted his head, studying you with that captivating curiosity, as if he was valuing every word, every pause. His eyes, dark and enigmatic, never left yours, and in that moment you felt that he also showed you, perhaps unintentionally, a part of his true self.

—It is not common to find sincerity in the midst of a night of disguises.— he finally commented, his voice low and rich in nuance, each word spoken with a cadence that seemed to carry a special weight.

That calm that surrounded him, that strange peace he exuded, made you feel that he understood, even if he didn't say so explicitly.

For a second, the melody seemed to intensify around you, enveloping you both in an intimate and unreal space, a corner away from the world. The music and the gloom seemed to protect that confession, as if they had shared something sacred and Alastor had received it with a silent but profound respect.

He slid his hand, slowly, toward the center of the table, an implicit invitation, an offer of connection beyond words. He watched you with that same unfathomable intensity, his gaze like an abyss inviting you to enter unreservedly. And then, in that melodious, resonant voice, he spoke again:

— Sometimes, my dear...—he whispered, as if sharing a secret, — what we find is more important than what we seek.

His words hung between you, and you realized that, on that strange night, in that secluded and mysterious corner, you had found something more than a stranger. You had found a dark mirror in which you reflected yourself, and though you found it disturbing, you could not look away.

Now, immersed in the crushing and enveloping atmosphere, you found yourself watching him with a new intensity. Every detail about him, from his suit to the subtlety of his gestures, took you back to buried memories, images of a time that was once yours, but already seemed faded in your memory. There was something about his elegance that, as you looked at him closely, evoked a feeling in you, a sense of familiarity.

That thought, as regretful as it was revealing, made you feel an irresistible impulse, an urge to break the spell and voice aloud the suspicion that was hovering in your mind. With a subtle effort not to appear too intrigued, you muster your courage and allow the words to flow.

—Tell me…—you began, noticing that your voice was soft, almost a whisper— in life, were you… also from the thirties?

The question was direct, but there was a naturalness in the tone that seemed to be that of someone who recognizes a reflection in another person. As you asked it, your eyes remained fixed on him, waiting for some reaction, something that would confirm what, deep down, you already sensed. Because he not only seemed to be out of tune with that modern era; his bearing, his manners, that elegance carefully woven into every gesture... everything about him evoked a time that had been left behind, and that, somehow, you both shared.

Alastor let out a low, resonant laugh, a sound that spread through the room like the echo of an old radio crackling, almost tangible in the gloom around them. The laughter was brief, but in it you sensed something that seemed more than mere amusement: there was a spark of recognition, as if he had been waiting for that question and was pleased that you had taken the first step to ask it.

—Ah, wow...— he replied, without losing his characteristic enigmatic tone.— Very perceptive. Yes, I come from that era, and I must say that it is a pleasure to know that my essence has not been forgotten, even in these... accelerated times.

His words carried with them a kind of covert nostalgia, a hint of melancholy that, though barely perceptible, made you feel that you shared something more than a common era. He too seemed to remember that time with a mixture of disdain and longing, as if what you had both left behind was something unattainable, but indelible.

Alastor would look at you with a renewed intensity, that same spark of genuine interest in his eyes that you had sensed before, but now even sharper. It was as if, in that simple confession, he had allowed you to glimpse a part of his being, a fragment of the person he had been in life. The tension between you became more intimate and meaningful, as if that small revelation had created an unspoken bond, an understanding that transcended time and space.

— And so do you, I see...— He continued, in a tone that seemed to slide like a dark caress.

Alastor did not look away, and in his smile there was a subtle satisfaction, an almost pleased expression.Alastor's statement took you by surprise, shocking your perception and bringing back memories you had long since relegated to oblivion.

Although you had met many personalities in hell, each from different eras, rarely had anyone immediately noticed your origin, especially in a place and at a time like that. Most souls, like you, adapted to the dizzying pace of modern times; but Alastor, on the other hand, seemed absolutely adamant about renouncing his roots, that 1930s essence that permeated his every gesture, his every look.

His revelation awakened in you a torrent of contradictory sensations. You had forgotten what it meant to be recognized by the era that, in life, defined you. You had become so accustomed to the present time that, strange though it was, the past felt distant. But now, in front of him, those memories took shape again, and a part of you recognized yourself in that deliberate nostalgia, in that resistance to the expiration of what once was.

Alastor kept his eyes on you, watching you with an intensity that seemed to scan beyond appearances. His smile, even more enigmatic now, contained a kind of quiet satisfaction, as if the fact that you shared that time had solidified a special bond. He seemed pleased, perhaps because, somehow, seeing in you an ancient essence reaffirmed his own.

—Curious, isn't it?—he commented, leaning slightly towards you, just enough for his words to come through as an intimate whisper.— There's something about those times that's impossible to forget. Although... I guess some people just decide to leave it behind.

His tone was a challenge, an invitation to explore the background of what he had left behind. And though you were tempted to reply, to offer a defense for having adopted the rhythms of the present, deep down you knew that would be an incomplete explanation.

In the reflection of his words there was a truth you could not deny: perhaps you had left that era behind in an attempt to fit into modern eternity. But as you looked at him, so steeped in his original essence, you wondered if, at some point, you had lost something fundamental in the process.

Yourself...

The jazz in the background changed to a slower tempo, as if the atmosphere itself sensed the intimate, melancholy tone of the conversation. The music seemed to envelop them in a cocoon of shadows and dim lights, a refuge where both could exist in the limbo of their own memories.

You decided to break the silence, feeling it was time to accept that truth he seemed to see so clearly.

— I think that, with time, one forgets what was... or, at least, decides to leave it behind so as not to become a prisoner of it.— you said, with a sincerity that surprised both you and him. You watched his face, looking for some sign of disagreement or approval, but Alastor simply looked at you, his expression thoughtful and unperturbed.

His recognition brought with it an unexpected flash: a blurred image of someone you once loved. A man who had shared a life with you before oblivion, someone whose features now seemed to reverberate in Alastor's face. His presence, his gaze, even the echo of his voice, seemed to evoke a strange familiarity, like a distorted reflection of that ancient love. Thoughts fragmented in your mind, mingling with past emotions, buried memories and contradictory feelings that, until then, you had not known still inhabited you.

Alastor, for his part, also sensed that disturbance in the peace he had carefully maintained over the years. Since you entered the room, something about you had captured his attention in a way he could not understand. He felt a persistent murmur, an echo of sensations that he had decided to bury some time ago, and that now seemed to crack the heart of indifference he had built around himself. That voice inside him, faint but constant, seemed to murmur to him that in you there was something more, something that was not limited to this night.

They were both silent, caught in that intangible connection that spoke to them of a past that could not be ignored. The notes seemed lower, deeper, like a whisper from their own unconscious, and the gloom of the room felt like a sanctuary where they could confess truths they had preferred to forget.

Finally, you dared to break the stillness, your voice barely a whisper, a truth torn from your soul without permission.

— You... you remind me of him.— the words escaped before you could stop them, revealing more than you had intended to share. Alastor narrowed his eyes, and for the first time, a spark of vulnerability peeked into his gaze. Not irritating; the sly expression that always disappeared, and in its place appeared something you hadn't seen before, a kind of recognition and an inner struggle that was evident to him.

—Him...?— he repeated, quietly, as if that revelation also disarmed him.The echo of your words seemed to reverberate in the room.

In his mind, Alastor also recognized something eerily familiar about you, something he had overlooked, perhaps deliberately. Memories crowded into his mind: images of someone who had also meant something important in his mortal life, of a time he had left behind, or so he had wanted to believe. But now, in front of you, it was as if that illusion of detachment was beginning to crumble.

Every word, every gesture, every glance seemed to open a small crack in the wall he had built around himself, revealing pieces of a past he had sealed with his own contempt.

Your words, almost whispered, echoed like a forgotten echo, unearthing emotions buried so long ago that you hardly knew they still belonged to you. A flurry of questions and feelings swirled in your mind, confused, uncontrollable. On impulse, your hand moved almost of its own accord, bringing your fingers to your mask. You felt each centimeter revealed expose a part of you that you had learned to hide, as if, in that moment, you were forcing yourself to face the truth you had tried to evade.

Alastor did not look away. Your every move seemed to capture his undivided attention, his eyes burning with an anticipation he could not mask. As you dropped the mask, you could see his face change subtly, reflecting emotions that seemed to find themselves for the first time in his cold, calculating presence. With every millimeter you revealed, you felt him approaching not in distance, but in time, as if you were both about to unveil something shared, a truth that had been waiting in silence.

When the mask finally fell, your eyes met his. You felt naked, exposed, and yet there was a serenity in the connection that formed in that meeting of gazes. Your eyes, now vulnerable, reflected an unfathomable melancholy, the same melancholy you found in his gaze that is only seen between two souls that share the same weight. It was a deep sadness, a mark of time and the lives they had left behind. In those eyes of Alastor, you recognized something more than a simple affinity; you saw a reflection of yourself, a familiar shadow, as if in some corner of the past their destinies had intertwined.

The room hung in a dense silence, filled with an unconfessed understanding, a recognition that both of you could barely hold. Alastor's gaze remained fixed on your naked face, free of masks, vulnerable before him. It seemed as if his eyes devoured every detail, seeking confirmation in every feature that could bring back the fragments of his dormant memory. In a corner of his being, a spark of nostalgia flared, timid flames that threatened to consume him in the storm of what he once was.

You, however, felt a violent bewilderment. Every scattered fragment of memory in your mind began to fit into patterns that were painfully familiar. You stood motionless, caught between disbelief and the bitterness of revelation. This demon before you, this being known for his cruelty and malice, bore in his eyes the reflection of a lost time that, in some corner of your soul, still burned like embers. His eyes, that very specific way with which he looked at you, brought up memories you thought buried, faces and sounds that now emerged with a clarity that stunned you.

Finally, you broke the silence with a broken and fragile voice, holding your head as if the intensity of those memories were tearing you apart.

—It can't be... you... is it really you?—you whispered, your tone full of bewilderment and pain.

Alastor, whose sharp smile seemed to be his trademark, now transformed it into a crooked line, full of bitter irony. There was pain in his face, yes, but also a hint of relief, a tacit acceptance that lent an unusual gravity to his presence.

—Oh, my dear...— he replied, his voice tinged with a mocking sadness, like a joke that only he understood.— In hell, everything is possible, don't you think. Perhaps this reunion was inevitable.

The tone of his words was so soft that the ironic notes seemed to envelop a heartbreaking truth, a confession to the media. That slight mocking smile, a shield against pain, blurred on his lips as he looked at you, and in the silence that followed, you both seemed to sink into the bitter irony of a love that had begun in secret and now, in hell, showed itself naked and without escape.

His fingers approached yours, trembling, but determined. It was a barely perceptible touch, but with the weight of a repressed eternity.

—After so much... is this all? — you murmured in a broken voice, a thread of resentment in your tone.—You were just a shadow in my memory, a love I never fully knew, someone who disappeared just like that, leaving me with nothing... Was that all for you?

Alastor held your gaze, your eyes now charged with a somber intensity, a restrained pain. Still, his fingers closed around yours, and his words came out low, laden with a sincerity that few had ever heard from him.

—You don't know how much I was waiting for this moment,— he whispered, and the confession was so unexpected, so raw, that you felt your own thoughts freeze. That soft voice, free of the radio effect that characterized him, was the same of the man you had loved, the one who spoke to you in whispers when all was silent. For the first time in an eternity, you felt that the man you loved was really in front of you, that the lost love still had a voice.

A sigh escaped your lips as a lone tear slipped down your cheek. The reality of his absence, of his departure, hit you with renewed force.

—And you don't know how much I feared you would come to remember all this.—he added, almost in a whisper, as if the weight of the confession might crumble him. It was a truth wrapped in fear, in years of darkness, in a loss he never admitted.

The room seemed to hold its breath as they were both caught in the echo of a love that had been interrupted by death, by time, by decisions neither could change. The void he left in your life now seemed to have been filled, but not without the scars of the past.

— Everything was so dark...— you whispered, your voice shaky and barely audible.— When I lost you, it was as if everything went out. As if only shadows and cold remained.

Alastor, without looking away, let his fingers caress your face with an almost sacred reverence, as if he still feared to lose you. In a soft, steady whisper, he replied:

—That darkness, that cold... they were the only thing that could have brought us here. Perhaps only from the shadows can I see you again.

His tenderness, so unexpected and genuine, caused your lips to trace a fragile smile, full of sadness and resignation. You both knew that the road had been dark and full of mistakes, and yet, in this strange destiny, you felt you had returned to the place where you had always belonged: together.

— When I lost you... how could I have imagined that I would see you again, and like this? —You confessed in a voice that seemed to contain a lifetime of pain, of unexpressed love.

He stepped back a little, understanding the weight of your resentment, of the doubt that still throbbed in your chest, and held you firmly, with the assurance of someone who was not going to let you go again.

—Cher... in life we didn't know how to escape. But here we are, and this time, no one can force us apart.— The promise in his words was so firm, so absolute, that they both felt in that instant that hell had brought them together as much as it had separated them.

The room, the time and the darkness seemed to vanish in the embrace that followed.

Everything you had lost and searched for over the years now enveloped you in an impossible relief. It was as if the weight of all those moments lived in each other's absence dissolved in a single instant, as if the eternity you shared in hell was the only truth you had been searching for.

And so, in the silence of the infernal night, they found in the silence of their own pain the only possible peace, and reflection of one in the other, the end of a love that had always been eternal.

Their souls had been searching for each other, until the end of eternity.

Night had fallen softly, covering New Orleans with a blanket of melancholy. The cobblestone streets echoed to the sound of dry leaves blown in swirls by the autumn wind. The air smelled of recent rain, a perfume of damp earth that already seemed part of the city's atmosphere of mystery and nostalgia.

In the distance, in a dark and discreet corner, stood a small old library, its facade barely illuminated by the dim glow of the lamps. Its appearance was that of a refuge forgotten in time, a place that few noticed and where those who sought it could find a secret peace. Here, far from the gaze of others, was where you and Alastor used to meet, two souls caught in a strange spell of proximity and distance.

As you entered, your heart beat faster than usual, as if anticipating something your mind could not yet name. You closed the door carefully, letting the silence settle around you, and your eyes roamed the shelves and shadows until you found the familiar figure of Alastor, in the background, by a window.

He was standing with a book in his hands, immersed in a dim light that seemed to accentuate the enigmatic air of his essence. He was dressed, as always, in his elegant, impeccable suit, and as he looked up at the sound of your footsteps, a sharp smile - so his, so full of secrets - illuminated his face. You felt a tingle in your chest, an unconfessable emotion that he always managed to awaken in you.

At first it was his voice that attracted you: that magnetic softness, enveloping, like a whisper full of power. But as time went by, you had been caught by something deeper and less understandable, something that bordered on the spiritual, as if on a hidden level you were irremediably united.

—Ah, finally. I thought you weren't coming today,— he said with that warm tone he used only for you, but there was something else in his voice, a hint of anticipation, as if tonight was different.

You walked towards him with a shy smile and stopped just a breath away. You took the book he was holding and, out of the corner of your eye, you felt his gaze fixed on you, intense, as if he was looking to read something you had not yet said.

—And what would you have done if I hadn't come?—you asked in a playful tone, though with a slight tremor in your voice. Something about him had changed in the last few days, he had become more distant, more elusive, and that aroused in you a growing uneasiness.

Alastor held your gaze, his expression serene but his dark eyes shone with something indecipherable, something that seemed to hold all the words he would never say. Slowly, he slid his hand over yours, removing the book and setting it aside.

—You would have left me here, alone... thinking of you.— he murmured, his voice barely a whisper laden with a weight you didn't understand.

A thick silence settled between the two of you, and before you could react, Alastor wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to him. It was a gesture that on the surface was casual, but deep down, it felt like an anchor, as if he was trying to hold on to something that, somehow, he was already letting go.

At that distance, Alastor's scent surrounded you: a mixture of smoke, mint and something darker, something undefined that filled your senses. In that instant, the world seemed to vanish, leaving only that space between the two of you, like a bubble suspended in time.

—I know almost nothing about you, Alastor...—you whispered, with a mixture of curiosity and sadness. Every time you tried to know something deeper about him, about his secrets, he slipped through your questions like a ghost, like a mystery that never let itself be revealed.— Why don't you ever talk about yourself?—you asked softly, hoping, almost begging, that this time he would let you see the man behind the enigma.

Alastor lowered his gaze, his expression becoming somber, but the smile lingered on his lips, a smile that never reached his eyes, as if behind it lurked shadows that were not yours to understand. She seemed to be torn between the words she wished to say and those she could not allow herself to reveal.

— Perhaps... some secrets are better left that way, my dear. Things are less... charming when they come out in the open.— His tone held an almost imperceptible bitterness, but you noticed the trace of pain she was trying to hide. He turned his gaze to the window, where the reflection of the two of them was projected in the gloom.— Sometimes... I like to think that as long as you're with me, nothing else is needed.

That confession was almost inaudible, but there was a fragility in his words that you had never seen in him before, a crack through which you barely managed to peek. You raised a hand and, with a delicate gesture, touched his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eye.

—No matter what you hide... The only thing that matters... is this moment.—you said with unexpected firmness. It was not so much a truth as a desperate promise, one that protected you from the certainty that someday he would vanish from your life like a dream.

For an instant, Alastor's face softened, and his fingers traced the outline of your face, as if he were trying to etch every detail into his memory. The world, the secrets, the danger... all disappeared in the touch of his lips, in a kiss that felt more like a farewell than a beginning.

You clung to him, feeling the warmth of his body, while he held you with a restrained intensity, as if, at that moment, you were the only thing that really mattered to him. Neither of you spoke of the inevitable, but in the silence of that small library, you both knew that that night would be your last.

Soon after, you said goodbye with a smile, and he, promising to return. You left before he did, but stood on the corner, watching him walk away. His footsteps echoed down the cobblestone street, and with each one, it seemed to you that he was taking a piece of your soul with him.

The next morning, rumors spread like a shadow over New Orleans: the infamous Bayou killer had fallen in a confrontation, felled by a burst of gunfire. You heard the news like a distant echo, never suspecting that the man they spoke of in horror was the very man you had secretly loved, the man who held in his breast darker secrets than you could have imagined.

In time, the memory of him began to fade into the shadows, like a dream you clung to in vain. It was only years later, in another time and another world, that you met him again, in the place where you were both destined: a corner of hell where souls crossed by darkness meet again, united by a cruel and unbreakable bond that not even death could break.

That time, you understood that destiny had sealed them together forever, with no possibility of redemption, no possibility of escape.

Omg.

This story was too sentimental for me, but after all, I loved the ending. I actually thought first of the scene of them being human and then moved to the moment of their reunion at speed dating, and I think it was a good result.

I really had this story ready, but due to time issues I delayed it too much, however, I hope you like it as much as I do. I also wish you a Happy Halloween, Hahahaha, bye ♡

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor #hazbin hotel inspired #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #happy halloweeeeeeen #halloween #speed dating #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel

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littlest-w01f · 4 months ago

Text

Personal Tailor

Sylus x Reader

SYLUS MASTERLIST

LADS MASTERLIST

Summary: For a big event in the underground, you need to dress your best, make a statement. Sylus is more than happy to accompany you to find it.

Cw: Spicy but no actual smut

A/N: Plot idea from the lovely @crrybrry on the LaDs community with my spin to it

As you enter the boutique, the air is filled with the scent of luxury fabrics and the hum of satisfied customers. With Sylus' hand in yours, you made your way to the back of the store, not even bothering with the gowns on the store's front. It insulted Sylus' money. As he had said, when you put things worth less than 50,000 on his card.

As you reached the back of the store, a tall, elegant woman approached you. She has greying hair styled into a sophisticated bun and piercing blue eyes that hold a hint of curiosity as she took in your appearance, clad in a simple dress, but it was Sylus's coat over your shoulder, an act of possessiveness on your boyfriend's part, that took her attention, and you could hear the cash register in her eyes. "My dear, we have some exquisite designs in our vault just for you. Would you like to see them?" She says, her voice smooth and melodic, almost lulling.

Without waiting for your response, she leads you towards a large, polished wooden door at the end of the room. With a swift motion, she unlocked it and stepped aside, allowing you and Sylus to go inside first. "Here, we keep our most exclusive pieces. They're not for everyone... But I think they might suit your body perfectly. I don't think I've seen someone so fit to try these specific dresses."

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes, she was clearly talking to Sylus' coat rather than you, you turned to him, eyebrow raised slightly, but he shrugged, used to people trying to butter him up. "Sure, sweetie, go on, do whatever you want. This gown is on me, remember."

The vault was a sight to behold. The walls were lined with various gowns, each more stunning than the last. There were dresses in every colour imaginable, some adorned with intricate embroidery while others boasted delicate lacework. Some had long trains, others were short and sexy, yet still elegant in their own way, there were strapless numbers, halter bodices, corsets, and everything in between.

You walk slowly, taking care not to miss anything, your fingers brushing against the soft, fabrics. You touch a satin dress, feeling its texture under your fingertips. You move onto a gown with intricate lacework, admiring the craftsmanship involved. Every detail seems to be perfect, down to the last thread.

Suddenly, you feel Sylus's hand on your waist, pulling you closer to him. He whispers in your ear, "Pick one, sweetheart." His words send shivers down your spine, and you feel your resolve wavering. "Which one do you choose?"

As you reach out to touch a blood-red gown, a wave of anticipation washes over you. Its colour reminds you of Sylus's eyes, captivating and alluring. The straps fall off the shoulders, the skirts were layered in black with the red, a long slit that would reach your thigh, roses on the corsetted bodice. You imagine yourself wearing this dress, your curves accentuated by its form-fitting bodice, the skirt flowing around your legs as you walk.

"You know," Sylus murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "That dress would look absolutely stunning on you." His hands rest on your hips, pulling you closer to him. "And it will make quite the impression."

His words echo in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. This dress felt right, it represents who you would be for the weekend, strong, confident, and unapologetic.

You grabbed the gown, slipped into the changing room. Sylus followed you inside without making a sound, and closed the door behind you. You yelp seeing Sylus inside with you, rolling your eyes at him.

"I'm sorry, kitten, did you expect privacy? That's cute." Sylus chuckled, stepping closer to you until he was mere inches away. His hand reached up to caress your cheek gently, his thumb tracing along your lower lip before pulling away. "I'm here to unzip you," He winked, reaching over to grab the zipper pull.

His hands were gentle yet firm as they traced up your spine, stopping just before they reached the nape of your neck. Your heart pounded in your chest, excitement coursing through your veins. Despite the heated touch of his hands, you felt oddly calm.

As he lowered the zipper, the sound echoing in the small room, you couldn't help but shiver. Not only because of the cool air hitting your exposed skin, but also due to the burning of Sylus's gaze, as if digging into your skin. It was as if he were undressing you with his eyes as much as his hands, stripping away every layer your being with your clothes until all that remained was raw desire.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, leaning in closer until his lips were barely inches away from your hair. His eyes going over your simple cotton lingerie, "Cute."

You stood looking at the mirror at yourself and Sylus, "Great. Now help me put on the dress." You looked over your shoulder at him, smiling. "And no funny business."

Sylus laughed softly at your request, shaking his head. "No funny business, huh? I guess I'll have to find other ways to entertain myself then."

He helped you step into the dress, pulling it up and zipping it carefully before stepping back to admire you in it, the corset tightened.

"Hmm... It's a little big..." You pinched the dress over your hips, the length of the skirts were also longer than your legs, making a mess of fabric on the ground. "Nothing that can't be fixed."

"I can fix it," Sylus smirked, stepping close again. Before you knew what was happening, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His body heat enveloped you, and you could feel every hard line of his muscular frame pressing against yours.

His hands moved to the sides of your hips, holding the excess fabric in place. Then, with a swift tug, he pulled the material tighter against your body, effectively cinching the dress to fit your curves perfectly. The action caused a ripple effect across your skin, sending chills down your spine.

You glanced down at your reflection, gasping softly at how the dress now hugged every curve of your body, accentuating your figure. It was stunning. "Yeah, this is perfect. I want it."

"Then lets just get the adjustments done to your measurements and take this home." Sylus whispered, still holding the fabric to make the bodice fit better. "Come on, let's go."

In the quiet room of the tailor, you stood alone, having given your dress to the front desk, waiting for him to come and measure you. "Of course it's you," You teased, crossing your arms over your chest defensively when it was Sylus who walked in with a measuring tape. "You really won't let the professional do their job, huh?"

Sylus merely laughed at your concern, stepping closer until he was within arm's reach. His voice dropped considerably. "Why would I, sweetie? I'd have to kill my tailor if he touched you for too long."

"I thought you liked your tailor," You quipped, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Or is it that you don't trust anyone else to handle me?"

"Trust is not the issue, kitten," He drawled, his voice dropping an octave lower. He circled you like a predator observing its prey, his eyes never leaving your form, standing in front of you. "It's about ensuring nothing but the best for my girl."

When he started to wrap the tape around your bust, you rolled your eyes, "And you're doing it wrong-" You gasped when he pulled at both the ends, making your breasts bounce up slightly, pressing together, a cocky glint in his eyes.

"Ahh, apologies, darling. Wasn't aware that this was a sensitive area," Sylus mused, his fingers brushed against your skin lightly, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake. His touch was teasingly gentle, as if he was testing the waters, gauging your reaction.

Despite the casual remark, there was a distinct change in his demeanor. His usually charming smirk softened into something more intense, predatory even. His eyes roamed over your form, drinking in every detail, the way your clothes clung to your curves, the slight blush on your cheeks, the quickened pace of your breath.

"Want to help me?" He asked, breath warm against your ear, "For someone with experience in everything, I've never measured a woman before. Never wanted to. You are all I need."

Your throat went dry at his words, "Ok... So you..." You exhaled as you looked deep into his eyes, breathless and lost for words. "First you measure the fullest part of the bust..."

"Right," Sylus murmured, his voice dropping to a low purr. He stepped closer, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "Like this."

He squeezed gently, kneading the flesh in his palms as he held them firmly. A shudder ran through him as he felt the softness of your breasts beneath his hands, the warmth radiating from your body. His grip tightened slightly, just enough to produce a moan from you.

"Mmhmm..." You inhaled sharply as he replaced his hands with the measuring tape. Your body very aware of his every move.

"I think I got the hang of it," Sylus said, his voice a low murmur against your ear. He made sure to press the tape snugly against your skin, savoring the feeling of your curves beneath his fingertips.

The scent of your perfume filled his nostrils, driving him wild. His breathing became ragged, each exhale heavy with lust. His eyes trailed down your body, taking in every inch of you. He was painfully aware of the bulge growing in his pants, straining against the fabric.

"Sylus…" You groaned, biting your lip as you tried to focus on the task at hand. But it was becoming increasingly difficult with his hands firm against your breasts, he looked like he was in no hurry to move.

"Oh, kitten, you've said my name like that for so long. If we keep going at this rate, we might end up skipping this fitting all together." With a teasing grin, he leaned in closer, his lips ghosting against your earlobe. "And that wouldn't be such a bad thing, would it? Exchange this fitting for how well you fit around my-"

"Write it down and then we measure around the narrowest part of the waist," You cut him off, a blush burning on your cheeks, placing your hands on his, guiding them to your waist. "Here."

"Yes, yes, here," Sylus agreed, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. He let his hands linger on your waist, feeling the curve of your hips under his fingers. His heart pounded in his chest, the heat between you palpable.

As he slipped the tape around your slender middle, you felt up your soft stomach, pinching teasingly, full of unflexed hidden muscles. "You're so tiny compared to me," he murmured, tightening the tape just enough to measure. "But you fit against me perfectly."

"You seem to be enjoying yourself quite a lot," You commented, blushing deeply, avoiding eye contact. His hands felt so good on your body, too good.

Sylus chuckled, his hands slipping down to rest on your hips. "I always enjoy being close to you, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "And right now, I'm particularly enjoying getting to know your body better." He said as he wrote down the waist measurement.

"You're blushing, love," Sylus noted, his gaze flickering over your face. His thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone, crimson eyes taking in ever inch of detail. "Is my touch too much for you?" His touch was feather-light, tender. There was a certain intimacy to it that came out only around you. "I can be gentler, if you prefer," he offered, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Not at all," You replied, trying to calm your racing heart. "Just... Never been measured like this before."

"That's because you haven't met someone like me yet," Sylus responded smoothly, a smug grin playing on his lips. His hands drifted lower, tracing the swell of your hips, before dipping underneath to cup your ass. He gave it a gentle squeeze, marvelling at the roundness.

"There's two last measurement left," he informed you, his voice dropping to a seductive purr. "Are you ready for that too, sweetheart?"

You could feel your heart beating in your ears, blood rushing though, "Hips and... And then... The length..." You nodded.

"Good girl," Sylus purred, his hands still resting on your hips. He stepped back slightly, giving himself some space to properly measure your hips. He knelt on his right knee, face to face with your belly. His eyes never left your form, drinking in every movement, every twitch.

He wrapped the tape measure around the widest part of your hips, pulling it tight enough to get an accurate reading. As he did so, his fingers brushed against your skin, causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Beautiful," he murmured, taking note of the measurement, then he looked back up. "You, not what the number says."

Sylus grinned, rising back to his feet. His eyes roved hungrily over your form, lingering on your thighs and the tantalizing hint of your cleavage. He cleared his throat, snapping out of his reverie.

"It seems we're almost done here," he murmured, moving behind you. His hands rested on your shoulders, thumbs grazing along your collarbone. "Last one. Breathe out, sweetie."

With that, he dropped the tape measure around your ankles, pulling it snugly up your legs. As he reached your crotch, he paused momentarily, fingers hovering over the spot that was already throbbing with anticipation.

"Sylus…" You whispered as he pulled the measure up to your hips, where the skirt would start from, "Don't tease..."

"Hush, kitten," Sylus chided softly, his hands pausing at her hips. He let his fingers trace the hem of her skirt, his touch feather-light. "We're almost done here."

His hands slid down your sides, over the curve of your hips until they reached the edge of your skirt. He let his fingers dance along your thighs. His other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against him. "So soft," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck. "Let's go back to the base now, alright?"

"Alright," you answered, closing your eyes as he kissed your neck. "Lets go home." You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Your body was pressed against his, the heat between you intense.

He let out a low growl, his hands tightening on your waist. "My pleasure, sweetie," he murmured, his voice a low purr. He led you out of the store, his arm possessively around your waist.

Once outside, he passed the helmet you'd claimed as yours by adding cat ears on it, getting on his motorcycle, helping you up, "Grab on. We can collect your dress later." He said, voice muffled by the visor, before his engine roared to life.

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