#eloquence in slow motion

[mournfulroses]

Mary Oliver, from "Eloquence in Slow Motion," featured in Devotions: Selected Poems

[thatwishfulthinking]

a wretched flower

my last one shot skipped viktor giving head… rest assured that is not something i plan to let happen often… and here, neither do you

wc: 3.5k

summary: after years of avoiding his feelings for you, viktor has finally turned a corner— though you’re still unsure if he’ll stumble back into the bear trap of all-consuming work. not too keen on neglect, you decide to make sure he’s sticking to the right track. newly established relationship. f!reader

warnings: smut, desperation, dirty talk, choking

btw— i kind of have no idea what’s going on here. dom!vik, sub!vik, then angst, then metaphors, then clichés, then more sub!vik, and straight smut, and a little fluff? idk this has been making me insane for like a month

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clothes are left in a trail, leading from the living room into the bedroom. You're both on the bed, limbs tangled as you cling to each other. He's whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Things, of course, you’d have appreciated to hear scattered across the day instead of sewn together and adhered to one single moment.

It was a reality that you hoped for at the beginning of your relationship, only to soon declaw each finger from, one at a time, until you let it go. After yet another dinner at your kitchen island alone, accompanied by the somber tap of an expectant fork, heating up the remenants for a stony soul when he finally decided to cross through the front door. Things had been better; you basked in his attention for some time. It was only recently that he had backslid into the same depths that pooled at the most tormented part of your mind. 

Improvement wasn’t linear, of course, but god, could the ebbs and flows of it all be nothing less than excruciating. A garden, tended to and watered, would not continue to flourish if suddenly neglected. And oh, were you in trouble if came winter’s first frost. 

He moans softly, his hips thrusting upwards to meet yours, nipping at your earlobe. "I could do this with you for the rest of my life, and it would never be enough." His kiss is stinging with the sweet affection you’ve sought for fruitlessly for days now.

You grab his hips and needily move them faster for him. You knew he wouldn’t last this way, and the dichotomy of not wanting it to be over and desperately needing to take what you could, in the fleeting moments you had it, festered low in your abdomen. 

Another moan is blooming on his lips, and you register it in blissful slow motion. "You're so impatient, my sweet girl.” It’s a breathless, low sound, reverberating light into that dark place in your brain. He relents, his hips snapping with intensity. "Like this?" he groans, the bulb in his throat tremoring deliciously as it his voice travels up his esophagus in offering.

“My sweet boy” you whine back insistently at the use of the name: The very phrase he had decided to comandeer, your favorite endearment for him. Shame on you for sharing it with him, because the cheeky thing loved it so much that he was compelled to make it yours instead. You wrench his hand off of your waist, placing it on your neck. 

The sly smirk that plays on his face is one of prideful understanding at your nonverbal prompt. He grips your throat gently, his hand wrapping around the eloquent column as he applies a slight pressure. His gaze is one of communication, searching, silently asking, Is this what you wanted?

“Harder, love,” you declare, because after ample days of not enough, too much was more than welcome.

A tightening feeling at your trachea. The intentional shift of his position. The subsequent heightening the speed of his movements, it all hits you like three successive strikes. “This okay?" he asks, his breathing ragged but his voice weighted by feathers as he monitors your reaction. 

He leans in, hand brushing over your cheek as he were thumbing layers of dust off a forgotten bookshelf. "Look me in the eyes," he commands gently, and you realize that as your face twisted and contorted under his, he had been absorbing the tiny details that spoke to something else battering at you. A somber note between syllables of your words, the very corner of your mouth, where your lips discolored at the transition to skin, curling downwards ever so slightly. Subtle, but there all the same.

When you meet his eyes, he settles at a conclusion to the very research he had been conducting from aereal view. He presents a hopeful, apologetic solution— it pains him to think of all the time you’ve spent utterly hollowed by his absense. 

"No matter how busy I might be, you're always on my mind.”

The reassurance swaths across your collarbones, fizzling out delightfully somewhere at the peaks of your shoulders. A sharp grin appears across your face. “I know it’s worse now.” A calculatedly vague statement, of course, baiting him. 

He furrows his brow, slightly concerned by the change in your demeanor, and oh, the poor thing falls into your trap. "What are you talking about, love? What do you mean it’s worse now?" he asks softly, releasing your neck and letting tentative fingers pass across your brow, pinky pressed to your temple.

You laugh mischievously— he was completely correct in his sentiment, and for this you were well aware. 

“You couldn’t stop thinking of me… compromised, before,” you grab his neck instead, causing his jaw to jerk forwards. “But now that you’ve had me, you need me. You need this, love, and now it’s even harder to wander from because you know exactly what it’s like.”

His eyes widen, mystefying golden caches that you’d love to curl up inside of. His bleached clavicle warms with something that resembles sun kisses, washed with a soft flush. 

He swallows hard, his gaze locked with yours. “That is something I cannot deny,” he admits, almost solemnly, eyes pacing back and forth pensively to find the subtext. "You're right. It's harder now. The lab, the separation, it is… challenging.”

You purse your lips, still holding a bit of teasing bregrudgement. “Tell me you love it then, Viktor. Speak to me, for god’s sake, forget all the pleasant—“

"Your pussy is divine," he cuts you off, the words rolling off his tongue, and it’s almost without second thought. Someone so pretty uttering such filthy words like a confession is a sight to behold, and your breath catches abruptly.

You bring a hand to his face, and he closes his eyes, his exhales growing stronger at the thought, offering more. “I dream of it, fantasize about it, obsess over it. I stare at the chalkboard and try to conjure up the taste of it in my mouth." 

“You must be parched,” and you sigh passively, as if isn’t the most seductive statement his eardrums could manage with currently.

His eyes fly open and he groans loudly, heat coursing through his body. You can feel the boiling froth in his stomach seeping through his skin into yours where you lie against one another. How enjoyable it is to peer at him now, avoiding eye contact, staring up at the cieling and squeezing his eyes closed in heavy blinks.

“You’ve been rude, baby.” You tut.

His chest swells with a large inhale before slowly looking down at you once again, raising an eyebrow. You can’t miss the immistakeble hint of a grin playing on his lips. "Have I? And what did I do exactly?”

He leans in closer, his hand trailing up the side of your leg, pressing a thumb into the dip below the jut of your hipbone. "I'd hate to think I've offended you, love."

”I’ve just noticed,” you lift your chin and angle it upwards towards him. “You skipped what you claim to crave.”

“Sounds like a terrible oversight on my part." He tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with playful corruption. 

He leans in, lips ghosting against yours, amber irises bleeding into one another centimeters from your eyes. A painting set to still, knocked sideways by the soft underbelly of your spite, just before it could dry. 

"Allow me to rectify that," he whispers, before gently placing a kiss on your collarbone, starting his descent.

You’re shaking your head as you watch him move towards your legs. ”I don’t know, I can’t help but think you don’t appreciate it.” Appreciate me. “Is that it?” You tease, feigning mock sadness, the real version holding real space in the real lonely moments you’ve endured without him lately.

He looks up at you in an emotion so passionate it may be offense. “Love,” he murmers, his voice low, now swinging his head back and forth as well. "You know that simply isn’t true. Don't make the mistake of doubting that." He’s nudging your legs apart, and the sick, scorned thing in your mind jumps at the opportunity to interject.

“Maybe I shouldn’t let you.” You grab his chin, pulling it away from where his face has become situated between your thighs so he looks up at you. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you discover what it tastes like after the fact. You think you deserve that, hmm?”

He stills, and his brows furrow in dismay. You swear you see his lips beginning to tremble. "No, please," he gasps, his voice barely above a whisper. He sucks his cheeks in and bites, creating a pronouced hollow on either side of his slim face.

You scan his expression, completely enthralled in the fact that you’ve never seen him do that before, but he’s still trying his best at persuasion. “Please, I want to taste us, together. I do.”

You nod, acknowledging his plea, your grip on him firming slightly, fingertips pinching and propping him up by the jaw, snared like a spider’s catch. “You forgot all about it, my sweet boy. I can’t help but think you’ve been negligent, and just started fucking me. That doesn’t seem fair,” you tut once again.

He whimpers, his body trembling without inhibition now. "I'm sorry," he chokes, his voice ragged, spitting out fragments, as if otherwise he would be forced to swallow splinters chipped from feeble teeth. “Never that. I couldn’t forget. I simply lost track of my thoughts. I got carried away, I got distracted, I’m sorry." 

It may be a bit deranged, but you see yourself frolicking around, victorious, in your mind’s eye. There, you are clutching his reassurance— though product of an entirely different conversation— in a tight, delighted fist. Despite it all, your expression remains stoic.

"Please, just one taste. Just let me have one." There’s a low urgency in his voice that you haven’t heard before.

You spread your legs wider, immediately yanking his chin back up away from you as he tries to drive for a lick. His neck is now rendered taught again, poised back up towards you from your own manipulation. “I think that’s disingenuous, love. I think you know that one taste isn’t enough for either of us.”

He moans in frustration that somehow he’s saying all the wrong things, scrambling for any words that will earn clemecy. You can see the gears turning, conjuring up a response— another of which, you know, and perhaps he does too, that you will easily meet with the tortourous fortress of your acidity. “You're right," he gasps hopelessly, giving in, and he makes sure to echo himself over and over. 

“Repetition doesn’t denote sincerity.” You patronize, to which you can nearly see beads of sweat born above his brow. He buries his face into your inner thigh, shameful, disheartened. 

“I want you to look,” you say, your grip loosening, allowing his neck to relax, throwing a leg over his shoulder, a coaxing heel following the path of his spine up and down.

Arousal spattered across your thighs, parted and reddened from him fucking you. Swelling like a flower at daybreak. He desperately wants to put his tongue where his cock had just been and—

You cut his thoughts off. “Why did you sabotage yourself, my love?”

He looks up at you, his eyes wide and bewildered. "Sabotage myself, darling?" he murmurs, his voice dragging with grief. "I don’t understand. What do you mean I sabotaged myself?"

You give him a stern look, heel settling against vertebrae for a moment while you readjust your expression. “Is it not my responsibility to make sure you take care of yourself? That you don’t starve yourself of your wants, of your needs? I forbid that. Though your actions suggest that this isn’t something you need.” You draw a jagged inhale.

“Or rather, that I am not.” 

And the bitter words finally find soil to take root here, stretching upwards and outwards, a wretched flower themselves.

He shakes his head vehemently, his eyes clouding with the pain of finally understanding. “No, please, don’t say that.”

You break, reverting back to the discouraged version of yourself that you’ve had to be for weeks, and you’re gazing at one another, palms stretched outwards, showing your hand, each card a compliment to the other’s misfortune.

“Do you doubt what I feel for you?” And he says it as if he fears the letters that comprise the words themselves. 

“No,” you say meekly, and his nose wrinkles slightly, not entirely convinced.

“It—“ he sucks in a sharp breath. “Consumes me while I’m away. You. I’m never without you in thought, you need to know that. Please, I can’t have you thinking otherwise. You don’t understand, I used to sleep in the lab, because that was what would consume me, but now, every night, I come back. I come back to you. I know it isn’t much, but come back.” His eyes search yours with a wildness to be heard. 

You swallow at the guilty knot of bile in your throat, tear ducts miraculously stirring awake for duty.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “You’re right,” There it is again. “It has been worse lately— thinking of you, in all regards. Just as my absence has worse. It’s ignorant for me to think that simply picturing you is enough. I know it isn’t. I need to be present, I need to just be with you.”

Here he is, Viktor, taking a sledgehammer to those walls, the ones you didn’t use mortar to build because you hoped that he would knock through them in the first place. Here he is, Viktor, crushing that wretched flower under the sole of a worn dress shoe, hurrying it into a paper bag which he takes to the lab and promptly incinerates so that its pollen is to never spread again. 

His gaze softens, thankful, when he observes that the downwards draw of your lips, where they discolor at the transition to skin, have pulled back to equilibrium. Subtle, but still there all the same. He takes another breath, now slow, much more assured. 

“And I will be, just, please.” 

You give him a weak nod, you find no skepticism for what he’s saying, and so, you take him up on his offer, you do not speak, you just be.

You sigh softly as he presses his chin to your mound, looking back up at you with adoration in his eyes, rubbing your thighs and sides and pulling your legs apart, before pressing a soft kiss to your clit. His eyes shine with desperation, one that lusters with the earnest need to convince. “Now, may I?”

A bashful smile is what he gets, a hand cupping his face, which is the most you can give while all of the solitude-driven uncertainty dissipates from your soul.

He pushes your legs apart, settling between them, his mouth hovering over your folds, bathing it in warm, billowing breaths. He plants soft kisses against your clit.

You grab desperately for a fistful of his hair. 

He gasps, his mouth already parted, tongue lolling, desperation turning into something much deeper. His tongue is hot, the suction of his mouth nearly unbearable, he’s being sloppy, abandoning his practiced nature simply for this.

He pauses and looks at you, his eyes locking with yours, his breaths coming in sharp pants against you. "I need you," he shudders, his voice ragged, bearing the weight of deeper meaning. 

There’s something so endearing about stopping what he’s doing to ask for more when he could just continue and take it for himself, but god, he’s worked himself up now, your foot twitching against his back. 

“Look at me,” you murmur, and he stops abruptly mid stroke, tongue out and glued to you, massive needy eyes, hazy with both sickening lust and pleading awe. You stroke his temple with your knuckle, murmuring his name breathlessly, and letting out a strangled cry as he cages his arms around your legs and pulls you up to his face, the back of your thighs locked against his collarbones, simultaneously held up and pinned down under his lips. The sensation of fabric tugging under your spine catches your attention, your gaze moving to angular shoulders, down his back, decorated with quaint little moles. You jump from one point to the next, where you rediscover the dimples at the base of his spine, just above where he’s moving his hips in slow, uncoordinated circles against the sheets. Hands, satisfied with how your thighs have found balance on his shoulders, shift, thumbs coming to massage where your skin meets your core, pulling it apart softly so he can lick his own whimpers into you, nose nudging at the underside of your clit.

Utterly helpless, the two of you, as you tug and chocolate tendrils and every muscle, every tendon, every capillary goes stiff. 

He moans, his hands grabbing at your thighs and pulling you even closer, giving you no escape. He's panting and sweaty, hair stuck to his brow, ears slightly flushed. It’s just about the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. "Please love," he whines, his voice ragged and urgent, “Please, love, please come. I need it. I need to.”

His face nods rapidly as he speaks into our flesh, and you cry out, his tongue lapping now with a preciseness to cultivate your orgasm and care for it like it’s precious. And your body feels like it’s accelerating, through all the seasons, the biting of winter in the jolts of adrenaline coursing in between your thighs, the mugginess of summer in his hot tastebuds. His dark eyelashes flutter like birds migrating, and his noises are like the groan of an old tree’s branches resisting torrential rain. His eyes are as captivating as golden hour, the sun begging you to follow it down the edge of the earth so that it can illuminate you all over again at the next hemisphere, pleading that you come with him. So you do. Hard, and he follows suit, straight into the duvet.

You’re stretching for him, reaching out and staring until your hands wrap around his shoulders and you inadvertently dig your fingers into his armpits, pulling him up on top of you and holding his waist with your thighs. He nuzzles into your neck, bracing a few moments too late for the shockwave. Your stroke his hair and tell him it’s okay, and you nearly want to sob, trembling against one another, willing your nervous system to still. And he nods into your throat, soothing you back, clutching at you tightly, whispering it’s okay back to you softly.

He grounds you without thinking or trying, just being, adorning your neck with tender kisses. You kiss his temple back, tilting your chin down against your throat to look at him as he draws his head to the side to peer back up at you. And you’re faintly aware that the angle of your face is abysmal, probably, but you don’t care.

“Are you okay?” You both ask, simultaneously, and your arms tighten around him affectionately.

You both chuckle when you speak at the same time, and it’s such a silly, wonderful thing, a small, soft smile budding on his lips. He’s so still, simply watching you, like you’ve just watered his soul. 

“Love…?”

“Yes, my sweet?” You whisper quietly, pecking his nose.

He shushes you softly, presses a finger against your lips. “Let me. Let me tell you…” 

You laugh at whatever strange force has corralled you two into pleasant delirium.

“Tell me.. what?” You murmur.

He whispers, slowly bringing himself up onto his elbows, his breath warm against your cheek, “Everything.. just...” he trails off and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You rub his temples gently with your thumbs, fingers stretching over his ears and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I know, love. You know that I know,” you coo. You let out a bashful, affectionate giggle as he rolls to the side, bringing you, your legs, still twined around him, with you. You kiss his mouth softly, then the spot between his eyebrows. “Do you know? That I also feel.. everything?”

“Yes… I do,” he sighs, and his eyes close, grazing the tip of his nose up and down the bridge of yours. It’s all so nonsensical, but the mutual understanding prevails.

“Then maybe we shouldn’t even attempt to find the words” You whisper, feeling some gravitational force pull your face right into his neck.

He nods, his hand coming up to swipe your hair out of the way, exposing the flesh of your shoulder, and he kisses you there, trailing kisses across your collarbone.

“You’re right,” he murmurs, just one last time.

You copy him, kissing his collarbone back, then his shoulder. He kisses your pulse point, so you do the same. When his lips land on your nose, it only takes a few seconds after they retract for yours to find his. And you continue this little exchange, the only language you need, back and forth, until drowsiness retires the two of you for the night. In your dreams, you weed out vines and thorny stems with gloveless fingers, vowing to only let the good things to grow.

[cowboyemeritus]

i do love how we're collectively characterizing perpetua (for the time being) as the quiet type BUT i think he should make up for it by being an avid sexter

You've just barely dozed off when your phone pings. You recognize Perpetua's text tone and perk up immediately, reaching for the device on your night stand. The screen comes on, washing you in blinding light, and you grimace. That's not going to disrupt your sleep cycle at all. Definitely not.

Hope you're not asleep yet.

You smile to yourself. It's a little more eloquent than a "u up?," but you know the intent is the same.

i was close

i'd much rather be talking to you tho

The blood is pumping now. No way you're falling asleep any time soon.

You flatter me, darling.

Already, your room feels stiflingly hot. You kick off your comforter, putting your next attack into motion.

figured i could stroke your ego in lieu of something else ;)

He starts typing, stops for a moment, and then starts again.

Straight to the point.

I like that about you.

You roll onto your stomach, kicking your feet. He's so reserved in person, so it's exciting, exotic, when he gets like this.

oh yeah? what else do you like about me?

What is he doing right now? Is he in bed, like you? Maybe he's fresh out of the shower, stripped of his mask and paints, clad in nothing but a towel. Maybe he's completely naked. The thought makes your mouth water.

Definitely your humility.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes.

That beautiful body is a close second, though.

Heat rises to your cheeks. You twist your legs together, the slight pressure sending a tremor down your spine. Wetness is gathering at your center already.

i've been told i've got some nice ankles

You couldn't resist. It brings you joy, pushing his buttons like this.

You think you're so funny.

i'm hilarious >:)

You should know better than to tease your new leader.

Ah, so he's pulling rank. You're in for a treat.

what are you gonna do about it, Your Dark Excellence? throw me in the dungeon? sic your ghouls on me?

You would just love that, wouldn't you?

they like to fuck, right?

He spends a prolonged period of time typing, and for a moment you worry you've put him off.

Like the animals they are, but they know you're mine.

It makes your heart throb and your pussy flutter at the same time. A devious idea pops into your brain. You peel off your baggy t-shirt, push your breasts together, and quickly snap a picture. Biting your lip, you press send.

you're right. all this is yours, papa

For a solid minute, there are no signs of life from Perpetua. It fills you with a smug satisfaction, knowing a simple titty pic can affect him so dramatically. He talks a big game, but at the end of the day, he's as weak for you as you are for him.

Just look at what you've done.

You lick your lips when the picture appears on screen. He's got his cock in hand, fully erect and flushed the prettiest shade of pink. The foreskin is completely pulled back, revealing the full bell shape of the tip, a bead of precum, like a pearl, oozing from it. Recalling the taste of him, you clench your thighs together, feeling your heartbeat between them.

fuck it looks so good

i wanna suck you off so bad

With the mental image of those silver claws twisting into your hair, your hand slinks downwards, creeping into your underwear. You quickly find your clit, drawing slow, lazy circles around it. You're in no hurry to finish this, not when it's just getting good.

You would do anything for it.

You've already done a few heinous things for dick, and he knows that.

pretty much

I bet you're fucking soaked just thinking about my cock in your mouth.

Seeing his composure start to slip, you grin, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You eye the time, tempted to take this further. It's fucking late though, already close to midnight, and you need to be up at 6:00 tomorrow morning.

The temptation is too great. Fuck work.

you know

i'm just down the hall

you could come find out

There's a pause. He's considering it. You hold your breath when it shows that he's typing again.

Be there in 5.

[jks1uv]

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑀𝑒 ; marc spector / steven grant | one-shot |

summary: in which you believe your boyfriend is perfect (and the one for you).

pairing: gf!fem!reader x bf!marc spector + gf!fem!reader x bf!steven grant.

trope: established relationship.

genre: fluff + romance + comedy.

warnings‼️: crude language + an implication of sex.

word count: 1,855.

random disclaimerrr: my oscar isaac phase started 3 years ago & moon knight literally changed my life. happy reading! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ ♡ © 2025 @jks1uv

He’s reading on the sofa with a velvet blanket draped across his legs.

A classic literature book in his hands, reading glasses sitting on the edge his nose; his face is relaxed.

No unnecessary creases in his forehead, no frown stitched onto this lips. Just cool, calm and collected.

The sun peeks out from the blinds and shines its rays on his side profile, adding a soft glow to his already gentle face.

His cocoa eyes look like pools of honey now, you can almost taste the sweetness swirling around in them.

His skin looks cleared from any blemishes, only the creases along his eyes and smile lines remain.

It adds to his personality, you think.

His face is shaped by the turmoils of life and are visible by those whose trials and tribulations leave a similar mark.

His nose is Greek-like and you understand the appeal of bigger than average noses.

He’s just reading but the atmosphere he’s created adds to his essence. He’s just reading and yet, he’s so handsome.

How did you get here? So down bad, I mean.

Maybe it’s his intelligence that does it for you.

You love a guy who knows his stuff and nobody reads classic literature anymore, let alone read.

Steven has always been a curious mind. His thirst for knowledge could only be quenched by more.

He loves learning and sharing what he’s acquired with you, no matter you know the concepts of the topic or not.

He’s passionate, eloquent, and just so fucking brilliant. He just happens to know… everything.

You think he’s the modern day Library of Alexandria.

“Did you need somethin’, love?”

Steven blinks up at you, his last page bookmarked.

He uses the bookmark you made him with the perfume you wore to your first date spritzed on top before laminating it.

You’re a deer in headlights, nervous you’d been caught drooling over how good he looked just sitting there all comfortable and indulging in what he loves.

“Hm? Oh- uhh, nope. Nothing! I’m good, everything’s good.”

You smile brightly and hope he believes it.

He nods once, a bit skeptical but drops it.

“Alright.”

You and Marc are grocery shopping.

He decided to drive so you let him, but then as you went to grab the cart; he beat you to that as well.

You don’t question it because you secretly admire how he wants to do everything for you. You want to see how far he’s willing to go.

Is that toxic?

You’re in the spices aisle, trying to remember if you need to stock up or just replace some items altogether.

“We need paprika and cinnamon, and we should also buy another can of salt since we’re about three quarters down.”

Your lips are parted in awe and your eyebrows are drawn together at his admirable eye for detail.

“How did you..?”

He pulls out a crumpled up little piece of paper, visibly torn out of a small journal or something.

He gives it you and you skim through. Sure enough, you find the 3 items he stated with little anecdotes among other items.

“Did you memorize this?” You ask with your mouth forming a slight smile.

He’s checking out the prices on paprika.

“Yeah.”

He’s so nonchalant dreadhead with his response but it means everything to you.

He finds a couple of small containers at a reasonable price and drops them into the cart.

You see 15 different things on there and he has them all memorized. For you.

“Take my breath away~”

That he has.

You’re having a movie-moment right now. Granted, at a Walmart, but their speakers are doing you so much justice.

It’s the perfect song to play in the background during the perfect moment.

It’s like he’s in slow-motion with his hand sweeping back some of his inky, shiny curls.

His eyes blink towards you and you see his lips moving but you can’t hear anything. It’s muffled, like you’re underwater.

But like all great things, it comes to an end quite abruptly.

He calls your name with a wave of his hand in front of your face to catch your attention.

*record scratch*

“Y/n? Did you hear me?”

“Uh- what, huh?” You blink profusely as you blabber.

Marc takes in your stunned expression but continues.

“I was asking if we should get that juice you really like. It’s not on the list, but you ran out of it a while ago.”

Your dry mouth and shameless staring becomes apparent to you. You clear your throat in an to speak.

“Uhh, yeah. Sure.” You mumble before coughing lightly.

You turn away and fly speed-walk to the juice, not daring to turn around and see your man glancing at your peculiarity.

"Hey, Y/n?"

"Hmm?"

You're currently painting your nails after not indulging in the art for a while. You’re cure them under the UV light while your lover asks for your opinion.

“Which one looks better.”

You look up at Steven’s ask and almost drop your jaw.

He’s wearing a black button up with the first few buttons open, revealing the smooth, tan skin on his built body.

He wears a lot of loose clothing but this button up was more fitted. The material stretched slightly around his biceps when he went close the two buttons at the cuff of the sleeves.

“Mhm.” You don’t trust your voice right now.

“Just ‘mhm’?”

You nod your head and gulp harshly when you see him turn to examine himself in the mirror.

The back.

His broad, firm, muscly back is hidden under the taut, cotton material and you can’t look away when he fixes a tie to compliment the shirt.

He’s muttering something you can’t bring yourself to focus on and don’t realize it was a question.

“Love? Hello?”

“Huh-? What happened?”

His brows are furrowed in a quizzical manner.

“Oh! Uhh, yeah. This is good, looks uh… nice. Great! Wear that one.” You smile hoping you haven’t given yourself away.

Steven frowns and comes towards you. He caps the nail polish and sets it aside along with the UV light.

“Are you alright?” He asks gently.

“Yeah! I’m alright, why wouldn’t I be?”

He tilts his head slightly and maintains eye contact with you.

You’re still aware of him wearing the shirt and the revealing skin atop his torso, creating space for something better beyond imagination.

The sight is too much, it makes you want to kiss him till you can’t, and then some.

His hands engulf yours and you have no choice but to look at him, nervous yet giddy inside.

“You can tell me, Y/n. Have I done something-?”

You go against your mind and kiss him.

It’s a clash of tongue and teeth, a messy fight for lips and the desperate result of fighting temptation.

Steven is surprised and while he does love kissing you, he’s completely befuddled.

“Love, wait-”

“No.”

You go back to indulging yourself and almost squeal in excitement when he grabs your waist to pull you closer when you feel him change.

The nervous yet giddy feeling comes back tenfold when the man you see is the constant object of your desires.

His eyes are so expressive, they have a language of their own.

You’re a bit breathless from a few moments ago.

“What’s gotten into you?” He’s amused but intrigued.

You shrug, a bit annoyed with the interruptions.

“I can’t just kiss my man whenever I want to?”

Marc’s eyebrows jump a bit at this and he feels a sense of pride in his heart when you remind him of being your man.

“You can.” He says simply.

You don’t know what he’s playing at when he’s the best at having a poker face.

“But..?”

He stares at you for a moment and sighs.

“You’re acting… different.”

Busted.

“Ever since that time Steven caught you staring at him-”

Fuck.

You really thought you nailed that, huh.

“-you’ve been off. I clocked it at Walmart when you were staring at me all Disney princess-like.”

That makes you feel threatened and touched.

“Aww wait that’s so cute- wait. Did you just use ‘clocked’ in a sentence unironically?”

He gets whiplash from your undivided attention switching sides due to his discovery.

“That’s what you’re choosing to focus on? Seriously?”

To be fair, you do have a bit (a lot) of brain rot.

“We need to ban you from TikTok.” He’s decides.

“They already tried that, silly.”

It’s fun sidetracking but anything to distract him for as long as possible before he forgets the true purpose of the conversation.

Unfortunately, he’s a smart cookie.

Marc narrows his eyes at you suspiciously. “I know what you’re doing.”

Okay, just stay calm.

“What, talking?”

A lazy smirk drapes over his features and he’s confident in himself.

“You know what.”

His deep, baritone voice makes an appearance in the form of a murmur and you’re weak.

He tilts his head in that way which makes you wonder what’s really going on in his head and it’s all mind games!

You’re stuck between the cycle of admitting what’s up or lying and waiting to be caught again.

The suspense is killing you and you can’t take the embarrassment anymore.

Shamefully, you come clean.

You sigh with your head down, your eyes land on your painted and now dry nails.

“It’s you.”

“What’s me?”

You look at him and explain.

“It’s just, you’re too…”

You try to find the right word to best describe your explanation but fall short when you realize there’s really no other way around it.

“Perfect.”

Marc is yet again amused, but confused.

“I’m... too perfect?”

You groan in frustration.

“Yes! You and Steven are too perfect. Like, the other day, he was literally just reading and I thought he was the most smart, and sexy, beautiful person ever.”

Steven makes a short-lived appearance to show his thanks.

“You really think that?” He shyly asks.

You smile. “Of course I do.”

“And what about me?” Marc chimes.

“I think you’re cocky. I give you full marks for that.” You muse.

He rolls his eyes and you hold the urge to say ‘sassy’.

“I thought you were the man for me when you made a list and memorized it just for me.”

Your confession is heartfelt and doesn’t fall upon deaf ears.

Marc’s lip part in awe and his eyes shine with appreciation.

“I also thought it was hot when you grabbed the keys and cart before I could even think about it.”

He raises an eyebrow at that.

“It was hot?”

You shrug, not knowing he’s just trying to boost his own ego.

“Yeah. I like it when you take initiative.”

He nods to himself, pondering about what else he takes charge in that attracts you.

“So, what about in the bedroom?”

You look up at the ceiling and can’t believe you walked into that.

“You really know how to suck the fun out of everything, don’t you.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively and you laugh at the stupid notion.

Yeah, you deem he’s the one for you.

[auren-zagarra]

can i request azul with his possessiveness (slightly yandere(?) if you okay with that) towards his shy fem darling in her first time? maybe rough if you comfortable with that? thank you🐙🌹

tentamenta et blanditias

Content Warning: Yandere!Azul x F!Reader, sex, loss of virginity, possessive sex, jelous sex, MDNI

Characters Count: 9883

The human voice is a singular gift - the very foundation of connection and expression. Without it, the world becomes slower, more distant; words written cannot hold warmth and gestures often fall short of what the heart longs to express. You, however, kept your voice hidden, as though it were something sacred. You moved through the world with quiet grace, speaking sparingly, your silence more eloquent than most conversations. It wasn’t that you had nothing to say - it was simply that you chose not to offer yourself so freely. And Azul adored your shyness, the way your gaze would falter and your cheeks would burn under the weight of attention. He knew how quickly you turned inward when overwhelmed, how instinctively you fled to the only place that ever felt safe - his arms. And he was proud of that. To him, your silence was not a barrier - it was a quiet, unspoken promise that your voice, your trust, your softness, belonged to him and him alone.

So many eyes followed you - hungry, covetous, and far from innocent. Their gazes lacked honor, their intentions anything but pure. But Ashengrotto saw it all, and he would not allow such creatures to linger near what was his. Let him take care of you, handle those who dare imagine they could ever compare to him. For Azul knew -  without arrogance, but with certainty - that none of them would ever be honored to touch you. None of them would ever come close to knowing the depth of what you shared, the intimacy that bloomed quietly but completely between you and him. He smiled as his eyes traced the delicate curves of your form, laid bare, naked before him. You tried, shyly, to hide yourself, but Azul gently captured your hands, refusing to let you retreat. "There’s no need to hide from me…". He understood shame very well - however, you were just too perfect.

His lips trailed from your mouth to the delicate slope of your neck, lingering there like a prayer whispered in devotion - or obsession. His hands ghosted over your skin  as though he feared you might disappear if he didn’t memorize every inch. But beneath the softness, there was hunger - raw, ravenous, brutal. He had waited so long… too long. And now, you were finally his. The moment he had craved with a patience that bordered on madness had arrived: to become one with you, to bind your soul to his in the most intimate, irreversible way. It was no longer just a fantasy. It was a divine defilement, the most exquisite sin. And he knew that no one else had touched you. No one else had tasted what was meant only for him. That untouched part of you… that sacred, unspoiled purity… it drove him mad with longing. Could you blame him? Could you fault him for wanting to ruin you beautifully, completely? To mark you so thoroughly that no man would ever dare dream of you again? Your breath caught as his lips descended lower, until he buried himself where you were most vulnerable. There, he worshiped you not like a saint, but like a sinner. There, he found his own sanctuary.

His tongue moved with slow precision - each motion claiming over what he now considered entirely his. That hidden, delicate place  never meant for anyone but him. You were his forbidden fruit, ripe and trembling beneath his touch, and now, at last, he was tasting the sweetness he’d longed for in silence. Your body betrayed you with each shiver, each stifled sound, and Azul watched, studied every twitch and every gasp. Those soft, broken moans you tried to bite back only made his hunger strong. Did you still not understand? There was no need to hide from him. He wanted those sounds - he needed them. He absolutely needed to hear you fall apart so completely, to consume every single moan that escaped from your lips and rebuild you - shaped only for him and the shape of his own dick. Every sigh, every desperate movement etched deeper into his soul. And with the flick of his tongue, he dragged you closer to the edge, refusing to let you fall until it was on his terms.

The friction - once overwhelming - now felt like a mere tease, a spark too small to match the inferno building within you. Your body pulsed, slick and desperate, aching for more - and Azul saw it all. Every quiver, every helpless twitch under his touch, every moan - it delighted him. With a soft hum of approval, he deepened his focus, tongue moving faster now, no longer teasing, but demanding your own climax. He played with that sensitive spot with a deliberate and practiced ease, motions coaxing your body closer to the edge as his fingers joined the symphony, sliding into you with precision and purpose. And when you finally reached your peak, trembling and breathless, that lewd, broken moan slipping past your lips like a confession, Azul paused only to drink in the sight of you.

Completely undone. Beautifully vulnerable. His.

But this was only the beginning. With careful movements, he stood, peeling away his clothes with a quiet elegance, as though unveiling something sacred. His body, pale and lithe, now bared to the moonlight - after years, he finally carried his body with no shame, only pride. Azul approached you again, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he hovered over your weakened form. But before he could press further, before lust could reclaim him, he leaned in and kissed you. It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t greedy. It felt so genuine… Like he was savouring a dessert served by the gods. You kissed him eagerly, letting your lips linger against his in a quiet echo of all that had passed between you. When the kiss faded, your eyes met his. Those eyes… Something in them made you want to trust him completely. To hand over the pieces of yourself you’d never dared to share.

Finally, he slipped inside you - slowly, deeply - until there was no space left between you, no breath unshared. The heat of your body enveloped him like a silken trap and Azul let out a low, strangled breath, his entire frame trembling with the force of restraint. He had imagined this moment too many times, dreamed of the feeling of being joined with you so intimately it nearly drove him mad. And now… now it was real. The warmth, the tightness, the sheer rightness of your body accepting him - it was more than he’d prepared for and there was no going back. His movements started slow, but with every thrust, control frayed at the edges. He wanted to savor this, to make it last - to carve it into both your bodies as something unforgettable. But the way you gripped him, the way your body trembled beneath his… it was taking control from his sick mind way too quickly.

You clenched the sheets, lips parted in gasping moans as you tried to surrender to the pleasure and not the ache that lingered in your core. The sting was real - but so was the overwhelming sensation swallowing it whole. Little by little, the discomfort faded, replaced by a tide of ecstasy that dragged you deeper with each thrust. Your moans rose unbidden now and Azul soaked in them like a man starved. You were no longer trying to hide your beauty - you were his. The bed creaked beneath you, the room filled with the sound of skin and heavy breathing. The male’s eyes never left yours, even as sweat clung to his skin, even as his pace grew faster, deeper.

Azul was drunk, utterly intoxicated. Not with wine, not with beer, but with you. With the heat of your body around him, the sounds spilling from your lips, the way your soul seemed to tremble beneath his every thrust. He was high on lust, yes - but beneath that was something far more potent, maybe even selfish. Pride. No contract had been signed tonight/ no ink, no parchment. And yet, this moment, this act between you was more binding than any formal agreement. Flesh to flesh, soul to soul - this was the true seal, the mark that couldn’t be broken. And even if your heart someday strayed, even if your voice no longer whispered his name with affection, it wouldn’t matter. Because you could never take this from him. No one else would ever touch you like this for the first time. That memory was eternal. His claim was eternal. And if he had to earn your love over and over again, he would. With grand gestures, glittering jewels, silken clothes, whispered promises… or with this - you beneath him, gasping, breaking.

That thought - the twisted fantasy of you loving him again because of how well he could make you feel - sent a wave of heat crashing through his body. His pace grew faster, harsher, more desperate, as if trying to mold your body to his, as if he could burn this memory into your skin. He felt you tightening around him, your breath hitching, your thighs beginning to tremble. He knew you were close and the knowledge snapped the last thread of composure he had left. He moved frantically now, chasing your climax like it was the answer to everything, and, when you finally cried out his name, back arching, mouth open in a moan that echoed like a confession, he followed - falling with you into sin and painting your insides with that beautiful white fluid. He held you tightly as he spilled into you, burying his face in your neck with a groan that trembled like a vow - because what could possibly be more romantic than losing yourself completely inside the one you swore you’d never let go?

Azul withdrew from your body, his breath was still uneven, his skin flushed. Without a word, he collapsed beside you, his hand immediately reaching out to brush sweat-dampened strands from your face. He looked at you like you were something delicate, breakable… and entirely his. Your features were still touched by the afterglow: flushed, dazed and breathless. He knew he had led you down this path - this place of carnal desire. And though part of him mourned the loss of your untouched innocence, he couldn't help but feel victorious. You’ll never need to worry, dear: Azul will be the only man you’ll ever need in your life.

[honey-crypt]

slowburn elliott x farmer please please please please... (falls to my knees) strangers to mutuals to friends to lovers (explodes)

i only ask for angst to comfort and a lot of romantic tension go crazy w this if u feel like it

a/n: y'all... i present to you... my magnus opus... 3 days of work... maybe 50 or so hours dedicated to this... please... please enjoy

wc: 10.1k

features: slow burn (strap in), mentions of war, strangers to lovers, romance that will make you melt, minor spoilers for year 2 of sdv and sdv expanded, elliott cries a lot, imposter syndrome, elliott is a SAPPY SAP OF A MAN WHO LOVES YOU LOTS, i pull from my own sdv worldbuilding/elliott lorebuilding for this

summary: a box of cereal. the spirit eve's maze. a rowboat's maiden voyage. these are just a few moments that define your love story with elliott.

★ chapters in a story called life - an elliott x farmer slow burn piece ★

Chapter 1: First Encounters

A well-manicured hand reached out for the box of cereal at the same time as you, calloused knuckles brushing against your hand. In one swift motion, the hand plucked the last cereal off the shelf. You let out a surprised gasp and whipped your head towards the cereal thief, “Hey!” you exclaimed, ready to reprimand them but your words fell short at the sight of the individual in question. 

Long fiery red hair draped over their shoulders and emerald eyes bore into your soul, as the cereal thief adjusted their grip on the box, “I apologize,” their voice hummed out at a warm baritone pitch, “You seemed… to be struggling with getting the cereal box. I wanted to assist,” the man, at least you assumed them to be a man with their chiseled jawline and overall physique, handed the box of cereal over to you, “Apologies for any miscommunication, I simply wished to help,” his word choice was eloquent, unnecessarily eloquent. 

“Oh, uh,” you took the cereal box and dropped it in your shopping basket, “Thanks.”

“Of course,” the stranger flashed you their pearly whites, “Have a pleasant day,” he walked off to the next aisle in Pierre’s General Store. You looked back at your box of cereal then went about your merry way, finishing up your grocery shopping for that week. 

Chapter 2: Run-in at the Beach 

The local fisherman Willy ordered a bundle of parsnips from your farm and you were able to harvest them today, your first of many orders set for delivery. You tied up the sack of parsnips with a pretty red ribbon and dropped them in your bag, ready to make the trek through town to deliver your vegetables and produce. 

After running through town like a headless chicken and delivering orders to the likes of Pierre, Gus, and Jodi, you crossed over the bridge and onto the beach. Despite living in Pelican Town for almost a week, you never stepped foot on the beach until now. The ebb and flow of the waves greeted you, as you approached Willy on the nearby pier. The old fisher released his rod back in, no fish on the hook, when he saw you walking up, “Ahoy, (Y/N). I take it that yer got me order of parsnips?”

“Yes, sir!” you gave him a salute and pulled out the sack of parsnips before handing it over to Willy, “Hope they’re up to your standards.”

“If yer anything like yer dear old grandpa, I’m sure that these parsnips will be golden,” the fisherman reassured you with a belly laugh, “Here’s a few extra G for yer troubles. Go get yerself a nice drink at the saloon later,” he placed about 500G in your hand, “I best be gettin’ back to fishin’, you have a good day, alright?”

“Thanks, Willy, I’ll do my best,” you gave Willy a nod before exiting the pier. Stepping back on shore, you inhaled a fresh breath of sea air and stretched out your legs, sore from running around for so long. You were about to make your way back to town when you noticed a familiar redhead by a fire pit to your right. The redhead sat by the fire pit, a towel beneath him and his shoes set aside. The sea breeze ruffled his ponytail, as the man peered silently out into the ocean. 

I shouldn’t bother him, you reasoned with yourself, He seems busy. You turned your heel towards the cobblestone pathway, only to hear the redhead call out to you, “Oh! Hello, there!” Shit, okay, now I have to talk to him. You turned your attention back on the man on the shore, “Er, hello there.”

His eyes fell onto your delivery bag, “Ah!” he broke out into a smile, “The new farmer we’ve all been expecting and whose arrival has sparked many a conversation,” you made your way to his side and plopped down next to him, “How did you know that I’m the new farmer?”

“Your bag sports your farm’s name,” the man pointed to the embroidered letters on your grandpa’s old bag, clearly showcasing the name of the farm. Your face warmed up with mild embarrassment and you quickly fanned your cheeks, “Oh, yes… makes sense,” Yoba, I’m so- ugh! Silly? Yeah, I’m silly and trying not to make a fool of myself in front of such a… handsome? Yeah, he’s handsome, alright. Handsome man. Okay, please stop yapping-

“We briefly met at Pierre’s earlier this week but I never had the opportunity to introduce myself,” the well groomed man broke you out of your internal monologue and extended a hand to you, “I’m Elliott. I live by the little cabin on the beach,” the man- no, Elliott- gestured to the cabin behind the two of you, its exterior weathered from the elements, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You eyed his hand and grasped it, surprisingly rough to the touch. The two of you exchanged a handshake, as you introduced yourself to Elliott, “I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Chapter 3: Writer’s Block

You stood outside Elliott’s cabin, clutching a bag of freshly grown potatoes in your hand. Another day, another round of deliveries; at least, you got to deliver to a friendly face. You knocked on the door, only for it to slowly creak open. Cautiously, you entered the cabin and called out to the redhead, “Hello? Elliott, are you home?”

The cabin was surprisingly under-decorated and somewhat shoddy, a lone bed in the far corner of the room with a piano beside it. In the corner closest to you, Elliott hunched over his desk, the sound of pen scrubbing echoing throughout the cabin’s old walls. You called out to Elliott once more, “Elliott?” he perked up at the sound of your voice, “Ah! (Y/N)!” he rose from his desk, “What a surprise to have you in my…” his voice trailed off, “…humble abode! What do I owe the pleasure of your visit to?”

“Just dropping off your order,” you set the bag of potatoes on the closest available space, “Whatcha doing?”

“Oh, the usual,” hummed Elliott, “I’m attempting to narrow down how to address this one scene in my novel.”

“You’re a writer?” you raised your eyebrows, trying to see if you can catch a glimpse of his work. Elliott hovered by his desk and brushed a few loose papers over his work, “Yes, yes I am. It’s a bit of a funny story, but I actually moved to Pelican Town to pursue my writing career.”

“Oh, really? How come?” you asked.

Elliott placed his hands on the desk and leaned on it for support, “I supposed a life of solitude would impose some… literary genius upon me, like the great Ernest Hemingway. Yet, I’m at a standstill—�� he cleared his throat, “Well, in all honesty, I’ve been at a standstill for the past two or so weeks with this one scene and I’m afraid that I’m losing steam.”

You frowned, “Yikes, that really sucks,” you moved closer to the writing desk, “Maybe you need a fresh set of eyes? Like a new perspective.”

Elliott’s eyes twinkled at your suggestion, “A most excellent idea!” he hurriedly gathered up his notes and shoved them into your hands, “Alright, the scene I’m at an impasse with is when Clara confronts Horatio about his late lover. I’m not sure if I should go with a tame heart to heart or something along the lines of a miscommunication gone awry.”

You read through the passages, familiarizing yourself with Elliott’s work. He wrote in a style similar to the aforementioned Hemingway, but his vivid imagery and passionate dialogue left you with a sense of awe and a desire for more. You got to the scene Elliott was stuck on, thumbing between earlier scenes and scanning the pages. Finally, you spoke up and suggested to Elliott, “Given Clara’s kind demeanour and Horatio’s sensitivity, I would go with the heart to heart option.”

Elliott broke out into a grin, “Splendid! You’re absolutely right!” he grabbed the papers and set them back on the desk, “Many thanks for your assistance, (Y/N). I truly appreciate it.”

“Of course,” you flashed him a smile and a thumbs up, “Happy to help.”

Chapter 4: The Flower Dance

You stood by the assortment of refreshments and finger foods, nursing a glass of sparkling cider. Every few minutes, you would mindlessly adjust your flower brooch or take a sip from your glass. Laughter and chatter filled the air, as the residents of Pelican Town joined the day’s festivities. 

You scanned the crowd and found Elliott by the river, standing beside Leah and talking about something, Probably art. Not wanting to remain idle for another moment longer, you made a beeline towards the pair of redheads and greeted them nonchalantly, “Hey, Leah. Hey, Elliott.”

“Hi, (Y/N)!” the artist returned the greeting while Elliott waved at you, “Good day, (Y/N). Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“As much as I can without dancing,” you hummed, finishing off your glass. Elliott nodded, “You make a good point. This is the Flower Dance, there’s not much planned beyond dancing.”

“Speaking of dancing, are you two dancing with anyone?” you asked the pair of redheads.

“We’ll be dancing together like we did last year,” answered Elliott. For some reason, your chest tightened at his response, but you brushed it off as allergies. Elliott fixed his tie, “We best be on our way, Leah. The dance will be starting soon.”

“I’ll catch up with you in a sec!” replied Leah, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I wanna chat with (Y/N) for a bit.”

“Okay,” the writer smiled at the two of you, “It’s always a pleasure to see you, (Y/N), and Leah, I’ll be in the main area whenever you’re ready,” he walked off without another word, as you stared longingly at his fading figure. Leah nudged you in the side, “You should dance with him instead.”

“I should?” you blinked, “But you two already agreed on dancing with each other.”

“I don’t mind passing the torch to you,” the artist nudged you once more. Yet, you shook your head and answered, “I rather not. I’m not much of a dancer anyway.”

Leah puffed out her cheeks and exhaled before stating, “You two would make a cute couple.”

You eyed Elliott in the distance and mulled over Leah’s words, “You think so?” you found yourself smiling in unison with Elliott, as the writer engaged in light banter with Willy. 

“Yeah,” the artist nodded, “I think so.”

Chapter 5: Drinking Buddies

Friday nights at the Stardrop Saloon were always the most rambunctious, at least two thirds of Pelican Town packed inside. You entered the saloon, hungry for a meal after a long day’s work, and saw a familiar figure in a blue shirt and suspenders. Elliott turned his head and grinned at the sight of you, “(Y/N), my friend! Please, have a seat with me.”

You took a seat beside Elliott at the bar, “Hey El,” the writer’s grin grew in size at the nickname, “You enjoying your Friday evening?”

“Absolutely,” answered Elliott, “Well, I must admit that it has gotten better since you arrived. It’s always a joy to see you.”

Your face heated up at his words, but you brushed it off with a laugh, “You’re sweet.”

“Of course,” the writer responded. Elliott then waved Gus over, “Hello, Gus, my friend! May I have two beers?” to which the bartender nodded, “Two beers, coming right up,” and poured two pints of beer from the tap, “Enjoy!”

“Thank you,” the redhead slid over some G to pay for the beers, enough leftover to provide Gus and Emily with some solid tips. Elliott passed one of the beers to you, “For you.”

“Why, aren’t you generous?” you chuckled, happily accepting the beer. You clutched the pint tight in your hand and Elliott raised his up towards you, “I propose a toast,” the writer announced. You held yours up, “To what?” you asked. Elliott smiled, “To our friendship.”

Your heart skipped a beat and your expression nearly soured- you weren’t sure why, though- but nonetheless, you nodded in agreement, “To our friendship,” and clinked glasses with Elliott. 

As the night went on and after a few more beers, you and Elliott were completely hammered. You could hold your liquor, of course, but the sight of Elliott merrily dancing and humming a tune made you break out in laughter and let loose. He’s cute when he’s silly. 

Chapter 6: Dance of the Moonlight Jellies 

You returned to the pier for, what local scientist Demetrius referred to as, an ‘utmost special occasion’. The occasion in question? It happened to be the annual event where moonlight jellyfish would visit the pier. You had vague memories of experiencing the event when you were a little kid with your grandpa, you remembered the fond look he had when the jellyfish would pass by.

You approached the edge of the pier near Willy’s shop and noticed Elliott looking out into the sea with that same longing look you saw the first time you properly met the tall redhead. Gently, you tapped him on the shoulder, “Hi, Elliott.”

“Oh, hello, (Y/N),” his tone was much more… serious? No, it was somewhat sad. You frowned, “What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited for the jellies?”

“I am,” he responded, as the summer breeze ruffled his ponytail, “I’m excited to the point of grief,” your frown deepened and you questioned Elliott, “What do you mean?”

Elliott scooted over so you had more room to stand, you stood by him while he explained, “We pollute the world so much, (Y/N), especially here with Joja… I see Joja CDs and Colas washed up on shore all the time and I fear the worst,” his eyes glistened with pain, “I fear that we won’t see these magnificent creatures unless we take action and hold Joja accountable for their actions.”

You let out a low hum of agreement, it reminded you of your days at Joja Co. and the stories you heard from your coworkers about the higher ups bypassing environmental protections with some hush money. It was part of the reason why you left Joja, other than the fact that it was sucking the life out of you. The day you left Joja Co. was the day you freed yourself from the chains of society. Just like Grandpa wanted. 

“I’m sure we can,” you offered reassurance to Elliott, “I believe in us, I believe that we ultimately make the right decision.”

Elliott nodded, “Thank you, (Y/N),” he looked back at the ocean, “I hope so.”

You were about to retort when Lewis announced that the event was starting, turning your attention to the mayor. Lewis released the little boat towards the sea, you watched with bated breath for the jellyfish to arrive. Your hand brushed against Elliott’s, as the town witnessed the Moonlight Jellies appear. Elliott’s pinkly slowly reached out for yours, you timidly locked pinkies with the writer, as you enjoyed the sight of the beautiful jellies. 

Maybe, one day you’d have the courage to hold his hand. 

Chapter 7: Roadblocks 

Elliott was a no-show to your weekly outing to the Stardrop Saloon and it left you concerned. He was always so punctual and he always told you ahead of time if he couldn’t make it to an event. You worried that he was sick so you left the saloon and headed to the clinic. 

The overhead bell in the door chimed when you entered, signaling your arrival to Harvey. The town doctor gave you a wave, “Hello, (Y/N),” he greeted you, “How are you today? Are you feeling unwell? Injured?” 

“No, no! I’m okay!” you explained, “I was just wondering if you had any over-the-counter medicine. I think Elliott might be sick.”

“Oh!” the doctor let out a relieved sigh, “Well, I’m glad you’re well. Let me see what I got in stock,” he left the waiting room of the clinic and after a few moments, Harvey returned with a box of medicine, “I have this generic medicine in stock. It should help with most symptoms of illness.”

“Thanks, Dr. Harvey,” you handed him some G, to which Harvey gave you the medicine in exchange, “Have a good one.”

“You, too,” the doctor replied, as he put the G in the front desk’s cash register, “And remember to stay healthy! I’m here if you need anything.”

You flashed him a thumbs up and exited the clinic, heading off to Elliott’s cabin with a determined step in your stride. Upon arriving at the cabin, you knocked on the door, “Elliott?” you called out to your friend, “Elliott, it’s me. Are you alright?”

You heard shuffling and slowly, the door creaked open to reveal a dishevelled Elliott. His usual tan was replaced by a washed out pale, as if he hadn’t stepped outside his cabin in days. He sported heavy eye bags and an exhausted expression, “Hello, (Y/N)…” the writer rubbed his eyes, “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“This hour?” you blinked with bewilderment, “El, it’s 5pm. What time do you think it is?”

“Oh, dear,” he let out a weary chuckle, “I must have the times mixed up. I apologize, but I should go back to work. I’ll be free to chat another day,” the redhead proceeded to shut the door, but you stopped it with your foot, “Elliott,” your voice was strained with worry, “You missed our saloon hangout. You never miss an event without telling me,” you held up the medicine, “So I was worried that you got sick… I got you medicine.”

Elliott gawked at the sight of your worried expression and the box of medicine, “Oh, (Y/N), I apologize… I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m not sick or anything, I just have been so wrapped up in my work that I lost track of time.”

“Elliott,” you pushed the door open with your foot, desperate to reach out to your friend, “When’s the last time you got any sleep? Yoba, when’s the last time you went outside?”

Elliott’s freckled cheeks turned red at your questions, “I, er…” he stepped back and allowed you passage inside. The inside of the cabin was dimly lit, minus the light at Elliott’s writing desk. His trash can was overfilled with crumpled up papers, broken quills, and empty bottles of ink. You set the medicine by his nightstand and asked Elliott, “How long have you been writing?”

“I lost track of time,” he answered, taking a seat at his desk. Elliott took out a fresh quill and bottle of ink, dipping the quill into the ink and writing. Yet, the quill snapped and the man who prided himself on his elegance let out a stream of curses. He shoved the papers aside and laid his head on the desk, utterly defeated. You frowned deeply and placed your hand on Elliott’s back, rubbing it tenderly, “El… Talk to me. What’s been going on?”

A soft sniffle reached your ears, as Elliott lifted his head up and exposed his watery eyes to you, “(Y/N), it’s awful. I’m awful!” he turned his body towards you and hugged your waist, “I can’t write for- I can’t write for shit, (Y/N)!” his cursing caught you off guard, but you made no comment, as the writer continued to lament, “It’s been almost two years and I haven’t completed this damn book! I- I-” he buried his face into your shirt and sobbed, “I want to give up, (Y/N). I want to throw it all away.”

You held the back of Elliott’s head in your hand and stroked it, as the redhead cried his heart out. Yoba, how it broke your heart to see him in such… agony. You remained silent while he cried, wanting to give him time. Soon, the sobs subsided and Elliott pulled away from you, his cheeks stained with tears, “I- I apologize,” he looked flustered, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Hey,” you cupped his face in your hands and playfully squeezed his cheeks, “You’re my friend- Yoba, you’re one of my best friends. You’re allowed to lean on me for support, you’re allowed to cry in my presence,” you released your hold on his cheeks, “I’m here for you.”

Elliott sniffled and wiped away any remaining tears, “You truly are my muse,” he mumbled under his breath. Your chest tightened at his comment, “Huh?” you asked. Elliott’s eyes widened, not realizing that he made that comment aloud, “Oh, uhm- Apologies, it was nothing.”

“Oh,” you did your best to hide your disappointment. Maybe I misheard? “You need a break,” you changed the subject, “You can’t keep pushing yourself when you’re so low on steam,” you gave the writer a pat on the shoulder, “So how about you change your clothes and meet me outside, okay? We’re going to the saloon.”

Elliott nodded in confirmation, “That sounds like a marvelous idea. I’ll just be a moment,” he got up from his writing desk and walked off to his dresser. You took that as your cue to leave the cabin, wanting to give the redhead privacy to change. Although, I wouldn’t mind looking- you smacked your cheeks together, Hey! Don’t think that! You then proceeded to leave the cabin, not wanting to be consumed by thoughts of seeing your best friend naked.

Chapter 8: Spirit’s Eve

Jack-o’-lanterns and other spooky decor lined the pathway into the town square, as you entered Pelican Town for Spirit’s Eve. You dressed up as an old-timey sailor, a simple but classical costume. The town square was buzzing with chatter and the occasional creak of… skeleton bones? You peered out into the distance and sure enough, there were two skeletons in a cage. 

To your surprise, one of the onlookers happened to be Elliott, dressed up in a costume that resembled the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland. I didn’t realize he was into the spooky. You waltzed up to him and tapped him on the shoulder, “Hey, El. Enjoying the display?”

Elliott whipped his body around to face you, his face deathly pale, “Er, I don’t believe I am enjoying the display,” he leaned in and whispered in your ear, “I mean to alarm you, but I think those are real skeletons.”

You stifled back a snort, “Oh, yeah?” you eyed the skeletons, as they shuffled about the cage, “I think so, too.”

Elliott audibly gulped and appeared to be on the verge of fainting, “Oh, dear. I think I may need a drink. Care to join me?”

“I would be honored,” you replied. The two of you walked off to the assortment of fall-themed foods and drinks. Elliott grabbed himself a glass of pumpkin ale while you got some apple cider. He slammed the drink back in one or two gulps and exhaled in satisfaction, “That hits the spot,” he poured himself another pumpkin ale, “I needed something to take the edge off after seeing those… creatures,” he shivered. 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a scaredy cat,” you hummed, taking a sip from your glass of apple cider. Elliott pouted, “It’s perfectly reasonable to be cautious around creatures of the undead,” he protested to you. In exchange, you let out a snort and stated, “It’s okay to be a scaredy cat.”

Elliott rolled his eyes and took another swing of his ale, “I’ll prove to you that I’m not a scaredy cat!” he proclaimed. You eyed him up with curiosity, “Oh, yeah? How so, tough guy?” his cheeks were flushed at your usage of tough guy and he responded, “By completing the maze! I hear that it’s especially spooky,” the redhead pointed to the maze in the distance. He was right, it did look especially spooky. 

“Wanna make this a bet?” you offered to Elliott. The writer’s eyes twinkled with excitement, “Depends on the bet, all I ask is that there’s no skinny dipping involved. You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I had to do that.”

Oh, I can imagine, “First one to finish the maze gets an IOU from the loser,” you proposed the bet to Elliott, “Other than skinny dipping,” you added on. Elliott flashed you his signature smile, “That sounds wonderful,” he finished his ale and discarded the glass in the washing bin, “One, two, three, go!” the writer sprinted off, leaving you in the dust, “Hey!” you yelled, trying to finish your cider as quickly as you could so you could run after him. 

Soon, you found yourself in the dreaded maze, thick but neatly trimmed bushes towering before you. You passed by a few other townies in your quest to complete the maze, such as Harvey and Abigail. After confronting a few dead ends, you were positive that the area where you found Sam in had a way. The blond mentioned something off about the nearby bush, perhaps that was the key to beating Elliott.

Footsteps echoed throughout the maze, as the man in question showed up behind you, “It appears that we’re tied,” he stated, “Yet, there also appears to be another dead end.”

“I don’t think so,” you beckoned Elliott to follow you. You approached the bush near the left side of the maze and patted around the area. Your hand suddenly slipped through an opening in the bush and you grinned, “Found it!” you immediately ran through the opening, Elliott hot on your heels. You weaved and bobbed through the terrain, laughing up at a storm. 

However, you failed to notice a tree root on the path and tripped over it, barely twisting your body in time so you landed on your back and not your face. Elliott couldn’t stop himself in time and promptly fell on top of you, slamming the palms of his hands into the ground so he didn’t crush you under his weight. Time seemed to pause, as you and Elliott locked eyes with one another, so painfully close. Your eyes drifted down to his lips and you swore that he did the same. You were so close, you were so very close. 

“Are you okay?” Elliott asked, as he pushed himself off the ground and back onto his feet, much to your disappointment. You were so close, “I’m okay,” you answered. Elliott then extended a hand to you and pulled you up from the ground, you stumbled a bit but Elliott caught you in time before you could fall again. Yoba, he was so warm and gentle, it was as if you were hugging a teddy bear.

“Be careful,” he told you, “I don’t want you to get hurt,” your heart fluttered at his words, “O- Okay,” you stammered a bit, “I’ll try not to.”

“Let’s try to finish the maze,” the writer released you from the embrace. You nodded in agreement and the two of you resumed your journey through the maze in silence. Finally, after what felt like hours, you two arrived at the end of the maze, where a treasure chest laid before you. Elliott gestured to the chest, “You should have it. After all, you were the one who found the opening that got us here.”

“Are you sure?” you questioned the writer. He gave you a smile in confirmation, “I’m positive.”

You approached the treasure chest and opened it, pulling out the prize. It was a golden pumpkin! Oh how it shined so beautifully under the moonlight. You showed the golden pumpkin to Elliott, “Look here! Isn’t this neat?”

“Very neat!” he laughed, “What a wonderful prize,” the writer then pointed to a nearby mine cart, “I believe that might be our ticket out of here.”

You hopped into the mine cart and noticed there was enough room for you, “Wanna ride with me?” you asked. Elliott shook his head, “No, it’s alright. I’ll take it when it comes back.”

You did your best to hide your sadness at his rejection and responded, “Alrighty… I’ll see you later, then,” you activated the mine cart and rode back to the outside of the maze. You considered waiting for Elliott to come back, but ultimately decided against it. You needed to go home, you needed space… so you left.

After some time, Elliott returned to the outside of the maze, eager to see you. Yet, to his surprise, you were nowhere to be seen. He frowned upon the realization that you left early and went over to grab his bag so he could leave, as well. As Elliott left the festival, his bag’s zipper opened a bit, revealing a small bouquet of flowers nestled inside. 

Chapter 9: My Muse 

Things were tense between you and Elliott ever since the incident in the maze during Spirit’s Eve. Each time you would hang out or see one another, the air would be… off. Yet, neither of you would address it, much to the annoyance of Leah, who happened to know both sides of the story and was sworn to secrecy about the crushes. Poor Leah, oh how she just wanted to slam you two’s faces together so you could make up and make out. 

You knew that Leah was right, though; you had to confess sooner or later, but the idea of getting rejected by Elliott consumed any confidence you had about asking him out. Nonetheless, you bought the bouquet from Pierre’s, the traditional gift used to ask a person to be your partner in Stardew Valley. You kept the bouquet fresh with water and plant food, not wanting it to die out before you could give it to Elliott. 

You weren’t sure how this crush started nor how it flourished to the point where your mind was plagued with Elliott almost everyday. Does he feel the same or am I just a dumbass for wanting him to feel the same? That was the question on your mind since Spirit’s Eve. 

You left your farmhouse early one morning and found the flag up on your mailbox, indicating that you had mail. Setting your scythe aside, you headed over to the mail and opened it, collecting the letters inside. You thumbed through the letters, seeing one from Pierre and another from Jodi. However, you stopped when you saw a letter with all too fancy handwriting and a red wax seal on it, Elliott wrote me a letter? you carefully opened the envelope and read its contents.

Dearest (Y/N),

I’m delighted to announce that I finally finished my novel, Camelia Station! I would be the utmost grateful if you were to attend my book reading today, at 3pm in the library. If you can’t, I understand. You’re a busy person, after all. Nonetheless, I hope you can come.

— Elliott 

You grinned ear to ear at his use of ‘Dearest’, he wrote like a Victorian noble. Your eyes darted to the words underneath Elliott’s signatures, eyes wide as you read.

P.S. I have a surprise for you. 

A surprise? your mind ran through all the possibilities of what it could be, Could it be him confessing to me? you shook your head, Maybe not… but this is a good chance for me to, though. You looked down at your watch and set an alarm for a quarter to three, plenty of time to get from the farm to the library. With that all out of the way, you then went about your chores for the day. 

After hours of hard labor, your alarm went off. You ran into your farmhouse and wiped off any sweat or grime from your body, spraying yourself in body mist to conceal the smell. On your way out, you grabbed your bag and the bouquet, neatly tucking it inside the bag. 

By the time you arrived at the library, most of the town was inside, presumably for Elliott’s book reading. Yet, the man of the hour was nowhere to be seen. You scanned the room and found Leah near the front, so you slid up beside her, “Hey Leah,” you adjusted your grip on your bag, “Have you seen Elliott?”

“I did earlier,” she answered, “I think he went to the bathroom, but he’s been gone for a while.”

“Can you hold this for a second? I’ll go find him,” you passed your bag off to Leah and made your way to the bathroom. You entered the bathroom and found Elliott by the sink, gripping down on the porcelain. He was muttering something under his breath, you couldn’t make out the words, “El?” you touched his back and he nearly jumped out of his skin, “(Y/N)!” he exclaimed, “Oh, dear, you gave me a fright!”

“I knew you were a scaredy cat,” you jested. Elliott rolled his eyes, just like last time you brought up his tendency for fear. You moved next to Elliott and leaned against the sink, “Why are you hiding in the bathroom?” you asked. Elliott lowered his gaze and mumbled, “I… I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” you rested your hand on his shoulder and squeezed it, “It’s your big day. I know you’re gonna do great. Everyone’s here to support you,” the redhead looked back at you, “Are you sure they’re not here to witness my demise?” You stifled back a laugh at his melodramatic question, “I promise that they’re not here to ‘witness your demise’ or anything of the sort.” 

“Promise?” he asked, his tone similar to that of a small child. You held up your pinky, “I promise,” and intertwined pinkies with Elliott. The redhead smiled weakly, but nonetheless, he was ready to perform. With you trailing behind him, Elliott entered the main area of the library and greeted everyone with his good old Elliott bravo, “Good afternoon, ladies, gentlemen, and folks! I’m ever so honored to have you all here to celebrate the release of my book, Camelia Station.”

As Elliott babbled about his journey with writing his novel, you returned to your spot with Leah and watched with a fond twinkle in your eye at your friend. Elliott took one last deep breath and announced to the crowd, “Before I read the first chapter, there’s something I need to say…” his eyes fell on you, “I wish to thank my muse… (Y/N),” your heart began to pound like a bass drum, “Without them, I wouldn’t have completed this book. Through every hardship and challenge I faced with this process, (Y/N) was my shining light. I dedicate Camelia Station to them, so please... give them a round of applause.”

The library erupted in applause, but it was white noise to you, as you stared at Elliott in awe. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and your hand grew clammy, as you slowly melted from the writer’s sweetness. His muse… I’m his muse.

The applause slowly died down and Elliott seized the opportunity to begin the reading, “Chapter One… Your ticket, sir? Ticket collector Gozman extended a gloved hand towards the young commuter. Ah, yes. I have it right here, he replied, reaching into his coat pocket. Mortified, he discovered that the ticket was missing…”

You listened with a keen ear to Elliott’s reading, mesmerized by his storytelling. The way he switched voices for each character, the vibrato in his words, the detailed imagery transported into the world of Camelia Station. Elliott was talented, but most importantly, he was having fun with his book.

By the time Elliott finished the chapter, a few townsfolk left the library, most likely returning to their daily responsibilities. The remaining audience applauded the writer for his reading and Elliott took a bow, “Thank you, thank you! I will have signed copies for sale at the front. Once again, thank you for coming, everyone!”

You hovered by the front of the library, watching silently while some individuals like Emily and Gus bought a signed copy of Camelia Station from Elliott. Once the crowd dispersed, you approached Elliott and flashed him a cheeky grin, “See, I told you that there was nothing to worry about.”

“You were right,” the writer replied, “Most times, you are right,” you scoffed mockingly, “Most times?” to which Elliott gave you a little nudge, “You do think sea cucumbers are a lovely fish when in actuality, you’re very very very wrong.”

“C’mon! They’re just little guys!” you huffed, much to Elliott’s amusement. A comfortable silence then fell upon the two of you, as you stared into one another’s eyes. Elliott’s pupils were big as saucers, you were positive that yours were, too. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” you rested your hand against your bag, the bouquet so close to your person. With pink tinted cheeks, the redhead answered, “I meant every word.”

“Elliott…” your mouth grew dry with nerves.

“(Y/N)...” the writer whispered.

Time stopped, as you pulled the bouquet out of your bag. At the same time, Elliott pulled out an identical bouquet from his own bag. Neither of you moved or spoke, you could only stare at the opposing bouquet. Soon and in unison, you and Elliott bursted into laughter, loud enough to get a scolding look from Gunther. 

You two finished your laugh fest and smiled at one another, “Wow,” you let out a soft laugh, “We really had the same idea, huh?” the redhead nodded, “It seems so.”

“Guess that means we’re dating?”

“Well, I did have a sonnet for you to highlight your passion, beauty, and kindness, but yes, we are dating.”

Chapter 10: Feast of the Winter Star

The fall season went by in an instant and brought the snow and frigid temperatures of winter. You and Elliott had been dating for a while when the Feast of the Winter Star rolled around. 

To your surprise and joy, Lewis mailed you earlier in the season that Elliott was your secret gift receiver. Part of you wondered if Lewis did that on purpose, but given how he handled his relationship with Marnie (you unfortunately found them in a compromised position in the bushes by the bridge in town), you highly doubted it. 

Despite Camelia Station’s completion, Elliott was already on his next book, a mystery called The Blue Tower. You thought it to be fitting that you gifted him a glass dip pen; he was strict about his writing instruments and never used a laptop, despite its ease and functionality. Hopefully, this was a good compromise. In addition, Marnie’s poor ducks would no longer have to suffer with Elliott’s weekly trips to the ranch for duck feathers. I think those ducks might be afraid of Elliott now. 

The Feast of Winter brought families, friends, and lovers together in the beautifully decorated town square. The lamp posts were lined with tinsel and a thick evergreen tree stood in the center, decked out in various ornaments with a big shining star on the top. You searched the bustling square for Elliott and found him with Gus and Leah, enjoying a glass of cranberry wine.

“Surprise,” you hugged Elliott from behind and whispered in his ear. He yelped and almost dropped his wine, “Oh! (Y/N), my love! You scared me!”

“Told yah,” you cooed, “You are a scaredy cat.”

“I concede,” sighed Elliott, “I am a bit of a scaredy cat.”

“Good enough for me,” you released him from the hug and pecked him on the kiss. You then turned your attention to Leah and Gus, but they were too absorbed in conversation. Well, at least, Gus was, as he enthusiastically lectured Leah about his various techniques for cranberry sauce. Leah, on the other hand, appeared half-sleep, but managed to have perfectly timed head nods to fake engagement.

“By the way,” you perked up at Elliott’s voice, “I have something for you,” he handed you a somewhat heavy box, neatly wrapped in red paper and secured with a golden bow, “I’m your secret gift giver!”

“What a coincidence!” you giggled, as you held out your gift to Elliott, “I’m yours,” the two of you shared a laugh and Elliott mused, “Perhaps the mayor had a part in that.”

“I doubt it,” you responded, “He’s–” you felt Lewis stare daggers in your back, as if he could hear what you were about to say, “He doesn't seem like the type to meddle in romance or romantic relationships,” you looked down at your gift, “Why is this kinda… heavy?”

“Open it up, my dear, and you shall see,” stated Elliott.

“Only if we do it at the same,” you requested and Elliott nodded, “It’s a deal.”

Together, you and Elliott unwrapped your gifts, you more so ripped through yours while Elliott was meticulous with his unwrapping. Before you, there was a black box, you opened the box up and gasped at the item inside, “You didn’t!” you exclaimed, proudly showcasing the gift to the world, “You got me the Polaroid camera we saw at the antique shop in ZuZu City!”

“I did!” replied Elliott, “You looked so happy when you saw it and you mentioned how much you wanted to get back into photographing your life, so I had to get it,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Anything for my muse.”

“You’re sweet,” you chuckled, “Now, look at your gift!”

Elliott opened the thin, white box and nearly choked on his own saliva at the glass dip pen. He carefully removed the pen from the box, a beam of rainbow light shining from the glass, “Oh, (Y/N)... this is one of–” he cut himself short, “No, this is the most beautiful and thoughtful gift I have ever received,” he gave you another kiss on the forehead, “You spoil me, my dear.”

“You haven’t seen the best part yet, turn it around,” you informed Elliott. 

He turned the pen around and read the engraving, “It says…” he squinted, “The Spirit of the Valley,” he seemed a bit confused by the words and you elaborated to him, “Your writing and you, Elliott, are so deeply connected to this valley. You brought life with your writing to this valley. You brought life, joy, and peace to me. You are the spirit that’s ingrained in me and this valley.”

Elliott sniffled, tears pricking the corners of his gentle emerald eyes, “You, my muse, are intertwined with my very being. I would be utterly lacking in life’s blessings if you weren’t here,” he pulled you into a deep kiss, your hands finding their way through his long fiery hair.

“Uh, guys?” the sound of Leah’s voice interrupted the kiss, “Too much PDA.”

Chapter 11: The S.S. Granger

Spring flew by as fast as it came. You tended to your farm, interacted with those in Pelican Town, and partook in the festivities. Your first spring was one full of unknowns and uncertainties but now, you finally felt like you were part of the town and the valley. You got some good use of the camera Elliott gifted you during the Feast of the Winter Star, photographing every precious moment. Your favorite photo was the one Leah took of you and Elliott dancing at the Flower Dance. 

Soon, summer followed the peaceful spring weather with thunderstorms, heatwaves, and… green rain? Yeah, green rain happened. Only in Stardew Valley, huh? It took half of the season before nice sunny weather came and it happened to be the same day you received a somewhat cryptic letter from Elliott.

My darling,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. If you are available, please stop by the beach before noon today. I have something spectacular to show you. 

– Yours truly, Elliott 

Elliott didn’t know, but you cherished every letter he sent you, even though they were  somewhat cheesy. You went back inside your farmhouse and opened your dresser, grabbing the ornate box you kept Elliott’s letters in and placing it inside. Your eyes darted up at the wall clock, the time being around 11am or so. I need to get to the beach!

You made your way to the beach, exchanging greetings with the passing residents. When you stepped on the bridge, you noticed a man with a short crew cut and camo leaning against the bridge and admiring the river. You smiled at him, “Hi, Kent.”

The man in camo flinched at your greeting and you frowned. It was only last spring that Kent returned from the Gotoro-Ferngill War and he wasn’t adjusted yet, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” you apologized.

Kent shook his head, “It’s alright,” he ran a hand through his hair, “Just a reflex.”

“Gotcha,” you nodded. You eyed the river and asked Kent, “Enjoying the view?”

“I am,” he answered, “Water is… calming.”

“Agreed,” you hummed, “Well, I’m off to the beach, but I hope you have a nice day.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” replied Kent, “I wish you the same,” you bid farewell to Kent and resumed your walk to the beach. 

You soon stepped foot on the beach, as a crisp summer breeze blew through the air. You sighed with relief at the cold sensation, it was a hot summer day. Feeling energized, you scanned the beach for Elliott and found him standing outside his cabin. He broke out into a grin when he saw you, “(Y/N)! My love, I’m so glad you’re here!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you laughed, embracing Elliott. The two of you held the other as tight as you could, “What’s the surprise?” you mumbled, voice muffled by your face in Elliott’s chest. Elliott released you from the hug and responded, “You’ll see,” he intertwined his hand with yours and led you to the pier. In the center of the pier, a rowboat bobbed against the waters. 

Elliott gestured to the boat, “I finally fixed up the old rowboat outside my cabin… with Willy’s help, of course. I’m not much of a handyman but I did give it a fresh coat of paint,” you examined the rowboat with intrigue, its mahogany coat glimmering under the sunlight. You noticed some cursive on the hull of the boat, “S.S. Granger?”

“Named after my high school English teacher, Mr. Granger,” the redhead explained, “He was the one who lit the spark of creativity and my passion for writing,” he smiled sadly at the boat, “We kept in touch after I graduated high school, but sadly, he passed away from cancer when I was finishing up my bachelors’ at East Ferngill University.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you gave Elliott’s arm a squeeze, a sign of support, “I’m sure he would be proud of the man you’ve become.”

“I hope so,” the writer sighed. Elliott shook off his melancholy and hopped onto the boat, extending a helping hand out to you, “Care to join me for its maiden voyage?”

“Of course,” you grasped Elliott’s hand and boarded the rowboat. You took a seat across from Elliott, who grabbed the oars and began rowing farther into the Gem Sea. The pier faded into the distance, as Elliott rowed the boat. By the time he stopped, you could only make out the silhouette of Stardew Valley, “Wow,” you were starstruck, “You can see the whole valley from here.”

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” the writer shuffled around a bit in his seat, “Although, I prefer the beautiful view right before my eyes.”

“You’re cheesy,” you snorted. Elliott shrugged his shoulders, “I would rather be cheesy if it means bringing a smile to your face,” you playfully nudged his arm, “You’re gonna make me melt.”

“Oh, my dear, don’t do that just yet,” Elliott cleared his throat, “I have another surprise for you,” you tilted your head with wonder, “Oh? You do?”

“I do,” the writer stated. He then secured the oars in the boat and began to recite, "Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate… Rough winds do shake the darling buds of Spring…”

You leaned in closer, entranced by your boyfriend’s words, as he continued, “And summer’s lease hath too short a date… Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines… And often is his gold complexion dimm’d… And every fair from fair sometime declines…” 

The world around you two came to a standstill, “By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d… But thy eternal summer shall not fade… Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st… Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade…”

You leaned closer and closer into Elliott’s space, you could inhale his sweet pomegranate perfume, or in his words, his eau de parfum, Elliott was always a stickler with his words. He stared into your eyes, your soul, as he finished the sonnet, “When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st… So long as men can breathe or eyes can see… So long lives this, and gives life to thee.”

“Ellie…” you whispered. The writer smiled, “For the first time in my lifetime, I was at a loss for words and it was the moment I laid eyes on you at Pierre’s. You took my breath away, my love. It was only fair to share it with you in the form of one, if not, the greatest love sonnets.”

“Ellie, what are you saying?” you watched, as Elliott pulled a small, velvet box from his pant pocket, “(Y/N),” his tone was deep with emotion, “My muse, my love, my darling, my dear. I have a thousand names for you but,” he pulled a velvet box from his pants pocket, “Will you do me the highest honor and allow ‘spouse’ be one of those names?” Elliott slowly opened the box and inside, there was a Mermaid Pendant.

You covered your mouth and muffled your scream of delight before calming down enough to answer, “Yes! Yes, Elliott, I will marry you!” you embraced the redhead, nearly tackling in the process. You kissed Elliott deeply, the flames of love and passion exploding like fireworks. In that very moment, everything in the world- no, everything in the universe- was simply perfect.

Chapter 11: Wedding Bells

You fidgeted with your Mermaid’s Pendant, as Marnie and Emily added the final touches to your wedding outfit. Once they finished your outfit, you promptly walked off from the mirror in your farmhouse and began to pace around the farmhouse, “Oh my Yoba, what if he changes his mind?” you spouted off your worries. 

“I highly doubt,” answered Leah, your person of honor, “If he dares to even think about leaving you at the altar, I’ll knock some sense into him,” she held up her fists, “And I mean knock some sense into him.”

“Thanks, Leah,” you sighed, relieved. Emily, a member of your wedding party, approached you with your bouquet, a small one made of summer spangles and sunflowers you grew on the farm, “You are gonna do great, (Y/N)!” she reassured you, “I’m manifesting it for you, you will do great.”

“Thanks, Emily,” you chuckled, “I can always count on your manifestations.”

“Are you ready, dear?” Marnie asked, “It’s almost time.”

“I’m as ready as I can be,” you answered. 

You exited the farmhouse with Emily, Leah, and Marnie; the four of you making way to the entrance of the beach near Cindersap Forest. You gripped the bouquet tightly, your chest just as tight with fear. Marnie stood beside you and held out her arm, you relaxed the hold on your bouquet and locked arms with Marnie.

“You’re such a gorgeous marrier,” the rancher told you, “I’m so honored to be the one who passes you off, I hope I do your parents’ duty proud.”

Your parents couldn’t attend the wedding, your father being overseas fighting in the Gotoro-Ferngill War and your mother on the other side of the Ferngill Republic with her responsibilities at the hospital she worked at. You responded to Marnie, “You’re like a mom to me, Marnie. It felt right that you would be the one to hand me off.”

“And you’re like one of my own, (Y/N),” she retorted. You stared out towards the beach, getting a small sneak peek at the wedding arch. It’s now or never. You gave Marnie a nod and she hollered to the trio of Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail by the entrance, “It’s time!”

“Alright!” Sam cheered, “Let’s rock!” the band launched into the wedding march and you began walking to the beach with your wedding party behind you. 

Before you, the entirety of Pelican Town sat in white fold out chairs on the beach, as you followed the row of fabric towards the wedding arch. Near the front of the crowd, you spotted two familiar figures in a suit and blue dress, your parents. When you passed them, you whispered to them, “You came.”

“We did!” your mom smiled at you, “It took some phone calls, but we didn’t want to miss our angel baby’s wedding,” your dad nodded in agreement, “I can handle Gotoro grunts on the front line, but the thought of missing my only child’s wedding? That’s unacceptable. I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay!” you replied, “It’s a great surprise!” you blew kisses at your parents and continued your walk to the wedding arch. Under the arch, Willy and Gus stood by Elliott as his wedding party. Your soon-to-be husband’s back faced you and once released to the altar by Marnie, you tapped Elliott on the back, “I’m here, honey.”

Elliott turned around and audibly gasped, “My darling! You- You-” tears suddenly formed in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, “Oh, my sweet darling, you look absolutely radiant,” he leaned in to kiss you, only to have Mayor Lewis shove his hand in between you, “Mr. Lovebird! No kissing until I say so!” he proclaimed. Elliott pouted at the mayor’s interruption, but nonetheless, he pulled back. 

The two of you smiled widely at the other, your eyes shimmering with anticipation. Lewis stood behind you and he began the ceremony, “Can all attendees rise?”

The wedding guests rose from their seats and Lewis spoke to everyone, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the love of Elliott and (Y/N). My dear friends,” he smiled at you and Elliott, “This is a new chapter in your lives, from the moment I proclaim them to be spouses to the day you die.”

“That’s the plan,” you mused, earning a few chuckles. Mayor Lewis let out a laugh, “Splendid! Then we should get right into it!” he continued with his opening remarks, but you paid no attention to him, as you found yourself lost in Elliott’s eyes. 

“Now, the marriers will exchange vows,” you perked up at the mention of vows, watching silently as Elliott pulled out a piece of parchment and unfolded it, “(Y/N)... As I mentioned before during our boat ride, I was at a loss of words when I first laid eyes on you,” he recited his vows.

He let out a shaky breath, on the verge of crying again, “And today, I am again at a loss for words. There are no words in our language that can accurately describe your beauty, your strength, your resilience, your passion, your love. (Y/N), I thank Yoba and the forces of the universe that we are here at this moment,” the redhead hastily wiped his tears away, “You are my world, (Y/N). I love you.”

A collection of ‘aws’ and cheers erupted from the audience, as they clapped for Elliott’s vows. You sniffled a bit and blinked back your own tears, “Damn,” you let out a wobbly laugh, “Your vows blew mine out of the water, honey,” you passed your bouquet to Leah and grasped Elliott’s hands, “Elliott, the day I met… I was hella pissed off that you grabbed my cereal.”

The crowd laughed and you added on, “I thought you were a dick for that, but when you explained to me that you only wanted to help… that spark of unprompted kindness lit a flame in me. As I got to know you, I found myself falling deeper and deeper in love with you. From your passion to your mannerisms to your silliness to your determination… Elliott, I can’t picture my future without you. I can’t wait to make a beautiful life with you.”

Another round of applause came from the wedding attendees and Elliott grinned at you, his eyes full of unabashed love for you. Mayor Lewis gestured for the applause to simmer down and once there was silence, he announced, “With the vows now done… It’s my honor to, on this lovely summer day, unite Elliott and (Y/N) together as one,” you squeezed Elliott’s hands, eager to hear the ‘okay’ to kiss.

“As the mayor of Pelican Town and regional bearer of the matrimonial seal…” the mayor stated, as you took a deep breath, “I now pronounce you spouses! You may kiss!” you and Elliott wasted no time when given the ‘okay’ to kiss, as Elliott dipped you and kissed you tenderly on the kiss. Cheers and hollers of joy erupted once more from the wedding attendees in celebration of your new matrimony. 

Elliott pulled you back up and finished the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. He whispered softly to you, “You’re my spouse,” to which you smiled, “And you’re my spouse,” you planted a kiss on Elliott’s cheek, “It’s time for our new chapter, isn’t it?”

“You’re right about that, my dear,” he answered, “The first chapter in our story.”

A new chapter, indeed.

...

...

...

...

...

Epilogue: Remembrance

A redheaded woman in pantsuit stood in front of the orchard, fresh fruit hanging from the trees. Besides her, two small children held each of her hands. The woman heard the sound of footsteps, as a man in farmer overalls and similar red hair approached the orchard, his work boots crunching the autumn leaves. 

“Eleanor,” the farmer greeted the well-dressed woman, “Glad to see you here,” he supported his body against the hoe, “I didn’t think you would come.”

“I may be a busy woman, but I take offense that you doubt my attendance for this day, Elias,” Eleanor scoffed at Elias, the farmer. He shrugged his shoulders and instead commented, “You brought Kenny and Quinn with you?”

“Yes,” answered Eleanor, “I thought they deserved a chance to– Heyo!” a loud voice cut into the conversation, as another redhead appeared. They dressed in casual but neat attire, a flannel wrapped around their waist and their exposed arms displaying some old scars, “Sorry, I’m late! I got held up at my logging site.”

“Late as ever, Echo,” chuckled Elias. With a pout, Echo exclaimed, “Hey! Not my fault that I had to cut down a whole forest after last week’s wildfire!”

“Enough, you two,” Eleanor stated, “Do you have the supplies?” to which Echo and Elias confirmed that they did, “Splendid,” she squatted down to her children’s levels, “Kenny, Quinn… I know this might seem scary, but Mommy’s here to keep you safe, okay? You might not understand it now, but you deserve the chance to see them.”

“Okay, Mommy,” replied Kenny and Quinn. Eleanor squeezed their hands and with that, the group entered the orchard, going deeper and deeper until they made it to their destination. Two gravestones stood proudly in the center of the orchard, a few dead fruits and flowers by them. Echo pulled out a trash bag and collected the dead items while Eleanor and Elias set down fresh pomegranates and sunflowers. 

“Mommy, where are we?” asked Quinn.

“We’re at your…” Eleanor blinked back tears, “These are your grandparents, you were very little when they went to Yoba, but they loved you both so very much.”

Kenny stared out at the gravestones and squinted, “Mommy, what do they say?”

Eleanor read the gravestone engravings aloud, “The one on the left has ‘Elliott Cunnigham’ at the top and below it, it says ‘Beloved Writer, husband, and father.’ The one on the right has ‘(Y/N) Cunningham’ with the words ‘Beloved Town Hero, spouse, and parent’,” Eleanor looked up at Echo and Elias with tears in her eyes, “Can one of you do it?”

“I got it,” answered Elias. He approached Eleanor’s side and grabbed the final offering, setting it down between the graves, “We can go if you want.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” replied Echo. Eleanor nodded in agreement, “Let’s go to the Stardrop Saloon, I think Gus would be happy to see all of us together.”

“Sounds like a great plan,” chuckled Elias. 

With everyone in tow, the siblings and their children left the orchard, leaving the gravestones at peace for another year. The final offering laid still in the space between the burial sites. 

A single box of cereal.

[hanmaitani]

CAUGHT BETWEEN

a shoes that were danced to pieces twisted fairytale...

PAIRING - Prince!Jean Kirstein x Reader x Soldier!Eren Yeager WC - 1.0k GENRE - smut CW - dubcon, threesome, spitroast, implied unprotected sex, oral (m!receiving) SUMMARY - after you've been disappearing from the castle every night, your father promises your hand in marriage to anyone who can figure out where you've been going and bring you home. one lucky soldier finds you've been dancing your nights away with a prince

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

You stared at the soldier in front of you. Terror flooded your system as you watched his green eyes flick down to where the prince behind you still had his hand on your waist from dancing.

“Please, don’t tell me father.” The words slip from your lips before you have the chance to stop them or think of anything more eloquent to say. As the princess you’ve always prided yourself on knowing what you should say and how and when to get the outcome that you want. But if you’re honest, you never expected anyone to find out about this secret of yours.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Eren, the soldier who has just found out your secret asks you as he glares at the other man still holding you.

“Please,” your voice seems to draw out, whiny as you start to panic, “I’ll pay you any sum you want. Please forget you’ve been here.”

“Why would I want some of your money? Your father has promised me your hand.” Eren’s grip on you is sudden and harsh and you gasp as he pulls you towards him. Your gasp is almost as pronounced as the prince steps with you, not letting you from his grasp.

“You can’t have my princess.” Your prince may be shy at times with you but he stands up to Eren with no problem, his chest puffing up as he challenges him. “She won’t marry you when she’s already set to be a Kirstein.” Jean had proposed offhandedly while dancing, and you, lost in the enchantment of the music, had agreed.

“Please,” you beg as Eren ignores the other male and begins to tug you back towards the boats you’d come in on.

“Leave her be!” Jean tugs on you as well, to try and keep you at the pavilion you’d been dancing on.

You whimper as you feel like your body is being jerked back and forth, you’re twisting, panic gripping you when you hear the fateful rip.

It’s like all three of you freeze, turning to look at the source of the sound in slow motion. The corset of your dress having split as your chest spills from its confines. Your first instinct is to cover yourself, but with each arm held by a different man pulling in opposite directions, you’re left unable to do anything but stand there as the two men ogle you.

“H-hey!” You exclaim, tugging on your arms in their grips, hoping that one of the men who has hopes to marry you, also has the decency to let you go so you may cover yourself. Neither do. Your cheeks flush as you tug and twist more, the motions only seeming to intrigue the men more as your chest moves with the motions. “L-let go!”

You’re panting by the time they snap out of their frozen state. “Why would we do that?” It’s Jean, now, who is questioning your requests and your stomach seems to drop.

“Let’s have a competition.” Eren suggests as he stops trying to tug you towards the boats and instead merely holds you in place between Jean and him. You don’t miss how Jean’s eyes light up at the idea of competing with the other man. “Whoever makes her feel better wins.”

“You make her feel better, and I’ll let you take her.” Jean agrees almost instantly, eyes locked on the soldier rather than you.

“You win and I’ll forget that I ever saw her here.” Eren muses, his amusement at the prince’s eagerness growing.

“Wha-what about what I want!?” You exclaim as your eyes dart between the two, your breathing ragged as you wonder what situation you’re now in.

“We’ll give you everything,” Jean replies, his voice smoothe like he’s trying to charm you.

“Everything and more.” Eren agrees, his free hand already moving to unlace the rest of your bodice.

You gasp as hands touch your bare skin for the first time, goosebumps rising across the surface as they undress you right there on the dimly lit pavilion. It feels wrong, but your skin is on fire with every place they touch you.

They touch you in the same way, rough, demanding, each as if they are trying to one up the last touch of the other. It’s overwhelming and dizzying and you’re not sure how to feel anymore.

Especially as Jean sinks into your cunt for the first time, his length warm as he slides you down, keeping you suspended for your head to fall back towards Eren. You’re almost positive that he doesn’t even care about his movements, too busy showing off the blissful look on your face to the other male as he repeatedly hits into your g-spot, fucking into you with the purpose to prove that he is who you should marry.

Eren doesn’t much care for Jean’s attempt at showing off, his own mission clear as he bends you backwards, further away from Jean until you’re bridged between the two men, your mouth at the perfect height for Eren’s hips. Eren’s cock fills your throat with ease, he doesn’t seem to care how it constricts around him as you choke on it, he rather seems to like it.

You’re sure that they can’t even notice how easily you cum between the two of them. They’re too busy arguing over whether you’re shaking from how Jean fucks into your sweet spots or how Eren steals your breath as he tweaks at your nipples.

You’re not even sure if they truly care about who gets to marry you anymore. Both their fingers bump into each other as they rub over your clit, the way both the holes of yours that they’ve filled tighten when they do has them wanting to keep at it no matter how tired your body seems to be getting. And you’re sure that it’s more about who can win over the other. You’re just their collateral.

A/N - short and sweet but <33

TAGLIST - OPEN

@needtoloveoutloud @littleplantfreak @hayatoseyepatch

@awkwardaardvarkforever @s0uldarling @seiri-ously @deepenthevoid @stunies

@little-miss-naill @theycallmenanamisgirl @raven-nevra

[devildomwriter]

Can I Be Your Gentleman? | Mephistopheles x Reader

1.1K | GN! Reader | CW: reader described as beautiful

Mephistopheles took a sip of his coffee as he watched the customers in Café Lament. He was there to investigate any rumors for the gossip article in the RAD newspaper. He preferred writing articles solely rooted in the truth but things were a tad slow lately.

Mephistopheles noticed you out of the corner of his eye and perked up. Wherever you went drama was sure to follow. Not because of you but because your general existence invited powerful demons and chaotic happenings. He grinned, excited to see what would happen and he took out his notepad and pen.

You waited on the couch by the window for a long time, excitedly waiting. After a while he observed the joy fade from your face as you got a text on your phone. His brow furrowed in worry as you hung your head with a crestfallen expression.

He watched you for a moment and glanced around to make sure no one else was watching before he set down his drink and walked over to you to make sure you were alright.

“___,” he greeted stiffly.

“Oh. Hey Mephisto…” you said sullenly and he frowned.

“I couldn’t help but notice your grim expression,” he noted and you nodded, resting your chin in your hands.

“Uh-huh…” you replied and he tilted his head curiously.

Mephistopheles straightened out his coat and sat down on the couch next to you. He set his cane aside and focused his attention on you. “So, tell me what happened?” He prodded.

You sighed, “Looking for another scoop?”

He was taken aback, a little offended, even though that was originally exactly why he’d approached you. “Hardly. I’ve only come to see why Lord Diavolo’s favorite human is in such a sour mood.”

“Gee thanks,” you mumbled and looked away from him.

Mephistopheles frowned and cleared his throat, realizing he needed a more genuine approach. He awkwardly tried to reach out to you but decided against it and retracted his hand.

“What…what I mean to say is…how can I help you?”

You looked back at him, a little confused. It wasn’t like him to offer his help without something in return. “You can go back in time and tell me not to date that asshole,” you said bitterly and he looked surprised.

“I’m afraid that’s not something I can do…probably… but…” he paused and decided he’d listen to whatever you needed to say. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You looked teary-eyed and Mephistopheles pulled out his handkerchief and looked around. He got to his feet and helped you to yours. He motioned to a staff member and took you to a back room where you could privately let out your emotions.

“Thanks,” you said sadly and he wiped your tears with his handkerchief. “Why did I ever give it a shot…I didn’t think it’d last but…I hoped…we’d have a fun time at least and then maybe…” you stopped talking to prevent further upset and he placed his hand on your back and scooted his chair closer to yours.

“A winter fling, then?” He questioned and you shrugged.

“I dunno…I just thought…actually…I don’t know what I was thinking,” you whimpered and he pulled you into his side.

Mephistopheles’s face flushed, he wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt so protective. He cleared his throat to buy himself time to find the right words. “I see…well…I am a demon, so…would you like me to do something about this?”

You paused, giving it genuine thought. “Maybe…but not right now, I’m not thinking clearly.”

Mephistopheles nodded, approving of your decision. “Very smart, ___. If your ex can’t see that then they’re a most foolish human indeed.”

You chuckled at his eloquent manner of speech and nodded, “Yeah, you’re right. Ugh…honestly though…” you frowned. “Who dumps someone right before Valentine’s?”

Mephistopheles was startled, he’d completely forgotten about the human holiday. No wonder the brothers had scrambled to give you chocolates, no wonder you were so upset, no wonder you were dressed so beautifully…he blushed at his last train of thought.

You were beautiful no doubt. He looked away and removed his hand from around you to gently hold your hand.

You looked up at him, surprised by his increasingly genuine actions.

“Well, I suppose that means you’re free for the holidays then?” He asked and you nodded glumly.

He got to his feet and outstretched his hand to you with a nervous but serious grin, “In that case, ___, would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you as your date this Valentine’s?”

You blushed more deeply than him as he tried to remain serious and unflustered. Mephistopheles was a major step up from anyone you’d dated in the past, but not only that, for once he was being himself around you because he cared enough to be more vulnerable. That touched your heart and you grinned and wiped away the last of your tears.

You took his hand and nodded, “I’d love that.”

Mephistopheles cleared his throat again and straightened his coat. “Right. Excellent. Then tomorrow? I’ll have the limousine pick you up at 5:00.”

“A limousine? Awesome!” You exclaimed and he looked confused for a moment before remembering you weren’t anywhere near as wealthy as him.

“Yes. I know exactly where to take you, but I want it to be a surprise,” he said. In truth, he had no clue and would spend the day agonizing over the perfect location. “I’ll send you the proper attire by 4:00, that should be enough time to prepare, right?” He asked.

You were suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed, but more than that you were excited. You nodded, “Yes! Yes, I can’t wait!” You beamed and hugged Mephistopheles tightly.

Unused to this kind of attention, Mephistopheles stiffened and slowly patted your back as he looked away to avoid you noticing his reddening blush.

“Thank you so much Mephistopheles, you really can be the perfect gentleman.” You blurted out and Mephistopheles arched one brow.

“Hm?” He asked as he analyzed your words.

You gave him another squeeze hoping he’d not pay attention to your slip of the tongue. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, text me okay?” You grinned and he nodded and opened the door of the back room for you.

The staff were quick to see the big difference a few minutes together had had on you. Once crestfallen, you now radiated excitement and they were left to speculate why.

It didn’t take long for rumor to spread about what had happened in the back room and Mephistopheles was quick to shut it down so as not to sour the beginning of what would be a beautiful relationship.

[doumadono]

can i ask for endeavor eating his gf out

SINFUL SUNDAY

Enji's skilled tongue worked with astonishing swiftness, while his calloused fingers deftly opened your entrance. Your arousal, akin to the slow, sensuous cascade of melting ice cream, trickled down, and he pursued every drop with the tip of his tongue. In this intense moment, he was utterly immersed in his senses, every fiber of his being fixated on you.

Endeavor could hear the soft, desperate panting escaping your lips, a symphony of your pleasure filling the room. He could witness the sinuous dance of your body, caught in the rapture of his expertise. Every movement, every arch, and every quiver of your form spoke volumes to him, an eloquent testament to the overwhelming sensations he bestowed upon you.

Sensations deepened as he felt your skin grow warm and slick beneath his ministrations, a shimmering sheen of sweat and a pulsating heartbeat that echoed in his fingertips. Yet, above all, it was the exquisite aroma and flavor of your essence that consumed him. The intimate taste of your ambrosia was the most precious elixir, a feast for his senses that left him intoxicated and utterly captivated by the symphony of your pleasure.

Enji had spread you open wider and delved his tongue into your wetness. Moving up, down, left, and right, he explored you blindly. Creating moist, heated circles with his tongue, he sensed your thighs quivering and your rear clenching.

"Just like that, Enji," you encouraged him, slipping one of your hands into his hair.

Suddenly, your back had arched as he touched that spot of pure arousal and passion with his tongue. The feverish rubbing of your fingers over your clit had paled in comparison to the way his starved tongue had connected with your clit. Its sanctuary had felt like a nook designed by the divine for his tongue. You had shuddered and moaned. You had wanted to cum? Not yet.

Todoroki had slid his tongue into your pussy and had literally drunk the fluid out like a thirsty animal. He had been fucking you with his skilled tongue and nuzzling your clit, just barely brushing it with a slow rhythm while he had dug his tongue as deep and hard as it would go into you.

Your tight pussy had squeezed against Enji's tongue, pushing it out instinctively, only to guide it back to your aching clit. The strokes against it had quickened, yet remained steady, applying just the right amount of pressure to avoid any raw sensations. His aim had been endurance, but his own intense desire to please you had outpaced the capabilities of his mouth.

The washings of his tongue had proven almost too much for you to bear, and your legs had involuntarily squeezed his head in sheer pleasure. Todoroki's ears had burned, and the excitement had caused him to release precum into his fitted shorts. You had reluctantly released his head from your legs, only to use your hands to press Enji firmly into your moist lap. Instead of air, he had happily breathed in the silky flavors of your pussy.

"Oh God, Endeavor," you had whined, your body still spasming from the overwhelming pleasure.

Enji had bitten your thigh, using it as a way to distract and punish you. His movements were precise, driven by his desire to control his own pleasure. He began by tracing his tongue along your extended clit in wide, arcing motions, soothing it before gradually transitioning to the area of your hood. With a narrow tongue, he circled it in tight, tantalizing circles. Enji had no intention of leaving you in this moment.

As he worked his magic, you barely noticed the finger caressing the outside of your buttocks, sliding up and down your crack in perfect sync with his passionate kisses. Todoroki's tongue made a sudden leftward dart, changing direction to keep you on your toes. He then lifted his head to blow a sweet breath across your clit, prompting your hand to make a second feeble attempt to satisfy your desires.

"You're quite the minx, darling," he chuckled darkly. Enji interlocked his hands with yours, pulling them down towards your thighs, urging your hips to thrust into his face. The sensation of his tongue, hard and fast, against your slit made you moan with pleas for release. Those whimpers were his reward for prolonging your ecstasy. He continued to work his tongue vigorously against your clit before it slipped into your heated cunny, tongue-fucking you while humming lowly.

In a matter of seconds, you climaxed, tensing and shuddering as you came, your thick juices gushing out of your pussy. A primal scream escaped your parted lips as you rolled your head back, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that washed over you.

[foibles-fables]

❤️ Aloy/Talanah

because yes

scribbled this one on a very quick very unpolished whim. @notadrde, you asked for this one as well!

❤️ first kiss / realization

“Oh,” Talanah breathes when they finally break apart.

Is that a good thing, or a bad thing? Aloy can’t tell. Talanah’s eyes are wide and her pupils are glinted by the sunlight and her lips—her lips are still parted. That’s the most her mind, dizzy with self-shock and spontaneous proximity, can really fathom.

“Ah—yeah.” That’s one way to put it. The space between them resonates, echoing the sudden newness of mouth on mouth. Aloy cringes. Glances away. Her hands tremble against Talanah’s waist, but they don’t withdraw. There must be something else she can say—something that expresses how hard her heart is knocking in her chest, something for the way her cheeks are set aflame—but all manages to pry out is: “Yeah.”

Somehow the lack of eloquence doesn’t send Talanah on the hunt for an escape. Quite the contrary, she frames Aloy’s face with her hands, gently coaxing eye contact. Her gaze shimmers like high noon cast over rippling water. 

Her smile is—a little bit sad.

And she says, “I’m so sorry.”

Aloy’s throat goes thick and sour. Regret courses in—so many optimistic assumptions and impulse proven wrong. Proven foolish. There it is: the dread, the falling ax, the pale-shadowed urge to tear back and flee. 

Which she would, if it wasn’t for the sweep of Talanah’s thumbs over her cheekbones, the sound of her soft but desperate voice.

“Wait. No.” She reads the silent hurt in Aloy’s eyes and corrects herself, suddenly more flustered than Aloy’s ever known her to be. “Please. I meant…I’m sorry I never knew.”

Sunflares dazzle. Time lost resounds with all the ways this could have gone, if. Regret, set in a different framing.

Aloy gets a breath. Feels herself turning towards one of Talanah’s hands. Mouth-corner nudges against the base of her palm as she admits, with the new benefit of self-aware truth, “I wasn’t very good at showing it.”

“Neither was I,” Talanah replies. 

Then she laughs, quietly. Aloy leans in without thinking. It’s the first motion of a bow, of a grovel, a nod of long-coming recognition. 

With that one tiny motion there’s almost no space between them for breath.

Forward, forward.

Talanah’s hands slip slow and smooth to the crook of Aloy’s jaw, fingers curling around her nape.

“I’d like to make up for it,” Talanah murmurs, backbone-throbbing, “if you’ll let me.”

Aloy answers without words, without any need for them.

EDIT: Now on AO3!

[slutforsilverfoxes]

This song came on my shuffle while I was cleaning so therefore I am not responsible for this heinous crack 🙃 But also, sorry in advance 💀

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!BAU!reader established relationship (+ a feature by two of the BAU hooligans)

__________

“We really couldn’t fly into a closer airport?” you grumble under your breath, forehead pressed against the cool window of the Tahoe as a seemingly endless expanse of cornfield flies by in a blur.

Hotch uses the rearview mirror to glance at your sour face, raising a single eyebrow in challenge. “And where, pray tell, is this closer airport you speak of? Hiding amongst the corn?”

“Hiding amongst the corn?” you mimic in a childish tone, and he grunts in response although the corner of his mouth twitches with mirth.

“It was almost better when you two were keeping things under wraps,” Derek chimes in from the passenger seat. His long legs allowed him to claim shotgun while you and Emily were relegated to the back. Dave, JJ, Garcia, and Spence were in the vehicle behind you, much to Penelope’s chagrin about being thwarted from “napping on my sturdy hunk of Derek,” as she had so eloquently put it.

“To be fair, you chose to ride with us,” Aaron comes to your defense, and you pipe up with a vindicated, “Yeah! Thanks, babe.” You lean forward to press a kiss to his cheek and he frowns at you, pulling a pouty, “What?” from you in return.

“Sit back and put your seatbelt on,” he chides gruffly, and you can hear the unspoken brat that would’ve been sure to follow if you were alone.

“Fine,” you huff in feigned annoyance, settling into your seat and clicking your seatbelt in place.

The car is silent for a few minutes save from the wind whipping past, then you lean towards the center console and ask, “Can we at least listen to music?”

Emily perks up at that, pulling her head from the case file in her lap. “Music would be good.”

“Here, Derek,” you offer, sliding your phone towards him. “It’s unlocked so you can queue songs. But if I see you swiping anywhere else, I swear to god-”

“Chill, Y/N,” he laughs out. “Ain’t no way I’m risking burning my retinas with a nude from our boss man.”

“Morgan,” your boyfriend sighs like an exasperated parent while you tease, “Only cause he’s too hot to look at.”

“Please just put some music on,” Aaron groans after your comment, and you can see the back of his neck flushed red through the gap between the seat and headrest.

“Alright, alright,” Derek finally relents, plugging in your phone and then turning to smile at you when he spots a playlist titled AH🖤. “Now that’s pretty cute,” he admits, and you return his grin with a bashful one of your own.

Then your smile morphs into a horrified gasp when his thumb hovers over the playlist, the world seeming to move in slow motion as his finger makes contact with the screen.

Corpse’s gravelly voice instructing the listener to Choke me like you hate me, but you love me blares through the speakers as you shriek in surprise. Hotch jams his palm into the volume knob, mercifully cutting off the music before the next line can assault everyone’s ears.

The car is plunged into silence once more as your face flushes under the delighted scrutiny of one Derek Morgan. Emily, to her credit, remains unfazed (mostly because she’s the recipient of your lascivious texts about Aaron).

“We’re never talking about this again,” you whisper, mortified, unwilling to meet Aaron’s gaze in the rearview mirror. You’re so paying for this when you get to the hotel tonight.

“On the contrary,” Derek counters in an almost giddy fashion, “I just figured out how we’re going to pass the time until we reach the precinct. So, Y/N, are you the choker or the chokee?”

You collapse on yourself, head in your hands as you wail, “I wanna die,” while your boyfriend quietly mumbles, “I’m resigning when we get back to Quantico.”

—————

A/N: For those of you wondering… yes, this song is on my Hotch playlist 🥵

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner @iyv-ray24 @mrs-ssa-hotch @criminalskies

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Wintery Bliss - A Samoth/Reader One Shot Story.

I said I'd write my dream, so here it is. I love when random inspirations hits me, or more accurately, shows up in my dreams and plays with me :D

Words - 1,053

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Outside, a thick fog swirls through the neighbourhood, the temperature falling, winter hanging heavy in the cold air. Inside the warmth of his bedroom, though, a chill is the last thing you experience.  

It was his hair that you first noticed upon meeting him, mid-brown and blonde-streaked, then his eyes, blue eyes that fix upon you as your fingers tangle in that silky, waist-length mane of soft tresses. Each time his tongue presses a little firmer against your bud, your grip tightens, hips shaking, his hands smoothing over your body as his mouth works you languidly.  

The sensation of it rolls through you like quiet thunder over a peaceful sky, circled licks firm, then light, his breath hot against the velvet of your cunt, a quiet grunt gravelling his throat while his hands move to stroke your thighs. Sweet moans pour from you, abs gently quaking, little strikes of pleasure illuminating beneath your skin. Oh, he’s amazing. Even better than you expected him to be. And he knows it.  

“Smug fucker.” 

His smile against your folds grows wider, sucking upon you gently. “Told you I was good at this.”  

True, he did. He’s the furthest thing from conceited, but he did mention it before taking you to bed for the first time, that he had a very skilful aptitude with his tongue. He didn’t word it quite so eloquently, though, instead telling you that he’d eat you until your eyes crossed and you lost your voice from moaning. He’s well on his way to achieving that. 

You hiss on a gasp at the feel of his fingers joining his mouth, stroking at your soaked folds, fingertips gently teasing at your opening before sliding up to hold you spread. Firm, slow licks over your clit send your thoughts to static, your muscles tensing, mewling softly as your head thuds back upon the bed.  

The pleasure of it flays you open, a crack within where light begins to beam through. He adds speed to each lick, the tip of his tongue flickering over your bundle, driving tingling heat over your nerves. Rosy warmth suffuses your skin, flushing, squirming against his mouth, crying out when his lips wrap and begin to suck, your grip within the silk of his hair tightening as intensity crackles through you.

Sparks skiter over your nerves, the slow control now given way to something hungrier, panting against your sex as he eats you fervently, your wet little hole tingling as you drench his mouth. Your voice breaks on his name, his hand clutching tight upon your thigh, flattening his tongue against you, the wide drag of wet heat sending a flare through your blood.  

Keening against his mouth, you writhe, adrift, panting hard as your legs close in around his head, your clit swelling against his tongue as he moves it even more rapidly in unrelenting licks. That grip tightens, his fingers clenching hard on your hips, until you realise that you’re probably constricting him a little too much. 

“Sorry,” you pant, amusement rippling your voice, your thighs slackening. 

He chuckles, winking at you. “I don’t mind. I like it, feeling you enjoying yourself.” Another suck has tingles blooming through you before he sits up, looking down at you with lust-blown eyes, black bled into blue. Your gaze falls to where he undoes his black jeans, excited anticipation stirring to see how hard he is. “I think you’ll enjoy this more, though.”  

Pushing his jeans down his slender thighs and kicking them to the floor, a beautifully thick erection springs free, his eyes fixed on you as he grasps it, steers himself to your slick, rubbing the head over the mess of your sex. He pushes, and you splay around him, gasping, feeling him inching in as he leans to kiss the little sob of bliss from you. 

He sinks back and forth with gentle motion for only a few moments, a snap of his hips sending him deep, forcing a shrill cry from your throat. His lips meet your neck, teeth sharp in a bite clamped on your shoulder, his groan all smoke and salt. The lightning strike of pain melts to pure magma, his mouth claiming yours once more before he shifts back to kneel before you, hands pressing your legs wide, his focus falling to watch his cock sliding back and forth, glossy and slick.

Your walls clench on him, and it sends him deeper, the contours of his cock stoking the fire within, little snaps of bliss skittering through you. Pulling him back to you, your hands sink into his beautiful hair again, kissing him with syrupy heat, sucking his tongue. Bearing down upon you with each roll of his hips into the cradle of your apex, he rests his weight on his forearms, forehead touching yours, his kisses much softer than the onslaught of his cock. 

Frantic thrusts sear into you, the pleasure biting, bliss radiating, your legs locking in a tight clutch around his narrow waist. The warmth of your skin radiates over his, bodies melding together, hands touring as your stroke and clutch at one another, lost to the urgency.  

You want it to last forever, but the ultimate strike of ecstasy gathers like a summer storm, rolling low but with fervid heat, his cock dragging your walls as you arch against him. It ripples at the base of your spine, ascending, the pulsing, slick grip around him pulling him into the storm of it with you, pounding into the flutters as you become completely unravelled beneath him and he fills you with cum.  

Your landscape is forever altered by the fire he fucked into you, smouldered to ashes, panting as the soft of his hair drapes in a curtain over your skin, his head thudding to your shoulder. You lie there floating in dreamy bliss as he stills, fingers stroking swirls over his back, enjoying the gentle bliss.  

You’re stirred by the feeling of him moving within you again, thrusting gently, the slow slide of a cock still deliciously firm, his mouth pressing kisses against your throat.  

“Not done yet?” 

His lips envelop yours, his head shaking. “Not as long as my cock is still hard, no.” 

Outside, the fog still swirls thickly, not unlike the pleasure within the warmth of his bed.  

[fraugwinska]

We are in WEEK 3 - Time flies when you are being fed so well, doesn't it? Here is this weeks schedule (made by our fabulous Hazel) :

Be sure to follow our kinky coven to notr miss out on the DELECTABLE stories that are about to cum come: @hazelfoureyes@minkdelovely@sugoi-writes@macabr3-barbi3@synamartia

The beautiful Syn also created a Masterlist for Kinktober which makes rereading / catching up easier for all you horny deer cultists!

Warnings: Monsterfucking, Blood, Overstimulation, Hard & Heavy Now say it with me: Minors leave or I'll eat you (not the good kind) - 🔞

"Is that how you always imagined you’d try to court me?"

There was something entirely sensual in seeing the overlord of radio acting so nonchalant, given that few demons have seen his full demonic transformation into the fallen angel without whimpering and shivering. Which made it so much fucking hotter that Alastor, in all his naked glory, didn't tremble out of fear before him, but out of blatant desire. In his current state, Lucifer was practically radiating hellfire, more imposing with the sheer span of his three sets of wings and twisting horns as his aura illuminated the dim bayou around them. "That depends. Is it working?" Lucifer purred, with a challenging smirk.

Alastor answered his smirk with a dangerous smile of his own, though, unlike the angels, the look wasn't unhinged. His crimson eyes were glittering and dark with want, tongue lazily licking over his lower lip. "Indeed," he hummed, claws flexing by his hips. The sight was certainly enjoyable, especially with the addition of his large, dripping cock, being visibly as excited as the demon attached to it. It was a gorgeous image, one Lucifer thought he'd never get enough of, the sinfully effortless beauty and seductiveness his most unexpected lover showed off so easily, as if he was the one that was known as temptation personified. "You know by now that I appreciate grand gestures, my star." Alastor stated, and hearing his favorite pet name made the flame between Lucifers horn's explode in sparkles of red and gold.

"Although..." His voice became even more static-y, heavy with white noise as one of his hands leisurely wandered onto his hard length, stroking it with slow and almost examining motions. "This seems hardly to be a fitting throne for your current state, darling." His tone sounded absolutely filthy, for which Lucifer should have known was coming, and he let a deep groan escape him at the provoking display. Even though he knew what would happen, even though they had talked about it... Alastor was nothing but a showman, especially when he wanted to be one. And what a great one he was, making Lucifer's mouth water with hunger, his dick twitch painfully with anticipation and his head dizzy with need.

"Then you should be a good little subject and do something about it, shouldn't you, Al?" Lucifer's tone dripped with desire and wanton, impatient demand, while Alastor laughed quietly in response, bowing to him as his limbs and joints started to crack.

"As you wish, my king." He chimed, rising in his full height. And, oh, Lucifer would never get used to this - to see his Alastor stretching taller and taller before him, two huge, black, curled antlers sprouting from the mess of fiery red hair and his grin turning into a series of knife-like, shining blades, the delicate curve of his backside and usually slender legs expanding into an elongated, towering silhouette. He was so enraptured that, when he finally registered that every extremity became bigger and longer, his breath caught audibly at the sight of the thick, deeply ridged and frightfully intimidating mass of blackened cock, dribbling thick, sticky ropes of anticipating come onto the leaf-cluttered forest ground as he knelt down to him.

"Oh WOW... this is... fuck."

The monstrous form of Alastor laughed, voice going through the entire spectrum of distorted sounds and screeches of feedback.

"Eloquent as always, your highness..."

This was the first time Lucifer had the privilege of experiencing Alastor completely loosened like that, uninhibited and rough around the edges, deliciously close to the border between control and ferality. Large, boney claws wrapped around the entirety of his waist, squeezing him almost possessively as Lucifer felt the searing tip of the other's length prodding into the crack of his ass.

"Now take a seat, mon ange."

That was a challenge Lucifer's dick could wholeheartedly agree with, although his mind felt a bubbling panic when it registered the beginning stretch of his tight entrance, even with the thick, pearly precum lubricating the way. "This - oh fuck - this isn't gonna fit." He moaned when Alastor's free hand raked through his wings, entangling his fingers in the feathers to hold him closer as he ever so slowly pressed forward.

"iT WiLl." 

The words sounded far away and urgent, voice heavily layered with static. Drool was dripping down Alastor's maw, he was so eerily beautiful like this that Lucifer forgot how to breathe as his monstrum of a cock sunk deeper and deeper into him and his hand pulled harder on the angel's wings.

Like so many, infuriating times, he was so very right. After what seemed an eternity, Lucifer's tight rings of muscles snapped together tightly behind his base, so deliciously full that the Alastor couldn't contain the growl that escaped him. This earned a mewled reply as Lucifer melted around the spearing length that spread him to a limit so wide he didn't even think was possible. His spaded tail whipped, curling around the wrist of the monstrous lover that held his waist even tighter now that he was hilted onto him, and Lucifer groaned, closing his glowing red eyes as he felt instincts superseding reason.

"For all that's unholy, Alastor - move!" The booming echo in his voice made the overlord roar, grabbing Lucifer's wings on the roots with both of his massive hands to lift him up and force him down his shaft again. There was no hesitation in the deer demon anymore, just the need, the drive to spear and take his mate and the delicious pressure Lucifer felt of being stuffed so fucking full. What an euphoria, to feel every ridge, every protruding vein, bump and barb dragging along his insides and catching the overstimulated bundle of nerves inside him that made the fallen angel moan in sinful abandon.

"Yessss..." Lucifer hissed, panting heavily as the rough thrusts increased in force, the motion making him bounce on Alastor's dick in a relentless and demanding pace - it had been the best decision, really, to change forms too, Lucifer thought through the thickening fog of his incoming orgasm, because he was damn sure that without the additional angelic energy he'd be ripped and split in half by now. And fuck, fuck if that thought didn't make his whole body burn up and shudder with daring ecstasy. "C-come on, Al. I can take more."

"More."

Alastor seemed to tip over the edge, finally. With almost careless cruelty he pulled Lucifer off him, roaring as he pushed him face first into the ground. Lucifer gasped when his ass was pulled up by his tail, just before the thick girth plunged back into him, shoving his face into the leaf and moss covered floor, muffling his moans, and effectively burying him into the dirt and foliage with Alastor's immense weight and strength as he caged him under his body.

"Mine. More. Mine."

Every word was a merciless, brutal thrust. Lucifer came as the slick mass of Alastors tapered tongue licked over the feathers on his back to his nape just to bite down the sensitive skin, spurting strings of heavenly white and gold onto the bayou floor and leaving smeared smudges of his climax all over his legs and the moss and plants under him. But Alastor did not stop. He wrapped Lucifer's tail once more around his massive hand and drilled into his hole, hard and unrelenting and without mercy for his overstimulated self, chasing the numbing feeling of his own building orgasm.

"My king, mY deViL, MY STAR."

Over and over, pounding and ramming his monstrous member inside, until there was a vicious scream of feedback mixed with his own cries, a surge of sizzling heat and stickiness coating his walls. Still throbbing inside him, Alastors form slowly diminished to his usual self, his lips hot on his neck, his jaw, the side of his mouth as Lucifer tried to catch up to his breath, shivering as his wings retracted back into his shoulders.

"My, what a mess we made of my little creek." Alastor hummed into his skin, his voice gentle and calm now. Lucifer sighed in agreement, the weight of the sinner's mellow caresses on the bruises his demonic self had left behind strangely heavier than the monstrous body he had been trapped under. "Are you quite satisfied yet?"

Lucifer crooned in amusement as Alastor finally pulled out of him, chuckling breathlessly at his disheveled looking lover - the complete opposite of his usual prim and proper self - as he rolled onto his back, cupping the overlords flushed cheeks with a tired but sly smile. "That depends..."

[lainalei-evans]

If you don't mind I'd love to see Benjamin or Garrett(whomever you feel you could write the best) stalking a girl to have her as a meal but he's perplexed because even when there are noises that would alert a normal human she doesn't seem to notice them. It takes a bit of time for him to realize she's deaf, and not only that she's his mate.

I would love for her to be transformed in his voice be the first thing she hears in her new life! 🥰 I appreciate anything you can do!

✦ Even in Silence ✦

⤷ Pairing. Garrett (Twilight) x fem!reader (human turned vampire)

⤷ Genre. gothic romance + slow-burn + soulmates + silent devotion + unspoken longing

⤷ Setting. deep forest at dusk, worn notebooks on mossy roots, soft wind carrying old secrets, a quiet market square, crimson eyes glowing under moonlight

⤷ Warnings. emotional intimacy that lingers like scent on old parchment, one-sided pining turned mutual, vampire transformation, intense vulnerability, quiet heartbreak before the fall

⤷ Notes. I truly hope I achieved what you had in mind when you made the request. I decided to set it in 1850 and tried to replicate the idioms and speech of that era. Writing it was quite a journey because the historical period and its way of speaking were really challenging, but I hope I did a good job with it.

⤷ Word count. approx.1241 words

⤷ Tone. quiet, poetic, mournful yet warm; filled with reverent tenderness and the kind of silence that aches

⤷ Rating. 13+ — light angst, implied vampiric themes, emotional intimacy, non-graphic transformation

⤷ ⭑ Synopsis:

He found her in the forest, alone and unaware of the predator watching. She couldn’t hear him. And that very silence — that unexpected stillness — was what kept him from vanishing.

Instead of hunger, he felt something older stir in his chest.

What began as distance turned into letters.

Letters into glances.

Glances into devotion.

Garrett never meant to care for her.

But when death came too soon, he chose the only path that would let him remain by her side.

Even if she never heard his voice.

The night was still.

Not silent—for nature seldom falls completely mute—but graced with that particular quiet only found far from human clamor. And it was precisely that which Garrett sought.

He had learned to love a world in perpetual motion: trains, wars, revolutions... Yet now and then, he needed to remember that he was more beast than man.

The scent reached him first. Warm sweetness, with a faint trace of ink and aged paper. A young human woman, alone, wandered among the trees. She followed no trail. No clear path lay before her.

Interesting.

Garrett moved without a sound, a mere shadow among the trunks. He was close enough to make out the shape of her figure, the way her dress swayed in the breeze. But something felt off.

He snapped a branch on purpose.

Nothing.

He let out a brief chuckle, loud enough to startle any living creature.

Not even a flinch.

He frowned, tilting his head. She did pause, yes, but not in response to sound—only to vibrations. She turned when a branch fell nearby, but did not react to whispers or laughter.

He observed her for a long while, his curiosity pushing aside his hunger. Her expression was calm, unaware of danger. She showed no fear, no haste, no attentiveness to her surroundings.

And then he understood.

"Deaf," he murmured. Not with disdain, but with reverent wonder.

She did not hear him. Could not.

Instinct screamed: "easy prey." But something deeper roared in his chest. Something ancient. Something he had never felt.

Her blood. Her soul.

Garrett stepped back. The air thickened. His vision sharpened. The world grew brighter.

"It cannot be..." he whispered.

It was her. His equal. His mate.

And she could not hear his voice.

The paradox struck like lightning. How could fate be so cruelly ironic? He, so fond of speech and eloquence, bound to a lady who would never hear a word.

Or... might she?

---

He did not approach that day. Nor the next.

But he returned, again and again, hidden at a distance. She came often to the woods, sitting beneath a tree, nestled against its roots, her fingers stained with ink as she wrote. Near a clearing where harmless wild creatures sometimes sought shelter. Always alone. Always in stillness.

And Garrett, for the first time in centuries, waited.

He longed to see her.

To understand her.

To avoid frightening her.

---

At first, it became a game. He left notes upon a stone near the clearing where she wrote. Simple phrases, written in graceful script:

"What is your name, fair lady?"

Other times he left flowers, oddly shaped leaves, small natural treasures.

She replied with drawings, smiles, and pieces of honey she never tasted herself, wrapped for her unseen companion.

And after weeks and months of exchange—letters, secrets, offerings—one afternoon, she left a note beneath the stone, damp and wrinkled, with words etched at the bottom:

"I hope that if you ever cease to hide, we may meet face to face... and that you will not be disappointed when you see me."

Garrett felt something like a heartbeat.

And chose to stop hiding.

---

The first meeting was awkward.

He had devoted his days and nights—for sleep did not burden him—since that first encounter to learning sign language on his own.

He waited for a cloudy afternoon and left a final note:

"We shall meet today at the market."

He watched her smile grow as she read the message, and how quickly she rose, taking her basket and heading toward town.

He pretended to step on her hem, just enough for her to stumble, catching her before she could fall. The plan worked: she blushed deeply while in his arms. Once upright, she looked at him, flustered, and reached for her notebook and pen, likely about to apologize.

But Garrett raised his hands and, with clear awkwardness, signed:

Good afternoon, miss. Are you alright?

She blinked, surprised. Then set her things aside, suppressing a silent laugh, and signed back:

Yes, kind sir. Thank you kindly for saving me from a fall.

A soft smile lit her face. She added:

I was terribly curious to know the kind soul in the woods. I never imagined you would know how to speak with me.

Garrett smiled, enchanted.

And deep within, he vowed to learn every gesture of her language.

And so he did.

He spent weeks buried in books, discreetly asking humans without revealing what he was.

He wished to speak to her. Not with hollow words, but with purpose. With intent. To express his devotion. To be worthy of her heart.

---

Their meetings became a custom.

First once a week. Then every three days. Until they were inseparable in the clearing.

They spoke of everything: books, starry skies, insects that seemed to follow their own schedule.

She was inquisitive, sharp, with a silent laugh that vibrated in her chest.

He was patient, attentive, at times unexpectedly shy.

One afternoon, she asked through signs:

Why are you here?

He hesitated. But chose to answer truthfully:

Because when I first saw you, I felt the world held its breath so I might notice you.

She lowered her gaze, speechless. For the first time, she gave no reply.

But the next day, she returned with her pages, pen, and crayons, and showed him a portrait. A self-portrait so vivid, so beautiful, it stole his breath and made him fear his chest might shatter.

---

He did not touch her. He did not seek to kiss her. He would not allow himself.

He desired her with a fervor that shook him to the core.

But his yearning became protection.

And then, an early winter brought her low. A rare illness, swift and merciless.

He carried her to the forest, surrounded by whispers and urgency, guilt gnawing at his spirit.

She looked at him, pale, her breath faint. She had never asked questions, never demanded answers about his aversion to sunlight, his crimson eyes, or skin pale as frost. But now, she needed to know.

What are you...? —she signed, trembling.

He answered softly, without artifice:

A monster. A creature cursed, shunned even by the Almighty. But if you let me... I wish to be yours.

She gave a faint laugh.

You were always mine. From the start. I do not care what you are.

And so Garrett bit her, as gently as his love could manage.

Not out of pity. But because eternity without her would be a torment worse than any hell.

---

The fever lasted for days.

Garrett held her. Spoke to her without pause. Told her stories, recalled every shared moment. He knew she could not hear him. But he believed that, when she opened her eyes, perhaps... she would.

And when it happened...

When she awoke, eyes red as ruby, blinking slowly...

Garrett murmured with deep, trembling emotion:

"My love... I am here."

She remained still. Then brought her hands to her ears and wept. Tears did not fall, but sound broke from her lips, ragged and full of feeling.

She could not speak. Had never learned. So she signed:

That was... —her hands trembled—... was that your voice?

Garrett nodded, his eyes shining.

"And it will always be yours."

I want to hear it again. Always.

"Then you shall stay with me. Forever."

And in the silence that followed—which was no longer silence—she, for the first time in her life, understood what love sounded like.

[quietwingsinthesky]

okay. evie gets hypnotized by jacob on accident take TWO. because the first take. ceased to exist. somehow. if anyone finds that, i’m in your debt but i think it’s just gone forever. anyway evie time.

“I don’t believe you,” and Jacob’s got every right to. It’s a fun story she’s spinning, but Evie has to be pulling his leg. Mesmerism is a load of bollocks invented to swindle idiots out of their pocket change. Evie’s got a fixation on the supernatural, true, but she’s far from gullible.

“I’m telling the truth,” she snaps. “I’d rather it not happen again, so we’re keeping this-”

“You’re worried about a pocketwatch?” Jacob swoops in and plucks it from Evie’s hand. It’s nothing special, shiny and silver and not wound up. Evie jumps after him to try and grab it back.

“Jacob!” He fends her off, holding the watch out of her reach. Evie knees him in the shin, which is a warning for where she’s going to knee him next if he keeps messing with her. He lets the watch dangle from its chain between his fingers and grins at her.

“Come on. You don’t think it’s dangerous in my hands, do you?” Evie shoves him and grasps for the watch, her fingers just barely brushing it as Jacob leans away.

He lets it sway. That’s how they do it, right? Back and forth, follow the watch, you’re getting tired… She’s being ridiculous. “Would you calm down? It’s harmless. Look.” Evie’s glaring at him when her gaze flicks to the watch and locks onto it. Jacob rolls his eyes. “Relax. Nothing’s going to happen. I’m swinging it, that’s all.” Evie follows the motion, her frown melting away. Jacob can see the light from the silver casing glint off of her eyes.

Jacob grins. “Ohh, you’re getting very sleepy,” he teases, in a spooky, soft voice. “You want to do whatever I say, right, Evie?” Evie blinks heavily.

“I… I want to do whatever you say.” Jacob squints at her. Is she playing along? Is she that dedicated to making him believe this? Evie’s eyes drift back and forth, never leaving the watch. She isn’t even trying to grab for it anymore. Her arms have gone limp at her sides.

“Say I’m the better Assassin,” Jacob commands. He just has to push her buttons until she breaks character.

“You’re the better Assassin, Jacob,” she complies. She doesn’t even sound sarcastic, just sleepy. That’s… impressive.

“Hm.” He flicks his wrist to set the watch swinging again. Evie leans closer to it. Every breath she takes is slow and deep. “Say that the Rooks were a brilliant idea- No. Tell me that all my ideas are brilliant.”

“All of your ideas are brilliant,” Evie echoes. Alright. She asked for it.

“And what are your feelings for your dear Mr. Green? Should I expect wedding bells?”

“He’s handsome, and clever, and kind. I always want to be around him. I can’t think clearly when he’s involved. I’m terrified. Father was right. I need to make it stop.” It spills out of her so fast that Jacob doesn’t even have time to protest. All the while, the same placid expression rests on Evie’s face. Her head sways in gentle time with the watch.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

“Uh,” Jacob says, eloquently panicking, “um- Evie- You should- Forget you told me any of that.” Evie nods obediently. “How do I…” It’s the watch, isn’t it? So if he just- He snatches it up into his palm. Evie blinks at the empty air it used to occupy. “Evie?”

“Yes, Jacob?” she asks, in the same tone of voice as before.

She’s not back. Fuck. How does he fix this? He doesn’t even know what he did.

“You know how mesmerism works, or you do when you aren’t…” Jacob gestures at her. Evie doesn’t react. It’s not like her at all, like he sucked everything that makes her Evie right out of her. His stomach is twisting itself into knots. He almost hopes this is still a bad prank, but- Evie doesn’t even seem to know how she feels about Greenie, not when she’s herself. “How do I wake you up?”

Evie stares at him.

Jacob wracks his brain. Silver watches, and assistants in trance, and he’s got to remember something about how to make this stop.

He raises his hand. “When I snap my fingers, you’re going to go back to normal. Understand?” Evie nods. Jacob swallows. “And you’re not going to be-” He stops himself. Can he actually command Evie to not get mad at him for this? Would that work?

If he could do that, what else could he do? Make her see his side of every argument? Get her to admit Father was wrong? He’d be doing her a favor, given how messed up she is about Greenie because of their father’s instruction. He could tell her to forget about the whole nonsense with the Pieces of Eden, come with him and make some real ruckus cleaning up London. He could tell her to loosen up, to be a little more reckless, to do whatever he wants.

He could make her into someone that’s not Evie at all.

Jacob snaps his fingers.

Evie jolts. She shakes herself.

When she looks at him, she’s furious.

And terrified. That’s the thing: now Jacob knows Evie can be scared. He’s never really thought about that before. She’s always been so in control of everything she does that he assumed nothing ever caught her off-guard, nothing she couldn’t handle.

He offers the watch as an olive branch. “I’m sorry.”

She snatches it away so fast that her nails scrape his palm. “I told you it was dangerous!”

“If I’d believed you, I wouldn’t have done it!” he protests. Evie glares.

Nice to have her back, at least.

“What did you make me do?” she demands. She’s gripping the watch tightly enough that her knuckles are turning white.

“Nothing.” He shrugs, but Evie stays put, not believing him for a minute.

You know, if something Father told you is making you miserable, you don’t have to listen to him. He’s not here to stop you. Jacob swallows. Jacob stays quiet.

“What did I do, Jacob?” she says, and her voice is only that quiet when he’s in serious trouble.

“Fine, I-” Evie tenses up. “I made you peck and cluck around like a chicken. I didn’t think it would work!”

Evie groans. Her grip on the watch relaxes, and she drags her hand over her face. “Want to try it on me? Get even?” he offers.

“No.” She shakes her head, exasperated.

She looks down at the watch, made harmless again in her hand.

“That was all?” she asks.

“You were a terrible chicken,” Jacob lies. Evie huffs, the corner of her mouth twitching into half a smile. “You should put that somewhere safe.” Something cold lodges in Jacob’s gut as he remembers how easy it had been. How easy it might be for anyone to get the jump on Evie if they got their hands on the watch. “Or I can take a hammer to it.”

“No, you’re right about most mesmerism. It is all stage trickery. This is something real, and I need to understand how it works.” Jacob grimaces. He’d rather the hammer.

It would be easy to convince her if he…

“Whatever you like,” he makes himself say, loudly. “Just keep it hidden.”

[greenbubblefactory]

Matchup for @ethereal-moonglow

Congratulations you have a match with..

Kaveh !

Kaveh is your match in chaos, passion, and heart. The moment you meet, it’s like watching two stars orbit each other,brilliant, dazzling, and just a little dramatic in the most lovable way.

At first, Kaveh is struck by your aura. You’ve got that business-casual elegance with a twist,your corset days especially leave him a bit breathless (and he’ll tell you so, poetically, in like three different ways). He finds you beautiful not in a distant, lofty way, but in the kind of “you make everyday life feel like art” way. The fact that you’re confident in your body, proud of your thighs and dimples, and experiment with fashion? He adores it. As a designer, he’s always looking for muses. But with you, he finds not just a muse, but an equal,someone who sees the world in vibrant color, in feelings and thoughts and motion.

You, on the other hand, are first intrigued by how intensely he feels things. Kaveh wears his heart on his sleeve. He cries during sad stories just like you do. When you get teary-eyed reading a novel or empathizing with someone else’s pain, he’s right there beside you, not mocking or judging,he understands. He doesn’t see you as “too emotional”,to hi, that’s a strength, not a flaw.

When you're quiet and reserved, especially in unfamiliar social settings, he doesn't push you. He actually appreciates that part of you,it reminds him to slow down, to listen. You speak with grace and eloquence when you need to, and when you unleash your chaotic yapper mode? Oh, he loves it. He’s a yapper too, talking about morality, architecture, psychology, and the philosophy of whether Hilichurls have cultural value. It’s chaos. It’s beautiful. And poor Alhaitham has left the chat.

You’re the type to flirt playfully, and so is he. Expect the two of you to constantly be in a romantic battle of one-upmanship: smooth talk after smooth talk, flirty quips tossed like confetti, all while clinging to each other like you haven’t seen the other in weeks. Your love language is touch and affirmation,his too. You like to be held, praised, and gently guided when your thoughts get tangled and he gives all of that in abundance. When you get distracted, he lightly touches your shoulder or gives you a gentle, fond nudge to bring you back. Not in a “focus up” kind of way, but in a “hey, love, I’m still here with you” kind of way.

And let’s talk about how you both thrive in spontaneity. Kaveh’s life is full of unplanned moments (some of which involve unpaid bills, questionable clients, or waking up with Sumpter Beasts in his blueprints), and while most people judge him for it, you? You get it. You’re not afraid of life being a little messy,you just want it to be meaningful. You would be the kind of partner who reminds him to eat, carries spare pens and snacks for his site visits, and tries to organize his plans a little… even if he then distracts you with a big, dramatic kiss in the middle of your attempt.

He, in turn, spoils you rotten. Custom sketches of you in all your favorite outfits? Check. Flowers from the Bazaar "that reminded me of your eyes"? Check. Whispering poetry in your ear while you’re trying to focus on your book? Double check.

When you talk about complex topics like psychology or moral dilemmas, he’s right there. He might not be an expert, but he will listen, ask questions, and play devil’s advocate just to make you think deeper. The two of you would have long, late-night debates that end with sleepy cuddles, both of you too tired to remember who “won.”

He loves how you care for others,your snacks, medicine bag, the gentle parenting tone. He sees how you soothe kids, scold with softness, and offer love freely. He falls harder every time he sees it. But what really steals his heart is how you don’t hold back affection when you’re in love. You’re all in,and so is he. It might get messy. It might get loud. But it will always, always be real.

In a relationship, he’d match your excitement with his own drama. When you throw your arms around him, squealing about something exciting, he spins you dramatically like you’re the heroine in his favorite opera. When you start doting on him,checking his temperature when he’s tired, brushing crumbs off his shirt ,he melts.

Kaveh can be a bit self-destructive when overwhelmed, and you're prone to over-caring for others before yourself. There may be times you both try to “rescue” each other and forget to rest. But the good news? You two communicate. You’re open. You respect each other’s feelings. That emotional transparency means any storm you face, you face together.

You two are amazing at throwing spontaneous themed date nights. Costume optional. Roleplay likely.

Kaveh is constantly telling you that you should be on the cover of his architectural journals. (You tease him. He’s not joking.)

You steal his long cloaks and capes. He lets you. You look better in them anyway.

You duet together. You’re the better singer,he just adores hearing your voice.

He helps you with puzzles. Badly. He’s smart but easily frustrated. You make fun of him and kiss his nose.

Runner-up Match: Tighnari

If you’re looking for someone calm, clever, grounded, and with a deep love for nature and science (without all the dramatics), Tighnari is your guy. He’d adore your brain, your emotional intelligence, and your chaos—but instead of matching it, he grounds it. He’s a bit grumpy at first, but your warmth wins him over, and soon you’re cuddling under trees, discussing moral philosophy while forest creatures curl up beside you.

English is not my first language !