#I wear the first one from a different person on a chain around my neck and the second one is actually the correct size

[nichtimhandelerhaeltlich]

while I have no normal rizz I got the even rarer do-you-wanna-jokinglyplatonically-marry-me-pls-say-yes-rizz

[mythicmanuscripts]

A imaginary penny for your thoughts about hotd boys + collaring? 👀

Brilliant question!! I'm glad to see you guys want more of the preferences because they're some of my favourite things to write not only because it's fun but also because I love to read other people's reactions or add ons to my ideas.

Anyway, none of this is too NSFW but is it very very clearly dom!reader and BDSM focused so I'm gonna hide it under the cut to be safe :))

AEGON:

So as we all know, Aegon is a bit of a slut. When he marries you he goes from being a slut who sleeps with everyone to being a slut only for you. But make no mistake he is still as much of a slut, just now it's all directed to you.

Part of this switch is that Aegon just loves being yours? Not just being your husband but also your submissive. It's why he calls you 'wife' very often because he just loves that he can do that.

Anyway, point is that when you give Aegon a collar for scenes and it even has your name on it... he loses his little mind. At first he only wears the collar when scening but before long he starts wearing it whenever it's the two of you alone.

AEMOND:

Unlike Aegon, I think Aemond wants something subtle. Not just because he's not a fan of flashy jewellery but also because he wanted something he'd never have to take off?

When you suggest collaring to him he's immediately down for it, it sounds like a dream come true to him. But then as you start suggesting the different types of collars and colours and what you can have engraved, he starts to seem upset. When you ask him what's going on he admits that he wants a collar so badly, but he doesn't think he'd be able to handle having to take it off. You're his safe space, his favourite person in the entire world and he knows it will break his heart to remove the collar you gave him every day.

Luckily for him, you know the solution. Rather than an obvious collar you give him a simple gold chain to wear around his neck. He loves it, and he never ever takes it off.

JACE:

I think for Jace he wants something matching with you? Because yeah he'd love to be wear a collar for you, but that's not the thing he truly wants. Instead, he wants you two to match?

When you suggest getting two of the same bracelet and then you both always wear it he's just overjoyed. That's perfect. That's everything he could ever want.

He's always looking down at his wrist for the first few months and smiling to himself when he sees the bracelet. For years afterwards he still glances down to your wrist whenever you walk past just to see the bracelet. It means so much to him.

[anxious-witch]

Okay. Long awaited analysis of Jure's pictures. As always, this is entirely subjective and I don't claim to be 100% right about ny interpretations. Apologies if I am a bit scatterbrained, I just had to write this today despite vibrating out if my skin.

Anyway, let's get to it

So I went ahead and rearranged the pictures in a way that I think fit together.

We start off with these two(sorry for blurryness, it just turned out like this when I cropped them). But funnily enough, I think we have Jure as the opposite of everyone else. Where the rest seemed to gain protection and safety from clothes, I feel like Jure feels stiffled by them.

In these two, he looks most lonely and disconnected than in any other photos from the photoshoot. In the first one, he is in a position akin to the one we saw him before, in that box. Like a cat lounging on the floor. But he is looking away, giving a picture a sense of loneliness, of disconnection. And even before we see him with a cigarette in picture two, there is an ash tray to indicate the smoking.

Then immediately following is this. Jure begins to take off his clothes, his pants and underwear pulled down messily, he is pulling his sweater up. He is still smoking here, but he is also looking directly at the camera. His eyes are frame by a dark eyeliner.

When I was looking at the pictures for the first time, I didn't get the connection until I saw this picture. I am gonna jump the gun and say that I think this set is literally meant to serve as a seduction. Who did they vote for the most likely to sleep with a fan? Jure. Who said hookup when everyone else said relationship? Jure again.

My interpretation is, as crude as it sounds, is that he is connecting with the viewer here through sex and seduction.

Here we have this again. He is only in his underwear and wearing a jacket. I'd even go as far to speculate that it's not meant to be his jacket. Because he is looking to feel closer to the person he is seducing. He'll put on makeup and their clothes, all for the show, all to be seen and to seduce. And I think that's what this photoshoot is, a way for Jure to be seen in a new light.

Interstingly, he seems to have mostly open body language so far in all pictures. In this one he seems slightly more closed off, with his knees pulled closer to his chest and his arm resting on top of them.

Then in this set, we have what I like to think of as "the morning after". There is no makeup, there is no clothes. Jure looks almost superior in the first picture. He reminds of Roman Emperor reclining.

Romans used to have parties, usually reserved only for men, where the position you got on the reclining bed could speak of your position. Here we have Jure alone, in the center. This is his moment and he is completely relaxed, completely in power. He isn't shying away from the camera, there is not shyness due to his almost naked state. Like someone would, after a suceesful seduction.

In the second picture, that's even more openly expressed. His head is fully turned to the camera, his eyes even more intense. It's as if he is inviting us in, drawing us closer. I can't tell if there is a different balnket altogether or if it's shifted and the end of it seems like a slightly different material.

Either way, I can't see anything but him pulling a lover closer once again.

Third picture is....well. Obviously there are certainly other interpretations, but to go with the obvious, Jure seems to be very open here, even has his eyes closed and that paired up with the way his body is positioned implies pleasure to me. Which once again plays into the whole set being about seduction, and about connection that he seems to gain from physical closeness.

In all three pictures, Jure is wearing a chain necklace around his neck. Interestingly enough, he doesn't wear them in the first set. Perhaps implying this is something new he decided to adorn himself with? Or a steel he wears underneath?

Then we have shirtless Jure, and an reappearance if a chain necklace. He is even openly acknowledging the necklace by touching it. With the addition of Damon's quote: "your art intertwined with my art", I think we can once again reaffirm this is a new way Jure wants to be seen. He is an art all of his own, even when surrouded by the art of the rest of his bandmates, he gets to be a central piece in this one. Yet-in the two pictures on the right, he has closed off body language.

Perhaps he is still unsure of the new role he wants. His gaze is softer, less intense. He is letting us take him in as he is. Which is clearly difficukt for him, hence mire closed off body language but none the less, he is still showing us that.

As always, feel free to add in on these, I feel like I missed on a lot of things bc of everything they dropped on us today but damn. I love this photoshoot sm

[heich0e]

tags: yakuza!suna/escort!reader the prequel(ish), icymi here's PART 1 + PART 2 series masterlist

The car pulls up along the back of the club just past ten o’clock.

It had rained earlier in the evening, though you'd fortunately missed most of the shower. The world passing outside the windows of the car is still soaked with it, and puddles pool in the divots of the road as the water trickles slowly towards the storm drains that line the street.

“Thank you, Toma,” you say to your driver as you reach for the handle to let yourself out, and in the front seat the kindly man dips his head in response.

“Would you like me to wait to drop you home?” he asks, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror positioned along the highest centre point of the windshield. “I haven’t got another ride for a half an hour.”

“I have to drop my take-home off to the office and get my payout, and the trains are still running, but thank you,” you assure him with a shake of your head. You smile at him in the rearview mirror as you pop the door open. You hesitate just before you slip out, leaning up towards the front seat. “Drive safe tonight.”

You have to step around puddles as you approach the staff entrance to the club, the water collecting every few steps along the craggy surface of the alley. You hear a voice filtering down the dingy alleyway from up ahead, and it makes you slow ever so slightly. It’s familiar, and as you round the corner to the door, you recognize why.

Kaito stands just beside the metal door with ‘STAFF ENTRANCE ONLY’ emblazoned across it peeling white paint. He’s ditched the suit jacket you’d seen him wearing earlier in the evening, left in his black dress shirt with the first few buttons undone and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The flickering light above the door catches on the garish chain he wears around his neck, glinting at you as Kaito holds his cellphone up to his ear, lost in his conversation.

“Of course, sir. I understand,” he says, and though his voice is as insincerely pleasant as ever, his face is contrastingly grim—the affectation of charm extending only to that which the caller on the other line is able to witness. You watch as Kaito pushes a hand through his carefully-styled hair in frustration, tousling the dark strands, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s not last minute at all, I’ll make sure our very best girls are available once he arrives.”

You pause upon overhearing that particular snippet of his phone call, your heels clicking to a stop on the unevenly cobbled path, and Kaito’s eyes crack open once he senses your approach.

“Very well, I’ll be sure to be at the entrance to greet him myself. Have a good evening, sir.”

Kaito ends the call, his eyes still on you.

“You’re back,” he remarks, acknowledging you once he tucks his phone into the pocket of his dress pants—his voice is so different now to what it had been only seconds prior that he may as well be a different person entirely. He plucks out the cigarette tucked behind his ear and holds it to his lips, fishing a lighter out from his pocket. “Early, isn’t it?” 

“Right on schedule, actually,” you reply, snapping out of your momentary stupor and approaching the door as the lighter clicks to life. “I was meeting with Suzuki-san this evening.”

Suzuki is one of your longest-standing regulars: a successful businessman in his mid-60s whose wife passed away a few years prior, and whose children have all grown and moved away. He takes you to dinner once a week, and your appointments are never anything more than that. He’s lonely, you realized quickly after meeting him, and the way his face lights up when you arrive at whatever restaurant he’s reserved for the evening makes your stomach ache a little too much to ever really enjoy the food.

“That old sucker?” Kaito’s eyes widen, the corner of his mouth twisting upward in an almost cruel way. “Still paying you to play footsie with him at dinner after all this time.”

You frown, shooting Kaito a withering look as you reach for the staff door to step inside. He ignores your glare, and you watch with a feeling of abject dread as an idea comes to him.

“Hey,” he says, his hand suddenly coming to rest against the peeling paint and forcing the door closed before you can properly open it. The acrid smell of his cigarette smoke is overwhelming with him this close to you, and it makes your nose scrunch up. “You should stay late tonight.”

“Can’t,” you reply flatly, angling your body away from his. “I’m just here for payout.”

Kaito huffs at your immediate refusal. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he tries again.

“I can’t,” you repeat yourself, holding firm.

He narrows his eyes, and you watch as he considers how he should reply. He rolls his eyes a bit and eventually backs off, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Whatever.”

You open the door and step inside without any further words passing between you.

In the main office, you hand in the envelope of cash Suzuki-san had pressed into your palm after walking you back to Toma and the waiting car outside the restaurant. The disinterested man in the office—you never manage to keep track of who’s who with how frequently the faces change around here—takes the cash and counts it in another room, even though you'd already triple checked for yourself on the drive back to the club. You wait there with your arms crossed over your chest for him to bring you back a slip of paper that would outline how much you’d earned that week and what was deposited directly into your bank account, and your heel taps against the dingy tile as the minutes tick past.

The back office of the club is far less flashy than the interiors of the lounge a few hundred metres and some staircases away. In fact, the interiors tend to deteriorate in luxury the further outwards you move from the epicentre of activity—the club and the private rooms that are attached to it are the height of luxury, the suites that line the south end of the building slightly less impressive in their quality, and finally the administrative rooms and various other spaces that only the staff ever visit like this one are completely unremarkable. Looking around the shabby, disorganized office you wouldn’t even know the kind of business it’s running.

Maybe that’s the point, you can’t help but think.

As you wait for the nameless man to return with your pay stub, you hear a sound from the hallway outside the open office door. It’s slight, but familiar—the sound of a sniffle. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

It’s not unusual to hear a woman crying around here.

You quickly turn your back to the door, trying your very best to ignore it. That’s what you’ve learned to do over the years, after all. But the sobbing becomes less ignorable, more noticeable, and before you can think better of it you’re stepping out of the office towards the sound.

Around the corner from the office, next to a supply closet, you find a small girl hunched in on herself in a sparkling pink cocktail dress.

It’s Mini—at least, that’s the name she goes by around here since the girls rarely use their real names in this place, for good reason.

She’s young, maybe 20 if you had to guess generously, and had only been working at the club for a few week as a server mostly: circling the busy floor of the bar area and bringing patrons their drinks. She’s a bright, bubbly girl, and she’s taken a shine to you for whatever reason after only a few shifts where your paths have crossed. 

“Hey,” you call to her, and it seems to startle her a bit, jolting when she hears the sound of your voice.

Her mascara is running down her cheeks as she lifts her face to look up at you, and her nose has gone bright pink even underneath the layer of makeup she wears. At the sight of you, she starts to cry harder, crushing herself unexpectedly against your chest. You’re not sure what to do, so you pat a little awkwardly along her back in a vague attempt to comfort her.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her, hoping your voice isn’t quite as stiff as the rest of your body is.

“K-k-kaito just pulled m-me off the f-f-f-floor,” she wails, the final word drawing out in a warbling little cry.

Your jaw sets as she struggles to compose herself, pulling herself away from you after another moment of tears.

"Why?"

“He told me”—Mini swipes at her running nose with the back of her hand, sniffling wetly—“told me there’s a private party coming in. He’s rounding up as many girls as he can for it and sending them into one of the private lounges.”

Mini hasn’t been at the club long, and has never worked a private party. You both realize what it means for her, without it needing to explicitly be said. Evidently the premise has her frightened.

You really have no right to be as angry as you are, but that doesn't change the fury you feel rolling in the pit of your stomach.

Or stop you from doing what you do next.

You find Kaito in his office on the other side of the building.

“Who’s this private party?” you ask him once he answers the sharp rap you land against his door and he calls you in.

Kaito glances up from his desk. He’s got his suit jacket on again, and he’s fixed his hair—back to his usual self. He looks a little surprised to see you standing in his office doorway, especially as pissed off as you are.

He quirks a brow. “What’s it to you?”

You bite the tip of your tongue in an attempt to temper the flare of irritation searing through you. 

“I don’t think Mini’s ready to work a private party.”

“Who?” he asks, and the worst part is you know he means it, leaning back in his chair. His brow furrows as you stare at him.

 Your lips part to explain, but he cuts you off before any words come out.

“Doesn’t matter anyway,”—he waves his hand disinterestedly—“I need girls and she’s on shift. We’ve got a very important patron coming in who needs a selection to choose from, and half our best girls are already booked out tonight—or refuse to stay late.”

He tacks on that last part just for your sake.

Your teeth clench.

“So you’re just gonna send a bunch of rookies in there?” you ask him. “What kind of impression is that supposed to make to this very important patron?” 

He shrugs. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

You’re not sure who the beggar in this situation is supposed to be.

You grind your heel into the tile of his office floor as you sift through your thoughts.

“How many girls do you need?” you finally ask him, the question hissing out through gritted teeth.

He grins, seeing the cracks forming in your armour even from the other side of the room. 

“Depends,” he replies flippantly.

“On what?” you ask him flatly.

He leans forward across his desk with a sharp smile pulling at his lips. 

“On if I’m going for quantity or quality.”

In the end, Kaito agrees not to send any of the inexperienced girls into the private room. Instead, there will only be five girls, all relatively experienced, who this unexpected guest that Kaito seems so insistent on catering to will get to choose from. 

You agree to be one of them.

You touch up your makeup in one of the dressing rooms before heading towards the designated lounge. It’s one of the nicest private rooms in the building: large, quiet, and with it’s own small mini-bar that’s kept well stocked to minimize any interruptions—another testament to just how keen Kaito is to pull out all the stops for this mystery patron.

You’re not dressed how you usually would be a lounge shift like this—much less a private booking. The dress you’d worn to dinner with Suzuki-san is a little too tasteful for the role you’re about to assume. Mini had kindly offered to let you borrow one of the spares she’d brought to work with her after she found you freshening yourself up (and conveyed her relief at being spared the private party,) but you declined—not least of all because of your very different body types. Your quiet hope was that you’d get there, pale in comparison to one of the other girls who were better suited for the occasion, and ultimately be able to continue home like you ought to have already been by now, this whole situation an unfortunate—but only momentary—road block.

The other girls are already gathered in the room when you arrive, with drinks in their hands and glossy lips and beautiful, skin-tight dresses on their frames. You greet them quietly, accepting a glass of champagne that’s placed into your hands by one of the girls you’re closest to—a tall, stunning woman who goes by the name of Yuki.

“Any idea who this high roller is that Kaito’s kissing ass for tonight?” she asks you as you take a sip from your drink. Yuki had cut the drink with soda water, you realize it right away as the muted taste of effervescent wine reaches your tongue. It’s a welcomed trick that you yourself have been known to employ of many occasions, a tactic used to keep your wits about you without seeming like you’re turning down a drink while you work a long shift.

You can’t help but lament the fact that you really could use a proper drink right about now.

“No,” you tell her quietly, fiddling with the thin stem of the champagne flute between your fingers. “He didn’t say.”

“Must be someone good,” Sakura, another working girl whose long hair is tinted a pretty shade of pink that suits her name, chimes in from the other side of the room where she’s draped across the tufted sofa. 

You wonder if she’s right about that, because an unpleasant feeling creeping over you is telling you the opposite.

The girls chat quietly amongst themselves as you all wait for the arrival of the much-anticipated guest, and you continue sipping your watered down champagne as you rest perched on the arm of a chair along one side of the room.

You should already be home by now. Should already have scrubbed the day from your skin and slipped into a pair of soft cotton pyjamas. You should be sitting on your sofa watching a movie, or reading the last chapter of the book you’d had to tear yourself away from to come to work that afternoon, or even be curled up in your bed asleep. You’re bitter to still be within the walls of the club, to still be maintaining the character you’re paid to play, and you chew the inside of your cheek as you stew in this resentment—so much so that you almost miss the door to the lounge swing open.

Your eyes flicker up as the rest of the girls stand in greeting.

You’re the last to rise from your seat.

Behind Kaito is a man you’ve never seen before, his apathetic stare sweeping lazily around the room as Kaito rambles on about something you don’t care to listen to. The guest doesn’t seem to either.

He has dark hair that reaches a little longer than the top of his ears, and an expression on his face that doesn’t seem to imply that he’s any happier to be here than you are. He has a bandage on his cheek, the skin around it still red enough to imply the injury is fresh, and a cut on his lip that looks like it could bleed again at any moment. He’s dressed in black—a turtleneck, under a long coat, over a pair of trousers, all in the same shade. His hands are shoved into his pockets to complete his general air of indifference.

His eyes land on you just as you make it up to your feet, and the way his attention lingers on you for a moment longer than it had the rest of the girls makes you want to curse under your breath. Your attempt to go unnoticed has already started off on the wrong foot, and the man isn’t even fully across the threshold yet. 

Your eyes meet—properly meet—and for a moment you hold your breath.

“Ladies,” Kaito says, that saccharine, ingratiating tone you hate so much the thickest you’ve ever heard it in his voice. “This is Suna Rintarou”

The man’s eyes are still on you.

“I’m sure you’ll see to it that he has a very memorable evening.”

[spookwyrdie]

Spellbound

pairing: sub!Han x dom!reader

word count: 4.8k

summary: It's his first time at the goth club, Han fidgets with the ring on his collar. He came for one thing - a night in the dungeon with you, the Countess.

genre: SMUT, goth club AU, gentle femdom

warnings: adult dialogue, sexual content, dom/sub dynamics, gentle femdom, semi-public sex, BDSM, leather, spanking, impact play, wax play, no penetration, porn with no plot, descriptions of subspace

18+ only, minors DNI

a/n: I didn't proofread this one, so if you notice any mistakes, no you didn't lol. Han has been coming for my neck recently, a full blown bias wrecker menace.

photo credit: collar

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

I've only posted this here and on AO3 - user: spookwyrdie

The bass hits Han in the chest the minute he walks through the doors, a droning synth heavy in the air, a smoke machine fuzzing out the flashing lights on the dance floor. It feels like he’s walked into another world, a darker, seductive world, filled with black clothes, pale makeup, and an air of mystery. There are bodies pulsing on the dance floor, moving like they’re casting spells to the thick wall of sound that the DJ has built. The whole room feels like a heartbeat that overtakes his own, swayed by the power of the crowd.  

As he makes his way towards the bar, he stumbles a little, his big shit-kicker boots a little unwieldy with his anxiety on the rise. He brushes himself off, his outfit feeling a bit foreign on his body but so exhilarating at the same time. Layering different types of sheer tops, he settled on some combo of mesh and fishnet, under a frayed black sweater barely held together by threads. His pants are a tight leather, and his big boots help him feel a little more solid on his feet. He accessorized with the secret hoard of jewelry he owns, never really having a great excuse to break out a lot of these pieces. The final addition is his collar, a sleek leather with an O-ring at the base of his throat and a few chains for decoration. He bought it for himself, accepting that if he wants to wear one, he’s the only one who’d buy it.  

He’s on edge, his black polished fingers fidget with the choker around his neck, the heavy metal ring in the middle clanking against the chain. It gives him something to occupy his hands to keep them from shaking. He’s been wanting to come to the goth club ever since Chris showed him the pictures he took from the last kink night. It’s a type of lifestyle he’s been drawn to for years now, never really working up the courage to cross the threshold of the night club until now.  

Truthfully, he came to see you. He’s drawn to you like a fly to a web, and you’re the spider waiting in the center. It’s like he can feel you in his veins already. The photos that Chris showed him had been rolling around Han’s mind like an obsidian marble, leaving sooty trails across his thoughts for weeks now.  

~~~ 

“One of the areas they have is a dungeon,” Chris said while flicking through photos of different people in fishnets, lace, leather, all caught in a moment of entranced movement. It looked magical to him. He caught a glimpse of you in the back of one of the photos, standing behind a body bent over and restrained to a piece of leather furniture. You were holding a riding crop in the shape of a heart in one hand and the other had a fistful of the restrained person’s hair tangled in your fingers. “You have to sign a liability waiver, but it’s open to anyone of legal age who consents.” 

“Who is that?” Han asks, trying to keep the tremble of desire out of his voice. 

“Her? Oh, that’s Y/n. She goes by Countess in the scene. She’s one of the dommes that works these events.” Chris says. “Hang on, I have a ton of photos of her. She’s great in front of the camera.” 

He opens a whole other folder labeled ‘Countess’ and Han is awestruck by you. In one, the crowd surrounds you as a man lays prone on the floor with your giant platform boot on his head. In another with a woman strung up from the ceiling with red ropes with you moving to slap against her thigh with a flog. Even more with your face close to a different figure chained to a piece of leather furniture, your hand picks their head up from their hair to look them in the eye. Their eyes are locked onto yours, in a state of undiluted rapture. He’s fixated on your facial expression – teasing, mean, but full of affection. He feels his heart drop into his stomach at the thought of that kind of attention from you being focused on him.  

“She’s... amazing,” Han says, a little breathlessly. “Do you know her well?” 

“Yeah, she’s like always working at the kink nights,” Chris replied. He turns to Han, waggling his eyebrows, “Why? You interested?” 

“N-no! Nothing like that.” 

“Okay, sure,” Chris says, turning back to his computer. “Kink nights are the last Saturday of every month... Not that you’re interested.”  

~~~ 

Han moves through the crowd, bodies swaying and grinding against his as he pushes past them. The atmosphere is shrouded with the ambience of fog and heavy synth music.  

In the back corner, there’s a person at a small table with a clipboard in front of a curtained doorway. He saunters over slowly, heart beating in his throat from nerves. The tiny goth girl with Siouxsie eye makeup looks him over with a smile. “You look a little lost, sugar. Are you here for the dungeon?” 

“Y-yes,” Han gulps. “Is there...like, paperwork?” 

She giggles and holds up a clipboard, “You’re sweet. Yes, there’s some risks you have to look over and sign off on. Oh, I’ll need a photo ID and you’ll need to leave your phone in a little locker up front here. No photos or videos are allowed in the space.”  

Han takes the clipboard from the bubbly little goth girl and starts scanning the page. His eyes go wide at the types of sexual acts he may encounter, “including, but not limited to” all types of bondage, impact, pain, suspension, penetration, masturbation, etcetera etcetera. He gulps, signs his name on the dotted line, and gives the goth girl a shaky smile. “Is... Countess working tonight?” 

“Countess is definitely working tonight,” she says with a sly smile. “She’s only taking individuals on in the private space this evening. It hasn’t been super busy tonight so you’re in luck.” 

The thick fabric of the curtain brushes past him as he enters the dungeon. Immediately, the room is darker, quieter. The bass still thumps through the walls but it’s low enough to have a conversation. He looks around, there’s a group in front of a small stage where a masked rigger ties up and suspends a woman from her hips. One knee is to her chest and the other is bent behind her, more rope connecting her ankle to her braided hair. Her arms are tied behind her back, her body perfectly balanced in this dangling pose. She slowly spins from the place where the ropes hang. The look on her face is a meditative euphoria, full trust in the hands that tie the knots.  

Han is frozen in place, watching the spectacle. He licks his lips in a painful longing. He wants that kind of trust, that kind of floating in space feeling. The only experience he has is from the porn he’s watched and the occasional self-restraint and impact, but it definitely doesn’t feel right. He wants to be at the mercy of someone else’s hands, and he’s really hoping that someone could be you.  

At that moment, a low, sultry voice murmurs in his ear, “Is that something you’d be interested in, little one?” 

Yanked out of his focus on the rope scene in front of him, he spins on his heel. There you are, clad in a leather skirt, fish nets, lace, and a chest harness, showing off your ample curves. You have sweet eyes lined with sharp eye makeup and a dark burgundy stain on your lips. If someone asked him to describe a succubus, he’d describe you in this outfit.  

You look him over, the powerful and discerning gaze he saw in those photos in front of him, that focus pressing into him. He leans back, trying to steady his breath. You step further into his personal space, the toes of your platforms almost touching the tips of his boots. He breathes you in, a heady combination of sandalwood, tobacco leaf, and something sweet fills his senses and he feels a warmth pooling in his lower belly.  

You smile, your teeth gleaming in the low light, “You’re the guy Chris told me about, right?”  

“Chris talked to you?” 

“Yes,” you lean closer, face inches from his. “He mentioned a friend of his was going to show up tonight looking like a scared stray dog. Told me to take care of you.” 

His eyes flutter from your gaze to your plush lips. He’s rooted to the spot, held in this moment by your gaze. The way your teeth look sharp in the light as you grin at him makes his knees weak. You look like you could eat him alive, and he’d thank you for it.  

Your eyes drift over his face, flicking down to the collar he’s wearing. Reaching up with one sharp, painted fingernail, you trail over the O-ring on his collar sitting in the hollow of his throat. 

“Do you belong to someone, stray?” 

“W-what?” 

Your eyes meet his, gaze piercing into his own, “Did someone give this to you as a gift of ownership?” 

His eyes trail down to where your finger lightly grazes over his choker. “No,” he gulps, “I got it for myself because no one has ever thought to get one for me.” 

You study him for a moment, taking in his layered distressed shirts, leather pants and boots. Your eyes rest on that O-ring on his throat as you gently hook your index finger on it. “So, you’re a lost little dog looking for a leash.” 

Han gulps again, suddenly his pants feel a little too tight. “Y-yes, Countess.” 

A slow smile spreads on your face again and your eyes light up with something hot and piercing. “Good boy.” 

With that, you tug on the ring of his collar, pulling Han’s body off balance and towards your face. “Follow me,” you purr against his lips. Your tongue darts out to kitten lick his bottom lip. Han’s eyes flutter closed in disbelief. Heavy arousal blooms in his chest and he feels his cock twitch in his constricting pants.  

You turn, index finger still hooked on his collar, and march him to another room. A thick velvet curtain brings him into a warmly lit space, a plush, leather clad bench in the center of the smaller room. It looks similar to a small picnic table, one main middle support with two supports dropped lower, the surface a well-oiled burgundy leather. There’s a set of cuffs attached to each of the legs at the bottom, so a body could lay there and be cinched down in a vulnerable position. There’s a couch in the corner and small table on the side with an open trunk, Han peeks inside. There’s rope, paddles, a flogger, some red candles, and more. He stops breathing for a second, his arousal thumping through his chest. 

You turn to him, “So, what are you hoping will happen, little stray?” 

“I-I’m not sure,” Han stammers out. 

“Bullshit,” you say matter-of-factly. “No one purchases a collar like that without some sort of craving. What do you want out of this?” 

He pauses, mulling over the question while you appraise him with your eyes, finger still toying with the ring at his throat. He gulps audibly, “I want you, Countess. I want you to hurt me.” 

“Hurt you how, little stray?” 

~~~ 

Han is practically on all fours on this leather bench. His legs are spread over the top part of the bench, knees and hands on the pads below. His weight rests on his naked torso and in this position his half hard cock in nestled between his body and the bench, pressing against the leather of his pants. The cuffs around his wrists and ankles are thick black leather, he pulls against his restraints, feeling them bite into his skin. He can still move a little, still squirm around, but not much more than that. It’s not like he could see what was to come either; he can only lay his head to one side, his cheek flat against the leather of the bench. His heartbeat pounds through him in this position, the rush of adrenaline from the nerves and the promise of the pleasure to come has him quivering. 

You circle him like a predator with its prey, dragging a hand idly across his body as you move. He twitches under your touch when you graze over his ass in his leather pants. When you get to where his face is, you crouch down to his eye level.  

“If I ask you for a color, what do you say?” 

“Green for all good, yellow for slow down and reassess, red for full stop,” he replies. 

“Good,” you murmur, your eyes locked on his lips. You flick your gaze up to his, a pleading look in his big brown eyes, and press a chaste kiss to his forehead. “We’ll start with the riding crop.” 

He feels a hot bolt of desire shoot through his spine at the mere thought and he squirms against the bench, trying to relieve some of the pressure building in his cock. The leather of the heart shaped riding crop in your hand trails down his back from the base of his neck to ass. All his nerves light up, muscles spasming under the gentle contact. He writhes more, and a swift smack comes down on his ass suddenly. He grunts in surprise, that hot bolt of desire fizzling into something more tingly spreading throughout his body.  

 You tap the crop along his ass and his thighs in a percussive beat, not too hard, just warming up the area. Han feels you pause for a second before another smack comes down where his thigh meets his ass. His hips jerk forward, and he mewls at the sting of the leather. The pain abates to a glow, like his skin is electrified yet sedate. He can feel his cock throbbing underneath him, his hips slowly grinding into the bench. 

Your hand rests on the small of his back, caressing the area lightly as another bolt of hot arousal burns through him. 

 “Only two spanks in and you’re already humping the bench?” 

Han can only whine in response. 

You lean down towards his face again, your scent enveloping him. His eyebrows knit together as he meets your gaze, begging for more. 

“Color?" 

“GREEN!” he moans, hips gyrating again. 

You smile again, eyes crinkling at the corners. His enthusiasm is palpable, filling the small room. You stand and continue with the riding crop, tapping, pausing, then SMACK! The way you change the length of time you take to pause makes his mouth water, never knowing exactly when the crop will come down on him again, no way to anticipate it.  

You get up and walk to the other side of the room, picking up a new toy. When you return, you run the suede of the flogger down his spine, he sighs as his body convulses. Saliva pools under his cheek where it dribbles out of his mouth, already too far gone to notice or care. You pick up the flogger off his skin and start to spin it in circles, slow at first then picking up speed, the tails coming into light contact with his lower back, ass, and thighs. The rhythmic impact against his skin both sharp and soothing with your expert guidance. Every few spins, you put more force into the downswing, slapping the suede against his skin, the extra sting has Han keening. He can’t control his hips anymore, they are thrusting against the bench again, searching for any friction to heighten the sensation he’s feeling against his body. His back, ass, and thighs feel like they’re radiating from this stimulation. His skin feels like it’s buzzing all over, he’s outside his own mind, beginning to put that trust in your capable hands.  

The flogging stops and your hand rests on the small of his back again and his hips still. Han feels like he’s floating 3 feet above where his body is chained down. The one thing grounding him at this moment is the warmth of your hand rubbing soothing circles into the small of his back. Every small caress you give him makes him feel like an instrument and you’re plucking his strings, making his skin sing. He can barely hear you, too wrapped up in his own mind, but he can hear your voice cooing over him. Your face is down by his again, checking in on him.  

“Color?” 

“G-greeeeeeen...” he moans out, a dopey smile stretching across his face.  

“Good boy,” you say, and press another small kiss to his forehead. Before he can lift his head to try and chase your lips, you are crossing the room once again. Both hands are full when you return - one holds a leather leash with a bolt snap hook and the other a small red candle and lighter. “Look what I found just for you.” 

The leash is black with a lining of red around the perimeter and three small hearts embossed on the looped handle. The candle is a vibrant red color with hardened wax drips running down the sides. You set those on the ground while your hands move to the front of the bench by Han’s head, lifting him gently by the chin and looking in his eyes. Your fingers massage his scalp, the points of your nails sending shivers down his spine. 

“We’re gonna play with a new leash, little stray. And some wax. Color?” 

The way he’s looking at you like you’re shining down above him, he’s speechless at your calm demeanor. The only giveaway that you’re in any way affected is a blush creeping along the apples of your cheeks. 

“Green,” he whispers, breathlessly. He’s panting at just the sight of you, the only thing in his vision he can focus on. You smile down at him, leaning forward until your lips brush against his. He must be imagining it, but you look almost shy for a moment.  

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Please-” he groans, trying to reach up from his secured arms. You slant your lips on his, giving him a sweet, slow kiss. He responds in kind, opening his mouth, swiping his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entry. The mood shifts from a chaste moment to something more primal as your tongues meet, sliding over one another. He hopes you can taste the desperation on his tongue. 

Your finger curls around the ring of his collar again, pulling it against his skin, reminding him of who’s in control. You pull away from him, sighing. You pull his collar and spin it around his neck gently, making sure the ring is positioned facing his back. Han lets out a whimper, almost nuzzling into your hand. You pick up the leash on the floor and clip the bolt snap onto the ring. Giving the leash a quick tug to ensure it’s connected; he whines at the pulling sensation. 

You come back into his vision and lock eyes with him. “Little stray, I’m going to be pulling on this leash while we play, okay? If you’re not able to speak but you want me to stop, I want you to knock against the wood of the bench. Can you do that for me?”  

He nods, bouncing his head against the leather of the bench, using his knuckles to rap against the wood under one of his cuffs.  

“Good. Color?” 

“Green,” he giggles, blushing under your tender care. 

You stand, hands pushing your skirt up to hook your thumbs on your panties. Han’s jaw drops open as your panties drop to the floor in front of him. You step out of them gingerly and grab the wax candle and lighter off the floor. Your body moves around him and all he can hear is the flicking sound of the lighter. He gasps as he feels you move to straddle him on the bench, settling your weight against his leather clad ass. He screws his eyes shut, feeling his sensitive cock leak at the new pressure, trapped between his body and the bench. Your hand runs up his spine, nails scraping lightly over the delicate skin. He can feel the heat of your body as you lean forward to clasp the leash attached to his collar. You run the leather down his spine, tracing over the red blossoming on his flesh from the flogging.  

The leash pulls against his collar, and he cranes back as far as he can, keening into your touch. You’re not even pulling tight, the barest amount of tension in the leash makes him feel possessed. It’s a feeling of being owned, overpowered, at the beck and call of a master. His hips shudder under you as he presses his ass against your cunt, drawing a moan from your throat. The flash of joy radiates through him at the noise you make.  

“Good boy,” you growl at him.  

The first sting comes from the wax dripping on his back, muscles tensing at the rush of sharp pain. Another hot drip of wax makes him lurch forward with a squeak as more fall against his spine. He’s dizzy from concentrating, trying to anticipate where the next drop will fall and being surprised every time. Han’s breaths are fast and shallow as he focuses on keeping his hips still underneath you, trying to be good for you. 

It’s a lot more difficult when you start slowly thrusting against him with each drop of wax from the candle, bearing down on his hips, making his constricted leaking cock rub against the bench below him. Your hips start to move at a pace matching the low bass thudding in the other room. He moans at your movement, the pressure and the friction almost too much, but just enough to send him into a spiral.  

Your hand on the leash pulls against his neck as you ride your hips against his ass, your wetness slipping over the leather of his jeans. The seam of his pants rubs up against your folds just right to drive you absolutely insane. With each drop of wax, each tug, each thrust, Han meets your cunt with a cry as he pushes back against your clit. You buck against him with fervor, chasing your own high, slamming his hips, dripping wax on his back and dripping your own essence on his leather.  

His moans pitch up, your hips forcing his to thrust against the leather bench, the recoil of him pushing his ass back up towards you, the rhythm you two find together like this has him rocketing towards his release. Above him, you’re grunting out praise, “Such a fucking good boy, fuck.” Soon you are lost in your own pleasure, just staccato moans pouring out of you, so sweet in Han’s ears. 

Your body stops moving above him for a split second as you cry out, your orgasm shuddering through you, hips jerking forward, riding it out on the seam of his pants. Han hears you whining, sounding nearly as fucked out as he does. As you whimper, you pull the leash tight, Han slams his eyes shut as he lets out a strangled moan, leaning into the feeling of the blood flow being constricted. Your hips still rocking against him, you’re more focused on the pressure and rhythm of his hips, watching his body bounce against yours. The aftershocks of your orgasm shake through you still, panting hard. 

“Are you going to cum for me, sweet little stray?”   

Han is outside his own mind, like his soul is trying to leave while his neglected cock slides against the leather of pants, the sensation of being caught between your cunt and the bench has him jerking his hips faster. The tip of his cock is so sensitive, he feels every thrust of your hips in his entire body, his only tether to the earth at this moment is you and the way you’re fucking him into a bench.  

His eyes roll to the back of his head as he cums, his back arching, a guttural groan leaving his throat as he feels the warm spurts make a mess of the leather caging his hard cock. He can’t breathe, not from the pressure of the collar on his neck, but from the sheer ecstasy pulsing through his body. It’s never felt like this before, his skin erupts in goosebumps as the feeling ricochets around his chest. The pain and the euphoria are unmatched as he collapses back down the bench, spent and reeling in the moment.  

“Good boy,” you say in his ear as you slide off his body and onto your wobbly legs. Han is still floating in the air, barely aware of what’s going on around him. You crouch down to undo his wrists and ankles from the cuffs, massaging the skin underneath gently, pressing small kisses to the sensitive skin. The buckle of his collar comes loose under your nimble fingers, and you ease it off his neck. You place your hand in his to see if he squeezes it, but all he can manage is a twitch of his fingers and a groan. While he’s still fucked out in this prone position, you grab some aloe gel and tenderly apply some to his back, peeling away the wax drippings from his skin. You massage his reddening skin, and murmur soft praises at him as he comes back into his body.  

Han moves to get up off the bench, you hold out an arm to steady him. His whole body is wobbly, so you steer him towards the couch. You sit with him and wrap him up in your arms. He collapses back into you, his head resting against your shoulder, feeling warm and safe in your embrace. Pressing little kisses to his neck and head, you rub little circles into his scalp while he comes down.  

His words are a little slurred while he tries to form a sentence. “I n-never...” he starts, pausing to take a deep breath. “I never expected it to be that good.” 

You smile into his hair, pressing slow kisses into him, running your hands down his arms. “It can be even better than that.” 

He turns his head to look at you, “how?” 

“Sweetie, your pants didn’t even come off.” 

His eyes bug out of his head, and he looks down. “I made... a mess.” 

You grab his face and chuckle, “So did I, you got me more riled up than I expected.” 

“I did?” 

“Yeah, I never do what I just did with clients at the club. You were just so responsive, all those little noises, and SUCH a good listener.” You say this with adoration brimming in your voice. You kiss him again, this time unhurried, lingering, just to learn his shape a little better. The bass still thumps through the walls as Han’s heart thumps against you. You pull back from the kiss, searching his eyes, “How are you feeling?” 

“Good. So relaxed,” he says as he stretches, sitting up. 

“Good. Go grab my panties for me.” 

~~~ 

The back of the wooden cafe chair was rubbing up against his tender back, reminding Han of his wild weekend. Each little twinge made him think of you, of the noises you made, the control you wielded. The flashbacks to that night flip through his head as his hands toy with the lid of his coffee, just like your fingers toyed with the ring on his collar. The memory of the way you yanked on his collar is vivid as he spaces out, his chest constricting. He reaches up to brush his hand over his throat, imagining it’s your hand that grazes over his skin. 

“Still back in the dungeon, huh?” Chris says as he slumps down in the chair opposite, a knowing smirk on his face. Han jolts out of the memory, a blush painting his cheeks.  

“Sorta,” he says, with a coy smile playing at his lips. 

“Well, you certainly got Y/n’s attention,” Chris muses. “She told me to give you this.” 

Chris slides a black business card across the table. It’s simple, the card stock heavy, the letters a bright red, a little heart embossed in the corner.  

“She says that if you’re interested, she wants to meet with you again. Something about adopting a stray?” 

[apothe-roses]

I Wanna Ride

modern Aemond Targaryen x reader

Part 2

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Summary: You go to your first biker meet with Aly and Cregan. After witnessing a bit of that classic Targ family tension, an opportunity arises. One that may require you to spend more time with your least favorite Targaryen.

Fic Contains: swearing, family tension, Aemond being a prick (again), sexual tension if you squint

Word Count: 2034

The sun has just set over the gathering in the heart of King’s Landing’s steel district. The air is alive with the sound of purring engines, shouts, and rock music playing. You look around, trying to take everything in at once.

You and Ally likely would’ve been swallowed by the crowd had it not been for Cregan serving as your personal buffer. With his height, he easily cut a path through the crowd for the two of you. One of his hands reaches behind him to hold Aly’s. Her other arm is linked in yours.

“Isn’t this fun?” Aly shouts.

“Yeah, I wish I’d gone to one of these sooner,” you respond just as loud.

“Really? Even the countless times I asked you to come with me?” Aly shoots back playfully.

“I was busy!” you argue.

“Excuses, excuses,” Aly retorts. “You were scaared.” She drags the last word out mockingly.

You elbow her playfully. She laughs and elbows you back.

“Well, at least you’re here now. Right, babe?” She directs the question to her boyfriend.

“Yeah, sure!” Cregan shouts over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure he wasn’t paying attention to your conversation at all.

Suddenly, Cregan raises his free hand and starts waving madly.

“Jace! Jace!” He shouts. He picks up his pace, dragging you and Aly with him.

You come to a less crowded area with picnic benches scattered about. Cregan makes a beeline towards one, letting go of Aly’s hand to engulf another guy in a bear hug. Cregan breaks the hug, ruffling his friend’s curly brown hair. You presume this is “Jace.”

“Aly! How’ve you been,” Jace asks, embracing her.

“I was doing great til I saw your ugly mug,” Aly teases, copying Cregan and ruffling his hair. Jace waves her off, laughing. Then he notices you.

“Hi! I’m Jace! Nice to meet you,” Jace says happily.

“My boyfriend’s boyfriend,” Aly explains over Jace’s shoulder. Jace turns to retort, but Aly takes refuge behind a laughing Cregan. Jace turns back to you, shaking his head.

“Come on. I saved us a table,” he said with a smile. He leads you all to a table where another boy—his brother Luke—sits. You all fall into easy conversation. You tell Jace and Luke about your new dragon, and they tell you about the new models they’re having a hand in developing.

“I thought only Targaryens were allowed to submit designs,” you say, confused.

“Oh, they didn’t tell you? Our mom’s Rhaenyra Targaryen,” Luke explains. Your mouth falls open.

“We take after our dad. Our little brother Joffrey is the same,” Jace adds in. Looking at him, you could see the resemblance to his father, Harwin Strong.

“Oh, wow,” you stammer, unable to find a response. Luckily, you didn’t have to as something catches Luke’s eye.

“Oh no,” he says, shrinking in his seat. You turn to where he’s looking. Walking through the crowd are none other than Aegon and Aemond Targaryen. Both Targaryens have ditched the coveralls you initially met them in. Aegon opted for a navy sweatshirt and jeans, a gold chain hanging around his neck. Aemond was wearing all black, from his leather jacket to his combat boots. His hair was only half pulled up, leaving the rest to hang down his chest.

They were accompanied by two people you immediately recognized as their siblings Daeron and Helaena.

The four siblings spot your group and start to make their way over. Well, three of them do. Aemond immediately turns and stalks off in a different direction. Helaena looks like she’s going to stop him, but Daeron shakes his head at her. You watch as Aemond disappears down an alley. When you turn back, you immediately lock eyes with Aly, who raises a brow and smirks a bit.

You scowl back at her, thinking back to the conversation you two had after getting your bike back.

“You didn’t mention he was hot!”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware the hotness of the mechanic was of any relevance!” Aly shot back sarcastically.

“You also didn’t mention he was…”

“Rude?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah, Aemond’s always been more on the antisocial side. Apparently the rudeness came in after the accident,” she whispers that last part (even though they were the only two people in the room).

“Accident?”

“Yeah. Something to do with his nephew. Never got the full story. All I know is that it really divided the family and they haven’t been the same since.”

That tension is evident in the strained smiles the remaining Targaryen siblings give your group.

“Hello nephews,” Aegon greets Jace and Luke. “And friends,” he finishes, sending a wink your way.

“Mind if we join you?” Helaena asks softly.

“Of course,” Jace answers, noticeably less tense with his aunt. Aegon and Daeron squeeze in on either side of Jace and Luke while Helaena takes a place on the edge of the bench next to you. You notice she has brightly colored earplugs in.

“I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Helaena,” she says softly. You tell her your name in response.

“The one who put Aemond in his place,” Aegon adds from his seat at the table.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him,” you say

“Don’t be. Aemond’s funny when he’s mad,” Daeron laughs. You furrow your brows.

“We didn’t even interact for that long. I didn’t think I would make much of an impression on him,” you ponder.

“Oh, Arm’s not used to people talking to him at all. People tend to give him a wide berth when they come to the garage,” Aegon explains. “And you not only tried to make conversation but called him out on his bullshit. Honestly, I’m impressed.”

“It’s a shame, really,” Helaena muses. “He’s really nice once you get to know him.

“Everyone is nice to you Hel,” Daeron drawls.

“Still,” Helaena huffs.

The topic is dropped as the table makes meaningless small talk with each other. You tuned most of the conversation out til Aegon clasped his hands together.

“Look, nephews,” Aegon starts, leaning in. “Word on the street is that you know the location of the next Dragon Rally.”

“How do you know we know?” Jace asks.

“Because you don’t shut up about it,” Aly responds, causing Cregan to snort. Jace frowns at her. “Didn’t Grandpa tell any of you about it?” He directs the question to his relatives.

“Of course not,” Daeron scoffs. An awkward silence falls over the table.

“Aaanyways,” Cregan drags out. “You gonna come with us?” He looks at you over his girlfriend’s head. Aly turns to look at you as well.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you reply. The Dragon Rally was a rather secretive event despite its popularity. All you knew was that it involved a grueling ride to whatever location was picked that year and that it was sponsored by the Targaryen family.

“I don’t think I’ll have quite gotten the hang of riding by the time it rolls around,” you continue.

“Oh, Aemond can teach you!” Helaena exclaims. Everyone at the table turns to look at her as if she’s grown a second head.

“What? Vaghar and Meraxes are similar enough models. Plus, it could help patch things up between them.”

“As much as I’d hate to throw you to the wolves, she has a point,” Aegon says. “If anyone’s got the stuff to whip you into shape in a short amount of time, it’s Aemond.”

You look down at the table, thinking on what they said. You’ve spent a long time on the outskirts of this community, wanting to join on the fun but never finding the opportunity—or the courage. You didn’t want to miss out on any more.

“Why doesn’t Aly do it? They’re friends after all,” Jace asks.

“Trust me, Aly couldn’t teach a fish how to swim,” Cregan laughs, earning an elbow in the side from his girlfriend.

“I’m a great teacher,” Aly snaps at Cregan, who laughs and kisses the top of her head.

“Of course you are, love,” he says softly. Daeron pretends to gag, causing Helaena to scold him.

“You know I’d help you,” she says to you. “But my nephew and his gremlin friends are coming into town.” You nod sympathetically. You’ve met Benji Blackwood before. He’s a nice kid, but if he and his friends are in town…Aly’s brother’s gonna need all the help he can get.

“And before you ask, I won’t have the time to lend my expertise. And neither will you,” Cregan explains to Jace.

“Come on, there’s no harm in at least asking,” Aegon teases. You look up at him.

“Alright,” you say simply, rising from the bench.

“Wait, I didn’t mean right now!” Aegon shouts as you walk off in the direction Aemond disappeared in earlier.

Aemond leans against the brick wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“You know that’s bad for you, right?”

Aemond’s eye lands on you. He gives you a once over before removing the cigarette and letting out a puff of smoke.

“Oh. You,” he said flatly.

“Yes. Me,” you parrot back, matching his flat delivery. You swear you see a slight twinkle in his eye.

“I didn’t think events like this were your thing,” you say, folding your arms across your chest.

“They’re not,” Aemond responds curtly. He takes another drag. “My siblings practically kidnapped me. They think I don’t get out enough,” He scoffs.

“Based on the mercifully brief interaction we had, I’d wager they’re right,” you quip.

“Did they send you to drag me out there,” he asks, taking another puff.

“No, actually. I wanted to ask you about something.”

He raises an eyebrow at this. “Did you fuck up your bike already?”

“No,” you huff. “Though if I had, I could probably fix it myself.”

He angles his body towards you, his shoulder braces against the wall. “Could you now?”

You thought he was mocking you, but the look in his eyes…he looks more curious than anything.

“I brought her to you ‘cause I hit a dead end. Thought it would be good to get a second pair of eyes to look her over. Oh!” You mentally kick yourself for your poor word choice. “I didn’t mean—“

“It’s fine. Happens all the time,” Aemond interjects, though you see his jaw clench. “So, what did you want to ask me?”

You took a deep breath. “The Dragon Rally is coming up. I want to go with my friends,” you start.

“That ride is brutal,” he says, frowning. “You’d have to train hard to be ready by the time it rolls around.”

“I know. Which is why I want you to teach me,” you finish, bracing yourself for his response.

He doesn’t say anything, only gapes at you as if you’d spouted the most ludicrous idea in the world. “Why on earth would you want me to teach you?” He asks.

“Your sister suggested it,” you reply shyly. “And Aegon seconded the idea.”

He lowers his gaze with a hmm. You shift from foot to foot, waiting for his response.

“It’s going to be a lot of work. To start from absolutely nothing—“

“We wouldn’t be starting from nothing!” You interrupt.

“Wouldn’t we?” He quips back.

“I know the basics,” you explain.

“The basics,” he scoffed.

“And what’s wrong with that?” you ask incredulously. His lips curl into a smirk as he leans in close enough for you to feel his breath on your ear.

“Riding a dragon,” he purrs, “is anything but basic.”

You weren’t sure if he meant for that to come off as seductive as it did.Gods, why does his voice have to be so sexy?

“So will you do it?” You ask tentatively.

“Hmmm. I’ll think about it,” he responds.

You nod your head. At least it wasn’t an outright no. Not wanting to push your luck, you turn to walk away.

“But if I do say yes, I’ll want something in return,” he calls after you.

You freeze, looking back at him over your shoulder. “And what exactly will that be?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” he replies. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you do anything you’re not comfortable with.” You let out a small sigh of relief.

“But you’ll owe me,” he finishes. “And I never forget a debt.”

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the freak in the penthouse part 6.2

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve.

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3

6.2 more than words

It was always tricky to focus on anything other than naked Steve in the luxurious walk-in wet room. Nevertheless, Steve seemed quieter than usual. Eddie found himself distracted in different ways from usual.

Okay, his first distraction was still Steve’s shiny body. He dripped with suds from the soap Eddie lathered across his chest, before teasingly wandering it lower. They were, in fact, similar in height and built, with Eddie maybe a fraction of an inch taller. Steve was maybe more trimly muscular. Yet sometimes, Steve seemed strangely… brittle?  

Nah. Not the right word. Eddie couldn’t quite nail it, and it was probably all in his ‘freakin’-the-shit-out-today’ head.

More palpably, the bright strip-lights revealed the deep shadows around Steve’s eyes, shouty as bruises. When Steve slid his wet palm to grasp Eddie’s semi, Steve yawned.

Eddie brushed Steve’s hand away, noting that, despite Eddie’s games with the soap, Steve was totally not turned on right now. “You all right, Babe? You look beat.” 

“I know what’ll pep me up.” Steve smiled tightly, turned away. He braced his hands to the tiles and spread his legs.

Eddie stroked Steve’s shoulder, eased him back around. He peeled wet hair from Steve’s puzzled face, and kissed him, deep and slow, amid the water and steam. The rumble of Eddie’s personal apocalypse grew deafening, and it wasn’t even about the money issues anymore. Dustin would sort that.

Levelling with Steve, whatever that meant, felt more important. And Eddie grew more tongue-tied than ever.

When they’d gotten out of the shower, Steve tied a towel around his waist and said, “What do you wanna do?”

This was the part where they usually ordered room service and got smashed. “Table-top pool?” suggested Eddie.

 “You hate that!” Steve threw his hands in the air, and his towel slipped beneath his hips. “I always wipe the floor with you.”

“Today could be different, Stevie.”

“Fat chance.”

The ruse worked. Steve drank beer, munched pretzels and potted endless silly balls. Meanwhile, Eddie reclined on his beanbag, chain-smoked Marlboro Lights, and necked Diet Coke. He kept his head clear, while he shared with Steve everything that happened before he’d buried himself in the penthouse.

It’d begun when he’d hired a studio, some session musos, and recorded several songs that he’d performed with Corroded Coffin. He tried to get Gareth and the guys on board. However, their lives had moved on after Eddie, in Gareth’s words, “Blew them off for yer egghead friends and to live the fucking high life.”

“I taped an EP, persuaded a few indie stores and Tower Records to stock it. It was a honking great floperooza, and then, while I was merrily licking my wounds, one of the music rags reviewed it.” Eddie sighed out a cloud of smoke. “They slammed it as the worst kind of rich-kid vanity record. You know, when I penned those songs, I hadn’t a dime to my name. So yeah, I bled, dude, and now I can’t seem to stop picking that scab.”

“It sucks. Anybody would bleed.” Steve lined up his last red. Instead of potting, he began to cough, dumping the cue down and doubling over. Eddie rushed forward, placing a hand on his  back.

“Stevie? You okay?”

Steve elbowed Eddie off, took a slurp of the Coke Eddie offered him. 

“Fucking pretzel got stuck,” wheezed Steve. “Rain check?” He dashed for the washroom, grabbing his uniform pants on the way. Eddie stubbed out his cigarette—probably a good call, before they both choked their lungs out, pretzels or otherwise.

Steve shortly returned, still shirtless and wearing his hotpants. He ruthlessly potted his final red: “Bam! Champ wins again. Your turn to break, Loser.”

They reset the table, and Eddie’s breakoff shot was typically disastrous. A ball shot up and landed in an enormous potted palm, which let Steve into the game. Eddie picked his nails ragged and continued his story.

“After that journo shot me down, I holed myself away in this dump, which was insane. I detest everything about this kind of forced-conformity shithole. I should give the dough to a homeless shelter. Instead, I can’t bring myself to leave the fortress of corporate evil! Which is beyond insane, and you know what I hate the most? I’m whining about it to you, like the woooorst kiiiind of entitled brat.”

Steve missed what looked like a screamingly easy shot, at least for him. “You don’t have to be poor to be down on yourself.”

Steve passed Eddie the cue and Eddie put it aside. He didn’t know what he was gonna say, only that he had to say something. Steve merely looked confused again, so Eddie grasped his hips, tugging him close.

“Listen to me, Stevie. Hiding myself away in a tarnished-ivory tower wasn’t the answer. Till you came along to rescue me.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Steve flashed an apparently delighted grin, flung his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. “Your hair’s not that long, Rapunzel.”

Eddie went in for the kill: “I like you, Steve. I literally never said that to anybody before, and—”

“Yeah, I can tell that.” Steve’s bitchy tone didn’t reach his wide eyes.

“Ah shit, this place has turned me soft. Look, I mean it from the top of my greasy rocker head to the tips of my dainty metal toesies—I really like you. Look, I can’t hang here forever…”

…BUT I DON’T WANT THIS THING BETWEEN US TO END.

Eddie wanted to holler it so loud the chandelier would crash from the ceiling and wake the dead in Dallas. Instead, he found himself saying:

“...and I know it sounds dumb, but I wanna help you, like you’ve helped me, and—” 

“Zip it, Eds.” Steve pressed his fingertips to Eddie’s lips and rattled out a dry laugh. “Yeah, I know what it looks like, me peddling my ass and all, but the truth is, I don’t have to do this anymore. You were an exception.” He quirked a half-smile: “Tonight’s about you breaking free, not me. C’mon, man—let's party.”

....

Chapter 7 on tumblr

Chapter 7 on AO3

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕 writing this sort of fic can be lonely, and I appreciate it very much!

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 7or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[olath124]

✨️TELL ME ABOUT YOUR OCS✨️

Random shot from my... At this point scary big stash of shots. And brace yourself... It's long.

♡Name: Violet Wright.

♡Nicknames: V, just V.

♡Age: 32

♡Pronouns: She, her.

♡Sexuality: Pansexual. Doesn't care about the gender, has to feel the ✨️vibe✨️.

♡Hair Color and style:

Her natural hair color is dark brown, but she always dyes them in turquoise with pink accents. She varies a lot with her hairstyle. Usually, she keeps her hair long but mostly tied up in buns. Only when she feels really comfortable she keeps her hair down. Since she’s with Kurt she wears her hair more and more often down, preferring softer and more feminine hairstyles. After the surgery, she’ll cut her hair short and return to her natural color, but she’ll grow it back and will go back to her turquoise and pink color. 

♡Eye Color:

Her natural color is green, she tries to keep her Kiroshi as close as possible to her real color.

♡Height: 165 cm (5’5”)! Short queen! But well, Hansen canonically is 5’9”, so he can suck it!

♡Body Type: She’s athletic. She’s used to running around a lot.

♡Personality:

Violet would say normal. She’s a bit skittish with relationships, a bit insecure, very irrational and volatile.

Really affectionate, needy and whiny with those she really cares about.

♡Tattoos:

A tattoo Misty designed for her with a mandala on her neck. (I want to redraw it and make it more like a big peony, tough, we’ll see! Yes, Violet is a big WIP)

♡Piercings: Many on her ears, nothing else.

♡Any definable features such as: Birthmarks, Scars, Freckles, Beauty Marks, Accent when they talk, Lisp, Natural slurring of words, Walk with a subtle limp, ect.

She has a bunch of birthmarks on her face (not really freckles) and many different scars around her body. On her right leg now she has a scar in a shape of “K” that the two dumb-dumbs keep refreshing now and then.

♡Hobbies

Does killing Maelstrom and Scavs count as a hobby? If not, she likes to cook (with poor results because she can’t really follow instructions and tends to improvise). Only, and I mean it, only when she’s alone (or well, with Johnny at most) she sings. She’s actually not bad at it!

♡Gang/Occupation {Mox, Max Tac, etc}

None. She’s a free merc. 

Who are we kidding? At the end she’s with Barghest. Or at least under their protection.

♡Do they smoke?

She started to smoke with Johnny. Now she smokes with Kurt. Not really a habit, she smokes only if she’s stressed out or if the person she’s talking to is smoking.

♡Do they drink? Is so, what's their poison of choice?

As with smoking, she’s a social drinker. Doesn’t drink alone, but loves to drink in company. She rarely gets drunk, though. Doesn’t really like to lose control, only to get tipsy to make social interactions easier!

♡What do they usually wear on a normal day?

Synth-leather pants, a t-shirt or a top, a synth-leather jacket, sneakers, or boots. She loves black and blue stuff.

♡What do they wear when they "Get dressed up"? And what would be considered a "special occasion" to them {such as an "Oh they're gonna be there so I have to look my best." Or an "It's our anniversary".}

A special occasion is when Kurt asks her to get dressed up. She doesn’t care about dresses too much, but she likes it when he buys her dresses and asks her to wear them. Her favorite one is a short blue velvet dress, with a deep cleavage and exposed back with little dainty silver chains that cover the cleavage.  Maybe because it’s his first gift to her.

♡What do they smell like? {For example: they smell like cinnamon flavored liquor, cigarettes, leather, and motor oil.}

Blood, sweet and jasmine. After she got her shit together mostly simply jasmine.

♡How do they walk? Do they sway their hips? Do they walk with a sense of determination? Do they bounce as they walk? Etc.

When she doesn’t think of it she walks almost as if she’s hiding. Always keeping her surroundings under control, finding possible hiding spots or advantage points. When she’s in a good place or feels protected she’s straighter and more confident in her stride.

♡Are they more of an early bird or a night owl?

An always exhausted pigeon. She doesn’t have fixed hours and sleeps whenever she can. Used to sleep in the morning but with Kurt she got used to waking up (at least briefly) at 6 to have breakfast together and a morning talk.

♡If you had to use one word to define them, what word would you use?

Impulsive.

♡What words or catchphrases do they say that's unique to that character?

For everyone probably some kind of swear: “Fuck!” Or “Fuck It!”

For Kurt… they have a ritualistic phrase she uses when she needs him to be rough with her and it's: “I want you. I need you. I'll always be yours” (the final part may vary). So it's her phrase in his eyes.

♡Favorite Season

Winter.

♡Favorite type of weather {Thunderstorms, sunny, etc}

She likes those cold winter sunny mornings. She’d love to see the snow, but not a thing she’s gonna see in NC.

♡Do they have someone they're with relationship-wise? If so, who?

Yeah. Where she’s at in (my yet unpublished) writing she’s officially with Hansen. In the published part they are together only in his head XD.

♡Main Ship/Pairings

Kvio. So yeah, Kurt/Violet.

♡Side Pairings

Do I have to count them??? Between official characters only, Vio has been with: Jackie, Judy, River. Not Panam because she’s not interested (but damn, Vio tried hard!). There’s also the weird thing she has with Johnny. If she never met Hansen they would have probably end up together.

♡Favorite/Self-indulgent Pairings

The favorite remains Kvio… The self-indulgent is an Aon/Vio/Alt sandwich XD! 

♡How do they show affection to their loved one?

TOUCH. She don’t generally like to touch people… But with people she likes she’s very touchy. Not in an extreme way, but if she’s close to a person she loves she’s probably touching their arm, or slipping her hand under their or laying her head on their shoulder. She is really affectionate and really needs a lot of physical contact.

♡How do they sit in a chair?

Normally? But usually quite comfortably, legs slightly open or a leg over the other. Definitely not feminine or elegant

♡How do they sit in a chair {uncomfortable version}

Legs closed, straight back, probably fidgeting with her hands.

♡What do they wear to bed?

T-shirt and underwear. But she’s been gifted a blue silk nightgown and she likes it too. She still thinks it’s too fancy for sleeping in it, though.

♡How do they usually sleep? {Side sleeper, back, fetal position, backwards, nest sleeper, blanket mountain, etc}

She starts in fetal position, or all cuddly, she ends sleeping on her back, sometimes she throws her arms and legs around.

♡How do they sleep in a place they don't know? {Can't due to anxiety, in small bursts of sleep that are short lived, holding themselves, etc}

If she's in a “safe space” the same as usual. If it’s not so safe she wakes up now and then checking her surroundings. She also is very receptive to any possible sound.

♡Do they have to have a form of "white noise" in order to sleep? {The sound of a fan, the sound of rain, the sound of a city, etc}

No, but she appreciates the sound of the waterfall behind Kurt’s bed a lot.

♡What's a place they go to feel comfortable, that's their "spot" they always go when they're upset?

El Coyote Cojo, Misty’s shop, or Viktor’s clinic. Like a stray cat who makes a tour of her favorite places for food and cuddles.

♡What do they do when they're nervous? {Fidget with jewelry, pick at nails, bite nails/lips, play with knife/zippo lighter, etc}

If she needs to fake it, she focuses on something repetitive. Like the tap of her finger on something. If not she usually avoids other people's eyes and tries to make herself invisible, she tends to do things with her hands but it's more uncontrollable.

♡What is their "tell" for lying?

She tends not to watch people in the eyes when she’s lying about something personal. If it’s professional stuff, though it’s quite harder to tell.

♡What is their favorite color?

Turquoise and blue.

♡Favorite flower/plant

Peonies.

♡Favorite sweet of choice

She's not really a sweet person. But well, who doesn't like chocolate?

♡Do they have any pets? If so, tell me about them

She had Nibbles, but with her erratic schedules she preferred to leave him with Misty.

*Takes a deep, sad breath* Violet Norris is technically her pet. And well, Shark Norris, too. If Kurt really has a “Proudest Shark Daddy” shirt, she has a “Proudest Shark Mommy'' shirt. Just to freak her out. That shirt is always in the laundry basket anyway. And if she wears it she becomes extra clumsy and spills something on it.

But of course, she's not allowed to tinker with the aquarium or to feed them without supervision. Not that she would anyway.

♡What are their triggers {If they have any}? If so, what calms them down?

The only real trigger for her is the feeling of abandonment or the fear of losing people she cares about. Only realizing that she’s not being left alone, preferably with physical contact calms her down.

♡If they could visit anywhere in the world, where would they go and why?

She… doesn’t know! She has seen very little outside of Night City and Atlanta, so the world… It feels so overwhelming. 

♡What is their favorite comfort meal?

Mama Welles’s food. Doesn’t really matter what!

♡Do they have a food they hate?

Food is food, she could eat everything. But well, she doesn’t love industrial-made food, but that’s what she eats the most anyway.

♡What is their favorite {non-alcoholic} drink?

She likes Tiancha Pomegranate.

♡What are their plans for the future {if they have any}?

She doesn’t make plans for the future. But if she could she would keep everything as it is. Living in the Black Sapphire with Kurt, doing gigs without being completely swallowed by them.

♡What's a song that "fits" them?

There’s a whole playlist…

But if I had to choose one this is her song.

♡Give me 5 facts/random bits of information about them

She once cooked a cake that tasted like fish. She still doesn't know what went wrong that time. Poor Jackie, it was for his birthday.

Still has a shark plushie and a T-shirt Kurt gave her when she was 3 years old. She couldn't sleep without both when she was a kid.

Violet secretly likes both Shark and Violet Norris a lot. Mostly because they bring out a silly/boomer side in their owner she didn't know before.

Violet can't dance. For real. She simply wiggles her arms around without any coordination.

She knitted a sweater for Nibbles. Never finished it though.

♡Give me their backstory {can be long, or brief.}

Born in 6th Street’s turf. Her father killed her mother, but she doesn't remember most of it. It was gruesome, though, so that even a 15-year-old Kurt was shaken by it at the time. He killed her father and she was under his protection for a few years until he joined the army. In one day she lost both her best friend and her mother because he used to lie about her death.

Since then she hated living there but didn't know what else to do until she ran into Valentino's turf at 13.

She was lucky enough to meet Jackie and become friends with him. He introduced her to his mom and friends. The first time she felt loved like in a family. They eventually got together from 15 to 18. But she didn't love his affiliation with Valentinos and to avoid being sucked into another gang she broke up with him and moved to Atlanta. She moved back after 5 years. Jackie was no longer with Valentinos and they started to work on gigs together as friends. They never got back together, though, in truth they really weren't right for each other.

That's until the Heist and everything else (which happens a lot of years later).

She met Kurt again, but they didn't recognize each other and hooked up. After they found out who the other was, everything seemed terribly (and a bit freakily) right and perfect. (The truth is that if they did know beforehand they would have lost every inch of sexual tension between them xD)

Now they're mostly together. With ups and downs because communication is hard for both of them.

♡Free Space! Give me any sort of extra information about them you'd like to share

Really, I think I've exhausted everything xD

~

Template from @vincentmatthews, template here. Have fun !

Can I tag people??? Of course I'll tag people!

Obviously with no pressure.

@ouroboros-hideout @blackrevell @cybervesna @cyberholic77 @streetkid-named-desire

@astellehope @dustymagpie @sofia-in-nc @theviridianbunny

And everyone who wants to!

[thedgeofreality]

Burning Love

summary: Earlier that day you met Elvis in the lobby of the hotel. He was silent and mysterious. Yet he wanted to get to know you better, so he invited you to dinner and things go a little.... off the rails.

warnings: can't really think of any. this is just a fluff once again. elvis being elvis. doing dumb stuff.

pairing: reader x big daddy e

wc: 1.6K

It was evening and you made your way to the restaurant in the hotel. Earlier that day, you met a certain man in the lobby named Elvis. He was mysterious and one of the best-dressed men you had ever seen. He wore makeup, but somehow the makeup made him look a lot more masculine. The soft smudgy eyeliner made his bright blue eyes stand out more, along with the light mascara on his eyelashes. When your eyes fell on him in the lobby he was wearing a plain black suit, with an olive green button-up underneath it. Finishing his look with a silky brown scarf and a gold belt with chains that looked very heavy to wear and expensive. It was so obvious he had money, as he looked expensive. But especially the jewelry he was wearing. You could tell that the diamond rings he was wearing were most definitely real

Elvis barely said a word to you when he saw you. All he knew was that he wanted to get to know you. He told you to come see him in the restaurant that same day. You don't know why but you agreed to. Usually, you wouldn't do such a thing as he is literally a stranger, but something about him intrigued you.

So here you are in the restaurant, scanning through the crowd of people to find him. The restaurant was dimly lit with only candles on the table and one yellow light in each corner. The walls were painted black and the carpet on the floor was dark red. The restaurant almost gave a vampirey vibe. You knew the restaurant's vibe was just to Elvis' liking.

You looked around to see him sitting in the corner of the restaurant, trying to avoid everyone around him as much as possible. You made your way through the restaurant excusing yourself as you accidentally hit someone on the head with your bag. His blue eyes met yours and you could feel your cheeks turning bright red.

You sat down in front of him and observed him. Thankfully the table he chose was near one of the yellow lights so you could see him better. He had put on makeup like the first time you met him in the lobby. You could see some mascara and eyeliner on his eyes. His lashes were long and voluminous, it sure could make any woman jealous. His lashes were so long that they were resting against the glass of his colored sunglasses. Why he was wearing sunglasses inside was a mystery to you.

This time Elvis was wearing a long black coat and leather black gloves on his hands. He was once again fully clothed in black, in contrast with the bright blue and purple scarf he wore around his neck.

You found him strange. His style was different and you didn't know whether you liked it or not. You were used to men not putting any effort into their looks, yet there he was looking fashionable every day. It made him stand out. Elvis wasn't the kind of person to go by unnoticed. Eyes were on him at all times. And he knew that, despite wanting to be secretive and not wanting to be seen, he liked all the attention. He felt empowered by it

"Are you gonna keep staring at me or are you finally gonna tell me your name?" Elvis said, snapping you out of your daydream about him. You looked up to meet his eyes again.

"Y/N" You said softly, taken aback by his boldness. "I didn't catch that. Speak up, baby." He replied, slightly leaning forward over the table almost knocking the candle over that was in the middle of the table.

"My name is Y/N" You said louder this time. Elvis leaned back in his chair, nodding. "Y/N." He whispered to himself. "That's a nice name."

Then an awkward silence fell between the two of you. You didn't know what to say or do. All you knew was that you wanted to go back to your room and hide from him. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. The sound of the clock ticking seemed to get louder, mocking the silence and all the seconds you were wasting by not talking and getting to know him better. Then the clock ticking got overruled by other people their conversations. All their voices started mixing, occasionally one word sounding clear as day. It felt as if they were also making fun of you, you knew that couldn't be farther from the truth but yet you believed it. You looked around the room nervously, there were a bunch of different types of people in the restaurant. One man sitting next to a woman, who very clearly didn't enjoy his company. The other sitting at the bar alone, wanting nothing to do with anyone.  

You looked back at Elvis and his eyes were still on you. Like he was noting your every move, trying to figure out your personality and the way you and your mind worked. Elvis started bouncing his leg nervously and bit his bottom lip. While bouncing his leg he accidentally lifted the table and this time he did knock the candle over, falling on the cotton tablecloth. "Well god damn." He said, standing up to get out of his chair. The candle wax was spilling everywhere and before you could do anything the table was set aflame. "Table on fire guys!" He exclaimed to the waiters who were standing at the bar, pointing to the table. All eyes were on them and this time they were judging, hard. Everyone started whispering things to the person sitting next to them. You felt anxiety hit you hard as Elvis grabbed your hand. "Come on dear, this isn't our problem. Let's go somewhere else." You laughed softly and followed him. You heard the workers yelling at the two of you as you ran outside.

When outside, you looked at your hands. You were now officially holding hands with him. You felt the same heat hit you, as the heat from inside. Except this time nothing was on fire, well maybe you were burnin up. It felt like someone lit up a match inside your heart and blew it out immediately. You felt weird. Elvis quickly let go of your hand and cleared his throat.

"Well that was something." He said while you were walking down the street to god knows where. You laughed, not believing the whole situation and what you just witnessed. "Do you think we're allowed back in?" You asked. "They have to allow it, we paid." You nodded, agreeing.

You kept your gaze on the floor, you were unsure of where the two of you were going. But right now you were too afraid to ask. Sure, you felt a little more comfortable around Elvis, but despite that, you still were very much intimated by him. Something about him scared you, you weren't sure what. Maybe it was his mysterious behavior, maybe it was because you didn't understand him and he was complicated or maybe it was the unkown factor. That had to be it, right? No one likes the unknown. The unknown being like your first day on your new job, or stepping into a room with a blindfold on.

With all these thoughts, you didn't notice how long you guys had been walking. And how silent it had been between you two.

Elvis looked down at you smiling, standing in front of you. "What?" You asked. "I just wanted to show you a place, where I love going when I need to clear my mind." He replied and stepped aside. Allowing you to see the beautiful landscape in front of you.

They were surrounded by trees and there was a small pond with a bridge over it. Some of the pond was lined with rocks. There was wildlife growing in and around the pond. Water lilies were floating on the water, while fish were swimming in the water. You smiled and looked at everything in awe. Taking the beautiful nature in. Elvis took your hand again and led you to the bridge. Standing on the bridge, looking down at the fish in the water.

"Thank you for showing me this." You said and Elvis stared at her, smiling. "You're welcome."

The two of you stayed there for a while, just having small talk and staring at the water. It was getting late, together you sat down on the bridge and stared at the sky above them. The sun was setting and the sky created a pink and purple gradient. It was truly magical to see. "I think we have to go now." Elvis said while standing up, getting rid of all the dirt that got on his pants. You nodded and stood up.

Together you calmly walked back to the hotel, not having a care in the world. When you were back in the hotel again, the staff still seemed somewhat upset at you. But honestly, who can blame them? After all, Elvis set a table on fire. Elvis just laughed at them. How could they not see the comedy in it?

Elvis walked upstairs to his hotel room. you followed carefully. Instead of going to your room, you followed Elvis. This was a taste of his own medicine when he tried following you earlier that day. Except he didn't seem to notice that you were following him. He shut the door right in your face. You stared at the door that was just slammed in your face, as you build up the courage to knock.

You knocked on the door and shortly after, Elvis opened the door smiling. He leaned against the door frame, and hummed. "Come on in, honey."

[krabkrab-wontshutup]

A Dove among Ravens

Aka I redesigned Dove Grayson, my old Magnus Chase oc!! His name is now Nastasiya, and he is still the son of Aphrodite, but is no longer the grandchild of loki. Also, ive never posted about him before, so heres a long ass list of all my notes about him!! Content warning for a very weird death, this is the riordanverse we’re talking about.

Full Name: Nastasiya Grayson

Gender: FtM

Family: [Mother] Aphrodite | [Father] George Grayson

Age: 16

Species: Demigod of Aphrodite

Affiliation: Valhalla

Residence: Floor 19

Weapons: Chain sword - A sword that, when you hit a button on the hilt, turns into a chain-bladed whip. Becomes a rose gold chain necklace when glamored. Designed by a hephaestus kid.

Status: Einherjar

----------

History: Nastasiya is the demigod son of the goddess Aphrodite and George Grayson, a passionate historian whose adventures took him across the globe. After being sent to camp half-blood two years prior, Nastasiya was killed at sixteen trying to defend a group of schoolchildren from a nemean lion, which had been mistakenly placed in a zoo.

Fatal Flaw: Pride

Physical Appearance: Nastasiya has fiery red hair, which cascades around his neck in soft ringlet curls. His eyes seem to shift in color with an almost magical quality, adding an air of mystery to his gaze and always matching his outfit. His soft skin is slightly tanned, and he’s absolutely covered in freckles. He wears a lot of light colors- whites, pinks, and beiges mostly. A rose gold chain, which becomes his sword when needed, is a consistent accessory, as rose gold is the only metal he incorporates into his style. He takes pride in his large hooked nose and is often seen sporting round rose gold glasses.

Personality: He possesses a flair for the dramatic, embodying the very essence of his mother’s aesthetic- Roses, Flowing silk, pearls, and perfection. His taste for the finer things in life is evident in everything he does. Like his father, Nastasiya is a romantic at heart; he often finds himself lost in poetic thoughts, expressing himself with an extensive vocabulary that captivates those around him.

----------

General Abilities: Poetry, Strange knack for identifying perfumes and colognes, Able to lie very well and can tell when other people are lying, never messes up nail polish when applying it, The god of vibe reading, Master of comebacks and witty remarks, Able to speak fluent french, Always gives the best advice he can (When he’s not hissing and telling people to kill their abusers)

Demigod Powers: Charmspeak, Emotion reading, Amokinesis, Communication with Aphrodite’s sacred animals (Doves, Sparrows, Swans, Dolphins), (After death) Blessing of Aphrodite (Never has to worry about his looks ever because favoritism), [He’s supposed to be more powerful than your average aphrodite kid because he’s kind of the favorite]

----------

CONCEPT: The first Greek demigod to enter Valhalla (That we know of). Idk i figured greek demigods die in battle all the time, why not consider if one of them was found by a valkyrie? Besides, it's not like demigods of aphrodite and demigods of freyja are all that different. My idea is that the runes misidentify his vibes as freyja vibes but he’s all like “Uh, that doesn’t sound right; I know my mom is Aphrodite.” Cue cup dropping because Greek demigods in valhalla?? Unheard of before now!

SUITE: The room has a table in the center and a circular bed in one corner, with a lace and pearl canopy curtain hanging around it and gorgeous plush blankets. There’s a tv stand on the side of the room opposite the bed, and a wall of books near the bed. One large, circular window sits at the back wall. It has two latches at the center, and curtains in the same style as the canopy bed. A picture frame sat on the window sill. The picture is of Nastasiya, Aphrodite, and George at seaworld for Nastasiya’s twelfth birthday - the only time Aphrodite ever visited. Next to the picture frame is a bag of pearlescent pink runes. The room is lit by candlelight, and the wall directly behind the bed has all the posters from his bunk at camp half blood, as well as a “Cabin 10” poster.

[all-that-tmnt-jazz]

hey howdy hey, guess who it is (hey now, back again!) i know i keep coming back again and again, please don't get sick of me/lh!

ok ok so uh,,, how would the turtles react to having an s/o who is VERY into the decora kei subgenre (i.e, bright colors, puffy underskirts/clothing, a thousand different hair clips, sanrio themed purses/accesories, etc.)... but they're in trouble- they overhear (like the s/o scream or something), come to help, and like,,, the s/o has everything under control. the patent leather pumps they always wear are now stepping down HARD on the assailant, that little cute My Melody purse now has the straps wrapped around their neck in a chokehold, etc.

tbh, I have never heard of that style before now, but with the contrast between the initial description (plus a Google search) and the end of your prompt, I'm all for it.

And hey y'all, I am back from the dead. If I'm honest, I likely won't post as much but I'm here now. Lets a go.

Leo

He would try to understand the subgenre/subculture so he can keep an eye out for things you would like

He often has April do shopping runs when he finds out a specific store has something you would like

(She always tells him, "You owe me one," but doesn't really mean it. She does love the things he picks out for you.)

He would most definitely panic if you texted him you were in trouble

You guys have your locations shared with each other, which helped him find you quite easily

But when he got there, he actually panicked even more

He was also kind of scared (But he'll never admit that)

There were a total of four assailants

You had the chain of your purse choking one of them

Another was already unconscious

A third was halfway conscious, and Leo was sure he had at least three broken bones in his legs.

The fourth you had pinned under your foot- the heel of your shoe was one millimeter away from breaking the skin of his neck.

You look at him and smile for a second

"Wanna help?"

"Oh shit, yeah."

He takes care of the one who had your purse chain around his neck

You end up kicking the one under your foot, which ends up knocking him unconscious

"What happened?"

"I panicked. I was just trying to get some snacks."

You pulled out a small pack of macarons from a nearby bakery

He just awkwardly laughed at the fact you went from knocking out four grown men to your usual self

You notice but don't say anything

Raph

He handles everything a bit differently.

He finds Decora Kei a bit weird at first

He doesn't get the appeal

But then you guys actually meet in person, and he gets it

Compared to the bland colors of the city, he loves the colors of the style

He doesn't go as far as Leo does with getting you gifts, but he does knit some things for you once in a while

Bright pink fingerless gloves, a bright yellow scrunchie, thick multicolored socks for when the colder months come, and other stuff like that

When you received the first gift, you were confused

You loved it but were confused

But then you saw pieces of yarn stuck to his clothes occasionally, and you put the pieces together.

He would leave them on your back patio and stuff for you to find.

Anyways

He would get freaked out if you said you were in trouble

He was able to find you, and when he did, he was afraid

Very afraid

There were three unconscious men at your feet, and you were currently beating the ever-loving shit out of a fourth

It took you a minute to notice him

But when you did, the guy you were beating was unconscious

"Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"If you keep knitting me things, you'll be good."

You laughed when he got flustered.

Donnie

He knew of Decora Kei before you guys met.

When he found out you were into it, too, he was so excited

He is able to 3-D Print some personalized hair clips, bracelets, earrings, etc.

If there was anything you wanted, he would make it for you.

He had always wanted to make stuff like that before but never knew what to do with it after- he knew his brothers would judge him for it.

But now that he's with you, he has a reason to make everything and has someone to share that general interest with.

When you called him to say something was wrong, he was out on patrol and absolutely panicked.

He felt that you were stronger than you let on but had no way to prove it, so he had offensive weapons ready- just in case.

But when he got there, he was immediately proven right

You had only one shoe on- the other was heel-deep in the throat of one of your attackers.

You had knocked the second attacker unconscious with your bag

You also had the third attacker at knifepoint with his own knife to his throat.

"Hi, Don."

"Hi? That's what you have to say?"

"What else is there to say?"

"Fair enough."

He tied up the one you had at knifepoint as you tied up the one you had knocked unconscious.

Neither of you worried about the one with a shoe sticking out of his throat.

Neither of you talk about this in the presence of his brothers, either.

Mikey

He immediately loves all of the colors.

He begs you for some of your spare hair clips even though you don't know why

Then, after a while, see the clips on the strings of his bandana and his necklaces.

He loved watching you get ready.

Seeing you go from your boring work uniform to your usual style fascinated him.

He valued every part of your passion for Decora Kei, which you're not quite used to yet.

Having someone who appreciates your style "just because" is a foreign concept.

He's also your biggest fan, especially when you're trying new makeup.

Anyways

When he gets your text saying you're in trouble, he almost brushes it off

Many of your older skirts had been ripping lately, so he thought another had torn.

But then you called, and he heard other people in the background that didn't sound all too friendly.

When he found you, to say he was surprised was an understatement

"When did you get a bedazzled pocket knife?"

"Last week- I had it personalized."

He piled the three attackers in the back of the alley, left a quick note for Vincent apologizing, and then took you home.

He would not stop admiring your pocket knife.

[ransprang]

[Ko-Fi Request]

Hi there! I've really been looking for a JJBA (parts 1 to 6) matchup and I really hope you would be able to find the most fitting character for me :)

So, to introduce myself I'm pretty tall, muscular and fit I have long fushia dyed hair, pretty pale skin and brown doe eyes(I also look tired all the time) My sense of style is pretty one of a kind,I really like skirts and turtleneck sweaters . I usually wear a lot of jewelry and chains in my outfit and I have a HUGE love for hats, all types of hats.

I may come off as cold and tense at first glance but I'm a big sweetheart which tend to make people confused I'm very shy and hardly open up, that's why I would need an understanding and kind match I'm also not talkative but a great listener, I love hearing about any types of stories.

I love animals and nature as well as art and painting which is my favorite hobby but I'm also extremely adventurous, and love traveling and discovering new places. Also have a big interest for the unknown, mysteries and out of the common stuff as well as a soft spot for gory stuff sometimes I'm not easy to scare at all, only people can freak me out

When it comes to my S/O, gender doesn't matter as I am pansexual, all I have to say on appearance is that I prefer longer hair.

I really would like a Jojo characters who has the same thrill for adventure but who is also extraordinary sweet and protective Loyalty is highly preferred as I am deadly jealous when it comes to love

thank you anon for your ko-fi request <3 if anyone wants a match up like this here is our link!

Your match up is……OKUYASU!!!

How you meet: It was raining heavily as you walked back to your house, when a man crouching over a cardboard box in the midst of the storm without an umbrella caught your eye. Not being the person to just approach a stranger on the street, you ignored it and kept walking on…until you heard the softest little meows. You froze, looking around until you realized it was coming from that box. Okuyasu noticed you looking at him and waved you over. He started talking about the abandoned little kittens and how he wanted to get them to a safe place. You had no choice but to offer your umbrella and walk him home with the kittens. Immediately he started gushing about how pretty you are and tried to impress you. You weren’t too impressed but it got you both talking and by the end of your walk, you were both friends.

Okuyasu doesn’t mind if you’re quiet at the start of the relationship. He is a really chatty fella and will tell you a ton of stories. He’d be the type of guy to text you updates about what he’s eating and send you random selfies.

Once you open up he’ll be a bit shaken by how much of a sweetheart you are, but he’ll love you even more for it. He’d think he’s a lucky guy and both of you would be a super sweet couple making others be jealous of y’all (especially Josuke).

You won’t be scared of people as long as you are with Okuyasu. He is a scary looking fella himself and he’d stare down people who look at you funny. Or he’d try to distract you from looking at scary looking people.

If you tell him you like gore he’ll beat people up and then look over at you “HAHAHA DO YOU LIKE THAT BABE. AREN’T I SO COOL.”

He may borrow some of your jewelry and chains because it looks really cool on you, complimenting his massive gold dollar chain on his chest.

He’d be down to explore untouched parts of Morioh and just roam around aimlessly. Once you both save up money he’d take you to other parts of Japan and try cool things like jet skiing or hiking.

When Okuyasu realizes that you have a preference for long haired men, he spends all night the day before meeting you, trying to straighten his hair to make it longer. He ends up with the jagged pieces of hair behind his neck being half an inch longer.

He makes a point to highlight it to you during your date. Okuyasu loves you so much that he would wear a different hat everyday, and he may even learn to sew to make you some cute crocheted ones. This manly man will only be soft for you.

You being tall, muscular and fit, blend in perfectly with the Jojo universe. You have no problem when Okuyasu, who is similarly tall, muscular and fit, takes off running somewhere randomly.

your gore,

admins sar, sav & san

[stwolfhardimaginez]

~ in which heather o’reily moves to nueva york from California After a series of unfortunate events. Tw: violence, swearing, angst, nsfw, sexual assault and or talks of it, also age gap!

The sound of my pen tapping against my notebook, grounded me as i zoned out all the other chatter in the classroom, waiting for the professor to get here. I shamefully eavesdropped in on hearing the two girls with curly blonde hair and baby pink bows tied into their half up- half down hair styles.

I looked down at my watch, 7:45AM. When did they have the time to do their hair? I barely made it here on time.

I overheard their conversation, "I purposely failed just to see his face again, i wished at 11:11 last night he'll make eye contact with me." I overheard one of the girls say as the other giggled, "Dania, you're bad.. to do all that." She laughed in her valley girl accent.

I laughed to myself, I heard the door shut as i heard heavy footsteps quickly pass me as a tall man, probably bout 6'9 walked to the front of the classroom, wearing tight black dress pants with a baby blue dress shirt tucked in, he turned around so he was facing us, the first couple buttons not buttoned, his dark curly chest hair peeking out. He had gold chains dangling down his neck, i took a note of it. I don't blame the girls for how attractive he was.

He was like a Greek god that just came right out of a Greek mythology book, I thought to myself.

My eyes scanned up to travel over his olive skinned face, his curly hair framed his face, his brown eyes scanning the classroom, lastly making eye contact with me, my heartbeat speeding up.

"Good morning, I am Miguel O'Hara, you will address me as Mr. O'Hara. I will be your professor for the duration of this course. A few things to start off with, I don't want any slackers in my class, You are expected to be here on time, ready to learn. This is Academic Biochem not Kindergarten. You guys are all adults anyway." He trailed off, he had a very strong rich Mexican accent that every word he said, the accent dropped off the words.. it was making me feel things. Outrageous things.

"Questions?" He continued, as i blinked, not daring to put my hand up, zoning out as i thought about anything other than this.

The bell ringing made all the students get up like the classroom was on fire, i took my time, putting my belongings in my bag. I walked up to his desk that was in the left side of the classroom, wiping my sweaty palms on my skirt, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"Hi, I'm Heather O'Reily, i was just wondering if you offer tutor sessions?" I ask as he blinks at me, walking closer to me. "Are you not confident in passing this class?" He asked bluntly. Taking me by surprise. He was attractive but an asshole, the worst combo.

"I-I am, just wanna be sure. You know." I said as he looked down at me with hooded eyes. "You sure? You don't seem to confident in that answer." He said as i took a deep breath.

"It's a yes or no question, if you don't offer it, just say that." I said rolling my eyes, losing my temper "Forget it anyway." I finished as I turned away and stormed out of the classroom. Part of me embarrassed i walked up to him and even asked him that, i felt my face got hot from the embarrassment.

A new town, new school and making new friends was fine to me but a dickhead professor was not what I wanted in my cards.

In my own thoughts i didn't even wanna think about seeing his smug face tomorrow, it bothered me how attracted I was to him, a pretty face but an ugly personality.

As I walked out of the classroom, I walked straight to the main office, in an attempt to switch to a different Academic Bio Chem class without him.

"I'm very sorry but you are not able to switch out, all other classes are full... you'll have to wait." The lady wearing big red framed glasses over her eyes said, i huffed. "Alright.. Thanks for your time," I mumbled.

I left the office as I kept my eyes down on my shoes as I made it out of the learning hall.. on my way to my apartment ~ I just moved to Nueva York from California.. it was very different from what I was used to.. but sudden changes turn to having to adapt to whatever you can, specially your mother dying and the next step is finding a place to live. I wanted a new start and always thought about living here, something always attracted me to here, so i impulsively packed up all my stuff, flew over and went to an animal shelter and bought a cat... to keep me sane when all else fails :,) .

Walking down the sidewalk as I left, I thought about how rude and dismissive Mr O'Hara was to me, I just wanted extra help and he was so ignorant... no wonder all the girls-

I heard a loud car drive by me than screech on their brakes, it was a black bmw matte paint job covered over it. That must've been expensive, they backed up. Why are they backing up? Great I'm gonna be kidnapped.

The driver is now right beside me as I try not to look and keep walking.. "You must be cold," I heard the familiar voice of Mr. O'Hara.

Just great.

[thelivingmemegod]

Thoughts on the outfits from the Monster High live action movies (this is gonna be a long post I can already feel it)

I’m working off promo shots cuz I’m Not watching these movies my head would explode.

Toralei: she’s first cuz she’s only in the one movie.

I like most of her outfit. Her skirt feels out of place because the colors and print feel random. Nothing else like that shows in her outfit so it looks a bit…off. This could honestly just be fixed with more drafts

Frankie

Movie one:

G E T THIS PARTY CITY, HALLOWEEN SPIRIT PLASTIC CHAIN HAVING MF-ERY OUT OF HERE P L E A S E. The worst part about their outfit is that it’s so fuckin’ plain??? Like the dress is completely patternless, the chains do pull the eye down but they’re also placed so they hang over the front and not their hip which looks SUPREMELY awkward, the tie is the most eye catching thing on them and that’s bad because it pulls too much focus from their face! The stiff collar shirt, tights and shoes are just fine, I like the idea of them trying to mix these very different looks and the ripped tights pull interest to the legs after the VOID OF NOTHINGNESS THAT IS THE PINAFORE DRESS.

Movie two:

This. This is SO MUCH BETTER.

While it’s not quite to my personal taste, as an outfit this is wayyy better. The vibrant neons on a black background is pretty tried and true and it looks pretty dang good here too! Like the color choices but the placements really make it here. The neon green strips around the arms and neck don’t pull focus from their face but they do pull it down to the rest of the outfit! The weird fishnet shirt underneath (while not my favorite) works with their belts and bracelets to pull the eye down, the belt chain and zipper detailing on their cargo pants continue the trend, then you hit their platforms and the silver/white parts pull you RIGHT back up to their hair. I also love the mix of punk and prep they did here with the crop sweater vest and the cargo pants. Overall: Wonderful, wouldn’t change much about it.

Draculuara

Movie one:

Aside from how cheap it looks, I don’t hate the basics. It also doesn’t fail the interest curve like Frankie’s first outfit. The pink isn’t very well dispersed and mostly focused on the top half of her (her hair, puff sleeves, neckline and belt). I will admit they did a good job keeping her outfit and skin from clashing (in promo at least).

Then you get to the small void of her skirt. If you just take the end lace and make that the same color as her under shirt, belt or necktie you’d be so much better off. Personally I would’ve given her a few different thin petticoats in different shades of pink so that A. Her dress would look fuller and either exaggerate her A-line and break her up from Clawdeen and B. Give her movement and more variation. When she moves or sits, you’d see all the shades of pink peaking out from under her skirt.

I say different shades of pink because it would also pull in her light pink Maryjane’s (her shoes) I only think they work because of her wearing tights, otherwise they’re the same color as her skin. I personally would’ve gone with lace socks (lace tights exist I just think that would’ve been too much)

Movie two:

This outfit shows what I was talking about with her skirt from the last one. It also shows what I meant with her pink colors clashing with each other. In promo for the second movie, her frock coat (the jacket dress), hair and skin are all fighting each other. It makes her hair look faded, her skin look washed out and her frock coat look VIOLENTLY PINK.

It works on Frankie with their blue because A. It’s used way less and B. it’s a different tone from their skin.

Draculaura’s is fighting with her.

Now the underside of her dress is also why I’d use several shades of pink, cuz that just looks flat.

This one might be more of a me problem, but her shoes are violently pink but they’re the wrong *shade* of violent pink which bothers me.

I do love the pink panel and buttons on her frock coat and her heart belt. Looks like the vampire heart from Frights, Camera, Action.

Cleo isn’t in movie 2 promos for some reason so movie one only-

Party city is once again the problem.

I. Structurally it’s not bad. There’s interest throughout and it’s technically on theme. This outfit is bad because it feels misfit to the person wearing it and it looks cheap.

Her skirt looks like a bathmat, her wraps look weirdly…dirty? Like they don’t look like old wraps, they look like dirty gold silks, which she’d NEVER wear. Also why do they tie twice?? And why do the hanging ties look like a completely different material from the rest of the wrap??

Her jewlery is dull in color and looks very floaty and light all contributing to the cheap costume-y, party city look.

Her shoes are fine, they’re a different shade of blue but that doesn’t really matter here.

Another thing I think makes it look like Not-Cleo is that there’s not enough asymmetry. The wraps G1 Cleo had on her arms gave a ton of nice looking asymmetry that was added onto by bangles or purses. G1 Cleo does have looks without these and they’re more symmetrical, but they’re the exception, not the rule. She’s also just not accessorized as much as I think Cleo would be.

BIG SECTION INCOMING I HAVE FUCKING THOUGHTS BABY

CLAWDEEN WOLF:

Movie one:

What. What the FUCK is this mess. It’s so busy. So busy.

There’s no interest anywhere because it’s too damn busy. EVEN HER FUCKING SHOES ARE BUSY. The fur coat is completely and totally unnecessary in this outfit, it shouldn’t be here. Put it on something ELSE.

Her belts feels like a slap in the face because it’s an ATTEMPT to separate the patterns of her skirt and shirt, but one is ALSO PATTERNED and one is a whole different texture. And they’re both too thin to help anyways! I hate this.

Not that making it chunkier would exactly help this awful decision. I want to delete this skirt so badly- there’s no reason for it to be patterned like this, they just WANTED TOO.

I give the move shirt a pass because she’s a lost kid and her only connection point is the moon. So okay, that’s fine. If you can explain to me why the skirt and shoes and patterned like that beyond “she’s a werewolf!” Then I’ll eat a fuckin shoe or something I just-

Movie two:

Better. Quite a bit better.

I don’t love that they got rid of the only pattern that made any sense for her character. Especially since she’s supposed to beefing with the cat girl, yet she’s wearing a cheetah print skirt. The belt is chunkier and does a way better job separating things out, it also pulls the color of her jacket’s fur trim in-I don’t like that color here, but it works.

Speaking of! Her jacket is no longer an offense to fashion, it’s much more tasteful with just a purple fur trim. As for the color…her whole outfit is honestly very cold shades of purple, and they don’t mix that well together. Mostly the skirt vs the jacket. There’s also not enough interest all out, the skirt pattern is eating it all up so your eye is just drawn to the lower middle of her body rather then her face because purple curls are blending with the jacket.

Her shoes are super inoffensive.

I hate these so bad in part because Clawdeen is supposed to be into fashion isn’t she??? (Unless they changed that) She’d know these things- so it pisses me off some-

[loregoddess]

Osvald for the ask meme

Hecking love this guy...

how much I like their personality: Very much, which was a surprise to me. For a variety of reasons, I'm not fond of the "emotionless or emotionally stunted intellectual who prizes their lack of emotion as proof of their intellect (or else the intellectual with an utter lack of understanding of emotion in general)" as a trope (I am not summarizing that trope well, but, y'know, that trope), so I started off a bit wary every time the narrative made it seem like Osvald didn't know what love (or other emotions outside of revenge) were, but his narrative dovetailing into "actually he has known love (and other emotions) all along and just didn't have a name for them bc he was so preoccupied with his research, but actually he has loved and loves very deeply and this is a key aspect of his characterization" was a really nice subversion of my expectations and fears, and as a result Osvald ended up being a really interesting character. I love the duality of his focus on his research and rather blunt way of speaking being juxtaposed with how deeply he actually cares, and how despite at the beginning of his story where he believes himself a hollow shell of a man who can only seek vengeance, that he's actually so full of care for his family and the other travelers, and he actually does understand emotions even if it's not like, in a conventional way and not quite to the same level or type of emotional intelligence as a few of the other travelers. I just think Osvald's a really interesting, great character!

how much I like their design/aesthetics Overall, I love his character design! I think leaving the prison chains around his neck was a weird design decision, esp. after his main story arc is beaten (hey if they could take the cuff thingy off Therion after story completion, Osvald could have gotten some new clothes...), but overall I feel like his design reflects his characterization very well. He has this big, tall, hulking figure, and comes off as rather intimidating at first, which is fitting because he starts off as hellbent on revenge and also he can literally mug people at night, but then we learn that Loving Father is deeply ingrained in his core personality, so that the hulking figure becomes more like that of a protective mother bear (or Juvah, to quote Ochette). I felt like the designers also did a good job having his general appearance change to reflect his life circumstances (i.e. before the murder of his family, his hair is kept tied back, he's always dressed nicely, it's very heavily implied this was partly Rita's work but we still get the sense that his life is "together" as a result; whereas after breaking out of prison his hair is unkempt and he wears his old prison rags because he can no longer focus on living, with all his energy going towards his vengeance quest; and then of course we get how he's dressed in his ending art which I feel speaks for Osvald's entire character arc and growth very nicely). The overall choice for a color palette focused on browns and beiges was a nice touch too, because brown can very easily be made to look like a cold color in certain lighting, but likewise can be a very warm color depending on the light, which reflects the duality of Osvald's characterization very well too. I'm uh, gonna wrap this up here bc character design actually is my passion and we'll be here all day if I try to go over every aspect of his design, but as an artist with an interest in character design, I think Osvald's got a strong design overall and I like it a lot.

how interesting I think they are As stated in different ways above, I think Osvald's very interesting! Would probably write up an entire analysis of his arc and characterization and other stuff if I had the energy and time.

how well-written I think they are Overall I liked Osvald's writing quite a bit. His narrative arc was one of my favorites from the game, and I felt like the story beats and his characterization came through very clearly. I also felt that the turning point in his narrative (Ch4) was one of the strongest narrative turning points out of all the travelers (only being beat out by Castti's for my personal favorite of the mid-story turning points). Despite my love of a good ol' fashioned revenge tale, I was delighted by how Osvald's arc subverted my expectations without any of the plot twists or reveals feeling contrived or out-of-place. Especially on my second run with The Knowledge Of What Happens, I have an appreciation for how his story is being set up and how certain things were hinted at earlier if not outright foreshadowed. Very enjoyable writing overall!

(if applicable) how much I like their mechanics in-game Octo2 has some of the best game mechanics of any jrpg I've played (for my personal tastes), and Osvald's definitely one of my favorite characters to play. He starts off a bit of a glass canon, but with the right setup of equipment he becomes pretty sturdy quickly enough. I like having him in the cleric class because of the access Mystic Staff, and Holy Light is a useful single-enemy offensive skill to use for when Osvald's latent ability isn't full, but he does well in pretty much any class I stick him in, and his personal EX skill is one of my favorite EX skills from the entire game (although as to the divine EX skill well...I've literally never needed to use Teach so uh...that one was more of a miss for me). One of my main damage-dealers in endgame teams, and I used him specifically to churn out high damage hits in the fight with the optional superboss (that's all he did the entire battle), that's how powerful he ended up for me.

if I think they are a Good Person(tm) I'm not really invested in fictional character morality, but sure, even with the mugging and stuff Osvald seems like a decent enough person. Probably wouldn't be one of the main protagonists sort of implied to be chosen by the gods themselves to safeguard the world otherwise.

[gothamslostboy]

Hey there! Can I please get a matchup for both The Lost Boys and Scream please? (If not no worries!)

Im a 5'2" female with a very pear shaped body. I have neck length pink hair and blue eyes. Despite my pink hair I usually wear a lot of black and gray with a small hint of pastels. A lot of my outfits actually consists of boots, fishnets, or chains. However I also wear a lot of Hello Kitty and early 2000's cartoon shirts!

I am pansexual, but have a male lean, so I'm fine with whatever character you want to match me with! As for my hobbies I'm very big on writing and reading, dancing, and collecting dolls. My favorite animal is 100% a raccoon though! I actually used to feed and name the ones outside!

I have a hard time deciding if I like comedy or horror movies more, but I do enjoy both feelings. Despite looking edgy and coming off as cold (I'm just really awkward and shy) I'm very bubbly and can definitely be a people pleaser. I love making people laugh but I constantly worry if I'm being too annoying when doing so.

I suppose I should add in that I'm neurodivergent as well and have some slightly annoying stims. I actually got yelled at at work for one of them last week 🙃 They're usually just me air punching people, rocking, or repeating different phrases but they do annoy others sometimes. However I am also extremely forgetful and a bit ditzy, I won't lie.

I hope I'm not missing anything! Thank you:)

Hey anon, I just wanted to say really quickly that I’m sorry you feel like you annoy ppl. From this little description I think you’d be really cool:] I’m also neurodivergent and funnily enough, we share some of the same stims! Don’t worry, you’ll find the ppl who you can be yourself around eventually. hope you’re having a great day🫶

I ship you with…..

SCREAM:

Stu Macher! I hc him with autism so he understands and emphasizes with having “annoying” stims. He won’t judge you, hell he’s probably gonna develop them as his own stims.

You guys are both bubbly people, although he expresses it very obviously, and will probably spend most your time making eachother laugh. He’s also a very blunt person and will tell you straight up how he feels about anything, and prefers if you’d do the same. This makes people believe he doesn’t care about others or their feelings, but he actually cares very much for those close to him. He just needs directness to understand and problem solve.

He’s gonna fidget with your chains and fishnets when cuddling or sitting close to eachother, unless you ask him to stop. You might have to remind him again if he does it subconsciously. He adores ppl with colored hair, and will definitely match with you at some point. He loves your style and will let beg you give him a makeover at least once.

He tries to sit with you to feed raccoons, but he has to much trouble staying still and quiet enough to get close. So instead he just watches from the window smiling and making lil comments to himself like “ooo that’s a big guy”

He’s not a big reader or writer but loves to lay his head in your lap and let you read aloud to him. Any time any song comes on, he’s dragging you to the dance floor, or just on your feet to move. If you don’t want to dance with him, he just dances next to you. He looks at all your dolls and lets you rant about them, but he’s watch Child’s Play one too many times to actual hold or touch them.

You’re in luck bc Stu’s favorite genre is Horror Comedy! Any movie involving either genre is enough for him to watch it at least once or twice.

THE LOST BOYS:

Dwayne! I had a harder time picking one for TLB, but I figured it out in the end. Dwayne is an extremely patient person, especially if he cares about you. The reason Paul and Marko target David for jokes is bc it’s impossible to get a decent reaction out of Dwayne.

He loves how your styles kinda match and buys two matching chains, with little charms representing you two.

He also comes off as cold at first, but once he warms up to you he’s just a protective, sweet guy who wants his loved ones to be happy.

If anyone says anything about your stims, they’re getting hit, and an ass beating if they’re not close to him.

He likes to compare your thoughts on books together, followed by recommendations for eachother. He’s anxiously awaiting for when you finish writing, want to read it as soon as possible.

He won’t initiate dancing, but is more than willing to if you ask. He also buys accessories for your dolls, and ends up loving them almost as much as you do